Marcus watched as the Xan-Klar Knight sent forth a long, thick beam of orange light from one of its weapons, the booming sound of plasma superheating air echoing in his ears. Striking the cab of the lorry as the vehicle slammed to a halt, the beam blasted through solid metal as though it were soft plastic, melting everything it touched.

The cab glowed red for an instant, then burst into a deluge of fire and debris, the thunder of the explosion mixing with the screams of the Sirthon terrorists inside as they were engulfed by black smoke and billowing red flames.

His helmet open, cold air washing over his face, Marcus panted heavily, each breath a sigh of relief.

It was over at last.

Turning around, Marcus looked at those he had pulled clear of the lorry. Ambassador Vidal was sat upright on the ground, his hands still bound, but his body unharmed. Lady Taneera was pushing herself to her feet, still moving with a dignity and poise in her posture, even as she had just faced a near-death experience. Lastly, Haraq was half-conscious and slumped face-first upon the ground, still and silent as stone.

Just then, a sound of clunking metal and shifting pistons drummed from behind Marcus. Spinning about, he saw the four-metre-tall Xan-Klar Knight, its body of crimson and gold casting a shadow over him as it was silhouetted against the sky. It stepped slightly forward, and then, with a creak and a hiss, its chest piece opened up.

Immediately afterwards, the armour's pilot was revealed, jumping out of his cockpit and landing upon the floor. Marcus looked at the Xan-Klar in silence, his mind thinking of what to say to the alien that had killed the last of the ambassadors' kidnappers.

The Xan-Klar pilot was tall, standing about a head higher than Marcus. He was dressed in what looked like combat armour that covered him from his neck down to his ankles, his reptilian head bruised black in several places. As with most of his species, he had a long tail, three-fingered hands tipped with short claws, a snout full of sharp, glistening teeth and three jet-black horns that curved upwards from the back of his skull. His scales were blue, much like Lady Taneera's, but not quite the same shade. While Taneera's body was a bright turquoise, this Xan-Klar's scales were a deep, brilliant cobalt blue.

The pilot's three grey eyes looked first to Lady Taneera, and then turned to Marcus.

"Fine work, Unborn Brother." The pilot said, lowering its head to him in a respectful manner. Marcus didn't know if this Xan-Klar was male or female, so he replied choosing his words carefully.

"Thank you, Knight. You were impressive as well," the human said to the alien.

A low, pained moan suddenly cut through their conversation. Both Marcus and the Xan-Klar pilot flung their gazes at Haraq – the perpetrator of the noise. Bloody and bruised, his pink skin notched with cuts, the Sirthon was trying to push himself upright with his left arm, his muscles straining with agony and trembling with every move he made.

Out of nowhere, the blue-scaled Xan-Klar pilot reached up towards the cockpit of his armour and pulled loose an object – a broad-bladed sword, as long as Ambassador Vidal was tall, with a single sharpened edge that ran from its rip down to its handle. Carrying this massive weapon in one hand, the pilot then strode towards Haraq, moving with fearsome purpose as it took every step.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marcus began.

Before Marcus could speak again, the Xan-Klar was already looming over Haraq, had gripped the terrorist by his neck with his free hand, and pressing his sword to his throat!

"For the honour of those you killed, Sirthon filth..." Marcus' translator picked up the pilot's words. "I will wear your bones as trophies, and your skin will blanket my bed..."

Haraq watched as the Xan-Klar lifted its blade, pulling the sword back and preparing to thrust it through the Sirthon's throat. But then, Marcus rushed forward, intervening by gripping the weapon's blunted back edge and holding it like a vice. Then, using whatever power his armour had left, he wrested it away from Haraq's throat.

The pilot resisted his grip, attempting to wrest his weapon free of Marcus' tightening hand. The two then pushed against each other, fighting in dead silence for control of the blade. Despite his stern, ice-cold glare, Marcus was impressed by how strong the alien was - even in his power armour, he had to strain to keep the Xan-Klar's blade in his grip.

The blue-scaled pilot met Marcus' gaze. "What is the meaning of this, Unborn Brother?!" he growled, his teeth bared as his translated words filled Marcus' ears.

"No more death." Marcus replied firmly. "More than enough blood has been spilt today. And besides – this one needs to live."

He spoke in an archaic manner, hoping that his choice of words would resonate better with the Xan-Klar. But the reptile-like alien bared his teeth and growled as he heard Marcus' response.

"The fallen demand vengeance, Unborn Brother! Would you dishonour their memory by letting this vile creature live?!" The Xan-Klar's gestured at Haraq with his snout, then looked Marcus dead-on, his central eye's narrow pupil boring deep into the human's gaze. As he spoke, he kept struggling against Marcus' grip on his sword.

"Would you dishonour their memory by killing the one chance we have for information?" Marcus retorted, his voice stern, but even. "This attack clearly took a lot of planning by the Hand of Reclamation. If we kill Haraq, we might never know what the rest of their plans are..."

As Marcus said that, the blue-scaled pilot's expression changed. His mouth shut slightly, his brandished teeth disappearing behind his scaly lips while his grey eyes no longer burned with anger. Marcus saw something flash across the alien's face – something he through he recognised, but wasn't quite sure what it was.

Did he see... uncertainty? Concern? Indecisiveness?

The pilot turned his head and looked to Lady Taneera. By now, the female Xan-Klar was stood fully upright, surveying the struggle between the two warriors with a calm expression. As the pilot turned to her, she spoke to him.

"Do as the Unborn Brother says, Lothrak Karugen. We shall deal with the Sirthon filth later."

In an instant, the Knight's pilot stopped straining against Marcus' grip. Instead, he immediately pulled his blade back and turned towards his Knight armour. Leaping back inside, the alien sheathed his blade back where he had first drawn it, and then shut the cockpit.

Lothrak Karugen... that name radiated in Marcus' head for a brief moment as he watched the Knight leave, forgoing his need for vengeance after hearing words of common sense both from him and Taneera.

A surprising action, given the well-known ferocity of the Xan-Klar species.

After that, things went surprisingly smoothly. Marcus reached down towards Ambassador Vidal, who was still nearby, and crushed his handcuffs in the same way he had done for Taneera's. Then, as he helped Vidal up, he saw the Xan-Klar Knight, Lothrak Karugen, easily lift up Lady Taneera in one hand and grip Haraq with the other. A jolt of nervousness ran through Marcus as he saw the Knight's massive hand grip Haraq's half-broken body – it would be so easy for him to crush the Sirthon, as each arm bore a metal hand larger than a human torso, each finger was tipped with a long claw of sharpened steel.

But the Xan-Klar Knight did not harm their hostage, which gave Major Winter a burst of relief. Turning to Vidal, Marcus helped the ambassador to his feet, taking care to be gentle. The dignitary had been through a lot, after all.

"Thank you, Major..." the Earther said, still trying to breath deeply and calm himself.

Marcus replied as he lifted Vidal upright. "Just doing what I'm here for, sir."