War of the Worlds; 2nd Wave

Mudpudjaris watched the enemy forces approach with apprehension. It was clear that however primitive they and their machines were, the prey were disciplined. Their intent was clear; most of their number would attack head on, but the remainder would outflank the line the People had set up. Once they did, they could rip apart the defending forces one by one.

The entire campaign plan had been made on the belief the prey had learned and adapted. That belief was much justified, as the local commander saw.

The odds, such as they were, weren't in the People's favor. Two of the available machines were damaged; Prisgarjenkis' machine would be slow, and that of Comdarenkis had compromised armor and could be killed more quickly. On top of that, those machines, as well as Mudpudjaris' own, lacked targeting modules that would have made hitting their targets much easier.

If only the prey had waited another tenthday to attack! Mudpudjaris inwardly moaned. We would be much better prepared.

At least four flying machines, all completed and quite deadly, were on the way. They would give the Camnaris Hive a better chance of victory, as none of the enemy machines seemed to have dedicated anti-air systems.

"Any machines with Black Dust launchers, fire them towards the central position of the enemy, Do not fire heat rays as of yet."

Four of its hivemates promptly raised their launchers, the others not possessing these weapons. Pods of the lethal material sped toward the enemy. Maybe it would kill some of them; maybe it would only momentarily blind them. But it was better than just letting the enemy just walk up and use whatever weapons they had on the People.

"Smoke canisters! Get your masks on!"

Even as the Lieutenant was speaking, the enemy projectiles landed, unleashing the Smoke. Spike quickly reached down, not daring to breathe, and quickly slipped his mask into place. Only then did he allow himself another breath.

"Do not turn or slow down! Keep moving and we'll be out of it faster!"

He was right; they couldn't stop here. Not if they wanted to survive the Smoke. Already, Spike could see black particles edging their way through whatever gaps they could.

He set his machine to move at its highest speed. The mech shuddered, but it did as he wanted it to. Fortunately, the area covered by the Smoke was quickly covered by the Equestrian machine; looking around, he could see the rest of the squadron continuing to advance, all except one mech that had crashed onto its front. He shuddered. Someone must have not put their mask on in time. There was always that one guy in every unit... Or perhaps it had been smacked directly in the face with a Smoke canister. Though unlikely, it wasn't impossible.

"Keep going! We're closing on them! We'll be in range to hit back in a minute or two!"

Spike hoped they'd last that long.

A disappointing result, Mudpudjaris thought, but not unexpected. The loss of just one of their adversaries wasn't going to halt them.

"Do any of you have the new weapons?" it asked.

"I do, Commander," one of its more recent subordinates replied. "But they will have to be closer, and by then..."

"Utilize it when they get in range of our heat rays, then use your own ray when you are out of spheres to throw."

"Affirmative."

It would not be long. In fact, the prey were almost... there.

"Attack."

"All mechs, fire!"

Spike took aim at the middle machine - the one still smoking - and pulled the trigger.

At the same time, the Amari raised their weapons and fired. Heat rays from both sides crisscrossed the battlefield.

In seconds, first blood went to M.A.R.S.; the previously damaged machine took multiple hits. Its armor was slagged, then melted, then it unceremoniously crumpled to the ground as a ray got through and roasted the pilot.

For a moment, cheering could faintly be heard from other mechs. But it didn't last long.

The Amari scored their first kills immediately afterwards, completely disregarding the fall of one of their own. Rays flashed over five mechs; their armor was pierced, and three of them exploded in balls of smoke and steam as their boilers blew. The other two fell, their legs were severed, the pilots alive for now.

One of the enemy machines threw something that resembled a green glass ball. It crashed between two mechs, unleashing clouds of green goo. Almost at once, holes began to appear in the mechs wherever the goo had landed on them; it burned through their armor, eating through it, as if the goo were a mass of termites chewing away wood at a super-fast speed. Those mechs staggered and fell, smoke and steam issuing out of them.

Spike shot at the machine that had done the throwing. He hit its frontal armor, which momentarily staggered it as it instinctively backed away. He wasn't the only one; about a dozen other mechs were firing on that enemy, some using their machine guns.

