The tanker shouted at one of his men, throwing his binoculars to the man, ‘Take the glasses and get me coordinates from beyond the bend!’ The man nodded, running towards the forward positions, the tanker looking down into his armoured vehicle, ‘Raise the guns…forty five degree elevation. Load high explosive rounds!’
Shino approached the forward defences, several marines streaming past her as she moved forward. Some were without helmets, others had no weapons…all looked shocked and terrified. She saw Riaz ahead, kneeling behind one of the barriers, his rifle resting on top of the boxes. She slid next to him, ‘How’s it going?’
Riaz twisted his head, his face stern and voice broken, ‘They are running! An Armoured Brigade running! Terrified…I dunno what will happen…what is coming Shino? We are on the front line now!’
Shino gasped, his tone frightening her as Debra dropped next to them depositing an ammunition pouch beside Riaz. Debra smiled weakly, ‘We have two tanks and armoured cars now!’
Riaz spun round, his eyes glaring, ‘They had three tanks, self-propelled guns and artillery pieces…look what is left…It did not help them!’
Shino placed her hand on his shoulder as tears of frustration filled his eyes, ‘Yes, and they have to get along that track to get to us…not easy mate!’ Her voice tailed off as the hover tank spluttered past them, smoke billowing from its exhaust system, several wounded and bloody soldiers clinging to the sides, their faces solemn in their despondency.
The second jeep pulled through the barricades, the commander leaping out before it came to a stop, indicating for medics to attend to the wounded in the rear. Captain Dugachard strode up to him, the man wiping his face with his gloves, blood soaking trough his combats beneath his shoulder armour. She glanced at his wound, lowering her eyes, ‘I will get you medical attention.’
The Armoured Brigade commander shook his head, his voice determined, ‘Not before my men.’ He raised his fist to his chest in salute as she returned the gesture, her rank subordinate to his, ‘What is your strength here captain?’
Captain Dugachard’s eyes widened slightly, ‘Probably about one hundred and fifty before your men arrived…we evacuated the mine, but lost a lot of personnel in the process.’
The commander raised his arm slowly, wincing, ‘Any communication with our main unit, the sixteenth division?’
Captain Dugachard shook her head, ‘No Sir, the radios are jammed. We have the road south out of the village covered, it is the only way in or out of the valley…the terrain is too rugged to cross otherwise.’
The commander pursed his lips in frustration, his anger rising, ‘This enemy knows no restrictions captain…if they can cross, they will get behind us.’ He shook his head thinking, ‘We need to get word to the sixteenth to the south…otherwise our war will end here.’ He sniffed, his eyes seeming moist as he wiped dirt from his face.
Captain Dugachard straightened, ‘We are in a good defensive position commander…I believe we can hold here until reinforcements arrive. Those were my orders…secure the town and the mine if possible…await reinforcements.’
The commanders young eyes seemed tired, dark lines beneath them, his uniform filthy as he spoke slowly, ‘Captain…this is not a skirmish. The Morgons are launching an offensive through this terrain aimed at splitting our rear forces.’ He shrugged incredulously, ‘Who would have thought of an offensive through here…narrow ravines, bottlenecks, terrain unsuitable for armour, no air support…only them!’
The captain looked cautiously at him, ‘How do you know it’s an offensive, Sir?’
The commander looked her straight in the eyes, his expression grave, ‘Because they are moving up many walkers…infiltrator units and reconnaissance troops…some of their crack units. We have just been torn to bits trying to escape…’ He pointed dejectedly to the black smoke plumes on the horizon, ‘That is some of my best armour burning captain!’
Chapter Twenty Eight: Day Four
The last RAF fighter jet in the skies over England swept alongside the M1 motorway. At the controls, the pilot was filled with adrenalin and fear, his mission to London cut short as he and his wingman were ‘bounced’ by two Morgon fighters coming out of the sun towards them. His wingman was dead, his plane exploding in a ball of flame as the Morgon pilot claimed his third victim of the day, the two dark black alien fighters relentlessly pursuing the remaining jet low across the English countryside.
