Slayer's Vengeance

by Jago-Dakari

A meeting between a yautja huntress and a human marine turned vengefull slayer will shake the very foundation of both races in this story of adventure, love and loss.

26. Chapter 25

Hey my devoted fans.

I finally got this chapter finished as much as I could so I can get to the comeback chapter. I am hoping to get the next chapter done this month as a Christmas gift for you all.

I have finalised the chosen cameos from the lack of answers given, despite some blatantly obvious references, and I am including one author whose story I am fervently following. I hope that your parts in the story is going to be enjoyable, especially as it is one thing that A:CM denied us. GODDAMN YOU,GEARBOX!

but anyway, in this chapter the colony set their escape plan into motion. But, as we all know what happens when xenomoprhs are involved, nothing is ever going to go to plan. especially since these bugs are of a bygone era.

So, as always, read away and leave me a comment in the box, update status' are to be PM's, and maybe a constructive criticism or two.

I'll see you in the next chapter.

---

Chapter 25- Exodus.

In the colony's operations room, captain Kabowski stood before the assembled group before him. The remnant of the colony's leadership was gathered for this meeting. Foreman Hernandez and Sergeant Kelso, who had regained consciousness and was now more heavily bandaged then usual, were at the front. Archangel Dubois was next to the mauled sergeant tending to his bandages and dressings. Other marines and colonists were around, waiting for the meeting to begin. They were the main drivers for the evacuation convoy. The rest of the archangels were not attending as they were busy doing what they needed to do, be it readying the vehicles or checking their gear. They already knew the plan.

Looking the odd one out, Mal'fax was standing beside Andrzej, arms crossed.. No doubt he was representing his friends in this matter and also to prevent any conflict between them and the colony. He was heavily clad in a combination of armour plating and insulating material, no doubt fashioned for the journey ahead. His hammer was holstered on his back.

"Now, you all understand why this meeting has been called." Andrzej said to the assembly. "The final preparations are being carried out and within the hour, we will be abandoning the colony."

He let that sink in, hearing the assembled colonists murmur at the idea of leaving this location. Evidently, some were reluctant to leave the relative safety of the colony.

"We have been assessing all of our options, taking into account our current condition, those of this planet and those of the bugs stalking us."Andrzej continued. "And this is what we have come up with."

He then pressed a button on the central holo-table. A rough image projected up, distorted and grainy. After some adjustments, and a kick from his boot, Andrzej focused the projection clearly. It was an orbital map showing an area of the planet. The colony's location was indicated by a green symbol located in a massive mountain range. And there was another symbol, indicating a space-port, some distance away on a mountain plateau.

"There is a landing zone where the cruisers that brought the colonists are berthed." he indicated, pointing to the relevant symbol. "It's located on this plateau over twenty miles west from the colony, in a secure hanger occupying a natural cave formation.

"How do you know the bugs haven't already trashed the ships?" a marine asked.

"The ships are in a secure location, information of which was made known only on authorisation of the evacuation order. BY the administrator or by Spec Ops operatives." Foreman Hernadez explained. "And the only way into it is through a bulkhead that's over ten feet of solid rock and reinforced steel."

"Thank you for that observation." Andrzej praised.

He focused back on the holo-table.

"The only way to get to them is to get to the surface and attempt to navigate our way there along this route." he continued, reaching for a holo-pen. "This is the quickest and least dangerous route that we had time to pick and analyse."

He then pointed out the route on the holo-map, tracing a glowing line along a certain pass, across a vast snowy plain in the base of a valley before finishing up at another mountainous area with the aforementioned plateau.

"Now as you can see, the route is fairly straightforward, literally and figuratively." he said, placing the pen back down.

"We can't stick to the tunnels?" a colonist asked.

"The tunnels have not been mapped fully beyond the surroundings of the colony and the refinery." Foreman Hernandez pointed out. "If we take a wrong turn anywhere, we could get lost, fall down a ravine or worse... ending up right in the bugs' claws."

"Well, how do you know that those bugs aren't just laying in wait for us on the surface?" a marine questioned. "Those fuckers know ambushing like the back of their claws."

Andrzej indicated the route over the plain before adjusting the view. Switching to a scan image, it was revealed that underneath the snow was a flat rock formation, evidence of past tectonic activity, and it wasn't that deep under the snow, maybe one to two metres at most.

"Geo-phys surveys taken before the colony was established revealed a rock formation that leads most the way there. And the snow in that area is too shallow for those bugs to hide in. Plus, it should allow us to gain some ground in swift time. And that means more distance from them."

"Still, this is just sketchy." the marine said.

"This whole planet is sketchy." another marine reminded.

"With a bit of luck, those bugs won't venture out of the caves, their biggest strength." Andrzej hoped. "All that open space won't work to their advantage. Plus, we'll have the advantage of a clear view."

This gained some murmurs of approval. Xenomorphs were not the type to venture out in the open unless they had numbers on their side, preferring to stay in the shadows of structures and dense vegetation. Using their natural affinity for stealth and adaptation to their advantage.

"Now, I won't lie to any of you." Andrzej admitted to them. "This is an enormous risk that we are taking but it is our only viable course of action." he then changed the holotables image to that of a surface camera showing the snowfall of the surface. " This clear weather isn't going to last forever. Trying to escape when the blizzards return is suicide. We would being frozen solid before we even reach the halfway point."

"What's more, our supply situation is incredibly bleak." Andrzej added. "We only have enough supplies and manpower to attempt this once, we'll never have another crack at this. And I won't even mention the lack of toilet paper."

"Tell me about it, we had to use the last of the playboy magazines." a marine spoke up.

A few snickers were heard from that joke. Especially the edition involving the 'Arcturian Pin-up'.

"Well, thank you for that info." Andrzej said, with a mild touch of awkwardness before focusing back on the task at hand. "As I was saying, We have only one shot at this plan to succeed."

"Our other option?" Foreman Hernandez asked.

"Sitting around here, waiting to die when those supplies run out." Andrzej bluntly revealed. "And doing nothing is far worse then doing something."

Kelso at that point let out a sharp hiss through his teeth as Sarah tightened the bandage on his back. Even after all the painkillers running through his veins, he was still uncomfortable. Especially in his lower back where that spiral of shrapnel came close to making him bleed out like a sieve.

"Sergeant Kelso, are you sure you should be up?" Andrzej asked.

The sergeant pointed toward his heavily bandaged head. The amount of damage he had sustained throughout the entire crisis was astonishing. Almost all of his head was bandaged, save for his mouth, nose and his one determined eye. In fact, he was starting to look more like a bloodier version of the Invisible Man.

"I already had the worst day of my life, those bugs can't make it any worse." he bluntly declared before hissing as Sarah finished tightening his bandage. "Well, except the medic of course." he turned to the archangel in question. "No offence."

"None taken." Sarah replied, working on the bandages on Kelso's arm.

"If that is all, this meeting is adjourned." Andrzej finished. "Finish what you have to do and we're leaving."

But then there was one detail that was suddenly brought up.

"One thing. What are we going to do about that?" a marine at the front questioned, pointing to Mal'fax.

Mal'fax lowered his arms at the indication of being called a thing. He, as current events proved, was now a full blooded hunter, not a 'What'.

"They're coming with us." Andrzej reminded. "They helped us out so far."

"Well, that guy with the axes is no longer with us." the marine pointed out. "Wasn't he the only reason they're still here?"

Andrzej straightened his shoulders at the mention of Alaric. It wasn't a secret that Alaric was missing and presumed dead.

"Regardless, they are under my squad's jurisdiction and Alaric is... was part of the squad." Andrzej stated.

"I say leave them for the bugs. They'll slow them down anyway to give us some distance." the marine decided rather callously.

"And give them a predalien or two while we're at it?" Sarah pointed out.

Some of the other marines murmured at the prospect of having to fight a hybrid. Even if they have never fought a hybrid in their life, the mere thought of fighting one was enough to discourage even the most gung-ho marine.

"If those things are bad enough with a human host, I dread to think what a predator host would give." Sarah continued. "We're barely able to stand against the ones they've got already."

"I've seen one of those things up close once. On LV-1004." a marine, sporting a glowing cybernetic eye, spoke up. "Fucking thing took out nearly two squads before we managed to kill it. I was lucky my eye was the only thing I lost."

Some other marines added their experiences, each involving much death and destruction.

"And do you really want to fight one of those bugs up close when you run out of ammo?"Andrzej added. "Because a knife isn't going to do much good. Maybe you could give it a nick or two before before it punches through your head?"

He then gestured to Mal'fax to illustrate his importance.

"They may be just new hunters but if any of us is going to survive, the only way is together." he stated. "They are the only ones who can go toe-to-toe with those bugs."

"Bullshit!" the marine objected. "Look what happened to Topazini and Giles. They'll take our heads the first chance they get!"