The tripod was been about to hurl another sphere when a bullet slammed into the projectile it was about to hurl. The sphere burst, and the alien machine staggered as its own acid began to eat away at it; it was hit by three heat rays in quick succession. It fell; the green spheres it had been carrying burst upon hitting the ground, doing to the Amari machine what they had done to the mechs.

"New weapon?"

"Some kind of fast-working acid..."

"Keep calm," Lieutenant Azurite commanded, cool as ever. "It's not unbeatable. And stop all aiming at the same ones; spread your fire out more evenly!"

The firing on the native side grew less concentrated, as the M.A.R.S. soldiers did as their commanding officer bade them. Another Amari machine went down, with another having its leg blown completely off by a fortunate shot, which sent it tumbling to the ground. In exchange, the aliens' fire claimed three more mechs, and heavily damaged others. Steam and smoke filled the air.

"Sea Bird, you're too far forward!" Azurite suddenly stated over the radio. "Get back in line, now!"

Spike noticed one machine - indeed belonging to Sea Bird, running (if it's gait could be called that) as it fired.

"Sea Bird, get your hindquarters back here or I'll fry you myself once this battle's over!"

"Go pound sand, Loot; I'm killing them all."

"Last chance, private. I'll court martial you otherwise."

A heat ray that passed by Spike's machine - missing by mere inches - brought him back to the battle. He forced himself to ignore the exchange as he fired again.

He could understand the hippogriff's anger and hatred. He felt it every time he was forced to relive the War in his mind; friends murdered, mass destruction, the finding of dying ponies and others in Amari prison pens waiting for death or to be eaten...

But, he reflected, as his heat ray helped to slice another tripod open, he wasn't going to join the rebellious private's action. He was going to stay with the team and use his weapons to dispense his revenge, as part of something bigger than just himself.

The fighting machine he'd been working on blew up in a blinding flash; the battery with all of the machine's energy must have been hit.

He rubbed his eyes, unable to fight until the whiteness in them faded.

As expected, Comdarenkis' fighting machine had been destroyed in the first moments of the battle. Another couple of unknown hivemates had gone down. Now Prisgarjenkis' machine blew up, staggering Mudpudjaris' own along with the one on the other side. Of the original four in Mudpudjaris' cylinder, only the commander himself remained.

A fifth machine, its pilot likely still staggered from the explosion, simply crumpled as enemy heat rays burned through its middle and slew the Person handling it. Of the eleven machines the People had started this fight with - twelve if one counted the enemy aerial attack as part of the same fight - only six were left. And over half the enemy were still up and fighting, with other, damaged machines occasionally trying to assist.

"Get me a direct connection with cylinder 3-4," Mudpudjaris commanded. "Route the communications through another machine if necessary."

Yes, Commander," came the reply of a hivemate. Seconds later, there was a beeping sound, indicating a connection.

"Cylinder 3-4, where are your flying machines? We are engaged in a battle with enemy forces and are in need of assistance!"

"Commander, they are will be there momentarily. Aerial Leader Jisparkengis can see the battle right now."

"Excellent. But tell him to go faster if at all possible. We're down to six fighting machines."

It cut the link. "We about to receive reinforcements. Keep the enemy occupied until they arrive."

Lieutenant Azurite seethed as Sea Bird continued to defy orders and charge the enemy. I'll literally burn his bacon when this is over," he thought to himself, feeling a sense of predatory joy at the contemplation.

But this fight was about much, much more than one wayward fool. He had to remember that.

A sixth Amari fighting machine keeled over on its right side - Azurite's left - as its leg on that side was melted off and the torso of the tripod sustained several direct hits.

About half of the 1st M.A.R.S. Squadron were still up and fighting. This was a tough fight, but it was shaping up to be a win, albeit a very costly one.

By now, machine gun fire was filling the air. While no one machine gun bullet was going to penetrate the alien tripods' armor, a few might make their way in through weak points and damage internal components, perhaps even kill or wound the pilot inside. Even those that didn't get through might distract the pilots with their rattling of the enemy machines.