Flying at just over one hundred metres above the ground, the pilot weaved his jet frantically, the Morgons chasing him up the side of the motorway as the vehicles queued on the route north, the route south virtually empty. People were leaving London and the south east, and quickly.
Laser flashes hit the ground either side of him as he frantically manoeuvred the jet across the terrain, a rising fear gaining momentum through his body as he began to realise he would not escape. A bus exploded on the motorway next to him as laser blasts tore up the carriageway, the Morgon jets powering through the rising black smoke and causing it to swirl in their wake.
Tears filled the young pilot’s eyes as he thought of his fiancé, the girl he loved sitting worried at her parents’ house, awaiting news of the air war and his fate. He glanced down, seeing the fuel indicators flicker as the jet powered forward at full thrust, eating the remaining fuel at an accelerated rate due to his dramatic and desperate flying.
Sweeping past the motorway turn off to Luton North, the blue junction sign shaking as he applied maximum thrust to his jet engines, the Morgons gaining on his aircraft as they began to line up to shoot him down. He swallowed hard as he heard the beeping of his on-board computer, the aircraft warning him the enemy was gaining missile lock.
A tear rolled down his face as his mind wandered, the inevitability of his fate seeming sealed as he jerked the controls to the left, shafts of red laser lights sweeping past and throwing up debris from the ground as they tore up the earth.
He stiffened as the radio static burbled in his ear, then an unfamiliar voice broke through the noise, the commands harsh, ‘Bank Left! Bank Left!’
He hesitated, unsure of the source of the voice, then pulled the stick hard to his left, the plane sweeping round to the west as it banked sharply in the sky at almost maximum speed. He jumped at the massive explosion behind him, the first Morgon fighter rising sharply into the air as flames poured from its rear end.
Banking the RAF jet fully round, his eyes opened in amazement as the stricken Morgon fighter seemed to hang briefly in the air, then plummet to earth, crashing through the many communication masts south of Daventry and exploding in a fireball, a large plume of black smoke rising into the air.
He stared at the second Morgon craft, the pilot desperately banking the jet black fighter hard right hard as he saw his wingman explode, the sun catching the canopy, a sparkle of light from the reflection. The craft exploded, flipping over and exploding again into a small copse of trees on the ground, the fire shooting upwards into the sky as the craft disintegrated on impact.
As the bewildered RAF fighter pilot levelled his aircraft, his hands shaking as he glanced round frantically for any possible anti-aircraft batteries that could have inflicted such damage. Then he froze, his head turning slowly to look at the craft that he sensed slowly drawing alongside his right side.
He bit his lips, his tongue tasting blood at the sleek silver fighter jet that drew alongside, blinking as the light flickered off its wings and canopy. The craft was thin, its four laser cannons pointing out from the front of the craft menacingly as he raised a hand as a gesture of thanks.
The blast armour covering the cockpit of the silver craft swept back, a black dressed pilot with armoured uniform waving back, his pointed hand jabbing towards the RAF fighter’s left.
His head spun left in response, seeing another sleek craft draw alongside, the blast shield sweeping back. Blinking to force the tears from his eyes as a Red Leopard’s head seemed to snarl at him, the marking adorning the side of the space fighte
r upon a shield with two swords behind. The other pilot waved, the radio started surging as a voice broke into the RAF pilot’s headpiece, ‘You had better land soon comrade…your aircraft says it is nearly out of fuel!’
The RAF pilot nodded in stunned silence, receiving one more departing wave from both Trevakian pilots as the two jets swept forward and upwards into the sky before him, both rolling in victory then banking away sharply to the west, new targets appearing on their sensors. He stared after them, seeing flashes in the distance as Trevakian interceptors swept across the English sky chasing their black Morgon prey. The momentum of the air war had just shifted.
As all Morgon fighters across southern England and beyond were recalled in a desperate attempt to defend their mother ship, Vice Admiral Chergui stared at the viewing screen at the end of his bridge, the vast Morgon vessel beginning to turn on its axis as it tried in vain to escape.
