(foreword)
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 16: The Hydra Strikes
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Dieter heard the explosion in the distance and then looked over the pass on the other side of the forest and cursed as a massive lumbering tank-like machine rumbled forward at a snail's pace.
The construct was huge, roughly the size of a two-story house. It held three large turrets, each with four large guns protruding around the circumfrance. Every time a cannon fired, the turret rotated to the next gun and when that one fired, it rotated again. This kept on until either the enemy surrendered, retreated, or they were crushed. The base of the machine was a 'Merrimack-style' bunker that also held cannons and machineguns and along the sides were multiple 'blisters' that held a low caliber cannon and a coaxial machinegun.
Dieter stood open-mouthed in shock as he beheld the monstrocity, not because he didn't know what it was, but because he couldn't possible have imagined the rumors about it were true or that it could actually be deployed here of all places.
Wolff got the same incredulous look on his face when he saw it as well.
"What in the name of all that's holy is that?!" Dieter frowned and watched the machine move towards the Praetorian camp.
"That, Wolff, is what was originally the southern battery of Fort Hydra. I'd only heard rumors that Mechanos had decommissioned the fort and had it dismantled but to actually see the proof before my own eyes is something else entirely."
Wolff recalled rumors that the historic fort had been disassembled by Mechanos' order stating that the fort was 'the epitome of human stupidity' but never did he imagine that making the battery move was Mechanos' true intention all along. He turned to Dieter and became serious.
"How did this happen?" Dieter shrugged.
"I knew Mechanos was working on a project to replace the Olympus but to actually build the thing as quickly as that and also transport it...there had to be a massive ship to even carry the thing."
"Captain, what should we do?"
"Pray. Pray that the Praetorians can hold out until their allies launch their own attacks. I don't know why, but I suddenly want to blame Marks for this somehow..."
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(on board the Rotiart Mobile Bunker 'Hydra')
In the radio room of the Rotiart superweapon, the Hydra's commander listened to the voice of Lord Mechanos with undivided attention. He, along with his senior officers, were present for the briefing.
"Commander, this front in Avalon is taking too long. I have sent you here to ensure that, even though the blitz was blunted by these Syllian reinforcements, Warfang falls. I have also failed to hear back from the X-9 that was sent to bomb the city earlier and thus your mission is two-fold. Capture Warfang and end Syllian and Praetorian meddling in this area and find and recover the X-9 or whatever is left of it. If it crashed into the city, we cannot have the Syllians sending it back to James de Launces and having him decypher its purpose. Remember, failure isn't an option."
The commander keyed the mike and gave his reply.
"We shall not fail you my Lord. One question though, what of our 'allies'?"
"Once Warfang is dealt with, you can deal with the gnorcs however you like. They have proved themselves too much trouble and too unreliable to be of any further use to me. Complete this assignment, and I shall ensure your promotion."
The radio went dead as static filled the room and the Commander turned to his officers.
"Return to your posts, all of you. Lieutenant Fleming, a word with you."
All the officers except for one filed out of the office as the Commander drew a folder from the desk and proceeded to sit at the desk.
"Now then, Lieutenant, you were transferred under my command shortly before we deployed. While I haven't made any significant inquiries into your previous assignments, I wanted to ask you as to why you wanted to join us on this particular mission."
The lieutenant clicked his heels and saluted proudly.
"I wanted to serve my country as best I could sir. I may be on in my years but I'm still far more experienced than any of these youngers." The Commander sighed and nodded.
"Indeed. The old guard like you and I are becoming extinct. These young people believe they have to fight as hard as they can but that's only half of it. They must learn to crush their enemies without remorse or mercy."
The officer remained stoic and tightlipped as the commander continued.
"Now then, Lieutenant, onto the reason I asked you in here. Why did you transfer from your previous post?"
The officer's face was completely shadowed as the commander asked this, as if he were contemplating his next action. The commander repeated the question again and this time the officer looked up and gave a ghost of a smile.
"I wanted to end the war. To do that, this machine, and you, must be stopped."
The commander went wide-eyed in rage at the insolence until he saw the Lieutenant produce a silenced Syllian pistol from his coat and fire two shots into the commander's chest. After barring the door, the man went to the desk and found some documents detailing the design of the machine as well as papers referring to something known as 'Project Blackwing'.
