“Move lads, move. Get those sandbags piled now!” Terrance realised that she was shouting, her ears still ringing from the disastrous bombing run an hour before. Reinforced by a scratch company of crews from destroyed tanks, the shattered ranger platoon had taken advantage of a lull in the fighting to move their line forward, regaining lost ground and creating two defensive lines. Another scratch company had moved into their previous position, the incline of the hill giving them plenty of height to shoot over Terrance’s rangers.

She’d spread her surviving squad members amongst the members of the scratch company. Tankers were pretty much clueless when it came to digging in, and had only rudimentary infantry training. Regardless, every man and woman on Hill 400 knew that they had to fight, or die.

“Smif, get the twonks to move faster. We’re overdue an attack.” Smif waved in acknowledgement and shouted at the men and women working around him. None of them answered back, picking a fight with a ranger was not a bright thing to do.

Twenty minutes later, the ChinKor attacked their section of the line. Mortar bombs, shells and las beams sliced into their positions, forcing the infantry to duck down. As the fire shifted, the infantry popped up, opening fire with their pulse rifles, tanker carbines and hot shot pulseguns.

A wave of ChinKor, supported by walkers and armour was surging towards them up the steep slope, flashes from their pulsers and machine guns flickering along their lines, the bullets impacting around the ranger’s position.

“Monrow, this is Terrance, you guys busy?” Monrow was platoon sergeant and de facto commander of second platoon, who were dug in on a spur two hundred metres to their right.

“Negative, pressure’s been taken off. Need support?”

“Roger that, need your heavies to enfilade, they’re throwing everything they’ve got at us!”

Monrow’s reply came in the form of tracers and pulsers. The shock to the advancing ChinKor troops was visible as the relatively well-ordered lines of advance crowded together under the hail of fire that was now picking them off from the flank. Heavy machine gun grounds were punching through two, three, even four enemy troops in one go. Dead and wounded were strewn everywhere.

“Pour it on, pour it on!” Terrance popped over hercover, snapping off a burst of pulse fire before popping back down to reload. Monrow’s enfilading fire was taking a heavy toll on the rear ranks of the attacking ChinKor, effectively cutting the attack into two, taking the pressure off Terrance’s rangers and allowing them to deal with smaller lead elements.

"Ranger five, this is Avenger 1-1311. We are inbound, four mikes from target, please mark."

Terrance fumbled a power cell as the voice rang out in her ear, her mouth turning suddenly dry. Shit not again, not again!

*****

Kingsley repeated his call, "Ranger five, this is Avenger 1-1311. We are inbound, four mikes from target, please mark." Nothing but white noise greeted him. He grimaced as he saw the pressure that Ranger Five’s position was under, wave after wave of ChinKor charging up the steep incline, a huge crater slap-bang in the middle of their position, a gaping reminder of Schwarz’s arrogance.

No wonder they’re not bloody replying, poor bastards are probably shitting themselves.

He had just opened his mouth to repeat his call when Ranger Five’s voice came over the comms. “Avenger 1-311, this is Ranger Five. Popping smoke now. If any of you miss again, I’ll kill every single bastard one of you. Out.”

Kingsley keyed his comms, “You heard the woman. Make sure you hit the damned target, or it’ll be your throat that gets slit next. Get ready people!”

*****

Kingsley stared aghast at Hill 400 as it filled his HDD. It was less of a hill and more of a small mountain, thrusting out of the ancient glacial plain surrounding it. Roughly five killometres long, the upper half was completely denuded. Trenches and hastily built bunkers ringed it in concentric circles, the ECAF forces surrounded on all sides by the enemy.

Explosions constantly rippled across the besieged positions and he lost count of the number of enemy armoured vehicles that were surging past wrecks from a previous attack.

"Kingsley to all planes. Pick your own targets. Aim for heavies at the front of the attack. Let's help the poor fuckers stay alive."

He flicked the HDD from gun cam back to radar. Nosing down he went into a shallow dive, scanning the ground for a suitable target. He realised that he was spilt for choice, the whole hill was target rich.

A flash of red caught his eye and his dive steepened as he locked on to a light battle tank. Flicking a switch he selected his missile pods.

Tracer and the trails of anti-aircraft missiles started to arc up through the air from the ground as the ChinKor realised that they were under attack from his planes.

"Missiles away!" He fired a ripple of eight rockets, waiting until they were at least ten metres clear of his jet before pulling up,

"Is it a kill?" he asked Richards, his gunner.

Richard's whoop of joy was answer enough. Kingsley levelled off and started another dive, having only lost a couple of thousand feet in his last one.

A gaggle of battlebots caught his eye next. They were advancing bunched up, the blasted terrain and wrecks forcing them into a bottleneck.

He selected the wing bombs, sending a squirt of shells from the Avenger. The heavy shells streaked through the air and he gave a whoop of his own as he saw gouts of earth turn into sparking explosions as the shells blasted into the battle bots. Grimacing, he thumbed the bomb release.

Pulling out of the dive he grunted as g forces kicked in. "Hit!" Richerd's excited voice came over the comms, "four, no five confirmed kills! Good shooting boss!"

Kingsley smiled as he listened to the excited chatter from the other pilots. All of them were claiming kills, but he had learned to take such things with a pinch of salt, knowing that pilots tended to exaggerate. Still, looking forward to seeing the gun camera films.

*****

Terrance stared in open wonder at the damage the dive bombers were dishing out. One of them streaked overhead, its heavy under-slung gun roaring and sending a muzzle blast more than ten feet out. The heavy shells turned a battle bot into nothing more than two upright legs and shredded metal faster than she could blink.

she had nearly pissed her pants when she first heard the banshee scream of the jets overhead, memories of the injuries her friends had suffered during the last attack flooding her brain. Just as last time she had taken cover, only this time she had been screaming in fear, expecting another carelessly dropped bomb to vaporise her and her people.

Now though, she screamed in delight as another banshee opened fire and the heavy rounds threw mud, limbs and great chunks of metal through the air, punching through the armour on the ChinKor APCit had targeted.

Enemy soldiers fell from the wreck, screaming as burning fuel showered them from a punctured fuel tank. "Let them burn lads! Let them burn!" she stood grinning as the latest enemy attack on their position faltered, stalled and then began to retreat. Hill 400 still stood.