The Descencion Trilogy- Book 2 Prologue-The Azure Strike The boom of a shell detonating overhear roared again.

The sky was darkened with smoke and soaring shrapnel and, even higher, there was a buzzing cloud of screamers, blocking out the sun like a locust swarm. Every now and then, there was a break in the storm as the fiery wreckage of a starcruiser or battleship entered the atmosphere on its last voyage. The chkk chkk chkk of Sergeant Wides automatic pistol spluttered to a halt as he turned and clambered over the barricade in pursuit one of his surviving marine. A beam of blue light scorched a mark into rubble by Wides side; steam issued from the cracks in the barricade and, as Wide heaved his pack over the summit and hoisted himself after it, he caught a glimpse of a spray of superheated water bursting forth and mixing with the muck and mortar to form a broiling, rocky slurry which cascaded down towards his pursuers. Another beam of light sizzled silently past him, but suddenly swung skywards. Not caring why the usually hawk-like accuracy of the enemy was absent, Wide skidded down the longer slope of the embankment, lost his footing and rolled to the foot of the mound into the soldier who had preceded him. Instability had saved him; mere seconds after he had stumbled to his knees, an explosion rocked the mound and the geyser erupted. Scalding water plumed upwards, wearing a crown of masonry and metal; a column of burning water mere feet behind the marines. Spray began to rain down in a hot mist, the heated droplets burning Wides exposed face and hands. He seized his colleagues arm above the elbow and dragged the soldier to his feet as he drew a knife from its sheath on his thigh. Slashing the straps of the privates backpack, the bulky equipment dropped to the floor with a crash and the two marines were already sprinting away. Suddenly, with a scream of pain, the private dropped, a sizzling hole smoking in his chest. Wide tripped as the privates arms flailed wildly and landed on his back. Upon the embankment crouched the killer; its armour dripped crimson water as it glistened in the light of a thousand fires. Steam issued from the mouth of the geyser and, as the enemy stood, it seemed as if a demon had crawled from the smoking depths of Hell. Its eyes shone electric-blue, oddly peaceful against the black and red and silver, calming and soothing Then the silver staff was levelled at Wide. Two, four fingered, hands gripped the weapon steadily and then twisted in opposite directions. The staff clicked and the two halves rotated in the centre. One end, the end with the cruel blade attachment began to hum distantly. The other end hosted what represented a trident with the centre prong missing. In its place, a single sapphire sat sinisterly in its dark recess. As the staff clicked into place, the prongs began to circle their pivot; energy began to crackle at the tips and the stone darkened momentarily beforeBoom! The shell landed behind the staff-wielder, blowing the summit of the embankment across the battlefield in a fiery rain of shrapnel. The torso of the armoured demon was launched upwards whilst the legs were consumed by the inferno; but the staff-weapon was still trained on Wide The disturbingly calm eyes never left the sergeants face. In that moment, as the staff was adjusted to aim once more at the soldier, Wide realised he was going to die. And he would have, had the flight path of a rocket not crossed that of the airborne killer.