He quickly undid the binding in his coat and placed the documents there with the others he had stolen from right under Mechanos' nose and then exited the office and locked the door to ensure no one would 'disturb' the commander.
Nathaniel Sharps, spymaster and head of Syllian Intelligence, decided to call his mission a success and to now get the intel to the soldiers in Warfang. Wasting little time, he got to the radio room, silenced the clerk, and barred the door to begin transmitting.
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Bertram couldn't believe his eyes at the size of the machine that was slowly crawling towards them. The Praetorians, true to form, were throwing everthing but the kitchen sink at incoming gnorc infantry and smaller tanks while the fighters and gunship were peppering the supertank.
All apparently to no avail as the machine kept crawling towards them. The commander looked at him and shrugged.
"All we can do is hold off the enemy forces but against that tank we're helpless! Captain de Launces, please withdraw!" Bertram shook his head and instead reached for a nearby bolt-action rifle, grenade belt, and even grabbed a pack of rounds for an M50 Mortar. The commander looked at Bertram aghast as he smiled and started to walk out of the tent.
"Retreat has never been in a de Launces' dictionary. My father never ran and neither am I." The men in the tent looked at Bertram with impressed expressions as the commander pulled his officer's cap off and replaced it with a helmet.
"Oh what the hell. If we are to die, then at least let us die fighting and take as many of the bastards with us as we possibly can, am I right?"
The cheering was deafening as Bertram exited the tent with the commander right behind him. After taking a second to see where a mortar was, he ran over to it and dropped off the shells before running to the barricade where several soldiers were firing their rifles into the oncoming enemy force.
A few second later, mortar rounds began falling on the advancing forces. The gnorcs hesitated and actually fell back for a moment letting the tanks roll forward without protection. At that moment, the Rotiart MPz-3 rotated its turret and fired on the barricade. Bertram eased back up and looked around and saw something he wished he hadn't.
The bazooka operator and his loader were dead.
Thinking quickly, Bertram tossed the rifle aside and made a dead sprint for the fallen anti-tank weapon. Bullets from the now advancing LPz-1s and 2s pelted the barricade but somehow none of the rounds touched him. He picked up the bazooka and fitted the wooden buffer to his shoulder and looked through the side mounted sights and zeroed in on the MPz-3.
Once the tank was lined up, Bertram pulled the trigger and felt the recoil as the bazooka fired.
The round flew straight and true, striking the tank's machinegun blister on the front. There was a gout of flame and then a powerful explosion lifted the turret off the tank and sent it flying backwards and landing on a squad of gnorc soldiers. The treads blew away sending shrapnel into the ranks, the frame buckled and the whole tank chassis dropped flat and burned as the fuel tank ruptured.
Unfaltering, the LPz-1s and LPz-2s renewed their attack and focused exclusively on Bertram's position. Bertram dove for cover behind an outcropping of rocks that was part of the barricade. Then, he heard a roaring sound and looked up to see Ayatane's plane drop from the sky in a steep dive and strafe the tanks. The armor on the closest LPz-1 was no match for the upgraded cannons and was riddled with holes.
A second later, a large 'BOOM' was heard and a 37mm shell from the gunship slammed another LPz-2. The other planes from the squadron began dropping and strafing the tanks and infantry. Their hope restored, the Praetorian forces began fighting back hard. Every round hit its mark, every man was as good as a sniper. Then, a siren sounded from the large supertank that had been closing slowly and a voice came from the machine.
"Attention! Attention! The Hydra will commense bombardment! All allies fall back to safety positions!" Bertram saw the huge turrets beginning to rotate to the next salvo.
"Oh shit."
He braced for the blast that would end him but then he heard a series of loud noises from behind him. Nearby, a portable radio came to life.
"This is the 333rd Heavy Artillery Division! Payload going out, keep your heads down!"
Seconds later over forty explosions impacted the Hydra. Several of its smaller guns were knocked out but the large turrets were better armored than that and then unexpectedly raised and opened fire.
The noise was deafening as the cannons roared. As the shells arced, the radio came on again.
