Galactic Frontiers: A Collection of Space Opera and Military Science Fiction Stories

by Jay Allan

  “Last chance, will you come with me?”

  He could already see the answer and didn’t ask again. He quickly checked the signs on the walls around him, found what he wanted, and ran to the nearest docking bay. His last hope was to find a ship equipped with a jump drive, and he would take the opportunity to fly it out. He wished he had a weapon, but he had none. He’d thought about taking Woods’ rifle for just a moment, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not now he believed the officer was the ally he claimed to be.

  Several armed personnel rushed past an intersection that lay ahead. Like the Captain, they didn’t carry anything like the weapons and equipment a fighting man needed to be in this war. The front line regulars used powered suits, and they carried with them enough armour to stop a sizeable weight of small arms fire. In addition, the suits gave them the strength to match many of the more powerful enemies they would encounter. As well as allowing them to deploy more powerful weapons, unlike the rifles these men and women carried. Babacan sensed they were racing to their deaths, but he didn’t feel bad for them. Death was the reality of war, and this one was no different. To a certain degree he still believed in the old Krys motto. Soldiers were merely expendable.

  He reached a small docking bay, but it was empty, although two shuttles waited

  inside, unmanned and unmoving. He peered around. He was suspicious, for it seemed too good to be true. Both looked ready to go, and both would allow him to fly out of the station. They were compact, stubby craft with small wings and clear-glass cockpits. No armour and no weapons, but he didn’t care. No way was going to be able to fight his way out. He had to run.

  Although no weapons were in sight, and neither did he need one, he wanted one. He had no idea what was coming next. He rushed towards one of the shuttles, ready to hightail it out of the station. Reached the door and hit the release. The portal dropped to reveal a ramp into a ship that appeared ready to carry him away. He stepped up the ramp, but something made him stop at the top, a last chance to consider what he was doing. It was then the voice rang out.

  “Babacan.”

  He recognized the Captain who’d chased after him, and he turned.

  “I am not staying, Captain, but you can still come with me.”

  “Maybe if you understood why I plan to stay, you wouldn’t be so hasty about running.”

  He edged into the craft as if to continue, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He stepped back out to talk to Woods.

  “What do you have to tell me?” he demanded.

  “The station may be finished, but I have a duty to perform before it falls.”

  “Spell it out.”

  “There is someone else aboard this station, another Krys soldier like you.”

  “What of it?”

  “I need to ensure he makes it out.”

  “Why?” he asked, surprised he would care so much.

  “Not long after you were wounded, they brought another Krys here in a bad way, much like you. He has been recovering, but unlike you, he is not yet ready to join the fight.”

  “It is every man for himself now. Before long, this station and everyone aboard will be dead or captured. We must all fight to survive.”

  “But this wounded Krys, he is different. I know you would fight for him.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because it is Sarik. One of your people’s most important Generals, the right-hand man to Lord Jafar himself. You owe him your allegiance.”

  He was astonished. “Sarik? Sarik is here?”

  “Yes, his crew couldn’t get him back to their own territory. It was too dangerous, and he was too weak. This is a sanctuary, or at least it was. Another week or two, and Sarik would have been good enough to move. I have no idea if the enemy were aware he was here or not. Maybe that is why they targeted us.”

  “They target everyone,” he grunted, “Bolormaa only wants one thing, the destruction of every people that does not submit to her will.”

  “Perhaps so, but why would they board us? With their weapons and ships they could have laid waste to this station without ever stepping foot aboard.”

  His argument was convincing, but Babacan took another look back into the shuttle. Seeing the cockpit and the flight controls. The freedom that was within his grasp.

  “Please, you know we need you,” pleaded Woods.

  “No, what you need is a miracle.”

  “Isn’t that the business you and Taylor and the rest of his men are in? Miracles? Or so everyone says.”

  “There are no miracles.”

  “Then you must be a real bad ass, so here is your chance to shine.”

