Siege of Terra (The Mavrik Woods Series, Book 1)

BOOK: Siege of Terra (The Mavrik Woods Series, Book 1)
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SIEGE OF TE
RRA

 

 
 

 
 

 

 

 

Robin MacMillan

 

A Mavrik Woods Novel

Volume 1

 

 

 

Text copyright © 2013 Robin MacMillan

Artwork copyright © Robin MacMillan

All Rights Reserved

 

 

To my wonderful family and friends that have given me lots of love and support, without them I don’t think I would have ever finished. Huge thanks to all those that helped me out.

Pr
olo
gue

 

 

Day 34: Cycle 3: Period 2: Year 2397

 

 

I
wake up, the world around me in utter chaos. Screaming. Blood. Explosions light up my surroundings. My ears ring from the heat of battle. Thopium bursts flying randomly through the air, hitting friendlies and enemies alike, their owner not caring if they kill their own.

My head is still ringing in my helmet; the electric systems have been knocked out, probably from the EMP that was fired from the Mortar tanks at the northern barrier line. I watch through the burned-out eye sockets in my helmet as enemy soldiers advance on my unit. It was too late though, the armour locked up after it was hit. All I can do is watch in horror as my fellow soldiers are being obliterated by weapons fire from seemingly every direction.

They broke through the southern wall of the command outpost. The men that are under my command are oblivious to the fact that the enemy is right behind them. I shake my head inside my helmet. I decide to do whatever it takes to win this battle, we must win it. Otherwise Terra might fall. I will not let them destroy my home, even if it means my death. I look around my surroundings for something that I could use to take out as many hostile soldiers as possible.

I grope on my right hip for my pistol, finally some good luck; my trusty pistol is still in its holster. I bring my other hand up to the side latches on my helmet, the manual release clamp that would enable me to unseal the neck clip, allowing me to breathe in fresh air.

I hear a faint hiss as the stale air from inside my helmet is released into the world. Luckily though when my suit was fried by the EMP, the life support activated. The emergency oxygen cylinders had come to life. Letting me breathe air, although stale air, but air nonetheless while I was unconscious.

I haven't had my helmet off and my head exposed to the outside world for almost ten hours. Being in my armour for that long is not my idea of fun, but necessary. Either you live in your armour in the middle of a war zone and act like it's a second skin, or you die. Most people don't make the transition smoothly, but I could care less. Almost. Being in it for so long still gets me a bit edgy. What I would give for a decent sleep and a hot meal. Maybe later.

I let my helmet drop to the ground since it’s useless now, unless my gun runs out of ammo, then maybe I could use it as a club. Oh, the irony. I only give myself a few seconds to enjoy the fresh air then I do my best to drag myself around the corner of a charred and blown up barrier; that was where the pulse knocked out my entire electrical system.

The unpowered armour now feels like it weighs an extra forty kilos. I know that will slow me down, although because it was not a hundred percent electric, I can still function with it being offline. It has several nice features when it is active though; it makes me stronger, faster and boosts one’s natural senses and abilities. I know the after effects of the EMP shock wave would wear off my body eventually, allowing me to move freely and fight without restraint.

 “Aspin Base come in, Aspin Base this is Colonel Woods, over. Come in Aspin Base, respond immediately. You have multiple hostiles on your six. If you can hear me, I repeat, you have multiple hostiles on your six, closing in fast,” I wait for a reply that I know would never come. The EMP blast must have also fried my wireless implant.

If I stay here to recuperate the rest of my men would be slaughtered, the only thing I could do is to pull it together and help them as best as I can, even in my condition.

I reach into one of my compartments on my belt, taking out a small vial, revealing a needle at the end of it. I feel down my leg for the tiny gap between the Graphite plates on my armour. Feeling the slight indent as my hand runs over it I inject the needle into my leg. I feel a warm sensation course through my body and into my bloodstream. Adrenal Stims were not always the best to use in combat, but in my case I would allow this one exception.

I brace myself up against the barrier, pushing into the ground with my boots to push myself up.

On my feet and feeling more confident in my abilities, I do my best to race through the rubble of the blown up buildings and speeders. Dodging between obstacles, everything almost had a blurred look to it, this was the first time I have ever taken an Adrenal Stim; I have always just relied on my body, not heightened drug affects.

It was ironic, having all this technology and advanced armour, the built in HUD was supposed to make combat easier. History reports that I had studied said that back in the day people on Earth had gotten themselves into seemingly pointless wars, just wearing the clothes on their backs and a weapon in their hands.

Now, here I am, in a heavy metal suit, doing exactly what my long dead ancestors were doing hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Although this war had the ultimate purpose, this war would help prevent human extinction.

