of power
flooded the room as huge generators were forced, coerced into action. A
lower hum flowed around the control chamber and every man turned to the
white large door, every man with his hand in salute - every man ready...
The man that
entered was nearly seven feet tall, and his long blonde hair was raked
across his scalp into a long, twisting ponytail that terminated at his
waist. He had a patch over his left eye and a jagged scar raced across
his face to finish at the base of his neck. The long black cloak
finished the picture as the man stood still, soaking up the salutes and
admiration as a sponge does water.
Commander Kayj
glanced at the assembled group and bellowed, 'Get back to work! There is
a war going on if you hadn't noticed!' The men scurried like sewer rats
to their consoles.
A small man
called Gaust walked up to Kayj and gave a sharp salute. Kayj swung round
on him, as though pestered by an insistent fly. 'What is it, soldier?'
he asked, a sigh lingering around his lips as he spoke. Gaust handed him
a sheet of green plastic with various figures punched in it.
'We have located Mok's platoon, sir.' Gaust waited for a reply from his leader.
Kayj looked
slowly skywards and shouted 'Excellent! The ones who have evaded us for
so long have met their terminus!' He stared at Gaust. 'Give the order,
soldier. Give the order to melt them.'
Gaust turned to
the nearest console and activated the communications link. 'Attention -
top priority one from Commander Kayj - prime and activate the MP's ' The
order echoed and hung in the air - Kayj stood and smiled. The Melt Pods
had been the embryo that he spawned - they were his infant, his child.
Yes, Mok and his scum were in for a shock...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mok urged his
men on, bellowing at them, making them stand straight, marching them at a
seemingly break-neck speed for ones so weary. Hite implored his Chief
for another brief rest to allow then men, Rittle in particular, the
chance to recuperate. Mok turned deaf and barked even louder. They would
get to that rendezvous point, even if the men died in the attempt.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
he
troop of soldiers continued their relentless journey over the pitted,
rutted and dead land. Every man was tired, dirty and a long way from
home - a long way from civilisation - a long way from the places where
men don't need gas-diffusion masks, identical uniforms and twenty rounds
a second rifles.
