Battle Earth I

Chapter 5

Commander Kelly stepped back through the bunker doors where Colonel Visser was still hiding with his few guards. They’d managed to regain contact with some of the major buildings on the Moon colony through hard lines and were now able to watch the destruction on the security feeds. Kelly’s head was cut and bleeding and sweat dripped from his face.

“Colonel! What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

“The, the, people, we’re lost!”

“Get your fucking head on your shoulders! I will not let these alien bastards take our homes without a fight!”

“Commander, we are finished here!”

Kelly slapped the UEN Colonel with the backhand of his glove, the hard platting striking his cheek and cutting the flesh.

“You were stationed here for a reason, Colonel! We are soldiers, now act like one!”

The Colonel looked up at the video screens. The great metal clad monsters still stomped through the colony with their energy weapons blazing. The soldiers of the UEN and MDF were putting up a valiant fight but were being driven back in most sectors.

“What can we do? What can we do against such monsters?” cried Visser.

“We do whatever we have to do, Colonel! We are fighting for our very homes and lives!”

“I am sorry, Commander, but I have no choice but to surrender. I will not sit by and watch our people butchered. They are killing civilians and soldiers alike.”

“You do whatever you have to do, Colonel, but my men will never lay down our arms!”

He stormed out of the room with eight of the MDF soldiers at his side. The cowardice of the UEN Colonel almost brought him to tears.

“Get a message out to all forces, amass around this building, we make our stand here!”

Kelly turned back, he had utter disdain for the Colonel and he would not let him surrender from the Prime Minister’s own bunker. Let alone the fact that it was the strongest defensive location they had to hand. He rushed back into the room where Visser sat with his head in his hands. The Commander shook the man by his shoulders until he looked up at him.

“Colonel Visser, I am assuming command of all UEN forces on the colony, as you are unfit to command. You may surrender to the enemy, but you will do it alone, and not from this building. Now get out of my sight!”

“Hey, Charlie, what’s the situation there?” asked Taylor.

The Major had just made contact with the British officer via live video feed. The Captain was in full armour with his rifle slung over his body.

“It’s chaos here, I’m at the base in Rennes, France. We have lost contact with two EUA ships in the Atlantic. Everyone here is preparing for war, but officially we are still just on a high alert level, how is it there?”

“Same shit here. Everybody knows we’re in for a fight but the bloody politicians are still pussy footing about. Keep in touch, Captain, we’re going to need everything we’ve got over the coming days and weeks.”

“Will do, good luck, Major.”

The intercom cut off and Captain Jones turned and quickly strolled out of the field office into the open air of the Rennes base. The area was electric, alive like it had never been before. Armoured vehicles rolled around and aircraft flew overhead. The loudspeakers rang out and the huge viewing screens beside them fired into life. Brigadier Dupont addressed the base, something that had never happened before during his posting to Rennes.

“Attention all base personnel. As of 1500 hours, the unidentified vessel has landed in the Atlantic and appears to have expanded and established itself into a self-contained continent. We have lost contact with a number of naval vessels and there are reports of them being destroyed. Our scanners are at present showing that smaller vessels are approaching the French and Spanish coast lines in substantial numbers, with further airborne vehicles incoming.”

The Brigadier took a deep breath as he sighed in disbelief about what he was having to read.

“At this stage, we must assume that we are in a state of war. You will shortly be receiving your orders through the chain of command. Two divisions from Rennes are being dispatched to the coast in preparation of any necessary defence. For those men and women who are being sent to defend our shores, know that you have the support of the world behind you. Good luck to you all, and Godspeed!”

The video feeds cut out and announcements rang out across the base for all personnel to report immediately to their base commanders and designated rally points. Lieutenant Green and Corporal Hughes stepped up beside Jones as he made his way to his battalion formation area.

“Think we’ll be heading to the front line, Sir?” asked Hughes.

“Almost certainly, there are only three full divisions combat ready on the base and they’ll want to keep one of the French divisions here for the defence of the city.”

“You think they’re concerned that we wouldn’t be able to hold them back?”

“Yes, Green. We’re facing an unknown enemy with unknown capabilities. They’d be fools to send everything to the front line, a system of layered defence has proven advantageous on countless occasions during invasion.”

Minutes later Jones arrived at the Battalion Divisional officers’ meeting while the rest of the men assembled on the parade grounds, eagerly awaiting news of who would be sent to face this new threat.

