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Klein walked through the rubble. The dust had mostly settled by now, coating his armor in a light grey layer. And it was quiet. Far too quiet. His experience told him that there was no way all the enemies had been killed in the blast. A few had survived and were either still recovering or repositioning.

To his left, there was movement. Snapping his rifle up, Klein moved in. It was one of the slimes, oozing out of a crack. As he approached it, it shot out a fanged tongue much like a gecko. Smacking it aside, he pulled the trigger. The next second he was thrown backward. The beast had blown up. It had gone and pulled a jihadi on him. Rolling on impact, Klein quickly stood up. All that remained of the slime was a few flames.

Klein counted his blessings. In his early days in the Corps, he had been wounded in such an attack. The jihadist had used ceramic ball bearings and a few cans of butane. Klein escaped the fireball with bruises, a few cuts and a hole in his leg. The bearing had gone clean through making the healing process simpler.

A proximity alert pinged in his ear. Turning, Klein saw the thermal image. Several forms were in the amphitheater. Advancing cautiously, he saw the group. There were four people. The only one he recognized was the assassin Lorcan. Two were dressed like Liorah and her companion. The last was entirely new. He couldn’t see his face but Klein clearly saw the one leg.

This brought questions to his mind as he half slid half climbed down the embankment. If this was one of the last exploration vessels, why was there such numbers of obviously genetical mutated animals and total lack of even basic prosthetics? Why were the clothes so widely varied? And more importantly, who were the two psionic fighters? Were they true psionics or was it one of the more advance weapons the aliens used?

For now he had a more pressing question.

“Is anyone injured?” he asked.