The two further energy blasts swept downwards, the air seeming to tremble as static surged through the thin oxygen. Two large explosions ripped through the outer buildings of Contax Base, earth and stones thrown violently upwards with masonry and shattered wood, the rear foxholes and town emplacements imploding as the intense energy smashed through the ground. A wall of flame soared upwards, body parts and shattered equipment thrown skywards as the marines ducked back into their own defences, the stench of burning flesh and acrid smoke sweeping over their positions.
Then the roar of engines overhead, silver Trevakian fighter bombers screaming past with smaller crimson fighters, the marines staring towards the north in awe as further explosions ripped through the mining village and Morgon defences. Bright lights flashed across the wings of the first wave of smaller craft, laser blasts flying from the wing and frontal guns through black acrid smoke, the fighters spinning and rising before banking away to either side, the western most fighter sweeping high across the valley beyond.
Secondary explosions crumped as ammunition ignited, thin smoke trails from rockets rising into the swirling air and after the small vessels. Tracers swept upwards, the following fighters and bombers banking hard and sweeping off to the east, heading back towards Morasat, two with smoke billowing from damaged hulls.
The northern sky seemed to glow, fires raging all across the defensive positions, Contax Base now an inferno as thick black smoke blew across narrow earth streets, charred bodies and equipment crushed or buried under rubble. Debris and scorched dust slowly fell back to earth, the air now thick with a dense shroud, heat rising from the fires below and twisting or buffeting the murk.
The Trevakians tensed as trees and bark cracked shrilly behind, the tanks following cleared predetermined routes through the petrified forest as they approached the forward defensive line, marines ducking down into their trenches and foxholes as the tracked tanks lumbered northwards, passing over their positions. The whining of hover tanks followed, the drivers feeling their machines drop slightly as they progressed over the trenches, the gravitational reverse to support their machines reduced temporarily above the emplacements.
Quad carriers moved after the heavy armour as the engines ahead whined, turrets turning from side to side as the metal monsters emerged onto the airfield, fires burning at the opposite end as defensive fire erupted, glowing tracers sweeping forward, clanking and bouncing off the armoured plate, the muzzles belching flame and smoke as high explosive shells swept towards the charred defences.
Shrieks of anger rang out as the Morgon survivors desperately manhandled any surviving rocket launchers forward, the Red Leopard marines scrambling from their trenches and advancing after their armour, muffled thuds behind seeming to encourage them onwards as long range artillery opened fire from the rear.
The marines looked up as drones swept above them, the small silver craft banking across either side of the disused field and heading towards the Morgon rear areas, General Gristin demanding information on rear formations and defences, ready for the long range artillery to target.
Far to the north, the Morgon commander shrieked his disapproval, ordering acid batteries to target the burning town, his rage apparent to cowering subordinates as he pushed and punched several forcefully, the heavy defences before the ravine being hastily reinforced. Further units were ordered forward from the rear, automatic anti-air batteries and nano field guns readied all across the valley as booby traps and nano mines were activated.
Special grenadier battalions in camouflaged armour moved forward through the rocks, heading for concealed defensive positions, most emplacements devised to create killing ground between the rocks before them, any escape routes mined and fitted with trip wires.
In the high surrounding rocks, snipers with high powered rifles waited beneath rocks and in narrow caves, the mine to the west now a hive of activity as tethered snapping animals lined the tunnel walls, the deepest parts still blocked off but accessed from a high escape grate. Further Morgon units with numerous grey uniformed Silakians moved ammunition and heavy calibre weapons to the surface, a small satellite receiver sending pulsed and coded messages across the valley.
Chapter Fourteen: A Collapsing World
United States Presidential Bunker, Blue Ridge mountains in Virginia
The President stared at the screens before him, the Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom, Germany, France and Italy looking back curiously at him, grainy pictures of a Chinese military commander relayed through Russian underground fibre optic cables, the diversions to ensure a signal criss-crossing the southern Ukraine and then Balkans before linking with the western network.
Another screen suddenly flickered, the American President sighing and indicating to one of his security personnel impatiently, ‘Is this the Russians…this Dimitri in Saratov?’
The suited security officer glanced across at one of the technicians on a laptop next to the screens, the older man shaking his head and wording ‘Ukraine’, the secret service agent from Homeland Security lowering next to whisper to the president, ‘Sir…we believe Dimitri is a commander in the KGB…that a power struggle may be evolving after the destruction of Moscow and that the KGB are now in control…’
The President nodded, glancing down solemnly as the blank screen flickered once more and rubbing a hand through his matted hair as he whispered, ensuring his head was lowered sufficiently to prevent lip reading, ‘KGB? They were disbanded…surely not…the CIA would have known…’ He shook his head in exasperated weariness, gritting his teeth, ‘Just get me everything you have…I want to meet the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the main meeting room after this conference call…I want all footage analysed.’
The agent nodded, stepping back as static surged across the blank screen once more, the picture forming from Kiev of a tired Prime Minister, the middle aged man nodding to the screen,
