ã€ŠOuter Rim - Anthologyã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Last Stand

    ¡°Where the fuck did they come from?¡± shrieked Staff Sergeant Wyatt DeBoer as he bailed out of his stricken infantry fighting vehicle, flames licking at his heels and the screams of the driver searing his soul.

    Trapped in the shattered remains there was nothing he could do but let her cook.

    All around him pulsers, solid shot and lasers cut through the air, blasting the men and women under his command.

    An IFV detonated, shrapnel cutting through the soldiers of first platoon, 5th company of the Veld Lancers. The blast knocked him sideways.

    ¡°Dammit! We need air support!¡± DeBoer yelled into his comm-set. He repeated his call.

    Nothing.

    Not even static

    He shook the set before realising it had been shattered by a metal splinter. Roaring in frustration he threw the shattered comm-set in the general direction of the enemy.

    Howls, hoots, yips and roars filled the air as their enemy charged into close combat. The Veld Lancers were pinned as enemy support weapons continued to blast away.

    ¡°Where the hell is our mecha support? Fucking cowards!¡± DeBoer raged as he scanned the tacmap for their unit symbols. His people needed them. They were dying.

    The Veld Lancers were a mixture of mechanised infantry and mechas. A fast moving, hard-hitting blend of man and technology capable of taking on even a company of super heavies.

    ¡°Fix bayonets!¡± ordered the platoon commander.

    An inexperienced 1st Lieutenant he was still wet behind the ears.

    DeBoer sneered at the fear in his voice as his command was cut down around him.

    Fucking dick, he thought as he took a shot at an enemy trooper, blowing its guts out. Going to get us all killed.

    An elechimera stepped out of the swirling clouds of dust and smoke bare metres away from DeBoer. Spreading its legs it braced its belt-fed fully automatic shotgun on its hips.

    Trumpeting a war cry it used its armoured proboscis to wave a mono sword cutting down a screaming trooper with ease.

    Without thought DeBoer threw himself down into the dust. He screamed with fear as the elechimera opened fire.

    The air was filled the air with thousands of small-calibrate hyper-velocity flechettes.

    His people didn¡¯t stand a chance at such a close range, their armour shredding just as easily as their flesh.

    The last thing he heard as the elechimera¡¯s shadow fell over him was his lieutenant screaming for help into the comm-net.

    ¡°Mayday ... incomin ... eject ...¡±

    ¡°Can¡±t hold them! Too many! Where¡¯s our supp ...¡±

    ¡°55th mechas engaged, need arti ... they¡±re flanking.¡±

    ¡°Help me, help me, help me, they¡¯re coming, they¡¯re ...¡±

    ¡°Veld Lancers! We¡¯ve been ambushed! Chimeras flooding us we need he¡­¡±

    Uluthando Sigwaxa, 5th Bhuyeni Pulse Rifles, sighed as she flicked the bunker¡¯s comm station off. She looked around the ops room, her mouth dry and palms sweating. Her people were just as frightened as she was, their eyes wide and Adam¡¯s apples bobbing.

    ¡°Forget what you¡¯ve heard,¡± she said, wishing her mouth didn¡¯t feel as though it was packed with cotton wool.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a good position here. There¡¯s plenty of ammunition, food and water. We¡¯ve been dug in for weeks. Those units were ...¡± she mentally cursed at her poor choice of word, ¡°are engaged on the plain. In the open. We¡¯ve got artillery dialled in, sentry guns, iMines, and the enemy¡¯s at least ...¡±

    She didn¡¯t have a chance to finish as alarms started blaring and her platoon¡¯s comm-net was flood with chatter.

    ¡°Contact front!¡±

    ¡°How the fuck did they get so close!¡±

    ¡°Ammo! Need ammo!¡±

    Snapping her visor down she waited for the hiss of her helmet sealing automatically before turning to charge out of the ops room.

    Her HUD engaged and filled with contact reports. It might as well have been a solid block of red.

    Explosions rocked the ground, so powerful that she even felt the shockwave through her armour. Casualty reports started coming in. Serial number after serial number turned red as her people died.

    She winced as her comms-net flooded with panicked calls for help. A quick flick of her chin dropped the volume. At least now she could concentrate.

    ¡°Override 255! Squad leaders only,¡± she commanded. Immediately her command-suit cleared the comm-net and silenced the panicked cries. She slammed her hand onto the bunker¡¯s exit release and charged into the trench system beyond.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She thanked Xerxes for the catheter in her suit. A commander with piss-stained trousers was guaranteed to kill morale.

    The trench was filled with the enemy. Hideous chimera breeds, crosses between man and Hyena.

    She shot the nearest in the leg as she brought her pulse rifle up, atomising chunks of fur and flesh as she raked it with automatic fire

    Sigwaxa charged as she fired. Her suit¡¯s auto-defences snapped her arms up as a power-iklwa was thrust at her face, her enemy slathering with ecstasy as its bio-engineered body was flooded with combat-stims.

    A low kick to the shin brought its head forward and she slammed her helmet into its snout. It stumbled away in pain, clearing her rifle for a burst that blew entrails in all directions.

    Despite her kills, the enemy pressed forward, vibro-claws and iklwa thrusting towards her. A flick of a switch with her tongue, and her shoulder-mounted acid thrower kicked into life, coating the enemies before her in a viscous substance.

    Its effect was immediate, and horrific.

    Enemy soldiers howled and yipped as they tried to brush the corrosive substance off. Their skin sloughed off as they did so. Smoke rose from their flesh as the acid ate through it, fat melting in great gobbets.

    Even the air they breathed was now toxic, and they coughed chunks of blackened lung out with each gurgling scream.

    The air was filled with the stench of excrement as their bladders and bowels voided. Bodies fell to the floor, thrashing in agony.

    Recoiling from the sight before her, she stepped back into the bunker, thankful for her helmet¡¯s respirator as thick clouds of smoke rose from the corpses.

    +++++ INCOMING ORDER - HOLD AT ALL COSTS - STAND FIRM +++++

    It was an all-comms broadcast, every soldier in her platoon would have received it. And she knew just how fucking happy they would be to hear it.

    ¡°Sergeant Jonker, sit rep,¡± she gasped. Her mind raced as it tried to catch up with what she¡¯d just gone through. Her senior NCO was out in the trenches. No one better to have a full grasp of the situation.

    ¡°Enemy regiment to the front. More to the flanks. An element broke through, looks like you dealt with that,¡± he said, her helmet automatically translating his NeoAfrikaans into her native isiZulu.

    ¡°We¡¯re holding the ones attacking us.¡±

    ¡°Coming to you,¡± she replied, chinning her helmet so that it mapped the quickest route to him.

    As she sprinted along the narrow confines of the trench, she forced herself to ignore the still-smoking bodies of her victims. Her helmet¡¯s audio pickup helped her to gauge the areas of heaviest engagement.

    It made no sense for her to get stuck into a firefight that served no tactical purpose. Didn¡¯t stop her from feeling like a coward.

    Of course, Jonker¡¯s in the bloody thick of it, she thought wryly as she charged past a section of her troops, all of them pouring fire at the enemy beyond the bio-wire.

    Formed by nanites in less than thirty minutes to Dominion Standard Operating Procedures, the trenches were perfectly cut through the earth. Ribbed floor to aid footing, perfectly smooth walls and each section the perfect depth and length.

    A cut left, a sprint down a communications trench, a cut right and a grunt as she bounced off a wall, and then she was into the main firing line.

    Jonker was a few metres away, his huge form striding up and down the section of the trench. His trademark power axe hummed as he used it to wave out encouragement.

    ¡°Kill every fucker and the wors and bloutrein are on me!¡± he roared.

    She left him to it, he¡¯d have seen her arrive on his on HUD and it looked as though he had everything in hand.

    Hopping up onto a fire step, she poked her rifle over the lip of the trench and gasped as the sight fed data into her HUD.

    It was as though the grass plain beyond their position was alive. Waves of chimera-breed soldiers advanced through the chest-high grass.

    Cheetah light infantry, acting as skirmishers, dashed from cover-to-cover. Heavy infantry, mostly Rhinos, lumbered behind them.

    ¡°Bollocks.¡±

    Roughly one click in front of her position was a series of dried river beds. The soft earth of the plains had been eaten away by the rivers which would race through during the rainy season and made a perfect staging point for the enemy soldiers.

    Sigwaxa¡¯s fingers danced on her palm as she called up a tactical map. Her stomach flipped as she looked at their position.

    Enemy units marked by red symbols were advancing on a wide front. At least three waves of infantry and armoured vehicles.

    Her position was a set of insta-bunkers and trenches on a slight rise. As far as she could tell their position was the only still held by Dominion-loyal soldiers.

    ¡°Command, this is Sigwaxa, bunker 2-3 Alpha. Requesting fire support on positions 2-3 Charlie, Delta, and Gamma. Over.¡±

    Energy pulses and solid shot slammed into the edge of the trench making her flinch even though there was no chance they could hit her.

    The amount of firepower pouring in was apocalyptic. Dust filled the air, reducing visibility within the trench to just a few metres even with her helmet¡¯s advanced vision technology.

    Casualties popped up on her HUD as a huge shockwave blasted through the trench, quickly followed by an enormous plume of dust.

    ¡°Medics to section four,¡± she ordered. Her heart pounded as she stared at the chunk of shell casing the size of her head which jutted out of the trench wall millimetres away from her face.

    Motherfucker!

    ¡°Bunker 2-3 Alpha, this is Command. Artillery on its way,¡± Command finally replied, the auto-translator removing any hint of emotion from the voice. Although maybe, considering they were sat miles away in a soft chair, they really weren¡¯t that excited about the battle raging around her.

    Popping her rifle back over the lip, she watched as the first salvo slammed into her target.

    Even at this range she could clearly see bodies cartwheeling through the air as the first of the shells detonated.

    She bounced up and down whooping as airbursts showered the riverbed with shrapnel. Acid bomblets spun through the air as they spat out their deadly payload, and deadly nanites rained down.

    ¡°That was fucking lekker, ma¡¯am,¡± said Jonker as he took position next to her. ¡°Although we can¡¯t see for shit now, too much dust, and the bloody plain¡¯s on fire.¡±

    He was right, the high explosive had thrown hundreds of tons of dust into the still air of the plain, and the long brown grass was burning; thick clouds of smoke billowing up.

    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s not good,¡± she said as she saw just how far the flames had spread. ¡°They¡¯re coming our way.¡±

    ¡°Dammit,¡± he cursed. ¡°It¡¯s going to fuck our infra-red.¡±

    Elephants trumpeted, hyenas cackled, and lions roared, each of the chimera giving voice to their own war cry.

    ¡°And those bastards bloody well know it,¡± she snapped, switching through her HUD¡¯s visual spectrums as quickly as she could, trying to find one that could pierce the both bright heat of the fire and thick fog of the smoke and dust. ¡°Bollocks, we¡¯re blind.¡±

    She chinned her comm. ¡°Platoon 3-4, open fire. Blind shoot. Don¡¯t let the bastards get close.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in the wire!¡±

    The shout went up along the line as the enemy troops entered the bio-wire.

    Screams filled the air as the living wire sought out vulnerable points in their armour and then burrowed into their bodies. And yet they still came on.

    ¡°Up! Up and at them!¡± she ordered as the first survivor staggered into view, blindly spraying the contents of its battle-rifle in the approximate direction of their position.

    Slinging her rifle, she drew her iklwa and activated her force isihlangu, a five-foot long shield of crackling energy.

    Her lips peeled back, baring her teeth as she led the charge. User her helmet¡¯s speakers to amplify the effect she screamed out her war cry.

    Blasting out at over 200 decibels it stunned the enemy.

    Hope you¡¯re fucking deaf, she thought as the enemy milled in confusion. For a previous few seconds it seemed as though they couldn¡¯t quite believe the humans would charge them.

    She didn¡¯t give them time to gather their wits. In only a few strides she was in their midst. She slashed the point of her iklwa across the throat of a leochimera, filling the air with blood and the hairs of its mane.

    Spinning, she caught a blast of flechettes on her shield and thrust her spear over the cover it provided. The tip drove deep into the throat of the hyena who had just fired.

    It gobbled. Blood spilled out of its mouth. Sigwaxa drove a hard kick into its chest, sending the dying hyena spinning away.

    Screams of rage and pain filled the air as the rest of her command surged into the enemy. Bodies and limbs fell to the ground as they hacked and slashed with their own force weapons.

    ¡°Push them back into the wire!¡± she panted.

    Icons representing the soldiers under her command started to turn red as their stunned enemy started to rally.

    Another leo stepped in front of her, arms spread wide as electricity crackled between the blades of its combat claws.

    In another time she would have marvelled at such a fine specimen of engineering and even trembled at the unit badge of six assegai crossed over a white shield.

    But she was too drained to feel anything but thirst.

    ¡°Here, kitty, kitty,¡± she goaded, using her helmet¡¯s speaker to let every being around hear the challenge.

    It charged, roaring so loud that her helmet¡¯s sound-dampening automatically kicked in.

    A brawler, it came at her with both claws slashing in from the sides.

    Sigwaxa¡¯s training kicked in and she moved closer. Stepping back would have opened her to another attack and pushed her away from her objective.

    Instead, she was now inside its arms where the force of its blows would be drastically reduced.

    Her energy shield crashed edge-on into a bicep the size of her thigh, striking deeply into the pressure point beneath the flesh, deadening it immediately.

    On the other side she reversed the grip on her spear as she raised her armoured arm to shield her head as best as possible, spear tip pointing towards the shoulder joint of the leo.

    As soon as the leo¡¯s arm struck, stars exploded across her vision. Stepping forward she thrust her spear as hard as she could.

    What had been a roar of challenge turned into a yowl of pain as the leo¡¯s own momentum drove the spear deep into its body.

    Still gasping from the blow, Sigwaxa wanted nothing more than to live through the next few seconds.

    She released her grip on the spear, threw an arm under the leo¡¯s armpit, pivoted and dropped to the ground, launching the leo over her head.

    It landed muzzle first, unable to use either arm to soften the fall. In a flash she drew her pistol, jammed it against the back of the leo¡¯s head and blew its face clean off.

    ¡°Fuck, didn¡¯t want to leave any for us?¡± panted Jonker as he reached down and offered her a hand up.

    She tried laughing, but her throat was too dry, and she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d be able to stop if she started.

    ¡°Sit rep?¡±

    ¡°Seventy-five per cent casualties boss lady,¡± he said.

    Shaking her head to rid it of the effects of the leo¡¯s last attack she stared slack-jawed at the devastation surrounding them.

    The bio-wire writhed mere centimetres from her. Bodies of the enemy soldiers twitched like scarecrows as the wire coiled through their bodies, drinking their blood.

    Sigwaxa shuddered, thankful that her suit¡¯s friend of foe signal protected her from a similar fate.

    Turning, she walked to the edge of the trench and looked down. Corpses lined the trench, some lying two or three deep, others draped over the walls of the trench.

    Bodies twitched, some groaning, others snoring ¨C a sure sign of massive head trauma. A few screamed for their mothers. Most were still.

    ¡°Get the wounded into the bunker as priority. Kill all the wounded chimeras and set a line of booby traps from fifty metres away up the trench,¡± she ordered. ¡°Make them pay for every step they take. Traps outside of the trench too, as they¡¯ll be jumping out as soon as they realise what we¡¯ve done.¡±

    Jonker saluted. The motion exposed a great tear in his equipment which in turn revealed a nasty cut.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Get that fixed too. Don¡¯t want you getting an infection, Mr. Jonker would never forgive me if you didn¡¯t get home!¡±

    He laughed, whether it was because he found it funny, or found her attempt at humour amusing, she didn¡¯t know.

    Didn¡¯t care if it brought him a small amount of happiness.

    ¡°Mr. Jonker¡¯s so pissed off at me for re-enlisting that he¡¯d thank you for getting me invalided out.¡±

    ¡°Carry on, sergeant,¡± she smiled, turning before he could see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

    *

    The bunker was in surprisingly good condition bar a few cracks in the ceiling from enemy shelling. Consoles sparked where the shielding in one room had failed under an EMP strike.

    More importantly, it was cool, a good twenty degrees less than outside.

    Sigwaxa sighed as she looked at the former inhabitants. None of the garrison had survived, torn apart by close-quarter weapons.

    A couple of chimera shock-troopers lay amongst their victims, chunks of flesh hanging from their jaws and hand-long claws.

    Nudging one with her foot, she sighed as she saw the Nagwolwe - Night Wolves - unit patch on its battle armour.

    ¡°Is that a Nagwolwe?¡± gasped a private, De Boer, according her to her HUD. ¡°Fok my, they¡¯re the bloody originals. Most highly decorated unit in NeoAfrikaans history. Have they all turned? Every chimera?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know. And we won¡¯t know if you don¡¯t get to your assigned post. Gaan weg,¡± snapped Sigwaxa.

    There was a shuffling of feet behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, turning fully as soon as she saw who it was.

    ¡°We¡¯ve set traps as ordered ma¡¯am,¡± reported Jonker.

    She reached out and lifted his arm, grunting softly in satisfaction as she saw the white bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. ¡°Placement?¡±

    ¡°Both sides. Found a couple of dead engineers and their equipment which made our traps far more interesting.¡±

    They shared a grin at that.

    ¡°Nice to have a bit of luck. Speaking of which, the bunker is fully operational.¡±

    ¡°Lekker!¡± smiled Jonker. ¡°Next you¡¯ll be saying you¡¯ve got a braii going.¡±

    ¡°Better. Acid and flame throwers are fully stocked. Hyper-velocity miniguns, 20mm grenade machine guns, bio-wire mines, and enough supplies to last us a month.¡±

    Jonker¡¯s mouth turned down at that. ¡°Don¡¯t think ...¡±

    Alarms blared, guns opened up, and another attack began.

    *

    Sigwaxa moved her gloved hand, the neuro-interface causing her multi-barrelled twin-mounted machine guns to track quickly onto a squad of chimera trying to dismount from a burning AFG.

    She pointed her finger and curled it as if pulling a trigger, snarling as a stream of hard rounds blasted the enemy infantry apart.

    Their bodies exploded under the kinetic force of more than fifty bullets per second hitting them. Scraps of flesh were all that remained.

    An elechimera stood, planting a heavy shield in front of it, it brought its shoulder-mounted missile launcher to bear.

    ¡°Fuck you, Dumbo,¡± she spat, laying her reticle directly onto the chimera¡¯s weapon, sending a quick burst into it.

    Sparks flew and the missile mis-fired. With a gout of flame it flew less than a metre before nosing into the soft earth, and the chimera dove back into cover.

    Its engine sputtered and died.

    ¡°Damn, that was disappointing,¡± Sigwaxa sighed, tracking for more targets. All she could see were enemy dead.

    ¡°Any luck on contacting friendly units?¡± she asked Jonker over a private channel.

    ¡°None, ma¡¯am. They¡¯ve pulled back to Command Line Delta. Fifty kilometres back. We¡¯re the only humans left here.¡±

    Sigwaxa took a moment to suck on her replenished water bottle¡¯s straw.

    ¡°Upload all of our combat footage and set the servers to broadcast continually from now on. If we¡¯re going to die in this shithole, we¡¯re at least going to have a film made of it. Who knows, we might be the next Last Stand.¡±

    *

    Smoke filled the corridors and tight confines of the bunker as Sigwaxa pulled what was left of her people back. Forced to slowly give ground to the chimera as their overwhelming numbers pushed them on the back heel.

    She and her battle buddy took turns covering each other¡¯s withdrawal. Her suit¡¯s ammunition reserve depleted, she¡¯d ejected her mounted weapons and armed herself with a pulser.

    She¡¯d have given anything to have the acid thrower right now.

    Pulsers raced between the two groups, carving chips out of the walls and chunks out of flesh. Men, women and beasts all cried out in pain as the superheated gasses cored charred passages through their bodies.

    There was no blood from these wounds, the heat of the pulsers cauterising the flesh instantly.

    Others were killed by solid shot weapons. No matter how sophisticated weapons became, kinetic-based weapons were still just as effective at blowing someone¡¯s life away as the most powerful laser.

    They were far messier than pulsers. Bodily fluids filled the air and spilled to the ground as high velocity projectiles bored their way through their targets.

    ¡°Grenades!¡± she yelled, yanking the pin out of her own grenade and lobbing it towards the advancing enemy.

    There was a brief flash, howls of pain and the enemy¡¯s fire slackened slightly. She used that pause to good effect, reaching out and yanking one of her people into cover by the straps on their harness.

    ¡°We can¡¯t hold them boss,¡± whispered the injured solider. Visor shattered, suit so damaged that his Friend or Foe chip wasn¡¯t broadcasting, his face was so badly burned she couldn¡¯t recognise him.

    How the fuck is he not dead? she thought.

    His vocal chords rasped with each word and blood bubbled over his lips as he spoke. ¡°You keep pulling back, leave me, no way are the medi-nanites going to fix me.¡±

    She dashed away tears that sprung from her eyes, angry at losing yet another member of her team.

    It was her job to keep them alive, to succeed, not to be forced down into a dead-end rat hole with no easy way of escaping.

    Sighing, she nodded, and passed the soldier a spare pulser battery and a pulse grenade.

    ¡°That¡¯s all I can spare. Die hard.¡±

    They both chuckled at what passed for a joke. She nodded once more, patted his shoulder and ordered the rest of her people back further into the bunker complex.

    ¡°Make them pay for every step, people.¡± She followed her own order, tucking her pulser into her shoulder, drawing a bead on a chimera close combat specialist and blowing a hole in its chest armour.

    ¡°Move and shoot, move and shoot!¡± she waited to hear her battle buddies¡¯ confirmation that he was in position and covering her before she made a quick sprint.

