Invasion

by
 Ralph Gibbs

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It started in the eastern sector of the city and spread like wildfire throughout the colony of Isengard. The insistent and ear piercing sounds of the air raid siren cut through the darkness of the night like a laser rifle through unarmored flesh.

Chuut'riit, the Quman governor of Isengard, jerked upright in bed. What the hell is going on, he thought to himself. Clearing his head, he quickly recognized the annoying blare as the air raid system. Tossing the covers off himself he grabbed his things, and was about to call out to his guard, when the door burst open and one of his advisors rushed in. "Sir," the advisor screamed in panic, "we're under attack!" "Who the hell by," he demanded. "We aren't at war with anyone. Is it those damn pirates?" "We don't think so sir." "Then who is attacking us?" he said as he began to dress. He began to feel as panicked as the advisor sounded, but quickly fought it down. Warfare scared the hell out of him, but whom didn't it scare. Besides, his advisor was panicking enough for the both of them. He walked over to his war chest and opened it. "Here, he said to his advisor, hoping the sound of his composed voice would calm his advisor down enough for a coherent report of the situation, help me into my armor and tell me what you know." The advisor began helping the governor armor up. "We don't know yet sir, the advisor said a little calmer. Their forces haven't actually started attacking yet. We got lucky. Some local kids were out beyond the colony doing some astronomy homework, when they observed a huge ship landing in sector 1-1 4j. By the description they gave of the ship, we believe it is a cargo carrier. They didn't see any markings on the ships so we're still not sure whom it is that is attacking."

"I wish you hadn't sounded the alarm, now they know we know they're here. Any element of surprise on both sides is gone. Oh well, I guess there is nothing to be done about it now. Are the forces deploying?" "Yes sir, the war leader is leading the armed forces as well as the militia to the east to intercept them." "Good, I want you to send a message to the war leader, tell him I'm coming to personally lead the battle." "But sir…," he began as he fastened the last clap on the governor's armor. "No buts, we're facing an unknown enemy with unknown capabilities and I'm sure the militia is close to panic. It will do them good to see that I'm not scared. My presence will calm them down so they can do what has to be done. Do we know numbers and disposition of the enemy forces?" "We know a little." "Good, you can brief me on the way to the front." "Yes sir, I'll tell the battle commander you are on your way." "Also, the governor began as he picked up his battle helmet, make sure he sends a contingent to the west. I don't want anything sneaking around behind us and attacking our rear." "Yes sir, I'll let him know." "One last thing he told his advisor as he was leaving to send the message. After this is over, I want those children brought to me. They deserve some sort of reward. They single handedly may have saved this entire colony." The advisor paused, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the door. Behind him the governor placed his battle helmet over his head turned it till it snapped into place, then slapped himself on the side of the helmet to test the seal. He didn't need to test the seal anymore, the newer Q-5 battle helmets were more advanced than the Q-4 and self-sealing, but once a habit started, it was hard to break. In front of him the advisor, now just a green and red silhouette turned to face him. As he did, a cross hair appeared centered on the advisor's chest and flashed -- aim here. He couldn't help but chuckle, yep, technology sure had changed since he was a child. "I'm sorry sir, but we won't be able to do that." "Why not", the emotionless soft metallic voice of the Q-5 echoed for the original. "They're dead," the advisor said, barely holding his anger is check. After a long pause, the metallic emotionless voice simply stated, "proceed." "After the children spotted the invading ship, they called the security building using a vid-phone. It seems one of the children's mother was a worrier so she sent a vid-phone with one of her two children. Once they reported what they had seen, security ordered them to return as quickly as possible, but they said they wanted a closer look and hung-up. Those damn kids, they had no idea the ship was filled with invaders, they just thought they were pirates splitting spoils and wanted a closer look. What they found was not in the least what they expected. Once they crested a hill, they called back. They were in a near panic. It seems the cargo carrier was making a 'second' delivery. There was already a base camp set up and according to the children between twenty to thirty thousand armored infantries and somewhere around three hundred or more tanks. They were told to leave immediately but they wanted to report on the second shipment. They only were able to tell us that aircraft were being off loaded, but not what type or how many. The security officer tells us that at that point he heard a scream and laser fire. Those damn children were unarmed sir and they killed them in cold blood" he nearly screamed. There was silence for several long moments. Chuut'riit lifted his head to the ceiling and the green and red silhouette of the advisor was replaced by a grayish haze and a read-out that flashed -- do not fire. Inside the Q-5 battle helmet, the governor voice was full of hatred and anger, but all that came out was a soft emotionless metallic voice that simply stated, "spread the word. I want every tank operator, grunt and militiamen to know what happened. I want their blood to boil when the attack finally comes. When this battle is over, my order still stands. I want those children bought to me." Outside, the long wailing suddenly became a series of shorter continuous blasts. "Looks like we wont have to wait. It's begun", the advisor whispered." "Good, I'm ready to kick a little invader ass, the metallic voice said sounding a little menacing despite the even flow of the voice modulator. And tell them to turn off that damn siren, we know there here."

