Zaxon B: The Final Struggle (Galaxies Collide Book 4)

by Andrew McGregor

  David shrugged, ‘Why not…’ He stared across the brightly lit room, a scientist waving briefly from the far side as he raised a small console, examining the figures displayed. The airport manager turned to stare at Begum slowly, indicating to the scientist, ‘Bright scarlet…the one the man over there is checking…’

  Begum nodded, his voice rising with childlike excitement, ‘This should be interesting…’ He tapped the screen vigorously, glancing out at the scientist and the row numbers to double check. The transparent wall in front of them flickered, the view behind slowly fading as Begum stepped back in satisfaction, his hands rising to his hips, ‘This should only take a twinkle!’

  David grinned widely, ‘A twinkle?’

  Begum spun round, tapping his earpiece in frustration, ‘This wotnot has lowery power…the wordies becoming strange then! I sorry!’

  David laughed out loud, his shoulder shaking as the pilot giggled next to him, the human waving his hand, ‘Don’t be sorry…this is the first time I have really laughed in days!’

  Begum smiled sheepishly, pulling the small electronic device from his ear in frustration and tossing it to one of the honour guard, his voice seeming to cluck and tutt as he requested the soldier retrieve another earpiece. The black uniformed soldier nodded once officially, spinning round on his heels and marching from the room, the other three honour guard adjusting the line behind the visitors.

  The transparent wall flickered once more, then became filled with colours, the footage flying low over lush terrain, David gasping at the beautiful and breath-taking scenery. The film swept across deep blue lakes and fertile land, dark green trees and bushes flowing beneath the camera as it swept onwards, slowly descending towards what seemed like a low hill in the distance, the slopes filled with bushes and colourful ferns.

  Slowing further, the camera seemed to hover then gradually descend towards the bushes below, Begum pointing to a dark recess in the foliage, his frame almost shaking with excitement as he giggled, his stance shifting back and forth.

  David stepped forward, scrutinising the moving picture before them, he eyes straining to identify any movement between the bushes. Then he smiled as Begum squealed with delight, a long thin nose sniffing the air on the screen before them, the furry snout pushing outwards into the light, tongue seeming to taste the atmosphere. Two beady eyes glanced around furtively, the small furry animal stretching out to sense the air and investigate the aromas.

  Begum pushed both his hands across his shoulders, swinging from side to side as he stared up at the cute animal, tears filling the Fahimian’s eyes as he stared longingly at the small creature. David smiled fondly as he witnessed the interpreters clear love of the animal above. Glancing round, he looked back quickly, seeing the honour guard behind were also staring longingly at the screen, emotional moisture filling their eyes.

  David stared at the screen, the cute small brown and white furred animal emerging fully into the light, a short body and thick tail stiffening as it glanced around, then raised its head as if to look at the camera, sniffing further before scuttling away, several smaller animals emerging and running after their mother.

  Begum turned, his eyes glistening in the overhead light, ‘Babies…our planet beauyful!’

  The pilot nodded in agreement, coughing to clear his throat, the emotion rising in him also as the Fahimian translator turned back to the screen, his hand flicking across the panel before him as the film receded, then disappeared, ‘We go…memory hurt!’

  Emerging from the incubation unit, they strode to the left along the long corridor, the lights sparkling above and across the honour guard helmets as they progressed. The forth soldier ran from behind, bowing his head as he handed Begum another earpiece, the small translator attaching the device onto his small right lobe and turning to smile, ‘There…I speak better now…’ The Fahimian hesitated, seeming to listen to updates streaming through his communication device, his head dropping as he nodded. Glancing up, he smiled reassuringly, ‘Now I take you to the transport bay where they have loaded your ship. Twenty-two of our space fighters will escort you with another ten in reserve…we are determined these rifles will not fall into the enemy’s hands.’