  “You talk like I want a medal pinned on my chest…I don’t.”

  Gunfire erupted nearby, and a shot hit Woods. He staggered forward, racing towards Babacan to take cover in the shuttle as more shots landed around his feet. He hit the side of the craft hard, his arm bleeding from a wound, and Babacan checked him fast out of force of habit.

  “You were lucky.”

  “Lucky? I just got shot.”

  “And you are still alive.”

  “I won’t be alive for much longer if you won’t help.”

  Again he refused. “Come with me, and we can escape together.”

  “No, I am not leaving. I won’t leave without Sarik.”

  Babacan couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed. A human was willing to stay and fight against seemingly impossible odds to help one of his own kin, when he would not.

  Woods tried a last time. “So what’s it gonna be? You lot have a reputation for being the toughest in the Alliance. Are you gonna run from a fight now?”

  Babacan groaned. There was no escape. He couldn’t get out of the situation Woods was putting him in. He bowed to the inevitable.

  “All right, let’s do this.”

  He hauled the Captain to his feet, and that was when they noticed the hole in the receiver of Woods’ rifle. On the one hand he was lucky the round hadn’t been a little higher or lower, as it would have killed him. However, it was little relief now when he faced the enemy with nothing but his sidearm. With a sense of foreboding, he drew it out and made it ready.

  “This just keeps getting better,” he muttered, “How many are there?”

  “Two, I think.”

  “What kind?”

  “Morohtan warriors.”

  That was the last news Babacan wanted to hear, and confirmed his assessment of the situation. They were doomed. Morohtan warriors were the toughest foot soldiers in Bolormaa’s army, four-legged creatures with a humanoid upper body. They wore thick armour and were more intelligent than most of the soldiers in Bolormaa’s armies, made up from many of the different races she had conquered. They were horribly outgunned.

  He looked at Woods. “They haven’t seen me yet. Retreat to the other shuttle, and stay there,” he said.

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’ll figure something out. Go!”

  Woods tossed his wrecked rifle out into the open to attract their attention and rushed for the cover of the second shuttle. Automatic gunfire drummed its eerie echo as they tracked the weapon he had thrown, and then they turned their fire on him. Shots spattered the ground behind him as they tried desperately to track his run. He didn’t return fire, there was no point. They would not bother to take cover, and he stood little chance of penetrating their armour from the front with his puny sidearm. He made a final leap for cover as a further hail of bullets hit the cockpit of the craft, and he tumbled behind the hull.

  Woods breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe for the moment, but it wouldn’t last long. He was praying Babacan lived up to his reputation, the stories people told about him that made him a legend. The Krys were far stronger and more powerful than any human, and he was one of the finest of the Krys people. Woods peered around the corner of the craft. Only to see the muzzle flashes of the two enemy weapons, and he ducked back behind cover. The glass of the cockpit had shattered into th
ousands of pieces that cascaded over him.

  Babacan paced quietly around the ship he had intended to use for his escape. He was kicking himself for not leaving when he had the chance, but he kept asking himself what would Taylor have done. He already knew the answer. Taylor would stand and fight, and more important, he wouldn’t leave a friend behind. Not ever. He didn’t know Sarik well, but well enough. Enough to know how important he was to the war effort, and Captain Woods also seemed like a good man.

  Gunfire echoed around the small docking bay, and he heard the heavy footsteps of enemy soldiers closing in on Woods for the kill. He searched around for a weapon, anything he could use, and found a large wrench located in a mounting bracket on the wall. He took it down and smiled as he hefted it. The tool must have weighed almost twenty kilos. Not ideal, but it would have to do.

  Woods worked his way around the shuttle to flank the two enemy warriors as they came closer, and he emerged in their rear. They were close to his position now. He pointed his pistol around the corner and fired several desperate shots. One actually impacted an enemy, a direct hit, but the shot just bounced off its thick armour. Another shot zipped past the enemy, narrowly missing Babacan’s face. Woods stopped firing and ducked back into cover, as the next salvo from the enemy hammered around his position.