Andrzej at that point walked up to the marine, before grabbing him by the neck. Before the marine could react, Andrzej expertly knocked the marine's legs out from under him and manhandled him up to Mal'fax. He was intending to prove a point as the marine struggled futilely and the assembly reacted to this show with a mixture of surprise and hushed anticipation.

"Fancy a souvenir?" Andrzej asked Mal'fax encouragingly, restraining the marine with his neck exposed. "Go on, chop his head off. He's right here."

Mal'fax looked down at the marine, cocking his head as if he was toying with the thought. He gave the marine a quick once-over, drawing a talon across the marines neck before shaking his head. He made a gesture that meant 'too small'.

"Remember this." Andrzej told the marine as Mal'fax stepped back to where he was standing. "If they wanted your head, they would've taken it already."

With that, he let go of the marine before shoving him off to the assembly, watching the soldier tumble into a heap before picking himself up sharply and scrambling back to the others.

"This meeting is adjourned." Andrzej called authoritatively. "Get to your vehicles and prepare."

The assembly dispersed, muttering things like how this is a bad idea or they should've applied for that agricultural colony posting back home. Andrzej switched off the holo-table and walked off with Mal'fax in tow.

Andrzej turned to his medic who now finished her treatment on the grizzled sergeant.

"Well, that's as good as it's going to get." Sarah said, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. "I advise you avoid strenuous movement for the time being. I don't want your sutures to tear again."

Kelso turned to her as she put her gloves back on.

"I doubt I'll be avoiding any strenuous movement if the bugs have their way." Kelso pointed out.

"Where's Hicks?" Andrzej asked his medic.

"He's sleeping." Sarah asked, putting her kit away in her pack.

"Well, then I'll have to go and wake him." Andrzej decided.

With that, Andrzej walked off to retrieve his gunner. Mal'fax followed suit with Kelso and Sarah in tow.

---

Hicks in the meantime was resting on a propped chair against the wall, arms crossed with his head down on his chest and breathing lightly. His smartgun was laying on a table surrounded by cleaning tools, servo harness, his helmet and a drum of ammunition, no doubt being tended to for the journey. There was also another weapon, likely a carbine or something that size, kept inside a large leather holster. Several marines were standing around him, trying to rouse the slumbering archangel.

And they were dumbfounded that Hicks was not responding to the stimulus. They tried shaking him, shouting right in his ear and now they started resorting to more direct methods. Hicks wasn't waking up from the rough juggling of the shoulders, his head rocking around, so a marine decided for a more blunt awakening.

"Hey Archangel, wake up!" the marine demanded, slapping Hicks about the face.

Hicks' head rolled around for a moment, swinging to a stop and he only gave out a light sigh in response.

"I think you just knocked him out." the other marine said.

"Knocked out?" the marine questioned. "If he wasn't breathing, I'd think he was dead."

Andrzej and co entered at that point. And the captain was less then pleased to see one of his squad being treated in this manner.

"What are you doing?" Andrzej demanded, walking up to the marines. "Why are you slapping one of my troops?"

"Did Spec Ops start recruiting narcoleptics?" the offending marine marine questioned. "This guy is a fucking rock. We been trying to wake him for the last half hour."

"You won't wake him up like that." Andrzej revealed, stepping forward. "Out of the way."

Andrzej ushered them away from his sleeping gunnery officer. He walked up to Hicks, holding a hand in front of Hicks' sleeping face.

"Hicks, awaken." Andrzej commanded, snapping his fingers.

Hicks immediately woke up the moment his captain snapped his fingers, blinking a few times. He rubbed his eyes as he stood up, and his cheek too. He guessed what had happened.

"How long was I out?" he asked, not even yawning. "You know slapping doesn't work."

"An hour." Andrzej told Hicks, pointing a thumb at the marine who slapped him. "And that numb-nut is the one who slapped you."

Hicks took in his captain's answer and nodded before he took in how long he was asleep for.

"Is it that time already?" he said. "Christ, I haven't even got my stuff together."

Sarah was up to him, flashing a light into his eyes to check his ocular reflex.

"I'm fine." he said, brushing her off and walking to the table with his gear on.

One of the marines pointed at Hicks with disbelief on his face. The other marine wasn't as abrupt as the first but was still surprised.

"I don't believe it." the pointing marine said in both disbelief and disgust. "One of the angels is a Zip-Head."

Hicks head shot towards the marine who said that.

"What did you say?!" Hicks demanded.

Andrzej was quick to whisk Hicks away from his smartgun.

"Hicks, ignore him." Andrzej ordered firmly, motioning Hicks away.

"Philips, let it go." the other marine warned his comrade. "The guy is a Spec Ops trooper."

Phillips on the other had no intention of letting it go. He shook off his comrade and paced right up to Hicks.

"I applied for Spec Ops and they rejected me. Yet, they admit a fucking Zip-Head?!" Phillips fumed.

Faster then anyone predicted, Hicks decked the marine with one vicious armoured punch to the face. And before Phillips hit the deck, Hicks had drawn his falchion and was straddled over the marine with the blade to the soldier's neck.

"Say it to my face, I dare you!" Hicks goaded, pressing the blade into the marines throat.

The marine held his nose, which had blood seeping from it, and his eyes were wide as the curved tip of the falchion starting to prod at his neck. Sarah and Andrzej was quick to restrain Hicks from going further, grabbing him by shoulders and hauling him back. Andrzej got himself between a resisting Hicks and Phillips.

"That's enough!" Andrzej commanded.

"Hicks, it's not worth it." Sarah pleaded, holding him back.

Hicks shook them off as Phillips was helped up by his comrade, holding his bleeding nose. Hicks gripped his sword so hard that his knuckles cracked. He breathed deeply before sheathing his weapon.

"Bullshit." Hick growled before walking off to gather his things.

Phillips rubbed his nose, seeing his blood on his gloved fingers.

"For a Zip-Head, you hit like a pussy." Phillips jeered, rubbing that word in some more.

Faster then anyone could have predicted hicks had grabbed his smartgun from the table and aimed it one handed at Phillips' head, the barrel just an inch from his face. The fact that Hicks was holding it with one outstretched hand and not showing any strain showed Phillips that hicks was a lot stronger then he looked. But the marine noticed one crucial thing missing.

"Look at that, Zippy forgot to load his gun." Phillips mockingly pointed out.

That was when they heard a pistol cocking and, much to everyone's surprise, Andrzej had his pistol pointed at the marine's head. Andrzej was evidently losing his patience with this infighting. Much to the point where he felt tempted to invoke a certain... order.

"Don't tell me your a Zip-Sympathiser?" Phillips said in disgust.

Andrzej at that point grabbed Phillips by the throat before kicking his legs out from under him. Phillips struggled but he was quickly and thoroughly restrained in an armlock. A run-of-the-mill marine was no match for a seasoned Spec Ops officer.

Phillips wasn't feeling so cocky now.

"I am warning you. If you interfere with my squad again." the Archangels captain firmly warned, pressing the barrel to the marine's temple and pulling the hammer back. "I will execute you myself. Now, GET BACK to your vehicle!"

He then pistol whipped Phillips hard over the head, splitting his scalp before shoving the marine away with his boot. Phillips went crashing into a stack of crates, holding his head with blood seeping through his fingers.

The marines took this as cue to leave. Phillips gave Hicks, who was still aiming his smartgun, one last venomous leer before walking off holding his nose and head, Andrzej keeping his sidearm aimed at him. His marine comrade followed suit, making show that he didn't want anything else to do with this incident. Kelso apologised for his marine's behaviour to which Andrzej merely holstered his pistol.

Spec Ops were given authorisation to perform summery... discipline when the need arises. And only as a last resort if it interfered with their mission.

"You two get to your vehicles!" Kelso shouted, following his troopers. "Save it for the bugs!"

Despite his current state, Kelso showed no signs of relinquishing command yet. He even gave a Phillips a smack over his bloody head, yelling at him for disrupting the peace. This led to some bickering about Zip-heads taking up all the best jobs and other such nonsense.

When they were out of earshot, Hicks slammed his smartgun hard onto the table with a loud crash, scattering some of his things. He held his face in exasperation, letting out a frustrated groan as he slumped back down in his chair.

"Bastards, every single one of them." he fumed through his teeth.

The truth behind Hicks was a rather personal one. And that was he didn't get his higher intelligence naturally. Hicks was an unintended result from an addiction to Xeno-Zip.

Xeno-Zip was the name giving to a highly potent and highly addictive drug, originally created by the Grant Corporation, that was derived from the royal jelly of xenomorph queen mothers, the highest tier of the xenomorph hierarchy. In the aftermath of the xenomorph infestation of Earth when the xenomorphs were finally eradicated from the human homeworld, the royal jelly left in the hives provided the basis for the drug, which can enhance virtually any biological function of the human who ingests it. It could enhance the muscle and circulatory systems, resulting in greater strength and stamina. And it could also enhance the users mental capacity, enabling them to remember the smallest of details and solve complex equations in a matter of seconds, regardless if they had prior education or not. The effects were different on each user, no two results are often the same.