  David’s eyes widened, the pilot nodding his thanks as he spoke softly, ‘We would like to thank your people not only for our rescue…but for your hospitality and kind gifts and assistance.’ He indicated to David, ‘It is a great honour for myself and this human to have engaged with your people and culture and for being fortunate enough to experience your incubation laboratories and clear love of animals. We will bring this news as well as your gifts to our Empire and ensure you of our continued efforts to defeat a common enemy.’ The pilot slowed, seeming to consider his next statement carefully, ‘Your culture may be temporarily unable to continue the fight…but this in no way reflects on your resolve and we hope to engage in a further meaningful relationship in the near future.’

  Begum turned, glancing at David, then the pilot and smiling thoughtfully, his hand rising to his eyes as they glistened once more with emotion as he nodded, ‘I will inform my commander…our supreme leader of your statement…it gives me great pleasure to have spoken to you both and to have provided an insight into our culture.’ He hesitated, listening intently to the device attached to his ear, ‘Our people thank you for your determination and sacrifice against the Morgons…without which we would have been surely wiped from existence. We now have hope for the future and once we locate a new home, we will continue the struggle.’

  The airport manager sniffed, clearly overwhelmed with emotion, his voice breaking, ‘Although earth has just joined the struggle…I believe you would be welcome to communicate with us and share our knowledge and cultures.’

  The Fahimian nodded again, bowing his head, ‘My people will…are…very ready to reach out to new allies, but have to locate a suitable home first. Our old allies are now in immense peril and we have lost communication with many of their planets and outposts…we fear the worst. Creating new links may save their civilisations too…’ He turned away, clearly becoming quite distressed as he cleared his throat, a higher pitched voice continuing as he adjusted his cloak, ‘Let us continue gentlemen…I believe your craft is ready as are the escorts…as you will surely understand, we are keen to gain our space fighters back as soon as possible.’ The small interpreter strode forward, indicating for them to follow, ‘There will be a short ceremony in the transport bay, please do not be too alarmed.’

  Striding along several more well-lit corridors, David glanced down at his uniform, the scratched boots and washed combats seeming ill placed for any kind of ‘ceremony’. He whispered furtively to the pilot, ‘We are not dressed correctly for any formal situation…what will I do?’

  The pilot shook his head dismissively, grinning incredulously at his remark, ‘We have no options for changing for dinner now…we are only representatives and they understand that…it is probably a small speech and perhaps a further trinket as a gift, do not be too concerned…’

  The airport manager glanced own at his combat uniform once more in despondency, ‘I wish I had my suit…I could probably represent earth far more effectively then. I feel such a fraud in this uniform…’

  The pilot grinned widely, ‘You are…a fraud that is! You presented yourself as an experienced commander to me and I know now that was not the case.’ He slapped David’s shoulder armour playfully, ‘If we had not gained the laser rifle and experience of this race I would have probably killed you myself in that craft just to provide more food!’

  David’s eyes widened in shock, his voice a low hiss, ‘I only wanted to help my staff…’

  The pilot giggled, ‘I know…but you didn’t help me much as a result. We took one transport craft out of our garrison numbers…not the best reference when they are desperately needed!’

  The airport manager bowed his head in shame, ‘I did not think of that…I am sorry…’

  The pilot slapped his shoulder again mor
e firmly, ‘By chance…we now have a weapon my people have being trying to develop for years. Be sorry, but not for too long…we may have been present for the breakthrough our races need for survival!’

  They turned into the next corridor, David nodding and realising in further surprise he had seen no crew recently, the party progressing towards two large doors ahead. Begum stopped abruptly next to a control panel, tapping an entrance code and laying his small hand against the surface. A faint hum of motors followed, the doors parting swiftly as David gasped in surprise, the pilot staring almost transfixed at the scene ahead.

  The transport bay was dimly lit from above, sparkling low beam recessed spotlights shining down on the polished landing deck, the steel alloy seeming to glint as the small party stared out. Stretching for two hundred and fifty metres to the front and an equal distance to the sides, the ember green glow of the defensive shield seemed to glimmer across the wide opening to space, the stars seeming to brightly sparkle in the deepest black distance.

