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A Platoon had been given the escort honours. Nole had them fallen in up topside, where they were waiting for their Warrior APC to emerge from the cargo lift. An entire armoured contingent was contained somewhere down below, with enough APCs for a decent armoured infantry strike and enough self propelled artillery pieces to lay down a withering barrage of fire.

Then there was the whine of the rising lift as the first vehicle slowly came into view, before rolling off the platform and onto the dusty ground a coming to a stop on the hardened concrete of the road. The Warriors were impressive pieces of kit. They had been manufactured on Leeds itself before the war, but with priority being given to the Navy for construction facilities, blueprints for all of the Armys kit had been outsourced to Liberty and Reinland.

There was a small pop from Noles headset that brought him back to the world. Captain, this is Foxtrot-oh-one-niner. Were here to give you a lift, over.

Copy that. Well embark then we can be off. Switching communications frequency he addressed Corporal Mills and Andrews. Right, get your sections loaded up; were ready to move out. The rear loading ramp then ground open, coinciding neatly with Nole's order and blowing up a cloud of dust as it touched down on the floor. The men of 1 section then clambered into the space inside with 2 section moving to the third and final Warrior of the convoy. The centre vehicle being occupied by the Royal Engineer unit.

Sir, this is Mills. 2 section embarked were ready to move, over.

Copy that. Giving the order to move. Nole knocked twice on the access plate to the drivers compartment. After a moment the metal plate was slid aside to reveal a middle aged man with a light beard. He was wearing a Staff Sergeants stripes and crown. Ready to move Staff. All units are embarked.

Right you are sir. Well need a man up top on the turret though. We can control the cannon from down here, but we need someone on the 40. Cal. New orders you see with the new invasion risk, weve got to have weapons manned while moving in the open. Nole nodded before turning back to the compartment. The other seven men were huddled around the edge of the compartment on benches built into the Warriors walls.

One of you needs to man the turret. Its a long journey so well be on rotation. His voice sounded tinny and distorted through the helmets voice broadcaster.

Will you be on that rotation? Sir. That was Killen. He had a reputation for unruliness and snide comments.

Yes I will private. And I suppose that means you just volunteered for first shift? Off you go. There were a few laughs. Resignedly Killen hauled himself to his feet and climbed the small ladder in the centre of the compartment to the turret.

The driver looked back. Feel free to take the helmet off while youre in here. The hulls pressurised so there wont be any toxins getting in.

Three hours into the journey, Nole began his first shift. Clambering up the ladder, hed fastened the faceplate of his Hazard suit back on before pulling the hatch shut beneath him. The subdued noise of talking soldiers was immediately sealed off and the metal plate clicked shut. Popping open the roof hatch, he sat down on the seat that was built into the small turret chambers wall.

In front of him there were three screens and a radio receiver that would allow him to communicate with the driver and the turret gunners of the other vehicles and vice versa. He glanced down at the screens, one of which showed the landscape thundering past in an eerie green, with rocks and the withered and stunted remains of trees and plants being picked out in white. The second screen was connected to a thermal imaging camera fastened to the tanks fore armour plates with the last being a simple radar assembly. Currently the screen was blank save for two green dots trailing behind the central icon that represented Nole himself.

Gripping the handles that aimed the .40 cal towards the horizon he surveyed the land around him. Theyd broken out of the Piles toxic dust and smog clouds about half an hour ago. The blight now towered behind them, almost a solid wall of pollution. Other than that the land was grey and inhospitable. Dust and sand covered the ground, which was occasionally broken by towering sentinels in the form of craggy rocks. Dust was whipped up by the wind and the convoys progress, which would have blinded an un-augmented man but was cancelled out by the Hazard suits visor. Through the microphones built into his helmet, he could hear the savage wings roaring across the plains. Because that was what they were travelling through the plains; a barren desert.

