The sight of dozens of highly trained, heavily armed, battle-hardened Special Operations soldiers being stymied by a bubble-gum pink semi-transparent shield might have been amusing under certain circumstances. 'Might' being the operative word, as the moment the storm of crossbow bolts and arrows had torn open the throat of an unlucky Ranger, it had reminded everyone that, while primitive, arrows were still lethal.

“This is Reaper 6, Gustavs are set. Over.”

The relief that washed through Moose’s system was quickly stifled by an arrow slicing through the air a half inch in front of his nose. Moose quickly pulled his head back behind the tree that was his only protection from the rain of projectiles coming from the alien’s walls. Out of sheer reflex, he began to bring his rifle up to return fire, only to stop mid-gesture and press himself into the bark.

He scolded himself for allowing his head to drift forward. A slight shift in the wind and that arrow would have skewered him. Even if it hadn't killed him, it would have at least taken him out of the fight, and the Task Force needed every shooter it had if it was going to pull off its mission.

The shield surrounding S-L-1 was frustratingly impervious to the Task Force’s small arms. Not even the Rangers' M320 grenade launchers could so much as scratch it. A thin line of crushed slugs and a field covered in spent brass was a pathetic answer to the literally thousands of projectiles lodged in trees, dirt, and flesh.

A pained yell to Moose's left pulled his attention to the low, crumbling stone wall a dozen paces away. Behind the decrepit fortification a medic had both his hands buried up to the knuckle in a Ranger's thigh. Bright, arterial blood gushed across the medic's plate carrier and face before he swore and jammed a trauma dressing into the wound. The Ranger screamed and tried to thrash against the SEAL holding him down. The SEAL grimaced as he used both arms to restrain the suffering man and prevent him from exposing himself to more injury. Despite the operator's best efforts, the Ranger's non-injured leg peaked out far enough from cover to receive another arrow through his boot. His wails intensified.

Had Moose chosen to look around, he could have seen a half dozen similar sights without leaving cover.

The field in front of the city gates was small, not quite the size of a football field, and behind nearly every rock, tree, and anything else that even slightly resembled cover was at least one man, and in many cases several bunched tightly together. In some cases, only fractions of an inch kept the warriors from perforation. Some, the unlucky, had been caught in the defenders' opening barrage. Some bolts and arrows were caught by helmets or plate carriers, but many were not. While undoubtedly effective against ballistic threats, the soldiers' armor did not cover a very large portion of their bodies, leaving them exposed to the hailstorm of medieval firepower.

“This is Romeo 1-6, roger. Popping smoke. Over.”

A moment later, a pair of smoke grenades flew forward from a boulder that protected a half dozen Rangers. Their rock was the closest position to the wall, and the canisters actually bounced off the barrier before hitting the ground.

In less than a minute, thick smoke concealed the enemy from view and, more importantly, prevented them from properly aiming their weapons. What had been concentrated, aimed fire slackened as the defenders struggled to discern targets through the murky haze.

“This is Reaper 6, all units brace for danger close. Firing.”

The last word was punctuated with a horrendous, ear shattering roar. Despite years of experience and training, Moose couldn't help but duck his head slightly as the mini-cannon shell whooshed mere feet over his head. Faster than he could register, the noise of the weapon’s launch was obliterated by a wave of overpressure and a split second of blistering heat.

The 84mm warhead exploded on contact with the shield. Nearly seven pounds of high explosive designed to rip open hardened bunkers and light tanks at half a kilometer pitted against a force that defied explanation and by all rights shouldn't exist. Grass vaporized, dirt burned, and anything not rooted to the ground was tossed aside like confetti.

Moose blinked rapidly to clear the dust from his eyes and forced himself to ignore the ringing in his ears. If his radio headset didn't also act as hearing protection, his eardrums would have likely been perforated by the almost irresponsibly close explosion. Recovered from the effects of the blast, Moose edged his head around the wide oak tree to see the after effects of the recoilless rifle round.

What he saw made his stomach drop.

What appeared to be half a crater marked the exact point the warhead had contacted the pink force field. On the outside, the earth was scorched black and barren by the high explosive. Not a centimeter away, on the other side, the grass was green and lush. He pushed the wave of dread that threatened to overcome him aside and reached for his radio.

“This is Kilo 0-5, no effect on target.” His voice was steady as his eyes were locked on the shield, searching for any sign of imperfections or damage. He struggled to remember if it had always been a solid sheet, or if he simply hadn't looked close enough to see the small ripples that rolled across its surface.

“Kilo 0-5, Reaper 6. Roger, no effect on target. Forager 6, request permission to fire for effect. Over.”

“This is Forager 6, granted. Lieutenant, I don’t care if it takes every round you have; take that fucking thing down. Over.”

“Roger.”

Seconds passed before two more thunderclaps trumpeted destruction upon the mountain. Dirt thrown up by the explosives dropped on the plateau like rain as the sound of shattering glass cut through the air.

Helmets across the plateau rose as men peaked out from behind cover as a thousand shards of pink light broke apart and fell to the ground across the city. Dust from the twin explosions hadn't settled before another recoilless rifle round screamed through the air and detonated on the high stone wall.

Slabs of marble shattered before the irresistible force of the humans’ weapons. Chunks of rock and concrete broke off the rampart, leaving a massive, jagged gap in the wall that exposed the pristine structures that lay deeper in the city. Parts of aliens and bits of their weapons mixed in with the rubble into grisly mounds and befouling the earth in every direction. The shallow moat that surrounded the city was quickly dammed with falling debris.

The city was open, and the Task Force advanced.