A Defensive Line

Mercer ran through a debris field as ash sprinkled down across the sand. Explosions rocked nearby as the gunners reinforced themselves for impact. "Droh, get that cannon over here, quickly!" Mercer shouted out as the young Faun scurried over in a panic.

Mercer stood toward the center of the group as heavy energy barriers cast down a shield over them, protecting their group from a majority of attacks. These barriers were provided beforehand by Elias, and because of them, Mercer was able to secure a safe zone.

"This is insane," Mercer cursed aloud, "We're dead… we're so dead… Droh!"

Droh's ears twitched as his name was called out. He shouted out in response, "Mercer, I'm sort of busy over here!" He could be seen lugging a heavy cannon practically the same size as himself over toward their defensive line. "Hey, help me set this thing up, will you?"

Mercer frowned as his eyes darted toward one of the clansmen who had accompanied him. "You, help him set that cannon up, and hurry!"

He was acting rather presumptuous, but during all of the chaos, it seemed that no one else had wanted the responsibility of leadership. After all, no one wanted to take up the mantle and compete with Elias, especially once both sides reunited.

"Sir!" One of the clansmen exclaimed as he rushed over towards Droh's side. He grabbed one side of the cannon and loosened the mechanism, allowing the mount to sink into the ground, planting it firmly. They quickly adjusted several parts of the cannon, only stopping once they were satisfied that it would fire.

Droh grabbed hold of the trigger, aiming the cannon toward a mound of enemies who were slowly encroaching on them. He took a breath, and as he exhaled, he fired. An explosive shot rang out, smashing into the black sand, sending particles of shrapnel and dust flying through the air.

The cannon kicked back as a heavy shot rang out of its barrel. If they hadn't attached it to the ground beforehand, it most likely would've flipped under the pressure.

"Keep firing, hold them off!" Mercer instructed. He turned toward another side as he asked one of the clansmen, "How are things looking over there?"

"I've held off most of them, but they're slowly pushing up… we don't have the necessary weaponry to handle a full-scale push." A younger man answered back, raising his head out from under a cloak as his face was coated in sand. His appearance was clearly human, however, his skin seemed to almost peel and crack, as if made of dried sand.

"Shit…" Mercer cursed once again, his face simply dripping of sweat. "How goes the radio?"

A different clansman replied in a deep somber voice, "I've been trying, but it's only static. It seems we're too far away to reach close-range, so I've been trying long-range."

"Still nothing even with long-range?"

The clansman shook his head dejectedly, "I'm afraid not, and I'm not entirely sure why. Could be the enemy has some method of blocking our long-range transmissions, or perhaps it's because there's no one alive to receive it."

Mercer hesitated for a moment as he contemplated what to say next.

"Hm…" He smacked his face, leaving a red mark. "We can't think about that right now. I doubt Mister Elias would die so easily. Hell, I doubt any of those bastards would die so simply... they seem like the sort of people who are painfully hard to kill. Like damn cockroaches."

"Cockroaches?" The clansman repeated, shock apparent on his face as a faint grin formed. "You're right about one thing, we can't think about that right now. I'll keep trying to reach them, I'll keep you updated."

Mercer nodded, showing he understood. "Keep trying to reach them, but don't forget your other responsibilities. If we end up overrun from that side, it'll be on your head."

Droh continued firing as he listened to their conversation. The sound of eruptions cascading throughout the battlefield as their cannons launched deadly projectiles. They had a reasonably protected foothold, but that was all they had. They had no means of escape, the moment they packed up to retreat, they'd be overrun.

It seemed the forces of Direfell had prepared for this, which meant there was most likely a traitor in their ranks. Droh knew this, Mercer knew this, and most importantly, Elias knew this. Even if there were no direct traitors, that didn't mean that the clan didn't have any turncoats within their intelligence agents. Someone had leaked information, that much was absolute.

"Take this!" Droh shouted out at no one in particular as he fired his cannon, creating large divots in the desert. He worried about Deus, but he knew better than to become lost in thought. He had dragged Deus into this, however, so he couldn't simply abandon the idea of rescuing him.

The enemy forces quickly overwhelmed them, surrounding them on all sides. If it wasn't for their heavy-duty energy barrier, they would've been annihilated instantly. It was quite unfortunate, however, that it had become a battle of attrition. At this point, neither side had been willing to back down, and at the same time, neither side possessed the ability to end it.

It had become a waiting game to decide which side would break first, and the odds weren't in Droh's favor.

It couldn't be helped. Droh's side possessed whatever they were left with when they departed their ship and camped on the ridge. The enemy force, however, wielded powerful weapons and a great stronghold to house their practically limitless military power. If this was a war between two fully-fueled sides, the outcome thus far might've been different, but unfortunately, it wasn't.

"I still can't believe they shot down the Nijaden like that… we didn't even have time to regret it…" Droh felt remorseful as he recalled the memory. Everything had been going so smoothly, even defeating that terrifying centipede creature. But it all was for naught the moment that beam appeared.

It struck the ship the instant it was fired as if there was no delay between distances.

