Across the now smouldering international airport, flames still licked from smashed terminal windows and lounges as Morgon heavy artillery and ammunition was being unloaded, crews with grey lightly armoured bodies pushing mortars and mobile pieces into place, the barrels aiming out towards a still brightly lit city beyond the western airport perimeter.
Sporadic fighting still continued in some of the outer airport buildings, the few surviving defence forces…security, customs officers and police gathered in small groups and continuing a struggle that could only result ultimately in their own deaths. A collective all-consuming hatred for the invaders was now blinding a logical judgement to flee, the men and women being hunted across the remote offices and cargo sheds by squads of camouflaged Morgon grenadiers, the invaders impressed by the defensive guile of the locals, their decapitated skulls now gruesomely prized as souvenirs of a new battle.
Many of the dwindling number of grim and determined defenders were deeply traumatised or suffering from shock, witnessing at close hand the sickening slaughter of those that reluctantly surrendered, the enemy hacking defenceless and wounded colleagues or countrymen to bits with sparkling double bladed swords seemingly for sport…the Morgons did not recognise surrendering enemy combatants as deserving of respect. The helpless were different…they were there to be plundered and consumed.
Aat stared grimly into the flickering glow filled distance, tears filling the slim twenty one year old’s brown eyes as he glimpsed the collapsed airframes and smouldering warped aircraft debris that once displayed the proud national carrier colours of many nations from across the globe. Panning the small pair of binoculars round, he sighed deeply, seeing the burning wrecks of two Boeing aircraft, the British Airways and American Airlines 747 jumbos sitting on remote stands at the end of one of the two runways.
He had been immensely proud to join the security search staff at the airport, his mother and father encouraging him to learn English and Chinese to progress in a modern diversifying world. Working hard during his years’ service, he had become recognised as a reliable and trustworthy member of staff, perhaps soon destined for promotion as his superiors considered seconding him to differing departments for experience, the first opportunity arising to work with airfield security.
Lowering the glasses, he ducked down in the first floor office, glass shards crunching under his boots as he slumped wearily against the wall, looking towards the three shivering figures opposite. Their light blue shirts and black uniformed trousers caked with dirt and sweat, the four unarmed security officers having been patrolling the outer perimeter fence when fighting had erupted across the airport.
Initially running breathlessly to a cargo entry security post as explosions rocked one of the distant airport terminals, they were ordered to an airline crew building further along the perimeter as a designated collection point, a virtually panicking senior airport officer sending three other following officers to join them. They had sprinted away, hearing jet engines scream down the runway, tracers rising after the large aircraft as it swept upwards, Aat just glancing the American airlines tailfin, his features straining in dread as he wished he was aboard the jumbo jet.
In the ensuing confusion, the small group of security officers had been forgotten, first from the rising panic and then as the Morgons advanced on the security post, slaughtering the cowering staff one by one and setting up defensive positions to secure their positions around the shattered buildings…any time for potential escape had passed.
Aat shuddered as the almost pleading voice opposite, the younger male officer sobbing, ‘What do we do now? Stay here…we are already dead like the others…’
The older stout officer next to the youngster grasped his shoulder tightly, the figures sat huddled and low next to filing cabinets against the wall opposite that backed onto the stairs. Aat stared up at the maps above them, flight manifests and crew member’s names attached to differing aircraft, the office manager having been planning future crew rosters the day before.
He sighed, tears once again filling his eyes as he realised one of the bloodied mutilated bodies on the floor below had probably been working in the shattered office they now sought refuge in just hours earlier, the small airline party on the ground floor abruptly ending as panic spread across the cowering guests. First from distant gunfire and explosions as the whimpering guests hid under desks, then from the lights that swept through the windows as transport ships patrolled the perimeter, the side doors open as Morgon machine gunners scanned the terrain below.
The airline staff had sat in virtual silence as the lights passed, then stiffened as the shrill sounds of alloy armoured boots approached, the loud cracking of steel against the front doors as they shattered inwards. The two tall black armoured soldiers had stepped into the wide office, red sparkling eyes scanning the cowering human figures, the airline manager stepping forward reluctantly and pleading for the lives of his employees.
The black helmets had studied the shorter human, the man swallowing hard in rising terror as he stammered that the staff were unarmed and could not inflict any harm, his eyes dropping in dread as he heard muffled screams from a nearby building, the rasp of swords against walls and desks as a neighbouring airline crew were hacked to pieces.
One of the black helmets had lowered to one side, the armoured plate sparkling as flames erupted outside, the building next door being set alight by the Morgons as further horrified screams from inside the nearby block intensified. The red eyes sparkled, an armoured fist rising suddenly to grasp the airline manager’s throat, the sharp twist and crack sealing his fate as the body went limp, discarded to the floor
