The Morgon soldiers behind charged over their fallen bodies, more descending the stairs as pulse grenades flew through the air, their detonations throwing defenders from their positions as the screaming intensified. The specialist troops rose upwards, brandishing ceremonial swords as they surged after the forward soldiers, the front Morgons now nearing the defences as the shrieking reached new heights.
From below, Gurkhas charged up the stairs, their commander committing all his men to the battle as the screams above heightened, many wide eyed in shock as they reached Deck 67, numerous defenders laying still, some bodies torn and eaten by the vicious toxic green slime that seemed to drip from the walls. The stench of burnt ammunition and acrid smoke filled the air as the elite Nepalese soldiers drew their Kukris and surged forward, vengeance and hatred filling their eyes as the flashes through the smoke lit up their tanned faces.
Behind them on Deck 66, detachments of Spanish and German Special forces (Unidad de Operaciones Especiales and Kommando Spezialkrafte (KSK)) checked their weapons, their eyes wide with apprehension as the smoke and toxic aroma drifted down the stairs, their commanders glancing nervously at each other as the screams and shouting became more desperate.
Numerous wounded were dragged unceremoniously down the steps, the medic soldiers turning abruptly and running back up to retrieve more, the soldiers staring in horror at the injuries as Alexion One medical staff rushed forward to retrieve the casualties. Several of the specialist soldiers instinctively lunged from their crouched positions to assist as their commanders ordered their men forward, the boots clanking on the thick resin floors as the elite troops advanced upwards cautiously.
The space fighters surged into the atmosphere, a couple of pilots glancing longingly at the distant lights below, their fear and apprehension for what was to come rising considerably. The vessels bounced and shook in the turbulence as their hulls shrieked, the flyers’ eyes widening in their helmets as the canopy blast visors automatically deployed.
Breaking free and into the upper atmosphere, the vessels settled, the flights becoming smoother and more steady, the flyers checking their instruments as Alexion One began to fill their forward screens. The blast screens slowly lowered, several smiling as they glimpsed the sights that had drawn them to their chosen professions, the darkness of space broken only by the stars and tiny moving vessels.
The space station above them was vast, stretching upwards and away from the planet, its thick silver sides seeming impenetrable and the ultimate safe haven. Then several glimpsed the flashes above, the dots of Morgon fighter squadrons sweeping in towards the station, their guns blazing as they chased the defending fighters, the large station guns firing laser blasts out towards the incoming enemies.
Explosions rocked space above, the enemy banking away before shooting off to the sides or upwards, keen to avoid the high powered blue and red laser charges that swept out across the darkness. Several stared off into the distance, seeing the tiny distant Morgon vessels across orbit unloading the many transports towards the planet’s surface or refitting returning fighters for the battle. One ship was now assigned to supplying transports for the battle on Alexion One, shock troops now loading their vessels with a heavy fighter escort awaiting outside the landing bays.
Second Flight Officer Somas’s voice crackled in their ears, his voice becoming heightened with adrenalin, ‘We will form up on the far side of the space station, then perform several sweeps to protect Alexion One…’ He checked the instruments above his head, the computers reporting all system were functioning correctly, ‘Stay in formation…our mission is to intercept Morgons near the station and destroy them…’ Somas hesitated, then continued, a determined tone in his voice, ‘…avoid chasing the enemy away from the protection of Alexion One, they will only isolate you and that will be your end…no heroics, we need to protect our numbers, understand?’
The radio speakers clicked several times, the new recruits grimacing in their cockpits as their fighters swept behind the station, the flashing lights of the many floors sweeping past across their clear resin canopies. Lights flashed across their consoles, warnings of enemy craft being close, the pilots becoming more pensive as their adrenalin began to pulse, heart rates rising dramatically.
On Deck 67 of Alexion One, the Gurkhas surged through the billowing smoke, screams and shrieks filling the air as the Morgon infantry crashed through the front defences, slashing and clubbing at the few surviving defenders as the soldiers and Trevakian volunteers rose to flee.
