Chapter 17

Cherbourg, Francovia

June 4th, 1995

Sous-Lieutenant Aguillard put down his book and sighed, looking out of his window. He had volunteered to stay behind, jumping at the chance to command his own men for a change, but was now regretting the decision. Only four men in his squad had stayed behind, and they were now sitting at a table a little ways from him playing a game of cards. Adding insult to injury, standing regulations on contact between officers and enlisted men prevented him from joining in. Standing up, Aguillard stretched, joints cracking as he did so.

Might as well check the other stations, the Lieutenant thought to himself. Leaving the room, he headed down the hallway to radio ops. Although communications were a different regiment and therefore under a different chain of command, only one man had stayed behind, and Aguillard had been left in charge of him as well.

Peeking his head into the room, the Lieutenant caught sight of the operator snoozing in his chair, oblivious to the incoming chatter. The inexperienced officer hesitated in waking the man up - he knew that the unit had been undergoing some pretty rigorous training pending deployment to the border and that he probably hadn't gotten much sleep. Then again, what if some important transmission came in, and the man wasn't awake to hear it?

"Caporel," he said in a low voice. The man snorted in his sleep. "Caporel! Corporal! Wake up!"

The young radioman jolted awake. Realizing where he was, he sprang from his chair to the position of attention. "Sous-Lieutenant!" he shouted, "I'm sorry for falling asleep, sir!"

The officer nodded. "At ease," he said, "I don't see any reason to report this. Just don't let it happen again."

The man relaxed back into his chair. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he said. The officer turned to leave. Unbeknownst to both men, an urgent all-stations message had been missed by almost half an hour.

Aguillard headed back toward the enlisted common room. Although officers had their own designated area, it was decidedly lonely in there, and the Lieutenant had decided to join the enlisted men instead. Before he could reach his destination, however, a loud alarm began to blare from the mounted loudspeakers.

An attack alarm? Now? The Lieutenant started to panic as his four men rushed out of the common room. "Lieutenant!" One of them shouted, "What's the alarm?"

The officer shook his head - better safe than sorry. "Get to the armory! Full armament." His men nodded and rushed off.

Aguillard drew his personal MAC Mle 1950 pistol from his hip holster, holding it in front of him protectively. There was no time to get a more powerful weapon - his first priority was to get to the sentry towers and locate the source of the alarm.

Exiting the headquarters building, Aguillard cringed as the frigid winter air slammed into him full force. Hurrying down the path, he scanned the perimeter for the source of the alarm.

Coming up to the moderately tall tower facing the land, the Lieutenant opened the door and ran full force up the stairs. Coming to the top, he paused and looked around confusedly. Where was everybody? Looking out over the base, he caught sight of the shipyard and gasped. The sky was filled with falling pods and strange dropships. Swarms of soldiers had descended on the rows of ships, as the crew scrambled around like ants, their firearms firing red beams. Movement caught his eye, and the officer looked down to see his squad cornered by about a dozen of these soldiers. Apparently, they hadn't made it to the armory and were consequently unarmed.

The Lieutenant had never felt so useless in his life. He had to do something, but what could he do? He glanced around for a weapon, and his eyes landed on the assault rifle lying against the wall.

Rushing over to it, he picked up the FAMAS rifle and aimed carefully down the iron sights. Catching sight of a soldier, he took a deep breath. Calming his heart rate, his arm steadied and he focused himself on that one soldier.

The world slowed down as he pulled the trigger.

The rifle slammed back into his shoulder as a dash of red appeared across the soldier's back. Blood spurted from the wound, and by the time the soldier was on the ground, Aguillard was already searching for another target. All of a sudden, he caught sight of one of the soldiers pointing a finger toward his location. Half the group took off towards the stairs.

Crap

Aguillard quickly began to fire his assault rifle on the ground, nailing first, an ornate woman in a black uniform and outrageously large peaked cap and two more of the soldiers. The squad burst through the door, guns raised. They paused momentarily when they caught sight of Aguillard, but it didn't take them long to open fire. The Lieutenant dove for cover behind the sentry post, lasers burning through every thing around him.