“Gentlemen, time is of the essence here, so I will be brief. Your division, along with the 2 ^ nd Armoured French Division, is being dispatched immediately to the west coast. As of this time we have absolutely no idea of the enemy strength or intentions. The two divisions will be tasked with the defence of the coast from Brest to Nantes. It’s a lot of ground to cover, but the reality is we are against the clock here. Enemy forces will be at the coastline in a matter of hours. Any questions you have will have to be answered via communication en route. That’ll be all, gentlemen, good luck,” said Dupont.

The officers all turned and rushed out of the room. They were beginning to understand the severity of the situation. They knew the military capability of units in the area, and knew that it could be days before further units could be deployed in any capacity.

Reaching his platoon, the men were already fully formed up beside their vehicles. As an infantry unit in peacetime deployment they were only equipped with unarmoured vehicles, but that would at least allow them to cover ground quickly. He surveyed his men, they carried no field equipment, only ammunition and body armour. A hasty deployment would get them in action quickly, but they’d need re-supplying fast.

“Mount up!” Jones ordered.

The parachute regiment platoon consisted of three sections of ten men, as well as a four-man command section, which included Lieutenant Green, himself and his batman, Private Saunders. The platoon loaded up into two open top trucks while the command section took the Captain’s personal vehicle, a Rapid Deployment Vehicle (RDV). In the vein of the WW2 Jeep, the RDV was a lightweight, open top all terrain vehicle. It was capable of carrying four personnel and had a passenger mounted BRUN light machinegun.

It was a hundred kilometres to the coastline and travelling in convoy their speed would be reduced. Typically their battalion would be deployed using aircraft, which would have sped up their deployment. But all aircraft in Rennes were being used to transport the armoured divisions’ vehicles, or to collect and deploy troops to the border of the city.

Getting to the coastline was not at all a concern for Jones. It would be a ninety-minute drive to reach the very start of the positions they had to defend. What concerned him more was that without a good supply of aircraft they’d have no fast way back. He’d heard from Major Taylor about the combat ability of the enemy they faced, and it was more than eye opening. He was only thankful that they could fight on home soil back on Earth.

The convoy was on the outskirts of Brest. Captain Jones had been briefed, but being only a platoon leader he knew that he’d only been given half the story. His communication with Major Taylor had put him in a better stead than most of the units, but he still felt more than just uneasy.

“Hey, Sir, why aren’t the population evacuating?” asked Saunders.

The officer’s batman was driving the RDV and Jones sat in the commander’s seat at the machine gun.

“At this stage we simply do not know what to expect, Private. Evacuating a major city would create chaos and need immense resources. More importantly, from our perspective the roads would be clogged as panic rapidly spread. Right now the priority is that we get troops at the coast as a barrier to whatever threat exists, if any.”

“So we just leave the people here and hope they’ll be ok?”

The Captain sighed as he looked out across the old city and imagined the huge innocent civilian population that inhabited it. He didn’t like it either, but he had his orders.

“Think of it this way. Private. If whatever is coming up those beaches cannot be stopped by two divisions, then what good would such a late evacuation do?”

The Private went silent. The very idea that so many thousands of the finest troops in the world could be cast aside was a chilling thought to dwell upon. The radio cut in and it ordered the parachute battalion to head for a beach south of the city. The 2 ^ nd Parachute Battalion was attached to a regular British infantry division.

Jones looked at his Mappad, it showed the positions all the units had taken up. The two divisions we spread across a fifteen-kilometre line of the coast. Most of the armour was around the traditional old naval city, though some of the heavier equipment could not be airlifted and was still en route via road.

Having no armour support was a daunting thought to the men of the parachute regiment. Jones knew how heavily armoured their enemy was and the fearful circumstances the airborne forces were now facing.

They eventually rolled up at the desolate beach. It was a mix of stone and sand. It would be a pleasant place to spend time on a warm day, though many of the men were already familiar with it, having spent time there. The barren area provided little cover beyond small embankments and dunes.

As the battalion took up its position across the beachhead they were struck by the intimidating sight of the enemy ships approaching. They could only make out a rough blurred shape of each as they used the same chameleon camouflage technology Taylor had described. However, the spray gave their position away. They were all thankful for radar and other sensory technology, otherwise the coast would have gone undefended.