As each soldier charged forward, their eyes were on obstructions beneath as the swirling smoke and dust obscured forward vision, silhouettes suddenly rising before them as more grenades flashed through the billowing shroud. The Gurkha captain rose with his men as they surged past, assault weapons raised and flashing as the gunfire and shrieks became deafening. Nepalese elite troops swept into the Morgon front soldiers, their long knives flashing as they realised in surprise the sheer size of the enemy combatants.
The smaller Nepalese soldiers leapt onto the eight feet tall Morgon figures, their blades cracking against the high density armour as they screamed in hatred. The Morgon grenadiers and infantry thrashed out at their attackers, unused to such a determined foe, the Kukri blades thrust into gaps in armour, several piercing the high density mesh beneath as the Morgon victims screamed in pain and hatred.
Blood splattered across the walls as the fighting became more medieval, blades cracking against armour or bone as agonising shrieks resounded along the corridor, more and more soldiers from either side crashing into the bitter melee fighting. Gunshots and burst of fire rang out, the detonation of grenades and high pitched shrieks as the battle progressed, more and more figures from either side charging forward.
The ten fighters swept round the furthermost edge of Alexion One, the after burn causing engine flashes from the rear of the vessels as they increased speed dramatically. Manoeuvring into a ‘V’ formation, they tore towards the Morgon fighters ahead, the black craft flashing up on their consoles as the laser guns crackled with static energy.
Somas shouted harshly into his microphone, keen for the new flyers not to make a mistake, the pilots listening intently as they neared the enemy vessels, ‘One sweep through the Morgon formation…aim for their transports and then bank hard…back towards Alexion One. Draw their fighters onto the station guns! No heroics!’
The radios clicked in response, Somas smiling briefly before checking the flashing instruments in front of him, then staring out of the cockpit canopy as the craft swept forward. The Morgon fighters seemed still in formation, flying around their transport vessels for protection as they neared Alexion One, their pilots oblivious to the threat that neared by the second.
The fighter war continued both above and below the Morgon formation, Trevakian pilots flying for their lives as they attempted to draw the enemy fighters onto the station guns. Behind the transports, a squadron of fighter bombers flew towards the vast station, their targeting computers plotting a route to the two main transport bays on the lower section, the fighters to escort them onwards once the transports had attached to the breached decks above.
The Morgon pilots were checking their flightpath, the flickering computer screens in front of them continually readjusting the route in reaction to the fighter battle above and below. One of the transport co-pilots was staring at the space station ahead, examining the extensive scorch marks and floating debris being sucked into space from the upper breaches.
The black armoured muscular frame suddenly stiffened, a jolt of alarm surging through the co-pilot’s chest as he glimpsed the moving dots ahead, the small vessels sweeping downwards to fly at his speed towards the formation. An armoured glove rose, pointing towards the oncoming threat, the pilot following the direction and screeching into his microphone with alarm.
Eighteen of the thirty black sleek fighters peeled away from the formation, their engines glowing as they surged towards the perceived threat, the underwing gu
ns bristling with static charge as they increased speed. Blast screens slipped upwards as the Morgon pilots licked their scaled lips in relish, one of the Trevakian silver fighter hulls glistening in the distance as they swept forward to intercept.
Second Flight Officer Somas gritted his teeth in frustration, warning lights flashing across his cockpit as the numerous identified Morgon craft neared, the alarms becoming vocal as his eyes widened, ‘Warning…missile lock! Enemy squadron moving to within firing range…take evasive action!’
Reluctantly, he grasped the microphone button on his controls, hesitating before depressing it, his voice filling with urgency, ‘Break off the attack! Morgon fighters gaining…prepare to break formation and head back for the rear side of Alexion One…they are too powerful! Draw them back to the space station!’
Several clicks followed, his eyes widening as the cockpit voice surged in his ear, seeming to be more desperate, ‘Multiple missiles incoming! Missile lock! Missile lock! Take evasive action!’