However, there is a major flaw. And that was the best results could only be attained from pure, natural royal jelly. Royal jelly had been successfully synthesised since the infestation but the results were anything but successful as synthetic jelly renders anyone who ingests it highly unstable to the state of complete and utter insanity and rage. Thus, there exists a thriving black market demand for the pure jelly, sending many a privateer ship to xenomorph hives. And many a world had been unintentionally infested as a result of it. And another critical flaw was the fact that xenomorphs, upon sensing a user of Xeno-Zip, would fall into a state of extreme frenzy and aggression and literally tear the user apart limb from limb, even when he has been reduced to a bloody stain on the floor. It has been theorised that due to the partially synthetic nature of the drug, the xenomorphs identify these users as being associated with a rival queen.

Despite the severe drawbacks, Xeno-Zip had certain use in dire emergencies and life-or-death situations. Even the Colonial Marines, as much as Federation law allows, utilise it for certain occasions, forming so-called 'Junkie Squads' comprised of troops who were best able to resist the... side effects of the drug.

Xeno-zip may enhance humans but the side effects from withdrawal were rife. It makes other traditional drugs such as cocaine and heroin look like a mild hangover by comparison. And the effects of those in pregnancy was even more terrible. The drug would interfere not only with the expectant mother but also the child that she is carrying. The results from such cases, depending on the amount of Xeno-Zip consumed over the gestation period, ranged from severe mental disabilities, dementia and insanity in the worst cases, crippling physical pain from sensory overload, sensitivity to light and sounds, the list just kept going.

Hicks was one such Xeno-Zip case as his mother had the misfortune of trying the drug during the early stage of his development, unknowing that she was pregnant at the time. However, Hicks got off lucky. He retained the high cognitive capabilities that Xeno-Zip can bestow but at the cost of acute insomnia. But, at least that could be treated relatively simply. Unfortunately, he had become a target of discrimination and harassment from those against the drug, those who envied his abilities and from mothers who question 'Why does my child suffer, but not him?'.

But, with such capabilities in high demand, Hicks quickly, and to the resentment of his fellow recruits, rose up through the ranks of the colonial marines and was inducted into the Archangels. His fast calculating mind, pilot and gunnery skills and electronics savvy proved invaluable to the squad.

However, this was not to say that the Federation actively supports such use of Xeno-Zip.

Mal'fax, through watching the commotion and seeing Hicks' reaction, realised that this had solved a nagging thought he had about the marine. His scent seemed...merged with that of the Xenomorphs. And he had heard of how humans developed a drug using royal jelly and had even seen a recording of one such individual. However, Hicks showed none of the traits that Xeno-Zip users show, especially when they're suffering from withdrawal.

And it was apparent to him that users, and those born affected by the drug, were discriminated against.

Sarah reached over to Hicks for comfort but Hicks swatted her away.

"I'm fine, just... give me a minute." Hicks demanded, waving his hand.

Andrzej looked up to Mal'fax.

"Gather your friends." he told the initiate. "We leave in five minutes."

Mal'fax nodded before walking off to gather his friends. Andrzej remained behind to get Hicks back in line. He would need his gunner for the journey ahead.

Mal'fax walked back to the hab where his friends were, adjusting his armour and watching the colonists finish last minute preparations. He and the rest of his group were kept busy by forging themselves new armour that was better suited for the climate on the surface. It was a combination of hammered and salvaged plating with insulating lining and also any spare thermal material fashioned into robes and scarves. Their improvised cloaks that Alaric made were further refined with much better cordage. Mal'fax chose to have more plating and so he was more heavily armoured then the rest.

Mal'fax arrived at the hab and from first glance he noticed that Fel'tak wasn't inside. After some searching he found Fel'tak, wearing predominately more thermal material with armoured limbs and pauldrons, was standing in front of the rear hab wall, humming to himself with his hands to his groin. And sure enough, there was a steam cloud fuming in front of him.

"Fel'tak?" Mal'fax called. "Hey, Fel'tak!"

Fel'tak jumped at the calling of his name before fumbling around downstairs.

"Paya's blades! Give me a bit of warning next time, Mal'fax!" Fel'tak snapped at him.

Mal'fax walked up to his friend, Fel'tak turning his back to him out of modesty.

"What are you doing? We're leaving." he told him.

Fel'tak looked at his hands.

"Oh, just fucking great!" Fel'tak cursed. "I pissed all over my fucking hands!"

Mal'fax, putting the pieces together, evidently suppressed a snicker. Fel'tak lashed out at him with a piss-drenched hand but Mal'fax dodged it.

"Well, clean yourself up before the oomans think you're scared of the surface." Mal'fax advised, walking off.

"Oh, ha ha ha! Fel'tak snapped back, reaching for some snow.

Mal'fax went back around the hab, hearing Fel'tak's mumbling and curses, and walked in shaking his head in amusement. The hab had been converted into a makeshift forge complete with hammers, a sturdy chunk of girder as an anvil and plenty of scrap metal laying around. He saw Ly'enta kneeling in prayer, no doubt for protection and guidance for the journey with her chain whips in front of her. She was outfitted more in insulating material then armour, in a way evoking the image of a priestesses robes. Kra'vyx however had not moved from his spot besides the fire barrel. He just sat there, knees to his chest watching the flames slowly fade to embers. He was still in his thermal jacket with his hood over his head and face.

Mal'fax walked up to Ly'enta and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you ready Ly'enta?" Mal'fax asked.

Ly'enta looked up to him.

"Is it time?" she asked.

"Yes." Mal'fax confirmed.

Ly'enta got her feet, straightening her robes.

"Got everything?" Mal'fax questioned.

"Of course." Ly'enta answered, before she gestured towards Kra'vyx. "What about Kra'vyx?" she asked before leaning closer to Mal'fax's ear "He hasn't perked up at all since we got back." she whispered.

"I'll deal with him." Malfax told her. "Fel'tak is outside, go join him."

Ly'enta nodded, gathering up her chain whips and holstering them on her hips. She walked over to a table where her mask and pack was, slipping her pack on her shoulder and belt on her mask.

"Ly'enta." Mal'fax called.

Ly'enta turned to him. Mal'fax gestured to her mask.

"Don't lose your mask." he cautioned. "That has the only evidence of what we've been through."

"I won't." Lyenta assured him, slipping it on her face before walking outside to join Fel'tak

It was true. Ly'enta was the only one whose mask had not been lost or damaged. And the recordings of their ordeal would prove vital in explaining what had happened to them. If they had nothing, not even their trophies as proof, this would be seen as a severe dishonour to the clan. Speaking of which, Fel'taks and Mal'fax's trophies were already in their transport so that was another piece of evidence in their favour.

Mal'fax turned back to his friend and saw that Kra'vyx still wasn't moving, despite hearing what was going on. Mal'fax sighed as he walked up to his friend. Kra'vyx didn't make any sign of noticing Ma'fax. He just kept his eyes on the embers in the barrel.

"Kra'vyx, we have to go now." he told him.

Kra'vyx didn't answer. Mal'fax knelt down to him.

"Kra'vyx, we waited as long as we could. I'm sorry but Alaric isn't coming back." Mal'fax told him

Kra'vyx shook his head at Mal'fax's assumption.

"You don't know him." Kra'vyx said, what sounded like the thousandth time.

Mal'fax rolled his eyes.

"Kra'vyx, you have to forget about him." Mal'fax urged, losing his patience. "He's gone and we have to focus on ourselves now."

"He's coming back." Kra'vyx said, like he hadn't heard what Mal'fax just said,

Mal'fax brought Kra'vyx up on his feet, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling his hood down. Kra'vyx looked really downtrodden as shown by his bloodshot eyes, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and the bruising on his face.

"Look, you got a mother and a sister to go back to." he reminded. "We all have families to get back to."

"Alaric is family." Kra'vyx stated. "And we don't leave family behind!"

Mal'fax gave Kra'vyx a slap to the face, silencing him in an attempt to get some sense into his grief stricken head. Kra'vyx blinked from the assault to his senses, shutting him up.

"And I am sure that Alaric doesn't want you to die on this ice ball. He died, more or less, so that Hish wouldn't get us." Mal'fax reminded, pointing an authoritative finger at him. "Do you intend to make his sacrifice worthless by sitting here, waiting to die?"

"No." Kra'vyx mumbled.

"Wouldn't he have wanted you to keep going?" Mal'fax added. "Wouldn't he have wanted you to get back home to your family?"

Kra'vyx wasn't as optimistic at that mention. He knew that Ja'anya was in love with Alaric and that Alaric had promised her that they would all make it back. ALL of them.