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Whisper's #5 Son sat in the command chair outside his tent and looked down at the bodies. In the distance, Whisper's #5 Son, who was normally called W5 by troops under this command, could hear the distinct sounds of warfare. Aircraft were deployed and fighting for dominance of the sky, and aircraft from both sides were falling in large numbers from the air. W5 didn't care. He hated  the mindless machines. He didn't care if he lost them all. If he had his choice he wouldn't have bothered with them. Aircraft were not very versatile, they had two missions: the fighters cleared the skies of opposition, and the bombers cleared the ground. When the bombers were in action you positioned your men forward. The problem was, you couldn't position your troops to far forward or those damn machines would destroy them as well. However, as much as he hated them, he knew they were needed. Only an inferior commander didn't use all the tools at his disposal. He had read up on the previous conflicts of the last two years and studies showed colony governors had a preference for them. He suspected this colony was no different. The fact that there was a battle raging in the air above proved he was right. "Sir!" W5 looked up and absently studied this creature that stood saluting in front of him. It was one of the younger generation of demon infantry. This demon, like many of the newer generation's physical manifestation in this plane of existence, towered about seven feet. W5 figured the added height gave them a feeling of self superiority. About one third of his fathers seventy-six sons had adopted this manifestation. In addition to the height, their physical manifestation included shadowy, uneven features fitted to a creature mostly biped in nature. They also had a propensity toward wings, a tail that was barbed on the end and eyes that had a tendency to glow red. It was said that this manifestation made them look sinister. But it was said mostly by them. To W5 they just looked puffed up with self-importance. Some of this newer generation also chose to paint themselves in different design patterns and adorn themselves with outlandish ornaments in the most uncommon places. W5 often wondered if there wasn't some sort of unspoken contest to see who could find the most outlandish place to put the most ornaments. W5 often had to fight the urge to laugh whenever he ran across one of the newer generation. Himself, he preferred his diminutive five-and-a-half foot stature. Although most of the other physical attributes were the same, he hated the tail and wings, so he never adopted them, mostly because wings and a tail made it very uncomfortable to sit in a chair. He also preferred his violet eyes that did not glow in the dark. His only vice was his horns. They were several inches thick at the base starting just above his ears, curled forward, then ended in a sharp point about three inches in front of his face. The only draw back, was that he had to have his war helms custom made every time new technology battle armor was introduced. But he could live with that. He returned the demon's salute then brought his hand absently to his uneven face gently rubbing the tattoo of the number five that was etched on both sides of his face. The pain was long gone, but the habit of rubbing had lingered. He still couldn't believe his own father had ordered this. But he was a loyal son and obeyed his father without question. Even if it meant coming to this crap planet on this insane mission. "Report," he told the soldier. "Sir, the secondary battle commander sends good news. Our fighters are clearing the skies and the bombers are preparing for their runs. " "Good, tell him to start sending up the troops as soon as the bombers begin their runs. Once the bombers are recalled, I want the Pulsar Tanks to clear a path to Isengard's outer defenses, then bring up the other troops." "Yes Sir," the demon said as he saluted. Once W5 returned the salute the demon ran for the secondary battle commanders position to give him his new orders. After the demon left, W5 went back to looking at the bodies in front of him. Eight dead children lay at his feet. "Do you know what these are he said turning to his primary battle councilor." "Children, the councilor stated simply, nothing more then mere children." W5's estimation of the primary battle councilor abilities dimmed slightly at the answer. "Yes he whispered, mere children. Is the demon scout leader here?" "Yes sir." "Bring him forward." Another of his demons came forward stepped in front of the command chair and saluted. "Sir, demon T'aa reporting." W5 didn't bother to return the salute, but instead pointed at the dead children at his feet. "What are these," W5 asked? "Spies sir. We caught them up in the hills reporting on our position." "So you felt in necessary to kill them. You felt it necessary to kill eight unarmed children." "They are just children sir, not demons. We kill children all the time." "True, but normally it's when we are making a sacrifice to Foebius and not in cold blood. Let me explain what you have done. Something your small brain might comprehend. A very famous Battle-chief once said that when fighting an enemy, give them a way to retreat. A surrounded army with nowhere to retreat becomes a desperate one and a desperate army fights like ten to survive. That's what we're fighting today. We are fighting a desperate enemy. These Quman have no where to go. They will be desperate to survive. Now, you've given them an extra incentive, revenge. No doubt the colony governor if he is any sort of commander at all, is spreading the story of these children's death. Pointing the children once again he asked, what are these?" The demon said nothing. He didn't know what to say. "Go rejoin your command" W5 commanded. "Yes sir," the demon said, glad to be away from this unusual conversation. Turning to his primary battle councilor he said, "I want that demon's division to be the first to hit Isengard's defenses." "As you order sir," said the Primary battle councilor. "Primary battle councilor, W5 said, what are these he said yet again pointing to the children?" "Our defeat," the primary battle councilor stated. W5 decided not to have him replaced after all.

