The Yeomen of England (Posleen in England)

General Haig could hardly be less concerned, she thought grimly, as the explosions began to echo ahead of them. The dark shapes of Posleen landers could be seen, the smaller Lamprey units rather than the bigger C-Decs or B-Decs. If she’d been commanding the Posleen force, she would have sent the landers in to finish off the humans on the ground, but instead…the Posleen just kept coming.

She scowled. In theory, there was a second defence line, but she wasn’t confident that the Marines would hold under the pressure of the Posleen. Inter-service rivalry aside - the Marines had done very well in the Falklands War and a lot of the veterans from that conflict had been rejuvenated – but they weren’t ready for the Posleen. The ACS units were around somewhere, but where?

“Stand ready,” she snapped, as the battle intensified. Her two subordinates scrambled to obey. “The shit is about to hit the fan.”

“Yes, madam,” Lieutenant Shull said. A born-again lesbian, someone who had taken care to hide that from the army authorities, who would not have been amused, Lieutenant Shull worked quickly. “The main gun is ready and we have one hundred anti-lander rounds.”

“Engine ready, madam,” Corporal Joe Buckley agreed. “We’re ready to move.”

“I’ll signal Colonel Goddard,” Demimonde said. “We have to kill as many of those fucking Lampreys as possible.”
Before they kill us through sheer weight of numbers, she thought. She determinedly left the though unspoken. The remains of the armoured division didn’t need more bad luck.
***

Corporal Matthew Barry felt sick, watching from his concealed nest as the Posleen raged by, heading for the defence line. He’d gone to great pains to build his little nest, but the sheer presence of the Posleen had nearly broken it open, nearly leaving him vulnerable. Nervously, he checked the explosive pack at his belt, enough explosive to utterly ruin his body and make it impossible for the Posleen to eat him.

“Control, there are thousands of the bastards,” he said. The swarm seemed never ending – and then they hit the minefield. The explosions, normal high explosive, shrapnel and Bouncing Barbie mines, ripped their way though thousands of Posleen, but they just kept coming. The minefields exploded and were silenced in minutes, even as the Posleen ran over them, charging at the defence lines, running over the bodies of their predecessors.
“They’re destroying the Barbie mines as well,” he said. It wasn’t a surprise; reusing the weapons depended on having time to hide them again, and the Posleen weren’t that stupid. Shells landed amid the mass, killing more and more, but they just kept coming. He blinked as a lander hovered overhead, firing HVMs at the defence line, and then saw his target.
Gotcha, you bastards, he thought, as the first God King appeared. He sighted through his rifle carefully, knowing that he would only have one shot, and fired once. The God King’s head exploded, even as the Posleen swung around to fire at him. He tried to roll out of the way, counting on the Posleen confusion when their God King died, but it was too late. Another God King was already giving orders, taking control of the swarm and redirecting it towards the imprudent human who had killed the first God King.
Shit, he thought, as the Posleen fired. The series of explosions killed him and scattered his body all over the ground.
***

Lieutenant Seth Fanaroff had no time to stare as the Posleen marched on, moving with slightly more care than normally as they closed in on the human lines. The brilliant streaks of HVMs being fired directly at the human position was blinding, he covered his eyes even as he started to fire his heavy machine gun, aiming directly towards the Posleen mass.

“Die,” he shouted. The Vickers machine gun he carried grew warmer in his hands as he fired, hosing down the Posleen forces. The sheer mass of the Posleen pressed them onwards, using their own dead bodies as shields, and they broke through the line. A Posleen brought its weapon around…and Lieutenant Seth Fanaroff was killed before he could react. The Posleen took a bite out of his body and pressed on.
***

Captain Bertha Demimonde cursed suddenly as the Lamprey closed in on them. “Loan anti-lander round,” she snapped. “Fire as you bear.”