It rippled through the armor and melted most of the metal, causing an explosion within the engine's innards, which brought the ship crashing down. The Nijaden's heavy hull was mightly, and yet regardless, it had been reduced to a pile of scrap under the immense heat of the beam.

Droh hadn't even seen where the blast had originated from exactly, all he knew was that it spelled disaster for all of them.

"I suppose the only good thing about this is that they haven't used that beam weapon a second time… maybe that means it's got a long charge time," he reasoned with himself. That could've been the case, but he didn't hold his breath. For all that he knew that weapon simply had a prerequisite and had thus not been used a second time.

As he fired, his attention was drawn in by what appeared to be conflict within the main debris field, where their ship had crashed. That was a good sign, all things considered. It meant there was some sort of battle waging, and the only ones who'd be engaged in a fight there would be those who survived the destruction of the Nijaden.

"Mercer, I think we've got a chance!" Droh shouted, drawing Mercer's attention as the man approached him.

"What are you talking about?" He asked. His sight aimed forward, trying to match Droh's.

It only took Mercer a moment to spot the eruptions of flame that came from further ahead. Upon spotting them, he shouted out, "Survivors!"

Droh nodded his head as a smile finally appeared across his face, "Right! Not just any, either. A small group would've been crushed that close to the enemy stronghold… I imagine only our main vanguard could hold their ground."

"Elias…" Mercer murmured out as he contemplated their next move. "You there," he beckoned one of the younger clansmen to his side, "Turn on your radio and see if you can get in contact with them."

The clansman lowered his head slightly as he undertook the assignment. His radio device buzzed as he kept out of everyone's way, doing whatever he could to find the correct channel.

"If those survivors join forces with us…" Mercer grinned, "We can pull through and maybe even push our attack. With Elias, we'll even be able to get in contact with the clan's main channels."

Droh turned his head to face Mercer as he asked, "You don't know the clan's channels? I thought you were a member…"

"Honorary member…" Mercer growled, as if ashamed. "Shut up and get back to firing… my connection to the clan is of no concern to you. After everything is said and done, I'll most likely be promoted, and will finally become a member with some actual influence."

Droh chortled, ignoring Mercer's tone as he continued to speak, "For someone who isn't even an official member, you sure do boss around their clansmen… I wonder how Elias and Roland will feel about that."

Mercer hesitated for a moment before speaking, "This was an exception… I'm sure they'll respect the fact that I took charge while everyone else simply awaited orders. Without me, we'd probably already be dead."

"Sure, that could be the case… or perhaps you're simply overstepping your bounds, and they won't appreciate that. After all, an honorary member commanding their clansmen is a sign of weakness by my count, even if the clansmen you commanded were simply grunts."

Mercer glared at Droh as he growled, "Just shut up and shoot, you stupid little faun."

All Droh could do was laugh it off and move on. Even he knew when to stop pushing, else he would face unnecessary consequences. Truth be told, he was just trying to have some fun at Mercer's expense, especially since he was in this situation because of him.

Behind Droh, the young clansman continued pressing the communication device. Each time he changed to a new channel, the device sounded off with a firm static buzz. With each frequency, he would pause and wait for a moment to listen before he'd speak into it, all in an attempt to see if anyone would reply.

He had to be careful, however, as he never knew who could be listening, so he had to speak vaguely. For all he knew, he could accidentally access a public channel used by the Direfell military, which could spell further disaster for them if they found out anything about Mercer's intent.

"Hello, is anyone there?" He spoke into the device, pausing for a response.

A rough static replied. It was as if someone had activated their device and rubbed two rocks together into the microphone.

"Hello?" The young man spoke again, and once again he paused to hear a reply.

"Bzz… Do you…. bzzz…"

A response at last.

"Yes, hello, do you hear me? Who is this?" He asked impatiently, a hint of excitement showed on his face.

"Bzz… Droh… bzzz…. are you…"

The clansman jumped to his feet as he shouted out loud, "Mercer, Droh! I've got a response! Its mostly static, but I heard them ask for Droh."

"Droh?" Mercer repeated, "Shit, that might be Deus… give the device to me, let me check."

Finally some good news. It was enough to excite everyone nearby. After all, progress was great.

"This is Mercer… Deus, is that you?" He spoke into the device.

"Bzz… Mercer… put… bzzz… Droh on…"

Droh's ears flapped wildly as he heard a familiar voice. That was, without a doubt, the same Deus who he had journeyed to Direfell with, and signed up for this mission with. Droh left his cannon as the same clansman who had found the station took his place. He approached Mercer as his hand stretched out as if signaling him to give the radio over.

All Mercer could do was comply as he gave the device to Droh, letting out a quiet click with his tongue as he did.

"Deus, is that you?" Droh asked as his ears twitched with an eager excitement. He was worried all this time that Deus had been injured or even killed during the crash. It was a thought he couldn't kick, until now.

"Bzz… Droh, glad to… hear… bzzz… I'm with Elias… bzzz…"

Droh and Mercer listened, a grin appeared on both of their faces as hope slowly began to reappear. Droh's tail swayed as he asked, "Mercer, is there any chance for us to clean up this static?"