The Red Leopards of Zaxon B (Galaxies Collide Book 2)

by McGregor, Andrew

  Brooks and Barone staggered backwards against the inner wall, the blast from a pulse grenade overwhelming their frames as they struggled to remain upright. Muzzle flashes lit up the darkened corridor around them, the marines to their left firing at their targets through the smoke. Shrieks of hatred filled the air, the Morgon shock troops suffering horrendous casualties against defensive lasers and assault rifle fire.

  Brooks dropped to his knees, grasping a grenade from his breastplate and priming it before lobbing it into the curling smoke, the explosion in mid-air deafening as the nearest two Morgons were thrown against the inner hull. Barone fired burst after burst, gritting his teeth as the butt of his rifle ground against his shoulder armour, his visor surging red. The shouts from behind almost drowned out as the defending soldiers gradually retreated round the inner ring.

  Three more Morgons surged forward over the trembling bodies through the billowing shroud, the Trevakians screaming as they charged their foe. Hand to hand fighting broke out as Barone gritted his teeth through the smoke, his rifle firing single shots at any target he could see. Brooks primed grenade after grenade, tossing them over the writhing bodies as six station personnel beat their attackers to the floor with their rifle butts. The enemy shock troops spun their bodies round thrusting upwards, screams from the defenders as the sharp armour sliced through combat uniforms, cutting and scything through flesh as they smashed their rifles across the enemy body armour.

  Barone advanced at a crouch into the tentacles of dust, firing at point blank range into the Morgon armour, the dense blood spurting across the walls and injured defenders as the resisting enemy finally collapsed. The explosions beyond rocked the defenders bodies, a couple grasping deep injuries as they limped past Brooks, his rifle now raised and firing into the billowing mass covering the corridor.

  The automatic machine guns above them whirred, tracers pouring into the smoke as the sensors activated the guns, shrieks from the Morgon shock troops filling the void as they desperately sought to take cover. Bullets and red hot tracer smacked against body armour as the tall armoured soldiers twisted and ducked in attempts to avoid the incoming fire. Explosions shattered against the outer hull of the station, the shriek of cracking glass as a blast shield was blown from its housing. Then the transparent reinforced alloy shattered outwards, air sucking and screaming through the opening as bodies and debris were sucked towards the gaping hole.

  The defenders staggered backwards, their gravitational boots straining against the outer corridor floor as bodies were wrenched violently forward. Boxes and rejected bullet casings swept past, the sucking of air propelling items at high speed towards outer space. Two Morgon shock troops clattered against the outer wall, their armoured hands frantically grasping for anything to hold as their frames slid towards the viewing hole. Armour cracked and shatters as the frames smashed against the opening sides, the bodies yanked out into space as more debris swept and swirled around the corridor. The defenders stepped back, their boots grinding against the corridor floor as dust obscured vision, the grips on weapons tensing as the extreme pull increased.

  Red flashing lights filled the corridor, the computerised voice almost a scream against the enemy shrieks and grinding of decompression, ‘Hull breach! Decompression alert…all personnel retreat from danger area immediately!’ The defenders backed away, objects flying past them from behind with increasing velocity, their gloved hands rising to protect their transparent visors instinctively.

  The computerised voice sounded a shrill warning, ‘Shields compromised…unable to seal breach…retreat from area! Personnel alert…retreat form area now!’ The defenders fell back further, their eyes strained to see through the turbulent dust and debris. Then a silhouette emerged, the Morgon armour adapting to the atmospheric challenges, the figure raising its weapon.

  The computerised voice sounded again, ‘Diverting power to shield…enclosing breach attempted!’ Automated tracers swept into the smoke, the sparks off the armour lighting up the corridor as the bulky figure stepped forward.

  Barone dropped next to his countryman, his rifle jerking as he fired the last of his magazine down towards the emerging silhouettes. Rough hands grasped them from behind, Brooks toppling backwards as they were dragged away, the shouts of the Trevakians filling their ringing ears, ‘This is where they will throw their grenades to take out the guns! Move back now!’

