Daniel Klein

Seven new recruits, fresh out of the Oblahomian Empire’s military academies, and a medic were assigned to a remote outpost on the jungle planet of Thez. The official dossier painted a sparse picture: a humid world dominated by dense forests and a single vast ocean. The forests were believed to be ancient by the current team of researchers that were studying the planet. In regards to the trees, and more important to the aims of the Empire, the dense vegetation indicated there were ample resources on the planet for crops to be harvested. 

The Oblahomian Empire, a dwindling force among the intergalactic governments, had recently lost the farming planet Lünenstern V to the conquest of the Association of Simulated Existences. The new leader of the A.S.E., as they were often referred to as via acronym, had a grand vision of transforming their capital into an Ecumenopolis. A nation that had previously existed as a singular, albeit ultra developed, planet now needed to expand outwards to match its ambition. The loss of the entire Lünenstern system had thrown one of the Galaxy’s oldest governments into disarray. The Oblahomian belief in the divinity of their realm was something necessarily upheld by victory. Every loss threw a wrench into the stability of an empire that otherwise enjoyed much tranquility in its lands.

Facing a crisis, Oblahomian leaders chose action over despair. They called upon their citizens to adapt and reignite the pioneering spirit that had once defined their nation’s rise. However, the facile rhetoric of restoring Oblahoma’s former glory yet needed to confront the arduous path required to achieve victory. An uncertain uphill battle remained for the Empire.

Within the Empire’s borders, the planet Thez had become a target for development. Though initially a low priority in the capital’s two-month-old reinvigoration project, Thez held the attention of a leading researcher. Based on atmospheric drone readings, he theorized that one of the planet’s native species could produce a potent medicine. Despite the Empire’s greater interest in food resources, the researcher, leveraging his considerable reputation, secured sponsorship for a Thez expedition. As part of the sponsorship, a detachment was to guard the research team and ensure the safety of the minor development planned around the spaceport.

The recruits were part of the mission, tasked with relieving soldiers due for leave. None had requested leave, but bureaucratic regulations ensured their rights were upheld. Four days aboard a cramped transport had carried them what felt like a vast distance from the Empire’s bustling heart. In reality, even the more direct routes across the galaxy took two years. Four days was comically short in the seriousness of the grand scale of the galaxy.

The transport shuddered as it landed in one of two hangars at a small, prefabricated spaceport – the only human presence on the planet. The V-23 transport was designed long ago and had served its purpose in carrying a small amount of troops a considerable distance quickly. It was a vehicle rarely used in times of war due to how weak its armor was in comparison to the newer ships. Accordingly, V-23s had earned the nickname of “Leave Carrier” among the warriors often ecstatic to see its arrival. 

Thirty soldiers were assigned in total. The new arrivals were merely there to swap and to bolster. At least, that is why thought until they were briefed by the Colonel. The recruits, still green, were in for a sudden shock about the situation on the planet Thez.

Any uncertain speculation as how life would be here was soon remedied with certitude by the gruff voice of Colonel Urmanm. “Recruits! You’ve arrived just in time. There is a situation on the planet, if you are not yet aware,” he barked. The recruits, like high command, were not yet aware of any issue. They were all under the impression that their assignment was to be something more appropriate for a recruit to get adjusted to military life. The four days of travel and anticipation dissolved into a surprising reality. With a mix of nervous excitement and trepidation, the recruits assembled in a line, their military careers about to begin.

Colonel Urmanm, a veteran with weary eyes and a face etched with the lines of command and stress, paced before them. He clarified the situation, “we are in an active combat engagement with indigenous creatures. A cadre of beasts have been routinely attacking our settlement with extreme effectiveness.” 

Colonel Urmann was no fool. He knew even the best recruits wouldn’t entirely trust their commander’s judgment immediately. He felt an explanation was in order, hoping to inspire confidence and thus, more effective fighting. “Textbook tactics call for separating the spaceport from the main defensive line, creating a fallback position,” he explained. “But circumstances have overtaken us. We can only manage a perimeter right outside the door. This grim reality, however, is no excuse for disobedience. Trust me to handle the strategy. Your job is to follow orders.”

