JUNIPER'S DAUGHTER - FRONTIER TOWN PT3

Witch Interferes

 

   The English army attack was fierce when it came, hitting the outskirts of Renford and the Frontier Corps building with wicked ferocity. Later in the fight the witch Juniper’s Daughter would join battle with the English army, an old enemy she neither feared nor respected. Cris’s mission was worth the cost of his comrade, for the information he brought back was priceless but not enough to stop any attack, preparedness was enough. Would the army be stopped? Weeks had passed since the intelligence mission into enemy territory, in that time much had been achieved and lots happened but only a select few knew the results.

   The first English army attack came after a few days, it was a hasty affair and almost an act of desperation to show the army wasn’t defenceless and able to act. It came from the east on the ground down the main highway and roads routing out of the occupied areas, three English army Armoured Personnel Carriers sped full speed down the old unused badly maintained roads. Each was carrying twelve fully armed troops with the tools of their trade, loaded weapons with the intent to use them in revenge for the assault against them. If they could destroy the stolen English army transport craft and kill most of the Frontier Corps, then their mission would be successful making the main attack even easier; this was just a probe. The army was undetected until it came into the border areas of Renford into the outskirts; Frontier Corps guards were caught napping and by surprise. The army almost got away with it but a speedy reaction and vicious battle stopped them. Confusion reigned on the number of the force, on where it had come from and on its mission aim; this could be the final attack or just a probing attack testing the defences.

   They should have been ready for it, they were complacent even after Cris’s life or death mission and heads would roll later but first this attack had to be stopped. The first Armoured Personnel Carrier rushed up to a Frontier Corps barricade that blocking the road, six miles east of town; at full speed it rushed the roadblock leaving the other two vehicles parked out of small arms range to observe the results. Accelerating to fifty miles an hour, top speed, it zoomed down the middle of the pot holed single lane road smashing an old abandoned car out of the way like it wasn’t there. A main cannon mounted in the turret of the APC fired in short bursts, sending high explosive shells onto the roadblock exploding at two old battered small lorries used as a mobile barricade. Several shells exploded on the road sending shrapnel flying puncturing tyres, shredding vehicle bodywork and holing a diesel tank. More shells hit the left side lorry setting it on fire; the leaking fuel caught fire forcing the two Corps guards to back away from the roadblock firing their machine pistols inaccurately as they did so.

   Almost on top of the barricade the APC increased speed, not slowly, it stopped firing moments before ramming into the obstruction in a colossal boom. The blazing lorry flew into pieces under the impact from the heavily armoured military vehicle at speed; the right side lorry was flung violently onto its side, damaged but not on fire. The terrified guards ran and hid behind a wall, one fired more accurately this time as the APC roared through their almost toy like barricade defeating the roadblock, his fire sparked off the front armour, not piercing the tough hull but distracting the driver. The second guard radioed a frantic call for assistance that the much-vaunted English army attack was here, right now, that they were under attack!

   Swerving involuntarily, the APC arced to the right at top speed going out of control, if his speed was a fraction slower he could have corrected and saved his vehicle and men from a wicked crash but it was not to be. With the unstoppable momentum the vehicle started its death roll flipping over due to its high centre of gravity, rolling over six times shedding parts and wheels like confetti. Anyone left alive would have a stunning headache! The remaining vehicles slowly drove another hundred metres down the road but stopped, waiting for the Corps guards next move; it was a tactical error, for they should have covered their crashed comrades.

   In the wrecked vehicle, which rested askew on its side, wounded soldiers struggled amongst the bodies of killed comrades to escape themselves from the smashed APC. A side hatch opened, for the back armoured door was twisted out of alignment, men climbed out onto the hull coming into line of site of one of the Frontier Corps guards.

   Through his gun site he counted to three, took a deep breath and held it, then squeezed the trigger firing single shots at each individual man who popped into view. He got two for certain and may have wounded another, reducing their numbers significantly. No return fire came back. No more men climbed out of the side hatch, they must be using one in the vehicle underside which faced away from the guard and there was nothing he could do now to get at them except put down nuisance fire to keep their heads down behind the APC. His comrade gave a live radio update to his comrades back at base and again requested reinforcements, it was a shame the two guards had no anti tank weapons, an oversight that could cost them dearly. Small arms were no match for armour, who made the decision to send men out to forward positions with no heavy weapons? Heads would roll later if anyone were left alive. Fuck! The other two APCs slowly advanced to the wrecked vehicle to rescue their stranded colleagues, more frantic radio calls for reinforcements armed with heavy weapons and situation updates updating home base of the almost critical situation were sent. Reinforcements with grenade launchers would be ten minutes away by then it might be too late!

   The first overturned vehicle started to burn now, a fuel line must have been severed and black smoke billowed from the crash. The other vehicles used this to aid their slow advance on the two Corps soldiers who hid behind a wall, white smoke from smoke screen launchers further hid the vehicles that drove forwards at ten miles an hour. Soldiers had dismounted to follow behind the bullet proof APCs for safety, over 25 men in all. Showing excellent discipline, not a shot was wasted by them both Corps men, they fired single nuisance shots to keep up a futile defence. Suddenly both vehicles let rip with their turret mounted automatic cannons, lobbing big fat cannon shells against the wall, demolishing whole sections in seconds. Smoke, dust and fragments flew everywhere making both guards run like hell to save their own lives. Their position was overrun in seconds. Where to run? Back down the road to town was suicide, in the line of fire from the APCs whose guns had a two-mile range. How about splitting up? But it would mean one APC and soldiers chasing one man, hunting him down till he was exhausted and killing him, one at a time. It would take the attack away from the town that was the answer. How about calling fire down from Ernie the Worm’s 40mm gun on his train? It was worth a try; they’d split up and try to break up this attack.

   A rushed but clearly precise radio call went through. A single Frontier Corps man was stationed with Ernie, he liaised by radio with his command and soon wild and inaccurate fire fell in the guards’ general direction, closer to the two guards than the two APCs! Five 40mm high explosive Bofors shells fell on open ground, kicking up earth and grass but doing no harm to the enemy transports, only distracting them.

   Now! Both guards ran in separate directions, hoping to draw the Armoured Personnel Carriers away from the main road leading into Renford. The ruse didn’t work for the army second-guessed it, sending three soldiers after each of the Corps guards. The main attack element the APCs continued slowly down the road. Now it was fewer soldiers to do less damage.

   Ernie still fired several wild shells from his train many miles away at extreme range to scare the soldiers. A better system of calling down fire was needed to take out such targets as moving enemy vehicles; there just wasn’t the time to work this out now though. His shells would only kill an APC if it was a direct hit, a near miss would damage it. It was an excellent skill calling down artillery fire from several miles distant, even harder making the first rounds hit with the maximum violence and surprise, no one was skilled in that esoteric art and there wasn’t time to train anyone before the shells were fired in combat. Ernie the Worm and his single plain clothes Frontier Corps man had to learn as and when the situations developed, they did okay considering the two guards who radioed for assistance were on the limits of extreme range for the 40mm type weapon Ernie had mounted on the back of his train. If the Kahlia Akasha project came to fruition a version could be used to control distant artillery fire from the gun to far off targets, all of this was for the future, if the army didn’t take the town. If only Ernie could bracket the enemy APCs on the road he would wipe them out, the advantage of that was beyond words. It was fortunate that the English army hadn’t brought any heavy howitzers to fire back at Ernie and his small cannon. He would be obliterated along with his train, gun and track.

   Both APCs increased speed, leaving some soldiers to chase down both Frontier Corps guards and kill them, the way was open to Renford now. Soldiers jogged at fifteen miles an hour behind each vehicle to give support if anyone attacked them; it was easier to defeat snipers and antitank teams with dismounted soldiers than it was with being holed up in the vehicles. Turret cannons were only so good; they had a limited field of view and good firepower. Would the English army be stopped on this road to town?

   The next roadblock four miles out of town and two miles from the defeated one, manned by three men from the Corps armed with a heavy machine gun and machine pistols. Coming up to it, the APCs sped forward at high speed leaving their troops to follow up; both vehicles opened fire with their automatic cannons at the old cars parked across the road. Small explosions danced across them and the road, off to the left the guard with the machine gun returned fire in short bursts saving his ammo. Two other guards hid in the long grass at the roadside, held fire not giving their position away. A car burned slowly, the lead APC steamrolled into the cars blocking the road shoving one out of the way and driving over the one on fire in a clatter of noise and confusion. In seconds it was over the obstruction pulling up to wait for the second APC and following troops.

   Sporadic machine gun fire came from the single guard who changed position to a small group of trees. He sprayed the APCs and roadblock alike. One APC swung its turret around in an effort to locate the gunner; it didn’t spot him easily. The soldiers jogged up the road, while the second APC drove off road in order to flush out the gunner, who now changed targets latching onto the troops out in the open; his fire danced down the road landing at their feet and amongst them, wounding two men and killing one outright. Was it good tactics dismounting the armoured vehicles? That would be discussed later; soldiers left the road in some confusion and a few returned wild shots to keep their morale up. They cheered as one APC finally send cannon fire into the trees cutting down branches and leaves in a shower of shrapnel and explosions, silencing the nuisance machine gunner. He did his job hitting the soldiers who were a soft target and distracting one Armoured Personnel Carrier that became bogged down in the soft ground; its six wheel drive spun in the mud digging it deeper. Exhaust smoke mingled in the air mixing with the black smoke from the burning car, the armoured car revved its engine trying to extricate itself from its predicament. When full power didn’t work the driver went to low revs, forwards and backwards in an effort to free the APC that was in mud up to its axles. If it couldn’t free itself it would need towing free by the other vehicle making an easy target for the alerted defences of Renford.

   Soldiers remained in the grass by both sides of the road watching the scene; two men radioed through their situation back to HQ in the occupied area, one soldier spoke to the APC on the road by short range radio. What to do stay put or join the vehicles?

   Both Corps guards who hid only yards from the soldiers decided for them. The men stood up from their well-hidden position and opened fire with their sub machine guns on full auto, each guard targeted a group of soldiers. This action cost them their lives, neither had time to reload their thirty-five round magazines but they added more death and destruction to the small battle scene. From the left group of soldiers two men were killed and one wounded, their right side group had six wounded and one death, further depleting their numbers. Both guards were gunned down dead by the English army; they paid for their bravery with their lives and couldn’t even radio their base on an update. That didn’t matter for the gunfire would be faintly heard at the next road block two miles away and just a couple of miles from town. The battle of depletion was slowly being won; the next obstruction had more guards, guns and a nasty surprise if the APCs got that far.

   Precious time was wasted towing the stranded APC out of the mud; the driver got a real bollocking from HQ for he had a mission to do of huge importance. Finally free, the troops checked the trees, fields and area for further Frontier Corps guards. When none were found they embarked into the APCs and headed down the road for the next road block. It was decided to fire from five hundred yards with the automatic cannons to kill any guards and burn their roadblock. The scene was set for another confrontation; this fact was noted by a blond woman watching from the trees off to the right. She wondered when she would have to step in, before or after the next fire fight. English army troops walked right past the witch and never even saw her.

   At the third roadblock two miles out from Renford, six Frontier Corps guards guarded the strategic position, armed with six machine pistols, two machine guns and most important of all, four antitank rocket launchers. Nothing on the ground would get past this position; the other roadblocks had been like a sponge absorbing the army attacks, whittling away their numbers until they entered the real killing grounds. Confidence flowed through the men who heard the gunfire from the second roadblock two miles away, they’d avenge the death of their comrades from that site and those of the first position who were almost certainly also dead. Barrelling down the road two distant dots came into view – English army APCs! 

   “Get ready lads this is it, enemy targets coming into view, range estimated nine hundred yards. Ready the anti tank launchers, only fire when I give the order!” ordered the lead Corps guard. Frantic activity flowed around him as his men took up position readying weapons; one checked the range with his binoculars.

   “I concur, range passing nine hundred and thirty yards and decreasing, estimate enemy speed thirty plus MPH. Target strength looks like two large APC type vehicles,” commented the alert man whose eyes never left the English army vehicles.

   “Give them hell lads, make every rocket count. Start your rocket fire at six hundred yards, just under maximum effective range. Use half your rocket stockpile but not all of them. We don’t know if this is a probe or the main attack. I think it’s just a probe due to the small vehicle numbers,” the boss ordered the rocketeers, before continuing to the machine gunners, “open fire at three hundred yards with the two machine guns, only fire short well aimed bursts to keep them in their vehicles. The rockets will kill the vehicles and troops without us having to mop up the troops if they disembark.”

   “Yes Sir!” the troopers bellowed together knowing the importance of their situation, yes we can do this and stop our enemy, the marauding English army.

   The first rocket sped forth in a whoosh of grey smoke and yellow flame as the two Armoured Personnel Carriers came past six hundred yards. The rocket covered the long distance with agonising slowness, in seconds another followed the first. And a third whistled forth down the road onto the targets, the fourth was a misfire and never left the launcher. Rapidly the antitank gunner removed the defective rocket and threw it as far as he could in front of him, so it wouldn’t explode and kill or maim him and his comrades; he inserted another rocket, hastily took aim and fired the last rocket in the first volley. Already the first rocket had exploded but did it hit the target? Smoke coiled up obscuring the view, another orange flash and flying debris arced up and down, from what? One rocket went haywire curving into the clear blue sky like an expensive firework off target, it flew for over a thousand yards before the rocket engine burnt out and the warhead self destructed harmlessly.

   Looking through his binoculars the leader tried to make out if both enemy APCs had been killed, he switched to infrared but smoke impeded his view. He made out a fire of some kind. Something was burning, hopefully one or both armoured vehicles! He shouted an order, “Antitank men reload and fire again, fire into the smoke on the road. I know you can’t see through the smoke but I pick up something burning in the smoke. Reload and fire another salvo of four rockets, then reload again and hold fire. We’ll need to see the outcome of our defence.”

   The four antitank men reloaded and fired again, acting quickly following their training for full efficiency and lethality. In seconds reloading was done, the first rocket zoomed forth down the road into the smoke, followed by three more in a staccato of launches. Orange explosions burst out of the smoke and more debris and flames added to the mess, suddenly one armoured vehicle emerged from the smoke! It was still in one piece after two separate rocket volleys, where was the other? It must be burning thus giving off the smoke and flame, this one was the danger! On the right side a small fire flickered leaving a trail of black smoke, a rocket hit the vehicle fired blind but didn’t knock it out. The crew would want payback! Increasing speed now the APC came to five hundred yards; it was the sole remaining offensive English army vehicle left intact now. Small flashes appeared on the turret as the 30mm gun opened fire down the road onto the Frontier Corps positions, sending explosive shells down range at a kilometre a second, covering the distance in one half second. Seeing the vehicle fire the leader ordered, “Get a fuckin’ move on! Fire that third volley and kill that bastard or we’ve had it!”

   Swearing and curses came from the guards whose discipline almost broke down under the assault, big fat cannon shells exploding around and amongst them, while just two antitank rockets hit back in return. Screams and moans indicated men had been wounded, blood ran on the road and grass where others had died. Another burst would finish them! Why had only two rockets been fired? The Corps leader ran to check throwing his binos onto the grass; he looked down at a scene from hell. His team of men were dead or wounded. Glancing down the road expecting another heavy burst of shells coming down on him killing him, the leader grimaced and prepared to die. But what he saw made him smile! One rocket had hit the APC right on the nose and it had stopped in the middle of the road, burning like a torch, totally engulfed in flames. There may still be men nearby or in the smoke from the other hit vehicle that needed killing; the enemy needed killing but it would be good to get a prisoner for interrogation. Looking round he desperately tried to find some of his men to lead, to go hunting down the last of the soldiers. Were any of his men not hit? Oh hell please let them be, he prayed because the advantage was theirs. They could still lose if enough enemies were alive and armed.

   Out of six men only two were uninjured, the leader and a rocketeer. A machine gunner was slightly wounded by shrapnel, only these were battle ready. Gathering his men in a prompt briefing, the Corps leader ordered an immediate attack to advance on both burning vehicles to kill any survivors or wounded. Capture of a prisoner for Intel was also priority. In battle soldiers could do unpredictable things, especially after seeing their comrades killed or if surprised by the enemy. Grabbing machine pistols and a single machine gun, the three men ran down the road with safety catches off and weapons aimed at the burning vehicle several hundred metres ahead. The leader ordered his men to do ten-metre spacing so a single burst of gunfire hopefully wouldn’t kill them all, no return fire came back but they had to be vigilant. Coming to the burning vehicle they were aware of exploding small arms ammunition in the hull and the larger detonations of thirty-milli ammo in the turret cannon, nobody would survive that. Telling his two troopers to cover him, he advanced alone onto the blazing vehicle, keeping as low as possible in case of a full explosion. Slowly he moved forwards gun at the ready full auto selected for no surprises. Walking around the perimeter of the bonfire that contained over ten men, the leader saw two blackened smouldering bodies thrown clear of the APC; one was the turret gunner and the other a soldier. The remaining crew and soldiers had perished in their vehicle when the single rocket had thundered through the twenty-millimetre thick hull armour. These antitank rockets would stop a tank with a single hit at the right place; this APC was like butter to a white-hot knife.

