Two Morgon soldiers, one in black, the other in camouflaged armour were fighting the attacks of four Nepalese and one Trevakian as the group neared. The sickening crack as a Gurkha’s body went limp, the camouflaged Morgon’s grasp around the soldier’s neck having splintered the human’s backbone, the Trevakian reservist smashing his rifle butt furiously against the enemy’s side armour. Another Gurkha leapt onto the eight-foot soldier’s back, his hands heaving at the camouflaged helmet, a bayonet clenched between his teeth.
The black armoured Morgon threw one of the smaller Gurkhas from him, the body disappearing into the swirling smoke as he turned to hiss at the remaining defender, the man lowered to a half crouch in defence as the tall soldier drew his sword.
The captain lunged at the Morgon with black armour, his blade slashing and cracking against the bicep defences, the lone Gurkha surging forward and jumping towards his aggressor, a cry of determination coming from his throat as he ducked the swinging blade. More Nepalese charged the two enemy soldiers, the bodies thrashing around as the weight of the smaller tanned troops bore down on them, blades jabbing and thrusting violently for possible weaknesses in the reinforced plate.
The German and Spanish soldiers charged into the thinning smoke, snipers behind locating high vantage points and awaiting the billowing mass to clear as they readied their high calibre rifles. The machine and laser gunners strained their eyes into the mass, shrieks and screams filling the wide corridor as the two sides fought determinedly and without mercy.
The Trevakian and Gurkha medics worked frantically on the casualties, realising to their horror many bodies lay along the corridor as the smoke cleared, a high number melted or simply eaten away in the green toxic acid pools and smouldering heaps.
The reserve commander moved his squad back behind the stairs as more soldiers ran past towards the battle, the specialist soldiers deploying high powered mini-guns and stocks of Rocket Propelled Grenades to combat any Morgon breakthrough, the soldiers working feverishly as the screams and shouts of battle spurred them on.
Chapter Nine: Hedgehog defence
Rees struggled towards the charred opening, wincing a he dragged his injured legs over broken debris, the resin field dressing struggling to stem the flow of blood from his bullet wound. Behind him, the medic struggled to lift one of the severely wounded defenders, the burnt Trevakian screaming in agony as his legs buckled, both thigh bones shattered from the impact of the intense explosive blast. The two soldiers crashed to the floor, groaning in pain as the medic shouted out for assistance, Rees turning his head as Anjara hissed dismissively, ‘Get your rifle and fire out…forget them! Help will come!’
The flight leader wheezed, clutching his chest as he bent down to retrieve the sniper rifle, grasping the long barrel and heaving the weapon upwards, his teeth clenching in pain as he turned. Rees stared wide eyed from the laser blast opening, the masonry still smouldering around him as he raised his assault rifle determinedly. Smoke billowed before him, the desperate shouts for medics from outside filling his ears as he swallowed hard, seeing two wounded push themselves upwards and slump against the front trench wall, their rifles rising once more.
Staring out into the billowing dust, he gasped as the front line of Morgon soldiers became briefly visible some one hundred metres away. Charred and dismembered body parts lay across the shattered and burnt landscape, the grey snowflakes still surreally drifting to earth between the two forces as the defensive fire intensified once more, bodies falling in the distance as he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.
The visor was surging red, hundreds of alarm dots flashing across the defensive resin as Rees tensed, his eyes just making out the outline of a disabled walker in the distance, more lumbering into view in the behind through the drifting smoke. Flashes erupted through the murk as more mortar rounds fell amongst the advancing troops, shrieks of pain and hatred emanating across the ground towards the buildings.
Anjara slipped down next to him, grunting in pain as he thrust the sniper rifle barrel forward, ‘Fire short bursts…conserve your ammunition…’ The Trevakian pilot grinned ironically as Rees glanced round, confusion in his eyes, ‘Just think…neither of us are able to go and get more clips for our weapons…make sure every shot counts!’
Rees smiled fleetingly, nodding his understanding before lowering his head to the top of the rifle as the visor surged red once more. Anjara’s eyes widened as he glimpsed the walkers, his body pushing painfully to reach for the discarded RPG to the side. Dragging the heavy weapon towards him, his grimaced in pain, hissing as loud gunfire erupted below, ‘Tell me the walker with the green guns…we target that one!’
