Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) (11 page)

First Officer Petaski spun round from the flashing console, his eyes wide with excitement, ‘Admiral! They are communicating with the transporter…Alexion One is requesting a link!’

Admiral Karladen grinned widely, indicating to his intelligence officer, ‘Excellent News…go and get an update as to the situation…Petaski, mobilise the soldiers nearby…have them proceed through the link as soon as possible…how long before it’s activated?’

The Sky Commander glanced back down, running his hand across the screen and smiling widely, ‘About ten minutes…we had better get the soldiers through quickly…I am not sure we will get many more!’

The Admiral was striding across the command deck, ‘Get them all through as fast as you can…as soon as I get the update, I will head back towards the Prime Minister’s location…see if we can scrounge any further forces.’ He hesitated, turning and raising his finger, ‘Get as many spare arms from the space station as you can…not standard assault rifles, but the specialist weapons…the space station can produce them, we cannot! We need as many examples as we can find for the human factories.’

The cylinder began to rotate slowly at first, the intelligence officer donning his protective goggles as he stood before the vast machine. Two blue uniformed technicians worked alongside the long machine, running their hands over the consoles and monitoring the power surges. As the lights began to get brighter, the tunnel walls spun faster and faster, a vortex of air beginning to form in the centre as the room lights dimmed to flashing red, the illuminations reflecting off the shining grey walls.

In the next room, Dryden stood before the mass of soldiers, his armoured helmet moving from side to side as he inspected the many nationalities before him. Slowly, he paced the ten deep long line, a queue of soldiers extending behind into the armoury as the last of the troops joined behind.

Nodding as he came to the end, he inspected the sixteen staff from the battle cruiser, all dressed in the last combat uniforms available. Turning sharply on his heels, the rubber boots squealing on the shiny surface, he raised his voice officially, ‘The Trevakian Empire is very grateful for the assistance offered by your nations. You represent some of the initial cooperation between our two worlds in the fight against evil…a war we must win to ensure our survival.’ He hesitated, awaiting the numerous murmurs from translators to subside, ‘Our enemy is strong and without mercy…slaughtering the wounded and civilians alike…’ He stopped abruptly, staring out into the two thousand soldiers and warming to the determined expressions, ‘Once you reach our space station you will be equipped with our finest body armour and assault rifles, but do not be under any illusion that this will keep you from harm’s way…the enemy is equipped with weaponry that is equally as capable and armour that is possibly superior…’ He waited once more, hearing the other languages slowly finish before continuing, his voice rising, ‘If the enemy is wounded, then you finish them…show no mercy…it is kill or be killed!’ Dryden acknowledged the station officer indicating from the back of the room that the transporter was almost ready, ‘First human reaction to space transportation is a shortness of breath and nausea…this will pass. Move quickly from the portal on the other side and allow any wounded to come through…station personnel should be waiting for you on the other side to offer directions.’ He grimaced, seeing the protective goggles being frantically distributed, ‘Keep your eyes on the man in front and do not look directly into the light…your combat helmets will be issued on the other side…’

Dryden checked that the assembled soldiers were donning their goggles, indicating for the doors to the transporter room to be opened as he sighed, grasping his assault rifle, ‘First Line…Move! Your Time is Now!’

The squeal of boots echoed across the walls as the doors parted, a loud metallic clunk resounding across the figures as bright light poured into the room. Dryden’s visor snapped down in response, the colour shading deep black almost immediately as he urged the men forward, a station technician stood on the ramp as Dryden shouted, ‘Stay on one side…the wounded will come back through…’

The stamping of boots filled the air as the soldiers marched forward, the first nearing the ramp as a silhouette appeared through the lights, Dryden raising his arm to his chest sharply as he recognised the senior officer stepping through from the other side.

Admiral Shadian saluted back, the intelligence officer stepping forward sharply as he saw the dust and smeared dirt on the officer’s uniform, ‘This way Sir…’

Shadian shouted back over the noise, the bright lights flashing behind him, ‘We have wounded for your medical stations…’ He waved frantically, ‘Get them through quickly…we only have enough power for a short time! We need to retake Alexion One!’