A soundless shockwave caused Aguillard to instantly collapse to the ground, his ears pounding heavily. As he tried to get up, his weapon was ripped from his grasp and he was violently turned onto his back. A hand slammed into his left arm, and he screamed as a painful CRACK resonated from the wound. The face of a human... like him, only livid with rage shoved itself into Aguillard's field of vision.

Pvt Galina Kylia

23rd Syrasha Sterncowls

The surface of the planet "Nova Arcadia"

"Did that hurt, heretic?!" The girl shouted, incomprehensible anger glowing from her eyes. "No? Well, how about this?" She gripped the broken arm and twisted it one hundred and eighty degrees. The man screamed even more. "You don't like that so much, do you?!"

"Galina!" An officer said sternly. "Release that guy, now!"

"He killed my sister! He doesn't deserve-"

"I said NOW! That is an ORDER, trooper. Drop the knife and step away."

"But, sir-"

"DO IT!"

Galina's shoulders slumped."Yes, sir." she said. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and defeat.

"Now," the officer said, "get over there and guard the prisoners. The rest of you, secure this area and make sure that this... scum... doesn't escape. We need them for questioning."

Galina did as she was told, her posture slouched and dejected.

"Sir?" Another trooper asked. "What do we do about the other 4 we captured? There are only three more, and we're not sure if the fourth will survive."

"If the fourth one survives, bring him along too. If not, make sure the others don't find out about his demise. We can't afford any unnecessary conflicts, especially now. I'll be taking care of the interrogations personally, and I'm not going to allow any mistakes."

Aguillard started to chuckle slowly. Galina, however, was infuriated by the laughter. "You think that's funny?!" She screamed, throwing herself at the prisoner before him. Two soldiers grabbed her and pulled her back. "Restrain her," the leader ordered, "and get that heretic drugged." A large guard approached the Francovian officer, and the last thing he felt was the needle entering his neck.

June 4, 1995

"The Skandborg Conference"

Skandborg, Sjøland

"These extraterrestrial invaders made a single, gigantic thrust into Euronia by simultaneously conducting landings into Francovia along our Northwest coast - and we couldn't stop them until they hit various key cities. Our forces were simply overwhelmed by the Equestrian attack," Prime Minister Alain Juppè said, "While at the same time so were the Benelux, Iberia, Ulraznavia, all 7 continents." For a moment, there was silence as the various leaders, members of the Organization of Free Nations, thought.

The Edenite Prime Minister spoke up. "Well, we'll help out wherever we can - but the invasion has closed the gap between Eirendale and Eden. We need to focus on securing our coast." Juppe nodded.

"Thank you. In the meantime, we will begin deploying our forces across Euronia and prepare our defense," he said. "I'm afraid that, in order to maintain order and prevent the situation from getting out of control, the Confederation of Concordia has temporarily closed its borders."

"Understandable," the Beneluxian representative said. "We should also discuss how best to coordinate our efforts against the invaders. After all, they've already shown that they're more than willing to strike wherever they choose, whenever they want."

"Agreed," the Ulraznavian representative said. "But we have to consider the fact that these invaders seem to be targeting cities. We can't let them take advantage of us and hit our civilian centers while we're trying to protect the ones they've already taken."

"I think," the Edenite Prime Minister interjected, "we should try and push the invaders back out of Francovia and Iberia, and then focus on defending the other continents.

"If only that was that easy...their technology is more or less similar to ours, albeit more preference on Gothic style and sheer bullets an red beams...and haven't you noticed the massive fleet in orbit?" The Chancellor of Ulraznavia remarked, "This will not be a war we can win easily."

"It is a war we can still win," the Prime Minister of Eden said, "but it won't be easy. We'll have to take the fight to them, and make them regret coming to our world. In the meantime, I'm declaring martial law across the nation, and will be mobilizing the entire army to fight these invaders.

