Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3), page 17
Forcing himself upright, his eyes fixed on the main viewing screen, the images flickering. At the far side of the planet, the Morgon warships began to emerge, his breath held as he glimpsed more fighters surging from their decks. Emergency lights flashed across the bridge, the electronic voice bursting through the speakers, ‘Warning…Enemy ships now within range…Torpedo alert…enemy ships preparing to fire!’
The vessel shook again, the severe grinding and screeching of metal an indication the hull was weakening, Chergui glancing round his crew as they frantically ran their hands across the consoles, his breath held as he shouted hoarsely, ‘Set full speed ahead…target the lead Warship as trajectory…Fire all torpedoes!’ The operators glanced up in alarm, the vice Admiral’s face flushed with defeat, ‘Do it quickly…then everyone to the escape pods!’ He spun round, indicating to the bridge security first officer, ‘Set pods to land in the United Kingdom…all personnel to make their own way to Admiral Karladen!’ He straightened, his teeth gritted as he glanced across the faces staring at him, the ship rocking once more as metal screeched loudly, ‘It has been my pleasure to serve with you all…be safe Trevakians…’ The Vice Admiral gasped, his voice breaking as he shouted, ‘Abandon Ship! Your time is now!’
His first officer rose to his feet abruptly, his fist smacking against his chest, ‘It has been our honour Sir…’ The second in command glanced down, ‘Ship’s trajectory set…on your mark, engines will engage in forty earth seconds…torpedoes ready and armed…’
The Vice Admiral leant forward, grimacing as the lead Warship began to climb above the blue earth atmosphere in the distance, ‘Fire all! Crew to pods…I will engage engines…now move!’
The operators scrambled from their positions, all running for the reinforced exit doors as boots squealed on the polished floor, the lights flashing across their silhouettes. Chergui glanced down, the console in front of him announcing all torpedoes had just been fired, his hand slowly moving to the red flashing light, the icon that would engage full engines.
The security first officer stepped forward, his voice grim, ‘Sir...I estimate your own pod to be at least a fifty second run from your current position…there will not be time for you to make it…’
The Morgon fighter pilot’s eyes widened in surprise as multiple torpedoes swept from the battleship, their green glowing engines powering forward across the upper atmosphere. He shook his head, a tongue running across scaled lips as his black vessel swept forward, the lasers flickering as he pressed the fire button on his console, streaks of energy surging towards the large ship ahead, the sixteen other fighters following their leader into the attack.
Chapter Twenty One: Room 311, Hilton Hawaiian Village Hotel , Hawaii
Brian Jacobs stared through a crack in the curtains nearest the wall, looking out into the sunshine and onto the beach in the distance. The blue-green clear ocean waves sparkled with the late evening sunlight, deserted and abandoned luxury cars filling the road before the hotel and along the coastal strip, their doors still open. Several bodies lay amongst the trees and along the beach, blood trails demonstrating the futile last few yards of life, brutally wounded victims crawling or staggering in an effort to escape before being mercilessly and finally cut down.
Several now stray dogs cautiously nudged their lifeless owners, their small innocent and loving minds unable to comprehend why they had been out all day, why their regular meals had not been prepared and what their masters were doing, their behaviour stranger than normal, a couple nuzzling the still humans in vain attempts to wake them.
Brian’s eyes fixing on one small long haired terrier, obediently sitting by its still and dead human companion, the small dog slowly lowering itself to lay respectfully next to the corpse, its head dropping onto the sand between its paws. The Englishman swallowed, his sight becoming blurred as high emotion and dread filled his eyes, the numerous figures emerging from the trees below and proceeding out across the beach.
His breath caught as the black armoured silhouettes marched confidently along the sand, their thick alloy boots scuffing and marking the surface as they advanced. Slung over their shoulders, the long rifles and sparkling blades that had dealt such devastation and brutal murder, wet blood sparkling on their back plates as they marched. The column emerged in lines of three, following their commanders obediently as the black figures began to stretch along the beach, the waves crashing against the sand to their right. The Englishman gasping as one by one the figures continued to emerge, amounting to over one hundred in a matter of seconds, three hundred in all.
Marching round the distant bend on the beach, he glanced back into the room, his wife sitting on the lush carpet and leaning against the bed, her arms folded in dissatisfaction. Their young children lay cuddled on the bed, their deep breathing betraying a restful sleep, the confused intense excitement peaks of the day proving too much to prevent the onset of exhaustion.
Slowly his head moved back to the window, eyes widening as he saw others moving along the beach. Further black armoured figures had emerged, their weapons held across their chests as they advanced along the sand. Behind them, humans crept forward, their bodies hunched in misery and subservience as the soldiers either side urged them on with their rifles.
Brian shook his head as he recognised some hotel uniforms, a young chef, his whites covered in blood as he stumbled forward…the hotel concierge and receptionist, both bruised and beaten as they glanced round in fear. Then his blood seemed to freeze in his veins, one of the black armoured figures turning and staring upwards, directly at him, the eyes seeming to glow as an armoured fist rose briefly towards him, then out in the direction of the ocean. He sucked air, falling backwards as his heart pounded, his body slumping by the side of the bed as Moira glanced round, her face contorting in anguish as she shuffled towards him.