The Mercedes limousine swept through the darkening streets of West London, accelerating through Earls Court towards the Embankment as six armed police motorcyclists drove before it. Most of the street and shop lighting was now dimmed, house lighting banned without thick curtains to obscure the glare. Two black Range Rovers drove in front and behind the Mercedes, Admiral Karladen sat in silence next to his intelligence officer in the rear seat of the front large vehicle, the German built limousine a decoy.

Police officers on the pavements on either side shouted at pedestrians and residents to stay back, an alternating designated route cleared through West London every two hours. Several soldiers now patrolled with each police unit, their camouflaged combat uniforms amusing the armed special agents sat either side of the Admiral and several chatting in the large vehicle to the rear, one smirking, ‘I bet they have no live ammunition…’

The specialist police driver turned his head slightly as the vehicles sped across the junction with Old Brompton Road, his voice dismissive, ‘On the contrary…there have been three gun battles at least apparently…one in Wandsworth, another in Shepherds Bush and one in Poplar…I don’t think the drug dealers were quite expecting such an armed response…most were simply killed by the army!’ He shrugged, grinning with pride, ‘The Metropolitan Police is raiding every known criminal ring in the capital and taking advantage of the eight o’clock curfew…the scum are now sitting ducks after dark!’ He dropped his foot from the accelerator as the motorbike brake lights shone brightly at the next junction, the vehicle slowing, ‘There are rumours of one drug gang just giving up when a tank rolled up to their warehouse in the east end! Dunno about that one though…’

Admiral Karladen sat in grim deep thought, staring at the lights and startled pedestrians through the blackened reinforced and bullet proof glass on either side. The news from Zaxon B had been far from encouraging, the space station badly damaged with enemy shock troops fighting station personnel on the upper floors. Reports from fighter pilots landing at the station had been equally as bad, with the land war on the surface seeming to slip from the Trevakians grasp by each day.

He straightened his uniform, smiling gratefully as one of the agents in front offered him a bottle of water, his thoughts immediately darkening once more. More soldiers were needed to defend the far away planet and the only current source was from their new allies, a world now seemingly facing isolated attacks on its surface without warning. As the vehicles sped along the side of the Thames River, the Admiral slipped deeper into thought, his mind struggling with questions he had no answers to…’Where was the Trevakian main fleets…had the Morgon warships been called away to defend a relief effort to Zaxon B? How was the war on other planets going?’ And the question that troubled him most of all, a burning irritation to him, ‘How many Morgons were possibly on earth…and how had they got here unnoticed?’

The one thing he knew for certain was clear, any enemy that was here would have to be defeated fast…to encourage the humans to send more reinforcements through the portal. Perhaps there was actually an advantage to the current situation to be grasped…

Brad Zeiss was still running, the panic churning his stomach as his rubber beach soles slapped against the sidewalk. His chest heaving and sweat drenching his muscled frame, he had skirted to the south of Ocean Park and was running north towards West Hollywood. Heading for the apartment he shared, his mind was in turmoil, wondering if there would be time to escape the city and violence that was clearly about to arrive.

Bewildered residents stared out from the windows of apartment blocks on either side, tears in their eyes as they took in the smoke plumes rising from the coast, the damaged buildings burning out of control. People ran or shuffled past on either side of the street, their expressions strained with fear as the city sirens wailed in the distance.

Brad gasped for breath, the heat swelling in his bare chest as his legs ached. Slowing to a stop, he glanced upwards, the vapour trails filling the sky as the US Air Force engaged Morgon fighters in a battle to the death. Helicopters swept low overhead towards the beach, his sweat filled eyes stinging as he glimpsed the small military black craft, masked soldiers hanging from the open doors as the rotors above swirled dust and debris upwards from the streets. The US Marines staring down in disbelief at the city below, the jam packed streets and flashing emergency lights seeming to be off a set from one of the nearby film studios.