Rees glanced round, then stared back out of the opening, his eyes straining as he stared through the smoke, his voice shaking as bullets cracked against the exterior walls, ‘The middle one…I think!’
Anjara exhaled heavily in pain as he manoeuvred the heavy weapon onto his shoulder, wincing as the weight pushed down on his shoulders, ‘Open your mouth in a second and cover your ears!’
Rees stammered, his eyes turning to stare at the Trevakian, ‘W-what?’
Anjara swore under his breath, ‘Just do it!’ He raised the sight to his eye, the targeting mechanism surging as he moved the weapon painfully, his hand reaching for the trigger. The tube bucked against him, the discharged air surging around them as Rees screamed, his right eardrum perforating with the pressure as the weapon slipped from Anjara’s grasp, clattering onto the blood soaked floor as he groaned.
The rocket surged forward, the heat from the jet stream engulfing their faces as the projectile swept towards its target, the burning wake bouncing and twisting as the missile neared the walker, the explosion sending flame and black smoke billowing skywards as the Morgon machine collapsed downwards. Anjara giggled as he slapped Rees’s shoulder, the young reservist wincing in excruciating pain as his eyes widened in surprise, his own chest shaking as he giggled in shock, dust and stones crashing against their frames as bullets smacked against the torn building’s exterior.
Rees stared at Anjara, the Trevakian nodding as he reached for the sniper rifle, ‘We may be almost done, but we can still take them down…’ He glanced at the Heathrow reservist knowingly, ‘Now fire your damn rifle and let’s get some more of them!’
Unaware Rees was just above her, Jozefina Kapralova was firing short bursts of her rifle, her teeth clenched in pain as the butt kicked into her shoulder armour, the thick resin protection beginning to bruise into her collar bone. Laser blasts swept across the landscape before the defensive lines, Jozefina ducking instinctively as the explosions erupted behind, masonry falling into the trenches as more walls collapsed, the defenders wincing as the Morgon infantry charged. High pitched shrieks filled the escalating smoke as black and camouflaged armoured figures sprinted towards them, the final bullets ricocheting off the dirt before the trench as the sounds of ceremonial swords being drawn heightened the defenders’ terror.
The gunfire seemed to increase even further, desperate soldiers firing into the mass of charging armoured bodies. Lieutenant Kim ducked as masonry fell amongst the South Koreans, a number knocked to the foot of the trench before forcing their battered frames upwards. Rocket Propelled Grenades swept out over the defensive walls seeking the walkers, the mechanical beasts that were hit buckling or jolting with the armoured piercing impacts, their crews killed or heavily wounded from shock waves.
As the destroyed enemy machinery collapsed, the survivors continued forward, more emerging behind as the infantry neared the trench, the defenders frantically throwing grenades towards the aggressors. Flashing eruptions spread across the front of the village as Kim fired continually, screaming encouragement at his standing soldiers, ‘Keep firing! Dae Han Min Guk (Go Korea)!’
Captain Mekeert spun round, her eyes staring as mortars further to the rear fired, the familiar metallic ‘pops’ of Trevakian RPGs sounding from behind, her voice almost a desperate scream, ‘Acid walker
unit in the distance! Concentrate your fire!’ She glimpsed the despondent rocket crews, their shells already fired as they turned and shouted frantically for more ammunition, their bodies remaining exposed above the trench.
The two Morgon snipers dropped to their knees, a commander shrieking from behind as the rockets swept over their shining black helmets, a laser walker shuddering behind as two shells exploded against the armoured hull, one mechanical leg disintegrating and falling away from the main body as the machine collapsed downwards, laser blasts sweeping into the dull sky as the stunned crew leapt from their mount.
The commander shrieked once more, an armoured hand rising to gesture at the Trevakian rocket troops ahead, the snipers raising their weapons to fire. Explosive blast waves swept across the torn landscape, the rifle cracks loud and clear as the snipers reloaded, bullets streaming towards their targets.
