“Return fire,” he ordered.  Shots rang out as the Marines engaged their targets.  He saw an alien head disintegrate as an armour-piercing bullet, intended to punch through armour comparable to the armour the Marines themselves wore, slammed through its target and went onwards.  “Take them all out.”

Two Marines fell, alerts popping up in his HUD, as they rushed the camp, but the aliens suffered worse.  Despite not being taken by surprise, they had had no time to prepare proper defences before the Marines came down and surrounded them.  Charles couldn't help wondering if the aliens had seriously believed the human forces would never reach the camp or if the soldiers guarded it had been rated as expendable.  But the aliens still fought, no matter how helpless their position, and died in place.  Charles found himself caught between a kind of reluctant admiration and a cold, dispassionate disdain.  The aliens could have withdrawn from the camp before the Marines landed and saved their lives.

The camp’s gateway was another piece of solid metal.  Charles muttered orders and the demolition team went to work, blowing the gateway right off its hinges.  Inside, he saw a handful of metal buildings – they looked to have been designed by humans, rather than aliens – and a number of human prisoners, staring at the Marines as if they were creatures from another world.  All of them were naked, even the women and children.  It made sense, he knew; it was hard for a naked human to conceal a weapon.  Hell, the aliens weren't likely to be interested in human bodies ...

... But it still didn't make it any easier to bear.

“Most of them are clearly Mexican,” Yang muttered.  “But some of the others are not so recognisable.”

He was right, Charles realised.  Who would have thought that the reporter had actually come in useful?  Pushing the thought aside, he activated his suit’s speakers.  It struck him, a moment later, that they might not actually speak English, before dismissing the thought as absurd.  English was a common second language in space, as well as the official language for all deep space activities.  Most of the POWs would definitely speak English.

“Attention,” he said.  The POWs still looked listless, despite the appearance of salvation.  It bothered him more than he cared to admit.  “We’re the Royal Marines, from Earth.  We’re here to take you off this mudball, assuming you want to go.”

The shuttles flew lower, then dropped down towards the cleared LZ.  For once, the POWs showed some reaction – absolute terror.  Charles blinked in surprise, wondering if they would have to knock the POWs out just to get them onto the shuttles, then relaxed as the shuttles touched down.  As soon as the roar of their engines faded away, the POWs relaxed and stopped panicking.

“Women and children first,” Charles ordered.  Thankfully, the POWs didn't seem inclined to argue.  “Get into the shuttles and strap yourselves down.  Hurry!”