The air was dry and cold, with a faint salty tang.
The sky was purple, and stars glittered overhead.
Far to the south, the fiery sun was slowly rising. To the west, in the direction of Dunwich, the horizon had been lit by flames since midnight.
It was the handiwork of bombers that had never stopped bombing, day or night.
It was morning now, and the bunkers in the basin stood like gravestones in a cemetery.
The morning light gilded the plain rectangular stone buildings, though some had already been completely blasted apart, smoke still rising from the rubble.
Within the New California Republic's Dunwich-Sikasen defensive sector, Lins Basin was an extremely important link. Its core was a bunker complex nearly ten kilometers long, threaded with numerous concealed communication trenches and minefields.
The original plan had been that once the front line fell, the defenders along the Sikasen River would withdraw step by step to the second line of defense. The Lins Basin fortress complex was part of that second line, and it should have been able to accommodate three or four divisions.
But the front had collapsed too quickly. Before these second-line fortifications could be used, the Orks had already reached their doorstep.
There had even been cases of soldiers reaching shelters, only to find their blast doors tightly shut and no keys anywhere to be found.
The war on the surface was over. The air was filled with dry, static charge, as if some enormous electromagnetic machine nearby was in operation.
The main defensive force consisted of two divisions, both withdrawn from the front after suffering severe losses. Following a brief rest, Dunwich Command had ordered them to defend this area.
A group of battle wizards sent from the rear to reinforce the front had arrived with them.