How would he be able to tell her that her lover fell to his death on an ice world, grappling a Hish? Couls he even bring himself to do it?

Mal'fax then gave Kra'vyx a reassuring shake of the shoulder.

"Look, sorry about slapping you but you need to be focused." Mal'fax said. "We're not safe here and we can't let up now."

Mal'fax did a quick check on Kra'vyx and saw that he still had his kataras sheathed on his hip.

"Come on." Mal'fax urged. "We have a home to get back to. And besides, you and Ly'enta need a trophy."

To hell with a trophy, Kra'vyx thought as he was led out by his friend. I need Alaric back.

Mal'fax led Kra'vyx out of the hab and towards the convoy.

The convoy was comprised of six trucks with a driver and gunner, seven transports (Three of which were used by the marines), another large transport that contained something that wasn't known to the initiates, only that Andrzej told them that their backup was in there. The transports hold roughly a dozen or so occupants and the tank with a crew compliment of six.

Marines and colonists were loading up their transports. Kelso was barking out orders and the soot stained Flambe was busy lighting his cigar with his flamer's pilot light before stepping inside his transport.

The initiates were travelling with the Archangels in their transport. Mostly so that they would not get into any altercations with the other marines. Reaching the transport, they could see that the rest of the archangels, bar one, was already here. They hopped inside, keeping themselves low and sitting down. Kra'vyx just slumped down, keeping his eyes to the firing slit in hope that Alaric would suddenly arrive. Ly'enta sat down near to the driver's cab while Fel'tak and Mal'fax to up positions by the hatch.

Their trophies were taking up a lot of space but in a form of added protection, they were placed against the walls of the transport as an extra layer of armour. Fel'tak objected his hard won trophy to such use but Mal'fax was more pragmatic, stating that a trophy is of little use if the bearer is dead.

"Kra'vyx, I suggest you get some sleep."Mal'fax recommended. "You need to regain your strength if anything should happen.".

Kra'vyx reluctantly turned away from the slit and slumped against the wall, trying to get comfortable before shutting his eyes. Though secretly, Kra'vyx admitted that he needed sleep having not slept a wink since they crashed on this planet.

Hicks was the last one to enter, holding his smartgun over his shoulder and servo harness retracted on his back before the hatch retracted up. From the way he entered, he was still annoyed from his scuffle with Phillips. In fact, Phillips once again hurled abuse at Hicks as the archangel passed his transport. Hicks' reply was to swing his smartgun's butt into his face without breaking his stride, adding further disfigurement to the bigot and an added warning of "Should've been ready.".

Karl was in the driver seat and Sergei was next to him in the passenger seat, brandishing his backup rifle. It was a modified M5RA battle rifle with 4X scope and under-slung grenade launcher. Other modifications were the use of high velocity rocket propelled ammunition, extended magazines and the grenade launcher firing HEAP (High-Explosive-Armour-Piercing) shells, of which Sergei only had one. This was to compensate in the event of him losing his anti-material rifle.

The rest of the angels were in the compartment, either manning the bolt-guns or flamers on their pintle-mounts or going through final checks on their gear. Andrzej was going over the final details over his comms, making sure that everyone plays their part.

"How much ammo have we got?" Mac asked, checking his pulse rifle's sights.

"Down to one mag and one grenade each." Sergei answered called from his seat. "I have been counting each individual round for the last hour, so don't complain about it."

"Then we better make each shot count." Mac proposed, lowering his rifle.

Hicks got up on the turret mount, locking his smartgun into position on the rail and cocking it, before swivelling around to get the feel. Karl wheeled his window down and stuck his head out, looking up to the gunner.

"You ready, Hicks?" he asked.

"Almost." Hicks answered, reaching to his back.

Hicks pulled out a customised combat shotgun from the holster on his back. Much like the standard ZX-78 shotgun of the colonial marines, it was a magazine fed pump-action close quarters weapon. But, it was an older variant with a single barrel instead of two and there were many features not standard issue on it. For instance, there was a compensator on the end of the barrel to control the recoiling gases and the framework was made out of rather high grade materials. There was also a modified feed and gas-actuated system so that it could be fired semi-automatically should need rise. On the receiver, Hicks had engraved an intricate scenic beach view with seagulls in the air and a dog on the beach.

It was apparent that it was modelled after a lost heirloom.

"I like to keep this handy, for close encounters." He quoted, cocking it with one hand with a loud cha-chink before holstering it again.

"You say that every time." Karl said, pulling his head back.

"Because it's true." Hicks said, down the hatch.

The convoy revved their engines, breathing hot plumes of steam from their exhausts. The trucks and their marine drivers called in on their comms, as did the transporters and the tank. After final checks were completed, the go ahead was given by captain Kabowski. The lead trucks with their sentry guns beeping and sweeping their view, revved and drove forward through the tunnel out from the colony. The transports followed suit, the tank taking up position in the middle, the turret and sponson guns scanning the area. The trucks bringing up the rearguard were the last to leave the colony, cruising out of the cavern and leaving the now abandoned complex to the planet.

---

The drive through the tunnels was surprisingly uneventful, winding down many empty tunnels and through abandoned caverns. But at any rate, the xenomorphs for some reason had not chosen to attack them in the tunnels. Even so, the sentries of the convoy kept a vigilant eye. Especially when signs of the xenomorphs were seen.

Claw marks in the icy walls.

Sergei leaned out of the window for a closer look as their transport drove past a few.

"These marks are a few hours old." he said to Karl, running his hand along the grooves. "Two or three, give or take." he counted the amount of markings to estimate the number of xenomoprh that passed here. "Seem to be ones out of the hive when the tunnel blew."

"Well, that means the bugs are A: somewhere up ahead or B: somewhere behind us." Karl pointed out.

Sergei clambered back inside.

"It looked like they were going forward." Sergei surmised, reaching for his comms. "Kapitán, we have bug tracks heading forward from our current route. Two to three hours old." he voxxed.

"Acknowledged." Andrzej confirmed over the comms. "Convoy, bugs tracks located. We are on high alert."

Despite this foreboding marker and passing through many areas where ambush would seem ideal, the xenomorphs were nowhere to be found. And this was adding more tension on an already nerve-racking journey.

It wasn't long before they reached the next phase of the plan.

"We're coming up for the surface now." the lead truck voxxed in. "Hopefully, the blizzard hasn't returned.

"Well, we'll find out one way or another." another marine voxxed. "I'll take this blizzard over bugs any day."

The marines on the trucks quickly wrapped their thermal scarves and balaclavas around their faces and slid their visors downs as the lead truck exited the mouth of the cave, headlights on full. Fortunately, the blizzard has not risen but the snowfall was still making it difficult to see clearly for more then a dozen or so metres ahead. But, fortunately there were guide lights marking the roads. The rest of the convoy followed suit.

"Well, visibility is still shit." a marine said over the comms.

"Keep an eye on the trackers." Andrzej ordered. "Even if the bugs aren't near, don't let them sneak up on us."

The convoy rumbled it's way down the mountains, following the guide lights and keeping a slow and steady pace. The nimbler trucks navigated their way much easier then the transports and far more easier then the tank. The latter had to cautiously edge it's way along the roads, stopping and pivoting on the spot to get around the tighter corners. The crew inside could be heard exclaiming to their predicaments, involving a lot of swearing and black humour.

Despite these barriers, the convoy was passing through the mountains with little hindrance.

The convoy reached the end of the mountain range within an hour, the lights guiding them through the safer path. They only had to get through this snow plain and it will be smooth driving from that point to the plateau.

Visibility here was now at an all time low. With the snowstorm around them, it was difficult to get a bearing on their position as there was no landmarks that could be accurately ascertained. Everything seemed to be a uniform white with grey blotches.

And their progress was hampered by that.

The convoy had changed formation so that the trucks encircled the transports ten metres apart and the tank took up the centre. With a new perimeter formed, the convoy progressed their way further into the valley.

"I don't like this." Hicks said, sweeping his smartgun around. "Walls on each side and the only way out is either forward or backwards."

He was right. The valley was at most a kilometre, maybe two kilometres, wide and from the cliff faces, snow banks made the floor of the valley into a concave base. As such going any direction other then straight would be arduous at best.

At least there was nothing out here in these desolate wastes. But, that was about to change in a most haunting manner.

That was when the ominous chiming of the motion tracker filled the air. And it was coming from the lead truck. The gunner on the truck, lifted his tracker and he could see, from the sensor on the truck's cab, there was a signal.

"Captain Kabowski, we got something?" the gunner voxxed.

"What is it?" Andrzej questioned.

The gunner looked at the screen as he focused on the signal, turning on the spot to triangulate it's position, the flamers pilot light whipping in the wind.

"Motion tracker is picking up something coming towards us. From left of our position and it's closing in fast." he relayed.

"Bugs?" Andrzej asked.

"I don't know but it's big... really big."

