Chapter XVII

-250 meters under the ground, subway, Vth alley.
Darkness. There seemed to be nothing more but darkness in this part of the tunnels. There was a delicate smell of sewers floating in the air, bringing a pulled and disgusted face on the Confederate lieutenant’s face. Smoking a crippled smoke yellowed by the time, his eyes were hidden under his dark hair and his peaked cap. Some puffs of smoke dared to seek adventure out of his nostrils, but almost immediately vanished. The lieutenant’s eyes seemed to do an almost undetectable movement, a movement of eyes trying to seek something behind his long tufts of hair relaxing on his face… somewhere in the darkness. The lieutenant took his two fingers and crushed the cigarette’s brand with a swift gesture. His eyes reddened with tiredness and the lack of rest scanned the tunnel’s big mouth, and he saw some shadows walking towards his direction. Despite the lack of material and technological tools deserved to the elite soldiers and high-ranked officers or nobles, such as thermal detectors, the lieutenant and his men, like most of the soldiers in the Confederation of Trondforge’s army, had learned to use their brain and to succeed the greatest exploits with barely nothing as basic equipment. The lieutenant took his rifle on the ground, tapped on his fellow soldiers’ shoulders and ran towards the train station to warn his men.

After five minutes of running, the scouting crew that was with him gave silent orders to prepare the men. The lieutenant, positioning a machine-gun on a window, silently cursed between his teeth. A man positioned himself at the machine-gun post, and the lieutenant ran up dusty stairs to reach the train station’s second floor. He took some magazines in ammunition boxes, loaded his rifle and looked down the window. His men acted as if they had always been prepared to defend a train station… They did like they had learned in the training grounds, as if they were professionals. Indeed, these soldiers had a bit of experience, but a great man had formed them: their lieutenant. The men took their submachine-guns and their rifles, some guys who had more luck would take the heavy machine-guns. They entrenched themselves into the building, protecting the only way to their train. If they lost this strategic point, the Confederates would lose a major strategic point. Unfortunately, the High Command had lost interest in the subway, leaving it under-defended. It was just a matter of time before the Imperials discovered the who network of rails and stations. Now, it was their task to protect the train. There would be no retreat…

The men waited some long minutes, and they heard steps. The men waited, their hands shaking with the constant envy to shoot at the darkness to make the steps stop… but they needed to wait for the orders. The lieutenant’s average hair that were long enough to cover part of his eyes, fell down on the rifle’s sight. He aimed carefully at the shadows running everywhere in the darkness.
-“Charles…! Psst!” whispered a voice to the lieutenant.
-“What, Misha?” he answered with a hoarse voice.
-“They’ll swarm us… and slaughter us in no time…
-No, they won’t… not if we can use the train…”

The lieutenant Charles Everett had always been a practical man… and now he had to put what all his experience had given him in practise, and to show his worth. The dark shadows stopped to move, and he looked at his friend Misha, just posted at the window on his right. Misha nodded, scratched his brown beard, adjusted his sniper rifle’s sight, and he aimed carefully. He held back his respiration and pulled the trigger. A sudden and shrill snap broke the silence that had seemed so noisy lately. A shadow fell down, grinning and cursing. The shadows crouched and rapidly advanced forward with long steps. Lasers and bursts of bullets we propelled to the buildings composing the station. The lieutenant yelled: “HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE!” While, the Imperials were rushing at the buildings, the sound of their boots hammering the ground, the whistles of bullets and the cracks of lasers creating the beat of a battle raging. The Imperials reached the last twenty meters that separated them of the station, and Lieutenant Everett instantly decided that the enemy had gone far enough without seeing any real resistance. Red flashing lasers whistled over Everett’s head, he took his heavy KAR (“Kartoff Automatic Rifle”, some kind of two-handed heavy machine-gun similar to the prehistoric BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle)), leaned the gun’s butt against his chest, and shot. The gun spat fire and bullets pierced the air to drive into the falling bodies. Almost the whole Imperials’ first wave of attackers fell down, hit either by bullets or grenades. Suddenly, the attackers established a violent and efficient line of fire, bombarding the train station with everything they had.

