The Last Foxhole (The Forgotten War Saga Book 1)

by Justin Alexander

  Hawkling came up on his knees and spat out another mouthful of coagulating sanguine fluid. “Now you’ve done it convict,” He hissed, his tone a mixture of fury and rage. “I’ll gladly just wait and let them kill you and your new friends.

  Kiera hunkered down next to him, and produced a small, delicately engraved, silk handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and gave it to the commissioner, she tried to keep the revulsion from her voice, “Here.”

  “Thank you,” He spluttered as he began to mop up the gore from his face.

  “Now,” her voice shifted and became that of her father. “You will help us escape this place, or I will see to it personally that you’re brought up on charges, it won’t matter that your innocent, as there will be no trial. You know better than anyone, how the legal system works within the Empire, if my family wished you to be punished, you will be and I’m sure they can find you a cell here within this hell hole. The screams we heard on the way down, that would be you, tortured and degraded for the rest of your worthless existence.” As she spoke her grin never wavered.

  Hawkling studied her closely, his face already inflamed, his pursed smile was her answer.

  “Very good,” she responded laconically and helped him up.

  “Well, don’t we all make a nice little group,” Andre added with a sneer.

  Claudius leaned back against the concrete wall, his hand held tightly on his side. He could feel the warm liquid welling within his armour, and once again the taste of iron lingers in his mouth.

  He watched the other three move away up the corridor. He waited until they are away and then he pulled his hand away and glanced down. He can see where the blade had managed to pierce the gap in the plates of his chainmail. He yanked out a small temporary bandage and stretched his breastplate out enough so that he could force the dressing inside. He used his hand to manually guide it, until he feels the sharp, pang and his body flinches. Then he gritted his teeth and pushed it down, activating the chemical and biometric layer; which automatically began to pump, antibiotics, coagulants and stem cells into the gaping wound.

  His head leans back and seeks out the cold concrete for solace. His eyes close and once again he sees Hannah, his baroness, his one and only love. He feels her hands upon his skin, her lips upon his, he feels the passion and fire he holds for her, burning within him, like a wildfire over tinder. Then he sees Kiera, his daughter and more like her mother, than she will ever know. Both right now are in more danger than they know.

  His eyes shot open and he forced himself from the cool comfort of the hard stone. Agony throbs at his side, yet he has felt worse before, much worse. He spits out a mouthful of congealing blood and begins to move off into the gloom.

  His mind centred, he has to get Kiera away from this hellhole and get her to a safe place and then he must return for Hannah. Because now he was sure of one thing, the Baron, the monster he had served for so many years, was involved in this in some way and if that was the case, her life was at risk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  FRESAL ONE

  Sam ran faster than he thought possible, driven by a primal desire to reach not only the woman that he loved, but also the unborn child that she carried. At his side the tiger kept pace, with ease, he glanced over and found that eerie robotic eye locked on him; the soft magenta hue almost felt comforting now. As if this half animal, half machine, was aware of his pain and suffering and was telling him that things were going to be ok.

  He found his way to the battlefield, around him a scene a sheer chaos was under way, as teams of medics and marine struggled to save the injured and comfort the dying. He rushed forward seeking out Lauren and Naomi.

  “Stalker!” A cry went up.

  He swung to his left and saw Lauren waving furiously at him, “Firestorm,” he shouted as he ran towards her.

  She was hunkered down in the filth, with a young trooper that he had never seen and Naomi, lay before them, her skin, pallid and her respiration slow and arduous.

  “She hurts bad, Captain but she’s alive.” The young soldier said.

  He barely heard him though, he collapsed to his knees beside the women he loved. His gloved hand drifted over her face and down to her abdomen, instinctively seeking out his unborn child. The tiger was next to him, it growled softly and then ran its rough tongue over Naomi’s cheek tenderly.

  “Is that a fucking tiger?” The young man asked hesitantly.

  “Stalker!” Lauren said, “You have to get out of here.”

  “Thank you,” he managed to cough, as tears welled up within his eyes, he couldn’t say anything more, he gingerly placed his hands beneath, Naomi’s trembling body and hoisted her waif like frame up. As he moved her, she seemed to wince, yet her eyes remained barred tightly.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “Your both going to make it.”

  Without another word he set off through the smoke, he knew exactly where he was going, the secret medical station, reserved for the rich and powerful. Yet today, he would make sure they saved his newly formed family, or he would kill them all. He no longer cared about rules or even basic humanity, such ideals were lost. The universe for him, had shrunk to Naomi, she would live, even if he had to kill or die to make that happen.

  Joe watched in almost awed stillness as the Captain raced away, the creature at his side.

  “That was a tiger right, I’m not just going nuts here?” he managed to splutter.

  Lauren seemed lost for a moment, then when she did speak her voice was tinged with sentiment. “Yeah I think so, it was beautiful wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah it really was,” he replied softly, “do you think she’ll make it, Naomi I mean?”

  “She’ll make it, she’s strong, and Stalker will make sure of it, he always does.” Her gaze drifted back across the gory foreground.

  “I’ve never met him before, Stalker I mean, just heard the stories.”