"Well, get a visual! Last thing we need is bugs or an avalanche."

The marine lifted the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the area to the left where the signal was coming from, checking the motion tracker for reference. While there was no blizzard raging around them, the snowfall and lack of adequate sunlight made it difficult to make out anything in the distance. All he could see was snow dunes, ice spires and ragged rocks.

The convoy slowed the pace as the lead truck continued to track the signal

The motion tracker's tone was starting to get quicker. That meant the anomaly was moving faster and closer.

"Do you see anything?" The driver asked. "The tracker is going crazy."

"I can't see any..." the gunner reported before he paused. "Wait a sec, I see it."

In the snowfall obscured distance, he could make out a dark form that was heading for them. Straining his eyes to make out what it was, the marine could tell that it was an animal moving on all fours. But his eyes widened and jaws dropped in shock when he saw a distinctive head shape, spinal protrusions and a wickedly barbed tail come into focus. And it speeding up towards them.

And when the turret beeped rapidly and opened fire in that direction, his fear was confirmed. Especially how the bullets were just ricocheting off the shape.

"What is it?!" the driver asked frantically.

"Oh shit!" the gunner cursed, banging on the cab. "Back up! Back up!"

No sooner did the gunner shout that, that the chaos begin. The lead vehicle was suddenly t-boned by a large xenomorph with a head that resembled a giant plough. The truck was sent flying through the air with the loud rending of metal and showers of sparks. The truck broke apart from the force of the impact, bursting into flames, scattering wreckage, the sentry gun firing wildly and the poor marines occupying it . The marines flew like ragdolls, screaming in both terror and pain through the air before landing hard into the snow drifts, flaming wreckage landing around them a good thirty feet or so. The sentry struck a rock and broke apart in a flurry of exploding munitions.

And before the marines could even pick themselves up or cry for help, they were suddenly pulled under the snow by an unseen force. Only a fast growing red stain in the snow and muffled screams was evidence of their existence.

Kra'vyx woke with a startle when he heard the truck getting pulverised, his hand going straight for a katara.

"What was that?!" he asked.

"Bugs!" a marine on the truck nearest the xenomorph shouted.

"Weapons free!" Andrzej shouted over the vox.

The marine unleashed a gout of flame from his flamer, engulfing the beast as it turned it's attention on him. The xenomorph roared at them as the flames furled around it before running off to a safe distance aflame, trying to smother the flames in the snow.

At that point there was another thundering crash from the rear. Swivelling his smartgun around, Hicks could see that the rear truck had been shunted off by another battering ram of a bug. But this time, the marines had managed to douse the xenomorph with the flamer and it was on fire trying to douse the flames in the snow as the truck rolled over onto it's back. The marines quickly clambered out and bolted for the transports before the truck burst into flames from it's ruptured fuel tank.

"We've been flanked!" he yelled, firing his weapon.

And sure enough from the haze, more and more shapes were appearing from all sides.

The convoy had walked into an ambush. And not only that, the convoy was led into a choke point and the only way out was now blocked. Marines and armed colonists in the transports quickly exited the transports, rushing to fill in the gaps of the perimeter the trucks had formed. Flambe was standing out like a sore thumb in his blackened armour and wielding his large flamer. Kelso, in his bloodied bandages, was barking out orders and firing a pulse rifle. Phillips, also sporting bandages on his bruised face, was firing a boltgun.

The Archangels deployed with the initiates outside their transport. Hicks stayed on his smartgun as the squad moved into firing positions. Mal'fax and his friends, Kra'vyx now being more focused on the fight after catching a nap and the chance to avenge Alaric and gain a trophy in the process, moved as a group to engage the nearest xenomorph which made a beeline towards them.

The young hunters evaded the xenomorph as it bounded past them. Lye'nta lashed out her whips around it's neck as Fel'tak swept in to drive his save between it's ribs. Mal'fax followed up with a viscous blow from his hammer, caving in it's teeth and sending it reeling to the ground. Kra'vyx swiftly ran in to drive his kataras into it's neck, severing tendons before it swatted him away hard. Mal'fax quickly rushed to fill the gap, bringing his hammer down hard into it's head over and over until it stopped moving, cracking it's head open like a stubborn egg.

And Mal'fax noticed that he was having difficulty in cracking it's armoured head open.

"How did they know?!" a marine exclaimed on the comms. "How did they know where we were going?!

That was on everyone's mind. How did the xenomorphs know of the exact route they were taking? How COULD they have known?

But there was no time to debate that as there was the sudden issue of surviving to contend with.

From the look of it, the bugs were on the usual course of capturing hosts. First though, they were intent on eliminating resistance, hence destroying the trucks. And they were surprised by the amount of fire power the convoy was projecting out. But, they just kept on charging through the barrage of projectiles.

Those manning the pintle-weaponry fired out bolts and gouts of flame and those who wasn't were using their own weaponry. The flames worked in making the xenomorphs keeping their distance, giving them vital space. But, much to their shock, they found that most of the bolts were just glancing off the xenomorphs armoured bodies. And those that did hit home where not penetrating as deeply as before.

Externally, the xenomorphs looked the same but they were very much different.

"Fuck, they've grown more armour!" a marine realised.

"You think?!" another marine shouted over the comms. "Increase the power setting!"

Having quickly adjusted their bolt-gun's power setting to maximum, the bolts were doing better but the rate of fire was now reduced in order to build up the necessary charge. And that meant they had to place their shots even more precisely now. And with the xenomorphs, most likely the most dangerous organism in the galaxy, charging at them, this was easier said then done.

The Archangels in the meantime were focusing on taking out individual xenomorphs in concentrated volleys.

Sergei was finding it hard to inflict damage with his rifle. Used to packing his anti-material rifle's heavier calibre, Sergei had to choose his targets more carefully but he was able to fire faster. More so because on closer examination, he could see that the xenomorphs armour, though looking normal, had grown more denser and thicker, no doubt to increase resistance against impact from blades or bullets. And much to his shock, he found that their joints had been reinforced with scale-like plating. His recent barrage of shots proved so.

"Yebat!" Sergei cursed in russian, cocking his grenade launcher. "So much for blowing limbs off!"

He fired his grenade launcher at the closest xenomorph that was bounding towards him with it's maw wide open. And Sergei exploited that opening as the grenade shot in with a loud thunk into the back of it's throat. And upon impact, the shaped charge detonated, blowing out the back of the xenomorphs head in a shower of flame,shards of chitin and glowing brains as the xenomoprh tumbled into the snow.

Sergei cocked his grenade launcher with a satisfying chink, the spent shell pining out and trailing smoke as the bug skidded to his feet. He hoped he would not have needed that grenade later but he did nail one of the xenomorphs at least.

More screams were heard as more of the trucks were overpowered by flaming xenomorphs who got close and the marines occupying them were torn to shreds before the trucks exploded in flame from ruptured fuel tanks. And now, with a gap or two in their perimeter, the xenomorphs exploited them with horrific precision. Marines and colonists frantically rushed back to the transports, some of whom were cut down in mid-flight as the xenomorphs surged forward.

Hicks swivelled his smartgun around and fired a long burst right into the xenomorphs who were pulling at one of the transports. The colonists inside screamed in terror as the xenomorphs pulled at the armour plating, trying to pry the transport open to get the colonists within. The rounds just pinged off the xenomorphs hardened carapace while the bolt-guns on the transport were barely able to penetrate. The xenomoprhs were not even acknowledging they were being shot at.

"Getting a bit tight here, sir!" Hicks yelled over his smartgun.

Andrzej could definitely see that the xenomorphs were deliberately getting in close to deny anyone using their weapons in case they hit a friendly target instead. It was then and there that they would need their backup.

"Deploy the suits!" Andrzej shouted into his comms, firing his pulse rifle.

" I thought you'd never ask." a marine voxxed.

The larger transport's rear hatch blew open from their explosive release bolts with a sharp clang of metal, the ramp biting into the snow. And from within, the sound of servos was heard. And then out came the mechanised troopers. Five marines in modified P-6000 power-loaders, decked out in armour plating and brandishing flamers on one arm and arc-torches on the other, came charging out. Each had a name stencilled on their armoured compartments, no doubt call signs.

Dakkaman. Teshy. AAEdmonds. Khalthar. D'techie

The P-6000 power-loader was a decided advancement over the previous P-5000 model. Structural improvements and more refined controls allowed for much smoother movement meaning that the suits could now follow the most sensitive of commands instead of the lumbering hulks that the previous model was. Instead of hydraulic pincers, the suits now sported three fingered hands for increased dexterity and use. In fact, one of the training program's deadlines is to be able to pick up an egg without crushing it. And also for increased practicality, they can be outfitted with various modular equipment, a handy trait when one considers the ever present threat of xenomorphs and yautja hunters. They may not pack as much punch as military exosuits but in the right hands they could turn the tide.

