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

By Andrew McGregor

Explosions rocked the trench walls, the soldiers ducking below the emplacement sides as they thrust their faces into the freezing dirt. Blasts of laser fire swept above the Trevakian dug cover, the lights flashing across the soldiers armour as they cowered against each other, their face drawn and eyes wide with shock as the heavy bombardment continued. 

Jozefina Kapralova winced as the debris fell onto the reserve soldiers, their uniforms covered in dust and dirt as the ground shook violently. Several of the troops around her were screaming, their previous experience in the reserve units of their home countries ill preparing them for the ferocity of the Morgon artillery barrage.

Smoke and billowing dust swept across the prone figures as several raised their hands over their helmets in futile protective cover. With each deafening explosion their bodies jerked instinctively, the shock and sound waves enveloping the cowering figures as they wept or shook uncontrollably in terror. The Trevakian marines assigned to protect the group shouted hoarsely through the barrage, their voices mostly drowned out by the blasts, urging the inexperienced soldiers to ‘Keep Down,’ ‘Open their mouths and cover their ears,’ or ‘To stay still and as low as possible.’

Positioned over thirty kilometres east of the capital of Zaxon B, Morasat, the reserve troops of the Heathrow battalion, supplemented with other reserves and their escorting Trevakians had moved up over the last two and a half hours, the intense battle raging to the north and south as they initially marched confidently. The soldiers and their Trevakian allies believing this would be a relatively quiet area of the front, the land before the defences considered to be almost impossible to attack across. The high ground the trenches were dug into overlooked a wide flat expanse of desolate and uninhabitable terrain, high powered winds sweeping across the snow covered brush land, the four lines of trenches dug into the top of a low cliff line.

The soldiers had marched up, their boots crunching in the snow and staring in confident awe as they witnessed the static guns positioned along the line, the rumbling sounds of heavy battle sweeping across from their right and left. Thick smoke plumes rose up into the sky all across the horizon to the south, east and west, the heavy aroma of burning and explosive material filling their nostrils. They had pointed in awe at the impressive array of weaponry including laser cannons, artillery pieces and pre-fabricated pillboxes and bunkers, the automated emplacements slowly submerging themselves in the rocky terrain as their hulks gradually twisted round, burrowing into the ground.

Several heavily defended small towns and villages lay in the distance to the east, the forward units of the Trevakian marines and armoured reconnaissance units holding the enemy soldiers in a deadly stalemate. Accompanying the forward units, small squadrons of the British Special Air Service and Royal Marines were gaining valuable initial combat experience with a new enemy…one that took no prisoners…unaware that the Morgons had now broken through to the south and north east and were sweeping across their flanks…heading straight for the inexperienced reserve infantry of the Heathrow battalion. The Morgons knew that if they took the high ground…the Trevakian forces in the terrain before it were isolated and finished…that the prized bloodied skulls of their enemies would soon be in their possession.

Jo Kapralova frantically grasped the shoulder armour of the blond haired soldier next to her as he tried to rise in panic, his face contorted in terror, her voice screaming in his ears, ‘Stay down Rees!’

She thrust the younger man against the trench floor, pushing her body on top of his as he squirmed to break free, his slim body shaking uncontrollably in fright. A Trevakian marine next to her grabbed the young soldier’s arms, preventing him from attempting to rise again, the young man screaming in frustration as a shell burst overhead. Dirt and rocks cascaded over their backs as the whistling of artillery continued, the walker mounted lasers sweeping across the high ground as the Morgons began to near the low cliffs, their eyes glowing red as the sensed the defender’s fear. Their confidence rising with the lack of defensive fire.

Black and camouflaged Morgon armoured infantry ran alongside their walkers, the forward breakthrough units relishing the potential battle ahead, their alloy body protection splattered with the blood of Trevakian soldiers from the previous defensive line. Behind them, more Morgon armoured soldiers surged forward, their supply units brutalising and removing bloodied heads and skulls from the gored dead defenders.