   Signalling his two remaining men the leader jogged further down the road into the first battle area where the other APC burned merrily away. Here they found a wounded man who had been blown clear when his vehicle was hit; covering him with the machine gun while the leader slowly advanced upon the wounded man was a tense time. Flames crackled away, smoke reefed up into the blue sky and bullets popped like firecrackers in the heat, as they looked at the barely alive man. A quick visual inventory of his injuries showed their enemy wouldn’t survive for more than a few minutes and he couldn’t be moved; his uniform had been blown clean off him uncovering flesh that was bloody, bruised and blackened. His penis was cut in two, one testicle was missing from his scrotum, three fingers were missing from one hand, grit from the road was blasted under his skin on one side, his lower jaw was exposed and a gurgling sound came from his throat – collapsed airway. He wouldn’t be able to talk to answer questions nor did he have any secret documents on him like plans or maps.

   The Frontier Corps leader decided the casualty would be finished off there and then, he ordered his men to form a firing line next to him and fire on full auto at the dying man. Revenge was best served cold. Gunfire echoed down the road and over the fields, empty shell cases rattled onto the tarmac and a man died. Did it matter that he was the enemy? The English army attack had been stopped, what if the next was even bigger? What about the six English army soldiers who were ordered to hunt down the two Corps men from the earlier roadblock? In the heat of battle nobody knew but they were presumed killed or captured by the soldiers who had chased them down, maybe in time answers would be forthcoming. For now lessons were learned about the army and the tactics they had used and that had failed them. Had the small attack been meant to fail or was it a test of the defences before the main sledgehammer descended onto Renford, courtesy of the English army? The clock ticked down and even stronger defences were prepared to try and halt the inevitable, this time the Frontier Corps had won but what of next time? How do you stop a whole army coming your way, about to do violence and intent on winning?

 

   From the trees the witch saw the first series of engagements with the English army, saw the large bulky Armoured Personnel Carriers advancing down the road, the exchanges of gunfire, the explosions and fire and above all, she felt the release of souls from their mortal coil. Felt the violent unleashing of the souls from the physical body by extreme violence making the Devil happy due to acts of war and aggression, filling Hell with English army soldier’s souls. Of course Frontier Corps guards’ souls went to heaven because they’re the good guys or so it was in their own eyes, not that they believed in an outlawed Nazarene bastard God. If he existed, would there be death and war like this descending over the land like a black veil, totally unconquerable and extremely vicious and wicked in its outcome.

   Juniper’s Daughter knew that two fleeing Corps guards remained alive, being pursued by six English army soldiers; this was a critical situation for cold-blooded murder was about to take place. She had to act now or more would be killed, this was one little event the witch would be able to control in favour of the light, defeating darkness and her mortal enemy, the Devil. Several miles separated the witch from the eight men; she had to get there quick but how? Time to use her time displacement trick and jump there, before you can say the Devil is queer.

   Undercover of the trees Juniper’s Daughter rummaged in her animal skin coat pocket producing a triangle shaped crystal, a faint glow came from far inside. Closing her eyes the witch did two things, first she said a secret incantation to help let the slain souls pass over to the light, away from Hell but she had to be quick. She knew the Devil was near and trying to claim a percentage of them, the purest evil ones would be his but those who only carried out evil deeds for him were not beyond help. Eyes shut she spoke, “By my own power of myself and of our Great Goddess of Mother Nature I invoke thee to do my bidding and instructions. Heal the wounded souls who have died in battle, save the righteous ones let them pass over into the light away from evil, darkness and the Devil. For this will be my small victory against him and his dark forces that work against all I stand for and believe in. Set them free, set them free, send them to the light! So mote it be!”

   A violet light shot into the sky over the witch through the leafy tree canopy without a sound. Distant almost clear dots of brilliant light quickly ascended up into the blue sky and were gone. Only the witch could see these, other darker lights descended into the bowels of the earth, to Hell. More went up than down, she had won this time!

   Shifting her weight and bending her cramped legs the witch opened her eyes, shaking her head to clear her vision she did the second action. More almost silent whispered words came forth and she seemed to fade then disappear, in a rapidly disorientating move the witch was whisked onto the rough field over which the first group of soldiers ran, pursuing a single Frontier Corps guard. She’d have to deal with this first and send her magic energy to stop the other soldiers remotely; she could only be in two places at once in her flying saucer or in a Spitfire. Her saucer was parked up out of sight and she was out of Spitfires.

    Opening her eyes and breathing deeply, she quickly shook at the disorientation from the time space jump. Juniper’s Daughter stood on a patch of overgrown ground; to her left a single exhausted figure ran and stumbled over a tussock of grass. He swore as he fell forwards onto the springy overgrown grass, he was done in and made no attempt to get up. Two English army soldiers stood triumphantly over him with machine pistols at the ready, one roughly shouted, “We have you now Frontier Corps scum. You killed our comrade, for that crime you will die but not before you tell us your military secrets!”

   “We’ll count to five!” announced the second soldier, gun at the ready. The Corps guard remained silent. Neither aggressor nor victim saw the witch; she raised her hands and clapped them together loudly producing a noise like Freya that whooshed over the two soldiers flinging them to the ground. Heavy decibels pounded their eardrums and a blast of wind forced them down taking them completely by surprise.

   “Enough! Stop your silly little games right now!” screamed the witch suddenly becoming visible, so the soldiers could see who was now amongst them. One tried to raise his gun but the witch anticipated this and kicked out, sending the weapon flying from the soldier’s hands before he could fire.

   “Who the fuck are you?” the terrified soldier asked, looking at his gun and then back at the witch, sizing up if he could reach his weapon and kill her before she struck again.

   “Don’t even think about it. I’m Juniper’s Daughter; I’m a witch and a healer. My job is to stop your killing and murder, even if it means becoming a fighter and killing you. The choice is yours, live or die,” stated Juniper’s Daughter saying it as it was.

   “You’re that mad bitch who destroyed our Isle of Man base and took our missiles in the flying saucer! You fuckin’ cow!” gasped the second soldier in total surprise.

   “No way, is it her?” asked his comrade looking away from the witch with wide eyes.

   “Yes it’s her. We have to radio base! This witch has to be killed or captured. Get your gun, wound her, quick now!” the first soldier spoke, reaching for his compact radio to tell HQ what was happening. His comrade reached for his gun to wound the witch. When she struck it was with preternatural speed and vicious skill, almost quicker than the human eye could follow. Not a word was exchanged through the radio nor a shot fired by the stubborn soldier who wanted his gun. The radio lay in several bits on the floor, its operator had a broken arm; the machine pistol was broken clean in two, as was the soldier’s arm.

   “I told you not to do it and what did you do? You didn’t listen to me. There’s more where that came from if you don’t behave! I won’t give you anymore chances, the next time I’ll kill you with my own bare hands!” shrieked the red faced witch who towered over the cowering soldiers who gave up the fight, totally outclassed by the unarmed girl. She looked at the Frontier Corps man who was a yard away from the soldiers. He gained his breath and quietly said, “Lady I don’t know who you are but you saved my life! Thank you, thank you!”

   “That’s okay my friend. I’m just doing my job. Now please return to your colleagues and tell them you came across Juniper’s Daughter. Tell them I’m going to help you stop the English army attack when it comes, these men are from a probe,” the witch told the guard. He nodded and got up to leave, he ran over the rough ground without looking back, he even left his empty gun behind. Juniper’s Daughter had saved his life.

   Now what to do with the two soldiers? Would they go quietly or would she have to kill them? No, she would send them back to their own lines, they were perfect witnesses to what was to come, their story wouldn’t be believed at first but word would spread that the witch was back. English army High Command remembered the raid on their secret island base, its destruction and the theft of the nuclear missiles some time back. There would be trouble and huge problems now that the witch was back.  She ordered the two scared and slightly injured soldiers to go back to their own lines leaving their guns behind. They struggled to stand and quickly walked away, looking over their shoulders at the stationery figure who never took her eyes off them till they were out of sight; now to deal with the other trio of soldiers.

   A spell was the order of the day to use on the group of soldiers hunting down the remaining Corps guard. Using her wand that was festooned with crystals to direct her magic, Juniper’s Daughter spoke aloud in a foreign tongue using words that were from a language dead three thousand years. Secret potent dangerous words of unknown meaning and sound to a mere mortal human, no one was about to witness or stop the witch. Her power was total and one hundred percent, swirling energies wafted her blond hair blowing it and swaying the grass in four directions at once. The crystal mounted atop her wand glowed from within, several colours at once of supreme power.

   Pointing her wand where she estimated the other soldiers to be the witch spoke in English. “I now command you to stop pursuing the fleeing man you seek to harm. Drop your weapons and do no more harm or I will send karma to do to you what you wish upon the innocents. If you do not stop now you will know my wrath and my justice will be done, this I command. So mote it be!”

   Holding her magic wand aloft Juniper’s Daughter pointed her wand in the direction of the unseen soldiers and closed her eyes, in a deep animal voice she roared, “Stop your evil actions. NOW! By my power I send my magic to stop you!”

   Nothing happened at first but then the blue sky suddenly turned grey and forbidding, quicker than thought dark rain clouds appeared turning almost black laden with moisture that would soon blanket the fields and surrounding area. Her wand glowed violent bright orange beams of light and energy shot up towards the sky, a wind blew from nowhere but everywhere rapidly increasing in speed. Then the rain fell; curtains of it visible over the landscape where the enemy soldiers were. Only a light rain fell where the witch was but she felt the wind, a wind of her own making that blew at eighty miles an hour – gale force knocking the soldiers to the ground. Trying to rise they were blown back down such was the force of the wind as rain took away their vision blinding them and stinging their skin soaking them in seconds. One soldier was in a slight depression on the grass this filled with water threatening to drown him. He sensed this and tried to crawl out to safety but the grass was too slippery, too wet for him to move he was like a fish out of water, a human in water about to drown. His two comrades looked on frozen in terror unable or unwilling to help their colleague. Water came to the edge of the ditch the stranded soldier occupied covering his chest and shoulders, taking in a deep breath he knew it was his last. Going under he didn’t reappear while the water level was now level with the rough grass, bubbles broke surface but the dead soldier was visible no more.

   The single Corps guard looked on with horror his mind ablaze with disbelief; how could the weather change just like that? From a warm summers day with clear blue skies to a wicked winter down pour of surreal proportions? Was this Devil’s work or some other strange power? If it were the Devil surely he’d be dead? Unless he wanted my soul in exchange thought the man who was getting wet but he wasn’t blown over like the soldiers, what was that? In fact he was able to walk quite normally in the slight breeze? What the fuck? He’d just witnessed the soldiers blown over, one caught in a ditch who drowned. This is mad; I’ve got to get back to base! I hope my mate is okay he thought fleeing the scene at break neck speed not looking back. When he had ran three hundred yards out of sight the soldiers were able to move and stand up, shaking themselves down. Both were pissed wet through, cautiously they walked to the edge of the small ditch looking for their comrade but couldn’t see him for he must be under the water stuck on the bottom. Turning heel both men fled the scene not wanting to know why their pursuit of the enemy the Frontier Corps guard was terminated when it was just as they were about to capture and kill him. This wind and rain wasn’t normal, it must be some other strange power but what? How come the rain is slowing now and the clouds are clearing, turning blue again? Crazy thought both men while they ran in the direction of their HQ many miles distant. Little did they know their three comrades were only a few miles away struggling to get back into English army occupied territory with a tale of make believe – Juniper’s Daughter was back!

 

   Juniper’s Daughter was annoyed with herself coz a single enemy soldier had died and his soul was stolen by the Devil, he had drowned in the bitter storm the witch had sent to save the guard from murder by the soldiers. She sighed, such was the nature of her work, she couldn’t be one hundred percent successful all of the time but at least she had saved the innocent man from death. Watching the clouds disappear the witch slowly faded from view, here her job was done for now.

 

   Two Corps guards made it back to their base in town, the ones who had the encounter with the witch. Several other guards were okay and had returned but many more were injured or killed, a price to pay for stopping powerful armoured vehicles and well-trained soldiers with good weapons. News of Juniper’s Daughter returning soon spread through the Frontier Corps ranks and into the town like wild fire, was it a good or bad omen? If she was back it showed how dangerous present times had become. It had been a crazy and violent day; lessons from battle had been learnt, as had the danger, efficiency and also drawbacks of the English army. Back at their base similar lessons were being absorbed, the next attack would be much more violent and even if the witch helped, it might not be stopped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nuclear Bullets

 

   A derelict farmhouse stood out on the moor like a broken skull from a dead person, unwanted and forsaken but not unnoticed. This old ruined building would serve a purpose in the next attack on Renford, evil minds had been plotting and soldiers were waiting. Not long until the tumbledown walls were totally flattened, for a new weapon was in the offering, one that showed no mercy and total lethality – it was a nuclear bullet.

   Moss and lichen coloured the old stonework giving an air of dilapidation where once a young couple lived well past middle age. Now they were dead and almost forgotten but not totally, under the ruins were a cellar and in that damp dark space lived the dead couple’s only offspring. It remembered its parents with fondness and sadness, the English army remembered the couple too but for different reasons. The deceased couple had caused much materiel loss to the army and it wanted to get even, after all this time. Killing their off spring and wrecking what was left of their house was a perfect plan, revenge was best served after fifty years of waiting. John and Sarah’s last legacy would literally go up in smoke; their child and house would cease to exist, just like they did now.

   Unseen things happened, a single English army transport arced round in a tight turn at maximum speed and the pilot knew his game, for he flew his craft to the limits. The dozen men in the back held on for dear life while the craft followed the attack curve at seven plus g’s and several hundred miles an hour. Cutting the throttle he let the ship continue its natural arc towards the ground. Unheard and unseen from the dwellings cellar where something slept in a deep dreamless sleep. Soon they’d be here, unwelcome visitors intent on doing it harm and violence. The wickedness of man in the oldest war in history would wake it up, a continuation of one more battle in the nature of things.

   Troops struggled against the grip of gravity and orders were given, the single middle size Devil Snail attack unit powered up, ready to be unhooked from the safety fasteners when the craft landed and the g-force ceased. With engines ticking over the transport pulled up its snub like guinea pig nose flaring in for a landing, inside safety catches were released and soldiers got pumped up on adrenaline. In their full body armour, complete with respirators for protection from what radiation lingered in the area, they looked menacing in the extreme. Nothing nice would come from this visit, only death and violence. Engine off so the blue glow from the exhaust and sound of the engine wouldn’t give their presence away, the transport mingled with the late evening haze and fog that hung over the valley. A side door opened and twelve soldiers quickly emerged with machine pistols and sniper rifles at the ready, the Devil Snail followed them, less cautious of the danger. In twos the soldiers hurried away from the craft, all but two who guarded their transport home.

   Coming to the old farm cottage a search began of it and the derelict out buildings to find their quarry – Sarah and John’s bastard offspring. Did radiation poisoning affect it while it lived alone here for over fifty years, twenty plus years after the death of its parents by radiation poisoning from the nuked city down in the valley? Their graves were unmarked in the field where the English army transport had landed, their old enemies had returned to carry out a mission. Later a new weapon system had to be tested on the old buildings to kill the offspring outright if the troops failed in their job of flushing it out, time would tell. Hushed orders were given and troops ran into each building; the barn was clear with nothing but old rusty equipment, tools inside and a dirty jeep, which had half the collapsed roof resting on it. Two smaller shed like structures were almost in ruins, these held nothing but the house was a different matter. Three stout stonewalls still stood but one had fallen in on itself, as had the roof and upper floor, only the underground cellar remained. Into this were thrown several flash bang stun grenades to subdue whatever was inside, they went off in dull thuds that the soldiers felt through the floor. An officer barked orders to a squad of four men, telling them to go down into the cellar to bring their target prisoner out alive if possible. Nodding to show they understood the NBC clad soldiers descended into the earth, an image of insects descending into their lair or hunters on the prowl for prey. A single open door invited you down a narrow dark stairway to the musty smelling cellar; the soldiers used small infrared lenses in their respirators for vision. Other men guarded upstairs, alert for any activity or attack from people unknown, this was a danger because English occupied lines were fifteen miles to the east but surprise was on their side.

   Suddenly screams and loud noises came up the black stairs, the soldiers had found something! An unsilenced burst of machine gun fire echoed over the property from below, what was going on? Their weapons were silenced, had the thing below fought back? A single flash bang grenade went off followed by more screams and an animal guttural roar that made the officer’s hair stand up under his protective suit, what the fuck was it? He quickly ordered two more men to head down to see what was happening, time was ticking on and they should have gone now with their captive without any casualties. That plan was fucked. Silence fell as both soldiers crept below; guns ready and safety catches off, no stun grenades this time it was shoot to kill. Seconds plodded on, the officer told two more men to get ready if the previous two didn’t return. He tried to radio down but the signal was cut off by being underground, communication should have been possible due to the open door in the earth, their radios would have to be checked when they got back to base. More shouting and screams were faintly heard, distant sounds of a struggle and a single gunshot followed by footsteps pounding their way up the old steep stairs. The officer aimed his gun ready for their target escaping; it was a soldier, one of the last two who had been sent down after four had disappeared. The man’s respirator was missing, his protective suit was torn and his face was bloodied; he made a bolt for the open land, terrified by events underground but his officer guessed this and tripped him up by a well placed foot.