Mekeert was shouting frantically at the defenders, many wounded, their rifle muzzles flashing as she pointed outwards, bullets smacking against the ground before them and walls above as the forward Morgon Grenadiers fired to supress the defenders in readiness for a final charge. Three Trevakians were propelled backwards, their faces soaked in splattered blood as their lifeless bodies bounced against the rear of the trench wall and slumped down into the excavation.
The captain spun round as two more screams resounded through the gunfire, the rocket engineers falling backwards, one’s face a bloodied pulp as the Morgon sniper bullets found their targets. As the silver metallic launch tubes slipped from the grasp of the twitching figures, two fellow specialists dropped to their knees next to the bodies, their hands shaking with the additional ammunition as Mekeert slapped Jozefina’s shoulder, shouting against the side of her helmet, ‘With me! Load the tubes for the gunners!’
The Heathrow supervisor glanced round frantically, a gasp coming from her lips as she glimpsed the blood soaked bodies around them in the trench, then the dead gunners above. Seeing Mekeert clamber from cover, she lunged after her instinctively, her heart pounding and breath held as she scaled the rear wall of the defensive position. The rocket shell was thrust into her hands, the new gunner grasping a blood drenched silver tube and raising it over his shoulder, jerking his head to the rear.
Jozefina followed Mekeert’s lead, watching the Trevakian intensely as she carefully inserted the long spherical rocket into the rear of the tube nearby, Kapralova copying her actions and tapping the helmet of the soldier in front in replication of the captain’s actions. Bullets smacked against the wall next to her, shrapnel and masonry cracking against her visor as she screamed, deep scratches suddenly appearing across the clear resin as she ducked in fear, then fell back, her hand slipping across the pitted masonry wall next to her.
The engineer in front of Captain Mekeert rose up, blood pouring from below his shoulder armour, the rocket soaring skywards as the gunner in front of Jozefina screamed desperately, ‘Hold my arms…they are shaking too much!’
The airport supervisor struggled upwards in response, throwing her body forward against the back of the engineer, his frame stiffening as dust and debris splattered across their front, the soldier inhaling and holding his breath as the laser guidance system struggled to gain the intended target. Finally, the sights glowed, the trooper squeezing the trigger and a metallic ‘ping’ resounding around them, the rocket surging outwards as acrid smoke filled their nostrils, a stream of vapour surging behind the projectile as it sped towards its target.
Jozefina slumped backwards, her eyes widening as green wisps of smoke swept overhead and exploded in the street behind, distant agonising screams engulfed by the sustained gunfire from the trench in front. She glimpsed the figure before her rise, the frame shuddering as a bullet hit his shoulder armour, a whine of pain as the Trevakian scrambled towards Mekeert, his hands grasping the metallic tube and raising it to his eyes, the targeting system searching for another victim. Mekeert screamed for more ammunition, Jozefina scrambling forwards to retrieve the other rocket tube as the Morgon snipers raised their rifles once more.
More RPGs swept outwards, the smoke trails slicing above the flashing rifle muzzles and explosive flashes as they surged towards their targets.
Captain Mason stood painfully leaning on crutches in the command bunker, his torso and legs heavily bandaged and internal organs seeming to twitch and glow from the heavy injected painkillers and anaesthetic assistance of his combat uniform.
Before him, the holographic view of the defences and advancing Morgons flickered and died, the Trevakian commander turning in despondency as he addressed the four officers before him, rechecking his language as he spotted the American, ‘The two northern villages report fighting in their trenches, that they are being overwhelmed. Their wounded are being dragged through the tunnels to us as we speak and it is likely both positions will fall. The Morgons are slaughtering the defenders and the short wave radio messages are continually disrupted by gunfire and shouting.’ The commander sat back on the now inanimate table despondently, ‘Once the wounded and any additional soldiers are through, we will detonate the explosives in the connecting tunnels, preferably with some of the enemy inside…there is little left to do!’
He spun round as the radio operator behind shouted, ‘Incoming message from Harg One Sir!’