The leaders around the table nodded gravely as they listened to the Prime Minister's declaration. Though the circumstances were dire, there was resolve in the room to stand united against this extraterrestrial threat.

"You have Eden's full support in this effort," the Beneluxian prime minister said. "Our nations must fight as one if we are to prevail."

"As will Concordia, once we have secured our borders and key infrastructure," their representative added. "We can shift forces to reinforce wherever the invaders strike next."

The Ulraznavian chancellor sighed. "Much of our army is still intact, though morale has taken a blow. We shall rebuild and return to the field."

General Robinson spoke up. "If we pool our remaining resources - air power, armor, special forces - we can work together to slow and hopefully reverse their advance. No one nation here can win solo."

The Edenite prime minister stood. "Then it's decided. We face a grave threat, but thousands of years of shared history bind us. Let our alliance weather this storm as it has so many before!"

Murmurs of assent went around. Hands were shaken, plans begun. There was hope still, if they stood united.

"I'll alert my staff and ministry," the chancellor said rising. "Ulraznavia's industrial heartland can supply vehicles and materiel for a counterattack."

With their pact sealed, the leaders filed out to execute the first steps. The road would be long, but standing together, the nations of the OFN woulddrive back the invaders from their world. Their people expected no less of them.

Somewhere in the Sea Of Satsuma.

Zhalkova tread water warily as the strange light bobbed in the distance. She couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't a ship or lighthouse. As she cautiously approached, the details resolved into a humanoid figure, clad in an odd uniform and inflatable vest. Definitely not one of theirs.

Her suspicions were confirmed when a swell carried the stranger directly into her. They collided and Zhalkova found herself staring into a mirrored visor, seeing her own face reflected back. This was one of the invaders!

Before she could react, the enemy smashed their helmet into hers. Zhalkova's visor cracked but she maintained her composure. Grabbing the sides of their helmet, she wrenched with all her strength. The puffy flight suits made trading blows awkward, but she could eliminate their protection.

They grappled fiercely, her opponent lashing out wildly as Zhalkova clung doggedly to the helmet. Her seeking fingers found a latch and she triggered it. With a hiss of depressurization, the helmet popped free into the sea.

The face revealed was human and female, framed by dark hair. She shouted furiously in an unintelligible tongue before trying to strike back. Zhalkova dodged the blow and smashed a fist into her now-exposed face.

The invader reeled, spitting blood. Zhalkova pressed the attack, pummeling her dazed enemy relentlessly.

"That's for Vronska!" she screeched at the other girl, "Sucha!"

Their brawl was interrupted as the water began to bubble. Zhalkova and her foe froze as the ocean roiled beneath them. A great force surged upwards, lifting them atop a dark surfaced mass. They sprawled awkwardly across the wet steel hull, disoriented. Behind them a hatch screeched open and a blinding searchlight illuminated the sub's deck.

"This is the Navy!" a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. "Hands up!"

Zhalkova complied, recognizing the accent of her countrymen. Her opponent stubbornly refused to surrender, glaring defiantly. Footsteps approached and several armed sailors appeared, weapons leveled.

"Comrade-Lieutenant Zhalkova, I presume?" one asked.

"Da," she confirmed, slowly rising with hands raised.

"Men, seize the other one!" Two sailors rushed past, seizing and cuffing the resisting invader.

The speaker stepped forward, identifying himself as Captain Tupolev of the submarine K-563. "Our orders were to recover you both. It seems we've succeeded."

He glanced at the captive being led away. "You must be tired and cold. Please, follow me below decks."

"Thank you, Captain," Zhalkova replied gratefully. But before she could depart, the female officer pulled her aside insistently.

"Comrade, your valor in engaging the enemy is most commendable. However, I must debrief you at once. We have much to discuss." She eyed the prisoner meaningfully.

Zhalkova hesitated. "Respectfully Comrade, I am exhausted and must see to my wounds first."

The officer shook her head. "I apologize, but the Motherland has great need of your knowledge. This cannot wait."