   Standing over the sprawled men he put a single heavy boot upon his chest to keep him still, this didn’t stop him moving. A single bullet next to his head did from his silenced machine pistol. Bending low over him the officer watched the wounded bareheaded man with interest, claw type marks covered his face and one eye was hanging out by its optic nerve. Blood dripped down the soldiers face and from other unseen wounds, no bones were broken or he would be immobile.

   “Soldier! Soldier, what happened down there? Where are the other men? The five other men where are they? Did you see what did this? Tell me!” bellowed the officer, his voice flat under his gas mask.

   “It was… it was a monster. A monster! I’ve never seen anything like it!” timidly replied the scared soldier. How quickly he had changed from a trained killer to a trembling boy.

   “Was it our target? Was it? What did it look like?” from the impatient red eyed officer.

   “Yes it was our target. It was huge, so strong. I saw it rip my comrade in two with its bare hands! In two I tell you!” muttered the panicked man.

   “I’m having none of this! Where’s your weapon? Tell me!” screamed the crazy officer. He was having none of this! None of it.

   “I left it down in the cellar!”

   “Get up! Get up and go and get your weapon! Do it now!”

   “No, no I won’t! I want my mummy. Where’s my mummy!” cried the stricken soldier.

   “I’m your mummy you little cock sucker! Maybe I can persuade you,” commented the officer. A boot slammed into his body armour jolting him but not injuring him, another kick brought groans. Yet another brought action! Slowly getting up, the soldier looked like a zombie covered in blood with one eye hanging out of its socket on four inches of optic nerve! The officer’s machine pistol tracked the soldier ready to cut him down if he tried to run again, the gun twitched indicating to the cellar and a violent death. Without further ado the soldier descended the same stairs again, ready to face what he had barely escaped from minutes before. Thirty seconds later the screams started, the officer followed the young injured man down and witnessed what killed the soldier and his colleagues. The officer wanted to run and preserve his own life but he brought up his weapon and fired ten rounds into the lower area of what he saw, to bring it down and not kill it. He desperately wanted to capture the monster that lived in this dark cellar for decades, finishing off by throwing a single flash bang grenade and two gas grenades. He backed up the stairs not turning his back. The creature slowly crawled towards him through the gloom, over the blood soaked floor and body parts that were once English army soldiers, the smoke grenades reduced visibility to zero. It was okay the gas would knock an elephant out. Safely up the stairs the shaken officer talked to his men while covering the open doorway. He ordered one of the men to close the door best he could so the gas remained underground and had an affect on the thing below, Sarah’s bastard child. Four men hurried to do so but the door was rotten and wouldn’t close properly, they formed a barrier with their bodies, for the thing from below must surely come to claim them. Their numbers were down by half and another attack would surely be like the first; time for a change of tactics!

   “When that thing comes upstairs make an effort to stop it coming through the door. Bainbridge go out of the back door, Smith out of the front, James into what’s left of the front room and Sykes stay here in the kitchen. Myself I’ll be in the back yard monitoring the situation. I already hit it in the legs and it maybe wounded from my grenade. That cunt has the strength of ten men and can take bullet hits. We still want it alive; if it means using some of you as bate, so be it! Get ready! Here it comes!” ordered the officer to his scared men.

   A scraping dragging sound came up the stairs followed by little thumps, the wounded thing slowly advanced up the stairs from its subterranean home. It was almost there! Bang, bang! It thumped against the door to open it jolting the four soldiers who rejoined their efforts to hold the door, another time and the door gave popping off its old worn hinges and landed on one of the soldiers who fell to the ground with the door landing on top of him. The other three ran to their position: Bainbridge out of back, Smith out front, Sykes remained in the kitchen and James… James was under the door! He tried to roll sideways from underneath the door but the monster ignored the other men and leapt onto the flimsy dirty door with all its might. Blood from its leg and a dozen other wounds caused by the grenade explosion, mixed with blood from the slain soldiers and sprayed everywhere. Thud, thud, thud, thud, on the door till it broke and followed the shape of the trapped soldier, his plywood death shroud. Thud, thud, thud the monster bounced up and down, crushing the man who screamed loud and hard; this made the monster scream too! Even louder and longer as he jumped up and down like a crazed automation, killing the man till he was squashed flat dead a red pulped bloody mass of gore and flesh that was no longer Private James, a functioning soldier in the English army. When it had killed James the monster turned its attention to Sykes who was following orders remaining in the kitchen as bate. The plan was falling apart, James was meant to have run to the front room giving a possible route for the monster to follow. James had served his purpose.

   What was Sykes now meant to do now? He yelled, “Captain, Captain! The monster is here! It just killed James; he never made it to the front room. What do I do Sir?”

   “Why son, you die!” came the reply, not from the officer but the monster! Hellfire this thing could talk! It advanced towards Sykes, who raised his gun ready to fire and kill this abomination but that wasn’t the plan; it was to catch the thing alive if possible. Shit! I’ll pop it in the legs, thought Sykes lowering his gun. He saw the bullet holes and seeping blood from where the monster had earlier been shot, still it could walk! Here goes…

   “No don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” screamed the Captain rushing into the kitchen. He threw a grenade in front of the monster and Private Sykes, whose eyes widened in disbelief before the bomb went off, blowing the monster back down the stairs in a tremendous roar of sound and animal like screams and cutting Sykes into four large bits. Both of his legs were separate, twitching a nerve-ending dance of death on the blood covered the dirty floor; one arm was useless on the floor and the trunk of his body, the largest bit, slowly died. His eyes had been blown out by the blast, his eardrums perforated and his lungs shredded, giving the soldier mere seconds to live even as he bled to death. The monster was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. The officer stood up from the side of the room where the blast had blown him. Rushing out he went to the transport to fetch some equipment. On his remote control he ordered the Devil Snail attack unit to enter the house and guard the comatose monster, which must surely wake up soon in an even worse mood.

   Returning with some heavy knock out gas more potent than the one used before, this would knock the fucker out for a week. Uncoiling the hose and throwing it down the dark stairs, the officer turned the small pump on while ordering the remainder of his men well out of range, for their respirators were no use against the noxious gas. Blue vapour filled the house, flowing down the stairs to the cellar and the monster that was just waking up from the grenade concussion.

   It roared but fell immediately asleep while the gas entered its lungs. Deep in its pea sized brain it knew what was happening. Its parents had told it of what happened to its mother when she had been gassed and taken prisoner by the same English army that now gassed her offspring. If the monster ever woke up it would be really pissed!

   Soldiers assembled extra large handcuffs, leg restraints and a dozen straps, along with a gimp mask with a pool ball in it to restrain the thing. A glass butt plug made for Americans and a spanking paddle were a last resort. They waited till the gas levels subsided so they could safely enter the ruin and finally capture the beast and return to their base. The Devil Snail stood guard, it was impervious to gas. It would cut the legs from under the creature if it gained sanctuary of the kitchen with its eye mounted laser cannons.

   With eight soldiers dead, the Captain knew his options were limited and so was his time because he didn’t know how long it would take to move the creature. It looked like it weighed close to four hundred pounds. Including himself and his three private soldiers they numbered four men; the pilot of the transport would remain where he was in his craft for only he was able to fly it back. Maybe officers should be trained on basic piloting of the transporters if anything happened to the pilot? The Captain would raise the issue at a later staff meeting when he got back; so confident was he of his mission success.

   The gas should have dissipated now enough for their respirators to work; he sent one man down to check on the monster’s condition. Cautiously advancing down the splintered unsafe stairs the soldier never took his eyes off the monster; its shoulders heaved slowly under laboured efforts to breathe. Reaching the hairy thing, the man studied it for a full minute watching in case it was play-acting and tricking him so it could kill him. Sure that the thing really was asleep the soldier signalled okay with his free hand, his other aimed his loaded machine pistol. One had to be sure. His infrared goggles gave an eerie image down the dark stairs; slowly turning and climbing the stairs, he trusted the gas to subdue the monster so it wouldn’t strike from behind and joined his comrades.

   Right, time for the fetish gear to be used! The Captain ordered one of his men to go down the stairs with him and secure the monster; he let the soldier who just did the recon on the thing stand guard duty. The monster was full of all over body hair, long and unwashed covered in blood from bullet and grenade injuries. Now where to start? With great difficulty the hands were manacled, first with extra large handcuffs made from titanium and carbon fibre, these were meant to be unbreakable. Now they would be tested. Next were leg restraints made of nylon strapping with Velcro fasteners, three pairs of these on various places on the legs to inhibit movement and escape. Then the gimp helmet made from supple leather and dyed black with a titanium zip on one side, a ball in the mouth bit and covered eyepieces. This gimp mask would fit a football, such was its size. Following it was a glass butt plug, up the monster’s naked arse. Plenty of Lube 2000 was needed because it was quite tight. Evidently it used something to wipe its arse after shitting, for there was little dried crap on its bum fluff hairs. The spanking paddles weren’t used; they would hopefully stop the monster if it tried to wriggle free from the restraints. Now to get the thing up the stairs quickly and efficiently; the transport craft was ordered to take off and fly to the backyard of the house and land regardless of obstacles and danger. The craft had a powerful winching mechanism built into it to be used at times like this.

   The three soldiers left the kitchen to watch the craft do the perilous landing; it flew in a tight circle hovering and slowly lowered itself into the yard’s confines, lower and lower. A small rotten fence was crushed under one landing skid but nothing else impeded the ship which ended up just one metre from the rear stone wall and debris near the house. With speed the pilot opened the door where the winch was, the Captain grabbed the hook and cable and slowly unreeled it and went down into the cellar. A single soldier accompanied him to hook up the creature and drag it out of the house in the coming minutes.

   Down below the thing was stirring, wondering what the hell had happened, why it had a headache from hell and how come it couldn’t move. It was aware of being poked and prodded while the cable and hook were fastened together, then it woke up! Powerful knock out gas designed for twelve plus hours had lasted barely one, time to move! In a roar of pure anger the monster shrugged of its sleepiness and struggled and wriggled like the Devil himself, the winch motor started with a hum and dragged the struggling best from the dark lair, which had been its home. Up the stairs thumping and banging due to its huge weight, straight through the sidewall like a huge destructive bowling ball into the kitchen and outside. The Devil Snail covered the operation as the soldiers watched with weapons ready; the English army transport rose into the air on its methane engine. It struggled under the strain dragging the monster on the single half-inch steel Kevlar cable, the nose of the ship was pointed down due to the weight, the pilot skilfully added thrust to trim the ship and keep it level. He turned on his own axis and increased height dragging the monster up into the sky, it was awake now and it bellowed and wriggled but to no avail, it was a prisoner.

   Landing on the grass the transport pilot waited for the Captain and two remaining soldiers to join him. Taking a powerful dart gun loaded with tranquillisers to put the monster to sleep again, the officer duly walked towards the creature that squirmed and bellowed to be set free, its animal calls echoing over the moorland. Nobody helped it.

   Looking down at the pathetic animal that was part human but horrifically deformed due to radiation, the officer fired the single dart into the thing, reloading and fired a second. A third would kill it. This followed the other two into the struggling pile of flesh. Rapidly the toxins took effect and the animal was silent.

   Boarding the craft the three soldiers slapped one another on the back, a job well done. Closing the door, the craft awkwardly sped into the air with the monster suspended underneath like a lead weight on a fishing line, back to English army lines. But not before firing a hundred new nuclear bullets down onto the old collapsed farmhouse that had been home to Sarah, John and their little child so long ago. Now the house ceased to exist, in a rush of nuclear energy similar to what had destroyed the many other towns and cities in England, it vanished. The English army had managed to miniaturise nuclear warheads so they could be fitted into normal machine gun bullets. Fired from two miles away by more powerful ammunition, these weapons were more devastating that any conventional weapon including the new flame throwers and Devil Snail attack units. Many miles away below in the valley the light show was unparalleled as small mushroom clouds formed joining into a single large one hanging in the sky.

   Juniper’s Daughter had been too late but that didn’t mean she had failed, no, she would follow the transporter with its prisoner and rescue him. She might as well destroy the English army base while she was at it. She had to watch out for the nuclear bullets, they would shoot her nice shiny disc down with no trouble if they managed to get a lucky hit. To counter this, the witch energised the protective force field. The outer hull of her flying saucer was made of alien exotic alloys not found here on earth, giving great structural strength and protection but even they had their limits. High speed and agility with the potential to turn ninety-degree corners was another insurance policy guaranteeing her safety, not to mention stealth capabilities, a choice of invisibility and other features. Being a top of the range saucer, it had all the mod cons including great air-conditioning and a wicked stereo system. Time to show off some of her capabilities and have a bit of fun with the English army transport; she wouldn’t fire due to the prisoner unceremoniously dangling underneath on a cable. This would limit the transports speed, agility and height making it a sitting duck, easily found and followed.

   Here she comes! Smiling to herself, the blond haired witch tipped her disc almost vertical angling down upon the slow transport craft two thousand feet below her. It was hugging the ground at around a hundred knots forward airspeed. She zoomed down at five hundred but slowly reduced speed to a more sedate two hundred on the way, not to upset the enemy craft by her slipstream. Down she dived, now making the silver disc visible and making sure the protective shield was up so no nuclear bullets would damage her ship.

   In the late summer sky the disc was fully visible to the pilot of the English army transporter, his thumb went for the machine gun button but he held fire, best ask for orders first. He told his officer who swore. Yes the witch was back, he had been briefed on the reports of the engagements with the English army APCs that had carried out an armed recon of the Renford area and the resulting encounter with the witch, Juniper’s Daughter. This was her okay; he ordered the pilot to keep on course and only fire if he had a clean shot but no closer than a mile due to the blast effect of the nuclear bullets. They couldn’t manoeuvre due to their unconscious prisoner carried on the cable; it would be a different matter if the craft was unladen and could fully use its flight performance envelope.

   Juniper’s Daughter did the flyby noticing the transporter carried on its original course and speed. Another fly by on their left side followed by a steep turn right in front of their nose should do the trick – a risky manoeuvre due to the low height and dangerous gun on the craft. Closer and closer she flew in a feat of brilliant airmanship, tilting her shiny silver saucer until the angle was dizzying. By thought alone she controlled her ship curving round just a hundred feet from the transport, which was rapidly lost from view due to the steep angle of her turn and closeness of the other craft.

   Onboard the transporter, the officer and pilot swore and screamed insults at the saucer and witch. Keep on course ordered the officer in anger, don’t let that bitch win. She won’t open fire due to the prisoner but we can fire, a warning shot, do it now ordered the officer to his pilot, who obeyed. His finger pressed the trigger and five nuclear bullets left the barrel of the single specially modified machine gun. The special shells flew forwards at a mile a second, hitting the ground three miles away. The flying saucer was still in the rear hemisphere turning back to do its next pass.  Would her tactics change? What would the witch do now? Would the small nuclear explosions put her off? She was a tenacious bitch but even she had her limits. The English army knew much of these and even knowing some of what the witch couldn’t do, still put the army at a huge disadvantage. New weapon systems like nuclear bullets and Devil Snails helped tip the scales a little in their favour but not much. The most powerful laser mounted on the largest Devil Snail was a peashooter when compared to the laser cannon mounted on the flying saucer and even her magic when directed by the crystal on her wand was three times as powerful as the twin large lasers on the largest attack unit. This last capability drained Juniper’s Daughter’s energy levels to dangerously low levels, after using such a skill she was dangerous to counterattack or even capture.

   Five nuclear bullets flew forth out into the sky, each one exploded like a mini nuclear explosion with bright flash splitting the heavens, a small fireball one metre in diameter and over thirty million degrees Centigrade – a mini sun, this vaporised everything close by. Following this was a supersonic blast wave kicking out in a sphere for a distance of one hundred metres destroying everything apart from solid granite mountainsides; reinforced concrete would yield to such powerful weapons. One might be brushed off but not ten or even a hundred, destruction would be total; after the supersonic blast wave, a wind of two hundred and fifty miles an hour occupied the space where the air had been blown away. This wind blew in two directions – first away from the main shockwave back to the point of the explosion and then in the opposite direction away from the blast, in the footsteps of the main blast wave. In-between all this was the firestorm, a left over from the high temperatures of the almost infinitely hot fireball, structures made of natural materials burned like under a blowtorch. If the shockwave was at ground level, a mini earthquake was created to shake down any tall buildings like a tower block or bridge. When five nuclear bullets went off all together the effect was devastating and lethal, luckily the witch and her saucer were out of range when the explosions occurred. It got her attention and that was the desired result. A total of a hundred and fifty nuclear bullets occupied the magazine of the single machine gun on the nose of the English army transport, giving wicked firepower and a powerful advantage to the English army. With the right tactics they could control the whole landmass, given time and total violence using their newly invented wonder weapons. Adolf Hitler would die for such lethal technology.