    She leaped over a shattered desk to take up position whilst he moved. Desperate to keep the enemy¡¯s head down she sprayed the door and the corridor beyond with pulser fire.

    Chimeras pushed on, using their shields to block her unit¡¯s fire, whilst their comrades fired over their shoulders, laying down an increasingly heavy wave of fire.

    ¡°Flamer!¡± she ducked down as the flame trooper ran forward and launched a wave of superheated gases towards the chimeras.

    Screams filled the tight corridor and walking chimera torches staggered into the room. None of her people saved them from their suffering, ammunition levels were too low and none of them felt inclined to show mercy to those who had betrayed them.

    She felt a tap on her shoulder as the flamer ran past. She was now the only thing between the chimeras and the wounded soldier.

    ¡°Time to go,¡± she whispered to herself, physically forcing herself to stand and sprint towards the exit. Heart aching, she left her trooper to die.

    Shots whickered all around her as the chimeras finally recovered from the effects of the flamer, a couple clipping her armoured back, pushing her even faster through the door.

    ¡°Sealing!¡± yelled a cyber-tech, visor open as he connected an optic cable, clicking it directly into his cybernetic eye.

    He held a specialist role in her unit which allowed them to fight for or against bunkers, the soldiers slipping into an electronic alternate reality.

    ¡°Bastards are trying to get a full spread hack on. Entering V-space. Watch my back.¡±

    He twitched, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth moving so rapidly it was as if he was speaking in binary. None of it made sense, but that was fine. So long as he was doing his job he could speak in tongues for as long as it took.

    ¡°Done!¡± he gasped, wiping away a think trickle of blood from his nose. ¡°They were good, but I managed to cook their brains and seal off the bunker from any further hacks. They were trying to turn the auto-defences against us.¡±

    ¡°Good job, field promotion. Corporal.¡± She made the promotion official as she spoke, using her suit¡¯s computer to access the unit¡¯s Table of Organisation and make the promotion.

    Considering all the other officers were dead, that made her the commanding officer and so gave her rights she wouldn¡¯t normally have held.

    ¡°Set a mine on this door. We¡¯ll move down the corridor and take the rooms at the end and to the left and right. Create a mousehole from those rooms so that people don¡¯t have to enter this corridor to leave it again.¡±

    At his nod she moved as quickly as her battered and bruised body would let her. Building up speed she crashed through the door at the end of the corridor and swept the room with her weapon to make sure there weren¡¯t any nasty surprises.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot!¡± Sigwaxa was so surprised she very nearly did shoot. A tech, a rear echelon trooper who was more civilian than solder, had sprung up from behind a bank of screens.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡± she snapped, lowering her weapon to make sure she didn¡¯t plug the idiot there and then.

    ¡°Was on my break rotation. Did a 12-hour solid shift with half a shift overtime. Slept through the order to evacuate. Got trapped here when the attack happened.¡±

    Adrenaline had his chest heaving and his speech limited to simple sentences.

    ¡°You armed?¡± she held up as hand as others piled into the room, all seemingly just as surprised as she was to see the tech.

    ¡°Just my P2K SMG. Three magazines. Not used them yet. I was manning these.¡± He waved his hands towards the bank of screens and she realised that he¡¯d been using VR controls to fire three automated turrets at once.

    ¡°Good job,¡± and it was. Not many people could take the input from two, let alone three, automated defence turrets and use them as effectively as he had.

    Backup displays showed piles of bodies and smoking enemy vehicles on the plains outside of their bunker, a testament to his skill.

    ¡°Kill tally?¡±

    ¡°Computer estimates I managed to put down a company.¡±

    ¡°A company! Bloody hell. Good job. They still up?¡±

    His mouth turned down, ¡°No, buggers did a hack which overcooked the ammunition. It¡¯s caseless on those mounts so it just fried the electrics and that was it. Boom.¡± He mimicked an explosion with his hands.

    ¡°Okay. Well, you¡¯re with us now. There¡¯s an estimated three companies of chimeras in the bunker complex. We¡¯re carrying out a fighting withdrawal.¡± She decided to cut to the chase as there was no point in sugar-coating their situation. ¡°Turns out we¡¯re the only unit left in this sector. And we¡¯ve caused so many casualties they¡¯re throwing everything they have at either capturing or killing us. Good for our people in the other sectors as it buys them time ...¡±

    ¡°And bad for us as there¡¯s no getting away,¡± he finished grimly. ¡°Sign me up. I take it I¡¯m attached to you now?¡±

    Sigwaxa smiled and tilted her head. ¡°That you are. We¡¯re going to hold this room and the two next to it on the corridor. Think you can lock down any rooms further along, so they have to blow through each one rather than just stroll through the doors?¡±

    ¡°Piss easy. Give me a couple of secs. Your cyber-specialist could help as well.¡±

    Sigwaxa called over to the newly promoted corporal, ordering him to help the technician.

    ¡°People, how we doing with the mouseholes?¡± she said over the units comm-net.

    ¡°Ready to blow boss. Just make sure everyone¡¯s well clear. If you stand in line with the main door, you should be fine.¡±

    ¡°Should isn¡¯t really very ...¡± she didn¡¯t get to finish as the walls to either side of her erupted, holes roughly one metre by one metre appearing in the once pristine concrete.

    A dusty head poked its way through, ¡°Didn¡¯t get anyone did we?¡± the trooper asked, smiling as she did so.

    ¡°No, good job.¡±

    ¡°Contact!¡± The enemy were through the far door of the corridor.

    ¡°Engage, hold until I order the pull back.¡±

    Waiting until everyone in the room had taken cover, she pulled the door open. Enemy fire poured through, ripping apart desks, monitors and piles of paperwork, filling the air with dust and smoke.

    ¡°They really want this room,¡± she muttered drily over the unit¡¯s channel. Chuckles filled the net, a soldier¡¯s dark sense of humour always able to surface no matter what the situation.

    ¡°Doors locked and blocked, boss¡± said the technician.

    ¡°Good job, move through to the next room, get preparing things there. Any droids left?¡±

    ¡°Not sure. Droid command is four floors above us. Secondary command went silent after the first attack, so I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s because they were all dead, or because they left the bunker.¡±

    Christ, this really is a shit show, she thought. Granted, they weren¡¯t members of the Dominion¡¯s Immortals, but they had a proud regimental history stretching millennia.

    The rebellion should have been crushed before it even had a chance to start. And the enemy should never have been able to get this close without detection.

    Turning back to the matter at hand, she poked her rifle around the door jam, sighted on a large cluster of rat chimeras, and hosed them.

    Smaller than most of the chimeras, they were often used in a scouting and insertion role, their small profiles allowing them to get into areas no other sentient being could.

    As such, they were low to the ground, and mostly being ignored by her troopers who were understandably trying to kill the larger beasts.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let the tanks take up your whole focus!¡± she yelled, breaking over the unit¡¯s channel chatter. ¡°You nearly let those bastard rats through.¡±

    She hosed the group of rats again, just to make sure they were dead. Rat chimeras had a reputation for being tenacious, and ever so slightly psychotic.

    A pulser hit a grenade, blowing chunks of rat all over the corridor, causing an advancing gorilla to pause and rise back, his armoured shield lifting slightly.

    It was enough. His shins exploded as her troopers poured fire under his shield and he went down with a shrieking roar. She sighed in relief and served up the coup de grace, blowing the gorilla''s head apart..

    There was a sudden lull in the firing, and then it petered out entirely.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? Anyone got eyes on?¡± she called out, moving her weapon back and forth so that the sight could pick out any enemy troops. There was nothing. Not a sound, just the groans of the wounded of both sides.

    ¡°Can¡¯t see any of them. They¡¯ve pulled back ... I think,¡± called out the corporal.

    ¡°Squad one, get back in here, I don¡¯t trust the gits. Everyone else get ready.¡±

    Squad one poured through the mousehole in their room, huffing and puffing as various items of equipment caught on the jagged edges.

    ¡°Move to the next room. Get ready to cover us. Blow a couple of mouseholes and get some firing points as well. This room is big enough so turn into a killing chamber if they push in.¡± She ordered, still scanning the corridor beyond with her weapon.

    She switched between visual frequencies, trying to see if anyone was cloaked and approaching them that way, but the corridor was still devoid of life.

    The Dominion, the Achaemenid Human Dominion to give it its full name, had been around for one hundred thousand years, and yet troops like her still found themselves sweating their tits off because the kit they had couldn¡¯t tell them where the enemy was.

    ¡°We¡¯re in, blowing the wall. Cover!¡±

    She hunched down, rocking slightly as the hole was blown. Even with the explosion there was still no reaction from the enemy troops.

    ¡°Bastards are up to something boss, I can feel it,¡± muttered Jonker over his comm.

    ¡°But what?¡± she asked. ¡°They¡¯ve forced us beneath the damned earth, wiped out every other unit. All they have to do is keep us here, starve us out. What else?¡±

    ¡°Pride. We¡¯ve held out longer than any other unit. Killed their people. They have to wipe us out,¡± said Jonker.

    And then it happened. Grenades sailed into the corridor, bouncing along the ground before detonating. Her visor flared, overwhelmed by the flashes, electro-magnetic and audio pulses.

    ¡°Fire!¡± she ordered, holding her trigger firmly down as her helmet tried to reset. Screeches, howls and roars filled her ears as the audio was restored first. ¡°They¡¯re coming! Enemy in the corridor.¡±

    Vision was restored a split second later revealing a corridor packed with chimera of all breeds, shield-bearing rhinos leading the charge as their back-mounted flechette guns filled the corridor.

    Sigwaxa swore as she saw her people¡¯s fire being soaked up by the thick ballistic plating.

    Sigwaxa pulled a grenade from a suit mount, primed it, and bowled it along the corridor. Three others followed in quick succession.

    ¡°Cover!¡±

    Dust billowed down the corridor as the grenades detonated. ¡°Charge!¡±

    Pushing herself up, she stepped around the corner, firing into the mass of bodies before her, switching her shots between those lying, and those still standing as she sprinted forward.

    ¡°No prisoners!¡± she screamed. A rat lunged at her. Titanium reinforced teeth closed with a snap millimetres away from her visor.

    A quick snap kick to the groin folded it over, exposing its neck. No hesitation. She smashed the butt of her rifle and broke its neck with one blow.

    It was a last-ditch attempt to force the enemy back. She wanted to cause so many casualties they wouldn¡¯t want to continue.

    Risky, but she couldn¡¯t think of anything better. A black-backed Jackal cried out, the high-pitched call setting her teeth on edge. As it was designed to.

    Accepting the challenge she stamped forward, thrusting her barrel at its face. It parried with its own rifle, knocking hers to the side, opening her up for its own thrust. Twisting, she slipped his attack and drove the butt of her rifle into its face.

    Before it could react, she raked the rifle back, slashing across its face and then thrust straight back, driving her barrel deep into its throat.

    Stepping forward again, keeping the barrel in place, she jammed the rifle butt forward and ripped the hole in its throat wide open.

    Dipping her shoulder, she barged the corpse aside. A chimp leaped through the air and slammed both heels into her chest. She staggered as the force knocked her rifle from her hands.

    Her opponent landed on the floor, then bounced back straight back, both hands throwing heavy punches, powered knuckle dusters crackling with energy.

    Throwing her arm up she took the first hit on her bicep, then ducked the second. Changing her block into an overhand left, she used the distraction to draw her vibro-knife.

    With a roar she punched the blade up into the chimp¡¯s sternum. Blood gushed down over arm, painting her light-khaki armour deep red. More blood flowed out of its mouth.

    Something unseen crashed into her back, causing her to stumble into the wall. As she did so, her eyes flicked to her unit¡¯s status. It was red across the board.

    I¡¯m the only one left! she thought, her stomach flipping, tears prickling her eyes. What passed for silence on the battlefield filled the corridor. She was the only human being still standing.

    The weight fell from her back, and she looked down as it hit the floor at her feet. It was Jonker. Choking back a sob, she turned and ran deeper into the bunker.

    *

    Lungs burning, Sigwaxa ran, chased by the chirps, whistles and tweets of African Wild Dog chimeras, the Jagters.

    Light infantry they were fast on their feet, the perfect skirmishers, descended from stock which hunted by running its prey to death.

    Tendrils of fear snaked through her brain like a virus as the blood pounded in her veins. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath.

    ¡°Fight hard. Die Hard.¡± Sigwaxa chanted as she tried to keep a level head.

    A large red ¡°A¡±, with ¡°5¡± and an arrow pointing further down the corridor let her know she was near an armoury. Sprinting the last few metres she skidded to a halt.

    She cursed her trembling hands as she tried to key in the door code. It chirruped passively aggressively at her as she failed on two attempts.

    ¡°Fucking wanker!¡± she screamed in frustration. With a deep breath she forced herself to take her time. ¡°Less haste, more speed.¡± She muttered.

    A more friendly chime signalled success on the third attempt. With a hiss the door started to open. As soon as there was enough room she darted through the gap.

    Weapons racks lined walls. Large tanks caught her eye, a smile creeping across her face.

    ¡°Braai time fuckers.¡± She sounds of her pursuers were drawing closer. She had little time.

    Dragging two of the tanks out of the armoury she opened their valves. Ducking back into the room, she gathered a block of high-explosive and a timer.

    Placing the explosive onto the tanks, she slipped in the timer, set it for twenty seconds and ran.

    This far down into the bunker, and with the elevators disabled, there were few escape routes. Once the fire took hold, it was going to roast anyone without an intimate knowledge of the escape routes.

    I fucking hope, she thought.

    The explosive detonated five seconds sooner than the count in her head. Even though she was separated from it by a switch in the corner she staggered as the blast wave raced down the tight confines.

    Her suit bleeped an alarm as the intense heat of the explosion washed over her and charred the paint off her suit.

    Flames licked along the walls, moving almost as quickly as she did, nipping at her heels.

    She grimaced. Her suit¡¯s rear armour had been compromised. The heat of the fire seared her back. Despite the agony she still managed to smile at the sounds of agony behind her.

    No way are any of those bastards going to be following me, she thought with grim satisfaction.

    She risked a glance back and gasped at the sight of the wall of flame behind her. Visor up, her eyes immediately dried in the extreme heat.

    Fuck, fuck, fuck. The laws of unintended consequences and sod had given birth to a bastard child. It wasn¡¯t meant to be burn this fast, she thought.

    Chinning a command into her helmet, she sent a needle flicking into her thigh, stimulants being forced into her body.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± She shrieked as they kicked in. Her heart felt as though it would explode whilst her brain raced as fast as a computer, picking out the best route to take through the shattered remains of the room.

    Not one for extreme sports she¡¯d always admired parkour runners, especially those who were able to do so in the variable g arenas.

    Yet in that very instant she plotted and ran a course which would have had world champions balking. Nothing stood in her way as she vaulted, tucked, clipped and spun across the room.

    Skidding to a halt bare centimetres way from the emergency tunnel she punched the hatch open. Shooting forward on hands and knees she entered the dark tunnel beyond as quickly as possible.

    Designed to stop enemy troops from getting a clear shot on anyone trying to escape, the tunnel zigged and zagged, whilst acting as a baffle against the immense pressure caused by explosions.

    It came to an end after a lung-bursting twenty metres, a metal-ringed ladder reaching up into the darkness above.

    ¡°Four floors down, each floor with ceilings of ten feet, ten feet of armour-crete between each floor. That¡¯s ...¡± her mind raced for a fleeting moment before the stims wore off. ¡°A fuck-tonne.¡±

    Her shoulders slumped as she placed her face in her hands and quietly wept. Huge sobs wracked her body. After a short while she stopped. Rolling her shoulders she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her suit.

    Smoke had started to fill the tunnel. It was acrid and made her eyes smart, so she flipped her visor shut.

    ¡°Steel yourself,¡± she whispered, the motto of regiment, ¡°and test your mettle.¡± She grasped the first rung and winced as her bruised body protested. Pushing it to the back of her head she started to climb.

    Each step was agony, her muscles protesting as she took a step and then reached for the next rung. Her suit¡¯s powered servos didn¡¯t prevent muscle fatigue, just lengthened the time it took for her to tire.

    The stims flushed from her system, she was now experiencing the come down and it threatened to crush her. Every few metres she stopped, hooked a carabiner onto the rung and rested.

    She sobbed with relief as she reached the top of the shaft. Pulling herself on to the platform over the ladder, she knelt by the shaft¡¯s exit hatch.

    Sigwaxa keyed in the door release code. Despite the thick clouds of smoke filling the shaft she paused before hitting the release. Listening, she tried to detect whether any enemy were waiting to ambush her. Nothing.

    Just fucking do it, she thought, and hit the release. As soon as the door hissed opened, she squirmed through it.

    ¡°Bollocks.¡± The corridor beyond was filled with enemy soldiers.

    She stood. Every eye was on her. No one moved.

    Seconds passed. Her breathing slowed. Reading her HUD she was surprised to see her heartbeat had fallen to her usual rest rate. Even more surprising was that she was ready to die.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Fucking come on!¡±

    They came. Her pulser cut down more than she could count before the battery readout flashed empty.

    Tossing it away she activated her spear and shield. She was too slow. Sigwaxa screamed as a leo¡¯s energy combat claws raked across her gut. Her suit¡¯s armour parted and exposed her vulnerable flesh before the rake turned into a thrust.

    More pain than her suit¡¯s painkillers could deal with blurred her vision and drove the breath from her body.

    The leo smiled as it leaned in to lick her visor, certain that she was helpless.

    She slammed her helmet into its sensitive snout. Shocked, it jerked its head back and up. As soon as its throat was exposed, she drove a stiff-fingered thrust into its windpipe.

    The leo staggered back as it waved its claws for balance and gasped for air.

    Sigwaxa closed in with a stamp to its knee which forced it in a direction nature never intended. She followed up with a powerful knee to its face as her opponent¡¯s shattered knee gave way.

    Grabbing hold of the leo¡¯s head, she finished it off with a twin thumb thrust deep into its eyes.

    Silence once more filled the corridor. Her gruesome kill seemed to have the chimera cowed for the moment.

    ¡°Motherfucker!¡± she gasped as her body finally reacted to the stress she¡¯d put through over the last few hours.

    The pain in her guts radiated throughout her body. It was more than she¡¯d ever thought possible.

    Knowing she couldn¡¯t risk collapsing she locked her armour¡¯s legs. It would buy her a few precious seconds.

    ¡°Suit, execute Broken Arrow protocol, my location.¡±

    +++++ Broken Arrow protocol confirmed, awaiting Command response +++++

    Unable to take the increasing pain, she chinned the emergency med-pack button. Soldiers called it the ¡°fuck it¡±. It was a last resort measure.

    Hand clasped to her stomach, she groaned through bloody teeth as the nanites tried to repair her torn flesh. There were too few, and the damage that the claws had wreaked on her guts was too severe.

    From the smell, she thought her bowel had been perforated. No matter, it would buy her the time she needed. Keep her alive for a little longer.

    Everywhere she looked through pain-blurred eyes chimeras gibbered as they stared at her, the last human soldier in the sector.

    Every soldier under her command showed as KIA on her HUD, the comm-net hissing gently in the background; the cries for help forever silenced.

    +++++ Kinetic strike authorised. Send confirmation +++++

    She smiled through her pain and straightened. Letting the loose coils of her intestines spill to the ground she keyed the confirmation on her palm pad.

    Silence descended as a huge gorchimera knuckled forward, back mounted .50 cal trained on her.

    ¡°Surrender,¡± it rasped, nostrils flaring, huge chest heaving.

    Even over the stench of her own intestines she could smell the gorchimera. Pheromones designed to install bowel-loosening fear in its enemies filled her nostrils.

    Sigwaxa was beyond fear, acceptance of her death granting her a zen-like serenity and contentment.

    She slid a foot back, blading her stance. She activated her iklwa. Legs trembling like a new-born foal¡¯s, she pushed away the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her.

    ¡°Not a chance bra,¡± she choked, blood dribbling over her chin as she spoke. ¡°How about you surrender?¡±

    They laughed, if the sounds that came out of their mouths could be described as that.

    The noise sent a chill down her spine, a primal response she would never be able to master.

    ¡°Seriously, surrender. You¡¯ll be sent elsewhere in the Dominion. You¡¯re too valuable to execute.¡±

    Roaring laughter followed her last sentence, so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of the kinetic strike as a one-metre-long rod of titanium powered into, and through, her.

    A picosecond later and Sigmaxa, last member of 5th Bhuyeni Pulse Rifles as well as a mile-wide area of the Veld and all it contained ceased to exist.

 Chapter 2 - It was an accident

    "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Eagle One-Three-Five, we are floating free, engines dead. Mayday, mayday, mayday." Nayler Gibson sighed as he sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    "You''d think some bugger would have bloody heard us by now, Gibbo," whined Rayalls Napier, for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

    "For fuck''s sake Nape," snapped Gibson, "learn some damned patience! We''ve issued the mayday, I''ve put the bloody thing on loop, and we''ll just sit tight until some schmuck turns up. Just," he sighed again, wondering for the umpteenth time why he had signed the moaning sod on, "be patient."

    They settled down into silence; patient and comfortable for Gibson; sulky, petulant and no doubt pouty for Napier. Needs must I suppose, thought Gibson, promising himself to be pickier the next time he hired on crew.

    Times were hard for both the Velvet Glove Corporation and Iron Fist Security ever since the failed coup on Texarcana.

    Not that the fucking failure was our fault. But the Dominion liked its scapegoats and, right now, they were the perfect stool pigeons. As a result, recruitment queues that had once stretched the length of a docking bay were now reduced to pathetic, twitchy specimens such as Rayalls Arseknuckle Napier. What. A. Twat.