Glancing round frantically, Jozefina grimaced as two combat uniformed figures approached, their bodies bent low and visors dark black under the emplacement walls as dust and smoke swept across the line. One of the approaching soldiers turned to shout at the man behind, Jo Kapralova’s eyes widening as she saw the small dirt covered American flag emblazoned on his shoulder armour. The figure turned back, lowering further as he approached, flames whipping across the top of the trench walls as an incendiary shell exploded.

He nodded to her in greeting, his stubble covered face grim as he shouted hoarsely, ‘Are you in command?’

Jozefina nodded wide eyed, ‘American?’

The soldier grinned, glancing down at the struggling soldier beneath her, his dust coated throat causing a strained shout, ‘Yes! What unit are you?’

She gritted her teeth, ‘Heathrow volunteers! You?’

The trooper’s eyes widened in shock, ‘Volunteers? What the hell do ya mean?’ He ducked instinctively as an explosive roar swept across them, the cracking of igniting ammunition shaking the trench walls.

Her eyes narrowed, ‘We volunteered…we are security staff…’ The explosions drowning her out as they ducked again, more smoke sweeping through the trench system, ‘…We were meant to be in reserve units…security…’

The soldier shook his head in frustration, ‘Did you tell anyone? You are wearing frontline combat uniforms for heaven’s sake…what experience do you have?’’

Jozefina shrugged, the laser blasts flying above the emplacement, the lights reflecting off their visors, ‘…We are all reservists…’

The man slumped in the trench in despondency, shaking his head, ‘What the hell! This is a combat zone…front line now…you guys have no experience?’

Jozefina shook her head despondently, tears forming in her eyes, ‘We did not think…’

Screams echoed across the walls, the shrapnel from an explosion zipping further long the trench, several soldiers writhing in agony as they were hit, the escorting Trevakian marines desperately shouting for medics. The American gritted his teeth and turned to stare at her in grim exasperation, spitting dust from his mouth, ‘I am Captain Mason, US military observer from the Embassy Staff in London...I am now assuming command.’ He ducked again as a shell burst overhead, his lips pursing in determination, ‘This is not a game…you don’t become a soldier by just wearing a uniform and carrying a weapon! How the hell are the Trevakians to know you are reservists if you are dressed in full uniform…they are fighting for their survival…they have not got time to ask! Lives may be lost because of this lunacy…’ He bit his lip in frustration, turning desperately to the Trevakian trooper escorting him behind, ‘This is now my unit…what reserves have you got nearby? These soldiers are totally unsuitable for front line duty…they are civilian volunteers…we need to reinforce!’

The escort’s eyes widened in horror, more dust falling onto them, ‘No one said…we thought you humans provided experienced soldiers to help…they are in combat uniform…why…how are they volunteers?’

Captain Mason grasped his shoulder forcefully, shouting into the man’s face, ‘We can apologise later…now we need more troops to hold this line…what can you get me?’

The soldier thought for a second, ducking again as the roar above intensified, ‘There are some more of your men to the rear…different faces, white flag, red and blue circle and strange lines in the corners?’

The captain smiled grimly at the soldier’s innocence, ‘South Korean special forces! Bring them all up fast…get the rest of my men…’ He glanced grimly at Jozefina, ‘…All fifteen of them!’

Explosions rocked the walls again, a shout from further behind, ‘Nano and acid shells incoming!’

After the Trevakian Empire’s final realisation that the war with the Morgons was deteriorating rapidly and their position weakening, the decision was reluctantly made to make contact with earth. Admiral Karladen, a decorated commander, was selected and despatched for this task in the only vessel available that could be spared from the fighting, his grim mission to not only reveal there was life in the galaxies beyond earth’s, but to invite and involve the human race into a battle for survival.

Unfortunately, the Trevakian Battle Cruiser was followed through space, the pursuing Morgon enemy arriving shortly afterwards and commencing their attack, hell-bent on ensuring the destruction of the diplomatic mission. Admiral Karladen was horrified to realise that earth’s forces were simply no match for the Morgon weaponry, with pilots from numerous countries simply shot from the skies as they attempted to engage a new vicious enemy.