   Juniper’s Daughter didn’t panic but she was very annoyed, she had to control her emotions so clarity of thought would win the day. She rolled her disc violently and zoomed down upon the slow transport, which continued, stubbornly on course. Her finger pressed the silver penis shaped control column engaging the plasma pulse laser cannon, a burst of superheated energy, light blue in colour, flashed from her saucer onwards and over the transporter. What would they do now? For two seconds the beam fizzled through the sky startling the pilot of the English army transporter. He almost lost control as the nose dipped dangerously two hundred feet above the ground. Luckily he was a skilled pilot so averted disaster. Gotta try something different I nearly made them crash then! thought Juniper’s Daughter but what, what can I do? They keep on flying to the English army base that is ten miles ahead, a mere ten minutes flying time. Time to act; I’ve got to do something, what? A list of options came to the witch in preternatural speed: she could – 1. Quickly fly up ahead to the English army base in visible or non-visible mode and open fire on it, so the transporter would have to fly elsewhere, 2. Shoot down the transporter killing everybody including their prisoner who hung by a cable under the craft, 3. Disable the methane engine with a highly skilled shot hoping the craft crash landed safely, that was doubtful so she could use her saucer’s gravity lifting equipment to ensnare the craft before it crashed and place it gently on the ground, 4. Flyby at high speed and force them down, this again could kill everybody onboard, 5. Use the small reservoir coming up ahead to her advantage, shoot the engine out with a skilled shot and let the craft crash land in the water. People inside would live but the prisoner would drown.

   Juniper’s Daughter decided her course of action; flying past and opening fire hadn’t worked so she did this. By power of pure thought the witch made her flying saucer turn invisible to the human eye, to radar and to infrared equipment; she flew up ahead crossing the nine miles to the base in two seconds using her maximum atmosphere speed capability. Coming over the base she saw a lot of activity including moving vehicles of various types from the English army inventory, lots of troops moving about setting up ground defences like missiles and guns, a special pre-fabricated building of some type being assembled and a few English army transporters were being readied for flight. Hovering a thousand feet over the base the witch opened fire immediately with her plasma beam weapon in the invisible mode, so no one could see her and open fire on her. She swept the beam over the exposed soldiers who wore nothing but upper body armour, full body enclosed protective suits against the radiation and a helmet style respirator. They carried a variety of weapons. Under the beam the soldiers fell to the ground, writhing and wriggling under the heat while their suits gave good thermal protection this was quickly overwhelmed and the men burned alive. Three seconds of laser light reduced the men to piles of black ash, now it was the turn of the transport craft, which if armed with nuclear bullet firing weapons were a real threat to Juniper’s daughter and her flying disc. Her beam weapon washed over the four guinea pig shaped craft, one had just started its take off rising two feet above the ground to start its next patrol. The pilot was blinded through his tinted windscreen which melted sending his craft sideways rolling into the ground, it crashed and split open like a broken egg spilling strapped in soldiers and a Devil Snail onto the grass. Due to the crash the retaining straps snapped and soldiers were killed or injured on impact, the methane engine didn’t explode in the crash for some reason, was it specially protected? This didn’t matter as the laser beam from the saucer set the main fuel tank on fire, causing it to explode like a huge firebomb incinerating the remains of the smashed craft and soldiers. All around the grass blazed from the laser, it swept over the other three craft detonating them in the same way like huge bombs when the laser superheated the outer hull and methane fuel supply. Anyone aboard or nearby was killed immediately, being unable to return fire in the ferocious attack. Smoke drifted up to the sky in a thick black cloud and flames glowed angry orange, these would be visible from the approaching transport craft that carried the prisoner. Time for one more attack in the limited time; she moved the craft over the huge warehouse where the prisoners were being murdered. Opening fire with the beam weapon on maximum power, Juniper’s Daughter swivelled the beam about over the full roof area of the enormous building to burn the whole lot. Due to the huge power of the beam, coming from the saucer’s antigravity reactor, the roof of the factory glowed and collapsed inwards and everything underneath ceased to exist. It turned to flaming plasma, much as it would in a nuclear explosion before it was vaporised. Stored vehicles, soldiers, a dozen prisoners about to be burned by flame thrower, weapons supplies, a small force labour factory and ten prisoners and a hundred other things blazed away like nothing seen on this earth before. At least, not since the attack on the English army base on the Isle of Man many years before, had destruction been wrought on the English army. John and Sarah’s attack was meagre by comparison. Satisfied, the witch stopped shooting for a few seconds, she changed her flight path to bring her disc over the parked up vehicles. Leaving her beam weapon at full power she gave them a squirt while slowly over flying them, only melted red hot glowing metal remained and piles of ash of their crews and soldiers. She left the small pre-fabricated building, this was because she wanted to, a testament to her killing power and ability to attack unhindered.

   Aboard the approaching English army transport the pilot saw the distant smoke and burning flames from six miles away, he swung his transport away from the destroyed base before telling his officer what he saw. Flying onto a new heading and increasing power, he told his boss what was up ahead, going to tactical flying while carrying an under slung load showed the skill level of his training, he was good. He had the ability and authorisation to make time critical decisions like this without asking his officer for permission thus gaining a few critical seconds. His Captain thanked him and nodded in satisfaction, he had the best transport pilot in the English army. He ordered his pilot to drop his under slung load and shoot down the witch in her saucer; their new ultraviolet radar scanner should pick her up. If not they would die trying!

   Juniper’s Daughter remained invisible in her ship as she zoomed out of the battle area back to her original quarry. She planned to shoot out their engine and bring them down to rescue John and Sarah’s offspring; at near maximum speed the witch arced around to get on their tail covering a dozen miles in seconds. In her mind she ordered the laser weapon to fire a pencil thin directed beam of low intensity to disable the methane engine on the transport craft without exploding its volatile fuel supply.

   There they were! Hugging the ground doing some fancy low level flying, that pilot was good if he flew his craft with no load and to its limit, he would be dangerous. Dangerous but not invincible. Suddenly the English army transport brought its nose up as if for landing, losing height in a sickening tail first tactical landing approach. Thirty feet above the ground the pilot steadied his craft and cut the cable! Their prisoner gave a huge below of anger and fell ten feet to the rough moorland grass and landed with a thud. It squirmed and wriggled but couldn’t escape due to the fetish bindings that enclosed its body top to toe. Free of its load, the pilot of the transport rapidly increased speed and climbed steeply, turning in search of the invisible saucer, the fight was on! He set his special machine gun to single shot and fired single bullets one a second to try and get a lucky shot, even one would shake the saucer and witch like a dice in a cup. The explosion alone would show her position even if her protective shield held fast, more nuclear bullets would follow possibly shooting her down. One per second, no hits yet but distant small nuclear explosions three or four miles away literally raised hell. Far away the Devil smiled. There she is! A faint skin trace on the ultraviolet radar scanner showed the circular pattern of the disc, the pilot corrected his aim and fired three single nuclear bullets, such was the quickness he didn’t have time to select rapid fire on his trigger. Only one nuclear bullet hit the flying saucer and Juniper’s Daughter but it was like hell on earth.

   After the transport pilot had dropped his prisoner the witch knew she had problems, real bad problems. She fired her laser weapon at the climbing and turning transport and missed! She had panicked; the beam was set for pencil thin localised damage on a low setting and invisible, so the pilot never even knew it was there. Even if it hit it wouldn’t do much damage, a cockpit hit or on the fuel tank to damage and not destroy. Changing the setting by her mind, the witch was about to open fire again when the first nuclear bullets shot past her, exploding some distance behind. She had to get this twat fast or she was in trouble! It hit her without warning one of three aimed single shots at her. Blinded by the flash of the fireball the witch fired her laser blindly on the estimated position of her enemy target; she hit it a millisecond after its gunfire hit her.

   In the sky chaos and fire reined, the ten-ton yield nuclear warhead of the nuclear bullet hit the invisible flying saucer bang on target. Luckily the protective force field the witch had energised earlier did its job and saved her craft and herself from serious damage or death. She was thrown about like a fish in a stormy river, the gravity system was momentarily overpowered but came back online, hardly able to think the witch gave the rapid thought to her ship to descend and land where it was, fuck whatever was below.

   The English army transport had been hit by a fraction of the witch’s full strength energy beam; it was enough, the transport was nothing but a pile of flaming metal falling to earth in a cloud of burning fuel and smoke. Everyone aboard the craft perished, including the skilled pilot, his talented officer and remaining soldiers. It was the price of total war. Their mission had been a success but they lost their last fight.

   Juniper’s Daughter had a real nauseous headache; her thinking was confused after she had been hit. She quickly had to get herself together and rescue the tied up prisoner on the moorland where it had been dumped by the English army transport. Struggling to think she located it a couple of miles away on higher ground, ordering her ship to take off and fly there she brought it back to visible mode so the monster wouldn’t be afraid, he was familiar with the witch and her ship. Arriving overhead, the witch brought online the gravity lift and gently lifted the tied up creature aboard into the cargo bay. When he was aboard she made her craft invisible and climbed vertically to thirty thousand feet to start their flight to a safer area, to be safe from any remaining English army transports equipped with nuclear bullets and ultraviolet radar. She programmed her beam weapon to shoot down any flying object the closed upon them to ensure their safety. Leaving her seat the witch went to the lower cargo bay to reassure her new guest and untie him while her craft did its own automated flight to a place the witch had chosen to hide for a while. It had been many years since they had last met, under safer circumstances.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarah’s Legacy

 

   In his possession the monster had a book, this book was written by his dead mother, Sarah. The monster was Sarah’s and John’s sole offspring, deformed by radiation so its body weight was close to four hundred pounds of rippling taught flesh in a stumpy deformed body. How the monster survived was anyone’s guess but the witch knew, for she knew everything, especially when it came to Sarah and John and their child. Long ago Juniper’s Daughter had delivered the monster in a tricky delivery through c-section that nearly killed Sarah, such was her baby’s size. It came out weighing a huge fourteen pounds – one full stone. It became clear at its birth that the child was hideously deformed due to radiation sickness and exposure from living in a low/medium level contaminated area. The trips to Leeds and Bradford were also a major factor due to the huge levels of radioactive poison present in those destroyed areas.

   Juniper’s Daughter was to blame in the Leeds trip due to the fact that she had been in the consciousness of an old woman that Sarah, John and their long-term friend Lee had found in the ruins. The dying woman told the trio of the imminent arrival of Juniper’s Daughter and a time of great change that she would bring; the trio of freedom fighters had been a key element in this change in the war of light versus darkness. Had it been necessary to expose Sarah and her soon to be pagan husband John to radiation to get the fact over of the coming of a witch from afar? In effect the answer was yes, they had to see the evils of mans’ actions against his own brothers and sisters, the nuclear destroyed city of Leeds where close to a million people perished in total. Radiation poisoning was an allowable factor in the great equation of things.

   Sarah gave birth to a deformed monster as a direct result of going in search of answers and who was Juniper’s Daughter. Now Juniper’s Daughter had in her company that same offspring in the cargo bay of her flying saucer, a prisoner the English army had captured and almost succeeded in getting back to their base. There they would have interrogated, tested, experimented on, taken samples of to make their own soldiers stronger and aggressive, then finally murdered when its usefulness was exhausted. Juniper’s Daughter had stalled the army, destroyed their huge evil base, shot down their transport craft and rescued their captive, quite a success, thought the witch but how different it could have been. The army developed more lethal weapons and tracking devices to trap and kill the witch, she had to keep one step ahead of them and their main indirect ally – the Devil himself, for the army did his evil deeds. She knew the English army was aware of this but she wasn’t powerful enough to stop a full army from its evil intent, she had her hands full battling the Devil, her main enemy. Only by doing a bit here and there could the witch win, by out thinking and then out fighting her enemies at critical areas. Till now she had just about drawn even, would she ever win? Maybe with Sarah’s offspring she would, it was worth a try even if they died trying.

   Landing her flying saucer in a safe area – underneath a huge lake called Wast Water in the very north of England, outside English army lines but near the troubled border area of Scotland, the witch, her disc and her friend were safe for now. The lake was almost midnight blue in colour and very deep, it was England’s deepest at over 250 foot deep, nowhere near as deep as Scotland’s half a dozen deep lochs, some well over a thousand. She thought of flying to the deepest but shrugged the thought off, no she would stay here and only go there if she was located and under direct English army attack. She hoped they had no deep-water sensors/weapons but she could never be too sure.

   In the cargo bay of her saucer it was nearly dark, a faint relaxing purple light illuminated her friend. She removed his hideous restraints put in place by the wicked army to show they were the boss and it was the captive, a wicked act of power. The creature growled a greeting in a guttural tone. Juniper’s Daughter answered in a crystal clear voice, “Yes my friend it’s been a long time since we last met for that you have my sincerest apologies. I wanted to see you a dozen times over that period but I was so busy, my excuses and apologies are unforgivable. I wish I had seen you under more friendly circumstances.”

   “My lady, please don’t trouble yourself. I lived, I existed as I always will. I knew you looked over me from afar even if you weren’t with me. I understand your role and the job you have to do. Before my mother died she talked with great fondness of you, at how she missed you. Sarah was in great pain towards her end, it was the radiation that deformed me. It got into her body and poisoned her. My father John, he was stronger he fought it for a while, till it took him and left me an orphan. I buried my parents in the field by their stone house. They loved living there you know and the price was their lives and this, look at me. I’m a monster,” replied the creature sadly.

   Juniper’s Daughter was touched to tears that such a powerful creature could still show such sensitive human emotions. She held its hand in her small delicate feminine hands.

   “I knew your parents well; in my time here they became my friends and confidantes. They both endured so much in their young lives and paid a heavy price to help me bring change, a price paid in their friends’ blood. What their enemies did was unforgivable, that includes today’s actions of the army who took you prisoner. I destroyed their base and killed them all, including the ones who took you. I had no choice or they would hunt both of us down. They almost shot me down, they have some new weapons and sensors that tracked me, still they lost but we both have to be careful. Now they’ll want to avenge the loss of another base. We know their past behaviour, oh we slowed them down but the bastards will be back,” explained the emotional witch. She wiped a single tear away from her eye.

   “I was asleep in the cellar dreaming of my parents, how they loved me even though I was a freak. Their love was unconditional. Then the English army came into my cellar invading my home and took me; I fought back desperately and ripped some of them to bits with my bare hands. They injured me with guns and bullets. Would you please tend my wounds?” the monster gruffly said in broken English.

   “Yes, yes! Forgive me! I’m so sorry. I see you’re suffering in pain. I’ll do it right now, please forgive me for my error I should have treated you immediately and not made small talk. I’ve not been myself but that is no excuse! Here, I’ll heal you with my crystal. Show me where you wounds are, I can only see a few,” she stuttered rather confused. Her clear mind was cloudy for some reason. She approached the creature until she was right next to him; she looked at his hideous bullet, blast and shrapnel wounds.

   “Here I have bullets in my legs, my arms, my body and shrapnel in my left leg and back and other injuries. I know witch that you’re confused, that is the Devil playing with your mind. He controlled the English army and is responsible for this whole situation. By destroying the army base and killing the soldiers you put all of their plans on hold, temporarily. If you heal me successfully it’s a further victory for good against evil. We must not lose!” commented the monster, displaying an inner strength much greater than his physical one.

   “I know I came so close to losing then when they fired that special bullet at me. My power was weak at that moment, evil almost beat me. They also destroyed your house with many such bullets; you can never go back there it’ll be radioactive. Where will you go?” said Juniper’s Daughter getting her crystal ready she wore around her neck to do her healing on her wounded friend.

   “I don’t know. I’ll deal with that later. My wounds are the problem now,” replied the monster.

   “Yes you are right. Keep still while I heal you. It may take some time,” whispered the witch closing her eyes and holding her sacred stone over the first of many injuries she had to treat. Focusing her mind totally on her task she shut all other distractions out, everything. The crystal glowed brilliant white, the white light of creation flowing through her into her stone from the universe. Suddenly it left the stone in a brilliant beam flowing over the monster’s injured areas; he flinched in pain but relaxed while the white light did its healing miracle. Healing this way depleted the witch’s energy levels to dangerously low but it was the only way to do quick healing like this, due to its size and number of wounds it was a real challenge. For many minutes she did this with her crystal feeling her natural energy leave her slim body at a horrendous speed, she opened up her third eye to draw in energy from the universe. As this new energy flowed into Juniper’s Daughter a little of her own was restored but not enough, she felt faint and was ready to collapse, she must break off now or she could die! White light left her crystal and her healing stopped but she had done enough removing the threat of death from her friend, nature would heal the rest of his wounds at a much slower natural rate. The witch had done her best, now she rested next to the dozing monster. Beside them were the evil bonds from the English army that had imprisoned the monster, several straps, handcuffs, a gimp mask with a snooker type ball in the mouth area and a huge glass butt plug. What sadists the army had been! When she awoke the witch would destroy these hideous things of domination so they would never be used again.

