PROLOGUE - KNEE DEEP IN THE DEAD I was left by myself to defend the perimeter. Our battalion had landed just over an hour ago, ready for combat. One hundred men and women, and I was left alone. I was used to it though. I found that many people took an instant dislike to me, more of a distrust really. I wasn't fully human anymore. I was a NewType; a Neural Enhanced Warrior, the last one still alive. Ten of us were made 384 days ago, connected with 'juice' harnesses to pump various drugs into our already perfected systems. The last one. The first went out gloriously, taking with him some forty seven men in some nameless civil war back on Earth. It was the second that began concern over NewTypes. A week of inactivity proved too much for the NewType, who proceeded to kill the twenty nine other members of his squad in a fit of beserk fury. Three died of drug overdoses, attempting to improve themselves beyond neccessity. Two others finished their tours in the heat of combat. Another lost it's objectives in combat, going beserk and killing over sixty troops from both sides before a heavy weapons squad brought her down. It was reported that she had one hundred and seven bullets in her before she went down. The last one died the best of all. After killing off two squads of his comrades, fifty nine men and women, he had set the base's reactor to overload. The resulting explosion destroyed everything within a ten kilometer radius. He was still moving after that, and was killed by two gunships. I was the last one. I stood alone before the hangar doors, listening to the screams over the open comm link. An hour of shouting, cursing, screaming and gunfire. An hour of people dying. Only Gray Death survived this far; a squad of at most twenty men, now at half that number. Ten men out of a hundred. What the hell was in there? They whispered quietly, moving cautiously down the last access tunnel. They had all gone in excited and anxious, ready to kick some enemy ass. Life was dull on Mars Base, then suddenly the chance for action. Now only ten veterans lived. It was now a battle for survival, no room was left for glory. They should have taken me along, but there was no trust in them for me, the last of the NewTypes. If they could make it out of the compound to the vehicle bay, they would be able to level this entire base in minutes. "Okay everyone, B1 formation. This is it, the final leg. Let's not do anything stupid." Lieutenant Stavens called over the comm. The bay door swished open. "Fuck me ..." Jansen said in a whisper. "Small arms!" Stavens yelled out, soon to be drowned out by shotgun blasts and pistol shots. Screams and unearthly howls were heard in the background. "Move out! Rakens, Moritz, cover the rear! Huffman, take point! Let's move!" Stavens cried over the gunfire, followed by another shotgun blast. "L.T.!" Huffman screamed, "Bastards! Eat this ... aaarrggarrch ..." Another one dead. The rest rode in to the rescue, the heavy chain guns firing. Nine little soldiers, all in a line ... "We're almost home, boys." Stavens said, grunting with relief. "Deevers, ready the launcher. Anything big, you level it." "You got that right, L.T." The elevator came to a stop with a heavy bang, the doors opening quickly. "Mary Mother of God ..." Collins gasped, his voice dropping into nothingness. An other-worldly roar echoed over the comm. Guns opened up, rockets fired. Screams, shouts for cover, roars ... silence. I was the last one. I was used to being alone, months of distrust and hatred lay between myself and the human race. Now it proved to be an inconvenience. The transport ship we arrived in required a crew of five. I could possibly perform the function of three of them, but not all. That left me with one choice; to get to the vehicle bay by myself. The entire battalion, ninety nine human beings, failed to achieve that goal. But then, I'm no human.