Katsina, northern Nigeria 2. July 2016

Aabidija bent over the bucket again. She had just tried to drink something to quench her raving thirst and soothe her sore throat, but it when the water hit her stomach it had been ejected nearly immediately. She lost fluids a lot-she perspired a cold stinking sweat, she had diarrhea and she had started to vomit during the last hours. Some of that had a vicious black color that indicated blood that had been digested inside her stomach and when she cleaned herself there was blood too. If she could not keep herself hydrated she would die and soon.
Given the pain she was in she actually thought that this might be a good thing. She dropped back on her cot and found she could do nothing. She could not think straight-the pain and the fever made any longer thought impossible. She could not remember her good life before either, she could not sleep..
And then she dropped into unconsciousness.

Bwari, northern Nigeria, same time

The two doctors were making their way down another unpaved road and talked about everything but the horror they had seen in all of the last houses they had visited.
"I do not get it, not at all. Why are the children the last to contact Ebola-they should be among the first. And why do so many adults get it at the same time when they do not eat or drink the same things. Actually they are avoiding each other as much as possible now and they still get infected."
Dr. Musa swatted a mosquito that had settled on his right cheek, the big drop of blood that was left indicated he had been a bit too late.

"I do not get it either. Can be a couple of things-the new virus has a longer latency time, it is more infectious when airborne or it found a new vector."
"Oh joy-well one thing is for sure-it is far more deadly than before. We never had such lethality before, so it might well be mutated in other ways as well."
"I hope not by too much. They flew in a lot of Zmapp yesterday and started the treatment on the first batch of patients."
"I dearly hope that works."
"Yup."

Kochinus felt great. He had expanded far in a short time, his decision to include the insect into his cycle had allowed him to spread with a speed that he usually just experienced in the densely populated human towns.
That his gift would spread so far and fast was clear proof that he could persevere in a world where magic worked so very differently. And he could already sense that he could do so much more. He had not been able to make it there yet, but he could sense that this world was travelled by some sort of flying conveyance that went seemingly everywhere.
If he could get on board of some of these he could become really powerful.

Yet at present he had a different problem. The humans had brought many of the recipients of his gift into one place and tried various things to get rid of his blessings. They replaced lost fluids, gave chemicals that lowered the fever and tried some substances that meant he was multiplying a bit slower. Usually that amounted to a longer fight of the blessed before the succumbed; of course he applauded such rituals.
Yet in the last days there were a couple of blessed who managed to stay his hand somehow. It was as if they had developed antibodies against his physical self, but the humans did not produce them by themselves. They were put into the humans from outside somehow, in a mixture of three different antibodies. He had a long look at them and found that he could change the makeup of his protein sheath so they would no longer find the right places to dock.
While he was at it he added something else that would make the virus better at attaching itself to nerve endings and increasing the pain.

It was on the next day that a couple of his Mosquitos attached themselves to a worker that entered Akanu Airport in Enugu. The workers had not yet accepted his blessings fully and so were able to load lots of things into one of the Ethiopian Airlines plane that flew to Addis Ababa. Several of his flying messengers left their hiding places and stayed with the cargo, one got into the plane and found a dark place.
The Mosquitos in the cargo area did not survive the low temperatures and low pressure. The one in the cabin hid inside the hatrack above the emergency seats in economy. It survived well enough and Kochinus had great hopes for it when the plane settled into the approach to the Ethiopian capital. The water that had condensed in the hatracks flew forward when the plane lowered its nose and drowned the last insect before drenching two swearing passengers.

