CHAPTER 4: Backup
1200 HOURS
Under the H.Q
The tram sped on through the underground tunnel network that the Orange Star used as an emergency escape route. Nell, Andy and Donna sat in the cart, eager to reach the nearest city and call in backup units to assist the soldiers above ground, who were fighting a losing battle. They held their ground near the outskirts of the city, fighting to survive. Time was running out. If help wasn't sent for soon, there'd be no one left. But a ray of hope beamed through. A light at the end of the tunnel shone over 2 double doors at the end of the expanse. Andy slammed the brake button, drawing the cart to a halt at the dismount station. The track headed on past the door, no doubt to other cities.
The three climbed out and charged towards the doors. Nell whammed a large red button mounted on the door near the wall with her palm. An alarm sounded and a voice came through on the intercom; 'Who's there? State your name and your business immediately or you will be neutralised without restraint!' Nell spoke up instantly. 'This is Nell of the Orange Star! We request entry! As you know, the city that we were stationed in has been attacked by Eagle's forces! The H.Q has been demolished! There are forces trapped above ground trying to survive!' The voice came through again, crystal clear; 'Enter you code!' Nell punched in 20 numbers with the tips of her fingers. Andy was shocked at the thought of having to remember a code like that. Now he knew why he wasn't higher in command than he is. The doors opened to 50 men, armed and ready to fire. 'Identity confirmed! At ease!' came a voice. A tall, stern looking man appeared from aside of the door. He shook Nell's hand. 'Good to see you're well. Are these 2 with you?'
'Indeed they are. I'm sure you'll remember Mr Andrews.' The man brought his friendly gaze to Andy. 'Ah, Mr Andrews. Greetings.' Andy shook the man's hand and nodded. 'And you are?' He said in a kind but harsh voice to Donna.
'I'm just a secretary.' He shook and nodded once more. He began to proceed up the 500 steps, followed by Andy and Nell. 'I'm afraid your friend must be escorted elsewhere in the premises. No risks can be taken.' Nell understood, and Donna was led off to another side of the room.
Back on the battlefield, numbers were falling steadily, about a man a minute falling. Max's tank unit held their ground, picking off enemies in no particular order, unable to purge the infinite flow of incoming transport boats. More and more kept hitting down and unleashing tanks, infantry and all that jazz, anything in order to take the city and crush the Orange Star. Eagle's actions still remained wholly unexplained, with no one having any clue as to who he was working for or why he was attacking the Orange Star. All they knew was he was now Eagle of the White sun. Whoever they were. He continued to circle overhead in his Death Squadron. Things looked grim. Things looked very, very grim.
'We need you to send backup forces immediately! Look, if we lose the city, we're basically folding to these White Sun people! It's one of the Orange Star's key positions, you know that! It's coastal! Losing it would be key to our downfall!' Nell's voice was raised and burning with desperation. The man considered. 'You're correct. We at the Orange Star have to look out for each other, no? I'll send forces immediately.'
Kensie sat with his back against the remains of a building. He was sitting next to his best friend. He'd met him years before. They recruited together. Now they were dying together. He kept leaning around the corner and firing off a few rounds before retreating back into cover. 'We gotta get out of here Kensie!' He said after firing a few more bullets off into the open with a vague hope of hitting something. 'I know! We have to get out, but there's no way!' His friend leaned out as Kensie was talking. 'Any ideas?' Kensie spoke as if he had a hope.
'Nope. I guess we just have to stick it out.' He replied, rolling back into cover. Earth and rubble blasted into the air beside them, the tank shell launching them up violently. Sami's voice rang out above the carnage; 'Move people! Keep moving!' All the soldiers ran between cover, some ducking, some firing, some charging blindly. Kensie and his friend Hendrix ran to the nearest structure, ducking, diving and firing as they went. They arrived at the building. The enemy infantry were pushing past the Orange Star tanks firing constantly, mowing down the enemy with gunfire and well placed grenades. The planes flew overhead, an omen of death. The Orange Star regiments were broken up now. Sami spoke again; 'REGROUP! BACK INTO REGIMENTS!' Kensie panicked. 'Where the hell are we meant to be?' Hendrix scanned the land for their Sergeant. 'He's over there!' He announced, his finger pointing firmly towards the man. 'Jesus! How the hell are we supposed to get over there!' The Sergeant was practically on the other side of the battlefield. 'On a stretcher?' Hendrix attempted to make light of the situation. It didn't work. 'Stop jokin' round! We're gonna die out here! We go on my signal. Ok…' The men prepared to charge. '…NOW!' They dashed out into the open as fast as their legs would allow. Another shell exploded, throwing Hendrix off his feet and out into the open. He instantly became the new target for the White Sun; infantry averted their aim and began to fire. Kensie continued to run, unaware of anything except the will to survive. Hendrix was shell shocked; the noise muffled, the world a blur. He rolled repeatedly, unable to stand. He did this blindly, unable to see any kind of cover. All of a sudden, vision returned, accompanied by the deafening noises that hit him hard like a bomb. He jumped up and began running. He only now realised he'd been shot in the arm in his lying state. The pain came to him searing and strong as he charged through the rubble, putting the limb out of action. Kensie had made it with his squad, and finally looked back to see Hendrix Make it into half-way cover; the ruins of a building. He took breaths and ran on, clutching his wounded arm. More shells tore up the dirt as he ran, his one goal his brotherhood of soldiers. He wasn't going to make it. They could all tell. The Sergeant began to shout; 'Give 'im cover fire, or hell knows he won't make it!' The squad came out of cover and began to fire. 'Jameson, Moore, he's wounded, go get 'im!' The men ran out bravely, one running whilst the over stayed a few steps behind, covering the man with suppressing fire. Moore grabbed him and supported him, Jameson still defending them with his gunfire. They ran as fast as they could. Jameson took a bullet to the head, piercing the centre of his flaking orange helmet and flying into his brain. His finger still remained on the trigger when he was dead, even when he fell. The bullets from his gun flew array with his downfall, firing erratically in all directions. One hit the man sitting next to Kensie, splintering his leg. He cried out in agony and collapsed. 'Someone get Jameson's gun before shoots the hell out of us all! A man ran out and stamped on the Jameson's corpses wrist, causing his fingers to fan out. He took his gun. He now had one in each hand. He pressed his fingers on the triggers and fired all the way back, killing three White Sun minions. The three arrived back safely, but Jameson remained dead.