  They half scrambled desperately along the corridor, firing as they backed away, the clanks of magnetic grenades sticking to the walls as their eyes widened. Flames surged around them, the roof guns falling silent as Morgon incendiaries blinded the sensors, then the blast wave from the mines silencing them as more shrieks filled the air, the enemy advancing once more.

  The empty clip clattered to the station floor, Barone slapping another into the chamber of his weapon, his light blue helmet splattered with deep red and green blood as he shouted frantically, ‘We need more defensive positions…use the doorways behind!’

  They turned in unison, eyes widening as they saw the heavy laser cannon behind, the Trevakians wheeling it forward and lowering the rear of the heavy weapon. Several soldiers to the rear ran forward with spare power cells as the six barrels glowed, then commenced sparking, the soldiers struggling past as Barone shouted, ‘Gatling guns…this should tear them up!’

  Brooks grinned beneath his helmet, his viewing screen cracked, ‘What about the other side?’

  A Trevakian officer emerged from one of the side doorways ahead, his blue suit lined with silver piping as he frantically indicated, ‘All troops behind the lasers…bring out the flame dispersers!’ Static charge surged across the corridor, sparks and electrical charge flying out from the heavy weapon as the barrels started to spin. Trevakians on either side fired out into the shroud, protecting the gun until it reached full power, more smoke grenades clattering across the floor as the Morgons prepared to attack again.

  Admiral Shadian slammed his fist onto his console in frustration, the lights flickering above as station power was interrupted, ‘What is the situation on deck 74?’

  The comms officer replied, shouting across the bridge, ‘Heavy enemy presence…our defence force is being pushed back round the outer rim…Morgon shock troops now breaking into 73 under heavy fire. Reports of skirmishes on 75!’

  The Admiral rose, a deep sigh coming from his lips, ‘Have we anyone else to send? What of the wounded, can any of them replace fully fit personnel and release them to fight?’

  The remaining comms officers eyes widened as they glanced at each other, one rising to face their commander defiantly, ‘I will go and organise any more personnel Sir! Sweep the station clean of any remaining staff in the mess hall or armoury…even the transport bays…’

  Shadian nodded in acceptance, ‘Good…’ He turned to the intelligence section, ‘One in two of you get up to the upper floors…get every auto weapon and heavy defensive equipment you can. Start building barricades in the corridors below the fighting…let’s give our soldiers something to fall back to!’ He indicated to one of the rising personnel, ‘You find escape routes for the troops on floors already occupied by the enemy…we need every soldier to stop them.’

  He leant forward, retrieving his automatic rifle from its housing beneath his desk, pulling the bolt back instinctively as his jaw tensed, ‘Send out an appeal to the surface…see if anyone is insane enough to attempt to fly up here and help us…and retrieve the wounded!’ He indicated to his second in command, the woman rising from her comms desk open mouthed as she stared at the assault rifle, ‘I will be on remote station frequency…brief me as to any reserves we can find, I will be up on 72 or 73!’

  The officer stiffened, raising her fist to her chest sharply, ‘Yes Admiral…’ Turning she glanced defiantly across the few remaining communications officers as the commander left the bridge, her voice tense, ‘You heard our commander…this station will not fall…get to it!’

  Chapter Thirteen: To the Rangara Outpost

&n
bsp; Riaz stirred in his sleep, his eyes flickering as he felt the gentle push to his leg. Sighing, his mind drifted, descending towards a deep sleep again as his leg jerked once more, his nose twitching as his senses began to become more alert. Slowly a voice drifted through his sleepy mind, ‘Come on Riaz…you have fallen asleep in the restroom again, it’s time to go out and meet the public…there is a busy flight schedule this morning…you are assigned to the archway!’

  His head twitched, his chest sucking in air as his eyes opened, his mind confused as his hand rose to his forehead, his body twisting in the inflated bed, ‘Wh-what?’

  The lights shone down from above, his pupils contracting as he felt the reassuring warmth covering his body, the medical suit and thick sleeping bag excreting painkillers and relaxants onto his frame. Then a shadow filled his vision, his lips slowly pursing as he identified the outline of a helmet, the grinning white teeth of a cheeky Philippine staring down at him as she whispered into his face, ‘Come on sleepy head…it’s time to get up! I have some food for you…’

  Riaz closed his eyes again, the warmth of the covering material too much to resist as he grumbled, ‘Wake me when it’s ready…’ He turned over, nuzzling back under the cover of the heated sleeping bag.