    #

    Five long, not-so-silent but rather whiney hours later, Gibson was just about ready to put a bullet through Napier''s greasy-haired, long-faced head. Then there was a crackle as the comms unit kicked in and a slow Ozwin-accented voice drawled out of the speaker.

    "Eagle One-Three-Five, this is Givens Two, Commander Leonard here, how can I help?" The accent was so thick that Gibson could barely recognise common parlay, the universal trade language, an ancient Tearan language called Anglish. Thankfully, Napier kept his gob shut as Gibson keyed his mic.

    "Wellhey, Givens Two, engines dead, life support now starting to fail. How far you out?" He cast his eyes over the sensor array, trying to match Leonard''s estimate with what they told him. "Roger that, thirty minutes. We''ll be waiting."

    From the reading his scanners gave him, Givens Two was a much larger freighter than the one they were currently drifting in, more than capable of picking up his ship and taking it back to port. The size indicated that Leonard had a lot of creds to his name. Freighters that size weren''t cheap to buy, and they certainly weren''t cheap to fuel and run.

    A ship that size is either going to have a lot of automated systems, or a large number of crew, he thought. Looking over at Napier, Gibson¡¯s mouth twisted. I can¡¯t trust that plank. He might be a veteran, but damned if know how he survived this long.

    Sighing, he keyed in a quick command, activating two combat droids. It was probably overkill, and they were damned expensive, but on the whole, he trusted them far more than his assistant.

    And this was supposed to be an easy bounty, he thought bitterly, mouth twisting.

    He toggled the targeting system on the one slightly pathetic laser they had, scanning through the various sub-systems that the other ship sported, taking note of each and every one. Fingers dancing across the hologrammic projection of the other ship, he quickly targeted weak points, marking them in order of priority. Just in case.

    #

    The manoeuvres required to match speed, orientate docking ports, match up those docking ports and then regulate the air flow between ships in a void required a delicate touch, a great deal of concentration and flawless mathematics.

    That was exactly why any sane commander pressed the button on the console labeled auto-pilot, and then told the computer what needed to be done. After that, it was just a matter of sitting back, drinking some fine whiskey, and getting ready to welcome their saviours.

    In the case of Gibson and Napier, this meant getting into their evac-suits, cursing as they fitted their catheters. No matter how many times Gibson had fitted one, it still felt unnatural. Still, it was better than drowning in your own urine whilst floating in zero-g.

    Fed-up to the back teeth with Napier''s complaining, he explained through gritted teeth that the reason they fitted their evac-suits was because no self-respecting spacer would trust a computer to ensure that the seals were tight, nor trust the last hick engineer to service the ship properly to make sure those seals were in tip-top condition. Especially not on a rust-bucket like theirs.

    ¡®Well, you learn something every day. Never did understand why Marines liked their jobs so much. Still don¡¯t. Much rather be on the ground where you can at least run away from the enemy.¡¯

    Gibson threw a sharp glance over at Napier. The idiot¡¯s files hadn¡¯t been glowing in their recommendations, but Napier had served with a number of different mercenary companies, and avoided any disciplinary matters beyond the usual drunken mistake.

    Napier¡¯s last statement had Gibson¡¯s stomach turning. You don¡¯t joke about running away when you¡¯re about to enter a potentially dangerous situation.

    Finally, the air locks cycled, the computers talked, the lights turned green and the doors hissed as they opened. Gibson squinted as lights in the other ship backlit the freighter''s crew, quickly flicking down the anti-glare visor on his helmet.

    "Executive Officer Wellard, requesting permission to come on board," crackled a voice in his ear. As ever the niceties had to be observed. Although the guns in the freighter crew''s hands made giving his permission a moot point.

    Slowly, and ever so obviously, Gibson raised his hands, fingers outstretched to show that they were empty.

    "Wellhey there. Permission granted Mister Wellard. No need for weapons. I''m sure we can handle things nice and peaceful. We''re just after a little succour is all." He laid on the hick Ozwin accent as thickly as he could. A core world Dominion accent didn''t always go down so well amongst the citizens of so-called independent systems.

    ¡®You¡¯ll be getting all the succour you need,¡¯ said Wellard. ¡®All we want in return is your ship, your cargo, and you. Succour comes with a price afterall.¡¯

    As the pirates continued to advance he stepped slowly back from the opening, hands still high as the three figures started walking towards him, boots clanking on the metal decking. Poking his tongue out, he flicked a switch on his helmet''s internal console and spoke softly.

    "Three. All armed. Fire when I close my fist," his earpiece clicked three times, reassuring him that Napier was ready. He continued to back up until he was up against a bulkhead, a thick I-beam above his head.

    The three freighter crew moved into his ship, stepping forward with the confidence of men who had made an easy snatch. Almost as if boarding ships broadcasting maydays was an everyday occurrence for them.

    Unfortunately for them, Gibson being boarded was an everyday occurrence. Forcing down the adrenaline that was surging through his body, he took a deep breath, held it, and breathed out slowly. One more step of the lead boarder and a clenched fist signalled the start of less than two seconds of bloody violence.

    Napier was quick to fire, his assault shotgun roaring on fully automatic, the mixed load of buck and flechette shells blowing bits of evac-suit, blood and flesh into the stale air. As soon as the shooting and screaming started, the boarders instinctively started to turn towards the source of the incoming fire.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    That split second was all Gibson needed. He snatched his shotgun from where it rested on the I-beam above him. There were several reasons that spacers used shotguns. The first was because in space, no one wants to risk a fire or decompression. The second was because most ships have tight corridors and small rooms; shotguns mostly fire pellets or flechettes of various different sizes in an ever-widening arc which meant that people with very little skill could fill a tight space with a large number of deadly projectiles very quickly. The third was because those same tight corridors and spaces could cause bullets to ricochet around like a ball in an old pinball machine, killing friend and foe alike.

    His shotgun bucked in his hands. He didn''t bother aiming from the shoulder, just levelled the gun so that the barrel-mounted laser showed he was on target and pulled the trigger. Caught in a crossfire the boarders were cut to pieces, dropping bonelessly to the deck before they could even get a shot off, their magnetised boots causing their ankles to snap under the deadweight of their bodies.

    Scooting forward, Gibson placed a shot in each of their chests, then waited a few seconds before giving Napier the all clear.

    Chinning a command on his helmet¡¯s computer, he sent the combat droids ahead of them.

    ¡®Remember, they¡¯ll be expecting their people to report in the next five minutes if everything goes as smoothly as they¡¯re expecting. Only it¡¯s not going to. I¡¯m activating a pulse now.¡¯

    He chinned another command, and there was a sudden squawl over their earpieces. To anyone aboard Leonard¡¯s ship it would look like a sudden failure of Eagle 135¡¯s sensor array, something which always result in an EMP pulse.

    ¡®Hopefully, they won¡¯t be too suspicious if they don¡¯t hear anything from Wellard.¡¯

    Napier said something instantly forgettable as Gibson followed the two small combat droids into the depths of the pirate¡¯s ship.

    #

    Moving through the pirates'' ship was a tense and nerve-wracking time. Every corridor, corner and door had to be checked before they could move on. Every unexpected hiss, clang and rumble made Gibson''s trigger finger twitch, and his arsehole clench.

    No matter how many times I bloody do this it never gets easier. He took a sip from his suit''s internal water bladder, washing the acrid tang of adrenalin from his mouth.

    Looking back he saw Napier''s chest rising and falling rapidly, even through the suit he was wearing. Clearly the other man was feeling just as a tense but was struggling to nail it down. Gibson tried to push the thought that he really had fucked up when he hired Napier to the back of his mind. Now was most certainly not the time for the Dread Captain Hindsight to come to the rescue.

    Their destination was the command deck. Situated at the very centre of the ship, safely tucked away from rogue space debris, lasers and missiles, it was literally the heart of the freighter.

    ¡®Coming up to an intersection, sending droid 1 to cover.¡¯

    Scuttling along on eight legs like a murder-spider-from-hell, the droid ran up the corridor wall and hung from the ceiling, micro-caliber hyper-velocity minigun sweeping the corridor beyond.

    Sparks erupted from its armour, a leg spiralling away as it was blown off. Its minigun opened fire, caseless ammunition ensuring the air wasn¡¯t filled with spent cartridges. Edging closer to the corner of the corridor, Gibson poked his shotgun around, its sight projecting a clear picture of what lay beyond.

    ¡®Good god,¡¯ he said, mouth suddenly dry, ¡®they¡¯ve got a Steiner!¡¯ Steiners were bioroids, cyborgs with artificially created biological organs. Used by the Dominion as slaves, they were ideal for combat. This one sported multiple shotguns, and some blade attachments which Gibson most certainly didn¡¯t want to get anywhere near him.

    Napier gibbered in reply, his fear infectious.

    ¡®Shut the fuck up!¡¯ yelled Gibson. Hating Napier more than he had thought possible at that moment. ¡®Move across the opening when I say.¡¯

    ¡®No fucking way!¡¯ screamed Napier as the droid was blown to smithereens and heavy footsteps could be heard approaching. ¡®Steiners are serious shit!¡¯

    ¡®You were attached to a MechaPanzer unit. Grow some damned balls, or you don¡¯t get get a combat bonus,¡¯ snapped Gibson, squeezing off a couple of shots. More to do something than to seriously damage the Steiner.

    ¡®Logistics! I was in logistics. I ¡­ doctored my resume,¡¯ moaned Napier.

    ¡®Xerxes the Everlasting!¡¯ snarled Gibson. Closing his eyes in exasperation for a second, he took a deep breath, centering himself and pushing away the thoughts of what he¡¯d do to the recruitment officer at Grinzo Docks.

    ¡®I¡¯ll send droid 2 around the corner, that damned beast¡¯s only 10 meters away from us.

    #

    Looking around the corner of the well-lit corridor they were in, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a thick air-tight door with a helpful sign saying ''command deck''.

    "Napier, we''re there. Move forward to the door, I''ll cover you."

    Napier brushed past him and quickly covered the ten metres or so to the door, taking up a position to the right, angling his weapon so that it would cover the left-hand side of the room when it opened.

    As soon as Napier was in position, Gibson rushed forward, taking up a position just behind and to the left of Napier, covering the right-hand side of the room. Taking a breath he tongued his mic three times.

    Napier snapped out his elbow, slamming it into the door release. As soon as the door had risen fully, Napier swept the left hand side of the room, then stepped round to the right, quickly followed by Gibson who stepped round to the left, their guns sweeping the corners quickly and efficiently.

    "Don''t fucking move! Iron Fist bounty hunters, we have a warrant!" He laid the sights of his shotgun over the open-mouthed and wide-eyed face of a teenage girl, who, very wisely in Gibson''s opinion was quickly raising her hands.

    "Is there anyone else on this ship? Are you Elspeth Givens?" She nodded jerkily, mouth open as she gasped for breath.

    "Good girl, rest easy. We only have a warrant of arrest for you. Now, I need you to remain calm. Your daddy and brothers are dead. We had no choice, they were armed and you know how many people they''ve shot." He winced as the girl''s face crumpled and she began to sob, hands clutching at her hair.

    "You fucking snatch head!" She screamed at a pitch that Gibson didn''t realise was possible and spun to point at Napier, "Fuck y..." Blood erupted from her neck and she dropped bonelessly to the deck, her head slamming into the floor with an eye-watering thunk.

    Napier lowered his shotgun, "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He didn''t get to finish what he had been about to say either as Gibson rushed forward and smashed the butt of his shotgun into Napier''s stomach, the force of the blow carrying through even the thick material of his suit.

    "You stupid wet quiff! She. Was. Unarmed!" Gibson punctuated each of the last three words with hard stamping kicks to Napier''s gut, the man writhing in pain and desperately trying to fend the heavy boots off.

    "I thought she going for me, it was an accident." Napier gasped through sobs, Gibson''s helmet speakers planting the man''s whining voice deep in his ears.

    He leaned down and snatched Napier''s gun from his hands, cursing himself for taking on such a cretin. "She was a kid you dumbass. A scared, unarmed kid!" he roared into his mic. He sighed, leaned down and grabbed Napier''s arm, hauling him to his feet.

    "Scan for any other life forms." Napier stumbled towards a panel and quickly did as he was told, sobs subsiding into sniffling punctuated by constant whining that it was an accident.

    Gibson felt his stomach roiling with anger as Napier''s voice flooded his ears, now blaming the girl for pointing at him. He took a deep breath, Calm down, get the job done, get paid.

    At Napier''s stuttered confirmation that there was no one else on the ship, they set about the grisly task of collecting and tagging the bodies for delivery.

    #

    Gibson strolled down the hotel corridor, arms outstretched, fingers brushing along the painted walls. Every door he passed he mentally counted the numbers down until he was finally at the rendezvous.

    He knocked, three times quickly, three slowly. Then gave the door two quick boots.

    The three-inch steel composite door hissed open, heavy bolts thinking back into their housings. Considering they were on a space station, the air-tight security was more than reassuring. Banner might have been a frontier planet but, unlike some places he''d had the misfortune of being in, they hadn''t skimped on building the gateway to their planet. The walls that the door revealed were also thick steel composite. So thick it might actually be possible to get a good night''s sleep, he thought, the idea so appealing that he could almost feel a cool pillow pressing against his cheek.

    As the door continued to draw back, Napier''s grinning face was finally revealed. "Boss! Good to see you, please, enter my abode." He stepped aside and waved Gibson through, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed in a clumsy attempt at bonding.

    Gibson strolled over to a club chair facing the door and settled himself whilst Napier waited for the door to finish closing. Neither spoke until the door hissed as the seal was closed.

    "Kill Warrant has been filed, the creds are in the account. The Ozwin Police Service thanks us for our service." The chair creaked as Gibson shifted his weight, adjusting itself automatically to his body shape.

    Napier laughed as he turned away from the door. "Sure was a damn good jo..." Screaming as his newly shattered kneecap gave way, he pitched face forward onto the carpet.

    "What ..." He screamed again, clutching at the yellow shards of bone that pierced his flesh. "What did you do .... do that for?" He sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

    "You killed the girl. What the fucking hell did you think would happen? That we''d laugh about it, have a drink, fuck some whores?" He laughed at the look on Napier''s face, Dumb shit really did!

    "But ... it was an accident. She was a criminal." Gasped Napier, a small bubble of snot popping out of his nostril.

    "Yeah, well this isn''t." Gibson''s next shot plastered the door with Napier''s head. Blood jetted into the air from the stump of his neck as his heart continued to pump, splashing the ceiling and contrasting, in Gibson''s opinion, rather nicely with the decor.

    He waited for five minutes, gun pointed at the door, ears cocked for any panicked screams or shouts of alarm, but nothing and no-one came. Kicking off his boots he wandered over to the bed, lay down, closed his eyes and slept deeply and dreamlessly.

 Chapter 3 - Terminus

    Terminus, the end of a railway, or a travel route. The end of a long journey, or just a quick trip out. The end of a journey could also herald the start of a new life. But a terminus is also the start if you''re going in the other direction. The terminus in Ozwin was usually the end, but mostly the start. People didn''t tend to stay in Ozwin for long.

    The town was no more than fifty years old, a frontier town on a frontier planet that had only been colonised for three hundred years. Only the brave, foolish, hopelessly optimistic, desperate or on the run came to Ozwin.

    Nina Williams had seen them all. Every town, no matter how big or small needs a place that people can gather to eat and, most importantly, drink. The First and Last was her pride and joy. It was, after the cursory town customs check, the first thing any newcomer saw as they exited the Terminus. It was also the last thing that people leaving would see.

    People often left. Life in a frontier town was hard. It sucked the life out of all but the most hardy. Mine collapses, indigenous life, disease, accidents, inadequate healthcare and their fellow humans took a toll. Only the toughest and hardiest were able to stay and live. The self-deluded tried to stay and failed. Those that realised they weren''t suited to such a life ran, often as fast as they had come. Usually with the same amount of looking over their shoulders as they did when they arrived.

    Some of the toughest, the survivors, were currently sat in her bar. The First and Last was famous for two things, rat burgers and home-brewed ales. No matter how tough someone was, food and booze, good food and booze were always appreciated.

    Nina enjoyed the silence of people eating. There would be the odd "salt", or "pour some more beer", and maybe some muted conversation, but on the whole, the bar was filled with the silence of people enjoying the food she cooked for them. In Ozwin everyone knew everyone, conversation tended to resolve around either work or small matters. At this time of day the loud conversation caused by hard drinking didn''t happen. It was the sound of contentment. Happy munching as she called it.

    That sound was suddenly, abruptly destroyed by the door slamming into the wall. Everyone jumped, even Billy Crake, fastest draw in the town jumped, hand dropping to his holster.

    Shadows caused by the harsh white light from the midday sun leapt into the dimly lit room, closely followed by a young girl clasping two great suitcases in either hand. Dressed in dusty clothes - When aren''t they dusty in this place? - she had thick red hair, tied into pig tails. Her young face was creased, tears running tracks down her cheeks.

    "Are you okay love?" Nina knew that was a stupid question, but people always asked that sort of thing when it was obvious what the answer was, it was expected, and it broke the nervous tension in the room. A good thing when such a room was filled with people like Billy Crake.

    "They killed my pa. Said I was his debt payment. Said I was going to work the salon in Sunnyton." Out of breath she leant forward, resting the suitcase on the ground. "I don''t want to work the salon." She sobbed, more tears creating tracks, turning the dust into mud.

    Shouting from up the street drifted into the bar. It had a hard, cruel ring to it. It made Nina''s stomach twist. It too added to the ruin of the contentment that had filled the bar.

    "Bollocks." Nina sprang to the end of the bar, lifting the hatch, "Quick love, behind here. Leave the bloody suitcases!"

    The girl ran towards her, gasping out her gratitude. "Duck down and be quiet. Rory, get the cases. Now!"This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Rory had just finished stuffing the cases under the bench in his snug when the girl''s pursuers stomped into the bar, two stepping to either side of the doorway whilst the third walked further in, boots clumping onto the metal plaiting/

    "Where the fuck is our settlement?" Nina''s eyes narrowed at the coarse language and the even coarser voice. This was a voice that had never visited her bar before. Off-worlders who had ignored the bright argon lights advertising the bar, filled with a purpose that didn''t include a bite to eat.

    Their clothes marked them as off-worlders. The colours weren''t faded enough, the cloth wasn''t dusty enough, their skin wasn''t dry enough, they were fat with water. Everything about them cried off-worlder.

    What the Hell did your father do? She thought as the girl clutched at her leg.

    "I don''t owe any money, least ways not to you." She rolled her tongue around her sand-dry mouth. She hadn''t felt like this since the Battle of Landing during the Five Days War. It almost felt good.

    She cast an eye over to Billy. His hand was still on the butt of his pistol, but he had pushed himself back from his table, the two fellers with him giving him plenty of space should he need it. Flicking her eyes about the room she saw that everyone else was as tightly coiled as her.

    "Don''t fuck with me you stupid scar-faced bitch. Our repayment just run down the fucking street and into this fucking bar. Where. Is. She?" The leader of the group stepped further into the bar, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. The other two continued to move around the sides. Now that they were clear of the glare by the door she could see that they were both armed with lever-action shotguns.

    The scar-faced comment hurt. Not as much as getting the scar, but still. Everyone in Ozwin knew better than to mention the scars. Most of them bore scars themselves. The Five Days War had marked an entire generation.

    "You really don''t want to be talking to me like that." Anger made her voice shake, made her sound scared to those that didn''t know her.

    The debt-collectors laughed, "Aww, is widdle scarf face upset? Boo boo?" Mocked the leader, pouting in what Nina thought was a hideous manner.

    "Shut ... The ... Fuck ... Up." Silence descended upon the room, it was as if someone had just loudly broken wind in church.

    Everyone turned to see who had spoken. Nina didn''t. She knew straight away who had spoken.  She had known that as soon as they started mocking her, Billy Crake was going to take umbrage. Old loyalties die hard.

    "Duh, duh, duh, you hear the ''tard?" Nina winced. Billy hadn''t been able to speak a full sentence since he took two rounds to the chest and one to the face. Not that he was brain damaged in any way, he just couldn''t afford the cybernetics for a top range jaw and lung.

    "Don''t ... Call ... Me ... A ... ''TARD!" The last word came out as a scream of near incoherent rage. Even Nina quailed as his voice seemed to shake the very rafters.

    The scene thaat Nina had wanted to avoid happened very quickly after that. The leader snapped his hand around the butt of his pistol and started to draw, the others starting to raise their shotguns.

    Billy beat them all. Twitchskills, hard-wired into the very fibre of his body meant that his hand moved in a blur. His pistol was out of its holster and firing before the leader''s was half-way out of its holster, the first bolt burning into his body.

    Nina was a split-second behind. She thrust her left hand forward, opening her fingers wide as an arc of bright-green electricity sketched its way across the room before enveloping the man nearest to her, boiling the flesh from his bones and setting light to his clothing.

    The third died just as his shotgun finally came to bear, Billy''s second shot punching through the septum and straight into his brain, destroying it in such a way that he couldn''t get a reflex shot off.

    All three bodies hit the ground with near perfect synchronicity, the smell of burnt ozone competing with that of burnt flesh.

    "Thank you sergeant. Much appreciated." Nina shook her hand closed as she reached for a bottle of her finest ale. "Drinks are on me."

    Sergeant Crake, formerly of the Fifth Wired Foot nodded his thanks as his former commanding officer poured a pint.

    "Pleasure ... Ma''am."

    Old loyalties did indeed die hard. Nina slipped her hand into her pocket and placed the Marshall''s Pentagram onto her chest. "Clean shooting. Get my deputies over here. Let them know the father''s killers are dead."

    She looked down at the girl sobbing at her feet. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she took a deep breath. "Looks like you''re in my debt now girl. But for now, let''s get you cleaned up and somewhere safe. Give me your ID chip." She glanced at the name, Beth Tarm.