"This is the 333rd, we've been hit! Severe damage to guns and several casualties! Damn! How'd they do that?!"
The radio crackled for a moment and then someone else came on the radio.
"This is Nathaniel Sharps to any allied forces. I am on board the Hydra. Listen, I was present when the machine was builtand there are a few key flaws you should be aware of."
The commander angrily grabbed the radio and cursed into it.
"I don't give a damn who you are, this radio is for military use only!" Bertram quickly grabbed the radio from the commander and then keyed it.
"General Sharps? This is Bertram de Launces, remember me?" There was a laugh on the other end.
"Remember you? Boy, my foot still hurts where you stepped on it a few years back when you were just learning how to shift into dragon form! What the hell are you doing on the ground? I thought you were a pilot?" Bertram chuckled remembering the incident and then nodded to the commander.
"Long story. Hey, you said something about weaknesses in the machine?"
"Yeah, I was going over the blueprints and noticed a few things. The first is that the engines are under an incredible strain to move this thing. All they need is a bazooka shell or perhaps a few 20mm cannon rounds to disable them. The only way to reach the engines from outside however, are two vents on either side near the rear that are not very thick and can be easily broken through. Shoot through those vents and you'll hit the engines and disable this thing. Another is that this tank was once part of a fortress, that being said, it may have electricity but it isn't insulated. I trust you know what that means?" The commander looked to Bertram with a confused expression.
"What does he mean Captain?" Bertram smiled and then changed frequencies.
"This is Bertram de Launces to Warfang. Calling Warfang! We need a wing of lightning or electric dragons out at our location ASAP. We have encountered an enemy vehicle that can only be destroyed by lightning or electrical attacks. It's the only thing standing between us and Concurrent Skies as well as the Lair of Tomar the Wise!"
The commander looked at him curiously but Bertram smiled.
"Be patient."
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Spyro lay where he had remained beside Cynder. He was worried for not only his mate but also for Bertram. Thera had made a habit of keeping a radio in the house and listening to any broadcasts about her brothers. He was in the middle of a doze when the silent radio sprang to life.
"This is Bertram de Launces to Warfang. Calling Warfang! We need a wing of lightning or electric dragons out at our location ASAP. We have encountered an enemy vehicle that can only be destroyed by lightning or electrical attacks. It's the only thing standing between us and Concurrent Skies as well as the Lair of Tomar the Wise!"
Spyro perked up and gazed at the radio in disbelief. Had he heard right? The counterspell was just beyond one enemy? He gazed at his mate's still form and thought he saw a glimmer from her eyes. He gave her an affectionate lick on the cheek and rose. As he turned to leave, he heard a voice from behind and saw his grandson, Ryu, standing there and staring at him with an expression of surprise. Spyro nodded.
"Tell your mother I've gone out for a while. There's something that I need to do."
He left the house leaving a stunned Ryu in the room with Cynder. As he walked the streets, people gave way to him as he belatedly realized that he had a look on his face that practically screamed 'Don't get in my way'. He shrugged off their glances and went to the Dracocorps base in Warfang and found his son making preparations to fly to Bertram's aid. The wing caught first glimpse of him and the wing's commander, a young electric dragon, hastily got Ignitus' attention. As he turned and saw his father, his eyes went wide.
"Fath-" Spyro hushed him with one claw raised in the same manner a human would raise a finger.
"I'm going." Ignitus stood there, completely dumbfounded as Spyro came forward and stood before the wing.
"I've decided I'm done sitting on my tail and sulking. We know where Tomar's lair is and if saving Cynder means defeating an enemy weapon then so be it. Have the wing ready to take off immediately. Be warned though, I'll be flying fast so don't expect or ask me to slow down. Lives are on the line, not just soldiers or other dragons. The lives of my mate depends on us finding that lost lair and Bertram de Launces, my son's brother-in-law, is also in danger and I never leave family behind." With that, Spyro leapt into the air, pelting everyone around him with bits of dirt and dust as his great wings lifted him skyward.
As he settled on the course for the battle, he was aware of the wing taking off and settling in alongside him in a hybrid 'squadron/defence' formation.
(I'll save them. I have to.)