Captain Jones stood up on a grass embankment and held up his binoculars to his eyes. The enemy vessels could be seen as far as he could see either side of their position. The binoculars were having difficulty calculating the size of the near invisible craft. Six were heading for the area they were covering. Jones turned pack to his platoon, some were lying prone against the mounds, others standing open mouthed. All were watching the approaching forces.

“Right, boys! No time to dig in, get the BRUNs ready and take up positions!”

Within two minutes the entire platoon lay silently beyond the raised earth and dunes, looking over the bleak coastline. They were less than two hundred metres from the water, perfect range to lay down fire. The intercoms of each man in the unit cut in, Brigadier Dupont was addressing all men of both divisions as one.

“This is Dupont. Anticipate a hostile enemy, but do not fire unless fired upon. Remember, if it comes to it, they are weaker at their joints and face. Good luck to you all!”

Jones knew that the Brigadier would be surveying the situation from long distance, likely still in the Rennes base, though he didn’t envy him. The Captain had signed up for the kind of adventure and wars that he’d read about and witnessed on the news as a child, not the uncertainty of an advanced alien race. The unknown was scarier to the men than any army in the world.

“You heard the Brigadier, not a single shot unless we are fired upon!” shouted Jones.

He stared at the mysterious and imposing craft. They were travelling at a vast speed across the water. He wondered for a moment at their intentions. With no communication, it appeared odd to him that they would simply attack. As far as he was aware, no human had shown any aggression towards whoever they were. As they were just a few hundred metres from the shoreline the vehicles slowed and their cloaking technology came off.

They appeared crude in design, with harsh lines. Earth ships had long been designed to be incredibly efficient, whether they travelled by air or water. These craft appeared to use immense power with little finesse. The skins were of a raw metal-like fabric, and they were almost twice the size of a main battle tank. Jones shot a glance around at his men.

“Have we got the ARMAL launchers with us?”

“Yes, Sir, but for what?” Hughes asked.

“Just get them ready!”

They had three of the anti-armour launchers in their platoon, one for each section. The devices folded up onto the backs of the men carrying them. At ranges of up to a hundred metres they were capable of taking out light to medium armoured vehicles, and even something heavier at close range if it hit the sweet spot.

The time for preparation was over. The platoon watched in horror as the vehicles slid up onto the beaches, but they didn’t stop. Tracks on either side running the length and outline of the vehicles began to spin, pulling the huge craft onto the beach. The giant metal monsters resembled enlarged versions of WW1 tanks, which they had only ever seen in movies and museums.

“Jesus Christ!” shouted Saunders.

“Keep it down!”

The tracked monsters were crawling up the beach at less than ten kilometres an hour. Jones hoped that was all they were capable of, but he knew that they would not have such luck. Hatches at the rear of the vehicles struck the beach as they continued, and then they saw them, just as Taylor’s report had said. The massive creatures stepped out as the tanks continued forward.

“We’re gonna need air support,” said Green.

“Remember, no contact unless we are engaged,” Jones ordered.

“You think these bastards have come for a picnic?”

“Command will be seeing what’s going on, they’ll do whatever they deem necessary.”

“Yeah, while we get our balls blown off!”

Jones turned back to the incoming alien forces and watched as the last of the steel monsters clambered out of the vehicles. They were not graceful creatures, but he could only watch in awe at their striking image. Eight of the armoured soldiers exited from each of the six vehicles. Forty-eight against the battalion’s almost seven hundred men were the sort of odds that any soldier would like, but not here.

The vehicles suddenly came to a close and the massive soldiers spread out between them. It was if they had stopped to admire the view, looking around in every direction. To Jones they were the aliens, but he realised to them, everything on Earth was alien. As the soldiers stepped from the hard wet sand of the waterline, they began to sink into the sand.

For a moment the Captain thought the enemy had underestimated the terrain, and a few of his lads began to laugh. Seconds later, the armoured soldiers pressed buttons on their suits and giant webbed feet extended from their spring legs, giving the same effect as snow shoes, expanding their surface area. The men of the platoon laughed no longer, they were quickly learning that this was not an enemy to be taken lightly.

“What do we do, Sir?”

“Absolutely nothing, Green, this is their move.”

The enemy surveyed the line of mounds and dunes where the battalion was set up. It was fairly clear that they had spotted the troops, what was uncertain was their intentions. Guns began to rise from the roof sections of the tanks, but they were comparatively small for the size of vehicles. As the guns locked into position the vehicles started to roll forward, the soldiers between them. Then without warning, light erupted from their weapons.