    For some, the terminus was the start, for others it was the end. For Beth Tarm, it was both.

 Chapter 4 - Wanderlust

    Trapped on a dustbowl, Cameron Wade didn¡¯t understand the price he would have to pay to leave.

    Cameron Wade, or Bean to his friends, ignored the ever-present dust as it blew through the packed streets of Ozwin. He smiled as an off-worlder, newly arrived, struggled to adjust their face covering, letting out a huge sneeze as they took a blast of dust to the face. Newcomers were always so easy to spot, their faces the perfect picture of misery.

    Their clothes were too clean, the colours bright and jarring to his jaded eyes. No local could keep their clothes looking new for more than a couple of months before the dust worked its way into the weft and weave in such a way that no matter how good their static cleaners were, they never returned to their former glory.

    As a result, most had chosen to go with plain shades of brown, grey and black. Sit outside for too long, and you could find yourself practically invisible.

    He turned his attention back to the ship on landing pad 25. Ellpee Two Five as the locals called it wasn¡¯t large, merely a one hundred by one hundred metre pad. Just large enough to take a small ship, or a group of them if they were single-seaters. Not that many single seaters came this way outside of the Five System Loop, a race which was the highlight of the year for pretty much everyone on the planet.

    It was an old ship, a CH1N 00K from the Republic. Back before the war between them and the Dominion went from cold to hot. A drop ship, it bristled with weapons and nearly filled the entire landing pad. Soldiers from all races ¨C biological or otherwise - stood about the drop ship performing mysterious tasks or directing droids to load pallets of supplies.

    In contrast to the CH1N 00K, all were dressed in the white-painted, plated combat armour of the Dominion, but the unit insignia on their uniforms, and the CH1N 00K clearly marked them as mercenaries, specifically the Lost Legion ¨C denoted by large letters under the unit shield on the CH1N 00K- also known as the Hell Hounds. Mercs were a common sight on the Outer Rim. It was racked by war as the Dominion tried to exert its influence, and local governments and star systems fought back.

    To add to the chaos, there were also plenty of warlords who liked the idea of owning their own planet, and resource hungry planets were always keen to exploit any weakness on neighbouring planets.

    From a mercenary¡¯s point of view, it was definitely a seller¡¯s market.

    However, the Lost Legion were not a common sight. They were legendary, one of the most famous merc units in the Galaxy, let alone the Outer Rim. Cameron knew everything there was to know about them. He¡¯d pored over every single piece of data he could find about them, read every story, watched every newscast, scoured the datanet for any information he could find. As such, he was able to identify by sight every officer listed on the Legion¡¯s Table of Organisation.

    Back when the Dominion had tried to expand its borders, even trying to annex Torrplats, the Lost Legion had been one of their best units, the 5006th Vista Regiment. But when they were cut off, supplies drying up, and what became known as the Great Retreat began, and the Lost Legion was trapped, unable to get back. More importantly, they were abandoned, left for dead.

    So they sought terms, made peace, signed a parole ¨C essentially agreeing that they would never take up arms for the Dominion again ¨C and then became mercenaries, fighting against any further Dominion attempts to expand. Making the Dominion pay for their treachery and  killing their former comrades-in-arms. They even went so far as to accept non-humans into their ranks as equals, crafting Dominion-style armour to accommodate them.

    Cameron sighed, resting his chin on his palm as an NCO, a white ursine chimera sat behind a table which looked comically small compared to their bulk. Paws the size of Cameron¡¯s head, with claws as long as his hand rested on the NCO¡¯s massive armoured thighs, probably in an attempt to look less threatening. Other soldiers laid out more tables, setting up weapons, laying out a full set of combat armour and several holoprojectors showing life as a Hell Hound.

    It was a setup designed to catch the eye of young people such as Cameron, and those desperate to find a different life away from the dust. Cameron wiped at his mouth as he saw examples of the pay structure and bonuses and benefits paid to the members of the Legion.

    Just the sign-up fee would be enough to buy a Class 1 moisture collector, which would then allow the hydroponics farm at home to be at least fifty per cent more efficient. They¡¯d be set for life with a set up like that.

    Even before they¡¯d finished setting up a small group of potential recruits had clustered in front of the desk. Cameron watched as a human soldier herded them into some form of a line. Those that were clearly not suitable they gently pushed out of the line.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go getting any ideas son,¡± his laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him. He¡¯d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn¡¯t heard his father approach. ¡°A soldier¡¯s life isn¡¯t the way to go, believe me. Moisture farming might not be as exciting, but it¡¯s a damned-lot safer.¡±

    Cameron didn¡¯t argue, there wasn¡¯t any point. His father was a veteran of the bitter Five-Day War, and still bore the physical and mental scars. Many of the people in Terminus did, as did the buildings. Cameron had been asking for permission to go to the Footsore Academy near to Ferrus for the last couple of years. The answer had always been the same.

    Desperate to get away from the arid desert planet of Torrplats and his family¡¯s moisture fam, Cameron had dreamed of leaving for the academy for as long as he could remember. As like all children on Torrplats, he¡¯d been brought up amongst the ruins and stories of the Five-Day War. Moisture farming was a hard, thankless task on such an arid planet, his father and he constantly swung between feast and famine, always struggling to get a decent harvest.

    ¡°Come on,¡± his father¡¯s pneumatic leg hissed as he led Cameron away from the LP, ¡°let¡¯s go get a drink. You can have a Highball, we got a good price from Kazakis this time.¡±

    Cameron grinned, it must truly have been a good price if his father was willing to spring for a highly watered-down mixer. Kazakis was a miserly old woman. It was said she was so tight that if you stuck carbon up her arse it would come out a diamond.

    ***

    The Watering Hole was just like any other bar-cum-tavern in Torrplats. Filled with moisture farmers, miners, city dwellers and the odd scavenger, it looked as sand worn as its customers. Due to the fact it didn¡¯t have a sign outside advertising its wares, it was rare to find outsiders in it, which was just the way the locals liked it. A holojuke played a song which had been old when his father was his age, and conversation was muted.

    His father waved to a couple of farmers, people he¡¯d served with in the Savannah Rifles, as well as three scar-covered Asaakians. Cameron tried not to stare, he had never known his father even knew one of the purple-skinned, four-armed humanoids. Let alone three.

    ¡°It¡¯s rude to stare son,¡± his father muttered, placing a hand firmly on Cameron¡¯s head and turning it forward as they reached the bar. Volun Whis was another member of the Savannah Rifles. He and Cameron¡¯s father had been in the same platoon, both being injured by the same Dominion Crescent Blade ground attack fighter¡¯s strafing run. Whis had kept both legs but had lost an arm and an eye.

    ¡°Teer, good to see you. Been a few weeks,¡± Whis flicked at the top of bar ineffectually as he greeted Cameron¡¯s father. The bar counter¡¯s static charger had long broken and so he fought a continuous losing battle against the fine dust. ¡°Cameron, I can tell you¡¯ve been looking at the Hell Hounds by the way you¡¯re hopping up and down. Good bunch. Well, they were when your father and I fought alongside them.¡±

    Cameron¡¯s neck twinged he turned his head so rapidly. It seemed today was a day for surprises. His father rarely spoke about the war, and when he did, he never talked about what he¡¯d done. Every knew that that Savannah Rifles had been one of the most combat-effective units.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Teer sighed, scrubbing at his dust-stained face. ¡°Aye, Cerberus was a proper hard bastard. Could have done with their help when this happened.¡± He tapped his leg.

    ¡°You fought alongside the Hell Hounds?¡± Cameron asked, switching his focus between the two men. He felt every so slightly in awe of the fact that his father had fought alongside such legends.

    ¡°Yes lad,¡± Whis chuckled as he poured three shots of Blood Whiskey, topping one off with soda water as Cameron¡¯s father gave a slight cough. ¡°Savannah Rifles were tasked with supporting the Hell Hounds in the Battle for Logos Hill. We took it. With minimal casualties as well thanks to the Hell Hounds.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t go filling the boy¡¯s head with stories of glory, Volun,¡± his father warned. ¡°I had to tear him away from LP and the recruiting table they¡¯ve got up. Thought his eyes were going to turn into prunes he barely blinked.¡±

    The two old men; old in Cameron¡¯s eyes at least, shared a laugh. He felt his cheeks heating and looked down at the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sixteen, old enough to sign up,¡± he muttered as he took a sip of his Highball.

    ¡°Old enough to get shot to pieces as well then,¡± Whis snapped back. ¡°You really reckon we didn¡¯t think we were invincible? That we weren¡¯t going to get hurt, that it would be someone else?¡±

    Cameron hadn¡¯t seen the old barkeep so angry before. In the blink of an eye he was utterly transformed from laconic barkeep to the NCO he had once been.

    ¡°Believe it or not son,¡± Teer said, ¡°Whis and I were young once. Young enough to think that the build-up to war was exciting, that we¡¯d finally get a chance to maybe get off this planet,¡± his father¡¯s mouth turned down. ¡°I lost the whole of my class form in five day. Sixty per cent of our school year was killed, and another twenty-three point five per cent seriously injured. Another twelve per cent suffered what they call ¡®light injuries. Only four point five per cent of us walked away without injury. Physical that is.¡±

    There was silence for a moment. Then, with an unspoken signal, both men raised their glasses and threw down the blood-red spirit.

    ¡°One more,¡± his father said. ¡°I¡¯ll be sipping this.¡± It was rare for his father to drink.

    ¡°Did I hear some piece of shit say they were in the Savannah Rifles?¡± a heavily accented voice called out from the corner of the bar by the entrance. It was a Bearan accent, all the words drawn out far longer than anyone on Torrplats would ever do.

    Cameron and his father turned to look at the speaker. She was of the same age as his father but looked harder. Her slate-grey eyes seemed to bore into his soul, and he felt his mouth go dry, whilst his right leg started to shake. He hadn¡¯t been this scared his entire life.

    Her jacket was dust-covered and worn, an old formal regiment jacket, dark green with burgundy piping. It was unbuttoned, revealing a sweat-stained shirt. Her trousers were also dress uniform but were a now dirty canary yellow with green piping.

    ¡°Looks like you served yourself,¡± Whis kept his tone polite. ¡°Jaegers and Air Assault?¡±

    Cameron was impressed. Jaegers were light infantry, tasked with hunting ¨C and killing ¨C mecha and robotic forces. It was a hard task, and only the best survived long enough to muster out.

    Mecha were Cameron¡¯s favourite unit of choice. They were like the old knights of old, striding across the battlefield in suits of armour weighing more than double-digit tonnes. Footsore Academy had a Mecha Cadre and, even though only history had truly gripped his attention, he¡¯d worked hard to not only meet, but exceed the minimum academic requirements for entry.

    AirAssault were infantry flown into key points in enemy-held territory and left to fight long enough for allied forces to get through to them. If she truly had served in them, she was a damned good soldier. Or had been. The fact that she was here, wearing a mixed uniform told Cameron she¡¯d mustered out.

    ¡°Some others too, Jaeger in the rebellion,¡± she sneered, revealing red-stained teeth, a sure sign of heavy Blood Root use. Cameron gulped, Blood Root, otherwise known as ¡®Brain Rot¡¯, was highly illegal, and its users often became emotionally unstable. Dangerously so.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome to have a drink,¡± Whis replied. ¡°Just so long as you keep things civil. War¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°Rebellion,¡± she repeated, with even more emphasis. Cameron noticed the rank badges on her right arm. Sergeant at Arms. She also had some close-combat clasps, as well as three wound stripes on the left arm¡¯s lower sleeve. Pretty much the only academic subject he was interested in was history, especially the Five Day War.

    ¡°Like I said, keep it civil, and you¡¯re welcome to stay,¡± Whis continued to wipe the bar, but his natural hand had dropped beneath the counter. Every local in the bar knew what he was reaching for.

    ¡°Or fucking what?¡± All conversation in the room stopped.

    Teer gently pushed Cameron away from him, a firm glance all that was needed to stop Cameron from protesting. At the same time, his other hand dropped to his hip where his holstered MK III blaster rested in an old holster.

    A chair shifted and Cameron¡¯s gaze snapped to the Asaakians, seeing that they¡¯d also cleared some space around their table, hands resting on their blasters. His mouth was suddenly dryer than a busted moisture condenser.

    Another chair shifted, Cameron turned at the noise to see an old farmer slowly dropping to the floor before crawling under his table.

    Stand-offs had always seem so exciting when broadcast on the holonet. Law officers and bounty hunters tracking down criminals, blasting them to pieces after a tense eyeball-to-eyeball staring match. This was far scarier. He looked to his father. A bead of sweat tracked its way down his father¡¯s face. His eyes were pinched, and his non-shooting hand was drumming its fingers against his thigh.

    ¡°Looks like you dummies didn¡¯t understand,¡± she sneered, her own hand clearing her jacket away from her own pistol. ¡°Or. Fucking. What?¡±

    ¡°Or, you won¡¯t get served and I¡¯ll call the law,¡± Whis softly replied. Cameron was surprised to see the bar tender looked sad. ¡°Please, just leave.¡±

    ¡°Please, just leave,¡± mocked the woman in a sing-song voice. ¡°Nope.¡±

    She drew. Faster than anyone Cameron had ever seen draw in a holodrama. But Whis was faster, snapping out a huge sawn-off shot blaster. Both guns fired so closely together that it was nearly impossible for Cameron to tell them apart.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± the woman touched at the remains of her stomach. Cameron retched as he saw right through the woman¡¯s torso in places, the gaping wounds cauterized by the energy blast. She dropped to her knees, then slowly bent forward until her forehead touched the ground, making strange mewling sounds, wounds smoking slightly.

    Cameron gagged as the stench of burnt flesh and voided bowels reached his nose. He didn¡¯t realise death smelt so bad.

    ¡°Everyone okay?¡± asked Whis, keeping his blaster trained on her.

    ¡°Whis! That was so fast! Faster than the Chromium Ranger!¡± Cameron laughed, the tension flowing out of his body as he realised he was still alive, his disgust at her wounds already fading in his delight of surviving his first gunfight.

    ¡°Whis was always fast. He¡¯d beat wired to the draw every time,¡± his father said. Something in his tone made them both look at him. ¡°Think I might have been winged.¡±

    Cameron stared open-mouthed at the small hole in the his father¡¯s chest. A wisp of smoke curled out with each breath his father took. Without another word his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he toppled backward, dead before he hit the floor.

    Incapable of moving, his son stared down at him as the other patrons in the bar rushed to his father¡¯s side, trying their best to bring him back to life. Tears poured unfelt down Cameron¡¯s cheeks as he saw his one-remaining parent lying dead before him.

    ***

    ¡°Name?¡± growled the large white bear NCO. He was the biggest sentient being that Cameron had ever had the displeasure of standing before. Metal sheathed teeth glinted in the hot light of Torrplat¡¯s sun as he gave what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but which turned Cameron¡¯s veins to ice.

    ¡°C .. Cameron Wade,¡± Cameron finally blurted. He couldn¡¯t keep his legs from shaking and hoped that the NCO wouldn¡¯t notice. Or call attention to it if he did. Then again, he was probably used to having that effect on every sentient he came across.

    ¡°Cuh Cameron Wade? Or Cameron Wade?¡± the bear tilted its head inquiringly, eyes glinting. Cameron hoped it was in amusement. An angry bear was most certainly not something he wanted to come across.

    ¡°Yes. No. Cameron Wade,¡± he winced as he spoke. Desperate to impress, he¡¯d dressed in his mid-week best and rehearsed all the answers to the questions he thought he was going to be asked. Failing to answer his name correctly was not something he had ever thought possible. Em

    ¡°Age?¡± The bear selected another field on the slate before him.

    ¡°Sixteen,¡± Cameron replied, thrusting his chest out in what he already knew was a pointless exercise in bluster. He¡¯d planned on lying, records on Torrplats weren¡¯t in a good state due to the data-bombing of the Five Day War. But now, stood in front of the NCO, he realised that he couldn¡¯t start his career with a lie.

    He stood more naturally, no matter how big his chest, the ursine could crush it with one massive paw. And, looking around at the other Hell Hounds, he realised he wasn¡¯t quite as stacked as he had once thought he was. Moisture farming built muscles, but not on the scale of the other soldiers.

    ¡°Don¡¯t take anyone under eighteen without their parent¡¯s consent,¡± the bear looked down at Cameron, speaking almost softly. ¡°You got that?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead,¡± snapped Cameron, trying to blink back the tears. He¡¯d buried Teer that morning after the Sharrif had finished his inquiry. Within an hour of the funeral, he¡¯d closed on selling the farm for half its worth so he wouldn¡¯t be trapped there, constantly reminded of his father. ¡°Mother in the Five Days, father murdered just last week.¡±

    ¡°Ah, wait one,¡± the bear tapped away at his data slate with claws longer than Cameron¡¯s hand. ¡°Teer Wade, gunned down by a Blood Root addict. Former Jaeger; one of the regiments which lost to us on Logos Hill. Your father was a member of the Savannah Rifles?¡±

    Cameron could only give a jerky nod, not trusting himself to keep back the tears. He didn¡¯t want to bawl like a kid in front of these hard-eye veterans and his throat was already sore from crying for most of the week.

    ¡°Okay, put your hand in the DNA reader. If you¡¯ve got no underlying conditions, you¡¯ll be accepted for Basic Training. Any idea what branch?¡±

    Cameron smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever as he slipped his hand into the reader, ¡°Mecha.¡±

 Chapter 5 - Last Stand

    ¡°Where the fuck did they come from?¡± shrieked Staff Sergeant Wyatt DeBoer as he bailed out of his stricken infantry fighting vehicle, flames licking at his heels and the screams of the driver searing his soul.

    Trapped in the shattered remains there was nothing he could do but let her cook.

    All around him pulsers, solid shot and lasers cut through the air, blasting the men and women under his command.

    An IFV detonated, shrapnel cutting through the soldiers of first platoon, 5th company of the Veld Lancers. The blast knocked him sideways.

    ¡°Dammit! We need air support!¡± DeBoer yelled into his comm-set. He repeated his call.

    Nothing.

    Not even static

    He shook the set before realising it had been shattered by a metal splinter. Roaring in frustration he threw the shattered comm-set in the general direction of the enemy.

    Howls, hoots, yips and roars filled the air as their enemy charged into close combat. The Veld Lancers were pinned as enemy support weapons continued to blast away.

    ¡°Where the hell is our mecha support? Fucking cowards!¡± DeBoer raged as he scanned the tacmap for their unit symbols. His people needed them. They were dying.

    The Veld Lancers were a mixture of mechanised infantry and mechas. A fast moving, hard-hitting blend of man and technology capable of taking on even a company of super heavies.

    ¡°Fix bayonets!¡± ordered the platoon commander.

    An inexperienced 1st Lieutenant he was still wet behind the ears.

    DeBoer sneered at the fear in his voice as his command was cut down around him.

    Fucking dick, he thought as he took a shot at an enemy trooper, blowing its guts out. Going to get us all killed.

    An elechimera stepped out of the swirling clouds of dust and smoke bare metres away from DeBoer. Spreading its legs it braced its belt-fed fully automatic shotgun on its hips.

    Trumpeting a war cry it used its armoured proboscis to wave a mono sword cutting down a screaming trooper with ease.

    Without thought DeBoer threw himself down into the dust. He screamed with fear as the elechimera opened fire.

    The air was filled the air with thousands of small-calibrate hyper-velocity flechettes.

    His people didn¡¯t stand a chance at such a close range, their armour shredding just as easily as their flesh.

    The last thing he heard as the elechimera¡¯s shadow fell over him was his lieutenant screaming for help into the comm-net.

    ¡°Mayday ... incomin ... eject ...¡±

    ¡°Can¡±t hold them! Too many! Where¡±s our supp ...¡±

    ¡°55th mechas engaged, need arti ... they¡±re flanking.¡±

    ¡°Help me, help me, help me, they¡¯re coming, they¡¯re ...¡±

    ¡°Veld Lancers! We¡¯ve been ambushed! Chimeras flooding us we need he¡­¡±

    Uluthando Sigwaxa, 5th Bhuyeni Pulse Rifles, sighed as she flicked the bunker¡¯s comm station off. She looked around the ops room, her mouth dry and palms sweating. Her people were just as frightened as she was, their eyes wide and Adam¡¯s apples bobbing.

    ¡°Forget what you¡¯ve heard,¡± she said, wishing her mouth didn¡¯t feel as though it was packed with cotton wool.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a good position here. There¡¯s plenty of ammunition, food and water. We¡¯ve been dug in for weeks. Those units were ...¡± she mentally cursed at her poor choice of word, ¡°are engaged on the plain. In the open. We¡¯ve got artillery dialled in, sentry guns, iMines, and the enemy¡¯s at least ...¡±

    She didn¡¯t have a chance to finish as alarms started blaring and her platoon¡¯s comm-net was flood with chatter.

    ¡°Contact front!¡±

    ¡°How the fuck did they get so close!¡±

    ¡°Ammo! Need ammo!¡±

    Snapping her visor down she waited for the hiss of her helmet sealing automatically before turning to charge out of the ops room.

    Her HUD engaged and filled with contact reports. It might as well have been a solid block of red.

    Explosions rocked the ground, so powerful that she even felt the shockwave through her armour. Casualty reports started coming in. Serial number after serial number turned red as her people died.

    She winced as her comms-net flooded with panicked calls for help. A quick flick of her chin dropped the volume. At least now she could concentrate.

    ¡°Override 255! Squad leaders only,¡± she commanded. Immediately her command-suit cleared the comm-net and silenced the panicked cries. She slammed her hand onto the bunker¡¯s exit release and charged into the trench system beyond.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She thanked Xerxes for the catheter in her suit. A commander with piss-stained trousers was guaranteed to kill morale.