Peter Henderson and Martyn Lane sat under the deck of a ship, locked in the dank brim with all the others the White Sun had laid mercy on. The ship was speeding back to a Prisoner of War camp. Everyone knew it. No one knew where it was. Peter kept repeating the same words again and again, his voice cold and his face blank. 'We're dead. We're dead. We're dead…' He wasn't helping keep the men's spirits high, to say the least. Martyn tried to calm him down; He placed his hand on his shoulder and spoke. 'It's gonna b-' He was cut off as Peter Threw him off and screamed directly in his face; 'WE'RE DEAD!' Martyn fell back. The prisoners jumped in reaction to the remark. One of them spoke. 'Jeez, someone call an exorcist or somethin'!' Martyn shook his head. Things were bad.
'OK! ARE WE ALL REGROUPED?' Sami was forced into using a megaphone to be heard over the shrill sounds of battle. The squads replied one by one. 'Yes m'am!'
'Regrouped, m'am!'
'Prepped an' ready!' The confirmations rang out through the ranks. The Sergeants all seemed eager to fight. No one else was. 'Ok people! We're not getting' out of this alive! It's time to push forward! Nice knowin' ya boys!' The people came out of hiding and into the open. Everything seemed to crawl to slow motion and blur as the men on the frontline opened fire, a suicidal strike to end it all. Explosions triggered, sending men flying about in a horrific manner. Soldiers became wounded and were killed. The tanks still fought on, about 10 remaining. Eagle's voice rang out over every radio on the field. 'SUFFER! SUFFER! What the?' The signal was lost, becoming nothing but white noise. Eyes turned to the sky as the man's plane spiralled to earth, flaming and missing a wing. All the Orange Star men turned back to a glorious sight.
Tanks, helicopters, planes, infantry, the whole package, storming the city by force, all guns blazing. Cheers rang out amongst the men. 'The cavalry has arrived!' The Orange Star were overcome with a new urge to fight. An urge to lead their nation to victory! Planes fell out of the sky, ships sank, Neo-tanks exploded in spectacular fashion. The battle raged on, the odds now tipped in favour of the men in orange. Andy's voice came through on the radios all round; 'Secure Eagle's plane! If he's alive, take him prisoner! His voice came from one of the transport helicopters. A group of men surrounded the wreckage and removed the man's unconscious body and carried him to a transport helicopter that had landed nearby. The copter was escorted off the field by to Panther class Attack Helicopters to ensure its safe return.
The ship took port on a small island. This was clearly where the source of the White Sun's units; there were harbours, barracks and airfields, all now relatively empty. The whole island was fenced off. The ship had come through a large gate guarded by SAM sites and machine gun nests. The White Sun clearly had things to hide. The prisoners were chained together by the hands and feet and led at gunpoint into an ultra-secure enclosure. Outside was a world of colour; in here all was bland and grey; dark and daunting. Extreme air conditioning meant everywhere was freezing cold. There were various huts, all identical in shape, size and colour; small grey cubicles housing a bed and a fireplace. On each mantle lay a box of matches. The fire was well stocked with plastic imitation wood. The matchbox was filled with matches with dud ends; their own little method of temperate torture; sinister but effective. The beds had no sheets, duvets or blankets. They consisted of a cold metal frame and a thin, hard mattress, under which the frame of the bed pressed through to cause back pain. There was a tunnel that led underground to various chambers of torture. Electro-shock, water torture, interrogation chamber, the list goes on. The men were forced to change into itchy grey shorts and vests and were marched into their respective 'house'. A voice came through surrounding speakers unspeakably loud; 'Let the re-education begin.'
After an hour of sitting in their rooms, the prisoners were led without a word into the dark underground. The voice came again 'Prepare to be disciplined!' They were each led into different rooms, all with the same form of 'discipline'. The men were chained to chairs in a pitch black room with full heating on. It was like a furnace, the hot air sapping at their energy. The only lighting in the room was a small lamp illuminating a glass of water, kept chilled by direct fans and ice. The doors slammed. The treatment lasted 24 hours. The chair delivered small electric shocks to prevent the men from falling asleep. Surely the brain workings of an evil man.
An Orange Star fighter swooped from the sky and unleashed a volley of spearhead missiles that pierced the bitter air of battle with violently great velocity. They exploded on impact, taking out 2 tanks and countless infantry. More birds of prey came swooping in, blinding white hawks on a pitch black canvas, majestic against the fog-filled sky, all in perfect formation, firing volleys of rounds into the enemy lines. Max leaned out of his tank and ordered his platoon to fire on the latest wave of White Sun Tanks. Shells flew through the air, punching holes in war-stained metal. The tides were turning in favour of the Orange Star.