His pacing wasn’t just for show. He was calculating the best way to deploy his limited forces. Truthfully, the good Colonel should have figured out how he was organize his men long before the shuttle arrived, but he was yet uncertain whether they were to come at all. The message he had sent to high command of extreme distress had yet to be responded too. The tactic his enemy was to employ was almost certainly be an assault designed to overwhelm. The recruits’ inexperience was a liability. He needed a balance of raw numbers and seasoned fighters to have a hope of morale holding. “Medic Volkov,” he commanded, “you’re with the first two recruits on the right flank. You will exit through the door only on my signal. A counter-charge might turn the tide.” Anya, the only woman among the military personnel, nodded curtly and moved to her position with the two nervous recruits. Her rank of sergeant was a product of the combat she had seen combat in the tail-end of the short war between the Oblahomian Empire and the A.S.E. Colonel Urmann trusted her to not falter in fear when hearing the noises of combat on the other side of the wall.

The Colonel’s tiredness was palpable. While he demanded obedience, he also felt a deep responsibility for his men’s survival. He cared for them greatly, but was beginning to worry that with the conflict lasting too long his mind was beginning to fail.

“The rest of you,” Urmann continued, addressing the remaining five, “you’re on the front line. Check your gear. There’s no time for repairs and there is no time for me to help you get things straight.” He rubbed his temples, a rare external display of fatigue. He could only pray their equipment was in good order. “Put your helmets on now to ensure your armor’s cooling units are running at full capacity as soon as possible. I estimate we have about half an hour before the next wave. To your posts, double time! I wish I could escort you myself, but I need to consult with your pilot.” 

The recruits’ initial sense of calm was being quickly replaced by a sense of unease. They all had wondered, but were too scared to ask, whether they heard Urmann right when he said “beasts.” The spaceport door, outlined in a pulsating green light, hissed open as they approached, revealing a ramp leading down to the alien world.

The jungle loomed just forty yards away, a wall of towering trees that blotted out the horizon. Though the spaceport’s immediate perimeter had been cleared, the untamed forest felt oppressive. Strange, unidentifiable plants speckled the undergrowth, a seemingly mundane sight compared to the glowing blue vines that snaked across the upper branches of the trees. From the battle line, these vines appeared to crackle with electricity, leaping from tree to tree. Venturing into that wilderness seemed impossible without a dedicated path and a well-defined plan.

The hastily constructed defensive line, a semi-circle of crumbling sandbags, lay thirty yards from the forest’s edge. Some sandbags were gouged with deep claw marks. Scattered before the line were the charred remains of creatures, too badly burned to offer any clear indication of what the attackers really looked like.

Each recruit took their position behind the sandbags, their energy rifles raised, their senses on high alert. The waiting began.

Deep within the jungle, a pack of Thezian beasts gathered. These quadrupedal creatures were jet black, save for a fiery red mane that ran down their backs. Their jaws were filled with razor-sharp teeth, perfect for tearing up any living thing that had the nerve to cross the beast . In spite of the planet’s oppressive heat, their thick fur was incongruous. Unbeknownst to the soldiers, the spaceport’s artificial coolness was a beacon for the beasts. Their primitive religion prophesied the coming of a great coolness, a gift from the heavens, and they believed it was theirs alone. This belief coupled with their keen ability to detect heat, or lack thereof, drove their relentless attacks.

Their leader, King Rawls, was one of the most cunning and ambitious beasts of the species had seen. He was destined to be revered in their history. In the language of the Thezian Beasts Rawls name meant “he who deceives all but his wife.” Their language was admittedly simple. The beasts communicated in loud, chilling howls, a mix of tactical discussion and religious fervor. The beasts only needed their language to hunt their prey, and, sparingly, praise a place cool enough to lay down in. 

The soldiers huddled behind their flimsy defenses, and were only capable of interpreting the howls as a prelude to violence. Rawls prepared his forces with a call to reach the promised land. Through the common spiritual ambition, he had united several tribes under his banner. The king  was ready to claim the coolness as his gift to his people. A gift that he hoped would propel himself to immortality. The general strategy was simple, overwhelm the enemy with numbers. The prophetic nature of their assignment drove the beasts to become willing martyrs.

Among the human defenders were two veteran officers: Lieutenant Vanders, a portly man whose experiences were weighing as heavily upon on him as the meat on his bones. Sergeant Mallory was a solider lean and sharp. He had never wanted to be a soldier, but had found himself always reenlisting. Perhaps, in his mind, he owed it to a system that had been good to him. He typically enjoyed meeting new blood, but now was not the occasion to take much joy in anything. Mallory, sensing the recruits’ fear, tried to lighten the mood. “What are your names, soldiers?” he called out over the helmet comms.

“L.W. Hausteller,” one recruit responded.