  Lauren pivoted towards him, her stunning dark rich chocolate eyes, fixed on his and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Did I ever say thank you for saving my life?”

  Joe beamed, “yeah I think you did, although I will admit my mind was kind of on other things right then.”

  Lauren chuckled, “yeah think we both did,” she hesitated. “Well thank you Joe, you saved my life.”

  He could feel his face redden and he wrestled furiously to control his own nerves, if he could survive combat he could handle talking to a beautiful women. “Your very welcome, Lauren and thank you for saving, literally all of our lives.”

  Her eyes turned back to the slaughter, “not all of us, not by a long way.” She sighed.

  “You did everything you could and more than most. The fact that any of us including me are still alive is thanks to you. A lot of people are still breathing right now, because of you and that includes me.” As he spoke he stood up slowly and stretched his hand out towards Lauren, “Come on let’s get out of here, I don’t know about you but I could use like a drink or maybe ten.”

  Lauren took his hand and hoisted herself up, “so are you like asking me out on a date or something?” she chided.

  “Well I did save your life,” he beamed.

  “That’s true, well the first round is on me then.” She countered with a snigger.

  “That’s a deal.” Joe replied as he lead Lauren away through the mist, leaving behind the carnage if just for a brief while, until this endless game of war would continue.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  In high orbit above the planet, on-board the colossal flagship “The Ascension”, Delta Harding, correspondent for the Empire network, glanced around lethargically, as the dour and unimpressive Captain, continued with his bland tour.

  She peered back at the gaggle of celebrities and reality stars that followed behind her. She felt both jealousy and rage congeal within her as she looked upon some of the younger, attractive, and more pert starlets. Most wore little, basically high heels and underwear, lots of leather and latex, which made
her envision hookers or porn stars which most of them were. Around them sailors and soldiers leered, desperate to attract their attention. Most were from, cheap horror films, or the vast real life networks, on shows like real Core Worlds, or housewives of world x, or true-life pornstars. Each one more desperate for fame and adoration than the last. Celebrity had become the buzz word throughout the Realm and it seemed to her that everyone wanted their own life broadcast to trillions.

  She had been so like them once, on her knees in every interview to try and get a job in front of the camera. Memories flared and once again she is back there upon the notorious casting couch, her skin crawls and she has to stifle the desire to vomit.

  She shifted her attention back to the tour and tried to convince herself that she still appeared good, even for forty-nine. She persuaded herself that with the money that she and the studio spent, she should do, yet there was only so much you could hide, only so many facelifts you could have before your skin was pulled so taut, that you began to look like a freak automaton.

  Behind her she could hear the popping of champagne corks, and squeals of excitement. As the rabble of soldiers and celebrity whores continued their dance.

  She shifted to her producer, a short, wiry and furtive man, whose name she never cared to remember, he simply wasn’t important enough. “Just who’s fucking idea, was it to bring the bimbo patrol?” she snapped, her every word laced in acid.

  He shot her a smirk and she could see his yellow, uneven teeth. “You know why, Delta, the network needs to get the ratings up and nothing gets the rating up, like starlets and reality stars.” He edged closer to her and his foul body odour and warm breath, made her stomach spin. “I think we can definitely get a few to get off with each other a bit of girl on girl action, is always good for ratings.”

  She didn’t lower herself to respond and instead set off at a quicker pace, to catch up with the Captain, who had continued his tour, like some robotic guide.

  “This is the Combat. Information. Centre or the C.I.C, it is where we control every action abroad this ship.”

  She drew close to him and lay her sharpened fingernails upon his arm. “Dear Captain, as much as this tour has been so interesting. The whole point of this little visit, was to get some good shots of our victorious troops.”

  A cold deadpan look and ice-cold blue eyes fixed upon her. “Madame, this is a warship, on active duty, I don’t know who gave you permission to be here, but it certainly wasn’t me.” He turned back around and continued to move into the vast doomed C.I.C. Hundreds of blurs in uniforms, ran from computer terminals, to immense holo-screens, shouting numbers and relaying orders. “As for when you will be able to film down on the surface that will depend, the battle is still going on now and it will be up the purity officers, who will of course be accompanying you.”

  She was struck for a moment, by the sheer organized chaos that seemed to be going on all around her, she thought that a busy newsroom, was manic, yet this place was another world entirely, for an instance she thought of a beehive.

  As she was about to speak, alarm klaxons began to sound and a sharp, shrill siren started to whirl.

  “Battle stations!” the Captain yelled as he raced quickly to the middle of the chamber, where a raised dais sat.

  Delta, always the journalist, activated the small drone camera and unleashed it. She allowed her neural link to synch up, and then guided it over the now mass of military personnel, to where the Captain had run to. She could see the picture relayed back onto a screen she had built into her designer sunglasses. As she observed the scene play out, behind her she heard the murmuring of the reality stars. Most had never even stepped foot out of the protective bubble, their publicist and networks built. So cocooned and far removed from reality, that she thought to them this must seem like the premier of some kind of grand movie.