Somas stared out of the cockpit window, seeing the flashes of light hurtling towards his formation, his hands grasped the controls tightly, yanking them upwards as he shouted desperately into the microphone, ‘First section follow my lead…second section follow number two, full thrust downwards and bank sharply round in the upper atmosphere!’
The two sections parted at high speed, rockets surging after the craft as they soared upwards and towards the planet, Somas biting his lower lip as the computerised voice spoke harshly through the helmet speakers, ‘Missiles closing…increase velocity!’ Pushing the controls forward forcefully, the craft surged forward, four flyers behind increasing their speed to keep up. Morgon craft streamed after their prey as Somas twisted the stick before him, the space fighter flipping over and banking sharply towards Alexion One, the engines roaring loudly as maximum power was applied.
A bright flash behind, Soma’s craft bucking as debris hit the rear hull, his head shaking in grim despondency as one of the Trevakian fighters exploded, then another, the blast buffeting the two remaining vessels behind as the pilots applied maximum power, their teeth clenched in terror. He screamed through the microphone, his eyes welling with emotion as two Morgon craft swept downwards before him, chasing a stricken Trevakian fighter as the pilot weaved desperately to escape, one of his engines burning fiercely.
Thrusting the stick forward, his craft roared downwards as he banked hard, the missiles sweeping past as they neared Alexion One, the upper laser turrets spinning to target the incoming rockets. Eruptions flashed either side of the Vipers as their craft bounced and shook, debris scoring and scratching the fuselages as the blast screens shot upwards for protection.
Sporadic laser blasts shot past, the black Morgon fighters gaining on their prey, the Trevakian fighters no longer able to match their enemy’s efficient machines with the substitution of numerous salvaged spare parts. Somas shouted frantically into the microphone once more, his body now soaked in sweat, ‘Keep going…right round to the far side of the station…expose the enemy fighters to Alexion One’s guns! We have no choice now!’
One click followed, another blast as several lasers sliced through the rear star fighter, the pilot screaming as fragments flew backwards from the stricken craft, the hull finally imploding as flames seared through the cockpit, exploding as the fuselage crumpled from external pressure.
Somas whined in frustration, his voice shaking, ‘Stay with me! Head straight in towards the space station…the Morgons won’t dare follow!’ He yanked the stick sharply, the craft twisting and spinning round to the right as the inexperienced flyer behind attempted to match his leader’s actions, tears of terror filling their eyes as bright laser lights swept past the blast shields, the outer fuselage shrieking as space debris bounced off the protective plate.
The two craft roared towards the space station, the vast hull filling their viewers as they reached maximum velocity, several of the Morgon fighters peeling off as they realised the cunning ploy, two closing on the rear Trevakian vessel, their pilots over eager to launch missiles and claim a further ‘kill’ to add to their current scores.
The Second Flight Officer narrowed his eyes, seeing several enemy craft bank away sharply on his instruments, the Morgon craft streaking back across space to join the main convoy, another fighter wing commencing an assault on Alexion One’s upper guns to prevent them firing on the transports. The inexperienced flyer behind Somas was jerking his craft from side to side, the two Morgon vessels firing almost continuously behind, the Trevakian pilot whining in fear as the warning lights flashed all across his cockpit.
Somas twisted his stick, his tone tense, ‘Keep flying towards the station…I will shake the pursuers!’ The craft banked sharply and flipped over, spinning as he turned the vessel sharply round, attempting to lure one of the Morgons off the pursuit, laser fire from one of the upper turrets spewing out towards the four craft, his nervousness rising in case he flew inadvertently into the intense light.
Flames poured from the rear engine of the other Trevakian fighter, Somas thrusting his stick forward as the Morgons gained on the stricken vessel, the lasers crackling beneath his wings as his finger moved to the firing button.
The Morgon craft swept after the burning star fighter, anticipation rising of a ‘kill’ as they licked their lips in satisfaction. Lights swept past their cockpits, the new tactics deployed by Morgon fighters proving useful against the station’s guns, the manoeuvres in wide arcs behind an enemy fighter timed with the Trevakian laser cannons rate of fire.
