Nearing the gates, Malikkas groaned loudly as he realised one of the solid reinforced resin barriers was warped and bent upwards at the point where the gates met, a wide open gap providing no security and having been forced against straining steel reinforced locks with immense determined strength. Collapsing to his knees, he scrambled forward, his head jerking from side to side in horror as another howl resounded a lot nearer, his honed instincts professing alarmingly that he was now being hunted, that the beasts were calling hungrily out to each other.
Pushing through the opening, his eyes widened at the devastation inside, the faint stench of burnt flesh, scorched buildings and equipment engulfing his nostrils. Several of the structures were still smouldering, a torn and battered poster on one of the walls depicting a dirt smeared Trevakian Marine, a scrawled message in splattered and dried blood, ‘Zaxon B Reserve Battalion: Our Time is Now.’
The silhouettes of several contorted, dismembered and shattered bodies lay across a dried blood-soaked compact forward courtyard, the damaged buildings lining the higher walls with firing points above, many with further dismembered and charred frames of the defenders slumped and lying across the rooftops, a number hanging from the edges. Most of the corpses showed signs of decay and the viciousness of the atmosphere, the bodies emaciated and broken open, stone scarabs having fed from the dead flesh after scavenging predators had taken their fill of fresh meat.
Malikkas’s head dropped as he retched, the stench of death almost overwhelming his senses as he crawled forward, his senses almost overpowered with utter defeat and abject misery. Another hungry howl pushed him instinctively forwards through several of the small scavengers as he kicked out reactively, repulsion for the scarabs surging through his chest as he gasped in panic. Dried and oxygen starved crimson blood trails and pools filled his vision as he coughed uncontrollably, his chest shaking in agony as his empty stomach churned, his sight blurred from tears and lack of sustenance.
Gasping in the thin oxygenated air, he struggled upwards, clutching his heaving stomach to stagger forward, his eyes darting from side to side across the figures for a weapon, the howling increasing as he drew breath in horror, glimpsing the tear marks on the nearest uniforms and bodies. His befuddled mind struggled with what his conscious training was screaming through his psyche, that he had stumbled into the newly occupied lair of the beasts that were hunting him.
His face spun from side to side in near panic and desperation, a dull pain filling his Herrakian temple from the excruciating and violent chest rasps, his throat wheezing for air as he stumbled forward, kicking the despised scarabs aside as the small beasts carried greying flesh fragments across the courtyards to several dens.
Then he saw it ahead through the swirling dust, his eyes stinging and bloodshot…the slightly open door to the armoury, a small reinforced shed between the resin canteen and barrack buildings, both with heavily scored walls and some cracked and holed sections. His heart pounded as he lunged towards possible safety, his breath caught as he heard a close deep growl and nearer snarl, his pained legs thrusting across the deep dust as he stumbled…the hunting beasts were in the compound behind him.
Chapter One: Zaxon B under Siege
Admiral Shadian stared at the flickering screens before him at his command console, viewing the garbled messages being received by Alexion One, the large space station orbiting the desolate mining planet below, his eyes straining as he attempted to decipher some of the meanings. Sparks erupted from some of the overhead cabling, the glowing debris flickering as it fell from damaged overhead electrical junctions, the usually shining floor and terminals now coated in smeared dirt, some screens blank and inoperable.
Turning, he swept some of the dust from his grimy blue uniform, raising his voice across the bridge of the station, six intelligence officers working frantically on their consoles, ‘Do we have any full reports…these are too broken and illegible?’
A young female intelligence officer glanced up, her face smeared with blood and dirt, ‘Morgon jamming still affecting our message reading Admiral…Fahimian engineers are working on the problem, but their software is not compatible with ours…the systems are currently merging and translating each other.’ She drew breath, the station shuddering as the upper turret guns of the station fired out towards the Morgon craft and bombers still fighting, ‘Some enemy transports are still leaving the surface, but now in fewer numbers…our ground forces are still in insufficient strength to advance…the Fahimians are reinforcing our forward positions at present. The Morgons are heavily entrenched to the far east…reports of numerous laser turrets with rocket batteries and forward reconnaissance reports…they do not seem to be dismantling their positions.’
Admiral Shadian’s eyes strained suspiciously, ‘What do you mean they are not dismantling…that only some transports are leaving? Are you saying they are digging in?’
He leant forward, staring across at the intelligence ensign, the woman shaking her head in frustration as her hands flicked across her screen, her voice shaking, ‘The Fahimians cannot break them with air power alone and we have too few fighters left to support…our new allies report strong anti-air batteries to the east…Morgon patrols have been withdrawn, but it would be suicidal to launch air assaults…’ She nodded dismissively, ‘It seems the enemy are strengthening their defences with initial analysis. The Morasat battery reports they are out of range…it will have to be ground troops if we are to attack and then the Fahimians say the defences are formidable, that we should expect heavy casualties…there are simply insufficient soldiers available.’
Shadian nodded despondently, ‘What about in the west…Contax Base and that area?’
Another female intelligence officer rose uniformly, her boots clicking together, voice official, ‘The Red Leopards are holding the enemy sir…we have several requests from their commander to advance, all declined by Morasat command…they are wary of another ambush.’