  The prod to his leg was more demanding, increasing in insistence, ‘But you have to choose…will it be red, blue or green?’

  Debra’s raised voice filled the tent, her body rising to a seated position in her sleeping bag, ‘Shino! Stop annoying him…he is recovering. Tregan will be back soon, then we will all eat.’

  Shino leant back, sitting cross legged next to her slumbering colleague as she pouted in jest, ‘But I have no one to play with…you are too old and always pull rank when I start to win!’ She poked Riaz’s leg playfully, the young Asian male grunting in disgust.

  Debra’s eyes narrowed, her stare meeting Shino’s eyes, ‘Do I have to tell you again…leave him alone, he is tired! Put one tin of each colour out and let him decide when Tregan arrives…’

  Riaz sat bolt upright, his hand rubbing his eyes and voice croaky, ‘For heaven’s sake…how can anyone sleep with you two nattering away at each other?’ He nudged Shino, unbalancing her as she fell backwards from the inflated bed giggling. He shook his head, grinning, ‘This is like some insane TV family show…daddy Tregan, mummy Debra and ‘psycho bitch’ sister, Shino…a weapons specialist!’ He pushed the Philippine back down playfully as she attempted to rise, ‘Now where’s my breakfast wench?’

  Debra grinned as Shino burst out laughing, bowing her head in submissive jest, ‘Very well master…I will cook for you. What is your chosen dish oh great one? Red, blue or green?’

  Riaz’s eyes widened in disbelief, ‘What the hell does that mean?

  Debra interrupted, ‘Before you get misled by ‘the devious one’, the colours are for the food rations…red is very hot, blue is ordinary…and well, we are not sure what green is yet.’

  Riaz glanced sleepily across the tent, ‘Ok…well I will try blue then. Not a great fan of spicy food in the early morning, what does it come with?’

  Shino quickly retrieved a blue tin and smacked it against the metal alloy box, tossing it to him as his eyes opened further, her grin widening, ‘It comes with a tin, spatula and a smile…I hope you appreciate my cooking!’

  The Asian male looked in wonder at the warm tin in his hands, a smile spreading across his face as he determined how to open it, ‘Lazy little thing…I bet you had the red one!’ He glanced round suspiciously, ‘What the hell…it’s not even light yet! Even here we are doing early shifts…my shift pay had better reflect this!’

  Debra winced as Shino giggled again, the Philippine smacking another red tin against the metal alloy box, ‘I will let you try my fiery feast but only if you are nice to me…’

  Riaz glanced at her, his brown eyes narrowing playfully, ‘Good…I can be as rude as I like then! Bollocks to your spicy food at whatever unearthly time it is! Don’t they have any coffee here?’

  The tent opening swept back automatically, Captain Dugachard stepping through the flaps as snow swirled in from the darkness beyond. A smile crossed her lower face beneath the visor as she saw Riaz tucking ravenously into the contents of the tin, ‘I see you like our food?’

  Riaz nodded, depositing another mush laden spatula into his mouth, ‘Yes Sir! This is very good!’

  Debra attempted to rise, the captain raising an outstretched glove to prevent her, ‘No need…it is very early after all.’ She moved to the side, Tregan stepping through after her, his arms laden with a large sack as he smiled in acknowledgement.

  Captain Dugachard indicated to the large bag, ‘Here are your new uniforms…I suggest you have something quick to eat and then get ready to move. We are ordered further west, away from Morasat to a small military outpost, Rangara. We will take supplies and relieve the Red Leopards there, so they can be spared for the front…’ She glanced across the three wide eyed volunteers, ‘It should be relatively quiet there and you can have a rest…guard duty and the occasional patrol. We will be taking several of the surviving soldiers from Contax Base.’

  Shino placed the red canister carefully onto the metal alloy box, rising to approach Tregan as he dropped the sack, opening the top to rummage inside. Glancing up, he retrieved three sets of shoulder armour, handing the Philippine one.