“L.W.? Stands for?” Mallory asked.

“Lawrence Willem,” Hausteller replied. Sergeant Mallory knew that the names were both in honor of legendary heroes of the empire. “Welcome to the front line, soldier,” Mallory said, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. This place here was neither a front, nor a real line. This was a last stand if there ever was one.

Vanders cut off the opportunity of the others to provide introduction by pointing towards the forest. “When the howling stops,” he said grimly, “the attack will begin soon thereafter. Expect a silence that is only interrupted by the crackling of the trees.”

Hausteller wondered why they weren’t defending the spaceport door itself, but was unwilling to speak with being first spoken to. He thought it must be a pitiful way to die if there was no good reason for not holding the bottleneck .The veterans knew the reason for Urmann’s tactical decision. Retaking the bottleneck would be quite difficult for the soldiers to do. Further, the Colonel held out hope to restore functionality to the spaceports automated turrets. Still, if the beasts breached that line, they would be overrun. Why Colonel Urmanm hadn’t called for reinforcements or sounded the alarm baffled Hausteller, but his discipline kept him from voicing his concerns. Hausteller knew his place was to follow orders.

Simultaneous to Hausteller’s worried analysis of the situation, Urmanm and the pilot were in a desperate race against time. The Colonel had a risky plan: cannibalize parts from the transport ship to repair the damaged turrets. The argument had been intense, but the pilot finally relented against his better judgment of dismantling the one way off this planet.

Twenty minutes passed. The howling ceased and the beasts emerged. What began as a distant gallop transformed into a terrifying sprint as soon as the creatures were confident they could reach their enemies at full speed. The charge froze two recruits in terror. The others opened fire, their energy rifles spitting bolts of light across the battlefield. It would have been quite a pretty sight if only the display did not end in death. The air was  filled with the screams of dying Thezian beasts. The veterans appeared to be used to the sound by now, but really the recruits were just unaware that their helmet was able to cancel out designated noises. The sheer number of attackers was overwhelming and quickly the beasts were gaining ground.

King Rawls had organized his forces into a diamond formation, aiming to shatter the center of the human line. A hundred massive creatures were still charging, their eyes burning with primal fury. Chaos erupted as the beasts slammed into the sandbags. Vanders’ last words before hell broke loose, “Don’t surrender! They show no mercy!”

The sandbags offered little resistance ultimately. The beasts, now within striking distance, lashed out with claws and teeth. The first casualty was one of the frozen recruits, caught by a beast jumping over the sandbag. The human line buckled soon after the first casualties. The soldiers were forced to retreat to gain enough room to fire their weapons.

Rawls sauntered across the plain far behind the battle. He was a king; a planner, and a deceiver. Fighting he thought was generally beneath him. He was sensing that this was, perhaps, the moment of victory he had been desiring for the greater part of two weeks. The King, becoming more certain of the outcome, gave a mighty roar for his reserves to engage in the battle. The soldiers hope of the beasts thinning in number was dashed by a fresh new wave. 

Hausteller, now among the last eight survivors, found himself alongside the officers and a few other veterans, retreating towards the spaceport ramp. The beasts, using the bodies of their fallen comrades as cover, halted their attack momentarily.

The door illuminated green and once more opened. The counter charge organized by Colonel Urmann was revealed with the two soldiers eager to continue the fight. The medic Volkov beckoned them forward as was hoped for by the Colonel. The momentum lasted but a minute until they too realized that stepping any farther left them open to greater attack by the beasts. Their initial surge faltered as the futility of the situation set in.

A beast slashed at Lieutenant Vanders, wounding him in the arm. The standard dark gray Oblahomian armor had ensured the laceration was not too deep. Still the pain was debilitating and the lieutenant slumped down on the ramp. Hausteller, firing his rifle with one hand, tried to drag the lieutenant towards the door with the other. Mallory pounded the metal exterior of the spaceport, desperate for escape. All seemed lost and there was truly no other option but to retreat into the interior. They still had enough men to hold the door for awhile.

Then, a welcome sound emerged. The turrets, miraculously repaired, sprang to life, unleashing a barrage of laser fire among all of the beasts in front of them. The sudden appearance of the turrets, coupled with the devastating energy blasts, sent the remaining beasts into a panicked rout.

Colonel Urmanm opened the door, and the battered survivors stumbled back into the spaceport. For a moment, none of them had truly believed that there was a path to survival. In the end, ten men remained after the assault.