Introduction: The Dust of Defeat
Lieutenant Malikkas, sole survivor of the Blue Leopards Special Operations Unit, struggled to his feet, staring wide eyes across the barren wind swept Zaxon B terrain, his uniform torn and dirt laden, white hair now grimy and face smeared with dust.
Having slept uneasily in the open south eastern land for days, he had eaten little, some frozen berries and the roots of dishevelled plants providing little energy, his figure now drawn. Hearing the howls of tigers and wolves at night, he had struggled to gain much rest, nestling into hollows in the ground or low rock formations, a cold bitter wind sweeping across the grey snow bound land relentlessly.
Morgon patrols had initially scoured the unforgiving landscape, the tall black troopers staring from their small open topped tracked armoured cars as they progressed, his body thrust behind rocks and into the snow to avoid detection. The enemy patrols had slowly become less frequent, Malikkas trudging south and away from the main positions, distant gunfire on the horizon accompanying him as he strayed further and further into the inhospitable terrain.
Presuming the enemy was now fighting in Morasat or near the main city, he came to the conclusion that the Morgons believed the area he was in to be simply empty barren land, bereft of any life other than the local beasts and their prey. Occasionally he had seen lights in the dark sky at night, ships seeming to leave the planet, his thoughts of the Morgons taking numerous bloodied trophies to their mother ships, the prized skulls hacked from soldier’s bodies.
Malikkas had struggled with his survival, the guilt and incredulous thought he was one of the few ever taken prisoner, knowing it was because of his unit and the prestige the Morgons held for it…he would have been paraded as the spoils of victory, examined intensely and then viciously despatched into the afterlife as the enemy became bored with him.
During the hours of daylight, he had studied the few tracks across the dirt and landscape intensely, wishing for signs of a Trevakian patrol or indicators of local settlers. But there were none, simply the small paw marks of snow foxes and their prey, his mind twisting in fear when he glimpsed bigger footprints, the larger snow leopards and tigers hunting for food at night.
The bitter cold seeped through his bedraggled uniform as he got weaker, seeming to feed off his flesh and spirit, his weakening legs trudging on during the day and hiding at night. Deep fear and apprehension rose with the lack of sustenance and loneliness, the brave and decorated soldier now reduced to a shuffling gaunt figure being consumed by paranoia. Realising it was only a matter of time before a predator eventually began to track and hunt him down, the piercing howls at night seemed to gnaw deep into his soul, consuming any remaining resolve as he shivered uncontrollably in fear.
The last survivor of the Blue Leopard special operations unit would stumble along during the hours of pale daylight, half dreaming of the Herrakian fields and open planes of his home planet in attempts to sustain his spirits, longing for the camaraderie of his unit and soldiers, the highly trained fighters now laying slain and brutalised across the land to his northwest. His conscious thoughts behind teared eyes would then drift back to lush forests and mountains of the days of training, sleeping rough and attacking pre-set objectives with his lost comrades to turn the unit into one of the finest fighting formations.
They had fought on several planets, defending against hordes of Morgon grenadiers and camouflaged troops as the tanks of the Trevakians and their own specialist armour had blasted the invaders. Most battles were eventually driven to a grim and unforgiving standstill, the planets then drifting into a bleak attrition based stalemate as the specialist units were hastily redeployed to the next area of high concern, bolstering morale of the beleaguered and somewhat terrified defenders upon arrival.
His tired and energy sapped mind had eventually concluded the war was ultimately lost, that their efforts had been futile in just buying time as the battles gradually extended from one end of the empire to the other, the Morgons seeming to have an endless supply of soldiers to grind down the defenders. Now he trudged on in despondent silence, weakened and morosely subdued, his mind blank and bereft of thought. The past now seemed just distant memories that would soon extinguish like a dim light, ultimately gone with him as his miserable life ended in the unforgiving snowed brush land near the high peaked mountains of southern Zaxon B.
For three further days he had meandered further across the terrain, keeping the high mountains to his left and the southern lower rock formations within easy reach, aware the jagged stone and hollows may be his only form of concealment should the Morgon patrols suddenly reappear.
Eventually straining his bloodshot and sullen eyes, he had glimpsed a small settlement in the distance, the ramshackle huts surrounding a central warehouse and hall, a small church situated at the edge of the hamlet, the buildings surrounded on three sides with logs and barricades. His eyes strained further as a weakened mind considered that the occupants of the buildings could be Morgon before dismissing any fear…he no longer cared.
His frail body then stumbled onwards in excitement as he glimpsed a thin line of smoke rising into the dull sky...someone or something was cooking in the outpost or at least perhaps keeping warm. Disregarding any re-emerging concerns, he scrambled forward virtually on his hands and knees, the last reserves of energy pushing his gasping frame onwards towards the battered stockade and buildings.
The hamlet seemed to near, whines of frustration coming from his dried and chapped lips as he heard distant beastly howls, his exhausted senses reeling as he thrust his weakened body forward at a disorientated jog. His eyes misted as he forced his emaciated, energy starved frame to run, hearing the howls increase from the surrounding jagged cold mountains and barren terrain behind, his heart pounding in fright and adrenalin as he stumbled towards the stockade set against sheer dark foreboding rock faces.
