The Winter War

Chapter Eight

London, England

             “Tora, put your helmet back on and go check that truck,” Ezca ordered one of his underlings. The young man, younger than him at least, slipped his helmet back on, locked it, and marched to a red van truck a little further back in line. The rest of his unit continued to man the checkpoint that led into the city while the specialists checked the driver’s identity papers and cargo manifests. By sending one of his to check the truck early Ezca was hoping to detect any contraband or weapons early; preferably before they got to the check point and send them all to meet the Kings of Dynasties Past. “Someone kick Tigris awake, I’m tired of hearing him snore on the radio.”

            An impact sound could be heard along with Tigris’ sharp exhale as someone kicked him. Inwardly, Ezca laughed. He was mostly joking but it was still funny how they followed his orders without question.

            Down the line from the large arch in the metal wall that served as the northbound checkpoint, Tora reached the truck in question and told the driver to open the back. Complying, he knew if he resisted in any way he would lose his travel permit and thus his job, the driver stepped out of the truck’s cab. This one was of the darker skin variety of human, Ezca read they were more accepted in this place than where he was stationed before, moved to the back and opened the door. Tora rose his rifle in response in case something aggressive was waiting for him but lowered it when what he saw was acceptable. The door closed and the driver reentered his cab while Tora patrolled the rest of the vehicles. He was itching for a promotion to Intelligence and was trying to show that he was a man of initiative. Since only Ezca could get the Intelligence Division to consider him, Tora was doing everything he could to stand out. It got exhausting sometimes.

            Meanwhile, Tigris, who came from a combat zone much like Ezca, was too busy enjoying the simple life of patrolling a fully conquered city. Early on in the invasion High Command decided the capital cities were the most important and hit them the hardest. Since London was the largest city in England, or the United Kingdom depending on who you asked, extra effort was made to take this city first. Months of hard fighting by the native army and thousands of Druidth casualties finally ended with a Druidth victory when they were able to capture most of the ruling body by sheer luck. A pair of soldiers were on patrol when one heard a sneeze in an abandoned building and searched it finding what they called the Parliament.

            Now the war still raged in the Highlands where the royal family remained hidden. But London was calm and happy under Druidth rule. Especially since personal firearms were illegal in this nation, not even the police carried weapons.

            “Ezca Kantotally,” Monae, the units Communications Operator, said into the squadlink radio grabbing his attention. “You have mail from home waiting for you.”

            “Send it to my personal browser,” He ordered. The Druidth war machine operated very differently than the Human ones did. While the natives relied on a large string of satellites to be able to communicate, the Druidth used each other as a relay. Their unit Communications Operator used powerful Datalinks that could talk to other units thousands of miles apart thanks to the radios that every trooper had in their suit. Each suit radio relayed information to the squadlink which then decoded the information if the embedded code matched that particular units ID number or passed it along to the one it was meant for. Occasionally, someone in High Command would use the override and access all of the suit radios at once so they could speak to every Druidth on the planet. An icon lit up in Ezca’s visor to let him the message came through alright and he tapped a button on the side of his helmet to dismiss it.