   In her mind a dream came to her from long ago, a nice erotic dream from a brief time when she had no worries, was in no danger or she was learning the art of domination and being a mistress. Her teacher was an Indian shaman on the Indian subcontinent in the year 1456. Juniper’s Daughter was in the area having mediated in a land dispute that would have led to a serious war and heavy loss of life. Here she met a mystical wise man called Dov; he was a forty two year old shaman who was in touch with the spirits of ancestors who had passed over. He also could communicate with various local pagan Gods/Goddesses that were present in the natural landscape, for example the Goddess of a local stream named Sfet. Among his many skills was the Karma Sutra, the ability to make love in a thousand and one positions if one was athletic enough with a similarly willing partner. The witch knew much of these but she wanted to know the darker side of being a dominatrix, who better to teach her than a wise Indian shaman who was ready and willing to help out? She didn’t need his spiritual teachings, she listened as he whispered one of his lectures with interest and waited for the appropriate time to request help on this delicate erotic dark topic. When she asked him he was quiet for some minutes, eyes closed meditating on the topic. She dare not disturb him in fear of rejection so she patiently waited; twenty long minutes later he opened his eyes and replied, “Yes Juniper’s Daughter I will teach you and show you my skills, the skills of a dominatrix. With these skills you will travel on an inner journey within yourself and later, with your future partners and lovers. Are you ready?”

   “Yes my teacher I am ready. I trust you totally and I’m in your safe hands. Let us begin when you are ready,” replied the witch in total trust with her teacher.

   Under the glade of trees away from the hot Indian sun the shamanic dominatrix erotic sex lovemaking instructor stood up and slowly removed his clothes. He took his time doing this, before informing the witch he would remove her clothes because he was in charge, she nodded agreeing to this. Removing her rough cotton top revealed her fine ample breasts perfectly formed, next he took off her long dyed multi coloured skirt showing her wonderful thighs and most private area under her cotton underwear, these were the last to be removed. Her lovely pussy was exposed almost saying, “Look at me! I’m Juniper’s Daughter’s lush vibrant pussy come and make love to me, play with me, taste me!”

   The naked couple of teacher and student got down to it, he instructed her on the authority structure in the dom/sub culture. One was in charge, this was the dominatrix, shortened to the dom and the one who the dom took charge over, dominated, was the submissive or sub. The rules could be altered, one could be in charge all of the time, in that case there was one set dom and one set sub but in a switch role, the positions changed. So the dom became the sub and the sub the dom. Involvement level also varied from experimental, like putting a toe in the water to see if one liked it, if so you could slowly become more involved. The more heavily involved dominatrix took it as a life style choice, as did many submissives; for various personal reasons they did this and enjoyed/hated their roles in it. The psychology could be quite complex and deep but the enjoyment level was often very satisfactory. The equipment of the dom was similar to what the English army had restrained their prisoner with. In a sex game it was not as bad when someone was restrained, generally not in traumatic physical danger. Other sexy tools were used like whips, chains, restraints, knives, gags and more.

   Juniper’s Daughter would be the submissive in the initial stages but she also needed to learn the other side, that of dominatrix to give her full understanding and experience of it. Now naked, she got ready doing what the shaman, now her dom, ordered her to. She closed her eyes and put total trust in him, so he could do his job to the best of his ability; arms in front of her the witch was now tied up with special, binding rope made from a local tree – very supple but equally strong and resilient similar qualities to a sub in this game. A blindfold was placed over her eyes so she couldn’t see what was going on, it wasn’t tied too tight but enough to give the impression of her not being in control. Then a hood was put over her head with a wooden ball in the middle to stop her talking but she could scream. Some vocal input helped give the game reality and enjoyment.

    While she was stood there, the dom whipped the witch on the back of her shapely thighs, she wasn’t ready for it so she flinched though the blow was only slight. The dom explained to his sub after he did this again the meaning of this, what he expected her to feel now and how things could progress from this stage. The sub listened and remembered each of his instructions, actions and teachings. More whippings with the whip, each a little harder till red welts appeared on her thighs and she winced at the blows. This was becoming quite serious, how far would her dom go with his sub? Enough to break her skin so she bled? Some dom’s liked that and became energised at the sight of blood from their own dominating actions but this dom didn’t do that, he stopped one level under that. Next he used water based paint to paint her body, this was a low level action showing that the dom was in charge, it was his decision to do this, not him asking his sub or her suggesting it. Around her shapely nipples and breast he painted random figures and patterns letting his imagination run wild. Then he pinched her nipples making his sub cry out in pain, it wasn’t all enjoyment, now and again the pain level had to be demonstrated, not all of the time just enough. Back to the painting for a few minutes, now her nice arse, then a hard slap on her left buttock, more on the right bringing more winces of pain from the submissive woman who was learning this new thing she was experiencing.

   Time for the spanking paddle, a wooden implement of wicked effectiveness and delight, even the name was suggestive – spanking paddle. When he had done the witch’s arse was red raw but in a nice way; a little later it was roles reversed and Juniper’s Daughter took up the role of dom and the shaman as the sub. He taught her best he could despite some language barriers; this was sorted through sign language and shouted orders. Most of the time they understood one another, even with the gimp hood blocking any vision. Over the time the witch spent with her teacher he covered all areas she needed to know, briefing her on any future situations where she would need these skills. He refreshed her basic karma sutra skills. The witch was fucked good and proper, retaining every single bit of information, feeling and position.

 

   Back to the cargo bay in her flying saucer under the dark depths of Wast Water, Juniper’s Daughter caught up with the monster her long lost friend who was John’s and Sarah’s child, deeply affected by radiation poisoning. The witch was safe for it was genetic and she was immune to large doses, being a Goddess of Mother Nature. She knew the monsters sex; he was of both sexes, a hermaphrodite with both a male penis and a female vagina. It wasn’t able to make love to itself due to the penis facing outwards and not being able to do a one eighty. Certainly the English army wanted to see if the monster could have fucked itself so they could genetically copy this and make self-breeding soldiers to increase the numbers of their small evil army. When someone said, “Go and fuck yourself,” they could have done just that and made more evil soldiers to take over the English landmass in the coming decades. You had to be one step ahead, never mind the genetic engineering in cryogenic nuclei fluid that they were rumoured to be experimenting one. The witch hoped she had blown that small experiment to hell when she hit the huge army warehouse in her last attack, she was unsure if there was a sister plant doing similar genetic experiments, she bet there was.

   Opening a small access panel on the smooth wall, Juniper’s Daughter took out two beers, stolen English army beer of 9% alcoholic volume. There were many more in the small storage area. She handed one to the monster, “You gotta admit the cunts are good at making beer. The only thing they’re good at. I stole these when we flew over and fired on their warehouse base. I used the gravity lift to liberate some of their beer store so now we can enjoy it. Here I’ll open it for you.”

   “Thanks Juniper’s Daughter, it’s been a bit since I had some beer, let’s have a session,” replied the monster taking the bottle from the witch. She threw the lids onto the floor. Clicking her fingers the purple light slowly changed to a nice subdued green and two low leather chairs appeared from nowhere!

   “Might as well drink in style!” she commented raising her bottle, “to us and freedom and good times!”

   “To good times and to us and to freedom,” growled the monster, taking a long slug from his bottle emptying three quarters of the one-litre contents in one go.

   “Steady on my friend!” laughed the witch, “there’s plenty more where these came from.” She finished drinking some of hers.

   “This is good shit but not as strong as the moonshine that my parents used to make in the stone house to show me what it was like. That was lethal stuff!” remembered the creature becoming misty eyed.

   “Yes I had some once that your mum had made many years ago. It was quite something!”

   Slowly the minutes ticked by and both friends chatted on times past and hopes for the future, whatever it brought. The witch needed to relax, she had been so busy over recent months, it seemed like a never-ending process battling darkness. Yes it was good to enjoy down time she idly thought, she must make more of an effort to do this. She wondered if her friend wanted to accompany her in the long term, so she asked, “Hey you know… you could journey with me full time if you want to? It gets lonely doing my job you know and I could use the company. And your home is no more. What do you say?”

   “Nice idea, I’ll have to think about it. Yes you’re right on the loss of my home…” it replied. “I could go back to the hillside and live near the rocks in a cave I know, it’s not great but it’d give me shelter. I’m skilled in growing stuff, my mother taught me the skills you taught her, that helped me to live this long. The other food I pillaged from the destroyed city far off in the valley. There were a few badly damaged shops with out of date food there, I used hundreds of tins of it over the years. I wasn’t scared of more radiation, just look at the state of me!”

   “Well I welcome your decision if you choose to stay or go, the choice is yours alone. Yes I taught your mother some skills in growing food and cooking it, I’m glad she passed them on to you, I’m very grateful for that,” Juniper’s Daughter replied. She reached down for two more beers. How an earth had they got there next to her chair out of the storage cupboard? Opening the drinks she passed the monster one and finished her first one then took a gulp from the second one, throwing the empty bottle into the corner of the bay. It smashed with a loud noise in the enclosed space, she laughed loudly as did the monster, a hideous gruff noise coming from its deformed nose. Yes it was good to relax and have fun even if it was drinking stolen army beer in a flying saucer under a deep lake where they were safe to unwind and chill out.

   “Hey monster, please show me the book your mother wrote I never did get to read the finished book, just bits from her original manuscript. Do you have it with you?” enquired the witch, whose eyes lit up briefly with blue light deep within. She did this trick when she wanted her way!

   The monster didn’t mind, he reached down to his left side to a flap of skin that was like the pouch on a mother kangaroo where the baby was carried, how remarkable. And it withdrew the book! It smelled of sweat and dirt but was in remarkably good condition, this was the first edition and only ten were printed originally. Who knew if more copies had been done from those ten and passed around in the dark of night? Rumour abounded that the English army sought out each copy and killed the people found in possession of each book, then made their families simply disappear. Was it truth or lies? Of the original ten including this first copy, many had been lost, burnt or captured by the army. John and Sarah had distributed a few copies and the monster did the same with two he had left over, he had no way to copy the sole copy he had so he kept it close to him. It never left his side. Radiation poisoning produced a deformed flap of skin where he could store the book, not even the army had found it when they took him prisoner. The monster passed the book to the witch who studied it intently

   “Thanks my friend. This is a very special book, thank you,” said the witch, humbly staring at the cover and its faded words. It read: “Sarah’s story. Struggle, strife, survival.” This was written in faded red writing, was it blood or dye? And what was the front cover made of? It looked like paper but it wasn’t, it felt more like… skin! There was no writing on the back cover or front other than the title, turning the cover slowly and carefully Juniper’s Daughter started to read Sarah’s story told in her own words. The well-made book contained two hundred pages and was quite small; this allowed it to be hidden quickly from English army searches. Had they wanted to ban it so badly? Yes they had and holding this small book in her hands, gave a surreal yet brutally real impression to the witch. Sarah had really triumphed here; hers was a victory for freedom against darkness. Worth much more than her armed struggle against her main enemy, the English army, who even now tried to capture her only child and the book it always carried. Her war with the Welsh and Scottish had been brutal but not as vicious when compared to the army, who had once briefly been her ally in the civil wars. The urgency to tell her story came through immediately from the first page; Juniper’s Daughter became quite emotional on reading her old friend’s words, ignoring the tears that flowed down her cheeks. It was so real, everything came flooding back, years fell away like rose petals in a storm…

 

   “My name is Sarah Topaz, this is my story told by myself in the best way I can. It covers my early life living in Oldham, being at school, the tragedy of the civil wars fought between England, Wales and Scotland when those countries fought for their independence. I went with some of my friends, mainly Lee James and John Kurt, to go and join the Defend England Brigade to stop the Welsh attacks on our innocent towns and houses by the border. I realise now my, our, youthful idealism was a huge error of judgement and we should have never gone to fight. We were sixteen years old, had just finished our exams at school and wanted to get normal jobs. Due to the problems with our country’s economy and the ten-year recession that wasn’t possible. We all discussed what to do, Lee wanted to sign on the dole, John wanted to go abroad and myself, well I wanted to fight. Me being me, I persuaded the lads in an afternoon and we went and joined up. We were just kids, sixteen years old. What did we know? We were full of youthful vigour and thought we could change the world. How many other young people believed the same thing through all of the years and wars in history? They didn’t see how misguided that belief was until it was way too late and their hands were forever tainted with someone else’s spilled blood. Many were killed in wicked acts of war and violence. For me, this led me on a ten-year path of fighting, I became good at it and often enjoyed it; I became a skilled warrior and killed many people over many years of many nationalities and colours. I regret this now, even if I was defending my country against enemy attacks. I should have tried other means like diplomacy to stop the wars but I was a kid, what did I know except to fight? My decision got many of my friends killed and more of our enemies or even innocent people, dead. Murdered by my own hands, I so deeply regret this now and I’m forever tainted with this. What is done is done, I leave this book to my child and for future generations of this wicked strife torn world to learn from my story, don’t take up arms and fight, for that is the path to hell. Learn from my example and don’t do it. Too much was lost by our violence of war and for those who enjoyed the fighting at various times such as me, I can do nothing but to say I’m so very sorry and wish I could turn back the clock.

   We fought for a just cause, we believed, defending our country against those who wanted to harm our people and ourselves. We didn’t care one bit about the Welsh or Scots wanting independence, in fact I was all for it, they could develop into 21^st Century countries then. What I didn’t like were people from those countries attacking places in England, especially neighbouring border towns and villages. We tried to stop this with varying degrees of success but I lay the blame on our leaders for not solving this whole problem sooner rather than later, through the use of violence. If they had all sat down to talk and then if even one life was saved, it would have been something rather than over a quarter of a million being killed for two countries wanting independence. Yes they got that eventually but at what cost to us all? The losers were those killed. Myself, I bear the physical and mental scars, mainly from the Welsh conflict. Many other people aren’t so fortunate.

   Time moved on and normal levels of life returned. This was ruined forever by the nuclear exchange with France over a fishing dispute. How this happened is the greatest tragedy in human history and most costly, with over ninety million killed in England, Scotland, Wales and France. Not even the two newly independent countries were safe from nuclear attack. There is no excuse for this violence, myself I carry the legacy of this limited nuclear war, I saw two nuclear destroyed cites, Leeds and Bradford. I became infected by radiation from my trips to those places and from living on the moors above Bradford in my lovely stone farmhouse with my husband John. My child was born a monster, horribly deformed from the same radiation that poisoned my husband and me. I almost died during childbirth, only the help of Juniper’s Daughter saved me from death.

   Juniper’s Daughter is a shadowy mysterious figure who I don’t fully know or understand why she is here, just that her intentions are honourable and true, that she is a healer, a witch and a fighter if need be. I saw her skills displayed more than once and she won me over to her cause of stopping the violence, killing and descent into darkness. I was very sceptical at first but in time, I became to believe and after the death of my beloved friends Lee, Red and Gun Barrel and my great suffering at the hands of my old allies, the English army, I agreed to help the witch. We did a ritual to stop the darkness, which was carried out by man’s actions under the hand of the Devil. Amazing as it sounds, the natural world is divided into two halves just like night and day, light and dark. Juniper’s Daughter explained this to me numerous times; we did a ritual and stopped the Devil in his tracks. I never believed in the Devil and only in what I can see with my own eyes. I believed in doing to people what they do to you and I lived my life by this. When I saw the Devil appear in the storm clouds above this very place where we live now I understood what we had to do and why we had to stop killing, not just ourselves but also all of us. If the war continues then darkness will swallow everything and the whole world will be engulfed and destroyed, so the Devil can take over and plunge the world into dark ages that could last forever. I saw that Juniper’s Daughter was our only hope and by working with her, we could hope to achieve some degree of success through magic and faith. This is the right thing. The magic ritual myself, John and Juniper’s Daughter did was one of many she had carried out with a few lost souls who could help the witch win the longest war in human history, the battle of light versus darkness. If we had failed then evil and darkness would have engulfed the land over which the Devil would have roamed, in total control. We won and he lost. I have no idea of what would have happened to us if we had lost, would we have been enslaved in an army of darkness or killed outright? We showed we could win and that victory, no matter how small, was possible. This allowed me to give up my way of the gun and have my family, no matter how freaky that family was and live with my John for a few years of happiness. That was more precious than anything I have ever experienced, I’m so grateful to the witch for giving me that chance to move on and make a difference.

   She is a strange lady of the world and of nature, with skills of all types that make mine look like a child’s. How she came into being I don’t understand, I think God or the Goddess as she calls it, made her or is her mother. All I know, is that I’m so proud to have met her, have been able to call her my friend and have been able to stop my own personal wars and killing my enemies and change, a change I thought was impossible. Though haunted forever by what I did in battle, I accepted it for what it was and did move on, I wrote this book to tell my story. Now my time here isn’t long for my body is poisoned by radiation sickness and not even Juniper’s Daughter can heal me, the poison is too deep and in there for too long. I lost my dear John, my husband, five summers ago. My time is near now, I miss him and dedicate this small book to him, my son and most lost friends. My they find peace and exist in a better place now. I pray to I don’t know what, that my son lives a long life and he outlives me, though he will always be labelled a monster due to his horrific deformities from the radiation. This is why he lives in the basement under our house, a decision he chose and that I fully back.

