Operation: Phoenix, Battle of the TRES HQ, Pt 3

        by CyberPyro (cybrpyro@iac.net)

        Wheri'El stomped through the snow towards the tent of the X'hirjq
commander.  His assistants followed closely behind, clearly nervous at
walking into the middle of the aliens' camp.  The sorcerer stopped suddenly,
his helpers almost crashing into him.  The area around of the trio of Lyrans
shimmered and sparkled as six Devourer class BattleArmor suits decloaked.
        They were trapped.  Escape was impossible.  An attempt to run would
get them torn in half by a flick of the Devourers' claw.  Why hadn't they 
sensed them coming?
        [You desire to speak with X'huurrj'qx?] queried their leader.
        "Obviously," spoke the Lyran mage, a tad irritated at his allies'
habit of appearance.  Perhaps it was his species' long-forgotten hunting
instincts he resented so strongly in these allies.  He'd probably never know.
        [One moment] thought the leader, the circle about them tightening as
she left to address her commander.

        The Lyrans bit back a protest as the Devourers drew their circle even
tighter.  They had no option but to wait for an invitation to the commander's
tent.  Gharn'll fidgeted more than her teacher, visibly uncomfortable, and
fought off the creeping grip of hysteria.  Her gaze darted about the circle
of BattleArmor and noted over the claw of one suit that the sun had begun to
rise in the East.

...

        The new day's sun stabbed through the narrowing gap between Earth and
Sky.  Row upon row of BattleArmored TRES Marines stood glittering in the
morning sun, waiting for something to happen.
        The initial arrival of spongin had proven disappointing.  Rather than
running smiling to their deaths in the dark, they'd camped out and waited for
the next day to come.
        The TRES Command staff didn't like this one bit.  It was the mark of
a thinking enemy.  Obviously, Lyrans or X'hirjq must be controlling the
masses.

...


        The Dark Hymn of the Hell Wyrm boomed across the barricades TRES
Marines erected to block Route 87.  Even from a mile away, the 6000 watt
speakers of the Wyrm Bots, playing in unison, proved greatly annoying.  If
they were allowed to get close enough, the noise would be deafening.
        "Oh, wonderful," CyberPyro said, looking at the advancing hordes of
spongies through his Wrath of Arioch's visor.  The first wave had split into
groups: the first obvious cannon-fodder, the second sponge combat troops
mixed with Jello Beasts, and the final wave all Wyrm bots.
        "Listen up, people," CP commanded, opening a channel on TacNet, "the
first wave is really big, but weak.  Use your weapons strictly according to
the priority list outlined in orders.  Conserve ammo as much as posible, and
never waste a shot."

...

        The spongies marched through the snow, kicking up clouds of powder
as they moved towards the lines of Jihaddi.  Occassionally, one would stop
and make a snow angel, only to be chastized by a senior sponge minion.
        "CHARGE!!!!!!!!!" bellowed a sponge commander.  Her lone cry spread
like ripples across a placid pond with a stone thrown it.  Moments later,
cries of "CHARGE!!!"  echoed throughout the valley, every spongin screaming
as the rushed forwards.
        The earth rumbled as 300,000 sponge minions charged across the valley
floor, their feet kicking up a miniture snow storm.  The spongin swarm surged
forwards, their uniform mass of lavender and magenta closing down on a thin
line of 20,000 TRES BattleArmored Marines.
         "Heads up everyone.  War time in t-minus 30 seconds," said CP, his
voice the same tone the troops heard in training exercises: calm, clipped,
and business like.  "Ten seconds, fire WRifles[tm] at 15 meters."
        Across the line of TRES Marines spanning the valley, large barreled,
odd looking rifles snapped into place, targetted in the charging horde.
Little servos whined audibly as the Jihaddi took aim.
        "Now," ordered CP, pulling the trigger on his WRifle-A[tm].  The air
filled with a hiss-snap-crack noise as thousands of metallic webs blossomed
to full size in flight and blurred towards the tide of magenta clad bodies.
        "Now," ordered CP, pulling the trigger of his WRifle-A[tm].  The air
filled with a hiss-snap-crack noise as thousands of metallic webs blossomed
to full size in flight and blurred towards their targets.
        The monomolecular edges of the webs met, or more accurately, diced
spongin flesh on contact.  Groups of spongin ran forwards, a metallic blur
passed through them, and then dozens of bleeding, steaming chunks of what
used to be their bodies  toppled forwards in the snow.
        All across the half mile wide canyon, where spongin managed to avoid
the spike filled pits, and other anti-personnel constructions, they quickly
met a flying web, only to fall apart a split second later.  The snow in front
of the TRES lines began to melt despite the cold, the literal tide of spongin
blood undoing the weather.
        "Retreat!!!" bellowed a spongin commander, the masses surging
backwards as the horror of the Jihaddi's weapon struck terror into their
hearts.  The TRES personnel, their WebRounds exhausted, utilized the under
carriage weapons of their WRifles[tm], lobbing grenades, burning jets of
gasoline, and large caliber shells at the fleeing minions.
        Sensing their deaths, some spongin stopped and returned fire.  The
sporadic bursts of M-16 rounds, plasma bolt, or grenade inflicted
inconsequential damage as well placed shots terminated their resistance.

...

        "This is not a good development," spake Wheri'El as he watched the
battle scene.  The first wave was intended to route the TRES forces.
Instead, his spongin were running across the valley floor screaming in
terror.
        [The Jihaddi are resourceful.  You underestimate them.] thought
X'huurrj'qx.
        "They are humans.  Pitiful and weak," snapped the Lyran, his contempt
for lower life forms showing.
        [It is your troops who have been routed.  Your observations are in
error.]  The Lyran spun around, hatred twisting his face as the cold,
reptilian eyes of the light grey robed X'hirjq locked on his.
        "*IF* they were LYRAN troops rather than humans we have changed for
our purposes," spat Wheri'El, "these humans would be dead."
        [But they are not.  Your brethren are not here to prove your
statement.  Marshal your forces and attend to the battle at hand.  Or is your
species too weak to have others fight for it?] asked  X'huurrj'qx as her claw
wrapped around the hilt of a serrated sword.
        "We will crush the Jihaddi!!" snapped the Lyran, his voice icy.
        [We await your actions.]
        "Nor will the Marked Ones known as CyberPyro and Cerberus escape our
forces.  Gharn'll, signal the S'moles; they are to attack immediately."

                                                                        CP

Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1996)