  Shino’s eyes widened further, her fingers running over the bubbled armour with red piping, a gasp coming from her lips, ‘But this is a Red Leopard uniform…’

  Captain Dugachard grinned, ‘Yes it is…not full combat kit for front line units, but Red Leopard never the less.’ She stepped carefully to the side, lowering herself onto Shino’s bed and collecting a green tin, ‘The outpost oversees a small number of villagers…it is important for these Trevakian settlers and the locals to believe we are still strong and able to provide security…the decision was therefore made to dress you in these uniforms. Tregan, myself and a number of others will do the same and present to the locals that his is just a rotation of units…although we will be less than what is there at present.’ She leant forward and smacked the tin against the metal box as Tregan handed Shino a new combat uniform, the red piping and lines impressing the Philippine.

  Debra stared at Captain Dugachard, ‘Won’t this make us more of a target?’

  The Captain shook her head, smiling confidently, ‘No…probably less of one. The locals are quite in awe of the Red Leopards…although your uniforms are not completely frontline, they should accept you as part of the unit and be reassured by your presence.’ She slipped the top of the canister open, breathing in the steam greedily that rose from within and digging the spatula into the contents, ‘The enemy are not expected in that area, so we should be relatively secure. The base has strong weapons and is easily defended should we face any problems apparently.’ She blew on the steaming food laden spatula, popping it into her mouth and smiling warmly at the flavour.

  Debra watched her carefully, ‘What’s the green tin contain then?’

  Captain Dugachard looked up, ‘Oh…I should have said, we studied your recipes and made the green canister based on human taste…’ She glanced at the base of the container, ‘This is meatballs in a spag-hetti sauce, whatever that is…very nice…most of our troops love it!’ Confusion spread across her face as groans from the three humans filled the tent, her voice becoming inquisitive, ‘Did you not look at the base of the tins?’

  Shino glanced back down, rolling the new helmet around in her hands, her fingers running along the red piping on the reinforced resin and polymer, ‘This is good stuff…does it work just like our other helmets?

  Tregan grinned at her observations, ‘Yes, just the same…you will keep your assault rifles as none of the Leopard weaponry can be spared. Boots and gloves remain the same, but the rest is new. Once we have finished here, we will go to the mobile armoury, have your gear synchronized with you individually.’ He grimaced slightly, ‘We may be short of troops, but not un
iforms for them…’

  Riaz was scraping the bottom of the tin, attempting to retrieve every last drop of food, ‘I have just one question for you…’ He looked up in mock curiosity.

  Captain Dugachard glanced at him, ‘Yes?’

  The Asian male grinned widely, ‘How did you get one small enough for Shino?’ He laughed out loud as the Philippine turned to glare at him, pointing at her disapproving face with his spatula, ‘Two Red Leopards and one mini-Leopard cub!’

  Their boots crunched across the frozen snow, flakes billowing around them as they advanced in the headlights of the halftracks. Jagged snow covered rocks rose up on either side, the strong freezing breeze blowing dust and snow across their hunched figures as the combat uniforms pushed warmth against their skin. Condensed exhaled breath was blown from their mouths, the bitter temperatures nipping at the exposed lower face as the visors produced digitalised images of the terrain ahead.

  They had been advancing for nearly an hour, the rumbles of artillery fire drifting behind them as the distant flashes become no longer visible. Riaz hunched his shoulders further, the Red Leopard armour hugging his frame as he trudged forward beside one of the halftracks. Pin lights shone from the sides of his new helmet, mostly reflecting against the dust and low freezing mist as it swirled around their figures. The numerous soldiers lined the sides of the track, trudging forward with assault rifles slung over their shoulders through the deepening snowfall, the vehicles grinding along in the centre.

  Captain Dugachard advanced at the front of the small column with Tregan and Debra, their bodies leaning slightly against the bitter wind as they progressed. The motors whined as the halftracks lumbered forward, tilting and bouncing as they overcame obstructions on the track below. Shino walked behind Riaz, cursing the weather and wishing for the sunlight that bathed the Philippines and occasionally her native south west London in light. She kicked out at the snow, raising her voice to the figure ahead of her, ‘Bet you don’t miss the traffic!’