Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3), page 23
The Prime Minister stiffened, his head raising sharply as his voice bellowed around the room, ‘Six weeks! We won’t be here in six weeks at this rate…the Americans are struggling after only three days of enemy contact!’
Admiral Karladen raised his hand, the ministers staring at him as silence fell across the room, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may introduce a differing line of thought?’ The Prime Minister nodded for him to proceed, the Trevakian obliging, ‘I suggest we look at this from another angle…the Morgons will be looking to destroy your capability to defend…they are a cunning and divisive race using both politics and an armoured fist.’
The Deputy Prime Minister leant forward, his voice almost a sneer, ‘We know all this…what do we do? That is the question…’
The Prime Minister slammed his fist on the desk in frustration, his face flushed with anger, ‘Let him finish please…’
Admiral Karladen glanced round the room slowly before continuing, ‘We have done some brief study of your history…they have perhaps attacked at key points to disrupt your alliances…the battles in America and Russia are perfectly understandable…two of the strongest nations on earth that are both willing to intervene elsewhere have been targeted to reduce their willingness to help others. The attacks in the far east are potentially designed to alarm the Chinese and draw them out…force them into battles away from home territory and in the lands of mistrusting others. The French campaign is a ‘side-show’ in my mind, a cunning ploy to keep your focus on the south east, hence the lack of air power deployed in support…they are holding the coast to draw French forces away from other areas.’ He straightened, sitting back in his chair, ‘In short, they are preventing you from coordinating a defence across the nations.’ He leant forward once more, ‘There is little to convince me that they will not win at present…they have stronger soldiers and armour and perhaps an overwhelming strength above…’
The Deputy Prime Minister shook his head dismissively as the Admiral continued, ‘However, they have attacked you conventionally even seemingly with the strength above to destroy you completely…I believe they want this planet for a reason…and they want it quickly.’ He shook his head, ‘We have been unable to determine why as yet and this is just a line of thought…but I am sure my fleet will come, it is just a matter of time and your survival…survive long enough and we will be victorious!’
The Prime Minister’s eyes strained, his voice lowering, ‘But how…how do we survive?’
The Admiral shrugged, ‘We must inflict heavy casualties…fight them as viciously as they fight us…and most of all, create defeat for them.’ He smiled fleetingly, ‘If they hesitate, then we will know their forces are weaker than we imagine…I think we need to consider that they may be overconfident. It is madness attacking in so many places unless you have a plan…all the attack points on land are virtually utilising humans as shields to potentially prevent your use of heavy weaponry. Maybe they do not have the resources we think, after all they are stretched across several galaxies fighting against our Trevakian Empire.’ He shifted uneasily in his seat, ‘Why are your skies and the skies of Europe clear when they should have overwhelming fighter strength? They are planning to attack the earth’s stronger nations one by one it seems…perhaps there lies their weakness?’
The Prime Minister nodded thoughtfully, ‘Interesting…I will arrange for you to meet our military chiefs of staff shortly, let us think more tactically…’ His eyes narrowed as the Deputy Prime Minister looked up from his screen in excitement, indicating for him to speak.
The man swallowed hard, ‘Sir, reports of enemy craft engaging our fighters in northern Scotland…the coastline is on full military alert and it seems they have attacked and potentially taken the oils rigs in the North Sea…if true, that will dramatically affect our fuel reserves over the medium term…’ He glanced down again as an uneasy murmur spread across the room, ‘There is also a police escort heading for London, a ‘Vice-Admiral Chergui’ is en-route to us from Yorkshire.’
Admiral Karladen shook his head in despondency, rising to his feet slowly, ‘That will mean the end of our orbiting ships then…’ He looked round the room, seeing the grim faces staring up at him, ‘I will communicate with my ship and await the Vice-Admiral…’ He turned, then hesitated, his tone thoughtful, ‘We must always consider that where there is life…there is always hope…’ The Trevakian turned on his heels and marched from the room, MI6 agents stepping aside as he passed.
One of the agents stepped forward, his eyes dropping as he whispered to the Prime Minister, ‘Sir…I think it is time to vacate the capital for a more secure location…we have prepared several convoys to assist everyone in leaving the city…’
Chapter Thirty: Friend or Foe in the Pastarian System
David Bland cocked his head to one side, staring up through the cockpit windows, his eyes skimming the bright stars above, ‘Where is this ship that is watching us then?’
The Trevakian pilot grimaced, ‘That’s the whole point of it being cloaked…we can’t see it!’ His eyes rolled, moving back to the console before him, ‘There are energy surges around us…so they must be scanning the craft now…’
David Bland stiffened, withdrawing back into his seat quickly, ‘Can they see us?’
The pilot shook his head, ‘Unlikely, I think they are scanning for life signs…it really depends who they are as to what they will do next…’
David grimaced, glancing nervously through the windows, ‘What is likely?’