Huge pulses of light landed around their positions, they could feel the heat from each blast even ten metres away. For whatever technology they did have, targeting equipment did not seem to be their strong point.

“What do we do, Sir?” screamed Saunders.

“Hold!”

An explosion ripped down the line of defences in the platoon next to theirs. One of the rounds hit a man square on and blew his body apart, cauterising the bloody wounds in the process from the immense heat. Smoke arose from the body as one of his comrades screamed in pain from a lesser injury.

“Fire!” shouted Jones.

The beachhead erupted into a constant bellowing of gunfire. The accurate shooting of the para boys would have flattened a human wave attack, but the metal monsters continued forwards. The cannon-like turret mounted weapons on the vehicles fired in a slow but almost continuous barrage. Two of Jones’ platoon were hit by rounds from enemy fire. Over the gunfire he could already hear the screams for help and the cries of pain, he could do nothing about it, they needed every gun firing.

One of the alien soldiers stepped ahead of the rest and he was immediately targeted by half the battalion’s gunfire. The amount of metal smashing into his armour forced the creature to a standstill, until finally it collapsed through injuries sustained.

“That’s it, boys, take them down!”

The enemy tanks began to gain pace and were now within just a hundred metres of them. Jones turned to see his company commander running down the lines. Three of his platoon were dead and two more wounded.

“Get the ARMALs into action!”

They all had radio comms, but Jones knew many of the men would be too distracted by the fire fight and their fallen comrades to listen to any commands given. One of the men a few metres to his side lifted the device onto his shoulder and took aim. Before he could fire he was hit by one of the enemy weapons, taking half his face off and rendering the weapon useless.

Jones dropped back gasping at the slaughter around him. He turned to the other two men who lay against the embankment with the launchers.

“Get up there and fire!”

The Captain pulled himself up to survey the situation and lifted his rifle into view. Four of the creatures lay dead or at least incapacitated on the sand, but it was a small relief compared to the casualties of the battalion.

The first ARMAL fired, a large smoke plume erupting from the launcher. The rocket soared towards the first vehicle at high speed and smashed into it. The round ignited into a huge flash as it struck. The vehicle continued on through the smoke cloud, its armour scorched and torn. The men could see that they had damaged it, just not enough.

Looking down the line of paras, Jones could already see that the other platoons were putting their launchers into effect. Seconds later three launchers fired almost in sequence at the same vehicle. The second caused it to burst into flames and draw to a halt. The third padded through the gaping hole in the armour and must have finished off whatever was controlling the vehicle, as no one made an attempt to escape.

Cries of victory and excitement rang out across the line of defences as the men threw their arms up in the air and shouted abuse at their attackers. The enemy didn’t seem fazed by the destruction of their vehicle and continued on towards the soldiers.

“Alright, reload and give them all you’ve got!” shouted Jones.

Major Stewart, Jones’ company commander, ran up to their position and threw himself onto the embankment beside the Captain. His ear was bleeding and his radio earpiece was hanging loose.

“Are you okay, Sir?”

“The Colonel is dead, Captain, HQ staff with him!”

The Major was shouting, his hearing was blown and he was still in a state of shock, perhaps disorientated as well.

Jones looked quickly back over the defences and fired three bursts at the nearest attacker. Smoke trails let out from along the lines as every platoon tried to take out the enemy tanks with their ARMAL launchers. He looked back to the stricken Major.

“Who’s in charge of the battalion, Sir?”

“I am, Captain! What do I do?”

Jones looked down at the Major, his hands were empty. He reached across to one of the bodies of his fallen men and tugged the rifle from the dead soldier’s hands. He thrust it into the clutches of the Major.

“Get up there and start shooting!”

The Captain returned the same target he’d been firing at, the armoured beast was now staggering, its leg armour damaged. He let out several well-aimed bursts at the mirrored section of what he thought was its face, just as Taylor had advised. A gunner beside him targeted the same spot with sustained fire from his BRUN gun, the glass-like section shattered sending the Mech stumbling into the sand in a crumpled and twisted mess.

A pulse of light flashed past Jones’ head. He ducked but was fortunate that it was already off target, the heat of the shot singed his face and eyebrows. He turned to see Saunders cradling his arm to his side. His batman was wounded and his armour and clothing were smouldering. He had no sympathy for the man, not when their friends were dying around them.

“Saunders! Get your arse up there and keep fighting!”

