The Siege Against Tolkeen

"What the hell is that?" asked Perrin, pointing up to the gigantic pyramid. In the dim twilight, the crystals orbiting the structure were barely visible. With his dizzy, cloudy vision, Perrin couldn't make them out. But he definitely saw the enormous pyramid, and it filled him with dread.

"That's the High Council's pyramid," replied Tucson, as he helped the wounded pilot walk through the back alleys and side streets of Grand Alamar. "Apparently, there's some kind of spell on it. I've heard that it's supposed to be some kind of super-weapon. But if that was the case, they'd have used it long ago."

"Oh, crap," exclaimed Perrin loudly, very nearly falling to the grimy cobblestones. "I didn't see it from overhead. How the hell is that possible?"

"Illusion magics," said Tucson, with very little concern. "The entire city looks completely different from overhead. It's to prevent bombings."

"They're walking into a trap," gasped Perrin, as he slid into unconsciousness and crumpled into a heap on the ground.

Tucson grabbed him up, and carried him like a parent carrying a sleepy child to bed. C'mon, man, thought Tucson. Hang in long enough for me to get you to a Body Fixer. Don't die on me yet. You may follow that demon Prosek, but I still want to keep you alive.

Meanwhile, the voice of Emperor Prosek spoke from the speakers of a Death Bringer APC, clear and loud. He was giving a historic speech, a speech which officially launched the Minnesota campaign, and all the soldiers listened attentively, their minds totally focused on his words of encouragement and support.

"My fellow humans," he began. "In a matter of minutes you will be engaging one of the most fiendish enemies of the human race. The inhabitants of Tolkeen consort with demons. They sacrifice children. They twist our reality in horrible and obscene forms using their magics. This can not be tolerated. This will not be tolerated."

"Already our informants have told us that they are planning to engage in a campaign of expansion, which will sweep their demonic empire hundreds of miles across northern America. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of innocent humans, who wished nothing to do with the brutality of war, would be killed in this unholy and unethical attack. It is for those humans that we fight! We are the greatest protectors of the human race. We are the ones who stand against the annihilation of humanity! So, we must destroy Tolkeen. Its blasted ruins will be a monument to the stupidity, and the ultimate doom, of consorting with rifted horrors."

There was a slight pause in the emperor's speech, inserted for drama, before he resumed his speech. "Now, my generals have informed me that there is some talk of a magical super-weapon in Tolkeen. I assure you that this is not true! One of the Coalition's most skilled and loyal pilots, Jack Perrin, confirmed that there is no doomsday weapon, by undertaking a dangerous flight over the capital city of Tolkeen. Sadly, in this mission, he was shot down and killed. He died to ensure that you brave soldiers would be safe in your invasion. Please, make his sacrifice mean something."

"Now, it is time for action. When you battle, know that you are fighting for the safety of humanity. We are battling to show the magicians and their monsters that they are ultimately helpless against a strong and organized human race. Your actions will tell them to get off of our world, because there is no place for them here. I have never been prouder of the Coalition's military than I am at this moment. Go out, and do my words justice. And let the invasion begin."

The soldiers in the Death's Head Transport let out a great cheer, as the machine slowed, then stopped just outside of Tolkeen's borders. The men inside, sheathed in an assortment of Smiling Jack and Super SAMAS armor. Slowly, the great doors slid open, and the men leaped out. Their jets activated, and they fell into formation and soared off into battle.

Sergeant Donald Hartman led the Black Dog assault team, a group of ten of the best trained assault pilots in the Coalition States. They swept in low over the landscape, weapons ready for action. "Sensors show a cluster of bogeys up ahead!" announced Hartman to his men. "Ironman or People of the Sun?"

A multitude of opinions shot back over his radio, with the general consensus leading towards Ironman. "Ozzy it is," said Hartman gladly, and pushed a button on a small metal case which had been welded into his Super SAMAS. Most of the time, pre-Rifts music was forbidden, but Hartman had gotten special permission from his commanding officer.