Three more of his mechs went down; one exploded, another was hit directly in the cockpit and burned the pilot away, and the final one fell over backwards.

But as a seventh Amari machine crashed to the ground, he felt that predatory joy rise again. 1st M.A.R.S. was going to survive and win.

Suddenly, a wave of heat rays from the sky washed over the squadron. Two mechs blew up.

"What...?"

"Loot! Flying machines!"

He turned his gaze skyward and to the right. There they were, the flying machines that had just buzzed his unit. They had passed by very fast - hence most of them missing their targets - but they were wheeling around and slowing down. Their next pass would be much more effective.

"Spread out! Break formation!"

Some mechs were already doing so, their legs turning sideways in order to maintain their assault on the fighting machines. Others hadn't even known the Amari had received their aerial reinforcements.

"Look to the sky! Shoot down the flying machines that just arrived!"

About half the machines - more accurately, about half of those who weren't confused - turned their machine guns to try to knock out at least some of the flying machines.

The ground-bound tripods renewed their fire. More mechs exploded or collapsed as the fire directed at them slackened.

Machine guns chattered as the flying machines came again, this time head on. At the same time, the sixteen light heat rays on the flying machines fired. Mechs went up in flames, blew up, crashed, tipped over, or crumpled.

One of the flying machines burst into flames and screamed over the surviving mechs, crashing and blowing up somewhere behind them.

Azurite quickly counted those mechs still on their feet.

Fifteen. They were down to fifteen out of the original fifty mechs they'd had. Against four tripods and three flying machines. Even as he was trying to decide what to do, another mech went down.

We can't retreat; the enemy are too close, and those flying machines would tear us up even if we tried. And I don't think we can win. The grim reality set in.

"1st Squadron, make them pay."

Spike watched the M.A.R.S. Corps' chances of victory literally go up in smoke. Within a minute, the twenty-five surviving mechs had been reduced to fourteen. Despair fell upon him.

We're doomed.

An anger that can only be felt by those who know they're about to die set in. Yelling incomprehensively, he fired his weapons at an eighth Amari machine. His heat ray and machine guns struck the tripod as his despairing fury set in.

Smolder, Nickel, Sovereign, Green, even Sea Bird...

And Twilight... this is for you!

The Amari machine finally fell, its center burned out.

But now, there were few mechs left to take advantage of that small victory. And those left were being wiped out fast-

Suddenly Spike's mech fell to the ground, coming to rest on its side as the dragon controlling it lost that control. He felt stunned as the mech rolled to an abrupt halt. Spike felt the back of his head connect with something, and lost consciousness. The last thing he heard were the howls of the Amari machines, screeching in victory.

"UUUUUUULLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Mudpudjaris watched the last of the enemy machines fall. Despite its two remaining hivemates on the ground letting out deafening howls, it could feel no satisfaction. The loss of nine fighting machines out of twelve, along with a flying machine, had destroyed most of the Camnaris Hive's current fighting ability.

This is no victory. We were fortunate that Cylinder 3-4 was able to send reinforcements, or else we would all be dead.

That was a chilling thought. Although primitive, the prey's fighting machines had startled everyone by using heat rays, and they had nearly defeated an entire force of People. That was a marked difference between the previous invasion and the current one. It had known that setbacks had occurred already; destruction of a cylinder or two, a machine down here or there, but this? A real battle where the People nearly lost? Would have lost, if not for the sudden arrival of friendly flying machines? This so far had been unheard of.

"Commander, what are your orders?"

Mudpudjaris looked around. The battlefield was strewn with wreckage from the destroyed and damaged machines of both sides. One enemy machine had gotten quite close before it had had its legs burned out from under it.

"Destroy any enemy machines still showing any signs that their pilots are alive. Then withdraw, with as much material as we can carry, to the cylinder 3-5 hivefort. Do not forget the medications that will fight the microorganisms or the food we've brought from the Homeworld.

It used it's machine's tentacles to prevent the hivemate to it's left from firing.

"Not the one closest to us. Take the pilot prisoner; it will make a most rewarding meal later once we've studied it. And take it's machine so that we may observe it. We will melt it down for further materials later."