The corporal nodded, lowering his own upper weight and turning away, his eyes widening as his boots slammed instinctively together, a fist rising to his right chest in recognition, the female ensign stiffening and following his lead as she recognised two of the figures approach, ‘Evening General...Captain Dugachard...’ Her eyes widened, twenty other pairs of boots slamming together across the fitness deck in respect, fists rising to chests as the portly general waved for the personnel to relax, the two Trevakian officers followed by a smaller tanned female in a dark uniform. A lavish scarlet cloak was draped over the Fahimian’s sparklingly lined shoulder plates, silver shin protectors glinting in the overhead lighting as she nodded, attempting to conceal a cunning smile, the shining black helmet bordered with ear protectors.
Riaz was still breathing heavily, his back being massaged by the undulating rubber padded matt, endorphins surging through his body at unprecedented levels, his mind drifting as he relaxed with eyes firmly closed, the last energy surges from the overwhelmed training uniform attempting to massage his weary arm and leg muscles.
His thoughts wandered almost fondly back to Zaxon B...of Contax Base and Zangara Outpost, the firefights and snow billowing across his frame as he stood on sentry duty, the upper gantry levels of the fort exposed to the elements. His chest heaved as he considered how almost beautifully barren the landscape had been, the dishevelled village barely lit with torches, the grins of sentries against the bitter cold and the warm meals from mess tins you simply cracked on the ground, the initial flavours of limited choice but ones the Trevakians had chosen to match human palates, their allies promising more once their ‘guinea pigs’ had voiced their approval.
Riaz realised it had been at the remote post that his intrigue and motivation had risen to join the Trevakian Marine Corps, the regretful death of some of the villagers and their ultimate love of the pastured animals, the adrenalin fuelled skirmishes with Silakians and his ultimate fear of the Morgon soldier prompting his final decision. Now he knew he had made the right decision, a deep warm sense of belonging and camaraderie spreading through his chest as he considered his friends and new comrades...even his fitness now far surpassed anything his body had previously been capable of on earth...this ship was now his home and his mother would surely be proud once she witnessed him in full dress uniform, her son now a decorated marine.
His thoughts faltered slightly, a nearby cough confusing him as he then considered his car parked at the airport would now be covered in dirt...something he had always been irritated by, any blemish, even a finger print on the glass seeming irrelevant now...then the cough came a gain, more determined, his eyes flickering open as he realised the sound was above him.
Taking a second to focus, his body stiffened as he forced himself upwards, captain Dugachard chuckling at his obvious alarm, ‘Stay easy Riaz...you must be exhausted...’
The soldier before them was spluttering, attempting to turn on the mat, Begum giggling as the general concealed a smile, dark brown wide eyes staring up at them innocently as a weary trooper pushed his tired legs upwards, stiffening to attention, his body temporarily struggling to maintain its balance as he flushed with embarrassment, ‘S-sorry General...Captain...’ He nodded in courtesy and then slight confusion to the smaller Begum, unsure of his rank, a fist rising to his chest instinctively as his head moved sharply to stare ahead, ‘I-I was relaxing...very tired. The exercise routine was...erm, a little punishing.’
The Trevakian captain smiled warmly, ‘We know...we ordered the Fahimians to reset the equipment for you and I think four others...a special programme to determine how good you are.’ She looked away briefly as if fleetingly embarrassed to stare into his eyes, ‘We are impressed...you have shown tremendous determination and agility against the most difficult routine we could devise.’ She stepped forward, moving fully into his line of sight, a seductive smile crossing her lips as she hesitated, ‘The general and our Fahimian allies had requested we join him tomorrow but wished to see the five finest soldiers under my command in action before assigning our unit to them.’ She slapped his shoulder, Riaz’s eyes widening in surprise, ‘You have ensured that happens...convinced them of our worth and capability. You show exceptional promise...’
Her eyes seemed to stare deep into his briefly, ‘We will be issuing you with one of the latest weapons for the battle that will commence in the next few days...you are also now second in command of your squad...reporting to Hardie.’ She stepped back, the general nodding his approval as captain Dugachard continued, indicating to the smaller figure next to them, ‘The first company of my battalion will fight with the Fahimians and Commander Begum here in the coming battle...a special operation. The remainder will continue with another mission...’ She grinned at the bewildered soldier, ‘Now, what do you have to say to that?’
Riaz swallowed hard, his dried voice rasping as he stiffened further in pride, ‘It will be my...our honour, captain!’
He swallowed again, Dugachard recognising an intriguing feature that she had seen in him before, ‘Go on...say what you feel...’
A fleeting smile swept across the asian soldier’s lips as he whispered, ‘Erm...I just wanted to know...who was the best out of the five candidates?’
Chapter Eleven: Zaxon B Updates
Red Leopard Defensive Positions, West of Morasat
General Gristin stared down at the flickering display of the land before him, the command table portraying identified Morgon positions before and around Contax Base, a short distance from his frontal command post, a camouflaged reinforced resin dome at the outskirts of a petrified forest. Grimacing, he ran his finger across the main track leading to the mining village, lines straining across his forehead as he considered the limited width of his possible advance, the enemy able to concentrate