He crawled up to the top of the embankment to see the carnage of the battlefield. At least fifteen of the Mechs were now destroyed, but he could see dead and wounded men all along their defences. The enemy were just thirty metres from their position and still approaching at a steady pace.

“Grenades!” he shouted.

Every man in the battalion carried two grenades. The high explosive fragmentation grenades had a blast radius of five metres and were highly effective against the regular infantry armours that Earth forces used. Jones drew out his first grenade and twisted the firing mechanism, looking around to see others doing the same before quickly throwing it as far as he could. Ducking back behind cover, he waited and hoped.

Explosions ignited all along the line of the attackers. Seconds later they were joined by bellowing shells from the north, far louder than anything on their battlefield. Jones turned to look to the north, but the land obscured his view. Over and over they heard cannons firing.

“It’s the 2 ^ nd Armoured!” shouted Green.

The men wanted to cheer, but they were too distracted by the enemy closing in on them.

“Alright, boys, give them everything you’ve got!” Jones ordered.

He twisted the trigger on his second grenade and threw it over the top, immediately lifting his rifle and opening fire. The battalion brought its full weight to bare, grenades, ARMAL launchers and machine guns. Despite the hailstorm of bullets and rockets, the Mechs continued to fire. Explosions erupted all across the sands as the tanks were punctured and set on fire, the armoured soldiers crippled and destroyed.

Finally, the beach went silent, only the heavy guns to the north continued to roar. Captain Jones stood up on the embankment and looked down the length of the defences. He could see medics working desperately to patch up and save the wounded. There were six dead in his platoon alone and several wounded.

“Saunders, get onto the Brigadier, inform him that we have held the beachhead but sustained heavy casualties!”

He looked out to the burning wrecks of the vehicles and the collapsed armoured soldiers around them.

“The rest of the platoon with me!”

Jones released the magazine from his rifle, slipping in a new clip as he walked cautiously. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder and kept it ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Black smoke bellowed from the flames of the vehicles, but they were fortunate that the winds blew it south.

“Shoot anything that moves!”

He carefully walked up to the first Mech’s body. It was on its back with one of its legs buckled from an explosion, likely from a grenade. Staring at the armour more closely, it was not as crude as first thought. The design work was brutish and harsh, but the quality of construction was fine engineering.

Kneeling down beside the body, he rested his hand on the metal work. It was smooth, as if highly polished, yet the finish was quite dull. He tapped it with the plated knuckles of his gloves. It was thick, he guessed about ten millimetres. He lifted one of the lifeless arms of the suit and it was surprisingly light. He could only imagine that the metal was of an unknown material.

The Major turned back to look at the positions they had fought from. There were craters all along the embankments and scattered bodies. His curiosity about the enemy was over, all he cared about was that they were dead. He moved back to the defences as gunshots rang out behind him. The last few living Mechs were being finished off with no mercy.

He stopped next to an army medical corps officer who was attending a wounded man. The enemy’s energy weapon had burnt through the flank of the chest section, taking some of the man’s flesh with it. Major Stewart sat near them with his head in his hands.

“Major, what are the total casualties?”

The officer said nothing, not even turning to look at the Captain.

“Major!”

The doctor turned and answered the question himself, understanding the state of shock Stewart was experiencing.

“Reports so far for the battalion are ninety-five dead, thirty-six wounded. These weapons don’t leave many casualties.”

Jones shook his head. Their unit had never lost more than three soldiers on any operation in the last ten years. The officers in charge of the other companies strolled into view, their faces were wrought with despair. They were led by Major Chandra, a bold woman, and the only female to lead a company in the parachute regiment.

“Captain, The Colonel is dead, we’ve also lost quite a few other officers and NCOs.”

“Major Stewart is unfit for command and I have relieved him, with his permission.”

Chandra nodded, it was the worst day of her illustrious career. Never could she have imagined so much carnage among such a fine troop of soldiers.

“You are now commanding D Company?” she asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then I am making you Acting Commander of D Company. I am the senior officer left here and am assuming command of the Battalion.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ve faced a shit storm here, Captain, but we cannot afford to slack and lick our wounds. Assign a replacement to command your platoon, have your troops salvage any ammunition from the dead and start digging in.”

“Sir!”

“What the hell is that?” shouted Green.

Captain Jones turned to look out into the Atlantic. He was squinting to make out what was behind the trailing black smoke plumes from the wrecked vehicles. He raised his binoculars not believing what he could see. On the horizon he could make out the same blurred outlines of the enemy amphibious tanks steaming towards the shoreline. They were just thirty minutes out at the most, and in greater numbers.

