Michael Thomas - Gates of Cilicia

“Get to the pillars!” shouted Xenophon, instantly recognising the benefit the cover could provide. He rolled low and stabbed at the nearest Mulac. His Laconian weapon proved its worth and punched neat holes into the alien’s armour plating. Two more Mulacs spotted his success and jumped over to deal with him.

“I don’t think so!” he snapped and lifted both hands. The built-in carbines proved their worth and cut the Mulacs down in a hail of armour piercing projectiles.

Glaucon lifted himself from the ground and angrily barged himself into the wall. It was a savage and painful way to set his arm, but it worked. He grabbed a fallen Mulac’s mace and rushed into the middle of the melee. His skills, speed and strength quickly told as he felled the nearest two Mulacs. The remaining warriors in the rest of the level now met, and a sprawling melee spread throughout the structure. With roughly equal numbers, it came down to the speed and experience of the Terrans versus the strength, violence and brutality of the Mulacs.

Glaucon and Xenophon pushed as far ahead as they could but were stopped by the remaining Mulacs who blocked their route to the columns, and the prize that lay behind it. Xenophon used the last of his ammunition to cut down two more Mulacs, but there were enough the fill the gap.

“We have to get through!” he cried out.

One of the stratiotes fell near Glaucon’s feet, a Mulac landing on top and smashing away with a mace. Glaucon kicked the beast over and brought his own weapon down on its face. Blood sprayed up and hit him in the forehead and eyes. He twisted and spluttered.

“I know, get through. I’ll keep them busy.”

He lifted his mace high and roared with every ounce of strength he could muster. The surviving stratiotes fought their way to him to form a close knot of defenders. Gunfire continued, but in this level of close proximity, most of the firearms were discarded once their magazines had run dry. Glaucon extended his arms and rushed the nearest Mulacs. He took a round in the shoulder as he charged, but it was enough to force them to the ground and create a small opening in their line.

“Now!” he cried as he struck the hard stone floor. Xenophon didn’t hesitate and ran forward, throwing himself over and into the open space behind him. In a flash, he was past the pillars and in amongst the cables, machines and computers. It was the control centre of the mountain, and the source of the pulsing red weapon. He looked up at the flashing red lights of the great machine, and then down to the only weapons that remained, his two Laconian Asgeirr-Carbines.

What the hell can I do now? He looked around for any sign of a way to shut the equipment down. He could see a main computer display and system at the end of the room. It was on a raised pedestal with optical cables running from behind it and into the system.

That has it be it. Otherwise, we’ll just have to bring this entire place to the ground. He lifted his arms up to shoot, but nothing happened, only the click of the empty chambers.

“That’s just great!” he muttered angrily.

“You, now you die!” came a familiar voice from behind. He ducked to the right and spun around to find the leader of the Mulacs confronting him. In his left arm he held the still body of Glaucon. A pang of fear ran down his spine at the sight of the monster that had bested his friend. It was stronger, faster and more powerful than him in every way.

He looked down at his inert weapons, and for a second felt a very real sense of despair. If it beat Glaucon, what will I be able to do?

He lifted his head and stared at the face of his enemy. Behind him, the surviving warriors on both sides continued their death struggle. The stratiotes gave as good as they got, but it looked doubtful either side would win decisively. He looked back to the snarling Mulac and spotted the item strapped to the creature’s leg and smiled.

A plasma pistol! Now that is exactly what I need!

He pushed his left leg forward slightly and adopted a strong fighting stance. His left hand pulled close to his body in a punching gesture, but with the Laconian blade sticking out towards the Mulac. He lifted his right hand to the right of his face and extended the blade in the same direction as the first.

“You first, you bastard!” he shouted, and then ran forward.

The Mulac almost seemed to relish the challenged and looked down for a moment to see what it was Xenophon had been staring at. He must have worked it out, as he drew the pistol in his left had to fire. But it was too late, and Xenophon was already close enough to attack. His first slash caught the leader’s wrist and clanged off the armour. The pistol dropped away to the floor, leaving neither of them with a functioning firearm.

“Tissaphernes has plans for you!” he snarled, stomping forward, and at the same time swinging the mace. Xenophon lifted his hand to parry the blow, but the creature’s strength was too great, and he was pushed back.

Remember; use weakness against strength. He was reminded of Kratez’s teachings.

He relaxed his arm and sidestepped to the left. The Mulac stumbled past him, exposing his back and flank. Xenophon took the opportunity to jab hard into his ribs. The armour was thick, and it took all his strength to form the blade into his flesh. A loud roar of pain signalled he’d been successful. But the injury didn’t slow him down. On the contrary, it angered him and seemed to rejuvenate him into greater violence. With the blade stuck, Xenophon was in trouble. The Mulac spun around and grabbed him around the throat. His grip was like a vice, and in seconds, his vision started to blur.

Have to get my hand free.

He flicked the interior lock switches in the gauntlet and felt it loosen. With all his effort, he pushed hard and felt his hand slip out. His vision faded further until he could barely see the shape of the Mulac. His hearing was the last thing he could discern, and it was the Mulac’s voice that raged in his ear.

“Terrans are weak. We will burn your worlds next!”

He expected the end, but instead felt pain in his arm. His vision started to clear, and he stared up to find himself on the ground and looking at the figure of the Mulac on one knee. Stood next to him was Glaucon, blood dripping from a number of wounds. In his hand, he held one of the Mulac’s maces that ran thick with Mulac blood. Xenophon’s own blade was still stuck in the creature’s flank.

Glaucon swung it down hard, yet the wounded Mulac was still able to parry the attack with his left hand. Glaucon lifted the weapon again and pounded down, one after the other, each hit trying to beat through his defence. Xenophon however was starting to regain feeling in his body.

Get up, you fool!

He lifted up to one knee and almost fell back down. He looked to his right hand, but the blade had all but snapped off. He had no weapon, and Glaucon seemed unable to finish the beast off. Incredibly, the Mulac roared and started to lift up from the ground, its armour creaking as he moved.

Xenophon lurched forward and grabbed the Asgeirr-Carbine gauntlet that still hung from the Mulac. With a quick pull, the blade slid out. He didn’t hesitate and stabbed down into the Mulac’s neck. He managed three heavy stabs before the Mulac even realised what was happening. He turned to try and stop him, but it was too late. Glaucon rushed in, and with a final powerful blow, brought his mace down on the creature’s head. With a sickening crunch, the leader of the Mulacs fell in a lifeless heap.

The two stood like a pair of survivors of some terrible and bloody crime. Both were battered and bloody and barely able to stand. They turned back to help their comrades, but the surviving Mulacs were already running for one of the many archways to escape.