I’m not even paying attention to the surrounding area as an explosion cracks through the night sky, waking me from my own thoughts. I peer through the hole in one of the buildings. My ears still ringing from the previous explosion. I have never gone into battle without being fully immersed in my armour; sounds have been amplified without the noise dampeners in my helmet, seeing as my armour is offline.

I reach over my shoulder to grab my sniper rifle attached to my back plates, carefully navigating it so the barrel wouldn’t brush up against any rubble and give away my position. Usually sniping with this rifle was easy; my helmet would be connected through the wireless receivers inserted directly into all my weapons.

Looking through the motion sensor scope of the rifle, I line the sights up to target one of the enemy soldiers. A motion scope was the only scope that was useful against the Hakorian soldiers because they are cold-blooded humanoids and they give off no heat signature to track. Still looking through the scope, I quickly count how many targets I would have to take out.

I count seven before I make my move.

I squeeze the trigger and fire off a few shots in rapid succession. I watch as the rear three soldiers fall down dead. The fourth goes down wounded as the last shot passes through flesh, bone, and then directly threw the other side of the third soldier. The energy round leaves nothing in its wake but a gaping cauterized hole directly in the middle of the thirds stomach.

With three left standing and now alert of my presence I drop my sniper rifle on the ground seeing as it would only slow me down.

I run towards the remaining targets. I reach into my holster and take out my gun.

I line it up to the fifth targets head.

I pull the trigger.

The Hakorian dies before it even has time to hiss in agony. I don’t even take the time to notice the death of the fifth as I continue to run towards them. The sixth and seventh Hakorian soldier -now aware that their comrades died just mere seconds ago- begin to charge me.

They run towards me, hissing and cursing.

I fire off two more rounds, hoping to take them out from a distance; they easily sidestep them though.

Most men wouldn’t dare try to take down a Hakorian in hand-to-hand combat, although most men aren’t like me.

I yell a war cry as I get close to them. They were almost on me as I twist my back leg towards the ground and slide through the dirt.

I eject my hidden blade in my left gauntlet and slash a long gash in the Hakorians right leg. Hissing in fury it drops to the ground. I roll off the ground and stab into the midsection of its stomach. I feel the resistance as the blade passes through the rib cage and directly into its heart, its eyes are wide in shock. It lies there looking into my eyes as thick green blood poured out of its mouth. It had only taken three seconds to take out the sixth.

One left.

I spin around just in time and avoid being decapitated by its razor sharp claws.

Bringing my right hand up I fire off two rounds, aiming for the stomach. My shots are too slow though. The first shot goes far to the left. The second one skims the right side of the Hakorian, injuring it only slightly. I bring my left hand up to guard my face as the Hakorian tries to claw me, only to meet failure as its claws bounce off my armour plating, leaving a lengthy thin line extending from my gauntlet down across to my right hip. I try to shoot it again, this time from point blank range. The Hakorian is too fast though and must have expected what my next move was going to be.

I watch as my gun flies from my hand, the blow that I receive feels as if a speeder hit me. My teeth are still rattling as I bite directly into my tongue. With my back on the ground I roll out of the way to avoid being stepped on.

“There iss no esscape human, you musst realize that.”
The Hakorian hisses at me.

 I begin to circle it as I draw out my hidden blade, ready to end this fight. “Come and finish it then.” I spit on the ground, taunting it. It hisses angrily as I roll to the ground, slashing at its uninjured hip, my blade passes through the flesh with ease. The Hakorian falls to the ground, clutching its hip in pain.

“That won’t save you, and you know it, you’re as good as dead.”

It tries its best to stand up. The Hakorian gets on its knees. Dark green blood is beginning to flow out of its mouth. It has only minutes to live; minutes in pain could feel like hours.

I was trained to kill people, not trained to injure and watch them suffer, regardless of the species. I bring my knee up into the Hakorians jaw, snapping its neck backwards; the corpse falls to the ground, its head at an unnatural angle.

I search the body for anything useful.

My hand traces over something metal in one of the small open compartments on the Hakorians hip.

Dog tags; some of the names I don’t recognize, but one catches my eye, half of it is covered in dried up blood. I rub off the blood with my thumb. A shiver traces up my spine as I see the call sign.

T-Rave.

I stand up, ready to leave this place. Getting back to Headquarters is my only priority now.

“Rot in hell,” spitting on the corpse as I turn around. Only to see a giant fist centimeters away from my face, I have only a split second to register what is happening. It’s a gloved human hand, not a clawed Hakorian hand.

Pain. Sharp pain tracing up my face, what follows shortly is white light, then darkness.

It feels like I’m falling into an abyss.

My name is Mavrik Woods.

We thought we were alone in this universe, but we were wrong. They came, they killed and they destroyed. My mission was to stop them. Now, I fear that I have failed.

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