The Trevakian grinned, ‘That really depends who they are. It is unlikely they are Morgon as they would probably have destroyed us by now…it might be a long distance freighter or supply ship, or it could be a ship from one of the local planets…we have very little detail on this system. We know there are planets capable of sustaining life, but have never ventured here. We were going to build up Zaxon B before exploring this galaxy, the invasion cut that short…’ He tapped the screen before him, several lights flashing with his touch, ‘With the ship crippled, let’s just hope they decide to rescue us now rather than when we run out of water or air…’
The airport manager nodded thoughtfully, ‘Can’t we contact them? Ask them for assistance?’
The pilot shrugged, ‘The fact they are cloaked would indicate they do not want to talk to us as yet…we can’t contact a vessel we have no coordinates for unless I send out a pulse signal. If I do that anyone could hear, including the Morgons or someone else who may wish us harm…it’s probably best we just ignore them until they decide to do something…’
David sighed, slumping back into his seat, ‘Is there any way to fix this ship? I mean, we will just head off into space until we hit something or drop dead otherwise…’
The Trevakian rose from his seat, ‘It is unlikely from inside. I have altered some of the craft’s technical priorities though, the remaining power usage will be minimised and the engine coolants are slowly converting into a drinkable alternative when the water runs out…it won’t taste very nice, but it should add a week, maybe two to our survival. There is some food in the overhead lockers, mostly emergency supplies, but also some containers…they are colour coded depending on the contents, blue…red and green.’ He looked down at David, ‘I will get them later…I need to see if I can generate power for the cells from our momentum…it can be done, but we might both die of old age before I work out how to…I am not a qualified engineer!’
The human’s eyes widened, ‘That’s good…well done…is there anything I can do?’
The pilot grinned, ‘I don’t know what you can do…what are you trained in?’
David thought for a second, his eyes sweeping across the stars, ‘Emergency procedures at an airport, customer service…’ His voice tailed off, ‘Before I worked at Heathrow, I ran a supermarket…at the airport I was head of evacuation response…’
The Trevakian pilot nodded, his head glancing back through the doorway into the rear cabin, ‘Ok…you are in charge of the food then, we need to ration it as much as possible…as for your other ‘skills’, I am not sure I want to evacuate…or that we will meet any customers…just gather all the food together and work out how many days we have on minimal rations.’ He shook his head in frustration, muttering as he stepped back into the rear compartment.
David slumped back in the co-pilots chair, shaking his head in irritation, his voice a whisper, ‘Bloody sarcastic allies!’ Closing his eyes briefly, he leant his head back, breathing deeply and feeling the stress begin to drift from his tense body. His mind wandered as the shuffling in the rear compartment started once more, the pilot adjusting several more of the controls that configured the ships engines.
Drifting back to the airport, he smiled to himself as he thought of some of his favourite staff, their individual issues and family challenges he had supported or attempted to assist with. He wondered what they were doing now, the airport perhaps having resumed commercial flights, the few missing staff temporarily forgotten as passengers quizzed the security officers of their recent visitation and what had occurred.
Then his mind drifted to the officers on the day, the innocent humour of choosing Riaz, Shino, Sam and Debra for uniform trials and what it had led to…he sighed, shaking his head in an attempt to minimise or remove the rising guilt that gripped his chest. His thoughts able to logically determine that he was not to blame, that fate had intervened…the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach advising his conscious thoughts that physically, his body was racked with guilt.
Slowly his eyes flickered open, his mind struggling to push the thoughts away. Then he was wide awake, his body stiffening as he stared wide-eyed out of the cockpit windows, the distant bright stars ahead seeming to shimmer and flicker, the darkness filled with static sparks and blurred movement.
David slowly rose from the seat, mesmerised by the sight as a distant light seemed to pulse, the green glow growing in intensity as it seemed to move towards him, his pupils contracting as the horizontal line of light filled the cockpit. The scan moving up and down and almost embracing his skin as he stared out in to the darkness, his voice trembling, ‘I-I think they might want to talk now…’ He gasped as the shimmering of black space filled the screen in front of him, the light increasing in ferocity and speed as it swept up and down.
David heard the pilots muffled grumbling, the Trevakian obviously not in the mood, ‘What is it now?’
The human cleared his throat nervously, his voice shaking as he stared into the light, ‘J-Just come here…there is something looking at us and I think it’s very big!’
He jolted in fright as the transport craft suddenly shuddered then slowed, a brief silence, then clattering behind as the pilot urgently scrambled towards the open doorway to the cockpit.
Chapter Thirty One: Aftermath
The Road from the French Coast
South of Caen, the large Mercedes camper home accelerated southwards on the N158 motorway towards Falaise, the American male driver staring into the dawn light as the vehicle continued in a line of traffic. The town to the north had been heavily congested, cars and vans attempting to move away from the coast as gunfire was heard to the north. They had spent a day in the French town, desperately seeking information on the situation to the north without success, the distant gunfire becoming louder and spurring them to finally decide it was in their best interests to keep moving. Gradually, the large vehicle had crawled through the heavy traffic, French Police desperately attempting to clear some of the town streets as army units moved northwards.