  She focused her attention on the screen and the image. She could see the Captain, desperately pointing at the vast holo-screen in front of him, where now, vast swaths of red dots were beginning to flash. She activated her neural implant and keyed the drone to broadcast sounds. Then she edged over to an armoured porthole, she deactivated it just as the sound signal was transmitted to her auditory chip.

  As the shield slid open, she could hear the Captains voice, “This can’t be right, have the androids check this data, how could that many ships be jumping in?”

  Another voice now, younger and strained, “Sir we aren’t getting any replies and their signals aren’t Empire codes.”

  The Captain again, “Launch the alert fighters and the get the C.A.P (Combat. Air. Patrol) over there now, how many signals are you reading?”

  A woman’s voice this time, “So far nearing one hundred Sir!”

  “That can’t be possible, the Separatist’s don’t have a fleet that big anywhere near here, it must be a false reading?” It was the Captain again as he prowled the dais, like a caged animal.

  “Sir were getting confirmation readings, we have a signal from the Jupiter.”

  Delta watched as the holo-screen flashed and an attractive, middle aged woman appeared, “Ascension, we have a positive, jump signal here, we are reading over one hundred enemy vessels, we are engaged by ten heavy destroyers,” the screen flared and sparks and flames enveloped the woman. All that was left was the haunting scream.

  Delta threw off the glasses and felt her gorge rising and her throat burn. She glanced out through the reinforced glass and into the black cauldron of space. Her eyes shifted as she thought she was seeing, stars, yet the pinpricks of light continued and then she saw one close to the ship itself.

  “Goddamnit, launch all fighters now, prepare all weapons systems and someone get me some firing solutions.” The captain’s voice resonated within her ear canal.

  Yet she wasn’t really listening, she was captivated, as only a few hundred metres away, the jump point opened fully and a nightmarish warship emerged. Before she could say anything, it began to fire.

  “MISSILE LAUNCH DETECTED, MISSILES ARE WITHIN THE FRACK BARRIER, MISSILE IMPACT IMMINENT.” A screeching, automated message screamed.

  She peered back towards the gaggle of stars as their agents and entourages ran from them.

  She didn’t hear the explosion at first, she just felt the entire vessel lurch suddenly and then she was on the floor. She saw the whores and starlets caught within a brutal explosion and their bodies were literally torn asunder by falling beams and metal plating.

  She sneered as she watched all of them die screaming and then she caught sight of the wall of irradiating flame as it arched effortlessly in the zero gravity.

  Her last thought was “that this would have made great television” and then her body was devoured by the fires.

  The master stood within his chamber and felt his fleet arriving all around him, he called out with his mind for his General.

  After only a few moments the door slid open and his champion entered. To any normal man he would have seemed like a giant, he stood at least two feet taller than most others, his vast frame was covered by a set of iridescent golden armour that although dented and scratched still seemed to glisten as if it was new.

  Unlike most of the others, which had like him given into the primeval powers, the man was still very much human, his features were strong and brutal, like they had been carved from rock and his blonde hair hung low over his shoulders, his name was Baron Helmet Greene.

  “You called my master,” The general said sharply.

  “Prepare all the troops, for a ground assault, I want this planet under our control quickly.”

  Helmet’s face splits into a wide almost insane smile, “Yes my master, the planet will be yours, it will be a good fight.”

  “It should be nothing like a fight general, I have brought our entire force to bare here, I want this battle over with quickly, the children are here and they will be mine. I have waited for too long for this day.”

  “Well I will not wait here master, I will make s
ure that our forces are rallied.” As he turned to leave the ebony cloak flowed out behind him.

  “Make sure that you do General, I would hate to see you endure, that fate that befell your father,” The master hissed, vitriol laced within every syllable.

  Helmet’s gloved hand moved to the hilt of his sword and hovered there as he spoke. “Well I would hate for that fate to befall me as well, my master.” Then he left the room.

  The master would have smiled, it he still could, instead he thought ahead to the slaughter that was to take place and to the children; who would allow him to have his final revenge upon this miserable universe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Sam kicked the door of the unmarked tent open, Naomi’s trembling body held within his arms. He stepped into the cooled interior and found four, gleaming operating rooms. This facility was designed to be used by any puritan priest or colonial big wigs that may have been left behind, or simply anyone wealthy enough to pay handsomely for the treatment they could provide. It had the kind of equipment and doctors that you would find back on a Core World and they were going to save his family, or he would kill them all, his war was this simple now.

  He strode forth and saw a gaggle of surgeons and nurses around a small music system, laughing and joking. At his side the Tiger snarled angrily.

  “What the fuck?” One of the doctors uttered in shock as he spun around.

  Sam placed Naomi down gently on the nearest bed, and turned to the group, he walked past the animal and lay a reassuring hand on its head. The animal quietened slightly its fangs still bared.

  He drew out one of his pistols, “This woman is injured, she’s also pregnant and you’re going to save her life.”

  An older man pushed through the crowd, he had the look of some kind of ancient professor, with his pink skin and bushy white eyebrows. As he speaks his condescending tone was clear, “I don’t know, who you think you are, soldier, but this is not for troopers, go to the medical tent, or I will get a puritan officer in here and have you shot.”