Wide swore unprofessionally as a wave of heat washed over him and fragments of metal peppered his armour and skin. Rubbing his eyes, Wide felt a hand grasp his arm and hoist him to his feet. Through the stinging tears he could just make out the blurred form of a tall black man in MICRA armour, standard grey camouflage pattern; identical to the Sergeants. Over his helpers shoulder, Wide could see another trooper reloading a rocket-launcher. To his right an energy weapon was fired by the enemy: a strobe light accompanied by screams and a harsh fizzing. And the head of the staff wielder lay, staring at him. The eyes were transfixing, flashing suddenly as though angry, then faded, leaving only two dark recesses, gaunt, dead, desolate. Crack! The black man slapped Wide across the face so hard that blood was drawn from the sergeants cheek. Sorry Sarge, but times short an thats the only thing thatll snap you outta that trance short of shootin you! Wide shook his head clear. No time Corporal, Private, sir Youre a corporal now! Whats the situation at the crash zone? Machinegun fire spat its deadly message over the crater the three soldiers were hidden in. Lukewarm water splashed beneath their feet and was gradually rising to fill the hole as the newly promoted corporal supported the now limping sergeant to the far side. They overran it bout an hour ago sir; least, we assume they did. No contact with the excavation team. Major Gallows s pulled everyone back to the ORO Tower to defend the entrance to the labs. Fool! Spat Wide. He stumbled only to be caught by the private with the launcher. The bastards dont need any of the stuff in the labs; they probly learn that stuff in nursery. Theyll bomb the tower even if they do know whats inside. Thats what we said, sir! Bellowed the private as another shell exploded, throwing muck and rubble into the crater to splash into the rising pool. Then he sent us out ere to help any latecomers. Didn like his orders bein questioned. Majors generally dont! Wide shouted back. Thats why Im not a major! They began their ascent out of the relative calm of the pit and into the chaos once more. Like your orders questioned then, sir? Laughed the corporal. No, Im just big enough to accept that Im wrong sometimes. The three hit the ground as a missile soared over their heads; it was badly constructed with parts falling off as it flew and the guidance fins rattled; but it was aimed at the human soldiers and when it exploded, it consumed the base of a skyscraper which then toppled and collapsed with a horrific crash. How long they been using those? First Ive seen, sir. Forbes? Corporal Forbes rolled over to look behind them and trying to see the shooter but the geyser erupted again and this was followed by an energy mortar lighting up the sky in the distance. He replied: First Ive heard of em using rockets. Doesnt surprise me though; the Mortricras rigged up some crappy version of one of our ATVs. Theyre experimentin; trying out our tech, looking at the results and assimilating any bits worth taking. Been doin it on all fronts; weapons, tactics and vehicles. Ultimate scavengers. You make them sound so crude, snorted Wide. Theres a group, look, coming down the main road. Well make a run for it the moment theyve passed and-

A banshee screech interrupted him and all three soldiers turned only to see a growing point of fire. Seconds afterwards, the superheated meteorite landed: it was a screamer, a Mortricras orbital drop-pod. Within the capsule, at least four of the tall, armoured warriors were unfolding, their azure eyes igniting. It took only seconds for the three humans to question the Sergeants orders before they were over the lip of the crater and sprinting in the direction of the ORO Tower. The Orbital Research Overseers Tower was alight. The upper levels were chocked with smoke and gas which was leaking from the piping and would erupt into an incinerating wind when it met the spreading flames from below. Somehow the ground floor had been spared the burning and it was to here that the corporal and private had led Sergeant Wide. The entrance to the military-employed research facility was a Micra-steel bunker furnished on the inside with marines, ammunition racks, spent cartridges and over twenty stationary weapons; the outside was decorated with the barrels of those same emplacements and the debris of defeated foes. They clambered over the blockade at the doorway between two mounted gun platforms which spluttered dismally as their gunners tried to conserve ammunition. The steady droom droom droom of a suspension unit began and grew to a deafening howl of wind and cracking earth as an enemy tank appeared from around a corner, flattening the rubble into a smooth, glassy path just ahead of the advancing metallic monster. It floated ponderously across the ground before slowing to a halt barely thirty metres from the bunker, nearly eighteen tons of metal and fire. It was a humbling piece of engineering. Seven metres of flexible scorpion tail wavered snake-like in the air above the vaguely bullet-shaped body which was crafted not unlike the head of a Mortricras on top of a widened, semi-circle base: a raptor countenance hidden beneath a fanged face-plate leaving a smooth, impenetrable visage. Venators they were dubbed, hunters. For a long minute, the gunners and the Venator tank glared at each other across the minimal no-mans-land that was the decimated piazza. Then the tail arced forward and the bunker of soldiers attacked; machineguns fired and a gauss cannon accompanied them with steady thrum as electromagnets super-accelerated explosive projectiles in apocalyptic streaks towards the approaching machine. The ammunition struck the Venator causing minor damage to the cockpit but carving huge chunks away from the left side of the face; the dark metal was blasted away leaving a gaping wound which was courteously administered with a dose of armour piercing bullets which tore through the internal wiring and shredded some unknown storage unit releasing a fireball which ricocheted through the interior of the tank before bursting through the narrow windscreen like burning vomit as the war vehicle bucked and shuddered in its death-throws. But the damage was done, even as the tail weapon swung wildly casting a sizzling lance of azure lightening in uncontrolled bursts at the urban landscape, the marines were already abandoning their emplacements and retreating further into the building: over the ridge of a crater at the edge of the piazza, the enemy came in their loping, tireless sprint; nearly three hundred Mortricras and seventeen Carvers, indistinguishable from the standard troops save for their cruel staff weapons. Their destination: the smoking mouth in the side of the bunker, last wound of the Venator. Within seconds they were there and pouring through the hole like rats; those that couldnt enter the bunker by the opening made their own, drawing their motorised maces and carving the walls away in chunks; those which no longer had maces used their fists. And still they came.