Narrowing the distance, they fired full bursts, laser lights sweeping outwards as Somas screamed in hatred, his craft soaring up from below as the under wing guns blazed. The first Morgon craft flipped sideways, the right wings shattered as the pilot gasped in surprise, his vessel beginning to spin out of control as it roared forward, engines still on full power.
The second Morgon banked sharply to counter, his eyes widening as the first craft exploded, the upper laser guns of the station able to target the immobilised vessel effectively. The remaining black fighter twisted and spun, banking hard left as Somas grinned with surging adrenalin, realising the enemy pilot was highly experienced, his own craft surging after the Morgon for revenge.
Laser bursts swept after the black craft, the experienced pilot banking once again and then swooping downwards, Somas forgetting his own instructions as he chased after the enemy vessel, his teeth gritted in determination as he fired burst after burst.
The two craft shot vertically downwards, the planet’s outer atmosphere filling their viewers as they approached maximum speed, both pilots glancing across their flashing controls as their adrenalin peaked, the Morgon beginning to increase the distance between them as he applied further thrust to the well-honed engines.
Somas smiled in defeat, then felt the adrenalin surge, judging the Morgon’s possible options for escape, his determination rising as he ultimately committed to chasing the enemy down. As the black craft swept downwards, Somas’s finger moved to his missiles, hesitating and discounting the laser targeting rockets and deciding to pursue the Morgon further.
The two fighters neared the outer atmosphere, their engines roaring as the vessels bounced and buffeted from external pressures. Flashes of flame covered their blast screens, the angle of entry causing the fuselages to screech and expand dramatically, steam billowing from the hulls as they thrust through the atmospheric layer, Somas’s eyes transfixed on the flashing dot displayed ahead on his console.
Both vessels hurtled into the lower atmosphere, Somas’s teeth grinding as the Morgon craft continued downwards, the distant lights of Morasat twinkling to the north west. The black craft suddenly levelled out, sweeping low across the terrain and beginning to weave and twist as Somas pulled back gradually on the stick, the Morgon accelerating away in front of him, his eyes narrowing as his finger pressed the laser triggers. Blasts of intense high powered light swept forward, tearing against the rocks in front of the black craft,
shattered stone flying upwards as the Morgon pilot’s eyes opened wide in horror, dust and smoke billowing across his sensors as he attempted to bank, the engines screaming as the explosions below rocked his ship, lasers tearing through the hull as the vessels engines coughed, smoke pouring from the fuselage as the craft rose up and began to turn in the air. The pilot grasped frantically for the eject mechanism to the side of his seat, Somas grinning as the canopy and blast shields shot upwards, the craft becoming an inferno. The Morgon pilot felt his body pushed hard into his seat, flames searing across his armoured uniform as the mechanism fired him upwards and out into the cold air as the craft below nosedived into the mountains, a tumbling mass of fire and acrid black smoke pouring across a small gully on the ground.
Somas’s silver craft swept past the pilot, tearing through the black billowing cloud as he twisted the stick, the space fighter performing a victory roll as the Morgon pilot glared at the disappearing vessel in frustration and hatred, his hands grasping the rocket boosters for the seat and glancing round for a suitable place to land.
The Second Flight Officer banked sharply, his thoughts darkening and moving to the possible fates of his inexperienced flight wing, wondering if some had survived. Somas’s shoulders jumped as the short wave communicator buzzed in his ears, ‘Viper One…we have your signal, this is Morasat Base…return to this station…you are needed! Confirm receipt of message…’
Gurkha Captain Gurung lunged through the billowing smoke with several of his men, the screaming and shrieking echoing around the disorientated soldiers. Glimpsing thrashing figures and hearing the cracks and splintering of steel against steel, they ran to the nearest melee battle to them.
Zaxon B: The Final Struggle (Galaxies Collide Book 4) Page 9