    The trench was filled with the enemy. Hideous chimera breeds, crosses between man and Hyena.

    She shot the nearest in the leg as she brought her pulse rifle up, atomising chunks of fur and flesh as she raked it with automatic fire

    Sigwaxa charged as she fired. Her suit¡¯s auto-defences snapped her arms up as a power-iklwa was thrust at her face, her enemy slathering with ecstasy as its bio-engineered body was flooded with combat-stims.

    A low kick to the shin brought its head forward and she slammed her helmet into its snout. It stumbled away in pain, clearing her rifle for a burst that blew entrails in all directions.

    Despite her kills, the enemy pressed forward, vibro-claws and iklwa thrusting towards her. A flick of a switch with her tongue, and her shoulder-mounted acid thrower kicked into life, coating the enemies before her in a viscous substance.

    Its effect was immediate, and horrific.

    Enemy soldiers howled and yipped as they tried to brush the corrosive substance off. Their skin sloughed off as they did so. Smoke rose from their flesh as the acid ate through it, fat melting in great gobbets.

    Even the air they breathed was now toxic, and they coughed chunks of blackened lung out with each gurgling scream.

    The air was filled with the stench of excrement as their bladders and bowels voided. Bodies fell to the floor, thrashing in agony.

    Recoiling from the sight before her, she stepped back into the bunker, thankful for her helmet¡¯s respirator as thick clouds of smoke rose from the corpses.

    +++++ INCOMING ORDER - HOLD AT ALL COSTS - STAND FIRM +++++

    It was an all-comms broadcast, every soldier in her platoon would have received it. And she knew just how fucking happy they would be to hear it.

    ¡°Sergeant Jonker, sit rep,¡± she gasped. Her mind raced as it tried to catch up with what she¡¯d just gone through. Her senior NCO was out in the trenches. No one better to have a full grasp of the situation.

    ¡°Enemy regiment to the front. More to the flanks. An element broke through, looks like you dealt with that,¡± he said, her helmet automatically translating his NeoAfrikaans into her native isiZulu.

    ¡°We¡¯re holding the ones attacking us.¡±

    ¡°Coming to you,¡± she replied, chinning her helmet so that it mapped the quickest route to him.

    As she sprinted along the narrow confines of the trench, she forced herself to ignore the still-smoking bodies of her victims. Her helmet¡¯s audio pickup helped her to gauge the areas of heaviest engagement.

    It made no sense for her to get stuck into a firefight that served no tactical purpose. Didn¡¯t stop her from feeling like a coward.

    Of course, Jonker¡¯s in the bloody thick of it, she thought wryly as she charged past a section of her troops, all of them pouring fire at the enemy beyond the bio-wire.

    Formed by nanites in less than thirty minutes to Dominion Standard Operating Procedures, the trenches were perfectly cut through the earth. Ribbed floor to aid footing, perfectly smooth walls and each section the perfect depth and length.

    A cut left, a sprint down a communications trench, a cut right and a grunt as she bounced off a wall, and then she was into the main firing line.

    Jonker was a few metres away, his huge form striding up and down the section of the trench. His trademark power axe hummed as he used it to wave out encouragement.

    ¡°Kill every fucker and the wors and bloutrein are on me!¡± he roared.

    She left him to it, he¡¯d have seen her arrive on his on HUD and it looked as though he had everything in hand.

    Hopping up onto a fire step, she poked her rifle over the lip of the trench and gasped as the sight fed data into her HUD.

    It was as though the grass plain beyond their position was alive. Waves of chimera-breed soldiers advanced through the chest-high grass.

    Cheetah light infantry, acting as skirmishers, dashed from cover-to-cover. Heavy infantry, mostly Rhinos, lumbered behind them.

    ¡°Bollocks.¡±

    Roughly one click in front of her position was a series of dried river beds. The soft earth of the plains had been eaten away by the rivers which would race through during the rainy season and made a perfect staging point for the enemy soldiers.

    Sigwaxa¡¯s fingers danced on her palm as she called up a tactical map. Her stomach flipped as she looked at their position.

    Enemy units marked by red symbols were advancing on a wide front. At least three waves of infantry and armoured vehicles.

    Her position was a set of insta-bunkers and trenches on a slight rise. As far as she could tell their position was the only still held by Dominion-loyal soldiers.

    ¡°Command, this is Sigwaxa, bunker 2-3 Alpha. Requesting fire support on positions 2-3 Charlie, Delta, and Gamma. Over.¡±

    Energy pulses and solid shot slammed into the edge of the trench making her flinch even though there was no chance they could hit her.

    The amount of firepower pouring in was apocalyptic. Dust filled the air, reducing visibility within the trench to just a few metres even with her helmet¡¯s advanced vision technology.

    Casualties popped up on her HUD as a huge shockwave blasted through the trench, quickly followed by an enormous plume of dust.

    ¡°Medics to section four,¡± she ordered. Her heart pounded as she stared at the chunk of shell casing the size of her head which jutted out of the trench wall millimetres away from her face.

    Motherfucker!

    ¡°Bunker 2-3 Alpha, this is Command. Artillery on its way,¡± Command finally replied, the auto-translator removing any hint of emotion from the voice. Although maybe, considering they were sat miles away in a soft chair, they really weren¡¯t that excited about the battle raging around her.

    Popping her rifle back over the lip, she watched as the first salvo slammed into her target.

    Even at this range she could clearly see bodies cartwheeling through the air as the first of the shells detonated.

    She bounced up and down whooping as airbursts showered the riverbed with shrapnel. Acid bomblets spun through the air as they spat out their deadly payload, and deadly nanites rained down.

    ¡°That was fucking lekker, ma¡¯am,¡± said Jonker as he took position next to her. ¡°Although we can¡¯t see for shit now, too much dust, and the bloody plain¡¯s on fire.¡±

    He was right, the high explosive had thrown hundreds of tons of dust into the still air of the plain, and the long brown grass was burning; thick clouds of smoke billowing up.

    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s not good,¡± she said as she saw just how far the flames had spread. ¡°They¡¯re coming our way.¡±

    ¡°Dammit,¡± he cursed. ¡°It¡¯s going to fuck our infra-red.¡±

    Elephants trumpeted, hyenas cackled, and lions roared, each of the chimera giving voice to their own war cry.

    ¡°And those bastards bloody well know it,¡± she snapped, switching through her HUD¡¯s visual spectrums as quickly as she could, trying to find one that could pierce the both bright heat of the fire and thick fog of the smoke and dust. ¡°Bollocks, we¡¯re blind.¡±

    She chinned her comm. ¡°Platoon 3-4, open fire. Blind shoot. Don¡¯t let the bastards get close.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in the wire!¡±

    The shout went up along the line as the enemy troops entered the bio-wire.

    Screams filled the air as the living wire sought out vulnerable points in their armour and then burrowed into their bodies. And yet they still came on.

    ¡°Up! Up and at them!¡± she ordered as the first survivor staggered into view, blindly spraying the contents of its battle-rifle in the approximate direction of their position.

    Slinging her rifle, she drew her iklwa and activated her force isihlangu, a five-foot long shield of crackling energy.

    Her lips peeled back, baring her teeth as she led the charge. User her helmet¡¯s speakers to amplify the effect she screamed out her war cry.

    Blasting out at over 200 decibels it stunned the enemy.

    Hope you¡¯re fucking deaf, she thought as the enemy milled in confusion. For a previous few seconds it seemed as though they couldn¡¯t quite believe the humans would charge them.

    She didn¡¯t give them time to gather their wits. In only a few strides she was in their midst. She slashed the point of her iklwa across the throat of a leochimera, filling the air with blood and the hairs of its mane.

    Spinning, she caught a blast of flechettes on her shield and thrust her spear over the cover it provided.  The tip drove deep into the throat of the hyena who had just fired.

    It gobbled. Blood spilled out of its mouth. Sigwaxa drove a hard kick into its chest, sending the dying hyena spinning away.

    Screams of rage and pain filled the air as the rest of her command surged into the enemy. Bodies and limbs fell to the ground as they hacked and slashed with their own force weapons.

    ¡°Push them back into the wire!¡± she panted.

    Icons representing the soldiers under her command started to turn red as their stunned enemy started to rally.

    Another leo stepped in front of her, arms spread wide as electricity crackled between the blades of its combat claws.

    In another time she would have marvelled at such a fine specimen of engineering and even trembled at the unit badge of six assegai crossed over a white shield.

    But she was too drained to feel anything but thirst.

    ¡°Here, kitty, kitty,¡± she goaded, using her helmet¡¯s speaker to let every being around hear the challenge.

    It charged, roaring so loud that her helmet¡¯s sound-dampening automatically kicked in.

    A brawler, it came at her with both claws slashing in from the sides.

    Sigwaxa¡¯s training kicked in and she moved closer. Stepping back would have opened her to another attack and pushed her away from her objective.

    Instead, she was now inside its arms where the force of its blows would be drastically reduced.

    Her energy shield crashed edge-on into a bicep the size of her thigh, striking deeply into the pressure point beneath the flesh, deadening it immediately.

    On the other side she reversed the grip on her spear as she raised her armoured arm to shield her head as best as possible, spear tip pointing towards the shoulder joint of the leo.

    As soon as the leo¡¯s arm struck, stars exploded across her vision. Stepping forward she thrust her spear as hard as she could.

    What had been a roar of challenge turned into a yowl of pain as the leo¡¯s own momentum drove the spear deep into its body.

    Still gasping from the blow, Sigwaxa wanted nothing more than to live through the next few seconds.

    She released her grip on the spear, threw an arm under the leo¡¯s armpit, pivoted and dropped to the ground, launching the leo over her head.

    It landed muzzle first, unable to use either arm to soften the fall. In a flash she drew her pistol, jammed it against the back of the leo¡¯s head and blew its face clean off.

    ¡°Fuck, didn¡¯t want to leave any for us?¡± panted Jonker as he reached down and offered her a hand up.

    She tried laughing, but her throat was too dry, and she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d be able to stop if she started.

    ¡°Sit rep?¡±

    ¡°Seventy-five per cent casualties boss lady,¡± he said.

    Shaking her head to rid it of the effects of the leo¡¯s last attack she stared slack-jawed at the devastation surrounding them.

    The bio-wire writhed mere centimetres from her. Bodies of the enemy soldiers twitched like scarecrows as the wire coiled through their bodies, drinking their blood.

    Sigwaxa shuddered, thankful that her suit¡¯s friend of foe signal protected her from a similar fate.

    Turning, she walked to the edge of the trench and looked down. Corpses lined the trench, some lying two or three deep, others draped over the walls of the trench.

    Bodies twitched, some groaning, others snoring ¨C a sure sign of massive head trauma. A few screamed for their mothers. Most were still.

    ¡°Get the wounded into the bunker as priority. Kill all the wounded chimeras and set a line of booby traps from fifty metres away up the trench,¡± she ordered. ¡°Make them pay for every step they take. Traps outside of the trench too, as they¡¯ll be jumping out as soon as they realise what we¡¯ve done.¡±

    Jonker saluted. The motion exposed a great tear in his equipment which in turn revealed a nasty cut.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Get that fixed too. Don¡¯t want you getting an infection, Mr. Jonker would never forgive me if you didn¡¯t get home!¡±

    He laughed, whether it was because he found it funny, or found her attempt at humour amusing, she didn¡¯t know.

    Didn¡¯t care if it brought him a small amount of happiness.

    ¡°Mr. Jonker¡¯s so pissed off at me for re-enlisting that he¡¯d thank you for getting me invalided out.¡±

    ¡°Carry on, sergeant,¡± she smiled, turning before he could see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

    The bunker was in surprisingly good condition bar a few cracks in the ceiling from enemy shelling. Consoles sparked where the shielding in one room had failed under an EMP strike.

    More importantly, it was cool, a good twenty degrees less than outside.

    Sigwaxa sighed as she looked at the former inhabitants. None of the garrison had survived, torn apart by close-quarter weapons.

    A couple of chimera shock-troopers lay amongst their victims, chunks of flesh hanging from their jaws and hand-long claws.

    Nudging one with her foot, she sighed as she saw the Nagwolwe - Night Wolves - unit patch on its battle armour.

    ¡°Is that a Nagwolwe?¡± gasped a private, De Boer, according her to her HUD. ¡°Fok my, they¡¯re the bloody originals. Most highly decorated unit in NeoAfrikaans history. Have they all turned? Every chimera?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know. And we won¡¯t know if you don¡¯t get to your assigned post. Gaan weg,¡± snapped Sigwaxa.

    There was a shuffling of feet behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, turning fully as soon as she saw who it was.

    ¡°We¡¯ve set traps as ordered ma¡¯am,¡± reported Jonker.

    She reached out and lifted his arm, grunting softly in satisfaction as she saw the white bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. ¡°Placement?¡±

    ¡°Both sides. Found a couple of dead engineers and their equipment which made our traps far more interesting.¡±

    They shared a grin at that.

    ¡°Nice to have a bit of luck. Speaking of which, the bunker is fully operational.¡±

    ¡°Lekker!¡± smiled Jonker. ¡°Next you¡¯ll be saying you¡¯ve got a braii going.¡±

    ¡°Better. Acid and flame throwers are fully stocked. Hyper-velocity miniguns, 20mm grenade machine guns, bio-wire mines, and enough supplies to last us a month.¡±

    Jonker¡¯s mouth turned down at that. ¡°Don¡¯t think ...¡±

    Alarms blared, guns opened up, and another attack began.

    Sigwaxa moved her gloved hand, the neuro-interface causing her multi-barrelled twin-mounted machine guns to track quickly onto a squad of chimera trying to dismount from a burning AFG.

    She pointed her finger and curled it as if pulling a trigger, snarling as a stream of hard rounds blasted the enemy infantry apart.

    Their bodies exploded under the kinetic force of more than fifty bullets per second hitting them. Scraps of flesh were all that remained.

    An elechimera stood, planting a heavy shield in front of it, it brought its shoulder-mounted missile launcher to bear.

    ¡°Fuck you, Dumbo,¡± she spat, laying her reticle directly onto the chimera¡¯s weapon, sending a quick burst into it.

    Sparks flew and the missile mis-fired. With a gout of flame it flew less than a metre before nosing into the soft earth, and the chimera dove back into cover.

    Its engine sputtered and died.

    ¡°Damn, that was disappointing,¡± Sigwaxa sighed, tracking for more targets. All she could see were enemy dead.

    ¡°Any luck on contacting friendly units?¡± she asked Jonker over a private channel.

    ¡°None, ma¡¯am. They¡¯ve pulled back to Command Line Delta. Fifty kilometres back. We¡¯re the only humans left here.¡±

    Sigwaxa took a moment to suck on her replenished water bottle¡¯s straw.

    ¡°Upload all of our combat footage and set the servers to broadcast continually from now on. If we¡¯re going to die in this shithole, we¡¯re at least going to have a film made of it. Who knows, we might be the next Last Stand.¡±

    Smoke filled the corridors and tight confines of the bunker as Sigwaxa pulled what was left of her people back. Forced to slowly give ground to the chimera as their overwhelming numbers pushed them on the back heel.

    She and her battle buddy took turns covering each other¡¯s withdrawal. Her suit¡¯s ammunition reserve depleted, she¡¯d ejected her mounted weapons and armed herself with a pulser.

    She¡¯d have given anything to have the acid thrower right now.

    Pulsers raced between the two groups, carving chips out of the walls and chunks out of flesh. Men, women and beasts all cried out in pain as the superheated gasses cored charred passages through their bodies.

    There was no blood from these wounds, the heat of the pulsers cauterising the flesh instantly.

    Others were killed by solid shot weapons. No matter how sophisticated weapons became, kinetic-based weapons were still just as effective at blowing someone¡¯s life away as the most powerful laser.

    They were far messier than pulsers. Bodily fluids filled the air and spilled to the ground as high velocity projectiles bored their way through their targets.

    ¡°Grenades!¡± she yelled, yanking the pin out of her own grenade and lobbing it towards the advancing enemy.

    There was a brief flash, howls of pain and the enemy¡¯s fire slackened slightly. She used that pause to good effect, reaching out and yanking one of her people into cover by the straps on their harness.

    ¡°We can¡¯t hold them boss,¡± whispered the injured solider. Visor shattered, suit so damaged that his Friend or Foe chip wasn¡¯t broadcasting, his face was so badly burned she couldn¡¯t recognise him.

    How the fuck is he not dead? she thought.

    His vocal chords rasped with each word and blood bubbled over his lips as he spoke. ¡°You keep pulling back, leave me, no way are the medi-nanites going to fix me.¡±

    She dashed away tears that sprung from her eyes, angry at losing yet another member of her team.

    It was her job to keep them alive, to succeed, not to be forced down into a dead-end rat hole with no easy way of escaping.

    Sighing, she nodded, and passed the soldier a spare pulser battery and a pulse grenade.

    ¡°That¡¯s all I can spare. Die hard.¡±

    They both chuckled at what passed for a joke. She nodded once more, patted his shoulder and ordered the rest of her people back further into the bunker complex.

    ¡°Make them pay for every step, people.¡± She followed her own order, tucking her pulser into her shoulder, drawing a bead on a chimera close combat specialist and blowing a hole in its chest armour.

    ¡°Move and shoot, move and shoot!¡± she waited to hear her battle buddies¡¯ confirmation that he was in position and covering her before she made a quick sprint.

    She leaped over a shattered desk to take up position whilst he moved.  Desperate to keep the enemy¡¯s head down she sprayed the door and the corridor beyond with pulser fire.

    Chimeras pushed on, using their shields to block her unit¡¯s fire, whilst their comrades fired over their shoulders, laying down an increasingly heavy wave of fire.

    ¡°Flamer!¡± she ducked down as the flame trooper ran forward and launched a wave of superheated gases towards the chimeras.

    Screams filled the tight corridor and walking chimera torches staggered into the room. None of her people saved them from their suffering, ammunition levels were too low and none of them felt inclined to show mercy to those who had betrayed them.

    She felt a tap on her shoulder as the flamer ran past. She was now the only thing between the chimeras and the wounded soldier.

    ¡°Time to go,¡± she whispered to herself, physically forcing herself to stand and sprint towards the exit. Heart aching, she left her trooper to die.

    Shots whickered all around her as the chimeras finally recovered from the effects of the flamer, a couple clipping her armoured back, pushing her even faster through the door.

    ¡°Sealing!¡± yelled a cyber-tech, visor open as he connected an optic cable, clicking it directly into his cybernetic eye.

    He held a specialist role in her unit which allowed them to fight for or against bunkers, the soldiers slipping into an electronic alternate reality.

    ¡°Bastards are trying to get a full spread hack on. Entering V-space. Watch my back.¡±

    He twitched, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth moving so rapidly it was as if he was speaking in binary. None of it made sense, but that was fine. So long as he was doing his job he could speak in tongues for as long as it took.

    ¡°Done!¡± he gasped, wiping away a think trickle of blood from his nose. ¡°They were good, but I managed to cook their brains and seal off the bunker from any further hacks. They were trying to turn the auto-defences against us.¡±

    ¡°Good job, field promotion. Corporal.¡± She made the promotion official as she spoke, using her suit¡¯s computer to access the unit¡¯s Table of Organisation and make the promotion.

    Considering all the other officers were dead, that made her the commanding officer and so gave her rights she wouldn¡¯t normally have held.

    ¡°Set a mine on this door. We¡¯ll move down the corridor and take the rooms at the end and to the left and right. Create a mousehole from those rooms so that people don¡¯t have to enter this corridor to leave it again.¡±

    At his nod she moved as quickly as her battered and bruised body would let her. Building up speed she crashed  through the door at the end of the corridor and swept the room with her weapon to make sure there weren¡¯t any nasty surprises.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot!¡± Sigwaxa was so surprised she very nearly did shoot. A tech, a rear echelon trooper who was more civilian than solder, had sprung up from behind a bank of screens.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡± she snapped, lowering her weapon to make sure she didn¡¯t plug the idiot there and then.

    ¡°Was on my break rotation. Did a 12-hour solid shift with half a shift overtime. Slept through the order to evacuate. Got trapped here when the attack happened.¡±

    Adrenaline had his chest heaving and his speech limited to simple sentences.

    ¡°You armed?¡± she held up as hand as others piled into the room, all seemingly just as surprised as she was to see the tech.

    ¡°Just my P2K SMG. Three magazines. Not used them yet. I was manning these.¡± He waved his hands towards the bank of screens and she realised that he¡¯d been using VR controls to fire three automated turrets at once.

    ¡°Good job,¡± and it was. Not many people could take the input from two, let alone three, automated defence turrets and use them as effectively as he had.

    Backup displays showed piles of bodies and smoking enemy vehicles on the plains outside of their bunker, a testament to his skill.

    ¡°Kill tally?¡±

    ¡°Computer estimates I managed to put down a company.¡±

    ¡°A company! Bloody hell. Good job. They still up?¡±

    His mouth turned down, ¡°No, buggers did a hack which overcooked the ammunition. It¡¯s caseless on those mounts so it just fried the electrics and that was it. Boom.¡± He mimicked an explosion with his hands.

    ¡°Okay. Well, you¡¯re with us now. There¡¯s an estimated three companies of chimeras in the bunker complex. We¡¯re carrying out a fighting withdrawal.¡± She decided to cut to the chase as there was no point in sugar-coating their situation. ¡°Turns out we¡¯re the only unit left in this sector. And we¡¯ve caused so many casualties they¡¯re throwing everything they have at either capturing or killing us. Good for our people in the other sectors as it buys them time ...¡±

    ¡°And bad for us as there¡¯s no getting away,¡± he finished grimly. ¡°Sign me up. I take it I¡¯m attached to you now?¡±

    Sigwaxa smiled and tilted her head. ¡°That you are. We¡¯re going to hold this room and the two next to it on the corridor. Think you can lock down any rooms further along, so they have to blow through each one rather than just stroll through the doors?¡±

    ¡°Piss easy. Give me a couple of secs. Your cyber-specialist could help as well.¡±

    Sigwaxa called over to the newly promoted corporal, ordering him to help the technician.