On Zaxon B, far across the next galaxy, the vicious ground fighting intensified, the isolated Trevakians not only outnumbered, but struggling with radio and communication jamming and a seeming endless stream of armoured Morgon reinforcements. Due to overwhelming enemy forces and ingenuity, the Trevakians and few human reinforcements were pushed back from defensive positions at Contax Base and are now in full retreat. Before the planet capital, the main thrust of Morgon armour and infantry are smashing against the Trevakian front lines, the improvised human additions unable to stem the tide of an adversary determined to eliminate the presence of their arch enemy from the planet completely.

David Bland, a Duty Manager on the morning of first contact attempted a desperate effort to locate and retrieve his lost and isolated staff once he discovered to his horror they were on the planet’s surface. Assisted by a marine uniform initially provided innocently for familiarisation, he commandeered a Trevakian transport craft, unwittingly able to provide valuable ground support to allow his fleeing staff to escape Morgon clutches and sure death. Chased by enemy fighters, the small craft was crippled deliberately and is flying virtually out of control through the borders and into the next galaxy, the Pastarian System.

The arrival of a small number of Trevakian ships in orbit around earth signalled a change in fortunes for human forces, the new fighter presence attacking and proving superior to the Morgon air attack. Upon final destruction of the main Morgon vessel, earth’s peace is restored…for the time being at least…

Zaxon B has been occupied by the Trevakian Empire for a number of years, initially chosen as an outpost at the commencement of hostilities with the Morgons. Discovering valuable mineral assets and quickly moving mining personnel and equipment to the surface with the support of the local inhabitants, it was then decided to move military units to occupy the planet once suspicion was raised that the Silakian order in a small town was collaborating directly with the enemy. Perhaps there were more collaborators…

The planet itself is relatively barren, jagged rock formation and sweeping winds covering the surface, a low bitter temperature the norm, with limited seasons. The few water and forest formations are heavily polluted, the low oxygen levels in the grim atmosphere inducing life to struggle for survival. Vast mountain ranges and uninhabited gorges cover over sixty percent of the planet, the remaining surface sparsely populated and consisting of only one major city supplemented with numerous small villages and hamlets. The main capital, Morasat, growing considerably with Trevakian investment and deployment.

As the war escalated and began to swing in the Morgon’s favour, the garrisoned soldiers on the inhospitable planet formed militia battalions amongst the miners and new civilian inhabitants. The Trevakian planetary commander realising they were unlikely to receive any considerable support from military forces stretched across two galaxies. Defensive positions were chosen and excavated, the troops fully aware of the danger they faced in such a remote location at the far end of this galaxy.

The deployment of a space station above the atmosphere bolstered morale, the enormous structure, Alexion One, well-armed and complimented with several companies of elite infantry, refitting from the attrition of the battles further across space. With the instructions of the Trevakian High Counsel, the transporter on the space station was put into service to transfer the injured and shattered units to a relatively quiet part of the war, allowing them to recover and train new recruits. With its advanced covert operational equipment, it was also destined to be a listening and message interception station, given valuable time to break through codes and scrambled military communications intercepted from the enemy.

Intelligence personnel accompanied the new equipment and station, establishing offices and operations on the surface to accompany the new recruits, refitting soldiers and units.

More and more abandoned mining facilities and mineral veins were gradually uncovered, the Trevakians beginning to realise that they may have stumbled upon suspicious activities…or signs of a forgotten civilisation. The need for supplies across the empire pushing reservations and curiosity to one side as the structures were reopened to serve an economy struggling to transform to a more military footing.

As alarms began to sound in the space station, the realisation that Morgon attention had moved to their small outpost on the flanks became apparent. Several warning signals were sent, then jamming commenced…the space station and inhabitants on the planet receiving no further word from the main empire other than a communication promising potential reinforcements…from a newly discovered ally.

As Morgon dropships flew to the surface in heavy numbers, their troops dispersing across the barren surface, enemy fighters probed the space station’s defences, proving no match for the highly armed and experienced crew.

The eventual arrival of Morgon Decimator Warships into the orbit moved the battle dramatically forward…the situation deteriorating considerably. The time for heroes is now…