His adrenalin soared as he took in the thick dark smoke plumes beginning to rise across the skyline to the north and east. The central skyscrapers burning out of control as aircraft swept past on either side, flames shooting into the air as jets crashed or buildings imploded, a large office block crumbling then collapsing downwards as dust billowed upwards. Pushing his body forward, cars streamed past in either direction, horns blaring as people desperately attempted to get to their homes or reach loved ones. A police cruiser shot past in the middle of the road, its sirens wailing pointlessly as other vehicles no longer attempted to move over, their drivers oblivious to anything but their own emergencies.

Tears filled his eyes as he thought of his elderly grandparents in Milwaukee, the worry and stress they would be experiencing as they sat by the television and radio seeking news, their only remaining family member lost in Los Angeles. He thrust his body forward, running past startled pedestrians as they stared upwards, explosions and tracer fire filling the sky as the black craft swept over the city against the might of the ‘F’ series US fighters.

Brad sucked air, the emotions swirling around his mind as he thought of his mother and father, both killed in a car crash when he was ten, his grandparents assuring a young boy that they would be looking over him from above, making sure he would not make a mistake or come to harm.

His pace increased as he heard gunshots behind, the store owner shouting abuse as he fired after the thieves, the running youths ducking instinctively as the shopkeeper ran back to care for his injured wife. The commencement of looting had now becoming a low priority for the LAPD, most of their vehicles and personnel now dealing with security issues in other parts of the city…their radio response transmissions jammed. Screaming filtered through his mental anguish as he ran into Santa Monica Boulevard, the wide thoroughfare almost crammed with people and vehicles as the panic and struggle to get east…away from the coast…had begun.

Brad jostled through the stationary traffic and people, his eyes catching a glimpse of some figures simply sitting outside the many bars or cafes in the sunshine, a few residents and tourists resigned to what they individually perhaps believed would be a pre-determined fate. Self-selected wine and spirit bottles sat on the tables, the waiting staff simply handing over the alcohol in ironic understanding as they themselves fled from the establishments.

Running east, Brad struggled along the sidewalk amongst the throng of people, the panicked pushing and shoving unbalancing him, but also sapping his resolve. Several fell, their cries for help going unheard as he winced, the crunch of one car bumper against another as people fell over each other on the sidewalk. Dismissing the route along the pavement, he jogged between the nudging cars and ran up the centre of the wide street, passing several empty vehicles as people simply got out to flee, the drivers behind seemingly oblivious in their mentally impotent panic. Sirens wailed amongst the blaring horns, ambulances struggling past towards the coast as he stumbled, his legs aching from the exertion. An explosion to the south, black flamed smoke billowing into the air, the subsequent screams and occasional gunshot echoing out spurring him on.

After a further thirty minutes, he saw his destination ahead, the entrance to Franklin Street. Pushing his tired legs further, he summoned his last strength and ran forward, diagonally between the stationary vehicles as he darted from side to side. The screams intensified behind him as he slowed near the corner, turning to stare west and upwards as his eyes widened in horror. On the horizon, three dots swept down from high over the ocean, the craft lining up with the choked artery of Santa Monica Boulevard.

Brad strained his eyes as he gradually backed towards the corner, the dots accelerating and sweeping over the beach and into the city, a mechanical scream echoing along the thoroughfare from underneath the craft. He gasped as explosions suddenly rocked the end of the wide street, cars and vans tossed into the air as flames leapt upwards. Bright lights smashed against the tarmac, tearing chunks from the road and incinerating pedestrians as the black fighters swept onwards, their lasers firing continuously, the mechanical scream wave engulfing survivors below. Buildings exploded on either side, flames roaring upwards behind the black craft as the strafing run continued. The terrified and panicked shouts filled his ears as he forced his head away, lunging and shoving through the frightened staring people on the sidewalk and into the side street as the tears formed in his eyes, his breath becoming sharper.