  One hundred and fifty metres from the open doorway, the rear of the transport craft stood open, two Fahimians in grey loading overalls checking the tenseness of restraining straps against the silver boxes loaded into the hold. Between the doorway and the craft stood lines of black combat dressed infantry, their silver reinforcement armour sparkling in the overhead light, assault rifle butts resting on the marbles floor, their right hands clutching the muzzles.

  A small red cloaked commander stepped out just before the transport craft, glancing at the figures in the door opening, her voice rising to command the soldiers, ‘Yaraktoff!’

  Hundreds of boots slammed together as rifles were raised horizontally before the figures for possible inspection, David Bland staring out to either side and realising the sheer scale of the ceremony. Lines of Fahimian soldiers extended towards the side walls of the transport bay, his estimation the line contained over one hundred and fifty soldiers lined on either side, depth of the soldiers probably containing fifty lines each.

  Begum turned sharply and ushered the two dumbstruck figures forward, leaning forward to whisper excitedly as he touched his earpiece, ‘This is in celebration of your races…your unyielding determination to face the Morgons and a demonstration of our admiration for a struggle we have temporarily lost…’

  The small figure spun on his heels, sweeping the red cloak over his shoulder and striding forward confidently, indicating to the soldiers on either side, ‘These soldiers are presenting in your honour…’ He glanced round hissing furtively, ‘Nod your approval and smile!’

  David Bland wiped a tear from his eye, stepping forward and forcing a confident smile as he looked to either side, seeing the soldiers staring determinedly ahead, Begum continuing, ‘We respect the fight you are pursuing and all these soldiers are fully aware of the loss of Contax Base and the battle for Alexion One…we are listening to the messages from both you and the enemy and are informing our people of updates on a war that we did not know existed far from our own galaxy.’

  The pilot stopped suddenly, his voice rising in excitement, ‘You said you were listening to Morgon transmissions?’ Can you do that?’

  The small Fahimian spun round, seeming surprised, ‘Why yes…but only some…we broke into their basic codes a short time ago. We are listening to some of their transmissions without their knowledge I believe…’

  The Trevakian grinned widely, ‘This is just too good to be true…can we please have access to these decipher codes?’

  Begum shrugged, ‘I will check and arrange if acceptbale…we have wotnot code and diddles for assistiancees…’ He tapped his earpiece frantically as David giggled, the Fahimian glaring disapprovingly at the honour soldier behind them, ‘Me apologeees…power gong…against!’

  They strode forward as David bit the inside of his cheek to prevent laughter, nodding to either side as the soldiers stood stiffly to attention, all staring ahead uniformly. The airport manager began to rise in stature, his frame responding as he realised the seriousness of the soldiers around them, their frames stiffened to seeming unbearable intensity as they stared forward, his appreciation and emotion rising dramatically.

  Nearing the transport craft, the uniforms of the presentation became more camouflaged, David understanding the figures were probably special forces and commandos. His heart raced with the realisation the figures were saluting them, his mind beginning to become engulfed with guilt as he considered his own contributions compared with the lines of combat ready veterans and what the Fahimians had suffered, now on their last flight from extinction.

  The pilot nudged him, startling David from his consuming thoughts as the Trevakian whispered, ‘We turn at the entrance to the craft…I will prompt you…we salute in respect and stand for a few seconds.’ The pilot swallowed hard, ‘Then we will leave…’

  Reaching the sloped open rear door, Begum moved to the side, the two taller figures turning in unison as the pilot coughed softly, both stiffening and raising their right fists to their chests in salute. The Fahimian lines stood in poignant silence as the light sparkled across their helmets, a commander stepping forward at the far end, a jagged sword raised before his face as he stamped to attention, his raised voice resounding across the large transport bay, ‘Harashan!’

