The Red Frontier: Wrath of the Vanquished

Chapter 22: Target Acquired

Captain Winter threw his head forward in mid-air, diving downwards at full speed as the detonations cracked and boomed overhead. Fixing his gaze on Kenostros, his HUD highlighted the incoming projectiles; flak shells. All of them bearing in his general direction. Glancing at his radar, he saw the faint silhouettes of those under his command swerving left and right above him as the sound of more explosions filled his ears.

Looking up, Marcus saw another shell heading straight for him, and he pulled right immediately. His organs squelched as his thrusters bolted him sideways. Another shell came, and he barrel-rolled left, his gaze flipping over as he twisted through the air. He heard the whizz of shrapnel slicing through the air around him, followed by the high-pitched shriek of metal slicing steel.

Alarm spiked through Marcus' heart, but he gulped it down and focused. He turned his thoughts to his HUD, swiftly querying 'Any damage?' through his neural uplink, and the display quickly showed a response. In flashing green text in the top-left corner, it read 'All systems nominal.'

More flak artillery rocketed towards the Commandos, and the human troops dodged through the air to avoid them. It was like a performance on the battlefield, the soldiers swerving and spinning to the crushing beat of the explosions, the sky pulsing with sonic booms as fire, smoke and plasma jet trails illuminated the clouds above.

Soon, all the drones were gone, destroyed in the line of their duty. But the Orbital Commandos kept going.

Marcus led the airborne charge, darting left and right with each shot that was fired, the first-nature instincts of a thousand simulations guiding him onward. A shot came dead-on, he dashed sideways, little more than a blur as he darted away and the shell exploded fruitlessly ten feet from him. Another shot hurtled to his right, he rolled left and dove down, moving with the speed of a swooping falcon as his soldiers followed suit.

Overhead, the shimmering bubble of energy reknitted together, closing around the city from above. Everyone made it through in time, but nothing was coming to help them. They were on their own.

Marcus grimaced fiercely. Now was the hour. Salvation or doom was all that awaited them.

As the platoon dropped to 5,000 feet, the rhythm of their deadly dance grew faster, the anti-air batteries firing faster as their targets came closer. Innumerable skyscrapers loomed up ahead, decorated by a thousand explosions. It was a sight that Marcus could pay no heed to as he continued to dodge his attackers. The shots were coming so fast that the moment he dodged one, another four shots rocketed upwards, sprayed haphazardly and desperately from the city below.

A sudden cry of agony pierced his skull, followed by a hideous static crackle. Marcus' heart seized up, but he didn't look back. More explosions rocked the air, making his teeth rattle in his jaw as he gritted them together. One blew up to his left, and he swerved right to avoid it. Two more shots rocketed towards him, and he dove down.

Another cry blasted through his radio. Whose voice it was, he could barely tell before the sound of burning circuits consumed it. Again, he felt an acrid pain piercing his chest. A pain he had felt many times before.

Powering downwards, Marcus and the platoon dove beneath the 2,000 foot-tall skyscrapers, the A-A battery fire dying down as the Orbital Commandos swooped beneath the skyline. Holding his gaze straight ahead, Marcus levelled off his flying pattern and glanced at his radar. Diagonally forward-left was a glowing red beacon that drifted backwards as he flew forwards.

An energy signature.

Looking ahead again as he flew over the narrow street below, Marcus saw an upcoming left turn, lined on both sides by toward alien structures of dull grey and brown. Banking, he drifted into the corner, turning leftwards and surging forward down yet another street. One that ended with a thickly fortified slab of cast stone, over five stories tall and studded with gun turrets that immediately began to zero in on him. It was tall, but still beneath the flying Commandos.

Two words surged through Marcus' brain. A command. 'Thermal vision.'

The world instantly turned from brown and grey to blue and green, the dullness of this planet swept aside for a new perspective. That foreboding structure became cast in vibrant blue, save for two exceptions. First was the forty blots of orange that radiated from within; blots that took the shape of Sirthon soldiers. And the second was the great churning cuboid that burned like golden flame behind them all, hidden from sight and attack by the structure that surrounded it.

The generator.

"Fourty bogies detected" he announced to the company. "Jennifer, you still with me?"
A female voice replied grimly. "Aye, Captain."
Cool relief washed through the Horusan. "You, Ichiro and Nactes boost ahead and drop your breachers on the roof. Crack the shell and let it collapse on the generator."
"Nactes is gone, Marcus." Jennifer's voice replied. "He and Page got shot down in the descent."

Marcus heart panged in sorrow. More lives lost to this damn war. Lieutenants Robert Nactes and Megan Page.

"Then it'll just be you and Ichi. The rest of you, follow me." He paused, ready to lend emotion to his last remark. "This one's for Rob and Meg! Let's end this war for them!"

"Ooh-ra!" was the reply he received, followed a blast whoosh as two figures jetted straight past him, rocketing ahead. As that happened, Marcus pulled up, keeping his eyes focused on Jennifer and Ichiro, who bolted straight for the top of the bunker. Blaster fire hurtled towards them from a hundred angles, but the glowing lines of white-hot energy struck nothing but air as the two dove downwards, landing with a loud crunch upon the flattened roof of the building. Instantly, their free hands flew to their sides, gripping a disc-shaped object each and slamming them down into the concrete-like structure before jetting away.

High above, Marcus looked down and braced as Jenn and Ichi rocketed back towards him. Just as they rose to safe altitude, a huge rumble rocked the air and threw a thick cloud of powdered rock at them, ballooning outwards as the stone came crashing down into the building.

"Thermal vision! All of you!" Marcus barked abruptly, just as he switched his display accordingly. Looking at the building, he saw the Sirthon figures scatter and run from their positions, some even being crushed beneath the ensuing tide of rubble. However, none of the stone fell in on the generator. It all just piled up, leaving the machine to continue its work.

"Damn..." he muttered.
"What now, Captain?" A gentle male voice filled his ears. Ichiro.
Marcus rolled his shoulders as he hovered. "We go in. Weapons free. Engage all hostiles." His said those words promptly, taking his SMG in both hands. "Any questions?"

A menagerie of 'no sir's' replied to his query.
"In that case..." he turned to one of the helmeted figures that had just flown back; the shorter and more sleight of the two. "... Lieutenant Sakong, would you do the honours?"
The figure lifted its chin, tightening its grip around the handle of its own SMG. "Glady, sir." Jennifer's voice replied before her head turned to the rest of the hovering figures. "Let's go, people! For the Union!"

Everyone flickered their comms onto the 'outward' mode and cried out "For the Union!" at the tops of their voices before jetting straight downwards. The sound mingled with the fiery shrieking of plasma engines and the whoosh of whistling air as the platoon descended, hurtling straight for the hole that had been breached above the generator. Grasping his gun in both hands until his knuckles went white, Marcus lowered his gaze, flung himself upright and plunged into the thick cloud of dust, coming down with a loud crash.

His boots planted into a pile of rubble as he landed, crushing the concrete-like substance underneath the tread. Still in thermal vision mode, he scanned the room, peering through the screen of green and blue-tinted dust.

A group of four red-tinted figures immediately charged forward, carrying long-barrelled rifles in their angular arms, their wide and flat heads bobbing as they ran on their digitigrade legs. Marcus recognised the silhouettes instantly.

Sirthon.