'Incoming!'

The cry had barely rung through the air as the first whines resounded through the air, a split-second later followed by the heavy explosions of enemy artillery hitting home. Shell after shell slammed into the earth, ploughing through the dirt and mud in a slow and creeping barrage. The trenches were hit, entire concrete sections torn apart and disintegrated. And with them, entire squads of defenders, fearfully waiting for the onslaught to end. The seconds felt like hours as the shrieking torrent of shells kept on coming in, leaving virtually nothing untouched.

And then, as suddenly as the shells fell from the heavens silence returned, only punctured by the odd moan or scream of the pitiful wounded.

The few survivors that remained scurried from their boltholes and dugouts, trying to find a place to hunker behind and defend what was left of their line of defence. What few support weapons remained were set up again and sighted, though things were looking grim for the defenders. Their enemy had finally decided to go over the top. After months of raiding and harassing they finally did it.

A new series of dull thumps came from the side of the enemy. Men shouted for cover and dove away. Only the shells never hit their lines, they fell short, hitting no-man’s land instead. One brave defender peeked over the edge of what remained of his trench and called the others back. No, the enemy shells were not falling short, nor were they standard explosive shells. A thick grey fog was being thrown up by the enemy. A smoke screen. This was really it then, they were really coming.

The defenders prepared for the inevitable: their own deaths.

A low, constant rumble came from the artificial fogs of no-man's land. The defenders clutched their weapons a little tighter as the noise grew closer, a loud revving sound rumbling through the fog followed by dull thuds. The mines! They are going straight through the mines! With a little luck that would keep them away, or at least off their backs for a moment longer. More dull thuds came as the rumble grew louder and louder. The mines were not doing their jobs after all. Massively large dark and boxy shapes loomed through the smoke. Desperately the defenders opened fire.


Slow, monstrously huge, nigh on unstoppable. The first wave of attackers, all mounted in Gorgon super-heavy transports, made their way to the enemy lines. No obstacle could stop them, mines were useless and the enemy would by now be left dazed and half-dead.

High up from the ground, the two gunners checked their dual-stubbers, training their weapons at the thick smoke covering their advance. The driver of the massive transport effortlessly ran the armoured prow through a section of razor wire, crushing it underneath the heavy grinding tracks. Nothing could stop them now, no mines, no flimsy wires, no enemy guns. A coded message screeched across the vox net and the driver punched a rune on the instrument panel, the quad mortars on the side of the Gorgon thumping once, their payloads launched into the enemy lines.

'In range, fire at will,' the driver told his gunners. From the thick smoke up ahead tracers whipped through, a lonely stubber opening fire on the advancing monsters. If only they knew what was heading their way. The gunners opened fire, following the enemy tracers and stitching that area with their own fire. It didn't matter that they couldn't see their targets, they were just suppressing the enemy.

A missile screamed from the fog, impacting on the armoured prow of another one of the Gorgons, the steep angle deflecting the missile down into the mud where it exploded harmlessly. In reply the Gorgon’s driver gunned the engines and turned to face the source of the missile attack, slowly grinding towards the source. Calmly he ordered his gunners to operate the remotes. Scorching gouts of flame scoured the trenches, burning the defenders and their only means of attacking enemy tanks in a raging inferno. Like the others, the Gorgon had stopped a few scant meters short of the enemy trenches, its heavy engines idling as the gunners on the superstructure raked the enemy trenches with stubber fire. Then, they too stopped firing.

Nothing?

One by one the heavy armoured hatches of the Gorgons slammed open, revealing entire platoons hidden away in their holds. Faceless and bayonets fixed they advanced, screaming at the top of their lungs as they flooded out of their transports and into the enemy positions.

The killing had begun in the earnest.