A grenade exploded in the first floor, projecting bones, flesh and screams into the other rooms. Some Confederates screamed, a bullet stuck either somewhere around their head or right into their chest. Although, the Confederates violently replied with heavy machine-guns and anti-tank bazookas. The whole station became a storm of fire, bullets, smoke and dying soldiers. Suddenly, a terrifying scream succeeded to reach the Condeferates’ ears, a scream mightier than anything they had ever heard before. It was the scream of hundreds of men charging at them. Charles hastily reloaded his weapon, and shot other volleys. Some men fell, but with each man falling two more appeared. Charles yelled: “C’mon! GET TO THE TRAIN! TO THE TRAIN! FAST!”

What was left of Everett’s section was almost a third of his initial forces, as the Imperials were already storming the station with their bayonets, their submachine guns, their grenades… Lieutenant Everett ran downstairs and ran through a long corridor. He met some Imperials on his way, but he shot them down with his KAR. He turned a corner, followed by some survivors. He met other enemy soldiers… “They’re surrounding us! Damn!” he thought. He emptied his magazine on them, but the green-coated Imperials took cover behind crates. In the next seconds, the fate of Everett’s men would be decided… Everett put his gun on his backpack, took two pistols from his holsters and charged. His men were frozen with fear and dumbly looked at their leader. Everett shot with all his efforts to be the most precise possible. Two Imperials’ heads appeared in his sight, and two detonations reached Everett’s ears. Two other heads, two other detonations. The lieutenant climbed on the crates and emptied his magazines on the Imperials. When two “clicks” brought the furious lieutenant back to reality, meaning that his pistols were empty, he roared with laughter and his men followed him, cheering. The Confederates opened a nearby door and reached the other extremity of the train station. Few Condederates had made their way to the train, and they had laid a line of fire to shoot the Imperials that would reach the train. Everett saluted them and their courage, and hopped on the train’s ladder. He rang the horn as loud as he could, and the men jumped inside the wagon. When enough men had gathered inside, Everett began to augment the train’s power. More Imperials had come, and they were already shooting with bazookas at the train. A wagon exploded, but this wagon was empty. “Detach this wagon! We’ll leave them the rest of the train! Our lives are priority number one!” Charles said.

And the train was eaten by the darkness of the subway’s tunnel in the following seconds. The Imperials looked at the void, hearing the cheers of the Confederates that had been able to save their butt. Sergeant Mercutio appeared through the dark door of the station, looking at what was left of the wagons. He spat on the ground and Corporal Brandon came to see him: “We’ve found another train in this station… We’ll just have to attach the wagons to it, so we’ll be able to reach Kastor Line with all the men!”
Mercutio nodded and said: “Good work, guys… The battle was costly, but we’ve won! Cheers, men!”
Although, Mercutio seemed in distress behind his troubled eyes… looking at something in particular: Hans Braun, lying down on the ground, spitting blood and roaring. He was dying…
“I don’t know how or why, but I’ll make him live… no matter what happens!” thought Mercutio.
***

Shenk and his Lightning were speeding up through the aerial battlefield. Firing some precise volleys, Shenk was taking down an enemy bomber, tearing its wing apart. Shenk brutally tossed the control stick right, avoiding the wing part that had flown dangerously near his cockpit. A collision would mean inevitably death. Shenk saw another bomber to his right. He turned right and pulled the throttle to slow down the craft. The engines would overheat if he kept his speed to this point. The bomber’s turret turned towards Shenk’s Lightning and began to shoot. Several red lasers missed their target, but some hit the cockpit, creating some holes in the window. Halus turned back and yelled: “Shenk! Are you all right?” Shenk cursed loudly, tried to get rid of the oil on his face with his right hand, while the left hand was holding the control stick. The Lightning’s nose pointed down and the whole craft whirled on itself, its wings firing salvos of tracer bullets. The bomber was literally sprayed with bullets, but the structure seemed to hold together. Shenk looked annoyed as he accelerated towards the bomber’s right flank, shooting directly at the fuel tank. The bomber became trapped in a firestorm and the fireball went down, followed by melting debris and burned pieces of the wings.

The Lightning went up, and Halus, posted in his machine-gun turret, was looking at Rexdrakka 53… Soldiers were fighting everywhere, dying everywhere… there would lots of Imperial prisoners, this day.