A miracle

In your mind you were cursing your commander. You knew that they hadn't had much time to prepare but they still had managed to throw away a numerical advantage gained after a hard fight. Watching the video feeds of your comrades but locked out of the communications network to prevent cheating you felt helpless as they left you and the others to get fucked and bred by the enemy.

The Vikings were charging hard after your comrades, **** to capture as many as possible before they could reach the safety of their drop ships. You saw your forces center group, the party obviously protecting your commander and consisting of the best fighters, outpacing those on the wings. The way that she was trying to sacrifice your comrades just to save her own cunt sickened you. A real leader would have led a rear guard to help as many who were still standing get away before making her own escape. That was why the African Directorate only allowed its most skilled warriors to become war leaders in the first place. You cursed her and hoped her next battle was outnumbered against the ESF. You heard they had a General who enjoyed fucking the enemy leader's ass.

Your anger still clouding your mind you didn't comprehend why the soldier you were watching slowed down. They were still over three hundred meters from the safety of the nearest drop ship. When she turned around and raised her shield you were even more mystified. It was then after a few quick camera switches that you realized the bigger picture and felt deep shame for your ignoble thoughts.

The Vikings, their battle and regular lust overwhelming them didn't see the trap until it was too late. They had thought the battle won and had broken all semblance of a formation in order to claim breeders for themselves. They didn't notice when their prey stopped running. They didn't understand when they found themselves face to face again with those who they had thought broken. They especially didn't understand when their ragged mob was enveloped with a bull horn formation that would have made Shaka Zulu proud. The reformed ranks of the African Directorate charged into the unruly Viking horde. Forcing them back. There was no escape or quarter given or asked in the final struggle. Many of those who had survived the initial clash had been felled by the sheer ferocity of the caged Vikings but in the end your forces stood victorious.

Still muted from everyone else you joined in the victory cry being broadcast over the body strewn plains as the Swiss came to start getting people out of their suits for the post battle celebration.