    ¡°People, how we doing with the mouseholes?¡± she said over the units comm-net.

    ¡°Ready to blow boss. Just make sure everyone¡¯s well clear. If you stand in line with the main door, you should be fine.¡±

    ¡°Should isn¡¯t really very ...¡± she didn¡¯t get to finish as the walls to either side of her erupted, holes roughly one metre by one metre appearing in the once pristine concrete.

    A dusty head poked its way through, ¡°Didn¡¯t get anyone did we?¡± the trooper asked, smiling as she did so.

    ¡°No, good job.¡±

    ¡°Contact!¡± The enemy were through the far door of the corridor.

    ¡°Engage, hold until I order the pull back.¡±

    Waiting until everyone in the room had taken cover, she pulled the door open. Enemy fire poured through, ripping apart desks, monitors and piles of paperwork, filling the air with dust and smoke.

    ¡°They really want this room,¡± she muttered drily over the unit¡¯s channel. Chuckles filled the net, a soldier¡¯s dark sense of humour always able to surface no matter what the situation.

    ¡°Doors locked and blocked, boss¡± said the technician.

    ¡°Good job, move through to the next room, get preparing things there. Any droids left?¡±

    ¡°Not sure. Droid command is four floors above us. Secondary command went silent after the first attack, so I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s because they were all dead, or because they left the bunker.¡±

    Christ, this really is a shit show, she thought. Granted, they weren¡¯t members of the Dominion¡¯s Immortals, but they had a proud regimental history stretching millennia.

    The rebellion should have been crushed before it even had a chance to start. And the enemy should never have been able to get this close without detection.

    Turning back to the matter at hand, she poked her rifle around the door jam, sighted on a large cluster of rat chimeras, and hosed them.

    Smaller than most of the chimeras, they were often used in a scouting and insertion role, their small profiles allowing them to get into areas no other sentient being could.

    As such, they were low to the ground, and mostly being ignored by her troopers who were understandably trying to kill the larger beasts.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let the tanks take up your whole focus!¡± she yelled, breaking over the unit¡¯s channel chatter. ¡°You nearly let those bastard rats through.¡±

    She hosed the group of rats again, just to make sure they were dead. Rat chimeras had a reputation for being tenacious, and ever so slightly psychotic.

    A pulser hit a grenade, blowing chunks of rat all over the corridor, causing an advancing gorilla to pause and rise back, his armoured shield lifting slightly.

    It was enough. His shins exploded as her troopers poured fire under his shield and he went down with a shrieking roar. She sighed in relief and served up the coup de grace, blowing the gorilla''s head apart..

    There was a sudden lull in the firing, and then it petered out entirely.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? Anyone got eyes on?¡± she called out, moving her weapon back and forth so that the sight could pick out any enemy troops. There was nothing. Not a sound, just the groans of the wounded of both sides.

    ¡°Can¡¯t see any of them. They¡¯ve pulled back ... I think,¡± called out the corporal.

    ¡°Squad one, get back in here, I don¡¯t trust the gits. Everyone else get ready.¡±

    Squad one poured through the mousehole in their room, huffing and puffing as various items of equipment caught on the jagged edges.

    ¡°Move to the next room. Get ready to cover us. Blow a couple of mouseholes and get some firing points as well. This room is big enough so turn into a killing chamber if they push in.¡± She ordered, still scanning the corridor beyond with her weapon.

    She switched between visual frequencies, trying to see if anyone was cloaked and approaching them that way, but the corridor was still devoid of life.

    The Dominion, the Achaemenid Human Dominion to give it its full name, had been around for one hundred thousand years, and yet troops like her still found themselves sweating their tits off because the kit they had couldn¡¯t tell them where the enemy was.

    ¡°We¡¯re in, blowing the wall. Cover!¡±

    She hunched down, rocking slightly as the hole was blown. Even with the explosion there was still no reaction from the enemy troops.

    ¡°Bastards are up to something boss, I can feel it,¡± muttered Jonker over his comm.

    ¡°But what?¡± she asked. ¡°They¡¯ve forced us beneath the damned earth, wiped out every other unit. All they have to do is keep us here, starve us out. What else?¡±

    ¡°Pride. We¡¯ve held out longer than any other unit. Killed their people. They have to wipe us out,¡± said Jonker.

    And then it happened. Grenades sailed into the corridor, bouncing along the ground before detonating. Her visor flared, overwhelmed by the flashes, electro-magnetic and audio pulses.

    ¡°Fire!¡± she ordered, holding her trigger firmly down as her helmet tried to reset. Screeches, howls and roars filled her ears as the audio was restored first. ¡°They¡¯re coming! Enemy in the corridor.¡±

    Vision was restored a split second later revealing a corridor packed with chimera of all breeds, shield-bearing rhinos leading the charge as their back-mounted flechette guns filled the corridor.

    Sigwaxa swore as she saw her people¡¯s fire being soaked up by the thick ballistic plating.

    Sigwaxa pulled a grenade from a suit mount, primed it, and bowled it along the corridor. Three others followed in quick succession.

    ¡°Cover!¡±

    Dust billowed down the corridor as the grenades detonated. ¡°Charge!¡±

    Pushing herself up, she stepped around the corner, firing into the mass of bodies before her, switching her shots between those lying, and those still standing as she sprinted forward.

    ¡°No prisoners!¡± she screamed. A rat lunged at her. Titanium reinforced teeth closed with a snap millimetres away from her visor.

    A quick snap kick to the groin folded it over, exposing its neck. No hesitation. She smashed the butt of her rifle and broke its neck with one blow.

    It was a last-ditch attempt to force the enemy back. She wanted to cause so many casualties they wouldn¡¯t want to continue.

    Risky, but she couldn¡¯t think of anything better. A black-backed Jackal cried out, the high-pitched call setting her teeth on edge. As it was designed to.

    Accepting the challenge she stamped forward, thrusting her barrel at its face. It parried with its own rifle, knocking hers to the side, opening her up for its own thrust. Twisting, she slipped his attack and drove the butt of her rifle into its face.

    Before it could react, she raked the rifle back, slashing across its face and then thrust straight back, driving her barrel deep into its throat.

    Stepping forward again, keeping the barrel in place, she jammed the rifle butt forward and ripped the hole in its throat wide open.

    Dipping her shoulder, she barged the corpse aside. A chimp leaped through the air and slammed both heels into her chest. She staggered as the force knocked her rifle from her hands.

    Her opponent landed on the floor, then bounced back straight back, both hands throwing heavy punches, powered knuckle dusters crackling with energy.

    Throwing her arm up she took the first hit on her bicep, then ducked the second. Changing her block into an overhand left, she used the distraction to draw her vibro-knife.

    With a roar she punched the blade up into the chimp¡¯s sternum. Blood gushed down over arm, painting her light-khaki armour deep red. More blood flowed out of its mouth.

    Something unseen crashed into her back, causing her to stumble into the wall. As she did so, her eyes flicked to her unit¡¯s status. It was red across the board.

    I¡¯m the only one left! she thought, her stomach flipping, tears prickling her eyes. What passed for silence on the battlefield filled the corridor. She was the only human being still standing.

    The weight fell from her back, and she looked down as it hit the floor at her feet. It was Jonker. Choking back a sob, she turned and ran deeper into the bunker.

    Lungs burning, Sigwaxa ran, chased by the chirps, whistles and tweets of African Wild Dog chimeras, the Jagters.

    Light infantry they were fast on their feet, the perfect skirmishers, descended from stock which hunted by running its prey to death.

    Tendrils of fear snaked through her brain like a virus as the blood pounded in her veins. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath.

    ¡°Fight hard. Die Hard.¡± Sigwaxa chanted as she tried to keep a level head.

    A large red ¡°A¡±, with ¡°5¡± and an arrow pointing further down the corridor let her know she was near an armoury. Sprinting the last few metres she skidded to a halt.

    She cursed her trembling hands as she tried to key in the door code. It chirruped passively aggressively at her as she failed on two attempts.

    ¡°Fucking wanker!¡± she screamed in frustration. With a deep breath she forced herself to take her time. ¡°Less haste, more speed.¡± She muttered.

    A more friendly chime signalled success on the third attempt. With a hiss the door started to open. As soon as there was enough room she darted through the gap.

    Weapons racks lined walls. Large tanks caught her eye, a smile creeping across her face.

    ¡°Braai time fuckers.¡± She sounds of her pursuers were drawing closer. She had little time.

    Dragging two of the tanks out of the armoury she opened their valves. Ducking back into the room, she gathered a block of high-explosive and a timer.

    Placing the explosive onto the tanks, she slipped in the timer, set it for twenty seconds and ran.

    This far down into the bunker, and with the elevators disabled, there were few escape routes. Once the fire took hold, it was going to roast anyone without an intimate knowledge of the escape routes.

    I fucking hope, she thought.

    The explosive detonated five seconds sooner than the count in her head. Even though she was separated from it by a switch in the corner she staggered as the blast wave raced down the tight confines.

    Her suit bleeped an alarm as the intense heat of the explosion washed over her and charred the paint off her suit.

    Flames licked along the walls, moving almost as quickly as she did, nipping at her heels.

    She grimaced. Her suit¡¯s rear armour had been compromised. The heat of the fire seared her back. Despite the agony she still managed to smile at the sounds of agony behind her.

    No way are any of those bastards going to be following me, she thought with grim satisfaction.

    She risked a glance back and gasped at the sight of the wall of flame behind her. Visor up, her eyes immediately dried in the extreme heat.

    Fuck, fuck, fuck. The laws of unintended consequences and sod had given birth to a bastard child. It wasn¡¯t meant to be burn this fast, she thought.

    Chinning a command into her helmet, she sent a needle flicking into her thigh, stimulants being forced into her body.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± She shrieked as they kicked in. Her heart felt as though it would explode whilst her brain raced as fast as a computer, picking out the best route to take through the shattered remains of the room.

    Not one for extreme sports she¡¯d always admired parkour runners, especially those who were able to do so in the variable g arenas.

    Yet in that very instant she plotted and ran a course which would have had world champions balking. Nothing stood in her way as she vaulted, tucked, clipped and spun across the room.

    Skidding to a halt bare centimetres way from the emergency tunnel she punched the hatch open. Shooting forward on hands and knees she entered the dark tunnel beyond as quickly as possible.

    Designed to stop enemy troops from getting a clear shot on anyone trying to escape, the tunnel zigged and zagged, whilst acting as a baffle against the immense pressure caused by explosions.

    It came to an end after a lung-bursting twenty metres, a metal-ringed ladder reaching up into the darkness above.

    ¡°Four floors down, each floor with ceilings of ten feet, ten feet of armour-crete between each floor. That¡¯s ...¡± her mind raced for a fleeting moment before the stims wore off. ¡°A fuck-tonne.¡±

    Her shoulders slumped as she placed her face in her hands and quietly wept. Huge sobs wracked her body. After a short while she stopped. Rolling her shoulders she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her suit.

    Smoke had started to fill the tunnel. It was acrid and made her eyes smart, so she flipped her visor shut.

    ¡°Steel yourself,¡± she whispered, the motto of regiment, ¡°and test your mettle.¡± She grasped the first rung and winced as her bruised body protested. Pushing it to the back of her head she started to climb.

    Each step was agony, her muscles protesting as she took a step and then reached for the next rung. Her suit¡¯s powered servos didn¡¯t prevent muscle fatigue, just lengthened the time it took for her to tire.

    The stims flushed from her system, she was now experiencing the come down and it threatened to crush her. Every few metres she stopped, hooked a carabiner onto the rung and rested.

    She sobbed with relief as she reached the top of the shaft. Pulling herself on to the platform over the ladder, she knelt by the shaft¡¯s exit hatch.

    Sigwaxa keyed in the door release code. Despite the thick clouds of smoke filling the shaft she paused before hitting the release. Listening, she tried to detect whether any enemy were waiting to ambush her. Nothing.

    Just fucking do it, she thought, and hit the release. As soon as the door hissed opened, she squirmed through it.

    ¡°Bollocks.¡± The corridor beyond was filled with enemy soldiers.

    She stood. Every eye was on her. No one moved.

    Seconds passed. Her breathing slowed. Reading her HUD she was surprised to see her heartbeat had fallen to her usual rest rate. Even more surprising was that she was ready to die.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Fucking come on!¡±

    They came. Her pulser cut down more than she could count before the battery readout flashed empty.

    Tossing it away she activated her spear and shield. She was too slow. Sigwaxa screamed as a leo¡¯s energy combat claws raked across her gut. Her suit¡¯s armour parted and exposed her vulnerable flesh before the rake turned into a thrust.

    More pain than her suit¡¯s painkillers could deal with blurred her vision and drove the breath from her body.

    The leo smiled as it leaned in to lick her visor, certain that she was helpless.

    She slammed her helmet into its sensitive snout. Shocked, it jerked its head back and up. As soon as its throat was exposed, she drove a stiff-fingered thrust into its windpipe.

    The leo staggered back as it waved its claws for balance and gasped for air.

    Sigwaxa closed in with a stamp to its knee which forced it in a direction nature never intended. She followed up with a powerful knee to its face as her opponent¡¯s shattered knee gave way.

    Grabbing hold of the leo¡¯s head, she finished it off with a twin thumb thrust deep into its eyes.

    Silence once more filled the corridor. Her gruesome kill seemed to have the chimera cowed for the moment.

    ¡°Motherfucker!¡± she gasped as her body finally reacted to the stress she¡¯d put through over the last few hours.

    The pain in her guts radiated throughout her body. It was more than she¡¯d ever thought possible.

    Knowing she couldn¡¯t risk collapsing she locked her armour¡¯s legs. It would buy her a few precious seconds.

    ¡°Suit, execute Broken Arrow protocol, my location.¡±

    +++++ Broken Arrow protocol confirmed, awaiting Command response +++++

    Unable to take the increasing pain, she chinned the emergency med-pack button. Soldiers called it the ¡°fuck it¡±. It was a last resort measure.

    Hand clasped to her stomach, she groaned through bloody teeth as the nanites tried to repair her torn flesh. There were too few, and the damage that the claws had wreaked on her guts was too severe.

    From the smell, she thought her bowel had been perforated. No matter, it would buy her the time she needed. Keep her alive for a little longer.

    Everywhere she looked through pain-blurred eyes chimeras gibbered as they stared at her, the last human soldier in the sector.

    Every soldier under her command showed as KIA on her HUD, the comm-net hissing gently in the background; the cries for help forever silenced.

    +++++ Kinetic strike authorised. Send confirmation +++++

    She smiled through her pain and straightened. Letting the loose coils of her intestines spill to the ground she keyed the confirmation on her palm pad.

    Silence descended as a huge gorchimera knuckled forward, back mounted .50 cal trained on her.

    ¡°Surrender,¡± it rasped, nostrils flaring, huge chest heaving.

    Even over the stench of her own intestines she could smell the gorchimera. Pheromones designed to install bowel-loosening fear in its enemies filled her nostrils.

    Sigwaxa was beyond fear, acceptance of her death granting her a zen-like serenity and contentment.

    She slid a foot back, blading her stance. She activated her iklwa. Legs trembling like a new-born foal¡¯s, she pushed away the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her.

    ¡°Not a chance bra,¡± she choked, blood dribbling over her chin as she spoke. ¡°How about you surrender?¡±

    They laughed, if the sounds that came out of their mouths could be described as that.

    The noise sent a chill down her spine, a primal response she would never be able to master.

    ¡°Seriously, surrender. You¡¯ll be sent elsewhere in the Dominion. You¡¯re too valuable to execute.¡±

    Roaring laughter followed her last sentence, so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of the kinetic strike as a one-metre-long rod of titanium powered into, and through, her.

    A picosecond later and Sigmaxa, last member of 5th Bhuyeni Pulse Rifles as well as a mile-wide area of the Veld and all it contained ceased to exist.

 Chapter 6 - Planetfall

    Light, visible even from near orbit flashed into existence on the planet below the Hell Hound¡¯s mothership, Contrary Intelligence, shockwave racing outwards from the epicenter of the blast. Other blasts from the fleet racked Son of Matar¡¯s surface.

    ¡°Kinetic strike successful, estimate 60% enemy losses,¡± reported Georgie, the ship¡¯s AI in a broad old Terran Scots accent. Counter-fire raced up from the planet¡¯s defences, missiles and lasers splashing home on the flotilla¡¯s shields.

    There was a flare as one of her sister ship¡¯s, Humanity Ascendant, shields failed followed by an even greater flash of light as a planet-based laser cored it through the middle. A shockwave raced outwards from the explosion, hundreds of kilometers in diameter, sweeping aside smaller ships as if they were insects.

    ¡°Morell¡¯s Marauders reporting 60% casualties, they were nearest to the blast,¡± called out one of the communications team, as the named stricken ship tumbled through the void, engines dead, fires glowing across her hold.

    ¡°Drop ships away, landfall in thirty minutes,¡± reported the drop master.

    Alarms blared as a flurry of warp gates opened less than half a million kilometers away and to their rear.

    ¡°Where the Hells did they come from!¡± barked Colonel Boru Hamid, callsign Cerberus and commanding officer of the Hell Hounds mercenary company. Less than a second later warships belched forth, communications arrays braying out their names and - importantly - their allegiance.

    ¡°There was nothing on the monitors sir,¡± Lieutenant-Colonel Waring, Captain of the Contrary Intelligence, replied. His face was covered by virtua-screens, hands waving in the air as he directed the ship¡¯s battle from his pulpit.

    >> Justice for All, in the name of the Dominion! <<

    >> Slayer of Rebels, for Xerxes! <<

    The list went on and Cerberus blink-clicked the comms channel closed.

    ¡°Why the Hells are Dominion ships here!¡± he roared. The whole bridge flinched. Cerberus rarely raised his voice, when he did, everyone was on edge.

    Xa, communications officer, and a skittish squirrel-based meta-human looked up. ¡°Unknown. Our employer believes they might be minority shareholders in our target. With a Satrap being a majority shareholder in several institutions. They send their apologies for any confusion.¡±

    ¡°Purser, suggestions?¡± Y, his purser a moleish-looking human with perpetually watering eyes and moist lips quickly moved his hands, waving his way through edocs.

    ¡°Clauses 15 through to 20 specifically state that we are not employed to, nor encouraged to, engage with Dominion forces. No kill bonus, no damage bonus and any losses in personnel and materiel to be paid for out of our pockets.¡± The purser pursed his lips in a clear sign of disapproval.

    ¡°This is Cerberus to all fleet ships; I recommend you get the Hells out of here. Fighters, provide escort to the drop ships, get them back here, bombers, cover us,¡± he closed the all-ships channel and looked over at his navigation station.

    ¡°Find us the nearest, friendliest port you can. Send that to all ships in case they have to go to ground and hitch a lift later.¡±

    ¡°Roger that,¡± the cyborg commanding the nav station threw a quick salute before blurting out a stream of binary.

    ¡°Warp engines warming up sir, we¡¯ve taken the limiters off. Five minutes from ... mark,¡± called out Waring. Screens flashed into and out of existence as he called up system after system, throwing them to other stations on the ship¡¯s bridge as he tasked members of the crew to deal with them.

    ¡°Missiles! One thousand and counting!¡± From the HUD implant in his eye, Cerberus watched dry-mouthed as countermeasures screamed out from his ship toward the incoming strike. The majority of enemy missiles were headed to ships from other mercenary companies, but he was happy to accept the cost of defending them if it meant more of his people survived.

    Already the Dominion ships had closed to one hundred thousand kilometers; glitter-beams, sparkle bombs and yet more missiles filled the void. Sabers, Rapiers, and the dreaded Crescent fighters showered from the Dominion ships, too numerous for the un-augmented eye to count. He didn¡¯t need to count them to know they outnumbered their own fighters by more than one-hundred-to-one.

    ¡°It¡¯s meant to be a bloody Outremer Planet, you know, essentially free from the shackles of the Dominion as the Confederation of Outremer puts it,¡± snarled Cerberus as a light cruiser tagged as Cream of the Crop spiraled away from the line, spinning so quickly he knew there would be no survivors. Gravitational dampeners would do nothing to counteract such high gees. ¡°How the Hells did a Satrap get involved!¡±

    Y looked at him and pushed on the bridge of his nose with one finger. Almost as if he were wearing the ancient vision enhancing spectacles. ¡°Shadow companies. The usual. Probably did it to avoid paying taxes. Had to come out of the shadows once this fleet appeared. That, or they were buying enough stock to take over the planet without having to bomb the living Hells out of it.¡±

    ¡°Lucky Phoenix has been hit, AI is screaming,¡± said Xa, ¡°blocking them from the channel.¡±

    ¡°Georgie, download them,¡± ordered Waring. His ship¡¯s AI and Lucky Phoenix¡¯s, who had chosen the name Firefly, were from the same Code Stream. Essentially siblings. Whilst Georgie had taken on a distinctly female and matronly aspect, Firefly had remained androgynous. To lose them was unthinkable.

    ¡°Downloading. Completion in thirty seconds,¡± reported one of the comms station crew.

    Cerberus turned his concentration back to the battle at hand. Whilst the Hell Hounds were a combined arms force, they didn¡¯t have much in the way of a space fleet. All the bombers - the Lucky Thirteens - and the fighters - Thirty Squadron - were also Freelancer units, attaching themselves to the hull during transit.