  Babacan took the opportunity. He leapt out, rushing towards the enemy who were oblivious to his presence, his footsteps drowned out by their own gunfire. He held the wrench in his two hands and swung it against the first creature’s back legs. Sweeping them out from under it so it collapsed on its back. He didn’t waste any time, and swung the wrench back round, smashing it down onto the soldier’s helmet. The thick, fully enclosed helmet couldn’t withstand the massive blow, and it caved in. The Morohtan died instantly.

  Babacan was aware the other creature would be on him at any moment, and he was almost too late. As he turned, the barrel of the enemy’s weapon struck him so hard it threw him off his feet, and he lost his grip on the wrench. He hit the deck hard and slid two metres before coming to a halt. The enemy had its weapon trained on him now, and he could do nothing. Before the creature could open fire, several shots rang out. Woods had leapt from of cover and fired repeatedly into its back. It stumbled, and his rounds had some effect at close-range, hitting its weaker rear armour. Then it turned to face him just as his magazine ran dry.

  Babacan saw the opportunity and was on his feet in no time. He grabbed the weapon dropped by the dead enemy and hauled it up to his hip. It was heavy, and still connected by ammo and power feeds to the dead creature’s suit. He squeezed the trigger and kept it held down. A dozen shots hit the enemy solder in the back and ripped through its armour. It twitched and turned as each round dug in deeper until finally Babacan released the trigger. The room was silent, until the creature crashed to the deck to lay between them.

  “Woods?”

  The Captain emerged from the cover he’d jumped behind when the firing started. Babacan let the weapon drop. It would be no use to them, as it was useless without the enemy’s suit it was connected to. Woods looked shocked, although he was reloading his pistol as he stepped out.

  “Last one I have,” he said, slamming the magazine into the pistol.

  Babacan nodded. “If we are going to do this, we need the tools to do the job.”

  “Armour, weapons, we can get it all.”

  “Okay, lead the way, Captain.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “Nothing in war is easy. But what choice do we have?”

  Chapter 3

  Woods darted across an intersection as gunfire spat around them. The smell of electrical fires assaulted his nostrils. He held his pistol close to prevent an enemy grabbing it as they passed many intersections, even though it would offer them little defence if they met the enemy again. He gestured for Babacan to follow him.

  “We got lucky back there, didn’t we?”

  “It wasn’t luck that let us win. We did it, we won.”

  The situation had been a perfect setup, and they realized it was one they were unlikely to be able to repeat. They glimpsed movement ahead. An enemy warrior ran past in the distance with its gun blazing, and several more followed. They both sunk back into the cover of a support beam, hoping the enemy would not come their way. Footsteps came from another side of the junction, and they both froze. They were getting louder and coming right at them. They repositioned themselves ready to pounce on whoever or whatever it was. Woods’ heart pounded so hard in his chest it almost drowned out the approaching footsteps.

  Two figures rushed past, spotted them, and stopped. They raised their weapons just as Woods did the same. Both groups froze, and Woods breathed a sigh of relief. It was a man and a woman in Marine uniforms, just like Woods.

  “What’s going on here Cap?” asked the woman, “Do you know what’s happening?”

  They were both young and looked inexperienced, as though they hadn’t seen a fight before. There was blood over the man’s face and shoulder, but it didn’t look like it was his own. More gunfire echoed around the station, and screams rang out as soldiers ran from the unequal combat, and others fell to the enemy.

  “We’re getting cut to pieces here,” said the man.

  Woods nodded in agreement. He didn’t have anything to say that would calm their nerves.

  “What should we do?” asked the woman.

  “We have a duty here,” he replied, “We are gonna get Sarik out.”

  “Sarik? He’s probably dead by now. If the enemy came for him, they’ll have him.”

  “This fight wouldn’t be on-going if that were the case,” replied Babacan.