Ohrdruff, Festtag 16. Nachgeheim
Ulrika Magdova, resident Vampire of the "Advanced Weapons Testing Group" had not known how unlife would be with the totally mashed up unit she was now part off. But she was sure that she never thought one moment that she would sing songs about places she could never visit full force.
The Germans had brought their own soldiers songs to the table. Erika, the Panzerlied, Das Leben ist ein Würfelspiel (Life is a game of dice), Friedericus Rex, Argonnerwald (Argonne Forest) and many more. With the evening getting longer, the mixture of songs from Germany, the Empire, the Dwarfs and some Tilean ones became wilder and ambivalent.
The song Ulrika and the others now were singing was a German one, "Ohne Hemd und ohne Höschen" (Without shirt and knickers). The song was the slippery, but hilarious tale of a navy sailor´s holiday on the "Pacific Islands", whatever that places were.
The song played with the culture shock the 19th century sailors had when they sailed the Pacific and many of the natives were nearly or fully naked and nobody there thought much about it.

The soldier on holiday in the song saw a beautiful native girl and went to her to chat. When he talked to her about going somewhere together, she answered: "Oh no, thanks! I am married, quite long married and have everything to be satisfied. I don´t have to say or ask something and what you can do (sailor), my husband is able to do as well."

Ich ging einmal spazieren,
um mich zu amüsieren,
da sah ich in der Ferne,
ein Mägdlein stehn.
Ich fragte sie bescheiden:
"Fräulein darf ich sie begleiten?".
Da sagt die Kleine:
"Ach bitte, nein!".

"Ich bin verheirat,
bin lange schon verheirat,
und habe alles,
was man so braucht.
Ich brauche nichts zu sagen,
und brauche nicht zu fragen,
und was sie können,
kann mein Mann auch."

In Honolulu,
im Lande der Azoren,
und auf Samoa
ist das so Brauch.
Da gehn die kleinen Mädchen,
zum Tanzen in das Städtchen,
ohne Hemd und ohne Höschen,
nur mit einem Feigenblatt.

Once I went on a walk, to find
something fun to do.
Then I saw a (beautiful) girl from
far away.
I asked her modestly:
"Miss, can I walk with you?"
Then the Cutie said:
"Oh no, please!

Refrain:
I am married, married for a
long time and have
everthing to be satisfied.
I don´t have to say something,
I don´t have to ask something,
and what you can do, my husband
is able to do as well."

In Honolulu,
in the Land of the Azores
and on Samoa it is this
tradition.
There the sweet girls go
to dance in small cities,
without shirt and knickers,
with only (wearing)a figleaf."

It soon became apparent that the only common part of the song were the first stanza and the refrain. There seemed to be a multitude of further stanzas from the different arms of the armed forces, even other walks of life. some even more slippery, other even more funny.
It was after the 12th stanza, when a Private came to Ulrika and saluted.
She saluted back and listened to him.

"Miss Magdova, some person from Kislev needs to see you. A Pavel Upenskoy. He said you would know him..."

"Yes, Private, I know him. He is from the Kislevite embassy staff. Please, lead the way."

When Ulrika entered the visitors room of the barracks, she directly felt the weight Pavel seemed to carry with him. Something was not as it should be, that was certain. And the way Upenskoy opened the chat made that doubly clear.
"Dear Ulrika, I need your help or the help of some aquaintances of yours. Kislev stands short before a putsch! And the Tzarina does not know!"

Here is a youtube video of the song:

180 Kilometers east of Zuwarah, 4. July 2016

James Andrea Corradi was a young soldier in an elite outfit and near the peak of his fitness. The slope in front of him was reasonably firm and not too steep. Still neither he nor Pierre de Nivelle walked up the slope, they waddled and when they neared the crest they were wheezing from exhaustion.
This was partly due to temperatures that even around 10:00 AM were exceeding 40 degree, but even more due to the more than 30 kilogram of equipment they were hauling up. Body armor, bulky communication gear, lots of water, a rifle and ammo added up and made the climb a chore.
And the view from the top did not exactly make up for it. Moving to the crest at a crawl so not to highlight themselves against the sun behind them they broke out their binoculars. Pierre watched their surroundings as any surprise in this part of the Warhammer World was bound to be bad news while Corradi looked for the things that the Airedales had spotted.