Sighing inwardly, Zhalkova acquiesced. "Very well. I am ready."

The officer smiled. "Excellent. Come, we have a room prepared." Zhalkova cast a longing glance at the hatch leading belowdecks but dutifully followed.

Edge of Forward Battle Area.

Ulraznavia.

The view outside would have killed any normal man. The sheer height was enough to cause a heart attack. Those were the thoughts of Colonel Douglas "Duke" Ellington flew his F-19A "Ghostrider" through the showers of clouds with the skill of an expert. Even now on this dark night he flew 4000 ft, he could see the dark outlines of trees that seemed to rise up and try to snatch his fighter. Only a madmen would fly so low in a normal aircraft, Ellington smirked under his oxygen mask. The F-19 was one of Concordia's 2nd stealth fighters, which was slowly replaced by the F-22, which were currently in too small numbers.

"Think the invaders can see us?" Major Don Eisley, his backseater asked from is RIO station.

Colonel Ellington banked hard as his F-19A ghosted just above the treetops, using the darkness and rugged terrain to mask their approach. His backseater, Major Eisley, was right to be concerned about detection. At barely four thousand feet, they were dangerously exposed to enemy sensors and fire. But the element of surprise was critical.

"With luck, those alien bastards won't have a clue until it's too late," Ellington replied, easing the jet lower into a valley. The Ghostrider's stealth profile should hide them for now.

Up ahead, flashes of light marked fierce combat as the invaders pressed deeper into Ulraznavia. Ellington gritted his teeth. Concordia would not stand idly by while their allies burned.

"Weapons check," he ordered. Eisley ran through the pre-attack checklist, arming their radar-homing missiles and 20mm cannon pods. Everything showed green and ready.

Ellington grinned wolfishly as the valley opened up, exposing a large enemy mechanized column snaking along the road. "Time to say hello, Major. Let's make these alien freaks regret ever hearing of Earth!"

He shoved the throttle forward. The F-19 leaped ahead like a missile, terrain blurring past mere feet below. They bore down on the column, the enemy still oblivious to the descending death.

"Fox Two!" Ellington snapped, depressing the launch button. An AIM-120 streaked away, followed rapidly by two more. Up and down the column, explosions blossomed as armor and transports were ripped apart.

"Come around for gun pass!" Ellington barked, hauling the Ghostrider into a punishing nine-G turn. Eisley opened up with the 20mm as they screamed over the chaotic column, shredding infantry and light vehicles.

They climbed up and arrowed back in, mercilessly raking the invaders with cannons until empty. Ellington banked away, tabs on the devastation below. Surprise achieved. The enemy's flank was in shambles.

"Regroup for the second pass," he ordered coolly. The night was young, and Concordian justice had only just begun. There was savage work still to be done this night in the name of liberty.

Imperial Ground Mobile Auger Station

Lt Krix stared his radar panel as explosions rained outside, how had the primitive aircraft snuck through the radar screen? "Get Down!" a Sgt bellowed.

"What in the name of Holy Terra is going on!" his superior, Major Martin was rushing around the cramped area. Krix ducked reflexively as another explosion rocked the mobile augur station. The enemy aircraft had somehow slipped through their auspex net and were now sowing utter chaos outside.

"Throne damn these savages!" roared Major Martin, trying to restore order amidst the panic. "How did they evade our blessed augur arrays?!"

Krix risked a glance at his console - the threat runes were a solid wall of red. "I don't know sir! Stealth sorcery of some kind, they're all over us!"

The major grabbed a voxcaster, bellowing orders to their Leman Russ tanks outside to return fire. Krix kept monitoring his screen helplessly as more attack runes blinked into existence. Whatever dark arts the enemy wielded, their aircraft were tearing the column apart.

A deafening blast terminated the major's shouts. Krix was hurled to the floor as the augur station's roof was peeled open by a direct hit. Groggily he looked up to see flames and acrid smoke everywhere.