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"Seal the breach", the colony governor screamed as he continued to fire his laser rifle into the throng of demons trying to climb up the defenses. A pulsar tank had just punched a hole in a section of the colony defenses and demons were pouring through. If the breach were not sealed quickly and the demons pushed back the colony would be lost. It still baffled him as to why the Foelians were attacking. As far as he knew there had been no declaration of war. Next to him a Quman exploded after being hit by another pulsar tank discharge, splattering Chuut'riit's already blood covered body with more gore. Fighting had raged for nearly seven hours, but it seemed like months. His armor had long ago given out, and being too busy to remove it, bits and pieces hung about him in tatters. In the distance, he watched demons fall or vaporize and tanks explode while around him the same thing was happening to his forces. A demon's head crested the top of the defenses and Chuut'ritt pulled the trigger of his rifle but it failed to discharge. Damn, he swore, this had been his tenth laser rifle since the fighting began. He quickly looked around for a replacement, giving the demon time to crest the top of the defenses. Before Chuut'ritt could reach the replacement rifle, the demon rushed him. Chuut'ritt swung his rifle like a club and hit the tall demon in the gut, doubling him over. He then began bashing him repeated in the head smashing the demon's skull like a ceramic doll. "Here's your big stick you bastard", he screamed. A laser discharge from another demon's rifle slammed into his side, striking him in one of his remaining pieces of armor. The kinetic energy from the blast blew him from the wall to the ground thirty feet below knocking the air out of him. Fighting for breath, he spotted several demons running past him, nothing on their mind except the quest for the inner colony. One demon appeared in his forward field of vision towering above him, preparing to end his life. But before the demon could pull the trigger, he was thrown backwards from the discharge of a low energy laser pistol. Several hands reached down and lifted him to his feet. Chuut'riit took a moment to catch his breath, trusting to others to finish off the demon. Looking up he noticed that the breach still had not been closed and demons were still pouring through, albeit slower. Grabbing the closest Quman, he pulled him close. "Tell the battle commander to bring up the reserves." Without answering or saluting the Quman rushed off. "Let's seal that breach," he screamed to the more then a dozen Quman that were around him in a defensive circle. Forming a small wedge they rushed headlong into the throng of demons screaming their battle cry.