  David’s frame jumped as the boots cracked on the shining floor, the assault rifle butts lowered to the floor almost mechanically as hundreds of faces swung round to stare at the small vessel, the airport manager gasping in awe at the unison of the soldiers as his emotions soared further.

  One of the honour guards stepped behind Begum sheepishly, discretely handing the translator another earpiece as the Fahimian stepped forward, his hand extending slowly in friendship as he forced the device onto his ear, ‘I hope we will meet again…I have enjoyed your company and my people are confident we will become allies in the future…’ He glanced away as if struggling with his emotions before looking back, ‘It has been a pleasure to meet you both and I wish for your continued survival in these dangerous times…’

  David nodded, his own voice breaking, ‘Thank you for your assistance and for the new weapons…we will ensure they are used against our common enemy as soon as humanly possible.’

  The pilot glanced at him grinning, ‘The Trevakian Empire will always be in your debt for this technological advancement…the Morgons will pay for the devastation they have imposed on your civilisation.’

  Begum nodded as the two taller figures turned, slowly advancing up the rear ramp and disappearing into the small transport vessels cargo hold.

  Chapter Nineteen: The Eastern Front Situation

  Captain Mason lowered himself gingerly onto some supply crates, his body aching heavily from his injuries as his thoughts began to struggle and become confused from the concussion. Watching the commanders lean wearily across the centre table, he listened to their hushed whispers, muffled explosions resounding outside the basement.

  Dust drifted down from the ceiling as the officers summarised the situation, the two other villages to the north having fallen to the enemy, the survivors and wounded now fleeing through the tunnels towards them as engineers prepared to demolish the dark passageways behind.

  The Trevakian commander in full combat uniform eventually straightened up, glancing across the maps one of the officers stretched across the table, his eyes straining, ‘So…Harg One and Harg Two have fallen, that leaves just us and some of the smallholdings if they still survive. Fortunately, we have stalled them for now…with the assistance of the Morasat battery.’ He waved his hand across the old mining maps on the table, ‘We are surrounded by overwhelming enemy forces and have no contact with the outside…’ He indicated to one of the intelligence officers, the robust female wearing a dirt caked Alexion One uniform, ‘What were the last positions we know the enemy held around Morasat?’

  The Trevakian woman stepped forward, ‘We believe the Morgons to be holding positions before the bluffs that lead to the capital…those are the last defensiv
e lines we have in that sector and from where Hecklan launched his attack…’

  The commander grimaced, his tone unforgiving, ‘Yes…I know what the damn fool did…weakened our entire position. Without the Blue Leopards and our…’ He glanced furtively across at Mason, ‘…our brave new allies holding the high ground, the enemy can concentrate their forces where they wish and attack at will. The Blue Leopards were a threat whilst they remained entrenched, but now no longer…’ He shrugged, attempting to calm his temper and indicating to the intelligence officer once more, ‘Anyway…continue please…’

  The Trevakian female edged forward, leaning on the side of the large table, ‘We were able to hear distant fighting to the north and south and believe the Trevakian units to have been only some fifteen clicks from here…but, now we have no reports and the gunfire in our own villages have prevented us from gaining any more information.’ She sighed, pointing to two spots on the map, ‘There were garrisoned troops at these cave sections…both north and south of the bluffs, but we must consider these have now been overrun. Reports from Captain Mekeert of the 16th Motorised Division indicate there were Morgon transporters in these caves, so heaven help us all if they are able to reactivate these with a good power supply…they will be then moving soldiers around the battlefield at will.’

  The middle aged commander sighed, rubbing his forehead, ‘Where is the 16th Motorised?’

  The intelligence officer nodded, ‘To the north…what is left of it. Apparently the Blue Leopard reserves and special equipment were committed there as part of that advance, so the fighting will have been heavy if the Morgons attack them…’

  The commander ran his hand across the map, indicating to the fallen villages and other hamlets, ‘So when do we expect the Morgons to turn their full attention to us?’