And that was going to be useful at a time like this.

The loaders charged at the bugs that were trying to smash open the transports to get the colonists within. With swings of servo assisted force, the loaders delivered chitin cracking blows to the face or wrenching tugs at their dorsal spines of tail. Once the xenomorphs were away from the transports, the loaders unleashed a dousing of flame and sharp arcing slashes with their flamers and arc torches. Overpowering one xenomorph, Dakkaman and Teshy got their hands around it's head and neck. With a great deal of tugging and limb wrenching, they tore it's head from his shoulders in a torrent of acidic gore.

The bugs seemed surprised by this sudden resistance. Like they had not thought of the possibility of humans having such weapons. And they were equally surprised with how deadly they were.

The loaders were succeeding in keeping the xenomorphs away from the transports, the bugs in question watching them with caution from a distance. No doubt they were testing this unexpected obstacle when one lunged at Dakkaman. He held both arms out and grabbed it by the neck and chest with a loud crunch. Both marine and xenomorph wrestled, raw strength against augmented strength. The xenomorph lashed out at Dakkaman with both tail and inner jaws, trying to find a weak point in his armour. Dakkaman's response was to bring the arc-torch up to it's neck and slice a blade of electricity through chitin and flesh.

A xenomorph rammer charged at AAEdmonds with a loud roar, who held out her arms in readiness. The xenomorph's head connected with the loader's hands with a loud crunching thud. AAEdmonds lined up the flamer and unleashed a gout of flame right down it's open mouth, incinerating it's insides like a blast furnace.

Teshy managed to grab a flailing tail from his opponent, catching it under his arm. With a good yank, he pulled the xenomorph towards him and to the swinging backhand waiting for it. The force of impact was powerful enough to smash off the bug's lower jaw with a loud crunch and spraying of teeth and chitin

Khalthar and the xenomorph he was engaging circled one another, him flashing his arc-torch and the xenomorph growling. The xenomorph pounces at him and he ducked, bringing his torch right into it's chest, grabbing it with his other hand and slammed into the snow. He then proceeded to slice right through it's reinforced ribcage like performing an autopsy, slicing right up to it's neck and then through it's head.

D'techie gave a fierce shoulder bash to his xenomorph opponent in mid charge, bending his legs and with servo assisted force, bucked the bug over his shoulder before grabbing it by the tail. Driving a hydraulic foot into it's back, he pinned it to the ground, grabbed it;s tail and heaved. The tail snapped off at the base and before the xenomorph could get on it;s feet, D'techie drove the wicked barb into it's own head, effectively nailing it's head to the ground.

It would appear that the humans were now on equal standing with the xenomorphs.

"Ha ha!" Phillips shouted, firing his . "Not so tough when you're fighting something your own size, are you!?"

He was silenced when the wicked barbed tail of a xenomorph punched through his back and out his chest. The xenomoprh responsible flung the lifeless cadaver away just as the nearby marines realised they had been flanked. The spraying blood was an obvious indicator.

"Fuck, they're getting sneaky!" Kelso yelled, bringing his pulse rifle to bear.

Flambe reared his flamer in it's direction and let loose a gush of flame. The xenomoprh dodged the gout and reared up against them roaring loudly. The marines started backing off, Flambe staying in front with his flamer.

This was bad. These xenomorphs were now resorting to stealth, using their kin as expendable decoys and that gave them back the initiative.

It was apparent that the xenomorphs had to be fought with a new tactic. One which invoked proverbial balls.

The colonist Erickson, armed with a demo-charge, rushed up to the xenomorph while it was distracted by the marines. Punching the timer, he slammed it onto the base of the xenomorphs tail before frantically dashing away. The marines quickly retreated too. The xenomorph, feeling the charge adhere itself to it's hindquarters, turned to see the colonist running and looked down at the charge just as the timer read zero. The charge detonated, blasting the xenomorphs lower body off in a large spray of acid and carapace fragments.

The xenomorph, having had it's entire lower body blown to bits was easy prey for the marines to finish off. But, like many a battle showed, the xenomorphs quickly countered this tactic. The next colonist to try was speared by the target xenomorph's tail before being flung away without the bug even turning around to do so.

And, inevitably, the ammunition was starting to run out. And there were still six or seven xenomorphs in the fight.

"Can't we use the cannon?!" Kelso questioned on the comms, checking his ammo counter. "We're running low here!"

"They're too close. We'll take out half the convoy in the process!" Andrzej countermanded, coordinating his squad in volleys.

"Sir, we got new targets ahead." Sergei alerted, looking down his rifle's scope out to the distance to the convoy's left.

Andrzej turned to the sniper.

"Where?" he asked.

"Up on the ridge." Sergei indicated, keeping his rifle poised.

Andrzej held his binoculars up to his eyes and he saw what Sergei meant.

There were two hulking xenomorphs surrounded by a further dozen of their warrior subordinates in the snow haze distance. These ones looked far more deadly and much larger then what was assailing them at the moment. Their armour was formed into wicked pointed and curved arcs. Their claws looked like they could tear through solid rock like it was made of chalk. And the tails were armoured in a way that made it seem to have an inescapable grip.

However, one of them, the most ornate and larger of the two, was missing a tail. All it had was an armoured stump.

It was the bug that Alaric had sliced it's tail off when it was trying to make off with Ly'enta. The other bugs looked like it was subordinate to the former, making it was apparent that this xenomorph was the leader. From the way it was roaring out different notes, it was evidently giving orders.

"Gówno, it's that bug again!" Andrzej cursed.

"The bastard definitely has to be a praetorian." Sergei surmised, judging from they way it was acting. "It's leading the others."

Andrzej was quick on his comms with this information.

"Tank, you have a target!" Andrzej voxxed. "Shoot the tailless praetorian on the ridge, it'll disrupt their attack!".

"Roger that!" the tank commander acknowledged

This was sure-fire tactic in dealing with xenomorphs as it is confirmed that the higher castes coordinate the lesser castes. A prime example is that whenever the hive's queen is killed, the rest of the hive undergo a... neural backlash as their telepathic link is forcefully severed, not unlike how radio signals could be jammed. This is one of the few weaknesses that the xenomorphs possess and humanity had learned to take full advantage of it.

The tank's turret swivelled with the humming of servos to aim the cannon at the larger xenomorph. The cannon hummed as it charged up for the shot, it's energy coils glowing with power.

The Praetorian watched as the tank readied to fire. It cocked its head as it screeched a forceful tone. Immediately several of the xenomoprhs, three warriors and the other large xenomorph, in reserve charged forward towards the tank. Blocking the tanks line of fire.

"They're blocking my sight!" the gunner shouted.

"The bolt will get him regardless of how many bodies are between it!" the co gunner reminded.

"Fire!" the tank commander shouted.

The tank's cannon, with a final sharp charge up of energy, fired with a loud electrostatic crack. The snow falling around the barrel evaporated and in the shots path as the bolt shot out of the cannon faster then the sound could be heard, the snow cover billowing around from the round's passing. The flaming round impacted the first xenomorph right in the chest, punching right through it and tearing it into chunks in a shower of green acid. The bolt continued it's path, punching through the other warriors and nailing the praetorian to the cliff face behind cliff face, driving it several feet into the rock and ice. The big bug tried to wrench itself free when the gunner detonated the bolt. The blast blew the xenomorph to smoking chunks and blast some of the cliff into rubble in the process, sending large hunks of ice and rock throughout the immediate area. The cliff face collapsed shortly afterwards creating an avalanche to sweep a destructive path towards the convoy.

Fortunately, the drifts stopped a good several meters from the convoy.

Whoops were heard from the tank's crew as the cooling units for the cannon kicked in with a loud hiss.

"We got that praetorian!" the tank commander confirmed.

"Did you get the other one?" Andrzej asked.

"Yeah. It, the entire swarm and half the cliff face with it!" a crewman bragged.

"Can you confirm it? We need a visual." Andrzej demanded.

"I think so... wait a second." the gunner called.

When the snow cleared up, as much as it could in this snow fall, they were in for nasty surprise.

The tailless Praetorian was still standing. Standing right where it had been. In line of fire from the tank. And much to their surprise it wasn't buried. It was standing on the newly formed snow bank like nothing had happened. And from the snow bank, the rest of the hive burst forth in a manner that would evoke something from a nightmare.

"You fucking missed!?" a marine in the tank cursed.

"I was on target!" the gunner claimed "How could it dodge that?!"

The xenomorphs, momentarily paused at the sight and sound of this unexpected resistance to their attack, regained their composure. Within moments, maybe the hive mind coordinating them through a roar from the praetorian, they renewed their offensive with increased vigour, aiming for a specific point.

It was clear. The xenomorphs marked the tank as a primary target.

The Praetorian led the charge, streaming down the snow face with the rest of the hive behind it. The xenomorphs already in the convoy resumed their attentions in engaging the loaders.