The major lay motionless nearby, a jagged shard of metal protruding from his chest. Krix crawled over desperately but it was no use. Their commander was dead.

He staggered upright, swaying drunkenly. They had been doomed from the start, he realized bitterly. Outmaneuvered by an enemy they could not see nor comprehend. Krix uttered a final, whispered prayer to the Emperor for deliverance just as the world erupted into searing light and oblivion claimed him.

Perhaps the next life would offer kinder fortunes, though Krix doubted it. For now, he and his comrades would burn together under these primitive's overwhelming firestorm. Such was the fate of those who underestimated the foe.

Forward Headquarters

General Alexis Jaeger

2211st Cadian Shock Troop regiment.

"Explain to me very carefully what the hell happened." the man at the desk snapped at the officer, a Tempestus Scion, who flinched as spittle flew in her face.

The young Tempestus Scions officer stood rigidly at attention, struggling not to flinch as General Jaeger raged. The loss of an entire mechanized column to unseen enemy airpower had left the general incandescent with fury, demanding answers.

"Sir, it appears the enemy employs some form of cloaking sorcery that masked their aircraft from augur detection," she reported crisply, omitting the fact their own incompetence was likely also a factor. "They were able to ambush the column with complete surprise, destroying many vehicles before withdrawal."

Jaeger's face purpled dangerously. "Cloaking sorcery!? Why was I not informed of such arcane assets at their disposal? Heads will roll for this failure, mark me."

The officer wisely held her tongue, no excuse sufficient for such a catastrophic reversal.

Jaeger leaned forward, eyes blazing. "We underestimated these savages, to our grave cost. See to it our auspexes are re-tuned to pierce any stealth trickery they may still employ. I want fighter patrols doubled and relay sites tripled along the front. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"

She snapped a parade-ground perfect salute. "Yes sir, by your command!" Spinning on her heel, she swiftly departed, relief washing over her. She had escaped the general's wrath, for now. But much work remained to plug the holes this disaster had revealed in their defenses. The Imperium's vengeance would be delayed, not halted.

Battle Area.

While the Ghostriders led the first assault. The A-10s and F-111 Ardvarks of the 21st Ground Attack Squadron of the Concordian Air Force were striking key bridges that were being used by the invaders. The unknown tanks trundling down one bridge were literally flung into the air, one pilot seeing a man flung out of his vehicle, literally flapping

Vital bridges used by the invading forces to move men and materiel were today's objectives. Caught in the open, the primitive tanks and vehicles crossing them would be sitting ducks.

Lieutenant Daniels lined up on the first bridge, centering the HUD's pipper on the trundling enemy armor. "Magnum, bombs away!" he called, thumbing the release. The Wings leveled out as Mark 82 dumb bombs dropped from the weapons bay.

Seconds later, string of explosions ripped the bridge apart, flinging primitive tanks through the air like toys. One hapless crewman was even ejected from his vehicle, flailing wildly as he arced down into the river below.

"Scratch one bridge, good hits!" Daniels banked away, scanning for more targets. All around, the rest of the squadron was delivering similar punishing blows. Pillars of smoke rose where just minutes ago enemies had been crossing securely. Not anymore.

An urgent call came over the radio from his wingman Lt. Vargas. "Lead, I've got enemy air interceptors lifting off, looks like they're coming your way! Break right!"

Daniels yanked the A-10 hard right, popping flares as primitive cannons reached up for him. He jinked wildly, spoiling their aim but they stayed locked on.

"Can't shake 'em! Vargas, could use some help here!" Daniels pleaded, cranking the A-10 through gut wrenching turns.

"Hold on Lead, I got this bastard!" Vargas' Warthog roared over, peppering Daniel's pursuer with 30mm depleted uranium shells until it spiraled away trailing smoke.

Daniels breathed a sigh of relief. "Appreciate the assist Two. Let's finish up and RTB."

No rest for the weary, he thought grimly. It was going to be a long war if every strike brought this kind of furball. But Concordia's pilots were up for the task.