At first there was not much to see. The plain in front of him was barren of all life and strewn with boulders of all sizes. The plain ended in another ridge several kilometers away and was the same as probably all real estate around. Presently the noncom wondered for what the Legion sent him to this forsaken spot as there was no movement but for a couple off carrion birds in the distance.
It took for a couple of seconds till his brain recomputed what it saw. Triggering the laser range finder in his scope he measured the distance to the birds-that bleeding far away-and gained a new appreciation of their sizes. He was pretty sure that they were about the same size than the "Storch" that usually did the aerial recon.

It did not take too long before a loose line of horsemen crested the hills on the other side. Pierre heard the indrawn breath from his sergeant and when he chanced a look at the rider he understood. Both knew about the undead, had been briefed about skeletons riding on their bony mounts-but this time was the first time they saw them themselves.
The horsemen were at the foot of the hills and were making their way through the plain when the cloud obscured the ridge and moved downwards at the speed a man might walk. It was dark, composed of things that looked like smoke, fog and insects yet moved in ways that had no relation to wind or biology. It hid whatever forces marched through the desert except for some polearms that seemed much too big.

This cloud had shown up in the aerial recon and was the reason why the Sergeant`s load was heavier than normal. A small tripod in front of him held an infrared scope that pierced the veil in front of him. The slope on the other end of the plain allowed to see shapes of much-too-cool spear carriers, what had to be archers, many chariots and shapes that were much too big for human remains. Their numbers were hard to count in a hurry, but one thing was sure-they were quite big and every second more appeared.

Pressing the stud that triggered his microphone he contacted command.
"Bir Hakeim from Chevalier one-we have the objective in sight. There is a screen of undead cavalry while the main body is hidden by a cloud of something, probably magical. Infrared shows a great lot of movement, likely undead troops and constructs. Speed is roughly 6 kph, direction is 265 degree."
"Chevalier one from Bir Hakeim, acknowledged. Keep up observation for unless otherwise ordered or unsafe. Then move to hill 622."
Corradi watched the cloud cover most of the ground in front of him before making his way back to the Serval truck. His best estimate for the army that came his way was somewhere in the six digits.

Katsina, north Nigeria, 4. July 2016

"Christine, Christine come in, it is getting dark."
Christine Goodfellow stood outside of her family`s house and looked at the setting sun-it was beautiful. The sky had the red color that promised humid weather tomorrow, but now it was beautiful to look at and she enjoyed the lower temperatures of the evening.
"Christine, it is not safe out there."
Her mother was right of course, there were so many armed men in this country and to a young woman it did not really matter on which side they were on. She turned towards the house and started to walk towards the door.
And then she stopped. The door just led into darkness and she could not see her mother or the rest of the family-and the voices were off.
She wanted to call out to her mother and found she could not, her throat was so dry and raw for some reason that she could not remember. She flailed about helplessly her arm struck something hard. She gripped that and pulled whatever that was to her lips and started drinking.
Once she had started that she could not stop and drank whatever had appeared in her hand till there was no more.

Aabdiah dropped the empty bottle on her chest upon waking up, a few drops she had not been able to drink cut runnels through the grime on her face. She swore mentally-her throat was much too dry for anything else. She had used water only to wet her mouth the last times as vomiting was too painful. Now she would have to go through it again. She tried to turn on a side to be ready when the inevitable happened and found she lacked the strength even for that.
She turned her head instead and waited ..and waited some more. Miraculously there were no cramps, no sharp pain that preceded the voiding. Instead there was a terrible thirst that wanted more. Just that she could not get at the water that was a meter or two away. It was simply too hard to stand up and walk the two meters she could even crawl there. The fever and the lack of food had weakened her to the point where she could not move even that far.
Aabdiah would die of thirst within the sight of several bottles of tepid water.

She had not believed she still had it in her to become angry at anything, she had learned to accept so much in the last two years. And now that things were about to end she still found she still could become angry. Angry at her fate, furious about the bearded men who thought they spoke for God, annoyed at her own weakness. It burned conscious thought from her brain, burned in her empty stomach and made her muscles burn from balling her fists.
She turned on her belly as if by her own violation, twisted like a snake and tore off a fingernail by clawing at the dirt that made up her huts floor. And centimeter by painful centimeter she moved towards the bottles that promised life where her only expectation had been death. She croaked in frustration when the stopper would not move and drank with primeval urgency when her thumbnail pierced the thin plastic.

