Chapter 205: Chapter 152, Tribe (7K words, please subscribe!)_2
Even though their firearms were not the sniper models specially designed for long-range kills, they could still pose a threat to the old orc at a distance of two kilometers.
However, they did not succeed in shooting it dead, killing only a few unlucky Green Skins who got in the way.
The old orc was quite cunning, too. Upon realizing he had become a target, he didn’t stubbornly exchange fire with the interstellar warriors of the Storm Corps. Instead, he took cover behind the Orc Warlord.
That was a large shield; even a grenade rifle couldn’t damage the armor on him at a distance of two kilometers, let alone harm the old orc hiding behind him.
But similarly, while taking cover might have spared him from being killed by grenade rifles or electromagnetic rifles, he also couldn’t continue to pose a threat to the fleeing humans.
Nevertheless, the situation for the human side was hardly any better.
A considerable part of the Green-Skin Army had started to move.
Armored trucks and killer cans were chasing them. Even the Orc Warlord had personally joined the fray.
Bullets were fired at them over a two-kilometer gap relentlessly.
The Green Skins’ shoddy firearms made a racket, but their bullets couldn’t even travel the two-kilometer distance, falling to the ground halfway, not to mention having any accuracy.
But the Green Skins were not left without weapons that could threaten them at this distance.
Setting aside the tin barrel cannons, which lacked precision and were like using a cannon to swat a mosquito and actually had to hit, the heavy machine guns on the armed trucks and the Multibarrel Autocannon mounted on the killer cans could still be threatening beyond two kilometers.
The precision of the Green Skin Orcs’ weapons was hard to predict, but when bullets came flying in a dense stream, as long as the general direction was correct, the bullets would still be lethal at two kilometers. With their vast numbers, even random shots were threatening enough.
Members of the Storm Squad kept falling during the retreat.
At this moment, turning around to return fire was not particularly useful. They could neither kill all the enemies nor fend them off.
They could only keep running.
Of course, escape was actually impossible.
If the interstellar warriors ran at full speed, they might have a chance, but the elite soldiers of the Storm Squad were certain to be caught.
But even for the interstellar warriors, the chance of escape was slim. After all, running at full speed meant exposing their backs to the enemy, and if there was one place where the Mecha were weakest, it was definitely the back.
To die with one’s back to the enemy was undoubtedly a great disgrace for an interstellar warrior.
And even if they decided to forsake honor and abandon their comrades to flee with all their might to preserve the fire of the battle group, the outcome might not be any better.
Until they had completely left the enemy’s attack range and evaded pursuit, it was likely that someone among them would fall, paying who knows how many lives in order to escape, with no chance to recover their genetic seeds.
Now, although they were still retreating, sometimes they faced the enemy while firing and moving backward, and other times they took shelter behind a slope or the ruins of a building, temporarily stopping the bullets from hitting them…
Retreating in such a manner, they obviously couldn’t run fast.
On the contrary, even if the path was rugged, those armed trucks with their six wheels were at least mobile. Even if some areas were inaccessible to wheels and they had to detour, they wouldn’t slow down much.
As for the killer cans—those walking Mecha—there were even fewer issues.
Matins and Schneider combined their efforts to take down a killer can with concentrated fire from their grenade rifles at a distance of over a thousand meters, but that hardly quenched their thirst.
While fighting and retreating, they could only do their utmost to delay the enemy’s pursuit. They also couldn’t run in a straight line—they had to avoid incoming fire and also be on guard not to be outflanked by the armed trucks taking detours.
They were fully aware that being caught up to was now inevitable.
But that didn’t mean they were utterly hopeless.
Although they didn’t speak to each other, Matins believed that his comrades probably shared his thoughts: they were looking for a defensible location to hold out until reinforcements arrived.
Although they didn’t know how long they would have to wait, this option seemed more reliable than running.
Of course, they also had to be prepared for the worst-case scenario: total annihilation.
But what of it? War is like that.
Especially when facing an Orc Clan that had surpassed the level of ordinary wild Green Skins—who knew whether a mishap or a victory would come first?
Along the way, they indeed found some locations conducive to defense: there were several large, sturdy buildings with three or four stories.
Even though this place was no longer the central target zone for orbital strikes, those buildings had stood for a century without collapsing and had weathered the quake-like aftershocks of near-orbital bombardment without falling. This proved that the pre-war structures were sufficiently robust.
Taking refuge in the high-rise buildings and fighting inside, the armed trucks would struggle to enter, and the killer cans would find movement difficult. They would only need to defend a section in front of them and wouldn’t have to face bullets coming from all directions as in an open field.
But those high-rises were still not the best choice.