Imperial Forward Headquarters.

Jaeger watched with an impassive face, as the bridges transporting most of his armour and Russ Tanks were blown apart, along with most of the equipment. His aides watched him apprehensively as his eyes followed the trajectory of a hapless Russ crewman who had become 's stony countenance betrayed none of the roiling anger he felt as he observed the destruction unfolding below. One by one, vital bridges across the river were being systematically destroyed by marauding enemy aircraft, sending his armor and vehicles plunging into the swirling waters.

Outwardly, the general appeared calm, hands clasped behind his back. But internally, his fury threatened to erupt. How had he failed to anticipate this move? The primitive's aircraft now ruled the skies, wreaking havoc on his forces with impunity.

His aides watched him nervously, sensing his simmering rage. As another bridge erupted in flame and smoke, and yet another hapless Leman Russ crewman was flung skyward, flailing helplessly before disappearing into the river's turbulent flow. Jaeger's left eye twitched almost imperceptibly. The glowing runes and indicators on the strategic hololith before him told the tale - his armored spearhead was being crushed piecemeal under the enemy's relentless aerial onslaught.

For now, the general continued feigning stoic composure, but his staff knew an eruption was imminent. Once Jaeger's volcanic wrath was unleashed, heads would roll and blood would be spilled to atone for this catastrophic failure. The primitives would pay dearly for their impudence. For now, Jaeger waited and watched, imagining the creative punishments he would inflict upon those responsible for allowing this reversal. The enemy's swagger would be short-lived once the full fury of his vengeance rained down upon them.

Bridge Alva

The bridge shook violently as explosions erupted dangerously close. Inside his Leman Russ, Gunner Boron gripped the controls white-knuckled, expecting oblivion at any second. The enemy air attack had caught them completely unprepared.

"Emperor protect us!" Boron muttered, saying a quick prayer as more bombs fell. The bridge supports were being systematically destroyed all around them. They needed to get across, now!

He glanced over at his commander, Sergeant Drex. "Sarge, we ain't gonna make it! Gotta abandon tank while we can!"

Drex shook his head stubbornly. "No! We hold position, keep advancing! The Emperor-"

His next words were swallowed in a deafening blast as a direct hit on the bridge flung their Russ skyward like a toy. Weightlessness gripped Boron for a nauseating moment before impact smashed him against the interior bulkheads.

Ears ringing, he groggily checked the crew. Miraculously, they seemed alive, if battered. But they were laying on their side at an odd angle. Peering through cracked vision slits, Boron saw they had landed in the shallows, the bridge a smoking ruin behind them.

He keyed his mic. "Holy shit, we went airborne! Sarge, you alright? Can you hear me?"

A pained groan answered. "Ugh...I hear you, Boron. The Emperor apparently had other plans for us."

Boron uttered a relieved, shaky laugh. By some divine providence, they had survived. But with the bridge demolished, the advance was stalled. The enemy aircraft had won this round.

For now though, survival was enough. They would have their vengeance, in time. Boron leaned back in his seat, catching his breath. The Emperor truly did work in mysterious ways.

Sergeant First Class Terry Mackall, Concordian Army– M1 Abrams tank commander, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment

Stendenal

Ulraznavia

The night was cool and clear. There was no fog in sight. A perfect night for tank killing. In a camouflaged position, 1991 Faluja Gulf War veteran Snr Sgt Woody Mackall was pissed with his gunner.

"Billy stop being fucking jumpy"

Mackall growled in annoyance as his gunner flinched yet again at distant battle noise. The kid was as skittish as a damned rabbit out here.

"Keep it together, Billy!" he barked. "You damn near sent a sabot round through that farmhouse back there! Finger off the trigger until you got a confirmed target."

The gunner, Billy, nodded jerkily, grip still tight on the Abrams' controls. Mackall sighed, remembering his own first tense combat outing decades ago. He decided to cut the kid some slack. It wasn't his fault command had stuck them with such a green crew.