“Firing,” Lieutenant Shull said. The Challenger shook as it fired a single shell directly into the Lamprey, which fell to the ground and exploded.
“Move us,” Demimonde snapped. Buckley didn’t hesitate; the tank was already moving just before a HVM slammed into their former location. “Fuck me, that was close.”
“I’d sooner not, if it’s all the same to you,” Lieutenant Shull said wryly. “Captain; incoming Lamprey.”
“Hit the bastard,” Demimonde snapped. The Challenger shuddered again as it struck the Lamprey, its companions opening fire at the same time. The landers paused in their drift forward – perhaps even the Posleen could not afford to spend them casually. Three more exploded, two falling onto the Posleen lines below.
“They’re coming at us along the ground,” Buckley snapped. Demimonde cursed at missing the Posleen advance, very un-Posleen-like. “Lieutenant, take them out!”
Shull didn’t even bother to argue, activating the machine guns and sweeping across the Posleen as they advanced. The Posleen fired back, missing them…and then a HVM slammed into the turret. The entire tank flipped over end over end, coming to a rest finally upside down.
Demimonde gasped in pain, carefully undoing her restraints and trying to move. Nothing was broken; the outside monitors were still working, revealing wave after wave of Posleen passing them. Something dripped down onto her, and she realised with horror that it was blood.
“Tamara?” She asked, and then realised that there was no point. Lieutenant Shull’s head was tilted at an odd angle; her neck was clearly broken. Corporal Buckley pulled himself up, trying to look closer, and then he finally shook his head.
“Dead,” he said grimly. He felt her pulse, but she could tell that there wasn’t anything coming from Lieutenant Shull any longer. He looked out of the portals and realised that they were trapped.
“I think this is when I’m supposed to tell you I’ve always loved you,” he said. Demimonde chuckled harshly. “They’ll find us soon in here, the way they’re probing around.”
“And we can’t run; they’ll see us and kill us,” Demimonde said. She checked her pistol, wishing that they’d been armed with something with more kick. “How’s your weapon?”
“Working, but it won’t do much against the Posleen,” Buckley said. “They’re checking the tanks now.”
Demimonde made a decision. “Come here,” she said, and pulled him into a harsh kiss. He seemed surprised at first, and then she felt the male desire to mate activate inside him as he kissed her back. “Now, take me!”
***

General Amherst cursed as the results of the sensors came in; the Posleen were punching through the lines as if they were made of paper. His men were fighting well, but they were too spread out to be of much use, fighting ruthlessly, but without the numbers necessary to make an impact on the Posleen.

“I think its time,” he said. Corporal Loomis nodded. Despite heroic effort, they hadn’t managed to move enough civilians from Liverpool to Ireland, or even to the Isle of Man. “Order the ACS to stand by to move in, to plug the Posleen as far forward as they can.”
“Yes, sir,” Corporal Loomis said. “Sir, it might also be time to unleash the neutron bombs as well.”
Amherst snorted. Parliament had finally, reluctantly, given them permission to use the enhanced radiation weapons if the situation was…desperate. In his view, the situation had passed ‘desperate’ some hours since, and was now at ‘hopeless,’ if not ‘commit suicide and save the Posleen the trouble.’
“Inform the special artillery,” he said finally. “Inform them that they are to fire at the targets I’ll designate, and only those targets.”
“Yes, sir,” Corporal Loomis said. “The ACS can operate within the radioactive environment, so they’ll be safe.”
Amherst nodded. He didn’t know how the Posleen would react to radiation and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to find out, but there was no longer any choice. If there had been more of the weapons, perhaps they could be used to win time, but he had only four warheads, one that would have to be held back for later use.
He stared at the map for a long moment. There was no longer any hope of relief; they would have to make their escape by sea, or die fighting at the wall. He checked the location of the assault rifles; if the Posleen came, he would die fighting.
“Corporal Loomis, you have to prepare for evacuation yourself,” he said. “You have a promising career ahead of you.”
Corporal Loomis shook her head. “I’m staying here,” she said firmly. “You’re going to need help, sir.”
***

Bertha Demimonde wasn’t a virgin, but the final desperate burst of lovemaking was something different. Joe – she could no longer think of him as Corporal Buckley – had taken the precaution of placing a grenade near them, and then he’d given her his full attention. As she cried out in delight, his thrusts bringing her to new heights of orgasm, she felt at ease for the first time since the war had begun.

“Oh God,” she cried out, as her third orgasm blasted through her. It was an uncomfortable position, but a bed in the finest hotel couldn’t have given her such an experience. She hardly noticed the scraping at the side of the tank as she came again, feeling him come inside her violently, his face tensed with the effort of giving her everything she could stand and a little more.
The Posleen normal didn’t have the intelligence to understand what was happening, nor what would happen when it stuck its head inside. As they came together, the Posleen lunged for them, triggering the grenade on the floor. The blinding explosion killed both humans and the Posleen for several meters around the crippled tank. The humans died happy; the Posleen…did not.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Leaving of Liverpool
HMS Chatham