Cracked and worn boots rose and fell across the rough terrain, the jarring on his joints agonisingly painful as he desperately pushed himself forward. Collapsing across some loose rocks, his undernourished muscles strained in excruciating agony as the Herrakian instinctive determination and will to survive suddenly surged through his weary chest. His pained body thrust upwards as he scrambled forward, hands scraped and torn, his chest heaving as he whined loudly through clenched teeth.
The blood curdling howls seemed even louder as he gasped, crashing into the scorched log walls of the enclosure, his bloodied hands dragging at the rough, jagged petrified and weathered wood to pull his body forwards. A terrified face darted from side to side, eyes scrutinising the terrain as he scrambled along the wall, desperate to escape any nearing predators, a flash of snapping jaws flashing through his mind.
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 atmospher
e, 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.’
Admiral Shadian’s arms rose in exasperation, ‘Another front for us to man…stalemate again, they do this continually and weaken us across the galaxies and now here. Very well…keep trying to gain more reports…what of the upper levels of the station?’
The officer glanced down, reading from her console once more, ‘Engineers have sealed all the lower breaches…some Morgon forces still holding out above deck eighty…Fahimian commandoes, earth Ghurkas and our own Trevakian marines are preparing to storm their positions…there are still some earth soldiers on the planet’s surface, all in security positions…or shallow graves…’
Admiral Shadian nodded grimly, ‘The rest? The few ships from 9th and 10th fleet I chose are on their way to this human ‘earth’…any more in the vicinity that can assist us? We could use them to attack enemy defensive positions…two are not enough with the Morgons still in orbit.’
The intelligence ensign stared across at her commander, ‘Apart from the two battle cruisers that remained to guard us, there is no news of further support from fleet…in fact, no messages at all.’ She glanced up reassuringly, ‘This may be attributable to the delay in our two computer codes merging Admiral…not due to lack of incoming comms. Intelligence believes there could be additional vessels sent to us and will attempt to open covert channels to the fleet once the merge is completed. I currently consider all spare vessels from the two fleets are now too far towards Planet Earth to recall…the empire must wish to destroy the enemy’s warships as per orders and perhaps we should support that sir, this is a great opportunity…now we know where they are.’
The Admiral of Alexion One grimaced, his arms lowering to his hips in frustration, ‘Then we must presume this is all we have then…I need urgent communication with both the Fahimians and the commander at Morasat…if we can move our orbit with the cover of the cruisers, we could bring direct fire onto the Morgon positions, wear them down and prevent others from escaping. We will need coordinated help clearing the enemy’s remaining ships from space.’
The female intelligence officer smiled fleetingly, her adrenalin rising, ‘Yes Admiral…I will arrange an immediate meeting…probably on the planet’s surface.’ She glanced down as Shadian smiled in approval, pinching his upper nose with weariness and slumping back in his chair, the station shuddering once more as the upper guns fired out into dark space.
Then he stiffened, the low red alarm lights suddenly pulsing across the damaged bridge, Alexion One’s internal voice activated warning system activating, the female voice stern, ‘Alert! Caution! Space distortion detected…vessel or vessels uncloaking in planet orbit! Alert!’
Admiral Shadian rose to his feet abruptly in shock, shouting across at his six ensigns, ‘Show me on screens! Surely they must be ours?’
The startled intelligence and operating officers’ hands moved across their screens frantically, the screens at the end of the bridge flickering, one shouting desperately as they stared down at the flickering lights, ‘Some sensors offline…limited pictures will be available…’
Shadian shook his head, his body shaking in anticipation as he stared at the static filled screens, biting his lower lip with stress as his voice rose, ‘Let me see…where or what are they?’
The female intelligence officer grimaced, her jaw dropping open as she stared down to the
display, ‘Two vessels Sir…uncloaking near the Morgon ships…’ She glanced up in regret,’ …we must presume enemy craft…they…they are….’ She stared downwards once more, the screen flickering and damaged sensors attempting to decipher the readings, her voice rising with excitement and dread, ‘Unknown ships Admiral…computers have no recognition…wait!’
Admiral Shadian shook his head in exasperation, shouting across the bridge, ‘Wait? I need information…what have we got?’
The operators jumped at the ferocity of the order, one rising to his feet near the intelligence officer, ‘Admiral…unknown ship is hailing us, images prevented…voice only. We have no translation…’
The female intelligence ensign interrupted in amazement, ‘Translation and identification coming from merging Fahimian files…dissecting information now and awaiting transformation…in 3-2-1…on our own speakers…’
The space stations female voice broke through once more, ‘Translation from incoming signal received and deciphered…message as follows…’ There was slight pause as the messages were re-checked by Alexion One’s systems for accuracy, then a burst of static, a menacing male voice surging through the speakers, ‘Message Alpha. This is Vice Commander Zett of the Terraxile Hive…we have been sent here on the instructions of our Emperor. We come in peace from the far side of the Kliskoe System…beyond the destroyed Fahimian Republic. We understand the Fahimian vermin are under your protection and we demand you relinquish them for destruction…they are the last of their people and we are honoured to be assigned to their liquidation…’ There was a slight pause, then the computer generated voice continued, ‘…our signal will remain open for you to respond, you have limited time.’
Admiral Shadian’s eyes widened in horror, his teeth grinding as he grunted in disgust, ‘Get me the nearest Fahimian dignitary…I want to know what is happening…scan their files for detail, who are these ‘Terraxiles’?’
Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught Page 3