“My, God!”

“Keep firing!” shouted Kelly.

The MDF men stood in three lines firing repeatedly at the metal monsters as they went around the corner of the narrow corridor up ahead. Two of the Mechs were already down. In the close range they could concentrate their fire well against single enemies, although they had little cover. Their comrades lay strewn among the dead civilians in every area of the colony. The third armoured soldier before them dropped lifeless to the deck.

“Sir, we must fall back!” shouted Private Lewis.

Kelly looked around the corridor at the carnage. A number of his comrades were wounded, many more were dead or dying in the ground they had already fought over. They had put up a noble fight and had brought down many a foe, but he knew they were fighting a losing battle.

“I will not give up our homeland!”

“Sir, we’ve already lost it, all that’s left are the people!”

The Commander looked around in despair, a small trickle of blood dripped down his worn and tired face where the impact from an explosion had knocked him against an interior wall. His face was black with dirt and sweat, he ached in every bone and muscle in his body. He was almost brought to tears, knowing that they had lost everything they’d fought for.

Commander Kelly had been in charge of the Moon Defence Force for twenty-two years, a role that he had inherited from his father. Never could he have imagined that he would have to concede it to a technologically advanced alien race, which appeared to want nothing more but to execute them all.

“Alright, fall back to the bunker!”

The Private looked relieved as he sent out the command to their forces. However, it didn’t completely remove the worry from his face. No one knew if surrender was even a possibility against the iron army they fought. The Commander turned and led his men back to the re-enforced blast bunker.

As he approached the lines of dead and dying lining the corridors confronted him. Anyone still able to hold a gun was stood or propped up outside the blast doors. The men did their best to stand to attention as the Commander went past them, but many were gritting their teeth under the pain of their injuries. Kelly smiled back at them in appreciation, desperately trying to hide his sorrow.

He went straight up to the comms officer who was watching the video feeds that were still operational. He rubbed his eyes and squinted to make out what he was seeing from the rooftop cameras.

“It’s Colonel Visser, Sir.”

Kelly studied the video intently. The Colonel was standing on the roof of the government building in his compression suit. He wore no weapons and only held one object, a white flag slung on an l-shape pole.

“What the hell is he doing? He’s surrendering, or trying to!”

“Maybe we should join him,” said Lewis.

Before Kelly could respond he watched as a glimmer panned across the screen, an enemy vessel in its terrain mapping camouflage. The vessel landed on the rooftop just thirty metres from the Colonel. He still held the white flag high in both arms. The Commander hated Visser for being a coward earlier on in the fight, but now he hoped with all his heart that he would come to no harm.

The vessel’s chameleon device switched off as a door opened and three armoured aliens stomped out onto the roof. Visser stood his ground. They could see that he was trying to speak to them, under the hope that they might understand something of what he said, or at least his intentions.

Of the three armoured soldiers, the one at the front stood out from the rest. The armour was decorated with a golden coloured banding on the corner edges and painted with symbols that meant nothing to them. This creature held some form of authority over the rest.

“What are they doing, Sir?” asked Lewis.

“I don’t know.”

As the men watched the screens in both anticipation and fear, the lead alien lifted his arm and fired a small pulse weapon attached to his arm. The shot blasted straight through Colonel Visser’s chest and out the back, leaving a gaping hole. He died instantly. None of them said a word.

In that moment Kelly knew that their struggle was far from over. There was no surrender, no retreat. He turned to his men, thirty soldiers surrounded the desks, many more were waiting outside the bunker. He had a grim expression on his face. Gone was the warmness in his heart, replaced with shear hatred, all he had left was survival and revenge.

“There it is for you all to see! These bastards don’t just want our land. They want our lives! You have only two choices before you, lay down and die, or fight!”

The room remained silent as they all clung to his words. Many of their families were already dead and many more were unaccounted for. At fifty-eight years of age, Kelly never expected that he would ever have to lead a serious combat operation, let alone an army.

“This colony has endless underground corridors, bunkers and research tunnels. We can no longer hold onto ground, we can no longer fight in open war. Today we go underground. Tomorrow we fight back. Let no one be unclear here. The following days and weeks will be more horrific than any of you can imagine. Earth is at war and we have no rescue in sight. But I’ll be damned if I am going to die without a fight! Who is with me?”