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W5 watched the battle below from atop of the nearest hill. "Magnificent", he said to himself. From where he stood, the effects of the battle sounded like a muffled thunderstorm with the added effects of fireworks. He watch ground equipment from both sides eject their deadly payloads one second, then disappear in fire and smoke or just vaporize completely the next. These Quman are worthy advisories he thought to himself, which is why he was still baffled at why they were being attacked. "What game do you play at father", he asked himself. "Why are we here?" "The war goes badly for us, his primary councilor stated." "Yes, these Quman fight like hell hounds. I give it another two hours at most. We are down to about thirty pulsar tanks and only an eighth of the infantry we came in with. The way they fight, it makes you wonder why we are here." The councilor's silence confirmed for him that he knew more then he was saying. "Councilor, bring a message to the primary battle commander. Tell him to concentrate the remaining pulsar tanks on the breach." The councilor paused for a moment, then struck out on his assigned mission. W5 watched him get about 100 yards from the primary battle commander's position before being blown apart by laser fire. "That'll teach the bastard to keep secrets from me. W5 pressed a button on his battle helmet, battle commander?" "Yes sir." "A breach has opened up to your left. Concentrate the remaining pulsar tanks at that juncture and attempt to open it further." "As you…" the rest of his sentence was cut short by a tank shell that blew his command vehicle into slag. W5 reached up and flipped another switch. "This is Whisper's number five son, code word diplo, concentrate your firepower on the breach that has opened up in grid Delta-3. " For the next several hours, W5 watched as the remaining infantry and pulsar tanks attempted to penetrate the breach without success. It seemed several times the battle swayed in different directions but eventually, the Quman colony prevailed eliminating the last pulsar tank and handful of infantry as they attempted to disengage from the fight. A silence now prevailed over the battlefield interrupted only by the occasional secondary explosion. Then just as suddenly as the battle was over, a cheer went up along the defensive battlements of the colony. W5 watched using the enhanced viewing screen within his battle helmet as Quman stood up, or dismounted from their fighting vehicle and raised whatever weapon they happened to be carrying at the time and let out a victory cheer. W5 pulled off his helmet, and walked back to the camp. He would have to report to his father, Blood Priest Whisper quickly, then hide before a recon was sent out and he was captured.

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"Sir, are you all right," someone beside him asked. As soon as the battle ended and the cheering had gone up, Chuut'riit sat on the ground right where he had stood and wept with his head between his knees. He wept unashamed for all the dead and dying Quman around him, and for those that would die during the next attack. He was certain there would be a next attack. After the tears had stopped flowing, he sat with his head between his knees and just enjoyed the act of breathing and the pain that came with it. All the scrapes, bruises and cracked bones that because of the adrenaline rush he had been able to ignore, exerted themselves demanding to be acknowledged. He was also sure that tomorrow, there would be even more sore areas demanding attention as well. But for now, he was alive and the pain proved it. "I'm alive he said hauling himself to his feet without the offered assistance. Any word from the Drell system." "Not yet someone said. Apparently, Blood priest Whisper is flooding the airwaves with a lot of nonsensical crap confusing everyone about the situation here. Half the systems aren't even aware the Foelians have attacked and those that are aware are to stunned to act." "I want everyone that can to go home and rest up for the rest of today and tomorrow, but after that I want you back and ready for another attack." "Sir, so you think they are coming again." "You can bet on it, Blood Priest Whisper wouldn't be flooding the airwaves with his load of crap if he weren't planning on trying again." "How long do we have someone asked?" "About seven days I wager. The next wave will come in about seven days and will probably be a lot stronger then this one. Today's attack will seem like a probing attack compared to the next one. " "We'll kick they're ass again sir", someone yelled in the background. And with that another round of cheering went through the colony. Chuut'riit, smiled, trying to put on a brave front before the gathering throng. However, secretly he knew, that unless aid came from the home colony or an ally before the next attack, they would be hard pressed to keep the colony from falling into Foelian hands.

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W5 went inside his command tent, grabbed a backpack with enough survival equipment to last until the next wave was dropped off, and his communications gear. Before leaving camp, he took a moment to change and update the security code for the ground fighters and ground bombers. Now, no one other then him could control the fighters." After about three hours, he found a small cave that could be easily hidden from outside observers. Once inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Throwing his backpack in the corner of the cavern, he grabbed a small antenna placed it at the mouth of the cave, then attempted to contact his father. After several seconds, the vid-screen flared to life and his fathers' face appeared. "How fares the war Number 5, Blood Priest Whisper asked?" "Not well father. The battle is over and other then a few ground fighters and bombers I am all that's left." "What do you require?" "Just pulsar tanks. The infantry didn't fare to well against the colony. The pulsar tanks seemed to fare a little better. I suggest a full load of pulsar tanks, delivered to coordinates 1-1 4j. With that said the screen went blank. Nothing to do now but wait." "Three days later, W5 heard the familiar sound of