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While the squadron certainly was surprised by the enemy superweapon crawling towards the front, they had more pressing concerns. The bomber wing that had taken off that morning was now returning and they were being swarmed with enemy fighters. Furthermore, they were in a sort of 'double jeopardy' as they had sighted a formation of bombers coming at the front as well. Jake was the first to see the bombers and Ayatane heard him over the radio.
"Enemy above! Enemy above! Bombers, one o'clock high!" Ayatane quickly saw the bombers and then gave out the orders for the squadron.
"Hammer, take Archer and Chaser and stay with those bombers. The rest of us will engage the enemy bombers."
"Hammer copies. Good luck."
Ayatane angled his plane towards the enemy formation and pushed the throttle all the way forward. The four bladed propellor and supercharged engine roared loudly as it thundered through the sky. Taking a bead on the lead bomber, Ayatane squeezed the trigger on the flight stick and felt the still impressive recoil of the weapons as they fired. He held the trigger for a three second burst and was pleased to see his rounds rip through the bomber mid-fuselage. The bomber's entire tail section gave a loud 'pop' as the weakened frame finally buckled, twisted, and broke away.
He spared a glance and saw the other planes in his group firing as well and each managed to down a bomber. Gnorc fighters as well as some Rotiart fighters were now in the mix but it hardly mattered as the planes lacked the markings of truly 'experienced' fighter pilots. Most likely this entire formation was nothing but recruits eager to cut their teeth on an easy escort mission.
Ayatane squeezed the trigger in reflex as a Rotiart plane literally flew into his gunsights and stayed there. A second later, another rookie executed a poorly timed split S and slammed into a gnorc fighter which then crashed into a wounded enemy bomber. The rookies were bringing down as many of themselves and their allies as Ayatane and his squadron was.
A second later he saw tracers fly by and strike Miller's plane. The P-31 began spewing smoke and he heard Miller's voice through the radio.
"Shit, that was close! Bastard nearly scrambled my brains with that pass. I'm dropping low Hayate, I'm out of the fight, Rapier returning to base. Anyone see that bastard, neuter the sonofabitch for me."
"Mace here, I see the bastard. Rotarian plane, all black, red highlights, ID is...RS4-22F. Any ideas as to who the hell this is?" As if in answer, the radio piped up.
"This is Warfang Aerial Command. Mace, could you repeat that ID?" Jake keyed the radio and repeated the ID.
"Royal, Samson, Four dash Two-Two, Foxbat."
There was a pause for a moment before the radio came on again.
"Mace, Hayate, can you engage that plane? It is being flown by Lieutenant Hershiel Koltur, he's a pilot for Mechanos' R&D division and is also a highly decorated ace. If we can capture him, he may provide some insight into Mechanos' research and what Rotiart is up to." Ayatane kept Koltur's plane in his sight and then angled his nose down and began to pursue him.
"This is Hayate, I'm on him."
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Barring the Hydra, Bertram though the ground battle was going well. Though the Praetorians had suffered some casualties, they were holding their own.
He was forced to rethink that as a shell from the Hydra impacted the far side of the barricade, flattening six soldiers.
The riflemen were running out of ammunition, the mortars had long since ceased firing. Of the some one-hundred fifty men they had started with, only forty were still alive. Reyson's flight had been blindsided by an enemy attack force and the trasport that was meant to evac him had been lost and now the squadron that was meant to reinforce them was engaged elsewhere. A section of the Syllian 412th Armored, more commonly known as the 'Iron Legion', had been dispatched to aid them but was bogged down as well. As things stood, this section of the front was the weakest.
Bertram was sure the enemy knew that and was focusing all their reserve firepower on this one five mile stretch of the front.
At the moment, Bertram was down to his sidearm as his rifle had run out of bullets everyone around him was down to their last strip-clips. The commander of the force Bertram had been fighting alongside had been wounded and had been dragged from the line leaving Bertram in charge as well as leaving him with his own sidearm and the rounds with it.
Bertram had initially found this odd, leaving a Syllian pilot in charge of Praetorian soldiers, yet the situation was cleared up when the next highest ranking soldier, a Master Sergeant, told him he was the only officer left uninjured. The soldier was near him, rleaying his orders to the group when the shell from the Hydra impacted. Seeing six men fall at once, Bertram turned to his second-in-command.