Her world went black again from exhaustion and when she awoke again she shivered from cold. Still weak as a kitten, still shivering she managed to eat some of her meager provisions including the sugar that her former "husband" had liked so much in his tea. Working herself under her covers she went to sleep again and awoke only when the temperatures inside her hut became unbearably hot.
Steadying herself against a wall she got on her feet the first time in days and slowly walked to the curtain that covered the doorframe. Pulling it aside she got a view of hell.

The village she had been kept prisoner in for the last years had been full of life. Bearded men had occupied benches in the sun, veiled women had gone back and forth making the community work and the many children had gotten under anybody`s feet.
None of them moved now, and if they did then only as some carrion eater pulled on them. She did not see many of the men, but a lot of women lay together in the village square, often clutching the bodies of their loved ones. None had obvious injuries, but blood and mucus had dried on their faces. Their skins had probably shown wrinkles from dehydration before they started swelling under the relentless sun and a cloyingly sweet smell of rotting meat told her that the decay had already started.
She walked through the village as if sleepwalking, her eyes unfocussed and her head without thought or plan. Wherever she went death awaited her, death and its ugly aftermath. When she had completed her pilgrimage through the village and was back on the communal place in the middle she dropped on her haunches and cried.

Cried for the many children, for her friends from school and the other wives and the few old men that had not been part of the madness. She cried till her eyes burned and neither her tear ducts nor her mind had any more to give.
Then she went through the village again, picking up useful things here and there. The last thing she took was the rifle from Azis`s fingers who clearly did not need it any more. She had watched the Boko Haram fighters train with them often enough-how hard could it be?
She brought her stuff outside of the village of dead and put her provisions down. Pulling the rifle against her shoulder she aimed at an old tree at three meters and pulled the trigger while squeezing her eyes shut. Nothing but a click.

She looked at the rifle again and remembered to have seen the men pull on a lever, which she did as well. She repeated the process just to get the same result.
Searching the sparse controls on the weapon again she found a small lever with three different detents. Pushing it downwards she tried again. She got her finger off the trigger when the fourth shot went into the sky and she nearly tumbled to the ground. Still the tree in front of her had two holes in it and she was satisfied.
Packing her meager belongings on a bicycle with no chain that allowed her to push supplies of a weight she could not carry she started on her way south.
Aabdiah died on that day-Christine Goodfellow was on her way home.

Bwari, Nigeria, same time

The two doctors left another apartment, far too jaded by now to be too depressed by the dying around them.
"Why the children damn it?"
"I have no idea Jacques, not the slightest. They should be the first to get it, but their parents were clearly farther along. And they swear they did not leave their house the last week. Given the tin cans in their trash I even believe them. So where did they get infected?
"Maybe it is airborne for longer distances than usual?"
"Maybe-yes. But even then the children should be in the same stage than their parents-at least."
"Yes, there is that. Fuck it is hot today."
"You think so Eduard? It is actually cooler than yesterday."
"Uh-doen`t feel that way for sure. And the masks certainly doesn`t help either."
"Yeah, don`t you tell me about it. Eduard-what is up?"
"A bit dizzy for the moment-sorry. Cough cough."
"Fuck Eduard, don`t do it. Not you too."
The thought came as unbidden and unwanted as it was clear into Dr. Verteuille`s head. The thought of the mosquito nets that covered the children`s beds in the apartment-to-be-grave they had just visited as well as his eternal insect repellant.

The Glacier, Dybakov Pass, Kislev Brunntag 18. Nachgeheim

The Caves and tunnels under the mountains were as cold as they were beautiful. Covered with ice from the inside the frozen water had formed wondrous things during the millennia. Where a normal cave might have stalactites it had spires and arches of the sheerest ice that would reflect and bend any light that came its way to great effect. The floor was a flat plain of the sheer ice with a sprinkling of hoarfrost, beautiful to look at and treacherous to walk on.
None of this was natural, so far into the mountain the temperatures should have been above zero and no light should reflect. The being that had made this place into a gate that allowed mortals to make supplications liked it that way.