ship engines and popped his head out of his hiding place to see what the source was. After a couple of minutes, he was able to identify it as a Foelian cargo ship and went out to greet the incoming battle force. Once he was back in camp, he found it in a shambles. The Qumans had indeed paid a visit and unsuccessfully attempted to reprogram the aircraft. However, the only things missing from the camp were the bodies of the dead children. W5 once again sat in his command chair, however this time there were no primary battle councilors at his side. He actually preferred it that way, no one to second guess his battle strategy. In front of him stood eight pulsar tank commanders, one for every one hundred tanks involved. "So, he said to his tank commanders, any questions?" W5 had spent the last two hours with his tank commanders, going over the strategies from the last battle. What worked, what didn't, personnel observations he made during the last battle, and mistakes made by both sides. "Good, he continued, then let's get go over the strategy for tomorrow's strike. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll send in the fighters incase they've built or been supplied with any in the last week. The bombers will of course follow. Once the bombers have finished there run, I want first and third pulsar commanders to attack from the west. That means you'll have to position tonight." "Yes sir, they said in unison". "When you hit in the morning, W5 continued, I want you to hit hard. I want the Qumans to believe that is where we are going to concentrate our attack. Hopefully, the attack will draw most of their forces there leaving the real area of attack vulnerable. Fifth commander, you're also in on the ruse. After about an hour of battle, I want you to reinforce their attack. Hopefully, they will think you are a reserve force and all that's left of the attacking forces. The last time we attacked, they had the advantage. They were forewarned of our surprise, and they pretty much knew what we were attacking with. They also had the added element of revenge. But all that is gone now. Now we have the advantage. Revenge sustained them for the first battle, but it won't do them much good this time around." "About half-hour after fifth hits from the west, our main force consisting of second, fourth, sixth, seventh and eighth will hit from the east. No reserve force this time. When we hit, I want to hit with the force of a nuclear explosion. I want you to concentrate your fire in this area he said pointing to a map of the outer defenses of the colony. It was breached during the last attack and may still be weak. Once it's breached, pour through quickly. Any questions?" Again no one had questions. W5 wasn't sure how he felt about that. Hopefully it was because they understood the plan and agreed with it instead of being to afraid to offer suggestions. He knew that some Foelian commanders killed any one who questioned orders, but he was never one of those. A good battle leader listened to suggestions even if he didn't agree with them. You don't punish someone for trying to show intelligence. After waiting several moments to see if anyone worked up the nerve to ask a question or offer a suggestion, he dismissed them. W5 left the command chair and entered his tent. He would try to get some sleep before tomorrow's battle, but he knew the night would be a long one, and tomorrow would be even longer.

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Inside the colony Isengard, Chuut'riit paced the floor of his office. Tomorrow the attack would come. He felt it in his gut. Tomorrow would be the day, and he had no idea if the colony could hold off another attack like the last one. Yesterday he had finally been able to get a signal off to the home world and apprise them of the situation. They were mobilizing and organizing a relief effort but he didn't think they would arrive in time to help against tomorrow's battle. Hopefully, when supplies finally did arrive, the colony would still be under his control. Tuklot, his advisor entered his office. Chuut'riit, stopped pacing. Tuklot had changed a lot since last week. Before, he was always neat in appearance and manner. Now, he looked much older then this actual age and he always seemed to appear disheveled. It's as if the loss of his arm had taken his will to survive as well. "Anything," Chuut'riit asked? "No sir, the bloody bastards keep catching our scouts. We have no idea what there coming in with. But I can tell you one thing, whatever they're coming in with it will be soon. I'd say tomorrow at the latest." That was another thing Tuklot had taken up. He was starting to curse like a sailor. "I'm thinking the same thing. And because I think they will hit tomorrow morning, I want you to go to the west gate and take command." That should keep Tuklot out of harms way he thought to himself. Tuklot had given a lot in this conflict. There was no reason for him to give his life as well. Besides, he had grown fond of this old man and wanted him around a little longer. "What is this load of crap you're dishing out. Are you trying to keep an old man out of the fight? You and I both know Tuklot started, they are going to hit the east defenses again. They already punched a hole there once, they gotta figure that's the one week point in the defenses. And if they do, you're going to need every gun you've got." "Not necessarily, Chuut'riit lied. This commander is crafty. He may figure that into his battle plans and hit us where we are not expecting. And if so, I want someone there that can take charge." "Bloody hell, Tuklot spitted out, I still think you're trying to keep an old man out of the fight but it does make sense. all right, I'll report there in the morning." Chuut'riit breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone a little easier then he thought. "Good, that's settled. Now, since you're taking command you have to have a uniform worthy of a commander. Chuut'riit walked over to his war chest and reached for the lock. After fumbling with the latch for a couple of seconds he opened it revealing a new suit of battle armor. Tuklot looked at the battle armor and without saying a word he reached in the war chest cradled the armor in his arms and left.