"Oh shit, there they come!" A marine in the tank exclaimed.

The tank quickly pivoted on the spot to bring it's full armament to bear.

"Concentrate fire on the praetorian!" Andrzej commanded, running back to the transport.

The tanks armaments fired up with bolts flying through the air, the tanks cannon charging up before firing another shot at the Praetorian once more. The bolts impacted the xenomorphs, most of them pinging off but some scored home. The Praetorian on the other hand, effortlessly dodged the cannon's shot, moving in a blur as the round whizzed past.

"You see that?!" The gunner pointed out. "The fucker can dodge them!"

"Concentrate fire!" the tank commander ordered "It can't dodge everything!"

But, much to their horror, the Praetorian was impossibly dodging everything the cannon and sponsons could throw at it. And the bolts from the sponsons that did hit it by chance merely bounced off it's carapace.

The rushing xenomorphs broke through the perimeter, smashing aside the flamethrower trucks and the marines occupying them in their way. Some trucks exploded on impact, engulfing their occupants in flame while some would crush theirs in their throes.

It would appear that the first charge was to ascertain how much damage the tank could do. And having seen what it could do, The Preatorian was intent on eliminating the problem itself.

When the charge met the convoy, the xenomorphs ran straight for the tank, their numbers only being reduced by two. The Praetorian was joined by two warriors in it's charge to the tank, the rest were engaging the transports and the loaders protecting them. The loaders were now more hard-pressed then ever.

On the sponsons was lunged at by a xenomorph, the marine inside receiving a barbed tail right to the head through the view slit. It was immediately fended of with a flamer to it's face from the tank commander.

"Give us some support!" he yelled in the comms as the xenomorph pulled back to douse the flames.

Anyone who wasn't engaged by xenomorphs fired into the bugs engulfing the tank. But their shots were ineffective at discouraging them. Especially how the Praetorian had now reached the tank. It's subordinate then immediately withdrew so that it could deal with the tank personally.

The Praetorian then climbed up the tank, latching onto it's structure as bolt shells pinged harmlessly off it. The cannon fired again but the xenomorph again dodged the round. The projectile did nail another two xenomorphs in it's path so it wasn't a complete loss.

"Shit! Get it off us!" a marine inside yelled.

The only ones who could even hope to dislodge the Praetorian was the loaders. And they were still engaged with the xenomoprhs from the first wave. They only thing that could be done was to try and concentrate fire onto the Praetorian to hopefully distract it.

But the Praetorian was having none of it.

The Praetorian grabbed hold of the cannon's barrel, diverting it's aim away from it as another shot fired, impacting the ground with a loud bang and plume of snow. The marines inside tried to drive the turret to try and wrestle the xenomorph off, the gears whining from the strain but the xenomorph proved to be stronger. It heaved and effortlessly ripped off the cannon and part of the turret structure like it was made of flimsy card. The piece of hardware fell apart with a loud metallic crash as it hit the snow covered ground, shorting out from contact and exploding in a loud static flash. It then ripped off what was left of the turret, revealing a sparking gash that exposed the interior of the tank and the marines occupying it.

"Marines, get out of there!" Kelso yelled.

The marines inside fired at the behemoth with bolt-guns they had stashed inside. The bolts, even at this close range and at full power, pinged harmlessly off the behemoth's armoured skull. Even a gout of flames from the tank commander's flamer wasn't enough to deter it. The Praetorian growled in what would be a malevolent chuckle at the sign of this defiance as the flames would not take hold on it. Especially since the recesses of its body were now starting glow a bright eldritch green.

"Get out of there!" Kelso shouted out again.

But in truth, the marines had nowhere to run.

The behemoth then reared up it's head and, with a loud guttural roar, brought it's head down and from from it's mouth shot a torrent of bright green flame into the tank.

The marines inside screamed in both absolute terror and absolute pain as they could feel their armour, flesh and bones being eaten away by the green inferno, cell by cell. Jets of green acid-flame spurted out of the welds of the tanks armour, slowly forcing their way through it's entire structure. And chunks of the tank's armour where the flames made contact was starting to peel off and disintegrate into dust.

Those watching, and those who stopped fighting at the sight, were in complete shock and horror as the praetorian continued spewing more and more flame into the tank, increasing the intensity tenfold. The xenomorphs paused their attack and watched on in what would seem to be pride in their power. Showing the humans that nothing would stop them now.

"Jesus Christ!" a colonist screamed in terror.

Even the most battle hardened marine was not immune to the terror.

The side hatch opened, more accurately fell off it's melted hinges, and a marine engulfed in green flame and burned right down to the bone in some places, especially on the face, heaved out of the hatch. He gave one last guttural scream of all consuming pain and terror before tumbling out of the hatch, hitting the snow and disintegrating into a black stain on impact.

The tank's acid-flame soaked superstructure finally gave out at that point, groaning with a loud metallic creak before collapsing in a large plume of green smoke and flame. The Praetorian reared it's head up and roared in victory as the last remnants of the tank turned to dust, leaving nothing but charred and melted blackened hunks of metal, with burnt fragments of bones within, in the melted snow.

The humans' trump card had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. And with it, the morale just folded.

"Why did I even bother making a tank?!" Karl fumed, throwing his tools doen in the snow in frustration.

"Can bugs do that?" Sarah yelled Hicks. "Can they do that!?"

Hicks was the most shocked. He had seen something that he thought xenomorphs were not capable of doing. He had seen xenomorphs swarm like a tide from a hive. He had seen them burn through the hull of the ship using their blood. But he never saw xenomorphs breath fire like dragons.

In fact, he was so shocked he didn't even notice that his smartgun had ran out of ammunition and was buzzing when he shakily squeezed the trigger.

"I don't know shit!" he shouted, ditching his smartgun and bailing his position.

And not a moment to soon as a xenomorph lashed out at him and was just inches away from taking his head off. He answered that attack by drawing his shotgun and firing a slug into it's open mouth. While it wasn't enough to fatally harm it, it did serve to stun it for a few vital moments. Hicks landed on his feet, jumping from the truck as the xenomorph lashed down at him. He fired again, the slug punching into its face but not penetrating even at this range.

The xenomoprh hissed at this show of defiance, sliding off the transport as the Archangels converge on it, swords drawn. The squad delivered punishing blows to it's head and neck in an attempt to decapitate it. It just continuing stalking after Hicks, shrugging off blows like they weren't even there. That was when the squad focused on it's limbs, stabbing into it's legs and arms to pin it down.

The xenomoprh struggled as the squad pulled an pushed their weight on to keep the bug still as Hicks ran up. Hick's, exploiting this moment, rammed his shotgun right down the xenomorphs mouth, plugging the muzzle in the roof of it's mouth.

"Eat this!" Hicks yelled, squeezing the trigger.

Having a shotgun loaded with slugs pressed point-blank to the roof of it's mouth was guaranteed to have a consequence. And that was the slug punching right into the xenomorphs's skull, the heavily armoured cranium causing the slug to ricochet around inside, pulping it's brain into mush.

The xenomorph collapsed into a twitching haemorrhaging wreck as Hicks cocked his shotgun. His shotgun, in much foresight, was made out of acid resistant alloys so all Hicks dis was to dunk it in the snow to offset the acid.

Andrzej looked up at the Praetorian, his eyes widening from what he saw and he frantically gave the order.

"MOVE!" Andrzej yelled, grabbing Sergei by his collar when he saw the Praetorian turned it's gaze to them.

And the Praetorian was glowing again.

The Archangels didn't need telling twice as the sprinted as fast as they could in the snow as the Praetorian reared its head and then roared at them. The Praetorian shot out a glowing ball of green fire, crackling with crackling energy. Like it had shot out a green comet.

"GET DOWN!" Andrzej yelled as the fireball came right at them.

The Archangels dived into the snow, half burying themselves and covering their heads as the fireball roared over them, evaporating the snow around them in a searing cloud of steam. The fireball hit the transport, engulfing it in green flame before it exploded with tremendous force blowing wreckage in a massive fiery arc.

The initiates, having just dispatched the xenomoprh they were fighting, heard the explosion and turned to the direction they heard it. And they saw the transport was now nothing more then a smouldering blasted wreck. The Archangel quickly picked themselves up and ran from their position. Away from the initiates.

"My trophy!" Fel'tak screamed in horror.

"Forget it!" Mal'fax urged, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We've got bigger problems!"

To be more accurate, there was a great many LITTLE problems.

That was when they heard screams coming from the transports. The xenomorphs had a trump card of their own. And it was the reason why the marines from the lead truck met their demise.

The Archangels and the initiates saw them with added shock.

The transports and the loaders guarding them, were being engulfed in a swarm of dozens of smaller xenomorphs. These ones were nothing like the ones seen so far. The were about three to five feet tall and they were covered in a menagerie of sharp quills and brandished oversized claws. Any marine or colonist unfortunate to be overrun by them were torn limb from limb.

