Begum raised his voice once more, ‘They can move quickly…on the ground and in the air…these are our combat engineers and the equipment is very light. They will fight alongside you in the coming battle…’ He nodded towards a grinning captain Dugachard, ‘Next!’
Most eyes moved back to the open doors, a low mechanical clanking coming from the corridor outside as eyes widened once more, Begum continuing, ‘Combat engineers…come with you too!’
The larger figure emerged, several gasps as the raised armoured Fahimian stepped mechanically into the light, an outer exoskeleton high powered frame covering the engineer’s lower legs and chest, two gatling guns mounted on the outer frame at waist height, the machine turning to move to the side, the rear of the machine more robust and bulging backwards. Begum shouted over the clanks as the steel robotic boots clanked across the bay, ‘Experimental…we tried mounting grenade launcher on upper frame, but not this model. We could not use laser guns as the rate of fire was reduced and the commando was unable to reload effectively…this we use as a defensive piece or infantry support…it can project a small forward shield and carry heavier equipment on the rear frame.’
The small Fahimian stepped forward, moving in front of the marines, ‘We have other war devices, but those that you have seen will land with you…the others we will bring later…some our commandoes have.’ He clapped his hands, nodding to captain Dugachard as his expression became more solemn, ‘Now we have an energy meal for you as we load our transports…you will travel one platoon in each vessel with one platoon of our own commandoes.’ The Fahimian emissary swallowed, ‘The battle is close…and we will be victorious together…’ His small brown eyes seemed to glisten emotionally beneath the shadowing helmet rim, ‘It is our honour to fight with you all…with our new friends and allies.’
Chapter Twenty Five: A self-made Armageddon?
One Hour Earlier
The loudspeakers beneath Saratov beeped in alarm, the numerous engineers, special operation soldiers and staff glancing upwards in expectation of the incoming message, Dimitri leaning back in his higher level chair as the control room lights below dimmed, a hushed silence falling across the computer keyboard operators as they stared at the screen that filled the wall before them. The lead operator grimaced, glimpsing the Russian numerals count down to the announcement, all personnel ordered to be ready for the information from central command at the top of the hour.
The six pictures on the screen were their only view of outside, the updates forming a grim picture. Forest and building fires burnt out of control further west, the road to what may be left of Moscow ripped from the landscape, scattered with the remains of numerous shattered vehicles and lorries. Local television cable news crew pictures also showed the plight of the Russian people, dark billowing clouds of soot and debris hanging ominously above the city, black plumes of smoke rising all across the horizon to the west. The red update line moving along the bottom of one of the screens reported numerous helicopter and aircraft crashes, including a fleets of numerous military transport flights, the heavy casualties of soldiers transferring towards Voronezh and then onto the border with the Ukraine.
Breaking news stories from the local area showed graphic pictures from the large city hospitals, of corridors full of bed ridden and seated patients, many heavily bandaged with scarlet and bloodied burnt skin, numerous people with thick bandages over their eyes, the news reporter advising many would never regain full sight after witnessing the bright energy blasts sweep low across the sky over Saratov.
The newsreader reported that communications across Russia were now extremely difficult if not impossible and that all residents were advised to remain indoors and avoid any travel. Then the operators stiffened, new network footage emerging onto the screen, the horizon a burning scarlet red with a wind buffeted reporter standing before a burning forest, her face flushed from the heat as she shouted into the camera.
Dimitri leant forward, indicating to one of the female operators, his voice rising above the frantic whispers, ‘Increase the volume…I want all to hear!’
The operator nodded, clicking on the keyboard below her, the reporter’s breathless Russian voice just becoming audible, ‘With firestorms burning out of control on the main road to Moscow, the army is evacuating livestock and survivors from along the route of the blast wave…’ The reporter braced herself as embers and acrid smoke billowed around her, the wind picking up as flaming branches crackled and spat in the forest behind, her blood shot eyes straining, ‘The authorities have told us that we are unable to continue along the motorway towards the capital and most of the surrounding towns and villages are now deserted. The roads have been closed and all train services suspended.’ Helicopters droned overhead, the rotor blades drowning out the reporter as the camera swung upwards, the military transport vessels progressing westwards in a large group, the sky above a dark swirling grey and black.
The camera moved back to the glowing horizon, the reporter struggling to stand as ferocious ember filled swirling winds tugged at her jacket, her voice rising against the roar behind, ‘Rumours are spreading of massive explosions and eruptions…that Moscow was the target and that most of the city has been destroyed…’ She swallowed hard, coughing in the smoke as sirens wailed in the distance, several soldiers running past behind, ‘The few residents that have been