Wide coughed as smoke continued to fill the underground passage and he fumbled with the breathing mask strap with shaking and bloodied hands. Beside him, crouched on the floor with an assault rifle trained on the door at the end of the corridor and a mask already in place upon his face, was Corporal Forbes. Wrapped around his supporting hand were the dog-tags of Corporal Private Alder. With them were seven other marines; battle worn, exhausted and afraid, they awaited their foe. Beyond the collapsed ceiling at the end of this corridor, doom stood in the form of at least twenty warriors. All the humans could pray for now was that there were no lieutenants waiting to be the harbingers of that doom. Wide spoke: Any regrets, Corporal? Yeh Sarge; I dropped my lucky grenade. Its never failed me yet. Really? Can I assume its never had the chance to fail you? Forbes grinned as he shifted his weight onto his other knee. Believe it or not Sarge, you could be right. But the corps really should invest in reusable grena- SHIT! HERE THEY COME! The first attack came in the form of flying rubble blasted by some unseen weapon; the retaliation was a pair of missiles which careened one after another down the narrow corridor disappearing into the smoke then illuminating it with a deep crimson light. But even as the marines opened fire and filled the air with bullets, eight Mortricras advanced, metal pinging off their armour and being embedded in the walls. Three were felled before they reached the sergeant but so were three of the marines. Forbes was struck in the face by a mace as the second Mortricras passed him but as Wide rose to bar the path of the last three, the third reached out, grabbed his armoured vest and threw him bodily over the heads of his soldiers and smashed into the blast door at the end of the end of the corridor. It opened. And there was a thrum. The projectile missed completely, but the magnetic field surrounding it was so intense that it dragged the Mortricras after it down the corridor. The reply was a Carver. Tall, malevolent, arrogant it came, striding with the staff horizontal at its side. An azure flash and the barrel of the huge gauss cannon slopped to the floor. It stepped over Wides inert body and kicked the half-tonne gun out of its path before swinging the blade end at the tumbling gunners, slaying them before they could touch the ground. The last soldier wielding a laser-rifle took aim and unleashed a beam of melting red at the Carver. The light was fractured and cast around the room by the diamond-like coating on the breastplate. The soldier screamed as the Carver retaliated. Wide unleashed a wild barrage of bullets from his weapon. The ammunition ate through the vertebrae plates and out of the chest and right shoulder. The Carver turned, wires hanging from the chest cavities, sparking. As Wide arose to take one final, desperate, stand against his attacker, the right arm and the staff dropped to the floor useless; the Carver seized him by the throat and pinned him against the wall. Its artificial voice rang out metallic and masculine. We will have the device. Craic has requested it. The last things Sergeant Wide ever saw were three black-silver fingers reaching for his face and two mercilessly burning eyes of icy azure.