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Tuklot ran back and forth along the west wall pausing just long enough to fire his laser rifle, yelling at the troops defending it. "Pour it on boys, pour it on. Don't let up. Give the bastards what for. Show em what we Qumans are made of." At first light, the fighters buzzed overhead followed closely by the bombers. Just after the last bomber departed the first pulsar tank crested the hill and attacked. Nearly two hundred pulsar tanks were in the first wave. Chuut'riit was ready to rush forces to his defense believing he was wrong about where the main thrust of the battle was going to take place. "No, Tuklot yelled in his radio when told of his decision, go with your first instinct. This is nothing compared to the last battle. We can hold here, you just be ready. " Chuut'riit was swayed against sending the relief force. His command instincts took over and he knew Tuklot was right. It still didn't ease his stomach much. Tuklot, paused in his running, shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted toward the horizon. Looking off in the distance, he noticed more dust. Looks like were going to have more company he yelled to his men. He was about to radio back to Chuut'riit and tell him another attack was inbound, but decided against it. This time there would be no talking him out of sending additional forces to defend the west wall, leaving the east wall under defended. Best to leave him in the dark on this. "Sir, one of his men said saluting as he ran up to him. The charges are set." Tuklot started to return his salute but no one was there to salute. The Quman's upper body had been blown from the lower half leaving nothing but blood and body parts. Tuklot didn't bother to comment he just squatted and fired waiting for the bastards to get closer. He had seen too much to be phased by the scene. To his right, he noticed a young child cowering in one corner of the battlement a laser rifle by his side. Boy, he screamed, what the hell are you doing here? When the child looked up Tuklot noticed he couldn't have been more then 16 turns. Teena'la was my friend. It took a moment for Tuklot to recognize the name, but Teena'la was one of the children killed by the Foelians when they were discovered spying on the Foelian's position. Well you can't very well avenge him if your not firing a weapon he yelled thrusting his laser rifle in the child hands. Fire, he ordered. The child continued to sit and stare blankly at him. Fire the damn weapon or I'll throw you off this battlement and let the Foelians eat your for dinner. After a brief second, the child pointed and fired. Slowly at first then with increasing fury. Good, Tuklot said. You keep firing and don't stop for anything. Turning away from the child Tuklot stood up and yelled to his troops, ok boys let get ready. It's time to give them our own surprise. With that said, troops began to poor from atop the battlements, taking up positions behind its protective wall. Tuklot jumped down and took a small box from someone's hands. Counting down from ten, he hit the switch. Small explosions, a hundred yards in each direction from him went off toppling the battlements creating a large dust screen obscuring the vision of both attacker and defender. Through the dust the sound of a battle cry could be heard, followed seconds latter by the sight of Quman, tanks and other offensive equipment emerging from the outer edge of the dust wall. The sight was enough to cause the pulsar tanks to pause in their tracks for just a moment. Sitting atop a section of the battlement still intact, the child continued to fire through the dust. He had no idea if he struck anything, and frankly didn't care. He just fired. When the dust began to settle enough to see the battlefield again, he wished it hadn't. What he saw was enough to give him nightmares for the next several years. Beyond the wall that other Quman were rapidly trying to re-erect, a fierce battle was taking place. As the child watched, the scene seemed to take a life of it's own and slow down to a crawl. Out there, force meet force in a horrendous and horrific clash. Tanks from both sides fired continuously trying to beat back the other force. Armored and unarmored Quman alike rushed up to enemy pulsar tanks firing laser weapons of various types at point blank range, then died by either enemy fire or by being caught in the explosion of the destroyed tank. Everyone killed was a nightmare unto itself. Some seemed to die for no apparent reason; they just slowly fell down and stopped breathing, their wounds to small to see. Some were run over by enemy tanks in its attempt to make the open battlements. The lucky ones exploded in a shower of blood and gore marking the spot where they had died. The unlucky ones simply vaporized leaving nothing to mark their existence but the memories of their loved ones. Hours later when the battle was over, a fog of smoke from the burning wrecks settled on the western battlefield obscuring the carnage. In the mists of the smoke the screams of the wounded and dying replaced that of laser fire. Later that evening atop one of the battlements, a lone Quman child was found clutching an empty laser rifle still pulling the trigger.