Her forgiving voice was reassuring as she ruffled his hair, whispering to him softly, ‘It will be ok…they left us alone…we have the children…they showed mercy.’ Tears fell from her eyes across his cheek as his body shook, the sheer relief filling his chest as he hugged her tightly, their love filling his heart once more as he realised the danger had potentially passed.
Gradually they parted, tears in Brian’s eyes as he kissed his wife passionately, their bodies pressing against one another briefly as one of the children stirred, a startled subdued slumbered word, ‘Mummy?’
Then he thoughtfully rose to the window again, stifling a cough as he pushed the curtain back slightly and staring out into the lowering red glow of sunlight once more. The glistening waves still crashed against the beach, the last distant silhouettes trooping miserably into a long angular craft that sat on the water’s edge.
As the rear doors gradually rose, Brian sniffed, half in sorrow, half in relief. Wiping his eyes, he watched as the tracks of the strange vehicle spun briefly, sand cascading from the rear as they gained traction before surging forward into the water, the surf exploding around the alloy hull as it pushed further into the salt water.
The ocean bubbled furiously around the hull as the vessel progressed, finally disappearing beneath the waves as he stared out, the air exhaling from his lungs in ultimate, yet guilt ridden relief. They had survived, but many others had not…death had faced them face to face and yet allowed survival…why?
He looked briefly across the dogs on the beach once more, then back into the room, smiling fondly as he saw his wife cradling their son, tears flowing from her eyes as her body shook in happiness…their future secured. He determined to go downstairs, to close his eyes to the devastation and bloodied corpses…he would find food and drinks…secure the family in the room and venture further, to seek help and a way out of this ghastly place. They would return to Britain and move to Scotland as suggested, away from the problems and anguish of the southern cities and human race.
Feeling reassured and resolute, he glanced back out into the glorious sunset, his face pressing forward in confusion as the dogs suddenly bolted, running from the sand at high speed. The trees shook slightly as numerous birds rose into the air, circling across the bay, then rising into the air over the hotel as they flew towards the mountains.
Brian stared more intently out into the surf as the waves glistened, crashing against the golden beach once more, blood streaks sucked down the sand towards the water’s edge and the lifeless figures shuddered against the waves.
He glanced round as Moira thrust a glass of Champagne into his hand, her eyes glistening in the fading light as he stared into her face, his chest filling with intense emotion as he looked upon the woman he loved so much, her hand slipping round him and rubbing his back fondly.
She reached forward, pulling the door to the balcony across as he smiled, the warm night air sweeping through the opening curtains as they stepped out. Moira’s eyes closed as she glimpsed the shadowed bodies across the beach, her hand rising to her mouth in shock, ‘Will we leave soon please?’
Brian looked down at her smiling, ‘Yes…as soon as we can, my love. We will go back to Britain and move north…Loch Ness and tutors for the children.’ He lifted his arm around her and squeezed, ‘Three or four dogs…maybe a pub, I dunno…we will get away from it all…’
The voice came from inside, the male child’s voice scared as he rubbed his eyes, ‘Mummy…where are you?’
Moira glanced up to him, winking, then pushed herself away, her hips moving seductively as she forced a smile, ‘Duty calls…’
Brian nodded, reaching into his trousers for the cigarettes and raising the packet to his mouth. Manipulating one of the filters between his lips, he placed the packet back into his pocket and flicked the lighter, drawing on the flame and smoke as he leant forward onto the steel bar around the balcony.
He stared outwards, the warm breeze seeming to rise as he raised the burning cigarette to his mouth again, his head lifting as he sipped from the glass. Drawing on the filter, he closed his eyes, the embracing wind engulfing his features before he looked over the sea again, his eyes widening in horror.
The water was retreating rapidly, revealing further bodies in the sand, the blood trails following the sea water as it surged outwards dramatically. Brian squinted, staring out into the darkening ocean as his nerves twitched with adrenalin, the waves sucked from the wide expanse of sand outwards. Distant whirring of blades, then a rushing roar sweeping across him in an overwhelming wall of sound.
Blackness filled the horizon, the red sunset dissipating, then disappearing, as distant dots of helicopters came into view, his eyes widening as the wind intensified, the curtains sucked outwards to either side of him as if a violent storm approached. He realised the signs, the immense wall of darkened water approaching at unbelievable speed as lights flickered across the open sand stretching into the distance.
He spun round, lunging back through the open doors as the curtains ripped from their mountings and swept billowing outwards to a seeming freedom. Moira turned as he jumped on the bed, his arms gathering the family together in a tight embrace as she whimpered, the air surging from the room as the lights flickered.
The immense dense wall of water swept forward, tearing across the sea bed as the salt liquid swirled with dirt and mud. The family huddled together in terror as the building began to shake, light bulbs shattering as the Tsunami powered towards the islands. The surviving humans on Hawaii ran in terror through devastated streets as the ocean swept forward, some simply sipping deeply from bottles of spirits as their houses shuddered and darkened, the lights failing across the island.