A woman walked down the path she had taken many times to reconfirm her allegiance. She was tall, muscular and beautiful-the beauty of a well-made blade. Her view would have enticed many a heart while her total immunity from the cold would have frightened even more. Holding her head high she did not see the beauty of the cave that normally spoke to her soul as it always did, no matter how often she came. She did not even think about her nakedness, she accepted that her patron demanded it as a show of faith and a way to dispense her displeasure if she were to find wanting. Were she to withhold her favor the woman would find herself defenseless deeply in a freezing hell that would claim her soon. Some statue-like figures she passed whenever she came here bore mute testimony that this was not an empty threat.

Yet presently her head was not in this place, she had too much to think about. What her goddess had told her had mirrored too much what she had suspected for the last years, but the consequences were grave.
The woman finally reached the small altar where she had made the sacrifice that allowed her entrance and that held the clothes that she had left there. She needed time to don them, not just as she was in deep thought, but also as they were many and elaborate. Normally she would be attended when she clothed herself, but here this was not advisable.
Finally she closed the fibulae that kept her cloak and placed the fur-lined ring on her head. A look into an ice pane confirmed that she again looked like her people expected her.

Tzarina Katherina walked the long tunnel that led into the light while still mulling how best to convert the advice and demands by her goodness best. Prawda had made her will known as clear as the ice that surrounded her-it was just that her people would have a hard time accepting them.
The Kislevian ruler knew immediately that something was wrong when she exited the tunnel. Her hand was already on her sword pommel when she saw her attendants on her knees, all making the right signs of supplication. The only thing that was not the same than usual was the huge helicopter that rested on the snow a hundred meter away.
And there were a few more beings attendant than there were before.

"You may rise-and explain yourself."
Besides her courtiers and attendants a woman rose to her full height, barely below the Tzarina. She wore a strange mixture of gear and gave off an aura that marked her as not human.
"Ulrika Mandragowa at your service Tzarina. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is few choice. The Ropsmen Boyars try to use your absence to stage a coup in Kislev-you are needed in the city right now. The German government offers a ride to you."
Oh my, how the Tzarina hated it when Pravda was right.

Hill 622, Araby, Markttag 19. Nachgeheim

The night is cold in the desert, beautiful and deadly. An unbroken field of unblinking stars spanned the sky, barely enlightening a spare landscape that held just broken rocks and nothing that would support higher lifeforms.
In the middle of it all a rocky spire reached for the heavens, weather-beaten and broken from rapidly changing temperatures. From the sea level its peak stood at 622 feet which gave it its name by long-standing military tradition. One of the crags provided cover for a squad of soldiers and their charges, a number of specialists.
James Corradi lay on the cold uneven ground for hours now, taking his turns to watch the empty plain before him through his Night Vision Device and several parts of his body hurt by now, which went nicely with being cold and a bit hungry. He did not realize any of these discomforts presently and had missed giving the NVD to his second.
The eyepiece was full of movement that the naked eye would not discern yet. Who- or whatever had caused the bulk of the army being veiled in a cloud during the day had decided this was not necessary during the night. The small screen in front of the legionary displayed an undead army. Animated skeletons that bore spears and shields, moving bones that wielded bows, undead drivers on chariots, moving statues that sported gigantic swords, halberds or bows, constructs that should be rotting remains of death and that walked and wanted to dispense the same.

