A Bloody Omen

VOIDSIEGE THE CONFEDERATION: A BLOODY OMEN

One glance over his shoulder at the canyon wall was all it took for Dammis to stop the massive convoy. Just a few dust clouds leapt over the barren rock-strewn landscape, easily dismissed by most as natural, but Dammis knew better. He had seen this many times before. The convoy of armoured transport vehicles carrying mining supplies, cranes and drills came to a dead stop, perilously exposed. From within the long columns, tanks and soldiers quickly formed defensive positions as vast chunks of metal from the sides of the large convoy vehicles slammed into the ground to stabilise themselves. Across the bleached sand and dried-up plants, some half a mile from the convoy, a booming howl rose from the ground that Dammis could feel in the pit of his stomach. A massive section of the canyon wall suddenly gave way, spewing dust into the air. A mass of Underan hunters mounted ominously atop their horrific beasts leapt out from the ground, cracking the humid air with their war cries.

Dammis charged backwards, sliding down the back of the tank that now opened fire along with a dozen others, sending their screaming projectiles smashing into the Underan mass. Clambering up the side of a mining vehicle, Dammis glanced all around as more of the terrain gave way. It was a trap, and his convoy was in the middle. Luck was on the Coalition side. Thanks to Dammis, the convoy had been able to set up defensively, but he couldn't think about that now as the Underan bore down on them from all sides. The shells and machine guns from the tanks pummelled the advancing cavalry, tearing holes through the mighty warriors and sending plumes of flesh and bone spiralling in all directions. The massive Underan pressed forward, steadfast and without fear even now as the soldier's weapons opened up. They were challenging to miss.

An average Underan hunter stood nearly twelve feet tall, their frames bulked with muscle. Atop their riding beasts, they presented a massive target. Still, their size was simply a tiny glimpse of the power they wielded. Bearing the brunt of the bombardment and shrugging off multiple bullet wounds, the lines of Underan smashed into the convoy with such force that the tanks shuddered a couple of meters back into the perimeter. Some Underan leapt from their mounts in a frenzy, hammering the tops of the Tanks with their clubs. It was a primitive weapon but shone with an almost indestructible resin. They wielded it with such force they could dent tank armour and, in such a frenzy, they could tear the lid of a tank open like a can. As the tanks continued to open fire, some Underan sent shattering blows into the barrels, splitting the metal and bending them, making them unusable. They ripped the machine guns from the vehicles with their bare hands as their mounts tore at their armour. Dammis, who stood behind the second line that the Underan now streamed for, whispered to himself, "Phase one contact complete. Phase two anvil commence."

A battalion of Soldiers waited, joined by the others falling back from the front line. "ANVIL," Dammis yelled out as the vehicles in front of them parted under the strength of the Underan. As soon as even the smallest gap opened, the soldiers opened fire. The Underan charging through the hole pushed into a wall of projectiles so dense many flew back as the scolding metal shredded their bodies. More gaps opened up all around them, and the soldiers concentrated their fire. Stream after stream, Underan fell, unable to reach the defensive position. One suddenly charged to one of the vehicles and leapt into the air, landing amongst the soldiers. In a split second, he grabbed a soldier and tore him in two before five others spun around and put him down, filling the air with fragments of his skull.

More of the hulking Underan charged their way in amongst the Soldiers, smashing their brittle bodies into pools of blood in the dust before they fell. Others were sent spinning in all directions, their broken bodies bouncing off the surrounding vehicles under the impact of an Underan club. Dammis issued commands to every soldier in the defence. All units synced and began to coordinate firepower wherever it was needed. Further, towards the centre of the convoy, large turrets rose from the shining silhouettes of the vehicles, pinpointed breaches in the defence, and laid down a blanket of suppressing fire. The shells passed through the gaps in the soldiers, felling charging Underan as they stood poised, their weapons lifted, to deliver a killing blow. The stabilised outer vehicles presented only small gaps for the Underan to push through as they attempted to break through to where the Soldiers waited. But it was never going to be that easy.

Dammis felt the ground shudder with a powerful impact, and the heavy vehicle in front shook menacingly. His visor flashed up, and an image from one of the tank commanders on the other side of the vehicle wall came into his view. The Commander shook violently, showing signs of external impacts on the tank, and he spoke in a calm yet urgent tone. "Varcousin, several of us are gone. We're still giving these fuckers a good run around, but we can't stay here. You have a nasty Spidran grub about to fuck up your front line, though. We can't get firepower down on it, so you must prepare for a shit storm. We are falling back as far as possible to keep up our offence, but it might get quiet out here fairly soon." Dammis quickly issued more orders before ending the connection with the Commander. "Thank you, Cousin, Gragon, watch your back."