   I could go on about the people I’ve killed, of the friends I’ve seen cut down by gun fire, of the evil I’ve seen on the streets of the surviving towns and cities in my country but I wont. I know more evil will follow my death and the publication of my book. My message in these pages is don’t kill, don’t pick up a knife or a gun to solve your disputes, simply talk about it. Sit down in a neutral place and work out a solution. People and our leaders didn’t do this in the wars I’ve participated in and seen. Please try to learn from this and if possible work with Juniper’s Daughter, other than your own actions, she is really your only hope. A single ally in a world torn apart by darkness and war; with her help we can all make it. I believe that single fact helps me get through the awful days while I’m ill and slowly dying.

   I had a fatal dose of radiation from multiple exposures in her body that would never be removed and so many charged particles were eating away at my bones, poisoning my blood and the rest of my body. I know so well how lucky I am, I’ve made it to middle age but don’t expect to live much longer, a couple of more painful years at best. My deformed child and this book will be my legacy I leave to you all and your world when I’m gone.

   On many dark evenings I have watched the radiation affect the sky, for some reason it plays tricks like little light shows in the sky, glowing and pulsating. Very odd and quite beautiful. I’m sure those same radioactive particles are killing me. How can something so evil be a nice sight to watch up in the sky? Especially on cold nights when the weather is changing and snow clouds are coming over the horizon. There must be some type of reaction from the bombs that fell on the nearby cities with the weather. I’m no scientist so I can’t really explain it. I assume the radiation that covers the land has a reaction with the weather particles and the snow or clouds. I shelter indoors when it comes my way; I have something like fifteen minutes before the cold front blew in over the ruined city in the valley and over my house. The pulsating light show went on for hours but I didn’t want to be poisoned more so I would sit them out, talking to my child in the cellar where we was safe. A couple of times when John was still alive we would watch the strange light shows in the sky together, it was really something. It was him who warned me that the radiation must have been causing the reaction in the sky, a kind of man-made aurora but I’ve never seen one of them so I can’t comment on the likeness. Yet auroras are harmless and when I was at school, like thirteen years old, my friend Katie went to north Norway coz she loved the music from over there, bands like Tristania and Sirenia. She went to see the bands live but also saw an aurora and she cried when she told me of the beauty of it. It pulsated high up in the sky, she said the moon was visible through it and the clouds were underneath it, kind of layered. She said it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. Sadly as I write this story and remember my friend Katie, I wish I had been with her to see the beauty in the sky, she died in the nuclear exchange with France and I never saw her after we left school. I don’t know exactly how she died, just a rumour that I was never able to check up on that she died when London was hit. I don’t know what she was doing there, maybe the same as Lee’s sister Deb who died protesting to stop the coming war. What did they die for, nothing I think? But those slain lives have to be for something right, what though? Freedom, an idea or for their country? No, that is bullshit. I won’t insult their names with that as a reason for their deaths. They died for themselves, their friends and families and a million others who they never knew. They died for one another and that means a whole lot to me. But again I say it, there must be another way; this is why the witch is here to help the misguided, save the lost and guide the innocent but above all to defeat evil and the Devil. If I, myself, who was once a powerful warrior along with my John, a freedom fighter fighting for England, can change direction then so can other people.

   In my life I have known pain, be it emotional when John died a few short years ago or before then, when my friends were killed in battle. Physical pain when I was shot during the Welsh campaign by a sniper; worse pain from the radiation poisoning my body in a battle I’ll certainly lose one day; I have spiritual pain from having nothing really substantial to believe in, I know Juniper’s Daughter is real and represents the Goddess of Nature but I need more than that. After seeing so much evil and death I question with all my being the existence of a higher power, if it exists then why did this entire episode of suffering and killing happen? Now alone, with my deformed monster of a child, I know real suffering. Horror is what we people do to one another for a variety of reasons. I won’t set the world to rights but I think my own actions weren’t necessary and so very wrong. The payback against me is the radiation suffering and flashbacks from seeing my friends killed and from murdering innocent people in the wars I’ve fought. I’m not proud of that but I accept my scars and price for the actions I did. I’ll be happy when I die and I’m with my John who I miss dearly every moment of every day…

 

   Juniper’s Daughter was extremely shocked from reading her old friend’s words on the pages in front of her. Mention of the acts of war Sarah had carried out and witnessed, embedded itself in the witch’s skull; she must never stop trying to eradicate this evil scourge from human kind. She smiled when she read about herself and the acts of faith, magic and mercy that she had carried out. The witch read the full book in little over an hour while the monster drank twelve bottles of stolen English army beer, it was content to relax and enjoy his drink as his friend the witch read his book. Finishing the book and handing it back to the monster, who opened his flap of deformed skin to return it to its home, the witch opened a new beer and raised a toast: “To us, to freedom, to defeating evil and the Devil and above all to your mother and my dear friend Sarah!” The monster raised his half empty bottle and repeated the words in a drunken voice, he was unable to smile due to his twisted deformed face but his eyes smiled with joy and then glistened over with sadness.

   “Tell me witch, why do people kill, why did my mother Sarah fight and do what she did? And why did she have to die? And why do I miss her so, even now years after she died?” asked the monster, unable to understand why such sadness could be possible even now, while his heart was full of love for his lost mother.

   “Well my dear friend that is a question I always ask myself. It’s so easy to blame the Devil and say evil is his doing, that he poisons the minds of men and blackens their hearts with hatred. Yes I’m sure he does that but it’s not quite so simple. Men, well people but mainly men, often make decisions not thinking things through and they act, often doing acts of evil and violence where people are killed and property destroyed. This is where war comes from, he often gives religion or other equally empty reasons as an excuse for these actions but I think greed, pride, hatred and other evil reasons are the real ones. Often the Devil will take advantage of the meek and easily led people to further his darkly evil aims, sometimes evil men actively seek out the Devil and make a pact with him to commit evil through their own free will. They are the most dangerous, the other type, the easily led, I can often help and guide back to the light if it’s not too late and they haven’t carried out acts of evil and killing. Then I have a small victory against the Devil and his evil deeds. Your mother believed in her heart, of a cause that she thought was right at the time, to her it was right and she was justified in her actions. However, we saw over time that she regretted her past actions of warfare and killing and changed her path, she had her own victory in herself against the forces of evil. You miss her because you love her still very much; you always will love her and thus will always miss her. Love is the highest form of power in the universe, true unconditional love, though evil can have strong short lived localised victories, it is true love that triumphs in the long term for it is slower burning but much longer lasting. It’s a natural balance for evil and the power of darkness wielded by the Devil. As a Goddess I represent Nature and true love and the forces of light. Do you want to speak to your mother? I can attempt to contact her through my psychic link, it maybe dangerous but I will try for you if you want,” explained the witch. She waited for the monster to take in her long explanation and think about talking to his mother, not face to face but by a joint cross over into another world, the witch to hers and Sarah to here. It was a risky undertaking, necessary under the circumstances.

   Suddenly the monster answered in a surprisingly clear and loud voice: “Yes Juniper’s Daughter please try and let me speak to my mother, I miss her so much. Do be careful.”

   “Okay then I will try and contact her. Please be patient, this may take sometime,” promised the witch closing her eyes. In her hand she held a magic crystal, her beer bottle was nowhere to be seen it was like it had just de-materialised. Clasping her special crystal tightly the witch began chanting special ceremonial words of some ancient dead language, vocal sounds unlike a normal human could say. Slowly at first, her rhythm rose and chanted faster until a steady beat of words came from Juniper’s Daughter, almost one continuous sound. Holding her crystal out she focused her power on it, slowly a midnight blue light glowed in the centre of it coming from some unknown place very far away channelling through the crystal. In time with her rapid pronunciation of her magical sayings, the stone pulsated as a circle of power was created, from the crystal a beam of light spread forth illuminating the curved wall of the flying disc’s cargo bay. The light wasn’t constant, it flickered like it was alive or the power feeding it fluctuated and wasn’t permanent. What did the witch experience to do this? Suddenly within the light new colours emerged, shades of green, violet and red taking hold and filling the space where the dark blue light had been, till it was gone replaced by the other dancing colours. Within the colours almost trapped there was a form of something or someone, was it a person or something more evil and sinister? Was it the Devil himself? Facial features came into view very slowly and hardly visible, the witch frowned deeply her breathing increased until she was labouring under the effort. In the pattern of light a woman was visible, she was young and pretty and smiling – it was Sarah! Not the middle aged radiation poisoned Sarah who died painfully before her time but a Sarah that Juniper’s Daughter remembered from so many years ago. If only she could leave the light maybe she could be young and live her life over again?

   “Hello Juniper’s Daughter, hello my dear child how I’ve missed you both,” Sarah spoke in a heavenly voice full of unconditional love. Her smiled beamed down positivity and happiness.

   “My dear Sarah you’ve returned, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or were able to. So much has happened here since your premature passing. How have you been?” whispered the witch, almost as if by keeping her voice low it would use less of her precious energy. Her eyes remained shut but she could still see by using her magical third eye.

   “Juniper’s Daughter, I am well but I don’t have long. I know the link uses much of your energy and this now isn’t my world, so I will soon be drawn back to my other world. I know much has occurred since my death, evil sweeps the land keeping you very busy. Tell me witch, are you winning the war?” Sarah replied her image flickering and almost blinking out as the link thinned then re-established itself.

   “Yes I was winning the war with the Devil. Recently things have been difficult and I have lost ground to my enemy. He seems more powerful than I remember. I will endure though and triumph in the end,” explained the witch, frowning. It was true what she said, the war was being lost. “And yes, I have enough energy for this my friend. I know your time is short by the nature of the event, of you being drawn here into our world. Tell me how is John, is he with you? And are your other friends there and your family from before the war?”

   “Yes John is here, we are together in spirit as forms of pure energy, white light. Lee and my other friends aren’t here for some reason, why I’m not sure. At first I sensed them but it was like something snatched them away. Do you know if it was the Devil? Is he able to battle here, to come here and to steal the souls of my friends? Can he do that? My family is around me but on that I can’t say any more in case evil takes them from here, from me. Not even you witch can stop that, nobody can, of that I’m sure,” Sarah cautiously said.

   “My dear its good your one true love John is with you, I feel you both belong together and are not complete unless you are as one. I have little or no influence in the spirit world Sarah because I’m earthbound, that is why I had to bring you here to our world. I would lose my mortal life and be trapped if I came through the portal into your world. Then evil and the Devil will sweep this land and claim it as theirs. But I will ask my Mother Juniper to watch over you in your spirit world so no more of your friends, family or loved ones are stolen by the Devil. I don’t think it’s him directly, I think he has dark angels who can briefly cross over from his world of darkness into your world of light. Be careful and never stop believing in true unconditional love, the most powerful force of creation. Only that can stop darkness Sarah. Please give my regards to John and your loved ones,” Juniper’s Daughter reassured Sarah.

   “Thank you witch, I would appreciate your Mother Juniper watching over us for I know you can’t. Be well my love. I need to speak to my child now.”

   The monster that was Sarah’s only child spoke in a gruff voice, “Mother, my dear mother how I miss you, everyday I think of you. I’m alone since death took you and I miss father too. Please tell him I think of him and wish I was with you both, for this world is still full of evil and death.”

   “I know my dear it is, please be careful. I will pass on your regards to your father. He misses you and wishes you well. I see scars on your body and sense emotional pain my child, what happened? I felt something was wrong but I couldn’t see what, something was blocking me from linking my distant presence with you even momentarily,” Sarah said her, form flickering dangerously again.

   “Mother, my enemy the English army took me prisoner from my house. They shot me and did other evil things to me and they destroyed our house, it’s no more. Juniper’s Daughter rescued me. If it wasn’t for her I’d still be their prisoner and probably be dead now,” the monster muttered sadly starting to cry due to his pain, both emotional and physical.

   “My child our enemy are bastards, in my time we defeated them but at such cost. I see the war continues. You witch have a lot to achieve, do look after my son this I order you to do. Promise me that task. And you son stay alert and alive, stay with the witch, she will protect you. I know you have nowhere else to go now. She now is your family and your friend.”

   “Yes mother, I will stay with Juniper’s Daughter. She helped heal my life threatening injuries the army did to me. I owe her my life.”

   “I promise to look after your child Sarah, I will never let him be hurt or captured again, I pledge my life to him that nobody will hurt him. Not the Devil or the English army, his home is with me now,” promised the witch, her face a grim mask under the immense pressure of keeping the link open that took her energy.

   “Thank you my friend, that is all I ask other than you keep up your fight against evil and…” Sarah urged the witch before the link was broken and the light show went out, sending Sarah’s spirit back across to the other side.

   “Oh my mother, I miss you please don’t go!” screamed the monster, tears flowing down his fierce twisted face now distorted with grief.

   “My dear it is okay, it’s fine. Your mother is well and with your father John. We were lucky the link remained open for so long. Now the question is answered where you go next, your mother charged me with your safety and well being. I’ll look after you. Is that okay.”

   “I have no option now but to stay with you, I now realise if I go out there into the world on my own the army will hunt me down and try to kill or capture me again. Yes I’ll stay here with you. I feel safe here. Maybe one day again in the future you can open the link and we can talk again to my mother?” agreed the creature, feeling a little better.

   “Yes my dear, in future when the time is right I will try again to open the link so we can talk to Sarah, your mother. Till then I’ll keep you safe, there is danger out there. You’re safe in here. Now I must open the link to my Mother, Juniper. This won’t take as much energy like before,” Juniper’s Daughter told him, again clasping her crystal. No lights shot forth this time, her dialogue was internal to her Mother, Juniper. She was the greatest Goddess of them all. Juniper was the only being capable of watching over Sarah, John and their loved ones, stopping evil taking them. Was Lee, along with Red and Gun Barrel, in hell now? If so, they were beyond help from the witch or even her Mother. Silence came over the cargo bay while the witch talked to her Mother over her internal psychic link.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kahlia Akasha’s Rise (The Jets From Nowhere)

 

   When traumatic events hang over a whole people wonderful things can be achieved and bare fruit. This was shown when the English army attacked Renford with a mixed flight of English army transports in the next stage of operations against the town and its people. Six military transports flew over, four troop carrying ones each armed with a normal machine gun and two special strike ones, each carrying a machine gun firing nuclear bullets; these two ships escorted the troop carriers on a search and destroy mission. They were met by two turboprop jet fighters tasked with defending the town and area, a vicious battle occurred with death and violence never seen before in the skies above town.

   The four troop carrying transports hugged the ground low for maximum surprise. Revenge burned in their conditioned military hearts, the two escort transports with their deadly nuclear machine guns rode shotgun ready for trouble. A plan had been put together to target certain selective areas around and in Renford, which would make it easier for the English army gain full control of the town in the near future when they launched the main assault. Brutal force was on the cards for attackers and defenders, no mercy would be given in the coming battle in the grey rainy skies that day. One target was Ernie the Worm’s train, with its old 40mm Bofors gun mounted on the back. He had given ineffective covering fire during the previous English army attack on Renford, his gun his fire being called down upon the APCs that sped up the main road to town. His fire would be more effective in the future because he had been practising with Frontier Corps observers the art of firing on a distant target to help stop an attack. This was useful practise but this time the English army second guessed him and came by air; would his fire be accurate against fast agile airborne targets? Soon this would be tested in practise, as a troop-carrying transport and one nuclear bullet armed one left the main formation to attack Ernie and his antique train in a bitter assault of war. Quickly out of sight over the rolling countryside they increased speed to attack velocity, the main formation was about to descend upon Renford town to do battle when the two experimental Aeroprogress T-720 fighters spotted them and dove to attack. They made one firing pass before the single remaining escorting transport turned to engage the attacking enemy aircraft. One was the original prototype built to old specifications while the other was an updated example with state of the art equipment on board. A crazy air battle commenced the troop carrying ships zig zagged desperately to put the speeding fighters off their aim and to try to survive. Who would win this first major engagement over Renford?

  

   Meanwhile the two craft directed to hit Ernie and his armed train came upon their target, thirty seconds warning was given by Corps observers stationed around the countryside but it wasn’t enough. Ernie was servicing his train at the time, he made a dash for his cannon pulling the tarpaulin cover off the gun and arming his weapon. Desperately Ernie fired a clip of five shells into the sky to hopefully throw the attacking English army transports off their aim. His high explosive 40mm shells zoomed up into the sky in the wrong direction; slewing his cannon round to track the enemy craft, he worked the elevation wheel at the same time. A Frontier Corps helper ran up and quickly climbed aboard the flat bed truck that the gun was mounted on, he took a clip of shells from the storage locker and slammed them into the gun. Ernie commented, “Thought you weren’t coming!”