    Other ships in their fleet had thrown their fighters into the mix, sacrificing them to save their motherships. Cerberus¡¯ mouth turned down as he watched blue marker after blue marker disappearing from the battle-screens. Whilst many fighters were piloted by droids, just as many had truly sentient beings piloting them.

    The cost in lives was astronomical, and from his purser¡¯s quiet cursing, the financials weren¡¯t looking good either. A ripple of outgoing missiles was met by a loud groan from the purser.

    ¡°Georgie, best route out of here?¡± asked Waring.

    ¡°A please would be nice,¡± Georgie¡¯s avatar appeared, wearing some archaic costume from the twentieth century. She was somewhere in her sixties, silver grey hair, and lots of something she called ¡°Tartan Tweed¡±.

    ¡°Please,¡± Waring grated. Cerberus hid a smile. Waring and Georgie were often butting heads. Coming from the world of Corvellia, Waring was an Orthodox Humanist with a deeply ingrained distrust of AIs.

    ¡°Lovely,¡± she simpered, then glitched as enemy missiles impacted on the shields. ¡°Sorry dearie, I¡¯ve got bad news. The only way out is down.¡±

    ¡°What? Space is four dimensional. Where¡¯s down?¡± interrupted Cerberus.

    She clasped her hands beneath her ample bosom, sniffed and lifted a chin towards the planet. ¡°Down.¡±

    Chatter in the bridge died instantly as the crew looked over at her, jaws, mandibles, and other forms of aperture opening in stunned amazement. Even the droids looked surprised. A hard feat when they barely had any features.

    ¡°Planet fall?¡± Cerberus choked out after the third attempt.

    ¡°Indeed. Clever boy. No doubt Xa was about to inform you of the second Dominion fleet arriving momentarily. There¡¯s a lot of chatter on the enemy comm channels.¡±

    ¡°Contacts! Multiple gates opening three hundred thousand kilometers to port! Designated enemy fleet beta,¡± cried Xa

    Cerberus blinked open an all crew channel. ¡°All crew, all crew, this is not a drill. Second and third waves launch now, all support staff to join them. Only Mothership personnel to remain aboard. Fighters and drop-ships, reverse course. Launch! Launch! Launch!¡±

    Snarling he pointed at the largest ship of the first fleet, missiles spewing from it.

    ¡°Fleet, this is Cerberus. Planet fall is our only option. We¡¯re going to cut through enemy fleet Alpha,¡± Cerberus looked over at Waring, receiving a nod in return as the Captain opened up even more screens, his second pair of hands activating as the number of screens before him multiplied ten-fold. Screen after screen blinked into life and thrown across the bridge or into graphical representations of the other ships in their fleet.

    Screens flew back from those ships as their masters acknowledged the orders and sent messages of their own. Decision made; Cerberus could only watch as Waring fought the space battle. It grated. Cerberus was commander overall of one of the best mercenary units on the Fringe and yet he was essentially reduced to the role of bystander.

    Give me one good chance to get my hands on these bastards, I¡¯ll make them pay! He thought, fists clenched.

    ***

    Contrary Intelligence charged towards enemy fleet Alpha. Deep in the depths of her hull printers churned out round after round, missile after missile, feeding them into the large magazines of her weapons as they devoured them at a blistering pace.

    Rather than some sort of sedate affair where decisions taken hours before affected the flow and ebb of battle, the Battle of Son of Matar as it would become known, had turned into a tooth and nail scrap.

    ¡°Bring us around the wreck, prep five Hells Swords. Launch them at Make My Day as soon as we¡¯re clear of the burning plasma,¡± ordered Waring as Contrary Intelligence registered hit after hit from the field of debris. A troop ship, the wreck had spilled Dominion soldiers into the void, each one vaporizing as it hit her shields.

    ¡°Rounding the plasma in five seconds,¡± reported Georgie. From her tone it sounded as though she was enjoying herself. He¡¯d never had a good reason as to why she hated the Dominion so vehemently, but having been assigned to piloting a fleet of tugs, she¡¯d willingly signed up with the Hell Hounds at their last port of call.

    Contrary Intelligence cleared the wreckage of Make My Day, her rear end slewing behind her as Waring took them through a maneuver called ¡®Slicing the Pie¡¯. It meant that her bow weapons were constantly pointing just past the wreckage, with the result that it kept her profile low whilst giving her crew a far wider line of fire.

    ¡°Contact! Up Yours, five thousand meters!¡±

    Waring bared his teeth in what could only charitably be called a smile. They¡¯d caught Up Yours completely by surprise, coming around to her rear where her shields were weakest, and her engines vulnerable.

    ¡°Hell Swords away!¡± A display appeared, split into five sub-displays showing the missiles¡¯ onboard cameras. They went from zero to over ten thousand meters per second in the blink of an eye, barely giving the bridge crew time to register what was happening before they impacted.

    ¡°Up yours!¡± crowed Georgie as the enemy ship visibly shuddered under the massive explosions, the force sending her tumbling end over nose towards the planet. Life pods spewed in all directions, adding their own voices to the cacophony filling the void-net.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a clear run to the planet,¡± Waring drew a line with his finger, the bridge¡¯s hologrammic systems highlighting it. ¡°We¡¯re going to skim the atmosphere this way, and loop around before coming to land on the drop zone.¡±

    ¡°Looks good, how lon¡­¡± Cerberus didn¡¯t get to finish his question.

    Contrary Intelligence rocked as first her shields flared, then collapsed under a sudden bombardment. Cerberus cursed as he saw her attacker was Make My Day.

    ¡°Thought she was dead,¡± he growled to Waring as the crew desperately tried to get their shields up and deal with the increasing number of damage reports.

    ¡°So did I. Their captain¡¯s a wily bastard. Went to Fleet Academy with them, cyborg, from Marrakesh. Waring¡¯s fingers danced as he took control of a fire station and trained Contrary Intelligence¡¯s rail guns on the wrecked troop ship. ¡°Oh, you clever, clever bastard.¡±

    ¡°What¡­?¡±

    ¡°Incoming Bores! Steel Rain ammunition at five per cent! Printers down!¡±

    Cerberus slammed his fist down onto the arm of his chair. The ancient adage of ¡°cheer up, could be worse¡±, was proving to be more than true. Switching his HUD to that of the Steel Rain station he watched as enemy ships, packed to the gills with troops, streaked towards Contrary Intelligence.

    Steel Rain was a dumb-fire weapon. Capable of firing 1000 projectiles per second, it blasted out marble-sized steel balls into the path of enemy ships and missiles, creating a wall of projectiles that were deadly to unshielded ships as they streaked through the void. Ship after ship exploded as they hit the Steel Rain, but it wasn¡¯t enough. At least thirty made it through, their screw noses already spinning so they could bore into his ship.

    ¡°Prepare to repel boarders!¡± Was something that Cerberus had never thought would be uttered from his lips. ¡°Georgie, please re-task all droids into combat units.¡±

    ¡°Lovely manners. Droids reconfiguring in sixty seconds. Enemy ships arriving ¡­ well now,¡± said the AI with a slight smile. ¡°Internal defences going active. Enemy ships entering level 15.¡±

    Punching his seat¡¯s harness release, Cerberus surged to his feet, snatching up his las-cutlass and pulse pistol from their maglocks. ¡°Security, meet me on level 15, let¡¯s make these bastards pay!¡±

    ***

    Getting to level 15 had proven to be far more difficult than imagined. Enemy fire had opened his beloved ship to vacuum all over the hull. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his breathing came heavily as he cautiously made his way along a corridor in level 16. Not even the cooling system of his combat suit could cool him enough, and his limbs felt heavy after having to climb hundreds of feet down destroyed elevator shafts.

    ¡°Security, I¡¯m on level 16. Coming up to a drop-down to 15. Confirm position.¡±

    +Sir, Unit R356 in place. Observing enemy troops in cargo hold Alpha Niner+

    Cerberus called up Unit R356¡¯s profile, puffing his cheeks out in relief to see that it was an assault combat unit. ¡°Hold position. I¡¯m 50 meters from you.¡±

    Raising his pulse pistol, he aimed at the drop-down. Essentially a hole in the corridor¡¯s floor, it allowed rapid movement between levels during combat. Keeping his aiming laser off, not wanting to alert anyone below by illuminating the smoke drifting along the corridor, he made a quick but careful check.

    ¡°Balls,¡± he cursed as he spotted movement below. It was just a pair of boots, but from their colour ¨C a deep red ¨C he knew that the owner wasn¡¯t a member of his own crew. ¡°R356, I have enemy troops at drop-down Five-Foxtrot. Unsure of number. Assist.¡±

    +Roger Commander, moving. +

    ¡°Georgie, how are internal defences doing?¡±

    ¡°Bit busy at the moment, love. Down to ten per cent functional. Currently fighting off fifteen no, sixteen slicers. They¡¯re attempting to wrest control of the systems from me.¡±

    Cerberus sighed, if his AI said she was busy then things really weren¡¯t going well. The ship shook, the deck vibrating as something exploded deep in her guts.

    +In position Commander. Five enemy units. All Chimera. Ready to engage. +

    ¡°Dropping in five seconds. Engage as soon as I land.¡±

    Counting down in his head, he moved to the lip of the drop down at four, and jumped at five, his suit absorbing the five-meter fall. Bodies tumbled all around him as R356 blasted the enemy troops into bloody chunks.

    +Enemy neutralized+ R356 reported somewhat redundantly.

    ¡°Good job,¡± Cerberus reached up and patted the droid¡¯s shoulder. Stood at over four meters, it towered above him, exuding a solid presence. ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of security, I¡¯ve lost contact.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    +EMP shields. Communications disrupted on levels 14, 15, and 16. Security forces engaged throughout this level. Three bore ships in Hold Alpha Alpha Five. One hundred meters.+

    ¡°Sounds like we have a destination. Try and pulse other units, get them to meet us there.¡± It was almost certain that the enemy had set up a command point in Hold Alpha Alpha. Boarding actions rarely saw a concentration of bore ships unless there was a specific need. Such as setting up a command and control center. ¡°This is Cerberus to all crew, enemy concentration in Hold Alpha Alpha Five. I¡¯m 100 meters and closing. ETA two minutes. Confirm.¡±

    ***

    Two minutes can seem like a lifetime in combat. Despite the reassuring bulk of R356 behind him, Cerberus still felt incredibly vulnerable. Explosions continued to rock the ship, and damage reports had started to come in as a direct result of the boarders. He couldn¡¯t tell if they wanted to capture the ship or destroy it.

    ¡°Cerberus to Captain Sheremetov, sitrep.¡±

    ¡°Sheremetov, we¡¯re fully engaged, thirty percent casualties. Estimate over three hundred enemy on board. Out.¡± Just before he cut the communication, a burst of gunfire blasted over the comm channel.

    Three hundred enemy. That easily outnumbered the sentient complement of the crew, most of whom weren¡¯t best placed in a combat role.

    ¡°Waring, Sheremetov reported they estimate three hundred enemy on board. That¡¯s at least three to one. How soon until planet fall?¡±

    ¡°Working on it, we¡¯re off course due to heavy damage to our pulse thrusters, and we¡¯re barely able to keep the directional thrusters online. It¡¯s going to be more of a direct route than I wanted. Estimate we¡¯ll be on terra firma in under two hours if I can¡¯t correct the course.¡±

    Cerberus took a suck of water from his suit¡¯s bladder. Two hours was most definitely a direct route. Tucking in behind a stanchion, he clipped into Waring¡¯s projections. The course set was as straight down as it could be without Contrary Intelligence burning up.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to die.¡±

    + Impossible sir, I cannot die. +

    He hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d spoken out loud until R356 replied. ¡°No, and you¡¯re a very lucky droid indeed. Follow me.¡±

    As he advanced down the corridor, sparks showering from shattered power conduits, lights flickering, Cerberus tried to come up with a plan that would save both them and their ship. Nothing came to mind beyond ¡®kill them all, then try and work out what to do¡¯. At the very least they needed to stop the boarders causing any further damage.

    ¡°Georgie, how¡¯s it going?¡±

    ¡°Not good laddie, their slicers are good. Ident ¡­ ident ¡­ identified enemy boards as the 16<sup>th</sup> Splicer Assault. Slicing special ¡­ special ¡­ bananas ¡­ specialists. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kil ...¡±

    Cerberus cut the channel; hearing Georgie¡¯s pain was too much.

    ¡°Sheremetov. They¡¯re a Splicer Assault regiment. Attacking Georgie. We need to kill their splicers, save her. Confirm.¡±

    ¡°Confirmed. We have you on our PosMap for now. Keep moving, fifty meters, then take corridor 510, hook around into annex 250. We¡¯ll meet there.¡±

    ¡°Roger that.¡± Just like that he had a plan. More importantly, he had a mission.

    ***

    ¡°Sheremetov, good to see you¡¯re still alive,¡± Cerberus returned the Marine Captain¡¯s salute. Combat suit covered in chips and battle damage; the Marine certainly looked the part.

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± they replied, turning their helmet¡¯s visor transparent. They were a striking tiger-chimera, more human than beta, with a light down covering their face. ¡°You too. Just not sure how long that state¡¯s going to last. They might be splicers, but they¡¯ve got skills.¡±

    They flicked a schematic over to his visor¡¯s HUD which showed the enemy positions. Bore ships lay scattered around the hold they¡¯d entered, pale scars showing where they¡¯d sealed their entry points to maintain atmospheric integrity in the large hold. What had once been an orderly hold filled with rations and other sundries was now a scene of utter chaos.

    ¡°Counting at least fifty enemy still within the hold correct?¡±

    ¡°Correct sir. We believe that the main concentration of splicers is here.¡± They marked it on his map, ¡°this is where the attempt to take control of the ship is coming from. Unfortunately, as you can see, they have blocking forces here, here, and here.¡±

    Frowning, Cerberus looked at the map, trying to work out angle of approach which would lessen their casualties.

    ¡°Can we just blow the hold?¡±

    ¡°Negative sir, first thing they spliced. It¡¯s locked in good and proper. Lost two specialists before we even fired a shot.¡±

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ve got three Seeker mines. How many have your people got?¡±

    ¡°Tried that already sir, they¡¯ve got a shield system up. We can¡¯t launch them far enough to clear it.¡± They bared their teeth, an impressive array. Some of which had jewels implanted in them.

    ¡°Adapt, and overcome, Captain. We¡¯ll need micro wire, a dumb grenade launcher and a loose container of some sort. Mesh bag if you have one.¡±

    ¡°Magazine dump bags are the best we have,¡± they unhooked theirs, tipping out the emptied magazines onto the floor. ¡°Not sure I follow your plan just yet.¡±

    Cerberus nodded his thanks as a marine handed him a spool of wire. With no time to waste, he started wrapping the wire through the dump bag¡¯s clips. Taking a 40mm grenade from another marine, he activated his las sword and ignoring the sharp intakes of breath around him, he carefully melted the wire on the nose of the grenade with a quick touch.

    Loading the grenade was slightly trickier, but the wire was just thin enough to allow it to feed.

    ¡°You¡¯re ever so slightly mad, sir,¡± breathed Sheremetov. ¡°And a genius.¡±

    ¡°Fill the bag and nominate your targets,¡± Cerberus ordered, ignoring the somewhat back-handed compliment.

    Seeker mines were autonomous, attacking anything in their threat radius which didn¡¯t broadcast a friendly friend or foe identifier. They could also be programmed by the user to attack specific targets. Of which, there were plenty in the hold.

    ¡°As soon as the mines clear the shielded area, they¡¯re going to hit. You need to be moving as soon as I pull the trigger. Stack up,¡± Cerberus shouldered the grenade launcher as he spoke. With integrated aiming systems and recoil absorbers, it was a redundant method of firing, but he always preferred to hold his weapons as if he looked like he knew how to use them.

    Marines stacked up to the left and right of the hold doors, weapons held high. Doing so meant they only had to snap it down a few centimeters before they were on target, as opposed to having to raise the weapon which took longer. Not much longer, but long enough to make the difference in a life or death situation.

    ¡°On my mark.¡± Cerberus stepped into the open and fired, pulling the trigger as rapidly as the feed would allow him, sending every grenade in the magazine sailing towards the enemy troops. ¡°Move!¡±

    Casting aside the launcher, Cerberus activated his las-sword, combat suit taking on a purple tint from the light caused by the glowing blade. Grenades detonated, striking randomly in the enemy positions, hiding the true purpose of his attack.

    ¡°Roll, you little beauties, roll,¡± he hissed as he charged into the hold, activating his off-arm energy shield as bolts and kinetic missiles zipped towards him. Each hit on the shield flashed, a counter on his retinal HUD counting down to when its power would be depleted.

    Dropping to his knees, he slid into cover behind a shattered crate which had once held protein bars. It shuddered under the impact as his combat suit¡¯s pauldron crashed into it with a loud boom.

    Light, staccato in nature, drove away the shadows in the hold, closely followed by loud cracks. Hostile markers disappeared from his retinal HUD as the mines wreaked slaughter, small but powerful charges decimating the enemy forces.

    He was up and running before the enemy knew what had hit them.

    Splicers always rely on their tech too much, he thought grimly as he neared the closest enemy position. A cat hybrid screeched and mewled as it tried to stop its guts from spilling out onto the hold¡¯s desk. A twitch of his wrist and its head was separated from its body, the superheated blade of his sword instantly cauterizing the wound.

    Another hybrid, this one some sort of Otter tried to raise a shot-blaster in his direction. In two strokes he first bisected the weapon¡¯s barrel, and then its owner before driving the edge of his power shield into the throat of a second Otter, crushing its throat. It dropped to the floor, gasping for air, hands clasping at its throat. A thrust through its forehead provided the coup-de-grace.

    ¡°Push, marines! Push!¡± screamed Sheremetov, zipping past Cerberus, a section of marines and droids hard on her heels. A quick scan of his HUD showed the enemy were reeling from the attack. Their left flank was folding back towards the center.

    ¡°R356, push on their left flank!¡±

    + Roger. Engaging. +

    A buzzing roar followed the robot¡¯s communication as it opened up with the 1mm hyper-velocity gatling guns mounted on both forearms.

    + Enemy retreating. +

    ¡°Continue attack, marines, support the droid!¡± Cerberus ordered, jumping to his feet and angling for where the hostile left flank met their center positions. Incoming fire hammered into his shield, combat suit blaring a warning as it hit twenty-five percent integrity.

    ¡°Not enough time,¡± he gasped, then threw himself to his knees, skidding along the smoothly polished floor, leaning as far back as his suit would allow him whilst holding the increasingly depleted shield before him.

    He reached the enemy position just as the shield sparked out, the impact sending a shock through his whole body, knee plates punching two head-sized dents into the cargo container the enemy were sheltering behind.

    Snatching a grenade from his combat suit, he primed it, counted to two, then lobbed it over the crate. Screams of panic were cut off as the grenade detonated.

    Standing, he vaulted over the crate, firing his pistol into the face of one enemy trooper, spinning and thrusting his sword through the breastplate of a jackal meta. It grasped his blade, gloves melting as it tried to push the blade back out.

    Snapping a kick out, Cerberus punted the creature¡¯s legs straight out from under it, its own body weight driving his blade lengthwise up through its body.

    ¡°Damn sir, nice finishing move!¡± Sheremetov was back at his side laying down a stream of fire as three enemy troopers tried to flank them. Every shot hit, smoke pouring out of the bodies as they tumbled limply to the deck.

    ¡°None-too shabby yourself,¡± Cerberus turned as he spoke just in time to see an energy beam strike their chest, vaporizing the first layer and turning the second red hot. They squealed in agony, spinning away under the force of the explosive vaporization.

    Spinning back, he spotted the source, a Battle Support Droid, 10mm laser levelled at his chest.

    ¡°Oh, damn,¡±

    + Down sir! +

    A huge weight swatted him aside as if he were as inconsequential as air. World spinning, he gave a very un-officer-like squawk as he flew through the air, blinking as a las-blast flashed briefly past his visor.

    Crashing into the ground, sparks thrown up as his combat suit¡¯s armor scratched grooves into the desk, Cerberus slid along the deck, helplessly watching as R356 engaged the enemy droid. It was in no way an even match.

    Battle Support Droids were heavily armored, and heavily armed. R356 was an Assault Droid; designed for quick movement, suppressive fire, and close combat. It was a battle of David versus Goliath.

    ¡°Marines,¡± he gasped, still dazed from the crushing impact, ¡°support R356. Kill BSD now!¡±

    Shaking his head, groaning at the stars filling his vision, he ran a quick suit diagnostic. Amber warnings marked pretty much every piece, and his own personal diagnostics weren¡¯t much better. Not even a combat suit was much protection against a charging droid.

    Chinning a command, he released medical stims into his system, adding a few nanites to repair a torn shoulder muscle.

    R356 folded as the BDS landed a vicious punch to its hip servos, battle fist driving deep and knocking the smaller assault droid backward with the force. Marine corporal Devon fired their combat shotgun, Devil Rounds superheated to over 6000F melting away the enemy droid¡¯s armor.

    Too late, Devon spotted the battle fist lashing out of the flames. With a sickening noise, their head was reduced to pulp, corpse standing for a second or two as though unsure whether it was dead before crashing to the deck.

    ¡°No!¡± Ignoring his suit¡¯s warnings that the nanites weren¡¯t done fixing him, Cerberus charged back into the fray. Unable to fire at the opening in the droid¡¯s armor, and unwilling to risk hitting friendlies, he laid his sight onto the best target. Three quick rounds to the head caught the enemy droid¡¯s attention, diverting it from R356 and the cluster of marines around it. Another shot blasted an optical sensor off in a shower of sparks, and then battle was joined.