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At the western end of the city a concussive explosion caused Chuut'riit to instinctively duck. "What the hell was that? Chuut'riit asked as a large dust cloud arose from the western end of the city. However, before anyone could answer, a lone voice somewhere on the battlement screamed, "here they come!" Turning to look, Chuut'riit observed a large force baring down on his position. This was the main force all right. He had guessed correctly after all. At least five hundred pulsar tanks were coming in and coming in fast. Thank the Quman gods that Tuklot had made him stay his course. "Open up long range" he ordered. Behind him, the longer-range weapons began to fire. In the distance, dust plumes from misses and explosions from hits could easily be seen. The Foelian pulsar tanks also began to open up scoring misses and hits of there own. In just minutes the two forces closed and the battle began in earnest. One thing Chuut'riit noticed quickly was that although the equipment in the battle may have changed. The result was the same, death and carnage.

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Fall Back Chuut'riit yelled, fall back. We can't hold them back any longer. They're inside the perimeter. Fall back to secondary positions. All around him Qumans began to fall back. At first it was an organized retreat, but as the Foelian pulsar tanks advanced further inside the outside perimeter it became more of a panic until it finally became a rout. It was then that Chuut'riit heard for the first time the word surrender. The word seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time and confused everyone who heard it. But worse, until now he had never even considered it, now it was a viable option he was honestly contemplating. Not yet he thought, determined. Everyone get inside the city and scatter. Well fight them in the streets. We'll make them pay in blood for every block they take. For two days the battle raged inside the colony of Isengard. Shortly after moving into the streets of the colony, Chuut'riit had been knocked unconscious by flying debris and forces to retire from the field of battle. He began to direct battlefield operations from his former office, now considered command central. "all right, all right he yelled over the voices in his office. We'll surrender in the morning." For several hours he had been arguing with his aides on how the battle was progressing. The news wasn't good. Fighting was raging all over the city, the problem was communications were cut and no one was coordinating with anyone. Chuut'riit had no idea what the forces consisted of anymore on either side, but one thing was sure, Quman were dying everywhere and it was time to end it. He argued against it, vehemently at first, until he realized that the only reason he was arguing against it was because of revenge. He wanted to make the Foelians pay for the death of Tuklot. But now he had to put his petty revenge aside and do what he must for the good of the colony. "Send the word out to everyone you can that come morning we will surrender the colony."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

W5 watched the progression of the war from his mountain vantage. Below, smoke and fire could be seen from every corner of the colony. From this view, it looked as if the colony was being devastated and he was winning. However, he knew better. Even though they had broken through to the inner city, the war was not going well. He had lost three commanders at the outset of the battle against the west wall and lost an additional four commanders taking Isengrad's outer defenses. But once they had gotten inside the city itself, the battle had gone from bad to worse. At last report he was down to about twenty tanks. By morning he didn't expect to have those. Once again, he could feel victory slipping away. Once again he had to question why he was here. "Sir!" W5 turned to see a demon coming up behind him. The demon approached to within three feet, stopped and offered his salute. "Report," W5 stated returning the demons salute. "Sir, seventh tank commander sends greetings and offers apologies. He bids me to report that he is down to six tanks, and expects to meet Foebius within the next several hours. However, he has news that may salvage the situation. Interrogation of a Quman prisoner indicates that the Qumans plan to surrender first thing in the morning." W5 was stunned. His mind started calculating. How could he take advantage of this new development? Within seconds, he began to formulate a plan and a large mischievous smile began to crest his face. Beside him, the demon that for the past several days had survived two major tank battles, numerous skirmishes and not more then two hours ago survived his tank getting blown out from under him, started to get nervous.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From his office, Chuut'riit watched what he believed would be his last morning, settle on the colony. Beautiful he thought. He regretted that he had not taken the time to watch it more often. He doubted that after today he would ever see the sun rise on this world again. He would after today probably be some work slave at a Foelian. Or worse, used as a bargaining tool in some sort of political maneuvering between the home colony and Blood Priest Whisper. A knock at his door broke his contemplation. "Enter" he stated. "Governor, a vehicle is approaching. Spotters report a single demon on board." "Thank you," he said. It was time he said to himself. Oh well, so much for the beautiful day. In the distance, he could still here the occasional spattering of laser fire. Not everyone was happy about surrendering he thought smiling. Chuut'riit straightened his shirt, threw his shoulders back and proudly headed for the door leading outside. Stepping outside, two honor guards fell into step on either side of him and one step behind. Ten yards in front of him the demon waited. Before this war he would have been surprised by this demons tall stature, wings, barbed tail and red eyes. But