Once again, the fight was interrupted by another earth-shattering impact. Then, a set of gigantic dripping mandibles rose above the vehicle and clamped down with a sudden lunge as the jaws pieced into the hull. As Dammis gave the order to fall back, it rose from the ground with the hydraulic pistons that held it down, screaming and tearing apart as it hurtled forward. Dammis threw himself to the ground, the hundred-tonne metal frame passing over him. It crashed into the top of another vehicle behind, slamming down and crushing a handful of startled soldiers who had no chance to prevent their fate. Looking up from the dust, Dammis saw the horrific Spidran grub pull itself sideways with spider-like legs protruding from its almost translucent bulk. Its menacing mandibles disappeared behind the next vehicle as the mounted Underan charged forward. The beasts leapt upon soldiers with one swift movement that crushed them underfoot as the jaws grasped and pulled at their heads and torsos. The soldiers fell back, but the Underan had built up momentum, and they hammered the line of vehicles, widening the gaps and pouring into the soldiers. The mass of mounted monsters charged at full speed toward the soldiers who stayed in a defensive posture, unemotional and without fear, while firing into the oncoming enemy.

Some soldiers let fly with explosives and short-range handheld artillery as other's Fizion bayonets charged and rippled in front of their barrels. Both forces smashed together. Underan on their mounts whipped their bladed weapons upwards, carving soldiers in two as their beasts ripped and tore at anything in their path. Soldiers stepped forward, ducking under the slashing monsters to deliver a volley into the riders or the eyes of their mounts. Warriors spun through the air, crashing down amongst others that had fallen as the line trampled over corpses and injured alike. Soldiers with mortal injuries and broken bones continued to fight on, crawling through the remains of their kin, spitting blood through their clenched teeth to put another monster face down. The Underan themselves clawed onwards, shrugging off grievous wounds. Their bodies had adapted to this bloody warfare over millennia of infighting. Bullet wounds that had torn holes through their torso only seemed to slow them down, and dismemberment from the Coalition firepower gave them one less limb to attack. It was a brutal close-quarter brawl that would break anyone's morale. But the Coalition was Elite. Battle-hardened and disciplined to the greatest extent, they battled on with every breath, often going toe to toe with these savages almost three times their size rather than leave their post.

The fabled Fizion bayonet could cut through nearly anything with ease. It could carve an Underan into bloodied chunks in a split second. Still, with a short range, it meant getting close and personal into the kill zone of melee with a hulking Underan. Dammis, now in the thick of the fighting, continued coordinating the defence. He monitored the advancing enemy from his visor, reallocating soldiers to strengthen his position. For the most part, the battle had been tame. The Underan had kept most of their beasts at the perimeter, and Dammis had an idea why. This force that they had encountered was by no means an army. Typically, the Underan "hunters," of the type they were now fighting, would be accompanied by many other more specialised Underan. They were notorious for using a technique called "Undecraag," or Breath of the Ground. It would shroud their forces as they attacked, bringing in much larger beasts and fearsome weapons often lined with necrotic poisons. This "hunting party" knew the Coalition tactic: draw in the enemy, pin it down, and then call in the support to surround and destroy. It was not a good sign. If these hunters no longer feared the Coalition and knew to secure their exit, it would mean trouble for all the settlements beyond Icinir, the Coalition homeland. The conflict between the two peoples would become more difficult for the Coalition.

Dammis allowed his mind to wander for a split second as a chunk of scrap, once a machine gun turret, hurtled towards him. Another soldier beside him shoulder barged Dammis, sending him rolling to the ground as the mangled metal howled past. Disorientated, Dammis crawled back to his feet. The soldier looked him in the eyes, "I think we should call this one Varcousin!" Dammis looked back at the battle raging. It was not going to go the way he wanted. With a few button presses on the interface device mounted on his wrist, the signal to the incoming craft which had held back was sent. High above the canyon, a group of aircraft shot towards the convoy armed with many explosives and targeted weaponry. Almost instinctively, the Underan had begun to fall back, with many leaping atop abandoned beasts, their masters felled and running out of the convoy.

The Coalition soldiers continued to pick off the withdrawing hunters, their desert-camouflaged uniforms now covered in bright red blood. Dammis could see the disappointed look on their enemies' faces as they exited the column. He knew the feeling was not from the withdrawal but their views on the tactics employed against them. They wanted to fight to victory or die in the thick of combat, not to be picked off by the Coalition flying pests. As the Underan scattered, a blinding flash erupted, and a flurry of explosions vaporised the hunters that had been too slow to get out of range. Dammis stared out through the opening in the convoy walls as the Underan melted away into the canyon walls. He looked around him at the carnage strewn all over the convoy as the medical craft loomed over the horizon. The battle had been costly, but that was nothing new. However, this behaviour from their enemy was, and it was going to cause problems. The Primarshals were not going to be happy.