The young male operator rose to his feet, coughing nervously, ‘Admiral, I have to report Fahimian files have now downloaded information on these ‘Terraxiles’.’ The ensign stiffened, glancing across at his commander in dread and glimpsing the disgruntled nod to proceed, ‘Fahimian files state this race comes from six planets in the Kliskoe system, they are technologically advanced, but it seems not to the level of the Fahimian Republic. They have standard weapons, believed supplied by the Morgons with several ships. As a race, they are approximately six feet tall and heavily muscled, of leathered scarred thick skin due to the harsh and bitter climate of their planets.’ The young ensign swallowed hard, ‘It seems they are bitter fighters…system reports of them consuming the Fahimians as a delicacy in tribal gatherings…even using them as sacrifices to their supposed gods. Our new allies…these Fahimians, believe them to be in alliance with the Morgons as they both seemed to coordinate attacks across their Republic before the downfall.’
Admiral Shadian nodded in weariness, ‘We have no choice then…pull the cruisers back to defensive positions either side of us…have the fighters patrol our area and protect Morasat below. Once we establish their intent, we will extend patrols across to the front lines…until then, they will have to survive on their own…’
The young ensign nodded obediently, the female intelligence officer looking up to report, ‘Sir…message is sent, I will report any reply…’
Admiral Shadian slumped back into his chair, his hand rubbing an unshaved chin deep in troubled thought, as a couple of the operators glanced up in intrigue, ‘Interesting situation…the Morgons have perhaps taunted us and drawn all our reserves to a remote part of a distant galaxy…to protect and fight with our new ally. We believe a potential weakening stalemate…’ He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, ‘They withdraw some of their forces to make us believe they are under pressure, perhaps even beaten. Once our reserves pass, they slow their withdrawal and another race appears…they have been waiting for this.’ He stiffened once more, rising from his seat and staring across the damaged bridge in horror, his expression straining, ‘They have formed another trap, and we have fallen into it once again…we are simply reacting to their moves and they are making us believe we are attacking…we are simply failing to see their deliberate provocation, they have an overall plan to destroy us here and then elsewhere!’ He snapped his fingers as if in enlightened thought, two dust smeared small Fahimian figures emerging onto the bridge as summoned.
The female intelligence officer stood up abruptly, her voice echoing across the bridge, ‘Admiral Shadian…these ‘Terraxiles’ have just declared outright war upon us!’
The two Fahimians listened intently to their earpieces for the translation, then their heads dropped together in uncomfortable embarrassment, Admiral Shadian stiffening as he shouted with adrenalin across the bridge, ‘Battle Stations! Full Alert! Get me a secure link to Planet Earth and Morasat…we will open the portal for a brief face to face meeting. I also want a briefing on the ongoing battle in this station…we now need to retake the upper levels quickly…these Morgon scum have done it again!’
Chapter Two: A Force nears
David Bland glanced briefly into the slim full length mirror next to the door of his compact officer’s room, the quarters situated on the lower starboard side of the dark vessel. Hesitating, he leant forward, staring into the reflection of his own dark lined eyes and the tinges of grey in his black hair, his mind struggling to comprehend the sight before him.
There seemed to be a different person stood staring back at him, the physical exterior evoking distant memories of an airport manager in a suit, the recollection of a blue tabard and airport ID prompting a faint smile as he considered the staff and busy working environment that had been his life less than a month previously. Now his eyes and forehead exhibited the lines of stresses that he had never imagined he would experience, of vivid memories he had never considered in his wildest dreams would occur during a relatively ‘safe’ choice of career.
He drew a deep breath, straightening and examining at the combat uniform he now wore, a comfortable thick grey tunic with padded hugging breeches and tight fitting boots that covered his shins. A hand ran over the drab military smock, his eyes studying the enhanced lightweight reinforced mesh cloth, the intriguing material able to change camouflage colours to match the surroundings. Reaching for his shoulder and chest armour from the purpose built housing above the door, he thrust it over his head in satisfaction, his jaw tensing in futile disgust as he considered the colleagues he cared for and the decisions they had made. The security officers that had now enlisted in the Trevakian Marine Corps, albeit the new human and allied contingent, a mixed division comprised of surviving experienced soldiers extracted from their new allies and young men and women from his staff, even a couple of Americans and British soldiers having enlisted.
The shoulder and chest armour tensed briefly around his upper frame as he smiled fondly, a hand running across the thick resin protection, David turning his shoulder to proudly examine his rank’s star and military decoration. His thoughts grimly wandered to consider it was the perfect new unit to create…to motivate and draw the young into a war that seemed never ending and overwhelming in its brutality and annihilation. He nodded in morose conclusion, glancing briefly back into the reflection of his own eyes…perhaps there was no other way or life to live…there was nowhere to hide now.
A brief knock at the door startled him from his thoughts, his frame jerking in surprise as a muffled voice came from the other side of the reflective resin, ‘Lieutenant Bland? Weapons and tactics training is about to commence in the forward hangar sir.