The US Marines hanging to the outsides of their charges sighed in personal defeat, the race for life having been lost…immense waves and dense water passed beneath them, the engines of their helicopters screaming as the pilots desperately attempted to beat the advancing tide from hell. The refuelling support planes circled the island, their pilots staring down in despondent disbelief at the impending disaster below, terrified civilians screaming upwards at the aircraft as the deep rumble approached.
As the wall of water surged up and along an exclusive beach, Brian tensed further, tears flowing from his eyes as an almost intoxicating scream of devastation shattering the windows, the ocean smacking high against the hotels walls. The intense shrieks of natural forces were deafening as the high rise building toppled backwards, his last desperately screamed words only just heard and comprehended by his wife and children as the building shattered and was swept into the mountains, ‘I love you all so much!’
Chapter Twenty Two: Northern Russia
The many contributories of the Neva River in northern Russia weave several routes through St Petersburg, the waterway only forty-six miles long leading from Lake Lagoda to the Gulf of Finland. The large city straddles the many branches of the river, steeped in a long chequered history from the Russian Royal family through the rise of communism and the Second World War to an example of modern day commercial success.
In warmer weather, the residents would relax on the narrow beaches, their skins absorbing the rays of a northern sun as they watched pleasure craft and tour boats navigate the many waterways. The city trams would glide past as workers and commuters busied themselves with their daily lives, the normality of existence now abruptly ended.
The severe late year frost now gripped the city, the ice cracking and moving along the river as the roads and thoroughfares filled with traffic. Horns blared across the city as the residents attempted to flee, the trams stationary amongst lines of cars in the southern parts of the city, drivers and passengers staring in awe as armoured personnel carriers and tanks clattered across the road surface next to them heading north.
Russian military helicopters hovered overhead as jets roared above, the distant cracks of gunfire urging the civilians onwards towards safety, a glow of fire spreading across the dark sky to the north. Tracers and rockets swept upwards, the flashes and explosions causing panic in nearby streets as police officers struggled to move people southwards, the abandonment of shops and apartments too much of an enticement to local gangs, the commencement of looting invoking vicious reprisals from the authorities in attempts to maintain control.
As cars and vans crawled along the many riverbank highways, some residents reluctantly chose to walk, their heavily padded jackets and trousers reinforced with scarves and other clothing against the bitter sub-zero cold and wind. Their thick gloved hands carried the briefest of possessions, the obvious fighting to the north dissuading most from expending time on planning or packing, a desperate urgency to leave spurring them on. Most trudged along the iced pavements next to the buildings, passing discarded belongings that the people in front had disposed of, their panic beginning to rise as the occasional nearby gunshot was heard.
The creaking and shattering of the river ice was a common sound, underwater currents and pressure causing the solid surface water to shift and grate against other iced formations. With car windows closed and heaters on full, the engines idling and rumbling from the north, the pedestrians struggled against the elements, their padded hoods concealing most of the sound from the waterways.
As the wind rose in ferocity, the bodies braced themselves against the cold, trudging forward towards the southern suburbs and potential safety, their moods despondent as they considered the exposed land south of the city. The loud cracking continued, ice breaking as intense heat was applied from below, the long cylinder torches melting through the thick surface as armoured gloves clawed at the obstruction from beneath.
Several drivers glanced upwards nervously as police helicopters swept low along the rivers, their pilots glancing down into the mirk, the lights from buildings and vehicles on either side preventing a clear sight of the ice. As the whirring rotors passed, dislodged snow and iced flakes surged across the cars and pedestrians, many turning their faces to stare to their front, horns blaring once more in frustration.
No one noticed the black figures scrambling from holes in the ice, the ice encrusted armour ducking low below the river walls as more and more silhouettes ran half crouched across the ice. Gradually, the Morgon infantry began to line the heavily iced wall, their assault rifles and swords drawn as they awaited the command to advance. The commander ran low along the back of his unit, over one hundred armoured soldiers now braced against the wall in readiness. Satisfied they were behind the main Russian units, he raised his hand, dropping it suddenly, the iced black armour surging over the walls and falling on the stationary traffic.
To the north, Russian naval infantry and special forces were fighting a bitter battle of retreat, attempting to delay their adversary in the hope of impending reinforcements approaching from the south.
Juri Medvedev glanced across his squad, their thickly padded uniforms offering comforting protection against the cold. The young officer grimaced as the roar of a jet swept overhead, the rockets sweeping outwards and exploding further down the long wide street. Stealing a look over the bonnets of the abandoned vehicles, he shook his head in disbelief, the burning vehicles and bodies filling the thoroughfare before them and stretching into the distance.
As the explosions tore at the building fronts in the distance, sporadic gunfire tearing through the air, he looked round once more, his voice grim, ‘Comrades…the enemy is at the end of the street…we will hold them in the north until help arrives. Every minute we hold this enemy gives our people time to escape and the army time to move up and reinforce our positions.’ His voice rose in encouragement, the young soldiers’ faces staring at him pensively, ‘This city is Russian…we are Russian…we will defend our homeland from this invader as we have done before…we will not retreat!’
