Chronicles of the Juggernaut War

Lieutenant Foster stabbed his injured comrade with a life injection. The young soldier gasped in shock, as the nanobots crawled through his bloodstream, repairing the damaged tissue. He would live to fight another day. Behind them, the sounds of pulse grenades echoed through the vast cavity that was engine room of the Dreadnought. “Fucking hell. I almost kicked the bucket there”, exclaimed the soldier. He was looking around for his rifle. “Easy, son. Don’t go charging in yet. You’ll only get shot again. Stay down and rest for a while”. Foster handed him his canteen to drink from, and he looked around to check if they were still secure.

The Drogbak were like vultures. They would look for the weakened prey when deciding their quarry. He peaked around the fuel tank that they were using as their temporary refuge to see if any threats were nearby.

There. A single Drogbak was inching towards them, its scales opening and closing at a rapid pace. It had no need for weapons, for it was one. Its razor claws were soaking red with blood, surely from another poor soul who was not as lucky as them.

There was a time when Foster would ponder over how both humans and aliens had turned out so alike. Both bipedal with a heart and lungs and all the other major organs. But then he got busy getting shot at by them, and so he forgot to care.

The scales on the Drogbak’s arms began to emit a pink gas. Something they did to try and mask their presence. Foster signalled the soldier to be ready, as he readied his rifle to kill.