They covered much of the far side of the plain and moved slowly, silently and as inexorably as death and taxes. The noncom currently commanded the grand firepower of a machine gun, 6 assault rifles, a couple of grenade launchers, a few specials and two wireless sets. He felt adequately equipped.
He watched the small group of observers he had brought here type something into their computer, check it for the umpteenth time and knew the show was about to start.
There was a barely perceptible flicker on the horizon far to the back of the legionaries followed by a freight train rumble half a minute later. Corradi closed his eyes just in time to avoid being blinded by the artillery`s Impacts. 50-meter sized circles of destruction walked through the enemy`s ranks, leaving only splinters and ruin in their way.
It was eerie-the undead that were under hit dropped or splintered as was their want, yet those close to them did not miss a step, did not seek cover, did not try to accelerate-nothing. The far-off guns pumped out several tons of steel and explosives per minute and the destruction mounted. Corradi finally saw something worth reporting by himself.

"Chevalier 2 for Barbara 1"
"Barbara 1 hears."
"I see several fliers go off in your general direction."
"Acknowledged and thanks."
The noncom doubted that any of the undead fliers would make it past the air defenses that he knew were close to the Legion`s guns.
When he resumed observing again a part of the enemy just stopped moving and crumbled to the ground. James could just speculate that the arty had managed to kill enough generals and mages to make that happen, but apart from that lucky hits the artillery`s fury was like dropping stones into the lake. The stones would make a lot of waves, but the lake was still there when they abated. And the undead did not stop-dropping fragments and motionless constructs but moving on and the next ridgeline revealed more of them to replace those already lost.
Corradi began to calculate when would be the time to get into another position as he was sure that the arty would not get them all.
That was when he realized that the other observer was getting busy and signaled his men to stay low.

Even the explosions that hammered the ground in front of the legionaries could not mask the tearing sound that seemed to rip the sky asunder. At one moment there was nothing, the next long rows of hellish flames raced over the enemy. Where before stoic rows had marched despite the shelling now burning remains dropped to the ground. The conflagration briefly illuminated the planes that left the battlefield, James was pretty sure to have seen a couple of Phantoms and Tornados but could not be sure.
The flames took quite a while before dying down and when they did the revealed the next row of undead that still advanced. But now it was obvious that even this multitude had been reduced and that the artillery could finish the job. Still, they would get too close for comfort that was for sure, so Corradi dialed in command and pushed the to-talk-button.

"Chevalier 2 for Bir Hakheim"
"Bir Hakheim hears you."
"Enemy has taken serious losses but continues to advance. Best estimate puts them at Hill 633 in 30 minutes or less. Request to relocate to Hill 593."
"Chevalier 2, you are free to relocate at your convenience. Chevalier 1, you are FO until further notice."
"Chevalier 1 acknowledges FO and out"
"Chevalier 2 acknowledged relocate and out"
"Pierre, Hern-check if the way down is free. Lieutenant Ritter, Meister-we will relocate to the secondary position in five, please pack up."
The noncom watched while two of his men went for the goat path that led to their transports before checking on the rest of his unit and the enemy again.
He thought he saw something slightly less dark than the ground below move close to the rocky spire and was about to grab for his NVD when the wireless went off in his ear.

"Sergeant-Hern here. We are under attack, repeat attack. Need help now."
"Cagata." Pushing the to-talk button "Pierre, you take over here. Gottlieb, Jern, on me."
He wanted to run, the need to help his men and to see what was up was great, yet he could not. The path was treacherous and an accident would not do. He still moved faster than sanity allowed, especially after hearing the shooting and seeing the telltale yellow flickering of a fire. When he rounded the last corner he saw his men in a Serval and a Unimog truck shooting at a host of skeletons that marched in their direction while arrows were flying all about.
Corradi was about to wonder how the undead could approach so close when the sands close to the hill`s feet started to bulge and birth a monster. Shaped like a scorpion it was just a huge skeleton that approached the two vehicles. Tracers from several weapons converged at the undead construct without doing visible damage. Instead the tail of the beast spit out something that hit the Serval and its driver who immediately stopped shooting and started to writhe inside the off-road car.
Corradi lifted his rifle to the shoulder, flipped a second sight up and pulled a trigger in front of the magazine when he had lined up. The grenade was visible in its slow path but terminated on the shoulder of a front leg. The detonation ripped the leg off and dropped the Tomb Scorpion`s side into the sands. Two more grenades shattered the skull and the construct crumbled.