   “I came earlier when I was watching one of your old porn videos. Beside that I’m here now, let’s shoot these cunts down. They disturbed my lie in,” replied the pissed off Corps man.

   “Fuck that, get me more ammo ready!” ordered Ernie the Worm, opening fire again with his old peashooter. Return machine gun fire spattered down around the two men kicking up grass and stone chippings, fanning out over the truck and thumping into the wood, missing them and the gun.

   “Fuck the twat, he just missed us! Next time he’ll be on target, he flew too fast then. If he comes in slower he’ll hit us but we’ll outrange him and shoot him down. We gotta hit him this time though! We fired ten shots and not one hit home,” Ernie gruffly moaned.

   “Just make sure you get him I don’t like being shot at. Here’s some more ammo!” shouted his mate loading the cannon. Up above the transport came in for another firing pass while the escort one circled above providing cover against any enemy fighters.

   “Load the damn gun then!”

   In a steep dive with the engine throttled back the transport came down locking them up on target by infrared. There would be no third firing pass, this was it. Ernie aimed best he could with his old metal site on the gun; he had no advanced targeting systems just his old gun site and his eyeballs. Clicking his firing selector to single shot he fired when the enemy craft was one mile away, at the same time they opened fired. Who would draw first blood? Their first shell zoomed forth and exploded two hundred feet past the transport, a miss! A second shell soon followed, exploding fifty feet away sending jagged shards of shrapnel in the general direction of the transport. Two bits of metal pierced the main troop cabin fortunately missing the dozen soldiers and single large Devil Snail attack unit aboard. Their own machine gun fire fell like rain drops around Ernie with no mercy; a loud scream came forth when the Corps observer was hit in the chest by a single high speed bullet, it cut through his body armour like it wasn’t there. An armour piercing round! A look of pure terror appeared on the Corps man’s face before he fell over dead, now there was no one to get more ammo!

   Ernie swore and fired another shell at the diving enemy; a continuous rain of bullets fell around Ernie and several bounced from his cannon sending angry sparks in all directions. His third shell never exploded, it was a misfire. If it would have gone off it would have riddled the transport with shrapnel possibly bringing it down, instead it flew for several miles before impacting in an overgrown meadow, harmlessly. With two shells left in his clip of shells, Ernie knew he couldn’t miss now. He pressed the trigger again as more bullets hit his flat bed truck, his cannon and himself. Who would be hit first, Ernie or the transport craft? Because the Devil was the boss of the English army, it was Ernie the worm who was hit first! His fucking head was blown off by three armour-piercing bullets fired from the machine gun on the transport. His single 40mm shell exploded next to the craft and damaged it. Shrapnel from the shell sliced through the passenger cabin side again, this time there was more of it due to the shell going off much closer. Fourteen bits of jagged metal peppered the diving craft killing and wounding several soldiers in the cabin; the explosive blast wave buffeted the craft dangerously almost sending it crashing into the ground. The pilot pulled out only feet above the earth but he had achieved his mission. Their tactics could have been better; the nuclear bullet armed craft should have destroyed the gun and steam train from medium range where there was less risk of being hit. 

   The pilot climbed back up and circled, scanning the area with his infrared sensor and picked up only fading body heat from two dead people – Ernie and his helper. Radioing for the nuclear bullet armed ship to shoot the place up, he withdrew to a safe area to land so first aid could be carried out on the wounded and damage assessed on his transport. Over the radio to his commander, the pilot discussed tactics in real-time, he used the wrong ones and honestly told his officer this so he or anyone wouldn’t make the error again. It was stupidly suicidal to shoot at a medium range cannon with a short range machine gun, this was why the nuclear bullet gun had been made to fire from up to three miles away, not close range where one could be shot down more easily.

   The nuclear bullet armed transport broke its circular orbit from where it had been guarding the troop carrying craft; it circled the scene at three-mile range. Not drawing any enemy fire it closed to two miles and opened fire, sending four nuclear bullets down on the steam train and flat bed truck with the gun on the back. After that it targeted the railway track and old house/station where Ernie lived. A total of twelve nuclear bullets were fired leaving total destruction, indeed each was a mini nuclear bomb having the same affects but on a much smaller scale. The old locomotive broke into two and cart wheeled through the air like an unwanted children’s toy. The flat bed truck was nothing except wrenched and broken metal with a stump remaining where the gun had been, of the two corpses nothing remained both had been vaporised. Mini mushroom clouds rose over the area and in a delayed reaction explosion, one year’s worth of forty-millimetre ammunition exploded in a blast as big as several of the nuclear bullets combined. A dirty yellow sulphurous cloud rose up while debris coiled through the air on smoky fingers adding to the growing mushroom cloud, blast waves rocked the outskirts of Renford in this wicked assault. Both transport craft were well out of range from the blast waves from the exploding bullets and ammo supply, it had been a successful strike. Not perfect but very good and lessons had been learnt. Now for the next target after the injured soldiers had been patched up, the Frontier Corps compound.

 

   The main group of a single nuclear bullet armed craft and three troop carrying ones were tasked to raid the Medusa Weapons Facility. This is where the two Aeroprogress prototypes had taken off from to do battle, intercepting the enemy craft. On the first firing pass both jets fired their fixed weapons – the old design carried a twin barrel 30mm cannon firing mixed ammunition and the new design had a basic laser weapon with a single barrel and one shot capability before it needed a minute to recharge, hardly ideal but better than nothing.

   One transport craft was hit outright and destroyed by heavy 30mm shells, the laser cannon was hard to aim with the new state of the art aiming equipment. It was good kit but it took time to learn how to use it and time was not available, so the unskilled pilot missed his first shot which burnt the grass down below setting off a small grass fire. Aboard the hit craft, soldiers screamed when shells exploded on and inside the fragile guinea pig shaped hull, more fire hit the newly armour plated methane fuel tank igniting an explosion that tore the craft apart like a huge bomb. The fuel tank was bullet proof to small arms fire but not to 30mm armour piercing shells, let alone explosive ones. Fiercely burning wreckage fell slowly earthwards. First blood to the Frontier Corps in aerial combat in the defence of Renford but it wasn’t all one way; rapidly turning to re-attack both aircraft were pursued by the nuclear bullet armed craft. It could only shoot at one airplane at once for the nuclear bullet machine gun was a fixed line of sight weapon and a moveable weapon design was in the near future and not yet ready for service. The old design T-720 twisted and turned, looping and rolling to the best of the new pilot’s ability, dangerously the air combat configured transport stuck to his tail like glue. The army pilot tried to manoeuvre the jet into the ground but the T-720 pilot was wise to this and climbed for height so he wouldn’t crash. When he was climbing steeply, the nuclear bullet craft dropped back to one-mile distance and fired a brace of nuclear bullets aimed by infrared/ultraviolet aiming system. The two nuclear bullets hit the fighter and exploded with the total force of twenty tons of high explosive; a bright nuclear flash/fireball blinded the immediate area and circular blast waves zoomed out for over a mile. The nuclear bullet armed transport manoeuvred agilely out of the way of danger, the pilot had opened fire much two close. His craft risked serious danger or destruction too close, in future any engagements had to be at two-mile range but close in manoeuvring was allowed if the opponent could be forced into the ground.

   The newer remaining Aeroprogress fighter wanted revenge after the destruction of his wingman; he looped and went in to re-attack, vengeance burning in his soul. He selected one of the troop transports hugging the ground that this radar picked up and fired two air-to-air missiles. Not quick enough to stop the attack, the nuclear bullet armed transport fired at the jet but it was four miles away and out of effective range, the shots fell down onto open fields and exploded in huge earth shattering blasts. Two missiles arrowed onto a troop transport, it saw them too late as it began a high-speed defensive turn. An explosion signalled a hit, was it shot down?

    Curving around in a huge circle, putting many miles between it and the nuclear bullets armed craft, the jet fighter pilot selected his single laser cannon, this time he would make sure he wouldn’t miss with his one shot. He prayed he wouldn’t be shot down like his colleague. Fine tuning his infrared search and track system he turned his radar to standby so it wouldn’t be picked up; the new laser aiming system would aim the weapon after the IR system picked up the target. A second ranging laser would give back up range info, this time it was do or die. His two remaining missies would be used on his next pass.

   Where are you? he queried. There! Two remaining troop transports still hugging the ground and no sign of their escort, got to be careful, here we go. Picked them up by eyeball, now on infrared range coming up just outside max laser range of three miles, laser aiming system online now backed up by a ranging laser linked to the IR site to give full coverage and overkill. In range now! Hold fire, not yet, not yet let the bastards come a bit closer, I’ll get the one on the left, thought the pilot and then come back and lay missile fire down to bring the last troop one down. How to deal with the specially armed one? I’ll have to entice him over the missile sites so they can get a shot off, failing that I’ll ram the cunt. Zooming down at six hundred miles an hour, laser system in the green, a quick check for the other escort transport, no sign of him – now! Press the trigger to send a single pulse of highly focused laser energy to the target but hell! He turned along with his comrade to actually face me! They’re attacking, I don’t believe it. Did I hit him? Got a minute till I can re-attack with the laser, missile time, selecting missiles but too close to engage have to turn out and increase the range and turn back to get them. Smoke or something coming from the transport on the left side, from the back end, I must have hit him he’s too far away to fire at me that will be a mile range with their normal nose mounted machine guns. Time to roll out to disengage so they can’t hit me in a pincer movement. Where’s that escorting transport with that big gun? Radar back online full air-to-air scan, nothing. Turn so I can cover the sky in each quarter, there he is! Coming in from six miles, soon he will fire, time to lock him up but not the troop carriers. Where are they? They’re climbing up to me and firing now, green tracer fire slowly reaching up to me but falling away, I’m out of range! They both turn back to their original heading and cross the outskirts of Renford, time for a single missile at this boy. Think through the actions – radar locked on with a solid lock, infrared system backing it up if he should jam me, missile lock on showing on the computer display, ideal range coming up, time for launch, now! Press the trigger and one medium range radar guided missile leaves the port wing rail and arcs to the target on a tail of fire. Escorting transport still coming to me, he’ll fire his big gun soon and get me. Time to go back to town and stop the other boys who’ll soon be attacking. What will their target be? Got to be the Medusa place where my plane was made or the Frontier HQ. I’ll cover both places; I’ll orbit in a figure of eight pattern with both circles of the eight over either facility. With just one missile left I’ll try to get one, let’s hope the ground-based defences get the other before it lands and disgorges its troops to attack, planned the surviving pilot.

 

   In the cockpit of the nuclear bullet armed transport, the pilot flew for his life to dodge the incoming radar guided missile that sped towards him at two thousand miles an hour. He fired six nuclear bullets at it but the missile moved too fast and was too small for the targeting system to successfully track it. His shots fell onto open fields and an old derelict farm on the outskirts of town, creating huge explosions with blast waves that were visible for miles. A suicidal roll at full speed almost overstressed his small craft followed by a sudden swerve into a climbing turn defeated the missile which turned to follow his crazy last ditch manoeuvre, following partly but being unable to turn after the craft. The computer brain inside the missile now triggered the warhead to detonate, fifty pounds of state of the art explosive went off sending a spherical blast wave and tungsten metal fragments out in all directions. Out of reach of the blast but touched by six small fragments the escort nuclear bullet arms transport was badly damaged and out of the fight. Small holes were punched in the methane fuel tank but mercifully the armour plate slowed the shrapnel’s speed down and the self sealing covering ensured the leaks were small. Fuel loss was still serious negating the mission, meaning a return to base while the ship was still flying. Radioing his base on the encrypted radio, the army pilot throttled back and flew as slow as he dared to save fuel and not crash. It looked good he would get back. He would give a detailed report on his air combat with the new fighters that defended the town to his superiors.

 

   The two transports that had destroyed Ernie the Worm’s train joined the main formation; the troop carrier was damaged with casualties aboard but still fully mission capable. Flying over the outskirts of town the troop craft opened fire with their nosed mounted machine guns, harassing the population and hopefully killing some of them. The single nuclear bullet armed craft held fire for his weapon was much too powerful at close quarters. If any missiles defences were spotted he would take them out while the troop craft flew a few miles to safety out of danger range of the missiles and nuclear bullets. Return fire from the ground, fired by people with guns and from a couple of machine gun posts under the flight path of the English army craft, gave a good moral booster and all missed! Everyone in town knew the attack was under way, that no more waiting was necessary, the enemy was here!

   Damaged by laser fire with a wounded pilot, a failing computer, smashed flight control systems and hit engine that only gave cruise power, one transport craft couldn’t keep up in formation. He radioed he was putting down before he crashed with the loss of his troops, Devil Snail attack unit and ship. Pulling his nose up to flare in for a landing he ordered his troops and officer to be ready for a hard landing and for anything. People watched from inside buildings, on roofs and on the street as the damaged craft pull up and land heavily in the middle of a main road, kicking up dirt and dust from the damaged engine. Hardly stopping before it skidded to a halt, with one landing skid collapsed and tilting over like a damaged egg, the door popped opened and troops started to poor out. Gunfire fell amongst them and hit the crippled transport, sparking off the side of the hull and cracking the nose cockpit glass. Heavier bullets found the craft, this time piercing the hull, working their way back till the methane fuel tank was hit, defeating the armour and entering within. Several soldiers disregarded the order to establish a perimeter around the downed ship, they knew the fuel would blow up and ran for their lives. Boom! The fuel went up taking with it the wounded pilot in the cockpit and three of the soldiers including their officer, many others were injured by the blast and flames. What soldiers could return fire with their automatic weapons cutting down civilians and gangsters alike that came to see what was happening or to take part in the battle. One soldier set lose the large Devil Snail attack unit to kill anything and everyone who was not English army, it aggressively ran forth, blue laser fire coming from its eyes cutting down two dozen people. Some had guns, most didn’t. This was total war; the fire aimed at the soldiers slackened somewhat and they withdrew from the burning craft. Two men too injured to move were shot dead by their comrades. The soldiers would attack targets of opportunity, especially the gun shop that was rumoured to be down the side streets. Ordering the Devil Snail to advance ahead they went looking for the gun shop owned by Big Jake.

 

   The surviving transports flew over the Medusa Weapon facility and attacked immediately, machine-gunning gun emplacements and a single missile site that fired blindly, its weapons missing. The crew manning the weapons were killed or injured outright, other men hurried to make phone and radio calls to the gangsters, Frontier Corps headquarters and anyone else who was able to help to send assistance, the facility was under attack!

   The nuclear bullet armed ship climbed for height and orbited up above to give air defence and spot any armed people or vehicles coming to aid in the defence of the facility, his firepower would destroy anything. Two remaining transports landed and unleashed their troops and two Devil Snails to cause havoc. There wasn’t a full compliment of two-dozen men, some were injured or killed by ground fire or from attacking Ernie’s old cannon. Those soldiers that were fighting fit ran to three doors that were the entrance to one part of the Medusa Weapons Facility. The doors were locked so two groups with Devil Snails had them use their lasers to melt the doors open, the other group tried to blast their way through.    

   Up above the single orbiting escort transport picked up the approaching Aeroprogress fighter, he fired several nuclear bullets set for airburst to scare off or damage the approaching jet. At same moment the pilot in the jet fired his laser cannon at the transport, would they hit each other or would both weapon discharges miss?

   The Kahlia Akasha Goddess named jet had a better weapon in regards speed on target for a laser beam travelled at the speed of light, arriving on target almost instantaneously but the job to achieve being on target was hard, the target aiming system was too complex. If the pilot survived this engagement he wanted it removing or greatly simplifying.

   No problem in the armed assault transport whose aiming system operated in two invisible light bands – infrared and ultraviolet, originally designed to find and track Juniper’s Daughter’s flying saucer. He locked up the distant jet fighter just about maintaining a lock, its stealth qualities were excellent and it had a very low IR signature, giving off almost no heat. In the ultraviolet spectrum it showed up quite clearly; this was enough for a lock on at close/medium range and good enough to fire air burst nuclear bullets at long range so the jet would fly into them.

   The grey transport was hit by the edge of the laser beam, not a direct hit but enough to damage it by burning through the paint, scorching the metal and melting through the upper hull of the troop compartment breaching the pressurised insides. Fortunately there were no soldiers in or they would be toast. Burning bits of metal fizzed and fell away in the slipstream leaving a large jagged hole. Aerodynamic buffeting affected the transport’s flight performance greatly reducing its speed and agility, if the jet got onto its tail it would shoot it down for a hard kill and not just damage it. Radioing it was damaged and out of the fight, the transport turned to Renford and slowly climbed for height; if wouldn’t head for home or it would be shot down. No, it had more evil intentions, in its weapon magazine were eighty-six nuclear bullets and these would be fired mercilessly onto the town randomly at maximum rate of fire.