He spun round to his nearby first officer, excitement crossing his face as he indicated with a flick of his fingers towards the target ship, ‘Take out their engines and defences…leave them helpless. We can at least give them the chance to surrender then!’ He watched as a Trevakian Interceptor Fighter swept past the viewing window, its laser guns firing bursts at the Morgon fighter it pursued, banking swiftly and chasing the black aircraft across space towards it’s mother ship.
The first officer shook his head, shrugging, ‘You know they will never surrender…they will try and ram us rather than give up. Why are we showing them any mercy?’
The ensign nearby swung round in his chair, her face grave as the lights from her panel flashed behind him, ‘Sensors report the Morgons are arming their torpedoes Sir!’
Vice Admiral Chergui gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply, ‘Very well…they will target the cruisers, that’s all they can accomplish before we finish them.’ He turned to his first officer, ‘I am not losing any men or precious ships. Let’s not give them the opportunity…target their bridge and weapons, hit the torpedoes in their tubes.’ He stepped back, folding his arms decisively, ‘End this…now!’
The first officer nodded formally, indicating to another ensign on the other side of the Vice Admiral, his voice low, ‘Prepare to fire all forward torpedoes…’
The missile crewman turned slowly in his seat, his hands running across the screen in front of him, a voice tinged with excitement, ‘Powering forward tubes…’
Vice Admiral Chergui placed his hands behind his back, staring at the viewing screen as the Morgon ship slowly turned further, its engineers desperately attempting to arm their rear missiles to combat any threat.
The ensign glanced up from the screen before him, staring at the Vice Admiral, his breath held, ‘Tubes powered Sir…ready to fire…’
The Admiral smiled grimly, his fingers twitching nervously as he licked his lips, his adrenalin rising as his voice whispered, ‘Fire!’
The ensign swept his hand across the screen, red lights flashing as all the torpedo launchers activated. The Vice Admiral glanced at his first officer as a female electronic voice filled the bridge, ‘Torpedo launch activated…countdown commencing…5-4-3-2-1…Torpedo launch successful.’
The first officer smiled faintly at his commander, the Vice Admiral winking, ‘Let’s hope our new allies are suitably impressed…’ His face turned back to the screen, twelve green lights surging forward from the base of the viewing window, the torpedoes flying out across space.
Vice Admiral Chergui stared at the screen, his voice emotionless, ‘Reload and fire again...’
The ensign nodded sharply, ‘Yes Sir!’ He swept his hand across the screen, tapping the individual weapons indicated before him.
The first officer watched intently as the green lights got smaller, the laser turrets on the Morgon ship twisting and firing red light in desperate defence, attempting to hit the incoming torpedoes. A flash before the large vessel as a torpedo detonated, one laser turrets successful fire intercepting its path.
The first laser guided torpedo swept into the Morgon landing platform, detonating as it smashed though the rear wall, flames and debris flying from the opening as the ship shuddered. Explosion after explosion rocked the vessel, the armour unable to protect it against such force.
Vice Admiral Chergui twitched again nervously as the explosions continued, the large vessel on their viewing screen shuddering each time a detonation rocked it. Seeing a laser turret blasted from the hull, the large debris pieces expanding out into space from the explosion.
The ensign nearby, glanced at his screen, his mouth dry, ‘Second torpedo salvo ready Sir…’
The Vice Admiral nodded slowly as he saw the explosions across the enemy vessel, the hull breached on two levels, crew members and soldiers being sucked out of the holes in the craft into the zero atmosphere, their bodies imploding under the pressure. He sighed slowly, glancing down at the screen, ‘Fire again…finish them!’
The ensign nodded, his eyes moving to the viewing screen as he tapped the screen below him, his endless practising and training enabling him to launch virtually blindfolded. The voice started again, ‘Second torpedo launch activated…countdown commencing…5-4-3-2-1…Torpedo launch successful.’