The loaders were being engulfed by the swarm. The xenomoprhs smaller size of swifter speed was playing against the loaders larger size. They were using their numbers to pin down the loaders, slicing at servos and power cables to immobilise them. Even when the loaders landed crushing blows from their fists, gouts of flame and blades of arcing power from their weaponry, the swarm was unyielding. Losing a limb, having their heads caved in or being on fire was not deterring them. If anything, their dead bodies served to weigh the loaders down even more.

Dakkaman fired his flamer as a dozen of the swarmers pounced at him, immolating them but they kept on running, pouncing when they were in range. The first two were swatted away with no trouble, smashing their bodies in limp piles, but the next four, engulfed in flames, pounced onto his arm, over balancing him. The rest piled onto his back and chest, sending him tumbling over into the snow with a loud dense thud, spraying fire in his wake.

The rest of the loaders were facing the same fate. Their larger size was being used against them and once they hit the ground they were as good as dead. In fact, the swarmers tripped up Teshy and he crashed hard into the snow face first next to Dakkaman.

The rest of the loaders ganged up, but more accurately was forced, into a circle around the fallen loaders.

"Come on, we got to help them!" Mal'fax yelled, running to the loaders.

He was soon stopped in his tracks by several xenomorphs bounding towards them. The initiates were quick to regroup and they were soon engaged once more.

The loaders were pretty much on their own for now.

Flambe, who was the only marine close to the loaders as the rest of his unit ran the moment the swarmers burst from the snow, had a plan to counter them. A plan that would need a hefty pair of proverbial balls

"Fuck this!" Flambe shouted, reaching from his flamer. "Come and get me you little shits!"

He unleashed a gout of flame, attracting their attention and engulfing three swarmers on top of Teshy. And the flamer gave a loud gaseous gurgle and the flames died out.

"Shit." Flambe cursed as his distraction died.

That was when the swarm took notice of him.

The swarm, as Flambe was hoping, picked him out as a more exposed target then the loaders. One that didn't have at least an inch of armour plating protecting him.

"Come on!" Flambe yelled, dumping the empty tank from his back and running to the nearest abandoned truck. "180lbs of meat, you know you want it!"

The swarm chased him in hot pursuit, quickly gaining ground with the marine. Everyone took the chance in getting the colonists out of the wrecked transport and helping the loaders to their feet.

"That's it!" he goaded, flipping them off and whooping. "I hope you like fast food!"

Flambe's plan, as much as he could quickly think, involved drawing the swarm together in one place and then hopefully wiping them out in one big explosion. And the closest thing that Flambe thought of at that critical moment was the fuel tank of the truck he was running to. Now all he had to do was bait the swarm, get the truck to blow and get out of there.

"I hope you like it crispy!" he taunted to the swarm on his heels. "I got the spice right here!"

Flambe reached for his belt when he felt the first of the swarmers landed on him, digging claws into his soot-stained armour. Flambe crashed into the snow, rolling right next to the truck and the rest of the swarm converged on him. Flambe struggled to crawl further to the truck, lashing out with his arm to punch those getting too close to his head. but the swarm weighed him down, dragging him back slashing at him and tearing the armour and skin off his back. After much pain driven shuffling and reckoning he had been sliced right down to the bone, with one heave he had finally reached his target.

The fuel tank.

Flambe pulled out what he was trying to get from his belt. A grenade that he set to impact detonation by twisting the dial.

"Going out with a bang!" he declared, slamming the live grenade into the tank.

The transport exploded in an almighty conflagration of flame and flying bits of mangled metal. Flambe, the ravenous swarm and anything near them was consumed by the flames. Swarmers that were not consumed by flame were hurled far like shredded ragdolls, When the explosion died down, all that was left was a flaming wreck and the charred bodies of the marine and the swarm.

His effort had helped in thinning out the swarm to a few roasted stragglers that were staggering around by the wreck but the xenomoprhs were not deterred by this sudden loss. And now they were able to resume what they had set out to do.

Capturing hosts.

The Archangels, who had somehow fought their way to the outskirts of the battle, halted at the sight of the colony's defeat as the xenomorphs converged from all sides.

Mac looked down to his pulse rifle and he saw that the counter was reading zero.

"Out of ammo captain." he said, dumping his rifle.

"Same here" Karl added.

Sarah cursed in French as her pulse rifle buzzed in depletion. Hicks pulled the slide of his shotgun and the last shell pinged out.

"Dry!" he yelled, holstering his shotgun and drawing his sword.

In fact, none of the marines in the convoy had any ammunition left. The xenomorphs had been soaking up all that punishment and the humans had only taken out maybe a third of the attack. And those bugs who had already taken damage were regenerating their wounds and were charging back into the fray.

Suffice to say, the humans could no longer put up any more resistance.

"What do we do, Kapitan?" Sergei asked, calmly surveying the scene with his rifle's scope. "There's no way out."

He was right. Even if they tried to make a run for it, they would only be giving the xenomorphs the thrill of a hunt. There is no way that they, Spec Ops troopers and the most decorated squad in the history of earth, could survive on this planet, be it with or without xenomorphs.

Andrzej sighed as he kept his eyes on the xenomorphs that were even now mopping up the last vestiges of resistance. Marines were either slaughtered like stuck pigs or pinned into the ground before being restrained by webbing that the xenomorphs secreted. Colonists were torn out of wrecked transports and herded into groups like livestock, parents clutching their terrified children. The loaders, owing that they had shown the most resistance were shown no mercy as they were ganged up on and had their already damaged chassis and servos torn apart in sparks and the pilots inside were ripped from their compartments to be violently thrown into the colonists, landing in badly banged up heaps.

In the distance, opposite them on the other side of the convoy, The initiates were still barely holding on. But by the number of dead xenomorphs at their feet, about five in all, they had done more then could be asked of them.

"We all knew this was a long shot." Andzrej admitted, raising his sword. "Only one thing left: take these fuckers out with us!"

With that, the Archangels charged in the fray, brandishing their swords and yelling a warcry. Each archangel, jumping onto the backs of the nearest xenomorphs, driving their blades deep into gaps in their armoured backs or necks, intending on taking one out with them. Some of the angels drew their pistols, firing their entire magazines into the gaps . The xenomorphs reacted to this sudden display of suicidal heroism, reaching for the archangels with either arms or tails and wrenching them off

Kelso, however in a stark manner of defiance, was putting up a hell of a last stand on one of the wrecked trucks, using the still functional flamer with one hand and firing a scavenged bolt gun with the other. At his feet were two dead xenomorphs roasting in flames.

Kelso in this predicament epitomes the meaning of Ultimate Bad Ass.

"You like that!" he yelled, dousing the xenomorphs in flame. "You want some more!"

Until he got flanked.

Kelso looked up behind him when he noticed a shadow fall around him. Just in time to see a xenomorph lash it's tail at him into his bandaged side. The impact crumpled his armour and his ribs with a loud crack, the razor sharp bladed barb tearing into him as he was catapulted away across the remains of the convoy, yelling in pain. He impacted the flaming wreckage of a truck, tumbling over it on impact hitting the ground hard on the other side and out of view.

"Sarge!" a marine yelled before one of the xenomorphs pinned him to the ground.

The initiates, who had now been completely surrounded, were set upon by the xenomorphs and despite putting up fierce resistance and managing to kill another xenomorph, they were swiftly overpowered by the xenomorphs superior numbers. Kra'vyx, by sheer luck, had managed to slip away but he was soon pursued by one of the xenomorphs.

It lashed out with it's tail smacking Kra'vyx in the back and sending him flying out away from the others. He rolled into snow, panting and on the verge of terror as he rolled to his knees, finding himself thrown from the convoy. Looking back, he jumped in fright of the xenomorph that was coming towards him.

Kra'vyx knew that he, an initiate who had not even earned a trophy, was no match for this ancient breed of bug. The xenomorph however seemed to be enjoying toying with Kra'vyx, making the kill to come ever mor sweter

Kra'vyx frantically scrabbled backwards as the xenomorphs prowled after him, toying with him by lashing out with it's tail and deliberatly missing him. That was until he backed right into the smouldering wreck of one of the trucks of the perimeter. Looking around, he could see that xenomorphs had wiped out all resistance and were even now gathering up the survivors to be used as hosts. The Archangels were bunched up, restrained by the xenomorphs and futilely trying to hack their way out from the tail's armoured grip. The colonists and any surviving marines were being bound up by webbing and his friends were even now pinned to the ground ready to be bound up too.

A screech brought his attention back to the xenomorph in front of him and Kra'vyx, seeing that this was it, could not keep his terror in any longer.

"Alaric, help us!" Kra'vyx screamed desperately as the xenomorph pounced for him, maw opened and a loud roar filling his his ears.