Nole was snapped out of his reverie by a ping from the radar followed by a squawk from the radio. Turret gunner, this is Foxtrot-oh-one-niner we have bogies inbound! I repeat, bogies inbound! Four red dots had appeared on the radar, spread along the horizon. Similar radio chatter was bouncing back and forth between the other two gunners. Nole hauled the gun around the point at the sky.

Foxtrot-oh-one-niner, do we have any idea what were up against? Nole yelled as he scanned the sky for inbound enemies.

Negative captain, but the Pile has mobilised air defences. The perimeter should be active in just under two minutes. As the Staff Sergeant finished speaking, Nole caught sight of something small and black roar past, little more than an engine with stabilising fins. A minute later there was a sonic boom as the sound rolled past. It lazily rolled around and slowed down to make a pass on the convoy.

Open fire! Nole bawled to the other two gunner. Twisting the mount around, he squeezed off the trigger, sending a stream of heavy calibre rounds screaming towards the invaders. There was another three booms as the other hostiles shot over. All three of the convoy's vehicles were now firing, spitting fire and tracer into the sky, crisscrossing the early morning sky with shrapnel and chaos. One of Noles rounds clipped one of the tiny craft knocking it head over heels before it plunged to the earth and impacted against a stone column at near enough the speed of sound. Then there was a second chatter of bullets, this time the dull whirring whine of low calibre rounds. Dust sprang up around Noles transport, with a few spanging off the metal to his left. So the drones were armed.

The turret guns continued to stitch the skies with rounds, the three remaining drones keeping their distance. The convoy continued to roll onwards, swapping fire with the tiny metallic wasps whenever they ventured within range. The radio burst into life in a garble of static before clearing, allowing the Staff Sergeants voice to break through.

Captain, the perimeter is up! We have SHRIKEs incoming. Nole sighed a breath of relief, but a moment too soon. The three drones split up, circling the convoy so as to approach from separate angles. Suddenly darting forward they made for the central vehicle, their nose mounted weapons chattering.

There was a scream from the radio, followed by an ominous silence. The centre turret suddenly ceased its barrage. Then there was a series of roars and three missiles streaked overhead, having burst from the Piles cloaking smog clouds two soaring ahead and the third lagging behind. Two of the drones were hit by the forward missiles as they banked into a turn, twin fireballs flaring into existence, followed half a second later by the deafeningly loud roar of the explosion.

Debris rained down, white hot shrapnel from the decimated bodies of the two fallen drones. As the first two were annihilated, the final drone banked upwards, activating electronic countermeasures in an attempt to throw off its dogged pursuer. Anyone listening over a broad spectrum radio would have heard the fluctuating whine of interference as the jammer did its job.

The last SHRIKE succumbed to the jammers distraction, corkscrewing away towards the phantom drone it was convinced it could see. Reaching its destination it destructed in open air, the tiny drone victorious as it fled back to whence it had come.

Nole grimly watched the tiny spot of light rapidly shrinking to nothing. He shook his head - a bad omen of things to come. A light contact barely lasting three minutes and theyd sustained a casualty not a medal winning performance. Yanking open the hatch on the floor, he climbed back down into the troop compartment. Miller, youre up top. Move. Popping open the neck seal around his helmet, he lifted it off and placed it the bench that lined the wall. Sniffing the air he could smell the acrid sent of burnt cordite from the .40 cal that had wafted down as hed climbed back.

Pushing open the window to the drivers compartment he could see the Staff Sergeant hunched over the tanks controls. What happened to the central turret gunner? He enquired. The driver glanced around.

He took a round through the arm, sir. Theyve got him on morphine and dressed the wound, so hell be able to hold out until the missions complete. The Lieutenant leading the Engineers says they dont need a Med-Evac anyway. Nole nodded before sliding the panel shut again. Not as bad as it could have been.
What just happened, sir? That was Corporal Andrews.

Scouts, Nole growled. Drones I think. They hit the gunner on the Engineers vehicle. We got three of them, but the forth bugged out. A sullen silence fell after that. Most of the soldiers were thinking about the implications of that scout reaching enemy lines with the information it had gathered.