Then intense heat suddenly filled the rear cabin, the pilot’s voice strained as he struggled with the controls, ‘Atmospheric pressure as we enter…Morgon fighters below…Fahimian craft engaging initial defensive response wave! Full power to shields initiated…sensors report eruptions on Morgon warship shields!’
Several screams as the drop ship dropped suddenly, then bounced, boxes falling from the overhead racks, ‘Within atmospheric ring…external pressure increasing, heat initially beyond structural tolerance…venting ducts in response!’
The door to the cockpit abruptly swept open, the officer shouting desperately, ‘Hold your breathing! Oxygen level are decreasing…we are burning up; the radiation has affected the earth’s outer atmosphere ring!’
Chapter Twenty Seven: Zaxon B Revisited
Lieutenant Malikkas’s eyes flickered open, his vision blurred as he took in the pin lights overhead, the green and amber flashing as scans swept up and down his emaciated body, the Herrakian feeling pain seep through his muscles and bones. There was an immediate reaction from the medical beds anaesthetic capability, liquid seeming to excrete from pads across his naked frame, the follicles on his tanned skin twitching as the soothingly cool substance drifted through his pores.
His mind drifted once more as he closed his eyes, visions of his fallen soldiers seeming to taunt him mercilessly, their smiling faces slipping one by one into his imagination, their expressions slowly contorting in fear and pain as blood slipped from lips, dribbling and then flowing from their mouths. The Herrakian twisted back and forth in mental torment as the medical bed increased the anaesthetic, his breathing becoming deeper and more relaxed as he drifted briefly into unconsciousness.
The camouflaged tanks ground forward, electrical engines whirring as the heavy tracks ground up the slope towards Contax Base, forward guns belching flame as high powered shells and laser fire ripped through Morgon defensive positions. Black armoured bodies were tossed upwards as heat and billowing smoke swept over the armoured hulls, black acrid clouds rising in heavy plumes across the horizon, the grim flushed faced Red Leopard gunners reloading frantically as turrets turned slowly, commanders shouting additional targets as the enemy seemed to run in panic before them, a collective excitement rising that victory was finally within their grasp.
Four tanks burned on the desolate airfield behind, Morgon rockets having claimed the first Trevakian victims, burning and scorched crew members tumbling from smouldering hatches as combat medics lunged forward between the advancing marines. Wounded enemy soldiers were despatched mercilessly amongst the forward trenches, grenades tossed into crumpled dugouts or muzzles thrust into melted and burnt armour, the laser fire at close range severing heads and tearing through torsos, the grey snow below soaked in blood.
As the forward tanks and armoured quads surged into the obliterated village, rear doors creaked and swung open, red and blue laser flashes filling the ember filled churning air as fires burned out of control on either side, hardly a building left standing. The marines surged out across the hamlet, cutting down any Morgons too slow in retreat, engineers with accompanying body guards manhandling heavy equipment on sledges along the rubble filled streets, the new mechanisms deposited in targeted positions as marines lowered to protect the devices.
The heavy machines slowly opened, electronics surging in power as additional energy packs were attached, intense lights surging upwards and outwards at angles as the marine visors dimmed, the infantry then moving on at crouches to form a defensive perimeter on the village outskirts, the Morgons seemingly in full disorganised retreat as they relinquished the destroyed hamlet.
Fahimian fighters swept overhead, the drone of their engines filling the terrain below as airborne mechanical droids swept after the vessels, concentrated tracers rising as lasers crackled across the crimson wings, victory lights surging across the hulls as the hoarse cheers of marines rose behind, white lights smashing into the barren and jagged terrain, splintered rocks and bodies thrown upwards as defensive positions were destroyed.
Self propelled heavy artillery rumbled up behind across the smouldering pitted airfield, the raised barrels flashing upwards as smoke was discharged from the muzzles, potent high explosive shells sweeping into the valley beyond the village as the lumbering wide monsters negotiated the field, several of their crews noticing the intense lights spiralling upwards and outwards on either side of the desolate airfield.
The Morgon commander in the far ravine was screaming and shrieking at subordinates, the desperate request for air support denied by the now virtual fortress further east, the return orders simple, ‘hold his positions or face execution’. Striding from his underground sandbagged reinforced headquarters, he stared in almost disbelief towards the rising smoke in the distance, shrieking frantic commands at his artillery officer nearby, the Morgon subordinate lunging in fear towards his raised guns and mortars, his own shrieks causing the gunner crews to tremble. Fire flashed upwards, the heavy artillery firing out towards the hamlet as surviving mortars across the valley responded as ordered, the acid and high calibre shells sweeping upwards and towards the Trevakian forces.
The shells twisted and turned in the air, beginning to fall towards the burning hamlet and airfield beyond, the Morgon commander’s frame tensing in relish, readying to issue the order to advance…to slaughter the now recognised Red Leopards, culling the sister Trevakian Empire elite unit to the Blue Leopards, a trophy he already possessed…the ultimate recognition was perhaps within his grasp.
Heavy explosions erupted in the distance, green and black smoke rising and billowing upwards into the grey miserable foreboding sky as he raised a clenched fist in excited expectation, an armoured helmet turning to await the presence of his radio operator, then the reports that would invariably invoke the order to advance…a forked tongue running across scaled lips as red helmet eyes sparkled with relish…he