   The Aeroprogress T-720 Kahlia Akasha jet fighter was heavily damaged by the exploding nuclear bullets whose flash almost blinded the pilot, his dark vision visor on his helmet saved his sight. Shock waves reached out at the speed of sound, shaking his warplane and upending it sending it into a death spiral towards the ground; the engine coughed and cut out in the vacuum of air following the shockwaves. Bits of access panels fell away from the fuselage revealing vulnerable innards, one of the front canard control surfaces was ripped away, fluttering down like a broken butterfly. Cracks spread over the cockpit canopy which almost failed under the stress, the nose wheel landing gear hydraulics failed allowing the wheel to come half down into the slipstream slowing the jet to stall speed. Aboard the jet every single electronic computer system, display and avionics went offline, dead, as did the flight control system which was fibre optic controlled. Falling to earth the pilot was almost knocked unconscious; in his wounded warplane he had seconds to eject or try to force land, would he live?

   Now over the town centre at three thousand feet, the highest the escort transport could fly level in its damaged state, the pilot pressed the trigger and fired every one of his nuclear bullets. Some were set to airburst following his air battle; quickly clicking ground burst option, he watched his shells fly three miles before exploding in the air or on the ground when he pushed the nose of his craft dangerously downwards. His airspeed increased madly and wind blast whistled and ripped into the damaged cargo section threatening to rip his craft apart. Instead of controlling his descent by throttling back he advanced his single throttle from maximum power to emergency power, forcing his methane rocket engine into overdrive. Thirty seconds of this would blow the engine and his craft up but he didn’t have thirty, he had little more than six seconds. He followed his exploding nuclear bullets that detonated with the force of ten tons of normal explosive on a defenceless town, wrecking shops, houses, offices, pubs, clubs, roads and people. Thousands of people were killed in the wicked barrage of nuclear bullets, two hundred more died when the stricken transport and its suicidal pilot thundered through the roof of Gothic Night nightclub where an alternative music night was being held. Among those killed were Denise the tattooed lady of the night, Jason martial arts expert who sold old tour t-shirts, Rolo the huge fat security bodyguard, ultra talented singer Katie Kat from the gothic metal band Gothic Sunrise and dozens more who lived and thrived in the Gothic Quarter. Among a hundred or so critically wounded was Craig who ran his small shop, it was fifty-fifty if he would live. Nothing remained of the club except a huge crater and rubble, blast damage smashed many other pubs, bars and properties in the area, not to mention almost total destruction wrought by the nuclear bullets. It would take years to repair the damage, indeed never if the will wasn’t there. The English army had drawn much blood on this evil mission, which wasn’t over yet, not by a long way.

   Coming to, in his spinning crippled warplane, the pilot attempted to radio his base but the radios were dead, shaking his head he pushed his control stick fully forward bringing online the manual back up system that was an emergency once only get you down function. Seeing an overgrown field on the edge of town he pushed the nose down, desperately trying to maintain airspeed, he had already stalled and spun one time another time would be his end. His engine was still on but not in working order, shutting it down manually and closing off the fuel supply to help reduce fire risk, he popped the circuit breaker even though no power flowed through any of the systems. Lower and lower over the rough grass, a tragic shadow getting larger until impact! Bouncing once losing and three of the eight blades of the rear propeller, catching a wingtip and snapping off the vertical fin at the tip swung the fighter round, sending it careering backwards through an old stone wall smashing bits off it and shaking the pilot. Spinning, bouncing and finally coming to a halt after a hundred metre free for all over the grass the jet was still. Fumes from a ruptured fuel tank slowly wafted into the air and into the broken cockpit lulling the pilot whose face mask had been torn off. Almost falling asleep he would be burned to death if the fumes caught fire, a brave woodcutter from a nearby copse of trees ran forward with an axe. He smashed at the tough plastic cockpit finally breaking through where it was cracked and making a hole big enough to free the rear-seated pilot. The front cockpit was empty. Using his razor sharp knife to cut the pilots five-point harness he slapped the man on the face to wake him. Cutting his umbilicals that connected him to the aircraft he was now free. Cursing, the woodcutter struggled to lift the semi conscious man out of this ruined aircraft, after minutes of struggling he did it and carried him ten yards over the grass in case the fuel or weapons caught fire. Would further assistance come from the town to the shot down aircraft and pilot?

 

   Several English army soldiers advanced down a street accompanied by a single Devil Snail, they all fired randomly into windows, through open doorways and at people who crossed their path. Coming to Big Jake’s gun shop they read the sign above the shop, “Pistol Packin, Mamma’s”, this was the place! Ordering the Devil Snail to find a way inside, the soldiers unpacked satchel charges of high explosive to blow the shop up as one man stood guard. Another soldier looked at the thick armoured glass of the windows; he fired a single bullet at it. A bad mistake for it sparked off and just missed him. Given time, the Devil Snail would be able to laser the windows. Walking over to look inside the same soldier had the surprise of his life. A landmine exploded and blew him to pieces, showering his comrades with his body parts, at this same time the roof mounted laser cannon popped up out of its housing and open fire on the soldiers, missing but forcing them to flee round the corner. It wasn’t an accurate weapon but it put the wind up them. A soldier primed a heavy satchel charge and threw it past the corner to the front of the shop. The laser fired and missed again. The charge was on a three second fuse, exploding when it landed and blowing in the heavily armoured window on one side but not touching the huge steel blast door that covered the entrance. Ordering the Devil Snail back round the front to take out the laser if the blast hadn’t destroyed it, the soldiers would soon gain entrance into BJ’s shop to blow it up, along with the guns, ammo and machinery inside. If the owner and his son were here they would die too.

   Big Jake was jolted awake by loud alarms going off, not his alarm clock but the ones signalling his shop was under attack! Reaching under his triple size pillow he withdrew a large pistol called the “Pussy Tickler” and fell out of bed, shouting to his son in the next room, “Hey you lazy fucker, wake up we’re under attack! Get your gun and join me!”

    “Shit! What the hell is going on? Attack by who?” a sleepy voice called back.

   “How the fuck do I know? It must be the English army. Hurry up!” ordered BJ, plodding over to peer out of his bedroom door, just then a muffled explosion indicated one of the landmines at the front of the shop had gone off. His son joined him, holding a gun with only his fingers, almost like he didn’t want to be part of his dad’s weapon empire; was it too violent? Another much louder blast shook the entire building; the satchel charge blew in one of the two-inch thick armoured windows with a huge bang, smoke and debris reached the back rooms where the two men were. BJ knew it wasn’t good, that only military grade explosives could blast through his specially made defences. Battle was upon them!

   Running down the corridor he ordered his son to take up position in the opposite doorway and to fire only if he had a clean shot at a target. If the shop was in danger of being overrun or his father was killed he was to hide in the “armoured suitcase”, a hiding place built into the concrete floor of the basement. Here they come, thought BJ, watching a soldier awkwardly climb through the space where the window had been. BJ slowly aimed and fired a single bullet from his experimental gun the “Pussy Tickler”. Hearing the gunshot the soldier looked up at the same time as a huge 15mm solid steel bullet impacted his face, this stopped the man dead in his tracks blowing his head clean off his shoulders and blocking the narrow opening. His remaining comrades struggled to remove the body, BJ saw the body move and knew it was the other soldiers attempting to gain entry; he fired two more heavy rounds into the body punching huge holes in it. The body was still, he must have hit one or scared them.

   One soldier who was just missed by the two huge bullets readied another satchel charge on a longer fuse to blast the body clear and kill anyone nearby in the shop who was resisting and then the Devil Snail attack unit would be sent in to finish them off, allowing the soldiers to blow up the entire premises. The Devil Snail had successfully shot out the roof mounted laser cannon with its own superior laser weapons without harm to itself. Risking the landmines the soldier ran to the blocked window opening, jamming the charge in next to the body; he’d already pulled the pin to prime the fuse which fizzed as it burnt. Turning and running, he set off a landmine but due to his forward momentum he got away with just losing he left leg below the knee. The blast blew him forwards onto his front by the corner of the wall, crying in pain he awkwardly crawled on his belly leaving a trail of blood from his shattered stump. Now he could be called stumpy! He was just around the corner when the satchel charge went off, shredding the body of the dead soldier and blowing the bits of body parts into the shop like flying confetti. A powerful blast wave expanded into the building doing horrific damage, smashing glass display cabinets holding guns and ammunition, upending a huge seventy-inch plasma entertainment centre, shattering a glass fish tank holding two hundred exotic tropical fish and wounding BJ with flying debris. His son was blown to the floor but unhurt.

   Raising his pistol, BJ fired the remaining three bullets in his gun blindly through the smoke. Shouting for his son to open fire, BJ attempted to reload but his right hand was broken so he struggled in great pain to put two bullets into the gun, one for him and one for an enemy. He heard hesitant gunfire from down the corridor that would be his son firing. What a thing for the lad to experience, mused Big Jake. He knew this line of business had its risks.

   The large Devil Snail approached the window, stepping carefully avoiding any live mines. Reaching the opening it leapt up in one fast graceful movement and entered the building to terminate any defenders. Laughter echoed forth, making the two remaining soldiers glance uncertainly at each other; then gunfire, screams and silence. Only one soldier was able to enter the shop, the other was the man who stepped on the mine and lost a leg. Taking two satchel charges with him he followed the attack unit into the building, his machine pistol ready. The place was a ruin, blast had trashed it but the machinery where the guns were made had to be destroyed. Checking for bodies the soldier walked slowly up to the Devil Snail, it had just killed a big fat man who still held a huge pistol of unknown make. Hearing movement on the lower floor the soldier raised his gun but the Devil Snail was on the go, pouncing on BJ’s son who made it to the “armoured suitcase” and was trying to shut the door. The attack unit fired its lasers at a hand that was visible in the gap before the door was shut; hideous screams and cries filled the steel box when it was secure. The Devil Snail had a little plan that it put into action; it turned the power of its lasers down so they wouldn’t burn straight through the one-inch metal box, it would heat up. It was cooking time! Twin streams of blue low power laser light converged on the door of the steel box, burning through the floor covering that hid it from view, reaching the metal slowly warming it. Over the next five minutes, BJ’s son was baked alive in his own secure little oven. After three minutes his ammunition in his gun started to explode in his tomb.

   By this time the single able bodied soldier had set a single satchel charge in the basement, past the cooker where the lad was dying an awful death. Lathes, metal working equipment, bullet making gear, chemical mixing machines and other specialised machinery would be wrecked and the ceiling brought down. The charge was on a one minute fuse; going upstairs with the Devil Snail he casually threw the other satchel charge to the back of the main room in the front of the shop where a hundred weapons were on display. Everything would be smashed beyond use; quickly leaving the shop the soldier dragged his wounded comrade out of the blast range, with difficulty. The Devil Snail attack unit grabbed the material of his trousers to move the casualty quicker, just in time! Bang! Both charges went off in a huge explosion, collapsing the whole building and not just the inner floors. The wall on the street bulged and suddenly collapsed, spewing red bricks, wood, debris and broken guns onto the road. They moved just in time!

   Radioing headquarters the English army soldier gave a hurried update confirming the destruction of the specialised gun shop and death of its owners. Now no more specialised guns would be made here, one less danger to the main assault wave when it came to take over the town.

   The wounded soldier was bleeding badly. With its low power setting lasers the Devil Snail cauterised the wounded area, stopping the blood and sealing it against infection and making the wounded soldier scream angrily. His colleague kept a look out for enemy fighters who must be on their way but that was okay, it would mean more targets to engage. Where next to destroy? While the other thought it over, the wounded soldier with the much of his leg missing sat up, struggled to stand on one leg and sat on the back of the Devil Snail. The attack unit’s steel inner skeleton easily coped with the two hundred pound plus weight. Checking his hand held digital map, the soldier got their whereabouts and picked another target of opportunity, somewhere nearby where damage and death could be inflicted – the Left Nipple swinging club just down the road, a perfect target!

 

   At the Medusa Weapons Facility the English army was having the fight of its life, the group who tried to blast the steel blast door with satchel charges had failed to get in. This group would wait outside as a reserve force and enter when needed. Both groups who used Devil Snails to laser the huge doors got inside, meeting horrific counter fire from the defenders in the rabbit warren of corridors. The soldiers took casualties as soon as they entered so they issued the infamous command, “Send in the Devil Snails!” Away both attack units went clearing a path for the attackers doing their task with glee, lasering dozens of defenders who fired back with a variety of weapons hitting the attack units but not even damaging them. Being bullet proof inside, the Devil Snails were in their element in close quarter battle, no hold barred combat.

   When the return fire directed against the soldiers slackened, they cautiously followed the paths cleared by their Devil Snails inside the facility; it was a huge place with hundreds of rooms mainly underground. Only a fraction could be taken and held but that didn’t matter, their mission profile was to destroy not occupy and to reduce the defenders ability to make war when the main attack force came. Entering small rooms off the corridor they walked down, English army soldiers quickly looked for things to destroy and booby trap with time delay explosives. One room had a glass gun cabinet full of machine guns and other weapons, a small time bomb on the side would ruin it. In a second room was a radio terminal complete with dead operator slumped over the controls, a burst of nine millimetre gunfire ruined this equipment. To another room where computers and other advanced design equipment, with running operatives fleeing for their lives. Machine gunfire cut them down like wheat at harvest time, grenades blasted apart their valuable equipment and time bombs would take care of the bigger stuff.

   Sporadic return fire came back from defended positions. When they could accurately hit them, the soldiers returned fire or threw a grenade, if not the Devil Snails went at it killing without mercy to clear the way. Slowly but surely the English army was wrecking what it could of the Medusa Weapons Facility, the first soldiers were being hit in return for this success. Those badly wounded remained where they fell with a grenade, with the pin removed, under their pain-wracked bodies. No mercy for anyone including any medics from the facility tending the wounded afterwards. If all of the soldiers were killed if was up to the two Devil Snails to destroy what they could before they themselves were destroyed or disabled by heavier weapons. If disabled they had their own internal self-destruct explosive, it would add to the carnage. Where were the defenders when needed, other than the ones already based in the facility due to the crisis?

   A group of gangsters came to the facility late, the falling nuclear bullets had somewhat delayed them and depleted their numbers. They were armed and in a bad mood, ready for a fight. Coming to the compound they spotted the parked up English army transports but no soldiers other than the two pilots who remained in their cockpits monitoring the radio net. This was a good enough target for the gangsters, now it was time to earn their free weapons and ammo that they had been given. Running to the two transports, the seven gangsters all fired their machine guns, pistols and rifles at the big fat vulnerable craft. Bullets sparked off their hulls, kicked up dirt and penetrated the cargo section and fuel tanks. The resulting twin explosions blew the gangsters flat on their backsides and cremated the flight crews of the transports; now the surviving soldiers were trapped with no escape. An army guard detail from the reserve force should have protected the two craft, now it was too late to save their transport home. Getting up and dusting themselves down, the gangsters smiled with glee, this was fun! Jogging on to the main facility they prepared to do battle, it was then the reserve force that opened fire killing three gangsters and forcing the others to go to ground, ambushing them. This delayed their assistance to those under attack in the facility but this was fine, a battle was a battle and the four remaining gangster boys fired back, hitting a soldier. Soon their ammo became low and they had no grenades, unlike the soldiers who threw two of the wicked eggs, these exploded killing two gangsters and wounding the other two. Firing the last of their ammo and wounding two soldiers, they withdrew before they were overrun, in search of more weapons and not caring about their injuries. If they found more guns they would be back, that shouldn’t take too long…

   Inside the building the soldiers were blowing things up, setting time bombs and killing and being killed. Only six men were left in fighting order, the radio net link signal from their transport craft suddenly stopped so they assumed the worst; that their two transports had been blown up and now they were stuck here on a suicide mission. More determined than ever, they used their training and weapons to full affect, their main prize being the Kahlia Akasha design/production facility. It was a main target but it was too far inside for the soldiers to reach it – the Devil Snails would attempt to do so and attack it. The soldiers had already met two Aeroprogress T-720 Kahlia Akasha jets in aerial combat, losing some craft and men to their wicked weapons; imagine if there had been twenty of them airborne, the army attack would’ve been defeated.

   Coming to a valuable target after fighting off a fierce defence by six Frontier Corps guards, the soldiers entered a huge storage room full of small missiles, artillery guns, missile launchers and other useful weapons. Sending one Devil Snail in to laser the missile guidance units, making them useless, was a good idea if done correctly; laser beams could set off the rocket fuel or warheads. Also lasered were the artillery guns whose barrels were sawn off by laser energy, this saved using many small time bombs but as a back up a single satchel charge was placed in the room on a one-hour delay. When it exploded it would set off the other missile warheads by its own shock waves. Onto other rooms deeper inside the building, now soldiers were being hit one after another, their mission was drawing to a close with ammo running low and no way back. Orders were issued and the men divided up what ammo was left and went off on individual suicide missions to kill and destroy as much as possible, a radio message was sent to the reserve squad outside, “Our force is being destroyed, four men left, have divided up ammo to go off on individual suicide missions. Don’t come and help, repeat don’t come and help. Have planted many time bombs and satchel charges on time delay. Do as much damage and killing as you can on targets on the surface, try for the stored rockets and tanks in semi recessed bunkers above ground. Good luck! Long live the English army!” It was the last radio message sent and the soldiers never saw each other again.