"Master Sergeant! Have the men spread out. We can't hold out much longer if the bastards can take us out six or ten at a time! Have the rest of them men divide into groups of two and take up positions along the line. Furthermore, we're losing rounds too quickly, some of the men are firing in a blind panic. Have these men surrender their weapons and carry the ammunition for those who can shoot. We'll do what the Tellanians did at the Battle of Retorinc." The Master Sergeant turned to him, curious.
"If you'll forgive me sir, no Praetorian soldiers were there. What did they do?" Bertram remembered the soldiers well during the rare time he had on the ground in between sorties.
"Give the rifles to the best marksmen in the group, give the others ammunition. If the riflemen get killed, the second man takes the rifle and continues fighting." The Master Sergeant nodded and then issued the orders. He then turned to three men near him.
"Blakes, Connors, Wesley, you three are the only men we have left fit to call themselves snipers. Take what rounds you need, take positions close, but not too close, to us and begin to snipe any and all targets that enter your sights." The three men nodded, grabbed some spare ammunition from the bodies fo their fallen comrades, moved to positions near Bertram and the Master Sergeant and began their attacks.
Through the small hole where Bertram had been watching the forces and firing his rifle and later his sidearm through, he saw the results of the snipers instantly.
Focusing only on the enemy officers, the snipers began instilling their trademark style of terror into the enemy ranks. Officers that stood proudly at the head of the seemingly 'victorious' army began falling three at a time, each with a single bullet wound to the head. Those that weren't targeted immediatley dove for whatever cover was available. Most cover being the destroyed and burning husks of the tanks and the advance ground to a halt.
The enemy forces, though stalled were now almost 'within spitting distance' of the Praetorian lines and a few were even braving the withering fire to engage in hand to hand combat. The Praetorians, armed with rifle mounted bayonets and 'knuckleduster' combat knives, engaged those who dared to come close enough. Bertram saw one soldier's bayonet actually break loose from the fitting on the barrel and the quick witted soldier reversed his grip on the rifle and used it as a club to bash the gnorc's brains out. The soldier then swung the weapon in an 'golf style' swing and connected with the chin of a Rotiart soldier.
Another soldier has forsaken his rifle and instead held two saber bayonets and was cutting a bloody swath through the melee. Another had a revolver and knuckleduster and was fighting fiercely, another had traded his sidearm to a comrade and was dual-wielding knuckledusters while his friend was duel-wielding revolvers. One big bodied Praetorian was even swinging the bazooka around and bashing heads in with it.
Suddenly there was a gnorc before him and Bertram took aim with his sidearm and pulled the trigger.
'Click!'
Bertram's eyes went wide as the gnorc advanced, a grin spreading over his face. Around him the others were all engaged in their own battles and he thought he heard the Master Sergeant call out to him. The gnorc started to charge at him, sword raised when there was a blinding flash and loud crack accompanied by a shriek from the direction the gnorc had been.
When Bertram dared to open his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a pile of ashes where the gnorc had once stood and following the sound of wingbeats he looked up and saw a dragon he recognized quickly.
"Uncle Zakwel!"
Zakwel gave a smile and a nod to his nephew and then turned away to rejoin the group of dragons winging their way to the Hydra. Leading that formation was none other than Spyro, and even from where he was, Bertram could see electricity and lightning arcing from his scales and horns. He was mad and he was NOT going to show restraint on the enemy.
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Hello everyone. Sorry for the long, long, long, long wait on the story update. I had a LOT of things going on at home with my dad and my mom so I wasn't able to type as fast as I should have, plus I had recurring writer's block and actually pulled some muscles fixing the AC at the house as well as getting rid of a broken washing machine and installing a new one.
Go figure.
Anyway, for those of you who didn't or don't know, I am now on DeviantART and I am beginning to post some digital art from my stories (maps, vehicles, devices, etc.) as well as posting some of my writing there. Be sure to drop by and visit as my door, or in this case webpage, is always open.
It may be a while before my next update so just to let you all know.
As always, please review, PM, fav, or follow.
Next Time: Beheading the Hydra: Charge Into Concurrent Skies!