July 11, 2187
Prill scanned his surroundings, his boots sinking softly into the muted muddy road. Melancholy clouds dominated the sky, tainted dim with smoke. His eyes darted to each dark window in the town square. At any moment, a gun could fire, a grenade to be thrown, an enemy to charge. His finger hovered over the rifle's trigger in apprehension. He pointed the weapon around the corner, lunging out. He found himself alone, the shelled ruins of the town deserted. It was quiet, too quiet. He walked back, gesturing for the other units to follow with caution.
"Corporal Jerrok," he called.
His friend rushed to him.
"We'll set up base here," he informed his inferior, "put your scouts on the top of those buildings. I don't want-"
The scream of a rocket cut him off, ramming into the tank behind them in an ear piercing explosion. The hover craft lurched from the blast, the adjacent brick building crumbling on top of the dented remains of the vehicle. A bullet collided with his friend, sending him to the ground.
The town square erupted in fire, bolts flying from broken windows and holes in the wall. Prill kicked down the wooden door, pulling his shot comrade inside. He muttered in a dazed state, the pain clouding his consciousness. Prill dragged Jerrok to the back of the room, out of the line of fire. He smashed the front window, aiming his rifle out and shooting at the openings of the buildings across the court yard, at any origin of enemy fire. A few bodies fell from the windows, others hung from the edges or toppled back.
Prill yelled at the remnants of his squad, barking commands to hold their position and take cover. The firestorm died down. Eventually all was quiet. Prill crouched out of the cover, glass crunching beneath his boots. He exited the building.
"Status, Private?"
"Eight wounded, six dead."
"Radiohead," he called. The soldier stepped forward.
"Air support and reinforcements are on their way, sir."
"Good," he muttered, "good." Prill turned to the private.
"How many snipers?"
The soldier rushed into the courtyard with caution, his weapon jumping tactically from window to window, body to body. Standing on the center fountain, his eyes glazed over the fallen bodies.
"Four civilians," he called back, "and seven P'Shari."
Prill shook his head. His losses were too great. He walked over to the other men. "Radiohead, Buckly, Doc, stay here. We'll set up med field and treat the wounded. The rest of you split up into pairs. Sweep each building. Round up any civilians. Shoot anyone who resists."
"Yes sir."
"Move out."
* * *
The gunmetal sky blushed with sunset, their shadows casting far like lengthy nightmarish figures. Outside, the soldiers found thirty civilians, all colonists from Nevra Prime.
Prill leaned over Jerrok, responding to his weak call.
He breathed heavily."T- Tell Peppa that I-"
YOU ARE READING
Astray Among The Stars
Science FictionNovember 17, 2197. Mission: Day 1503. The teen raced down the alien passage way, sizzling plasma bolts flying past him. He ducked and dodged, running like a wounded and hunted animal. He had to escape. He had to find the others before it was too lat...