The commander grimaced in response, ‘Place on speaker…’
The speakers surged with static, a young frightened female voice breaking through the heavy interference, ‘…repeat…Morgon forces have overrun the defences…fighting now amongst the buildings…we are all now required to defend…the situation is beyond retrieval!’ The static surged, then relented, the voice becoming more edged with panic, ‘The village is lost…they are slaughtering everyone!’ The voice seemingly to rise more desperately and with high emotional intensity as muffled shouts could be heard, ‘Please tell my father…I have done my duty to my people and race! Long live the Trevakian Empire…long live our new allies…long live…’ Gunfire erupted across the speakers, screams of determined resistance from the Trevakians as numerous further deafening shots rang out, then simply high pitched shrieks as the transmission was cut abruptly.
Rees strained his eyes as the rifle bucked against his shoulder rapidly, his realisation and terror that the enemy was about to overwhelm the defenders becoming apparent, the mass of black and camouflaged infantry before them just too great. Anjara’s rifle bucked next to him, the Morgon infantry commander approaching the trench collapsing downwards as the bullet shattered his breastplate, the Trevakian pilot feverishly grasping for the bolt of the rifle as the room seemed to rock, dust and debris billowing across their visions as wide flashes suddenly swept across the terrain.
As their bodies shuddered and heads ducked down instinctively, the visors sweeping into blackness to protect their eyes, the massive explosions tore at the earth and shaking the building structures. Anjara coughed violently with the swirling dust, his helmet rising and heart racing as the after burn of a star fighters engines swept just overhead, the missiles from the sleek craft and shells of the Morasat Battery landing amongst the advancing Morgons. Powerful blast waves swept through the opening, both soldiers initially clenching their eyes as dust billowed and poured into the room, the walls seeming to shake even more.
Anjara then stared out, a tear of fondness and longing emerged into his one remaining biological sighted eye as the light from further eruptions sparkled across the sleek fighter’s lower silver hull, the craft banking sharply away to the south, the lasers under the wings flickering with static as the pilot prepared to fire again, Anjara’s hoarse whisper going unheard, ‘Second Flight Officer Somas…you beautiful Trevakian! The Vipers still fly!’
Chapter Ten: The Cloaked ship
David Bland’s eyes flickered open, his chest heaving as he coughed violently, his eyes darting around as fear swept through his frame. Cracking his knees against frosted protective glass, he tried to sit up, his head smacking against the curved roof of the container, h
is mind struggling to comprehend where he was. Realising he was laying in nothing but his underwear, the feeling of vulnerability began to filter uncontrollably through his mind, a fear of being trapped surging through his chest.
Breathing heavily, his hands swept upwards, his palms pushing against the curved roof of the frosted chamber, the reinforced resin resisting his efforts as he winced, his muscles painful and twitching as oxygen surged through his deprived system. Realising the container was too strong and compact, his legs bent painfully to fit inside the small cabin, he fell back exhausted, gasping as cool oxygen was pumped into the enclosed space his eyes darting from side to side in an attempt to see through the curved resin roof surrounding him. His body was lain on a thin blue cushion, a rubber like pillow beneath his head for comfort, his hands touching and running along a cold plastic alloy forming the base of the cabin, the frosted resin seeming attached firmly to the lower bed.
Bright lights shone through the frosted glass compartment, his eyes blinking as shadows passed by on either side, a green light emitted from a small silver box above his head, seeming to scan his body as it crept downwards across his frame. His ears strained as he heard murmurs on either side, the voices seeming to click and tut as the silhouettes became outlined against the resin, the figures communicating in hushed murmurs with each other.
The green light began to surge below his waist, sweeping from side to side as it scanned his body, the computers of the compartment collating information on his internal organs and system, his hands rising to firmly run along the frosted resin above once more.
The small silver box above clicked and whirred, the light beginning to ascend back up his body, his hands tingling as the touch of the resin seemed cool, his breath becoming more shallow as the oxygen level stabilised to what his body required. He jumped as a faint beep sounded next to his ears before a surge of static, a low voice emitting from the small speakers as his eyes closed firmly in frustration, ‘Hello human being person…do not be alarmed…our mechanical is scanny you, testing for impurities and toxics…we no want your nasty diseases and what-nots!’
Zaxon B: The Final Struggle (Galaxies Collide Book 4) Page 10