he had seen enough demons in the last several weeks that nothing about them surprised him anymore. Around the city center a crowed had gathered to watch the procession. Chuut'riit and his honor guard stopped about three feet from this tall demon. "I am Governor Chuut'riit of the Quman colony Isengard, present your terms for surrender." "I am Blood Priest Whisper's Number 5 Son and I offer no terms. You and everyone in this colony will unconditionally submit to the will of Foebius and Blood Priest Whisper, or you, all who live here, and the colony will be utterly destroyed. You will come with me now. We have a ship waiting to take you to Bastion of Evil. "What about the rest of my people." W5 seemed to be puzzled at the question and took a moment before finally formulating a response. "The weak have no rights," he simply said. Just off to W5's right side a piercing screamed sliced the silence. He turned just in time to see a small body run into him, feel the blade of the knife penetrate his throat and watch his life's blood spill on the ground next to him. Chuut'riit, was stunned. In front of him a Quman screamed "dead, there all dead" continuously while plunging a large knife in what was now a lifeless husk. Oh hell, Chuut'riit, thought. Beside him, his honor guard finally acted. After they tackled the knife wielding Quman, he knelt next to the demon and confirmed what he already knew. The demon was dead. "Run, he yelled to the people gathering around. Find whatever cover and weapons you can and defend yourself, they'll be resuming the attack soon and there will be no quarter offered". Around him Quman began to scatter in every direction. Turning to the honor guard that held the Quman motionless he noticed that it was not an adult Quman, as he first believed, but a Quman child of not more than fifteen or sixteen turns. "Dead, they're all dead, the child whispered to no one. Dead, they're all dead he said again." Chuut'riit looked into the child's vacant eyes, "let him go he said, he's not going anywhere." The honor guard did as they were told. The child remained motionless only repeating the phrase "dead, they're all dead" over and over. "I recognize him, one of his honor guards said. They found him on the west wall a couple of day ago with a laser rifle in his hand. When they found him he was just staring out at the battlefield pulling the trigger. He'd probably been there for at least half a day before they found him. Chuut'riit frowned. What had a child been doing in that battle? The only Quman who could answer that, he thought, was standing in front of him with a faraway look in his eyes, and he wasn't up to answering questions just yet. "Take him to my office and lock him in my bedroom. We'll deal with him later." If there is a later, he said to himself. Heading to the nearest defensive position, he took the offered laser rifle and waited for the battle to come and finish them all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From atop his mountain vantage, Whisper's Number 5 Son removed his battle helm and threw it to the ground in disgust. Its enhanced optics had allowed him to watch the proceedings in the city without being seen. It seemed everything was going along fine. The sounds of fighting within the city only added to the ruse. His forces had long ago been destroyed, and W5 figured the fighting was nothing more then Qumans shooting at shadows. He had coaxed the demon that reported to him last night in everything he was to say. He had been ordered to say nothing more. Evidently he didn't follow that order, because whatever he had said angered that Quman greatly. Now the Quman were scattered awaiting an attack that wouldn't come. It would only be a matter of time before the Qumans realized they had been tricked and that the attacking force was no more. This mission has been ill conceived from the beginning, he said to himself in disgust. Foebius has definetly turned his back on this venture. Grabbing his communication equipment he began to make his way to the cave he had found the previous week hoping once more to avoid. Hopefully, he thought, when he calls Blood Priest Whisper is not in a foul mood.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I would pull you out, his father stated, however, I already sent in what I thought was going to be a holding force. Use it instead to attack the colony one final time. Since they were about to surrender, it should be enough to finish taking the colony." W5 was skeptical, but kept his silence. They should be there in about three days. What does this force consist of, W5 asked? I'm afraid it's nothing like the previous two waves. This only consists of about 150 pulsar tanks. But it should be enough. With that, the screen went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two days later, while W5 was making observations to he heard the familiar sounds of ship engines. Watching overhead expecting to see Foelian ships landing, he instead noticed these ships landing at Isengard. So much for victory he said out loud.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Inside the colony, Chuut'riit lifted his head to the sky, expecting to see Foelian ships landing just over the horizon, but instead watched ships from the home world landing with reinforcements. Now, he thought to himself, the next battle will go a lot differently.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The battle was short and explosive. W5 realizing that the battle was doomed from the beginning gave the arriving battle commander two options that would give him the best chances of success. Attack the breach in the eastern battlement or attack the western, where it was taken down in the last battle. The battle commander opted for the first choice and prepared his forces. In the mean time, having warned the commander of the reinforcements, W5 loaded into the arriving transport and departed for the home colony. He monitored the battle on the ship's sensors. As expected, the battle was short and explosive. The colony with its reinforcements easily handled the attacking force.