"Jern, you look after Diego. Gottlieb, check the Serval, I will…
By now the first dawn provided more light to the battle. Enough of it to reveal even more mounds that popped up in the sands around Hill 622. Bigger mounds that disgorged more scorpions, smaller ones revealing undead knights and swarms of insects that that rode like malignant clouds.
"Jern, Gottlieb-pull Diego in. Sergio-get out of that truck and bring the machine gun if you can. Everybody-we get back to the OP-move it people."
The noncom tried his best to combine walking backwards and firing at the approaching enemy and looking after his men. The desert had birthed more undead by the time all of them were back on the path and James had shot several skeletons. Another grenade had dispersed a group of Tomb Knights, but two of the swarms were getting far too close for comfort. Corradi was about to ask for help when a deep voice boomed behind him.
"Down Sarge"
The stream of burning fuel missed him but engulfed the cloud of empty insect husks that wanted to consume the legionary. There was a flashburn and a screeching that was probably only heard in the mind. Another cloud went up in smoke too before the rest went away.
"Good job Björn-save the rest for later."
He needed to repeat that before the hulking Norscan turned the pilot flame of his weapon down. The gleam in his eyes would have scarred the undead off if they could see him, here was a man in love with his job.
"Sergio, we two get Diego up. Jern-slow them down with Björn."

Both men had sweated already when they had climbed the hill the first time-now they carried a soldier between them and did not even feel the strain. Whatever god had made adrenaline had done a great job of it.
The higher the two climbed the more they saw the undead which came from all sandy parts around them. There were far fewer than in the huge blocks that still tried to traverse the plain but far too many for the legionaries to fend off. Not that James thought of doing so-at least not by their own.
"Lieutenant Meister-how about…"
"Already done-FPF starts in 30 seconds. Get your men here stat."
The two soldiers the noncom had deployed as a roadblock were barely with the squad when all hell broke loose. In a ring all around the hill countless explosions tore into soil and enemy, dropping knights as well as their lesser brethren with ease. The few that escaped the artillery`s attention could be dispatched by the legionaries. Some arrows got remarkably close to injure them despite cover and distance, yet the spidersilk armor was proof against them.

Yet not everything dropped when the iron flail of the guns beat the desert. The constructs, both the moving statues that were the Ushtabi as well as a few Tomb Scorpions were neither bothered by fragments nor overpressure and closed with Corradi`s squad relentlessly. James managed to drop another Scorpion with a grenade but the huge statues were immune to them. Their swords and halberds looked really dangerous by now and the sergeant thought about where to retreat and whom to call for help when the first one was hit by something from the far side and was ripped into pieces.
In quick succession several other constructs were destroyed and the rest started to drift for the far side of the Hill or buried itself. Several dust clouds in the distance indicated where the help was coming from and soon enough the roar of diesel engines could be heard above the din of the battle. Six tanks and a few IFV`s arranged themselves at both sides of Hill 622`s flanks and shot everything that had been missed by the artillery.
A second airstrike came in minutes after the armored reinforcements showed up and this time it was obvious that it were Phantoms, probably flying out of Saratosa who dropped liquid death into the survivors. An actinic flash could be seen briefly when the Napalm burned another stretch of desert and when the flames were down the undead army crumbled into the dust it had risen from.

Corradi moved like an old man when he climbed down to link up with the tankers. The god who had made the adrenaline had probably designed the letdown to make it less addictive but by now the noncom wished for a different way.
Checking that the tank in front of him was not about to drive he climbed it front its sloped front glacis. The little he could see of the tank commanders face was ruddy and sported a spectacular red mustache.
"Bloody good show old boy, bloody good. Nice of you to leave us something to bag."
"Sergeant James Corradi-thanks for the assist."
"Major John Tempelton, that`s fine. Allow me to say you look like hell-fancy a brew?"
The flag on the aerial behind the tanker displayed a red rat on a black background and the tank it was planted on one of the very few of its kind on this world.
The Desert Rats, also known as the 7th armor Brigade had returned to their native environment.