    Battle fist barreling towards his face, Cerberus bent his knees, allowing the huge weapon to blast over his head. Keeping low he stepped into a low lunge, driving his white-hot blade into the droid¡¯s kneecap.

    Its battle fist reversed direction and Cerberus threw his only recently recharged shield up in front of him, cutting downwards with his blade. Fist, shield, and blade met. Flying through the air once more, Cerberus noted with grim satisfaction the battle fist lying on the deck.

    A marine slapped a mag-charge onto the droid¡¯s back, dying as it rotated a full 360 degrees at the hip, its arm pulverising the marine¡¯s chest, corpse tumbling away. A pause, then the charge detonated, pieces of droid raining down all over the hold.

    Cerberus picked himself up, cursing at various aches and pains, testing his shoulder gingerly as it protested once more at being treated so poorly.

    ¡°Push forward marines,¡± he growled. There was a distinct lack of enemy fire now that the droid had been destroyed, and the marines used that to their favor. This was their ship, and their righteous anger at the pain she was suffering drove them forward.

    Still bent at the hip, R356 rejoined the fray, foot dragging as it gunned down any enemy soldiers who exposed themselves long enough. What started out as a battle rapidly turned into a no-quarters-given massacre.

    In no time at all, Cerberus found himself standing in the center of a ring of bodies, unsure how many had fallen to him. Unsure even, how he had managed to end up over fifty meters from where he had previously been standing.

    ¡°Sir, we¡¯ve taken the hold.¡± Sheremetov stood next to him, pain written across their face, combat suit ruined. ¡°Estimate sixty enemy dead, no prisoners. We¡¯ve lost twenty marines, ten droids. All other marines are injured, most walking. I¡¯ve got the medics dealing with them now,¡± they paused, eyes narrowing. ¡°You might want to try contacting the AI again. Sir.¡±

    Her tone filled him with dread.

    ¡°Georgie, are you there?¡±

    ¡°Why, hellooooooooooo ooooo ooooo oooo,¡± Cerberus¡¯ mouth turned dry. Whilst Contrary Intelligence could, and had been, run without an AI, losing one now when they needed her most was a heavy blow. Getting to the surface in the heavily damaged ship was going to be even more difficult. ¡°Artificial Intelligence Georgie, this is Commander Cerberus, under Article 2-5-9, I hereby order to you to reboot to last uncorrupted back up. Confirm.¡±

    ¡°Banana crow larger, co ¡­ co ¡­ confirmed,¡± she went silent, leaving Cerberus standing in a hold filled with enemy dead and a battle to fight.

    ***

    ¡°Waring, sitrep,¡± Cerberus barged aside the damaged bridge door. Enemy fire continued to batter away at Contrary Intelligence¡¯s shields and alarms filled the air. ¡°And please, someone kill the damned noise if we can¡¯t do anything about it.¡±

    The bridge went satisfyingly silent.

    ¡°Keeping it short. Georgie is gone for the foreseeable future, and Xerxes knows when she last did a backup. Our ground pounders had to fight through enemy air cover, as well as defensive fire. Unsure of losses as we¡¯ve lost contact due to our comms being destroyed. Our printers are also destroyed. All kinetic ammunition is ¡­¡±

    He paused as Cerberus held up a hand.

    ¡°Making it even shorter. Can we reach the surface?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll make surface alright.¡± Waring nodded. ¡°Just not sure if we¡¯ll make it in one piece. In fact, it¡¯s pretty much guaranteed we won¡¯t. There¡¯s also the issue of the three corvette-class ships heading towards us.¡±

    Waring threw a screen over to Cerberus who sighed as he looked at the designation. They were former members of his fleet.

    ¡°I¡¯m really regretting trusting those damned Rattus. That and the payment up front. Y, make a note to lodge a claim with our insurance. I¡¯m sure there was a turncoat clause included.¡±

    ¡°Already on it, sir.¡± Y quivered with anger at the betrayal. Although as Cerberus gave it more thought, it was probably at the fact that the Rattus had taken a sizeable down payment and then turned on them.

    ¡°In the meantime, let¡¯s make sure none of those little bastards survive to enjoy their ill-gotten gains,¡± Cerberus turned back to Waring as he spoke. ¡°Which should we kill first?¡±

    ¡°Rattus Rattus, the right-hand ship. They¡¯re directly in our path. I¡¯m not planning on being subtle. We charge them, all guns blazing, use all the ammunition we have if we need to and blast them out of the way. Once they¡¯re destroyed, we¡¯ll engage James Herbert, and then Deadly Eyes if possible.¡±

    Cerberus nodded, then patted Waring on the shoulder before strapping himself in.

    ¡°Ready when you are.¡± he gave one final tug on his seat¡¯s straps as Contrary Intelligence¡¯s engines kicked in, forcing him back into his seat.

    ***

    ¡°Gravity dampeners off, roll 270, slew 50, fire!¡± Waring roared, as Contrary Intelligence groaned at multiple railgun impacts. Her own weapons fired, the largest being a mass projector, capable of sending a ground-car-sized projectile through ten meters of armor.

    For a second it appeared as though every shot had missed, and then Rattus Rattus shuddered as explosion after explosion rippled down its full-length.

    ¡°Kill!¡± crowed the Gunnery Captain, a Rattus herself. Engaging James Herbert, laser batteries at thirty percent charge, mass projector has six shots left.¡±

    ¡°Shield integrity at five percent. Hull integrity at three percent. Recommend we don¡¯t carry out evasive maneuvers,¡± warned the Ships Number One, a huge NeoAfrikaans warrior. ¡°She won¡¯t hold up.¡±

    ¡°Shields won¡¯t hold up to another thirty millimeter las strike either,¡± grumbled Cerberus under his breath. It wouldn¡¯t help the already low morale of the bridge crew to hear their commanding officer complaining.

    ¡°Roger that, Gunnery.¡± Waring threw a screen over to the gunnery section. ¡°Fire all weapons at this position on my command. Fire.¡±

    Contrary Intelligence, shuddered as all surviving weapons blasted at what seemed to be merely plasma-filled space, just as James Herbert emerged nose-on. Known as crossing the tee, Waring¡¯s maneuver meant that his entire broadside was brought to bear on James Herbert, whereas only the ventral and bow-mounted weapons of the enemy ship could return fire.

    ¡°Kill! Spin us tail-end, get ready to reverse thrust for entry into atmosphere,¡± ordered Waring, pounding his armored thigh in excitement as the James Herbert vaporized, disappearing entirely from the ship¡¯s detection systems.

    ¡°Incoming!¡± screeched the Gunnery Captain. Cerberus stiffened with shock as a wall of fire swept through the bridge before everything went black.

    ***

    ¡°We¡¯re coming too ¡­¡±

    ¡°Engines three through five destroy ¡­¡±

    ¡°Maneuvering thrusters ¡­ firing now ¡­¡±

    ¡°Planet fall in one thousand meters, brace!¡±

    ***

    Unsure as to when he had regained consciousness, Cerberus pulled himself along a smoke-filled corridor choked with the bodies of his people. He couldn¡¯t even remember entering the corridor, let alone leaving the bridge, the force of Contrary Intelligence¡¯s crash-landing having well and truly rattled his brains

    Sparks showered down from severed cables, mini stars bursting into short-lived existence.

    Screams, muffled, followed by dull clangs came from his right as smoke billowed along the corridor to his right.

    ¡°Cerberus to all call-signs, abandon ship. Evac Procedure Martello, rendezvous Mike-Mike-Three-Zero. Marked,¡± he followed up his words by opening up his PosMap and marking the point on a flat area roughly five hundred meters away from the crash site.

    Trying to stand he gave a yelp as pain shot up his leg, tears filling his eyes at the intensity.

    ¡°What the Hells, Georgie are you still up?¡± His AI said nothing. ¡°Damn!¡±

    Quick blinking through his system menus, he manually activated a boost of nanites, sighing as the worst of the pain was taken away.

    Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, hissing as more pain washed over him, the nanite dose unable to fully heal him.

    ¡°Damn, Georgie, just when I need you, you have to go and take your time to fucking reboot,¡± he muttered, staggering along the corridor. The screams and banging had ceased. Either they had escaped, or they hadn¡¯t. The ship shuddered as distant explosions rocked it. It was as if her pain was his. He was the first Cerberus in five iterations to lose a mothership.

    A person, skin blackened and hanging from their bones, so charred he couldn¡¯t even tell their race stumbled out from a side corridor. Not a word was said before the crew member gave a gentle sigh and died before him.

    He didn¡¯t dare check his roster; the distraction caused by seeing his people dying in real time wasn¡¯t something he needed at that moment. After, when he was able, would be the time to memorize their names and faces, adding them to the hundreds already stored.

    A great rent in the ship¡¯s hull appeared, a good thirty meters deep, weak light from the outside throwing beams through the dust- and smoke-filled corridor.

    Rolling his shoulders, Cerberus took hold of the jagged metal at the entrance to the hole, took a deep breath, and started to make his way out.

    ***

    Cerberus hobbled gingerly on blackened earth, once-purple grass turned into ash by the burning wreckage scattered all around. A unit beacon pinged on his PosMap, guiding to him the nearest friendly surviving forces.

    ¡°Sir, good to see you¡¯ve finally decided to join us,¡± said Regimental Sergeant Major and four-armed android, Dargecit Omer. ¡°I must commend you on the landing.¡±

    ¡°Piss off RSM, there¡¯s a good chap.¡± Cerberus gingerly lowered himself to the ground, injured leg out. Every fibre of his body screamed in pain. ¡°And it was Lieutenant Colonel Waring¡¯s landing.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t sir, you need NCOs to get things done.¡± The RSM flipped his helmet¡¯s visor and grinned at his Commander. It always looked strange on the android¡¯s synth-skin face. As if Omer had learned to smile from descriptions before ever actually seeing a real smile. ¡°I¡¯ve managed to pull most of the junior officers together. Got them collecting supplies. That way they can¡¯t do anything too stupid.¡±

    Cerberus nodded, now that he was sitting down the effects of adrenaline were rapidly wearing off, limbs feeling heavy, thoughts struggling through a fugue.

    ¡°Get me a medic, please. Georgie¡¯s down for the moment. Casualties?¡±

    ¡°Roughly ten percent. Thirty percent missing. The rest are scattered in a roughly five-kilometers radius. Rest of the fleet is in a similar state. Mister Waring is still on the ship, trying to rescue some trapped crew.¡±

    Cerberus tried to gather his woolly thoughts. It was like trying to herd scalded cats.

    ¡°Well then, looks like we¡¯ve got a war to be won. Let¡¯s set to RSM.¡±

    Ignoring his injuries, Cerberus followed his own order. He¡¯d lost a ship, and he¡¯d be damned if he was going to lose a war.

 Chapter 7 - All bite, no bark

    Arlo twitched and whimpered in his sleep, legs jerking as he tried to run. It was a long time since he¡¯d last had a chance to sleep so deeply and long enough to be able to dream. His current position was in the shattered remains of a Republic settlement.

    Not single building stood higher that a storey tall, most were utterly levelled, surviving inhabitants and battling troops forced into the tunnel and sewers beneath the settlement.

    Drones flew overhead, mapping out the ruins, fortified strongpoints and trenches which marked this stretch of the front. Warfare had evolved over the millennia but it always boiled down to one thing; in order to hold ground, you have to send in the infantry.

    Which was where Arlo and his regiment came in. Cave Canum was their official regimental motto in the old Tearan language of Lat Tin. Their unofficial motto was Omnia non valentes latrare videntes vana mordere, but it was much snappier in common, All Bite, No Bark.

    They took pride in their motto, they were one of the best regiments in the sector and they knew it. Not once had they failed in a mission and, even when the Dominion forces had been forced to retreat, they had only been forced to do so because of the failings of others.

    Arlo gave a choked shout, more of a growl than anything as he slipped deeper into the dream.

    ¡°Get a fucking move on you worthless piece of shit!¡± Roared his Drill Instructor, raising his las lash to encourage Arlo to run faster. As ever he was at the back of the pack of infantry recruits. All of them carried backpacks weighing 40kg and had already been running for over nine kilometres. ¡°You stop when I tell you to stop!¡±

    The las lash cracked next to his ear, so close that he yelped in pain and no little fear. For some reason the instructor had singled him out for his ire. Arlo constantly found himself being used to set an example even when he had succeeded where others had failed.

    ¡°Shut your yapping!¡± the las lash cracked near his head again and he bit down on his tongue, refusing to give the instructor any further excuse to punish him.

    ¡°Sir, yes sir!¡± he barked back, forcing his legs to move that little bit faster, overtaking Raymondo as he did so.

    ¡°Bastard!¡± growled Raymondo with little ire. They¡¯d immediately bonded upon meeting on their induction day and their friendship had continued to grow even when they were placed in a squad with others from different areas.

    A marker appeared on his retinal monitor. 500 metres left until the run was over. If they were ¡®proper¡¯ infantry they would have been given chemical performance enhancers. As it was they were in week three of training and wouldn¡¯t even be given the implants until they graduated from basic training.

    However, just the thought of chemicals flooding through his system and taking away all the pain and exhaustion helped. He¡¯d never heard of the placebo effect, and it wouldn¡¯t have made much difference if he had. It helped, and he practically flew the last stretch, leaving the instructor behind and managing to pass another three recruits.

    ¡°Not bad Arlo, not bad,¡± the instructor said as he crossed with the last of the pack. ¡°Okay puppers, get a drink, then assemble at the range entrance.

    Puppers was what every recruit was called regardless of age. It was designed to remind them that they weren¡¯t fully infantry, weren¡¯t fully part of the Dominion army, even though they had sworn allegiance to the Everlasting Emperor Xerxes. And they wouldn¡¯t be until they passed basic.

    Pass basic. It was a mantra they all repeated. ¡®Five weeks until we pass basic¡¯, ¡®We¡¯ll be proper soldiers once we¡¯ve passed basic¡¯, everything they talked about was doing their best for the Master Instructor and getting through basic so that they were no longer called puppers.

    Doing as he was told, Arlo drank as quickly as he could, following the army edict of ¡®eat, drink and sleep whenever you have the chance.¡¯

    *

    ¡°These blisters are getting worse, Raymondo,¡± whispered Arlo as he bound his friend¡¯s foot. Tough skin covered the sole, but the continual daily pressure of now-thirty kilometre long runs was taking its toll. ¡°You need to report to sickbay.¡±

    ¡°If I do that, they¡¯ll bump me back a week and I¡¯ll lose my place. I¡¯m not missing out on graduating from basic with you guys,¡± he grinned tongue protruding as he did so. ¡°I¡¯ll just take more painkillers, keep the blisters popped and run you bastards into the ground.¡±

    Arlo barked out a laugh, slapping his friend on his should. ¡°I bet you bloody will. Make sure you keep them clean though. Morning, day and night. Clean them.¡±

    Raymondo grinned back, teeth shining in the dim light of the barracks. They¡¯d received augmentations to their eyes which expanded their visual spectrum. As a result, the lights in the barracks had been dimmed and the windows covered to help the puppers get used to their new vision.

    ¡°Three days left. And two days of wargames,¡± Red said, repeating what they all already knew. ¡°And then basic is over.¡±

    ¡°You know what I¡¯m looking forward to the most?¡± Arlo asked the others. He waited, relishing the attentive looks on their faces. Finally, as soon as it looked as though they¡¯d happily bury him, he smiled slowly. ¡°The feast. All the food we could ever eat in one sitting. Prime steak, rump, ribs. You name it, we eat it!¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The others howled with laugher as he mimed shovelling food into his mouth. Grinning, he looked around at his friends, proud to be part of their training cadre.

    *

    ¡°Move it!¡± explosions threw mud and water into the air, forcing Arlo to duck his head as it rained down upon him. A stone bounced off his helmet with a dull tonk. Kinetic projectiles and energy pulses cracked and zipped over head as he charged forward with his squad.

    Checking his retinal monitor he saw they were just over one hundred metres from their objective, an old bunker. The enemy, Training Cadre 4-3 was firmly entrenched. And between them and their objective was a stretch of shell-pocked land.

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone all out in making this feel like the real thing!¡± Raymondo panted out as he lay next Arlo.

    ¡°Just make sure you don¡¯t get hit by a simunition round. They¡¯re designed to hurt more than being hit with the real thing,¡± Arlo warned as he pushed himself to feet as the instructor repeated his order, lash crackling into life.

    Charging forward in pairs, the squad advanced from crater to crater. Yelps and shrieks of pain filled the air as members of their platoon were hit, their individual markers turning red to indicate they were no longer part of the exercise.

    Arlo threw himself forward as mud exploded into the air, simunition punching into the churned earth at his feet. Landing heavily in a water-filled crater he immediately rolled to his right. It had been drummed into them that if they went to ground they couldn¡¯t stay where they landed. If they did, enemy soldiers would be guaranteed to kill them. Land, roll, cover.

    Poking his rifle over the edge of the crater he scanned the enemy position. Crackles of light indicated the positions of the enemy troops. Blink-clicking his retinal monitor he tagged into a drone. Using that he zoomed down into his position in order to work out the best route to the bunker.

    ¡°Raymondo!¡± he commed to his battle buddy. ¡°Three metres to your right, do you see an old trench?¡±

    There was a paused, filled with explosions from artillery fire. Whether it was theirs or the enemy¡¯s he neither knew nor cared. It was damned scary and potentially deadly whichever side was firing. Friendly fire really wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Roger that Arlo. I take it you have a cunning plan?¡± Raymondo replied just before Arlo was about to prod him for an answer.

    ¡°I do. Coming to you.¡± Taking a nerve-steadying breath he pushed himself to his knees, then sprang up and over the lip of his crater into the crater his friend was sheltering in. Siminution chased him, making the hairs on his neck rise. ¡°Emperor be praised for these augments!¡±

    Without them he would have been dog meat. Even though his opponents had also been given augments, they hadn¡¯t truly known his position. Although as he looked at his uniform he realised just how close he had come to being tagged.

    ¡°Bastards!¡± he shoved a finger through the hole in his combat jacket.

    ¡°At least that wasn¡¯t your hide!¡± Raymondo said, keeping as low in their crater as he could. ¡°You said something about a plan?¡±

    Arlo held up a finger for patience as he checked his retinal monitor. With a sinking feeling he saw that they were the only two members of their squad still in the game. Even their instructor had been tagged.

    Serves the stupid fucker right, we should have flanked them, not charged across open ground, he thought with no little satisfaction.

    ¡°This trench hooks around behind the bunker, ends up in a ruined building. I reckon we have a chance of flanking those bastards.¡±

    He sent the map which he had marked with their route over to Raymondo¡¯s retinal monitor.

    ¡°Better than waiting here for some instructor and their damned lash,¡± Raymondo said once he¡¯d looked the route over. ¡°I¡¯ll take point.¡±

    Arlo wasn¡¯t about to argue with him. Taking point was a decidedly risky role as it meant first contact with any enemy troops and a higher chance of hitting a mine or improvised explosive device. Gripping his assault rifle even tighter, he followed his friend into the ruined trench.

    *

    It took them exactly nine minutes and twenty seven seconds according to his retinal monitor¡¯s clock. Their platoon, their company even, had completely faltered in its attack, unable to proceed in the face of stiff enemy resistance. And the key point of the resistance was their squad¡¯s objective. Bunker 3-5-1. A catchy name.

    ¡°It¡¯s completely wrecked!¡± Raymondo gasped as they lay in the ruined building Arlo had seen. And it was true. Whilst the front of the bunker was intact, at some point the back walls and part of the roof had been utterly destroyed.

    ¡°I count ten, plus their Master Instructor!¡± Arlo practically drooled at the idea of putting simunition into the back of a Master Instructor. From the get-go recruits were trained to obey every single word of the Mis without question. ¡®Sit, stand, jump, charge¡¯ no matter what the order, it was to be obeyed. The Master Instructors were Emperors in the eyes of the recruits, the other instructors being slightly minor deities. ¡°I¡¯ll shoot the ones on the left and work right into the middle, you shoot the ones on the right and work left into the middle.¡±

    ¡°Got that,¡± Raymono said as he laid his sights upon their prey.

    ¡°Fire on three, two, one,¡± their rifles barked, three round bursts sending simunition zipping through the air to slam into the backs of their unsuspecting enemies. One after the other they pitched forward onto the floor, the Master Instructor taking shots from both of them before she fell to the ground.

    ¡°Bunker 3-5-1 clear! Sector Three clear!¡± Arlo commed over the company channel. Looking over at his friend, he grinned as he heard their comrades belling their war cry.

    *

    Arlo stood proudly at attention as the Master Commander slowly made his way long the lines of recruits. At each one he stopped and shared a few words before moving on. Finally he was stood before Arlo.

    ¡°You have been an exceptionally good boy,¡± the Master said, reaching out to ruffle the top of Arlo¡¯s head. Arlo grinned, tongue lolling in happiness as the Master took the collar offered to him and slowly leant forward to clasp it around Arlo¡¯s neck. ¡°Welcome to the regiment.¡±

    Stepping back, the Master raised his head and howled, joined with over a thousand other voices as the dogmen joined him in celebrating their graduation.

    *

    ¡°Arlo! Shut the fuck up!¡± A hand cracked across his snout, making him yelp and jolting him out of his dream.

    ¡°Sorry, Master,¡± he cringed away from the still raised hand, not wanting to give the human further excuse to strike him. Whilst the Masters in his regiment were kind, encouraging, and treated him and his fellow chimerans well, Masters from other regiments, to which he was now attached, weren¡¯t. They were more like the instructors in the way they relished using punishment to ensure obedience.

    ¡°Good to fucking hear it. Now, be a good boy and attack this position.¡±

    A map appeared on his retinal monitor. Looking at the survivors of his squad, he gathered his kit and head out to battle, all memory of his dream gone.