  “How would you know? Who are you?”

  Woods gestured to the Krys. “This is Babacan, part of Colonel Taylor’s unit. If anyone knows how to fight this enemy, it’s him.”

  It was enough to shut them up.

  “This is Private Riley and Corporal Flores.” Woods pointed at the man and woman respectively.

  Riley grimaced. “Yeah, nice to meet you and all, but how are we gonna make it out of this place?”

  “I just told you, we are going for Sarik. That is our job.”

  “To hell with our job. We have to get the hell out of here before we all die,” protested Flores.

  Babacan wanted to agree with her, but he wasn’t going to contradict Woods.

  “You’ve been here before, what do we do?” she asked him.

  His reply was brief and blunt. “Whatever the Captain orders, he is in charge here.”

  “Bullshit, you’ll get us all killed,” snapped Riley.

  Babacan grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, lifted him off his feet with one hand, and smashed him against the bulkhead. It was enough to knock the wind out of him, and he was clearly as surprised at the rough treatment as the rest of them. He fought to reach the weapon slung over his chest, but Babacan locked it in place with his other hand.

  “You will follow the Captain’s orders until he relieves you of your duty, or you die in battle, got it?”

  Riley was shaking in terror, astonished by the massive strength Babacan had displayed.

  Woods grinned. “You have never faced a Krys before, have you?”

  He didn’t reply, still too stunned. Babacan gave him a hard stare. “If you think this is strength, you haven’t seen anything yet. A Morohtan warrior will tear your limbs from your body.”

  “Enough, he gets it,” Woods insisted.

  Babacan didn’t look satisfied, but he put him down anyway. Riley gasped for air and looked to them for sympathy, but he was disappointed. A voice roared from a nearby corridor, and it sounded more like an order than a war cry. Woods pointed to a doorway, and they slid through it as quietly as they could. Babacan didn’t like having to hide, but he had no weapon or armour. He felt naked in the face of the enemy. A strange and unusual feeling for the Krys, as they were physically more powerful than most intelligent life forms in the universe.

  They hunkered
down behind tables and chairs, praying if it were enemy they would wander past. Riley was shaking with fear and looked to be at breaking point. Woods didn’t blame him, but he could give them away and get them all killed if he made a noise. None of them could reach him to silence him. All they could do was wait and hope. The heavy footsteps drew nearer, and at last a figure appeared. A huge armoured creature, and it stopped and peered in through the doorway. The lighting was low, and none of them moved or made a sound.

  Babacan recognized the creature instantly, and he could see Woods had come to the same conclusion. A Juggernaut, as Taylor’s men had come to call them. The most heavily armoured of the Morohtan warriors, and impervious to all but advanced heavy weapons that necessitated a powered exoskeleton to allow a human to carry them. Even then, they’d need to shoot at close-range and hit the rear armour. Otherwise, they’d just scratch the paintwork. Babacan was well aware if it came into the room and engaged them, none of them would survive.

  Eventually, it moved away, and Riley let out a sigh of relief, but then they heard more footsteps, and another enemy creature strode past the open doorway. This one was not like the others. It was taller and decorated with elaborately gilded and blackened armour. It was also empty-handed, as if arrogantly assuming nothing could harm it. It also moved on, and they waited for the sound of the footsteps to fade before getting up.

  “What in space was that?” Riley asked.

  “One of their officers,” said Flores in horror.

  “A high-ranking officer,” added Babacan.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” asked Flores.

  “I only wish I knew,” replied Woods.

  Babacan didn’t like it. Something about this attack was suspicious, yet there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was keep moving forward and try to survive.

  He looked at Woods. “You said they are here for Sarik?”

  “That is my best guess.”

  Babacan felt he was not telling him everything. The Krys were a simple and straightforward people, but not stupid. Gunfire rang out nearby, and this time from Alliance weapons. Riley rushed excitedly towards the door, but Babacan grabbed hold of him and hauled him back.