Hyperion city: Front lines

The muted crack of gauss rifles filled the air as Pioter's squad advanced deeper and deeper into what had once been his city. Rubble filled the streets, bent rebar stuck out of chunks of shattered concrete. he peeked around the corner down what had once been main street the area looked just a little too clean, a little too clear...

"Ambush, take a look at the library, its sight lines are too clear. Someone's cleaned out the rubble." Pioter whispered over the tac net.

"Agreed, Frag em out." Ordered Chernov.

The two infantrymen nodded, Nathan slotted a grenade into his weapons underbarrel magnetic launcher and stepped out of cover for a moment before pulling the trigger.

The window into the library shattered for a moment, there was calm. A beetle threw themselves out the window, and Pioter shot them in the center of mass. Then the grenade went off. Every single window in the ancient building's first floor simultaneously blew out as the high explosive fragmentation grenade hurled razor sharp iron shards throughout the confines of the buildings first floor, Nathan fired again, pumping an incendiary grenade into the second story. The buildings fire alarms screamed as it began to slowly burn down, a lethal white fog spilling from its windows igniting everything it touched.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning." Nathan said chuckling.

"Those are white phosphorous grenades Nathan." Pioter chided, shaking his head slowly at his friend.

"Potato Patato." Nathan snorted, cracking a grin at Pioter, "what's a little smoke between friends?"

The fireteam continued onward towards the objective, the Hyperion city starport.

Hyperion City: Ruk Base camp

Groundmaster Lek Koz was scrambling to make sense of the situation, his troops had been dispersed into penny packets in order to hunt down the Human hit squads, It seemed that they had reacted by consolidating their forces and they were now making a concentrated push, effortlessly cutting straight through the units he had managed to intersperse between his encampment and the Human advance.

Fortunately for the groundmaster however it seemed that they had virtually nothing but foot infantry. It was time for him to give the Humans a nasty surprise of his own for once. He tapped an Icon on his command table and dragged it into an intercept position.

Hyperion city: The front lines

Major Stukov watched as the guard platoon flitted around the pillbox's line of fire and nodded with approval as a trooper took a knee, unslinging and expanding a weapon from his back and raising it up onto his shoulder. A moment later, the hastily constructed bunker's occupants were shredded as the concrete lining the bunker's interior shattered and was sent careening about the pillbox interior by the 140 millimetre HESH shell fired from the Privates Recoilless rifle. The weapon was swiftly collapsed back into its transport mode and the troops resumed their advance, the stop had barely cost them forty seconds, good timing to be sure, but they had to move faster.

"Double time!" Stukov roared, and to their credit his troops complied without hesitation.

Major Stukov's haste nearly cost him his life, instead it merely cost him an arm when the ambush hit the side of the infantry column. He had gestured for the platoon to begin spreading out, and a plasma bolt the size of a football blew off his arm from the elbow down.

The Major hit the dirt with a scream of rage and pain, the scent of charred meat beginning to fill his nostrils. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what had hit him, four quadrupedal combat walkers, each one had a duet of underslung heavy plasma guns, and a large bore weapon turret on its back that protruded ahead of its front, what he assumed was the war machines main gun.

Much to Major Stukov's releif his men didn't seem particularly impaired by his absence at all, rapidly dispersing as the machines secondary weaponry ripped into the men and women he had called his own for over four years now. They were the best he could make them, unlike in the ancient soviet union the Russian federation believed in training. Unfortunately he'd not had the best equipment, or an endless budget However Stukov had used every scrap of it he had to make his troops some of the best on the surface of the planet. That dedication, that determination, the elan, that he had painstakingly crafted into every single trooper under his command showed through now as squads drew fire from each of the machines as they covered for the recoilless rifle teams.

Stukov tried to turn his head in order to get a better veiw, but realized he couldn't. He was disappointed in himself, somehow, he found the strength to force himself up against a brick wall, slowly leaning back against the charred bricks as his vision dimmed for a moment from the effort.

Stukov watched as the rifles finally got into position, he was so proud of these men, proud of how they moved so seamlessly like a well oiled machine, of how they managed to drag the wounded back to a fallback point they had determined in seconds, of how they instinctively moved to just the right piece of cover or left just enough room and kept up just enough fire to let the recoilless rifle teams bring their weapons to bear. He felt a rough grip on the back of his armor's drag handle and he began to slide against his volition back towards the cover of an outcropping of rubble.

"Relax Major, we'll get you back to safety and patch you up, get you a blood infusion, slap on a medical stim pack and you'll be right as rain." The voice came from behind Stukov's head, its breath heavy but steady as they quickly dragged their burden backwards behind the outcropping.

Stukov recognized that voice, he'd chewed out that voice often enough to have memorized the name and face to match it.

"Popov, you idiot, you're the only Medical officer we have left! what are you doing coming out here yourself?!" The Major snapped.

"Keeping you alive to bitch at me more Major. Now stay still, I need to insert the IV." The Medical officer ordered his charge, "I don't need your wiggling making the needle slip." Stukov hissed in pain as he felt the needle punch through his skin before Captain Popov inserted the IV into his arm. "Now, stay still, and try not to move too much, your arm's a write off Major, I hope you weren't left handed."

"Popov-" Stukov began, only to be immidiately cut off by Popov.

"Major, we can talk later, now, I have patients to save." Popov replied before moving off. "Just rest, we'll need you later Major!"

Stukov sighed and shook his head, slowly he looked to his right, the recoiless rifle teams were only a few dozen meters away... at least he would get to watch them put their training into use.

