The magazine itself stank of acid, he had to hold his nose away from the pungent fumes, the acid despite being devastating to organic tissue, was not eating into the ammunition, or any part of the weapon.
He figured that the weapon itself must be constructed of some unknown acid resistant metal, he found that the weapon was actually very simple compared to the ubiquitous E.D. F pulse rifle. The magazine was a simple gravity feed, although the ammunition was barely thicker than a human hair, how it didn’t just shatter upon hitting something, the sergeant had no idea.
The ammunition itself seemed to be dropped into a kind of guide rail within the firing chamber. A locating pin poked through a tiny hole in the centre of the lethally sharp, disc shaped projectile.
When Rachthausen pressed the trigger, he noticed that this pin spun incredibly fast, and then shot forward along a central groove in the chamber, the groove itself was deeper at the end that the beginning, allowing the locating pin, to disappear within it. The pin shot forward so fast, and spun so quickly, that Rachthausen barely even saw it once it fired.
He could only applaud the engineering of this thing, the guide rails were so smooth, and so slippery, it was as if they were Teflon coated, it offered no resistance to the ammunition travelling along it at all. The tolerances were so exact that it offered very little extraneous movement for the disc, so that it flew perfectly straight, and perfectly true, every time.
What’s more, that little ammunition pod could carry hundreds of these metal slivers inside, due to their hair like width. The only sound it made was the gentle click of the trigger, followed by a slight hum of the pin spinning inside, and then the whistle of the disc as it cut through the air.
It truly was a marvel of engineering simplicity, there were very few moving parts to go wrong, used very little power, and could carry a massive amount of ammunition, and hardly ever jammed to boot. Fortunately for them, it could be used against their enemies just as easily. He immediately called for Anderson to use this weapon against them, rather than their own.
Drax and his remaining men continued to scurry through the ventilation system, a gentle breeze flowed unceasingly through the cramped pipework, from the series of vacuum pumps above them through to the giant oxygen storage tanks located far below, and out through the rest of the complex.
A silent communication was coming through, audible only to him.
The A.R. uplink came to life again over his left eye, it was Raleon, one of the more inexperienced members of squad two.
“Commander,” Raleon said nervously, “we are falling back, we have taken eighty percent casualties, and have encountered heavy resistance on the third floor.”
“Calm yourself, Raleon. Your men have no doubt fought bravely, worthy of the Kallan name.”
“Err….yes, sir.”
Drax had already lost three of his own men so far, but to lose eight like that was inexcusable, he made a mental note to have them both executed for gross incompetence, once the hunt was over.
“Join up with us, we are on the second floor, science wing.”
“Yes sir,” Raleon said with renewed vigour.
With that the communication ceased, “young bloods,” Drax murmured to himself with distain as he continued to creep forward through the narrow pitch black tunnels, using his helmets nightvision mode to see.
He briefly switched to thermal view, there was nothing showing up within range, however they would have to search the floor anyway. These interlopers were cunning, as he had already found out.
Two more Dracos warcruisers had dropped out of plasma drive on the fringes of the Auriga system, they had picked up on the communication the Flame of Celthris had sent earlier. Their sleek, black, crescent shaped forms powered up as they inexorably ventured further into the system. Past the tiny, barren, frozen ice world of Auriga VII, the enormous gas giants of Auriga V and VI, Auriga VI being a grey-white in colour due to the vast amounts of dry ice that swirled amongst its kilometres thick gaseous soup.
Auriga IV was a runaway greenhouse world, its thick carbon dioxide atmosphere trapped heat given off by the Aurigan sun over millennia down on the surface, where over millions of years, the planet steadily increased in temperature. Today it had a mean surface temperature of one thousand, five hundred degrees Fahrenheit, volcanoes are constantly active on its surface, throwing out great clouds of dust and debris, and the incredibly hot searing winds can reach up to three hundred kilometres per hour. The whole planet was a hot house, a death trap to life.
Eventually as they explored further into the system, they found the orbiting form of the Flame of Celthris.
“Two ships approaching, sir, they are Dracos, identified as the Blade of Rhovanion, and the Vengeance of Kelmarroth.”
“Understood Halloth,” Kaelleth nodded toward his junior sensory officer, working at the sensory station within a recessed pulpit to his right.
So they brought the Blade of Rhovanion herself, this must be big news to attract the flagship of the Dracos fleet.
Another massive blast of bright orange energy shot past the two approaching warcruisers, bathing their dark, brooding forms in a gentle orange glow as they neared the Flame of Celthris. Their dark crescent shaped silhouettes and bladed fins along their flanks, almost made it look like some meeting between giant black spiders was taking place.
“Incoming communication,” Halloth announced.
“Let’s hear it.”
The features of a slightly aged Dracos filled the screen, his eyes black as jet, his skin pale, yet the figure possessed an aura of power, and a strict sternness that belied his withered appearance. It was Calvaris Senergid, the commander of the Blade of Rhovanion, and commander of the entire Dracos fleet.
Kaelleth visibly stiffened, it wasn’t every day he got to speak to a man with as legendary a name as Senergid. He was one of the very few, who could still remember the great betrayal three centuries ago, and travelling across the stars to a new future, eventually settling on the Dracos homeworld, Corvandris.
“Where is Drax?” Senergid asked.
“He has travelled to the surface with an assault team to clear out some interlopers that had infested the purity of the station, lord.” Kaeleth replied with considerable deference to the man who far outranked him.
“You are to be congratulated, the eye of the Dracos is one of the highest prized of all the halo worlds, it was this world that supplied the majority of the power needs for the fledgling Dracos empire three hundred years ago.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kaeleth replied, nodding respectfully once again, “If I may sir, why did our people abandon it?”
“At the time, we were reeling from the great betrayal, and were being hunted down and driven from planet-to-planet. The enemy were merciless, they would capture and destroy our fleets, blast our planets from orbit. We teetered on the edge of being wiped from the face of the galaxy.” Senergid’s face gave the expression that he relived those horrible times from when he was a child, whenever he spoke of the betrayal. “It was during one of these attacks when we were forced to abandon the planet. The facility was shut down, and the few remaining Dracos ships passed through the veil and found Corvandris. Wherever since, we have been quietly biding our time and rebuilding our strength.” Senergid paused to inhale a raspy, wheezing breath. “Until now myself, and the few Dracos still living who can remember back to those days had simply forgotten the planet, lost in the fog of everyday survival. We did not wish to reclaim a new world so soon anyway, as we were a badly depleted people, and if we left the safety of the veil to re-occupy the planet, we might alert our enemies to our presence. It was deemed too great a risk, until it violently reactivated two days ago.”