Trees were burning in the distance, flames and smoke rising into the air as an apartment block near Wilshire Boulevard burned out of control. Several people ran past, muffled gun shots in the surrounding streets as two US jets swept westwards overhead, Brad ducking instinctively as another loud explosion erupted off to his left, the fuel tanks of a gas station exploding. The black fighters roared past behind him, their canopies glinting in the bright sun, lasers still crackling and screeching as the terrifying mechanical scream continued along Santa Monica Boulevard.

Gasping, he lunged across the street, car tyres screeching as a vehicle skidded out of the carpark further up the road, the driver heading north for Wilshire and more stationary traffic. A motorcycle burbled past in the other direction, the rider staring blankly in shock at Brad as the topless youth mounted the pavement, sprinting the last few yards to the apartment block he knew.

Reaching the wide doorway, he swore under his breath in frustration as he realised the keys were in his jacket, hanging in his locker in the lifeguard station. He stabbed his finger on the buzzer, his eyes rising up the outside of the block as he prayed the call would be answered. Stubbing his finger on the button again, he held it depressed, the muffled screams from Santa Monica Boulevard ringing in his ears as further eruptions burst nearby to the south and north.

Holding his breath, he felt the sweat running down his outer chest as he waited, his heart leaping as a female voice answered the intercom, the tone clearly scared and wary, ‘H-hello?’

Brad gasped into the microphone, ‘Mrs Kim! Thank god…its Brad…are you ok Ma’am?’

The voice was broken, almost overcome with fear and grief, ‘Brad…I was so worried…come up! Where is your key?’ The electronic lock buzzed, the young man heaving the door open and breathlessly climbing the stairs two at a time.

Nearing the front door, it swung open, the elderly Korean lady glancing out into the corridor cautiously, a smile flicking across her face as she looked straight at him, her hand beckoning, ‘Come inside quickly…its very dangerous outside I think.’ She stepped aside as he slipped past her, walking into the main living room as he heard the bolts close on the door behind, his landlady’s voice strained, ‘Mr Daniels from next door has gone to see if he can find out what is happening…he said he would be back soon, but has been gone over an hour now…’ She shook her head, ‘I made him tea…it’s not like him to take so long, I am worried…’

Brad turned to her, the small Korean lady stepping into the sunlit room, ‘Mrs Kim…we have to leave now…gather some things and we will get your car…’ He shook his head in despondency, ‘The roads are blocked…too much traffic…I don’t know how we will get out now!’

The lady was dressed in a lavish blue oriental robe, her favourite. She shook her head dismissively, ‘I must stay here by the phone…in case the children ring…besides, I am sure Mr Daniels will be back soon. He will know what to do…we can take his car.’ She stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, ‘Get yourself that nice leather jacket I have seen you in before and put some jeans on…’ She smiled lovingly and reflectively as she stared up into his eyes, ‘You have been like a son to me these two years…so helpful and charming.’ She smiled reassuringly, ‘Take my boy’s motorcycle from the garage…head east and get back to your grandparents…’ She smiled widely, ‘I will ring them when the lines are clear and tell them you are ok…I imagine my Jong-Kyun will be trying to contact me soon…I don’t know where he is stationed at present…military secrecy and the like…you can get the bike back to him later?’

Brad shook his head dismissively, ‘Mrs Kim, we need to go…and now! It is very dangerous outside. Mr Daniels is in his sixties and will not be able to protect you…’

He looked away in frustration as the South Korean lady smiled again, ‘I will be fine here…I will lock the door and wait for Mr Daniels…you go on ahead, we will find you when this is all over…I have your number and address.’

The motorcycle engine roared in the underground garage, Brad pushing the red helmet down over his matted hair as he nodded farewell to Mrs Kim by the lifts, the smell of the beach catching in his nostrils. The security grille at the entrance to the carpark rose as he engaged gear, his eyes fixing on the lady that had taken care of him for two years. Brad waved briefly, swallowing hard as he gunned the engine again, then slipped the clutch, the powerful bike slowly moving into the sunshine as the grille began to lower.