As the green dots of the torpedo engines swept forward once more, the Morgon ship in the far distance shuddered, fragments breaking from the ship as it twisted in space, the hull shaking as it struggled against the atmospheric pressure. Flames flashed from the entrance to the landing platform, then extended across the holes in the hull as the oxygen supply ignited, the ship beginning to lower slowly at one end. As the torpedoes exploded against the outer hull, more fragments flew from the large ship, some heading towards the earth’s atmosphere.
The first officer pointed excitedly, ‘Sir…they are losing control! They are finished!’
Chapter Twenty Nine: Defensive Positions
Riaz stared into the distance down the track, the dust blowing across their defensive positions in the gradual breeze. Wiping his face with his gloves, he turned to Shino next to him seeing her blank expression, ‘When do you think they will come?’ Black smoke plumes drifted above the rocks in the distance, the clouds dispersing eastwards in the breeze.
The mixed Philippine shrugged, her eyes tired, ‘I don’t know…at night?’
Debra leant forward next to the smaller woman, shuffling her footing as she crouched, ‘Want to do a double security archway now?’ She grinned, seeing the other two smirk in response.
Riaz shook his head, ‘It seems so long ago now…but it is only a couple of days. Life has changed, and changed forever I think.’
Shino smiled to herself, then her lips parted in a wide grin, ‘Imagine what the airline passengers would have thought if we were dressed like this…I bet there would have been no arguments then!’
Riaz pushed her shoulder playfully, Shino nearly toppling over as they laughed. Debra steadied her, their laughter and grins drawing confused and baffled stares from the marines and militia to either side.
They spun round as the damaged Hover tank’s engine burbled, the vehicle slowly rising as the power charged the magnetics beneath the hull. The tank commander grinned as his crewman appeared in the forward hatch, a wise smile on his face, ‘I got it started commander, but it may only be a matter of time before it breaks down again.’
The commander nodded, indicating with his right hand, ‘Move up to the northern edge of the village…target the track in the valley for walkers…that’s where they will come from.’
The driver waved in response, disappearing back into the armoured vehicle, the tank lurching forward and moving slowly towards the exit from the hamlet.
Captain Dugachard stared through her binoculars from the tower behind them, seeing small armoured figures moving across the valley in the distance, the tenseness rising in her stomach as she took in the sheer number of troops moving into position.
Sam glanced up at her from his sniper sight, his breath sharp as he saw the enemy soldiers in the distance, �
�Can we hold against that many Ma’am?’
The captain looked down at him, a grim smile forming on her face, ‘We will see shortly Sam I think…they are getting ready to attack us.’ As he looked back down the scope on the sniper rifle, a shiver swept through her, knowing the numbers she now saw facing them were far too many.
A shout from the defensive positions caused her to look down, the marine pointing out over the valley, his voice rising with his adrenalin, ‘Enemy movement in the distance!’
She raised the glasses to her eyes again, twisting the zoom as she panned across the terrain, then stopping at the view on the corner in the track, the dust swirling around the rocks. Moving the binoculars along the jagged rock, she froze as she glanced the sliver of black pass across the top of the rocks, the breeze blowing dust across her view.
The shout from below confirmed her worst fears, the marine turning to call up to her, ‘Walker to the north!’
Captain Dugachard lowered the glasses to glance down, biting her lip as she sucked air into her throat. She raised the glasses again, seeing the long black legs emerge for the behind the rocks, the first walker preceding another sliver of black across the top of the terrain.
The walker turned on the track, the mechanical legs twisting as the pilot pulled his controls to the left, the two black helmets visible in the open cockpit. As the captain watched, the armoured blast shield rose above the pilot and his gunner in the walker, the black legs stepping forward again as it began to move towards them.
Shouts filled the air as nervous marines and militia saw the sight before them, some distance away, a second walker emerging behind the first. Captain Dugachard looked down at Sam, her voice firm, ‘Aim at the pilots as they emerge…take them out! Take a shot at their blast screen…let’s see how tough it is.’
The Last Marine in the Galaxy (Galaxies Collide Book 1) Page 27