"Look kid, take a breath. You got this," he said in a calmer tone. "It's a quiet night. We get the first shot in, those alien bastards won't know what hit 'em. Now keep scanning, nice and easy."

Billy seemed to relax slightly at the encouragement. "Yeah...yeah, you got it Sarge. I'm good."

Mackall smiled beneath his helmet. "There ya go. Wait till you see the whites of their eyes. We'll bag us a few tin cans tonight."

He checked the thermal scope again. Somewhere out in that dark countryside, the enemy was on the move, unaware they were drifting into the crosshairs. When the moment came, Billy would be ready. Mackall would see to that personally.

These alien freaks had picked the wrong planet. The Abrams' main gun would serve as judge, jury and executioner. Once the killing started, nerves wouldn't be an issue. Training would take over.

"Steady Billy," Mackall murmured, peering into the scope. "Won't be long now."

"Got something!" the gunner whispered suddenly. "Multiple bogies, 1500 meters!" Mackall's eyes narrowed, searching the darkness. The enemy had snuck right up to the wire.

"Confirmed," he replied. "Target, range 1500, bearing 280."

He switched to the intercom. "Crew, standby! Target 1500!"

"Target acquired!" the loader yelled, slamming the breech shut. "Up!"

"On the way!" Billy shouted. The gun belched a tongue of fire, rocking the turret. Through the smoke, Mackall saw the distant flash of the sabot round impacting.

"Hit!" he exclaimed. "One down, range unchanged. Fire for effect!"

"Firing!" Billy cried, pumping out rounds. The ground rumbled as the Abrams' powerful main gun spewed a torrent of sabot and high explosive shells, obliterating the alien formation.

Mackall watched with grim satisfaction. This was their purpose - to crush the enemy beneath their tracks, no matter how fearsome they may be.

"Keep firing!" he yelled. "We got 'em on the ropes!" The enemy was on getting agitated, advancing blindly in the face of the devastating barrage. But Mackall wasn't finished. He had a special treat for these bastards

"Reload canister, and then switch to HEAT!" he ordered.

"Up!" the loader responded.

"Switching!" the HEAT round was slammed into the breech with a click. Mackall checked the targeting computer on the left side of his station. He spotted one target trying a feeble attempt at trying to flank them.

"Gunner, light up that sonovabitch trying to flank us" he ordered. Billy swung the turret to acquire the flanking enemy vehicle in his crosshairs. Through the thermal imaging, he could see it was one of the primitive tanks they used, possibly trying to get off a lucky shot from the side. But Mackall wasn't about to let that happen.

"Target acquired!" Billy called out. "Ready to fire!"

"Send it!" Mackall ordered.

Billy pulled the trigger, and the Abrams bucked as the high explosive anti-tank round streaked out. It crossed the distance in an instant, impacting the alien tank's thinly armored side in a blossom of fire. The turret popped off like a champagne cork, flaming debris raining down as the wreckage brewed up.

"Scratch one flanker!" Billy whooped. "Nice shot if I say so-"

His celebration was cut off by a deafening blast as a shell glanced off their heavily armored front. The Abrams rocked violently from the impact.

"Shit, return fire!" Mackall barked. "Find the bastard that did that!"

Billy quickly swung the turret, searching for the source as more rounds pelted against their hull. Whoever was shooting had zeroed in on them.

"There!" he shouted, sighting the enemy tank that was zeroing them. "I got the son of a bitch dead in my sights!"

"Smoke 'em!" Mackall ordered.

Billy pulled the trigger, and once more the Abrams thundered. Through the thermals, they watched the sabot round pierce clean through the primitive tank, leaving it a shredded wreck.

"Haha! Got you, you alien sumbitch!" Billy whooped. "That'll teach ya to shoot at this Abrams!"

Mackall grinned fiercely beneath his helmet. The kid had done good. "Nice shooting, Billy. That's why they pay you the big bucks."

The gunner laughed, already scanning for more targets. It was shaping up to be a profitable night.