Rock music blared from his armor's speakers, along with the rasping proclamation, "I...am...IRONMAN!!!" In a clearing below, the crew of a missile base heard the music, and began to scramble for cover. Before they could reach it, the Black Dog assault team soared overhead, weapons blazing.

Hartman swooped in low over the pillbox which served as the crew's temporary home, and unleashed a furious volley of micro-fusion mini-missiles. There was a slight clattering as the grenades hit the concrete roof and bounced or rolled around. Then, there was a roar of flame and the whistling of shrapnel as the pillbox exploded.

A couple of the men rushed over to their medium range missile battery, hoping that they could use the explosives to hold off the enemy. One of the Black Dogs came in from behind, and atomized the two men with a gout of flame from his plasma ejectors. Then, with another shot, he blew up their missiles.

An enemy soldier pulled a metal tube out from his utility belt, and threw it up at the SAMAS which destroyed the missiles. The thing hit the power armor, and stuck to it somehow. There was suddenly a strange, whistling noise, as the soldier frantically tried to pull the thing off. Suddenly, the tube exploded into a rift, twisting and warping space and time for the unfortunate SAMAS trooper. The power armor, and the man inside, were pulled apart in thousands of directions at once. The rift then collapsed, dragging the rubble into some alternate dimension. There wasn't even enough of the pilot left to bury.

Some of the other soldiers pulled out their sidearms or energy rifles, and began firing at the power armor troopers. Most of the guns were normal, but a few fired bolts of lightning or magical nets.

"Let's finish this, shall we?" asked Hartman, over the roar of his Ozzy Osbourne CD. "Cuisinart maneuvers, on four." The SAMAS troopers swooped in towards the ground, activating their vibroblades for combat. They then began swooping past the soldiers and slashing out with the blades. After a few passes of this, the enemy soldiers had been hacked to pieces.

"Good work today," said Hartman, pulling an impaled soldier off of his sword and turning off his CD players. "Now, we simply hold our position until we're relieved of duty." Suddenly, he was interrupted by a faint alarm inside his armor. "That might be tough, though," he sighed. "Since radar's tracking something big coming in. ETA of about three minutes."

"Do we take the fight to it?" one of the Black Dogs asked.

"Naw," said Hartman, shaking his head. "I'm thinking maybe a swoop and beat." The SAMAS troops, following orders, flew up about fifty feet, and prepared for battle.

Mere moments later, trees in the distance began falling, as if something was knocking them over. Whatever was coming was getting closer and closer...

It then burst into the clearing, weapons blazing. The thing looked like some horrific monster kept alive by foul magics. It was made of huge bones, from dozens of different creatures, pieced together by technology and magic, with the end result resembling the skeleton of a wingless dragon. Missile launchers graced its back, and there were twin lightning rods mounted on either side of the head.

The Black Dogs swooped in to greet their visitor, taking hits and giving them. One Super SAMAS took a direct blow to the head from a missile, and fell to the ground, the suit still functioning, but the pilot inside dead.

Four of the SAMAS pilots grasped the thing by its front legs when they came within range, and managed to flip it over onto its back. The bone tank lay there, frantically thrashing its bony legs and claws around, hoping to hit something, anything.

The Black Dogs hovered over its belly, and simply began dropping micro-fusion grenades from their forearms. Most of them slipped through the cracks in the bone armor. There was a great roar, and the monstrous war machine burst into flames.

The pilots landed by the blackened bones, and breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Like I said, people," said Hartman. "Good job today."

Flashes of magic, bursts of gunfire, and distant explosions sounded throughout the night, and all involved in the war knew that those sounds would continue for months to come. A Death's Head Transport flew overhead at one point, but was hit by dozens of bursts of unnatural lightning, and crashed into the forest. In the distance, huge force fields began to flicker on and off as they took hits from lasers and missiles. The siege had begun.

Next Chapter

By David Haendler.

Copyright © 1996, 1997, 1998 David Haendler. All Rights Reserved.