Another energised shout from his subordinate nearby, the man’s binoculars to his eyes, ‘First section…walkers incoming, target their drivers or hydraulics…kill them all!’
Kelb stumbled, dropping to a crouch and raising his own glasses expectantly through scratching branches, his body hidden behind bushes and a fallen tree trunk as he gasped, the darkened sky suddenly lighting up as flashes of lights erupted from the Morgon line. Heavy calibre machine guns whirred as tracers swept blindly from the allied line, streams of automatic fire returning, screams erupting as men ducked down, the cracks of sniper rifles ringing out in unison as determined snipers fired at their prey.
Major Kelb watched a high walker’s mechanical legs seem to stagger, the upper cockpit bucking as the machine slewed sideways, crashing into the machine next door and collapsing downwards onto a number of infantry below. Further mines detonated amongst the advancing armoured figures, the commander holding his breath in awe at the carnage on the fields below, a roar of engines behind the hill as the tank officers warmed their motors.
Bullets peppered the slope, Kelb ducking back as he panned his binoculars across the fields, further walkers stumbling as their driver’s heads jerked backwards, sparks and pluming explosions of fire rising upwards as the Morgons reached the second line of phosphorous devices. Shattered armoured bodies were thrown upwards as the detonations swept up and down the advancing line, high powered blast waves and razor sharp shrapnel tearing through gaps in armour, the phosphorous burning through thick scaled skin. High pitched shrieks of anger and the grinding of metal against metal as several walkers stumbled and collapsed, the German commander gritting his teeth as he glimpsed more shadows behind, his eyes widening as he gasped into his throat microphone. Shouting breathlessly as he lowered the binoculars, he passed the order to the rear units, ‘Heavy mortars, prepare to fire on the second wave…predetermined coordinates, they have acid walkers and engineers…on my mark!’
Explosions tore across the slope, rear Morgon engineers firing rockets towards the dug in defenders, Kelb ducking back below the tree trunk and thrusting his face into the coarse undergrowth, scratched hands desperately rising over his helmet as debris and earth fell all around his body, ‘Ready…’
The terrain lit up once more as further mines and trip wires detonated, Kelb rising slightly with his binoculars, his breath held as he heard the muffled acknowledgement in his earpiece, his gloves resting on the rough bark as the rifle cracks spread across the line. The intense flashes seemed to fill and illuminate the landscape, trip flares pulsing into the night’s sky and bathing the fields in light, the commander’s eyes widening in shock as he glimpsed the sheer number of Morgon troops behind their walkers, the red glowing eyes seeming to fill the fields.
His hand darted to the microphone once more, voice hoarse with rising dread and excitement, ‘Heavy artillery and mortars…now! Creeping barrage…fire at will…hit them with everything!’
Chapter Five: A Makeshift Fleet Nears
Begum stood resolutely, frowning as Captain Dugachard stood next to her and stiffened, the admirals and assembled Trevakian dignitaries sat behind a low table opposite turning to whisper to each other in dread and awe. The small tanned figure placed hands on his hips defiantly in obvious determination, the enhanced translating device fully charged as he raised one small hand to his ear in readiness, ‘That is the order of the High Lord…we of the Fahimian Republic must attack in that way.’
One of the Trevakian admirals, a middle aged bloated man with grey hair shook his head in annoyance opposite, ‘You requested a hearing…this is nothing other than an ultimatum. Our directive is to assist the earth forces and attempt to destroy the Morgon warships…that is all.’ His eyes narrowed as he stared at the small figure before him in suspicion, ‘Your forces are engaged with ours on Zaxon B. Are you saying your last remaining ship is shadowing our progress…ready to uncloak and involve itself if and when it sees fit? That if we are losing it will disappear, and if winning…well we can only guess? What happens next, you decide to disengage across two planets if we do not support you? This mission is suicide…and involves us.’
Begum pursed his lips in defiance, shaking his head as the words were translated into his ear, a small hand rising to the throat microphone, ‘I am not aware of any consideration to withdraw from our struggle. My race has come to your aid and provided schematics for new weapons willingly…rifles and possible other military ordinance you currently do not possess. The Morgons are our ultimate enemy, they have exterminated and even eaten most of my fallen people as delicacies and now control our beloved and beautiful home worlds, killing our beloved animals for sport. Our small skulls are seen as a trophy to their victorious warriors and highly prized to decorate their armour.’ His deep brown moistened eyes narrowed, ‘Now is the time to show our ultimate resolve and bravery to defeat this menace to our existence…’ Begum sighed, drawing an emotional breath, ‘We Fahimians wish to be permitted this action…I have progressed from a decorated commando to this rank of emissary and now I have been ordered to command this particular attack. I will give my life and those of my soldiers to achieve its goal and success.’
Captain Dugachard shifted her stance uneasily, glancing at the smaller figure next to her in surprise at the admission, the Trevakian officer then stiffening further reactively as she realised her surroundings. Her eyes glanced conservatively from side to side, glimpsing the immaculately clad marines on either wall, next to the sliding grey shimmering doors, the room of one solid dark colour with tiny spotlights filling the low ceiling above. The slightly raised platform before them seated five senior ranking Trevakian officers and the admiral, all seeming to scrutinise the two
