Dusk had just fallen over Hill 330.
Sitting on a bench inside the observation post, Centurion Yott of the 11th Support Company stared blankly through the observation window at the Gobi gradually being swallowed by night.
A few hours earlier, he had received word from the forward command post. The savage Alliance had concentrated all its strength and launched a surprise attack on the Legion's defensive line. Position G40-1 had already fallen.
Within forty-eight hours at the latest, Alliance tanks would reach the foot of Hill 330.
Four thousand-man units from the front were retreating to reinforce the defense. Soft had given him only one task—coordinate with the returning troops and block the Alliance armored forces that had pushed into their rear.
Yott could not help feeling bewildered.
Just the day before yesterday, their friendly forces had been pounding The Alliance over the radio, beating them black and blue. How had they suddenly been punched through?
No matter what, headquarters could not possibly be joking with him.
Yott had no intention of joking with his own life either. He immediately sent out a reconnaissance squad and an engineer squad to bury explosives at the foot of the hill.
Aside from the teams operating the radar and anti-aircraft guns, he sent everyone else halfway up the hill to dig trenches and set up defenses.
At that moment, a sentry ran in and snapped to attention with a salute.
"Report! Troops are approaching from the rear!"
The rear?
Yott's heart stirred slightly. He immediately rose from the bench, strode out of the observation post, and headed straight for the road on the north side of Hill 330.
Dust billowed through the night. Fully armed soldiers packed dozens of trucks, advancing toward them in a mighty column from the direction of the command