The Recoilless rifle is an old weapon, dating back to the Second World war it works on a similar principal to most rocket launcher systems, with the exception that instead of a rocket engine it relies on a propellant charge to fire the shell, since some velocity is lost upon firing to help counteract the recoil, they often have an inferior range to a real cannon of similar scale.

Each of the two man recoilless rifle teams were equipped with a 140 millimetre variant of this weapons system, they were old second rate weapons, their ammunition considered insufficient against heavy armor, but they were light, cheap, simple to maintain and easy to use. In short they were perfect for colonial guard troops. However the most important thing about them here, was that there were a lot of them arrayed against each enemy combat walker. Stukov's spearhead was essentially an over strength company of light infantry, and he had liberally distributed out the heavy weapons and ammunition for the recoilless rifles. Thus instead of facing six teams of recoiless rifles, the walkers were facing twelve, and as a very famous Russian had once said, "Quantity is a quality all of its own."

Once again, the Russians guard troops proved this axiom true. One shell did nothing to the light assault walkers shields, two barely managed to break them and leave the crewman exposed, but the third struck the small crew cabin on the combat machine, blasting a hole in the control pod and smearing their pilot across the insides.

Stukov smiled for a moment as he struggled to his feet, pushing the medic away with a snarl before he picked up his pistol. He glared at the burning wreakage of the enemy walkers. "They took my arm," he said as he turned to look at Popov, "that was a mistake. They should have taken off my head."

"Major with all respect you need-" Popov began, only to be cut off by the Major

"to get moving again yes." Stukov said glaring at Popov.

This was not a cheap victory, twenty of Stukov's men had died, another ten were badly wounded. They had died for their Major, unquestioningly, throwing themselves into battle without hesitation or doubt. Those deaths were on Stukov and Stukov alone, they were his burden to bear, he would not let their deaths be in vain.

Hyperion city: Ruk base camp

"They brought down the Light armor detachment Groundmaser, apparently they brought some forms of anti-armor cannons with them and salvoed their fire in order to break through their shields and kill the walker's operators." The Groundmaster's aid reported. "they inflicted heavy damage upon the enemy's vanguard forces, but they're continuing their advance as we speak."

"Humans..." The groundmaster sighed. "I Hate these Humans... How long until the artillery is unpacked and set up?"

"one hour sir, getting out those light combat walkers put us behind schedule." The aid reported nervously, "I ordered their extraction expidited but... the logistics officers can't get them unpacked any faster..."

"damn it... how soon will the Human spearhead get here?" The Groundmaster asked idley.

"at their current pace sir, they will arrive in half an hour." The aid reported, "The groundleaders are slowing them as much as they can but..."

The Groundmaster shook his head, "I have had enough of their excuses, how many legionare's have we managed to consolidate ?"

"three cohorts worth Groundmaster." The aid reported, "they're two kilometers away from the enemy spearhead."

"that should be plenty... move them into position. If we hold them in place long enough then the artillery can destroy them."

Hyperion city: the front lines

Lieutenant James Allen, US Home guard was in over his head, and he knew it.

The platoon hr had command over had ranged ahead of the main spearhead in order to scout out an assault path. That was when they had ran into what appeared to be the enemies main force. They were then pinned down and encircled inside the crumbling office building that they were using as a holdout. Surrender the platoon had agreed from the start, was not an option. So now they were surrounded, outnumbered roughly thirty to one, and running low on ammunition. On the bright side reinforcements were closing in on their position. The steady rattle of the Corporals Medium machine gun was comforting to the Lieutenant as he set back to work, after all the beetles weren't exactly going to kill themselves right.?

"How fricking many of these things are there?" He asked as he switched from target to target, pouring fire into the wave after wave of oncoming beetle shock troops.

"Too Fucking many LT." Responded Sergeant Howards.

"The machine gun's starting to overheat sir," A nervous Corporal Kyle Wheeler reported from his position behind the squads M-7 medium machine gun "I didn't think they did that."

"Neither did I Corporal..." The Allen replied, "learn something new every day though, right?" he asked laughing nervously.

"Hope yall brought your mono knives," Howards yelled over the roaring acellerator rifle fire with a laugh "This looks like they might just have more bodies than we got ammo. It's gonna be a mighty big let down if I'm the only one who can fix bayonets!"

Hyperion city: Ruk Base camp

"sir, the human scouting party we surrounded is still alive" The aid meekly reported quietly as they approached the groundmaster.

"that's preposterous, we have them outnumbered fifty to one! why hasn't the regional legionary ground leader simply charged them?" The Groundmaster asked confused, "we can't just wound like that fester now can we?"

"sir the groundleader says that the casualties would be-" the aid began, only to be cut off halfway through.

"Hang the casualties!" the grounmaster roared, "I refuse to allow a blight like that on my flank INSIDE my lines. Drive them out, damn the cost."

"I shall convey your orders to the groundleader immediately Groundmaster." The Aid meekly replied.

"Do so. Immidiately." The groundmaster ordered.

Hyperion city: Hyperion city starport

"We'd better hurry, Major Stukov cannot sustain this level of casualties indefinitely..." Pioter murmured to himself under his breath.

"then shut up and push Pioter! I can't get this thing open on my own." Chernov barked.

"Yes Sergeant." Pioter replied, grabbing a hold of the door and throwing himself to the side, attempting to haul the crooked steel blast door to the side. It was only a few more inches and the soldiers could slip through...

"And when we get home," Panted Nathan as he shoved at the door, "drinks are all on me."

"I'll Hold you to that Nathan, now. One. Two. Three. PUSH!" Pioter roared as the three men shoved themselves into the door, which slowly, torturously, began to creep open.