The German and American occupants had stared out in bewilderment as French soldiers began to block some of the streets behind them, establishing military checkpoints as a siren wailed overhead. Most residents struggled to their vehicles, throwing a few selected belongings into their cars and joining the queues of traffic heading south. A small number of people continued as normal, resigned to the idea that ‘What would be, would be…’ Some opened bottles of wine, staring at the queues of vehicles as others of a similar mind-set lowered themselves next to them, choosing spots that looked upon the chaos. Several residents slowly walked up to the high and majestic Chateau de Caen, built in circa 1060 by William the Conqueror, music filtering from the adjoining abbeys as the local ministers held impromptu services, the candles flickering in the night air.
Mitch glanced round from the driver’s seat of the Mercedes, his tired eyes checking on the sleeping wives and children in the rear seats around the centre table. Kurt Hausser rubbed his eyes in the passenger seat, reaching for a thermos flask and unscrewing the cap, ‘Coffee? It’s a little stale, but will do until we can stop…’
Mitch nodded, stifling a yawn, his eyes fixing on the overtaking cars as they swept past, the sun rising in the distance, the sky glowing red. His hand rose, indicating through the windscreen, ‘Look…it seems the French are deploying more soldiers…’
Sixteen large helicopters swept over the horizon to the west, their cargo bays full of troops as army lorries and armoured cars drove past on the left, the grim expressions on the troopers’ faces expressing the uncertainty of the situation ahead.
Mitch looked into the side mirrors, his eyes narrowing as he glanced out, the indicator flashing as they large Mercedes pulled over to the side of the carriageway. Kurt looked uncertainly at him, his voice lowered with the sleeping passengers, ‘What are you doing? We need to keep moving…’
The American nodded to him, ‘You will want to see this…we can still get a historical look at what happened all those years ago…bring your camera!’
The side door of the mobile home swung open, the two men staring northwards in awe at the sights behind, dark smoke plumes slowly rising into the air on the horizon near the coast. High above Caen and the surrounding countryside, numerous large military transport aircraft were flying and circling, the dots of the planes seeming at very high altitude. Kurt gasped as he stared upwards, the spectacle of hundreds of white parachutes drifting downwards through the sky as French airborne forces were deployed. His breath held as he considered the sheer numbers of highly trained soldiers becoming involved in Normandy from all over the country and North Africa.
Mitch swallowed hard, cars slowly passing on the other side of the motorhome as they stared upwards, his throat dry, ‘You won’t see that every day…’ He indicated back into the Mercedes, ‘Shall we get going…the women are waking up and I want some coffee!’
Into the Depths
The humans were packed heavily into the rear cargo compartments of the numerous Morgon craft, only able to stand or kneel in the confined space as the bodies shivered in fear, a low moaning of terror reverberating across the walls.
Narrow transparent slits ran along the side of the cabins, several frightened eyes staring out as the craft continued downwards beneath the waves, the darkness filling their vision as several people began to panic or breath uncontrollably. Several bodies simply shook as the humans cried or whimpered in shock, some from the bloody and brutal scenes they had witnessed, others for what could be to come as the craft continued to descend.
The hulls screeched as the water pressure became intense, many of the people shuffling to place their hands over their ears, their eyes clamped shut in horror. The craft descended further, a journey that seemed never ending as the angular vessels swept along, following their sensors towards a target location. Startled underwater life swam away in fear, unused to seeing anything at these extreme depths as the craft continued onwards, other angular vessels joining the route from other locations.
One pair of eyes continued to stare, the young woman shivering in the dropping temperature as she looked out from the crafts viewing slits. The dense water contorted the images as undercurrent swept through the depths, the teenager squinting as she took in the hulks of ships and large vessels on the sea bed, the transport craft slowing as it neared its destination. Lights flickered across the hulls of the submerged and lifeless craft, Morgon divers cutting through the steel protection to retrieve and utilise any metal or equipment that was required.
She stared out as the transport passed several darkened armoured figures, the intense lights from torches brandished towards the nearest vessel as they moved alongside a submarine, bubbles still rising upwards from the breached hull, the shapes of human bodies silhouetted inside the opening as glows burned brightly inside.
The transport engines whirred as the craft continued through the ships’ graveyard, lifeless bodies floating amongst the debris as blank eyes stared into darkness. Gradually the vessel turned, the young female’s eyes widening as she saw the bodies being dragged through the dense water by strange, seemingly small creatures, their small angular frames bracing against the current as long sharp tails swept around them, grasping the lifeless limbs of humans as they pulled them down into the darkness.
She strained her head, the murmurs behind becoming more frantic as the craft changed direction and slowed further. Small lights came into view as the craft manoeuvred, lining an enormous darkened hull stretching away into the depths, glows lining the under-section as several long doors began to rise, bubbles and air escaping upwards as the green haze spread outwards along the ocean floor.
Staring further, she saw the small dark tailed figures once more, thrusting their catches through smaller holes in the vast hull, the human bodies seem to hang before being sucked into the ship dramatically, some sort of haze or dust pouring from the openings after the corpses disappeared.
The transport craft dropped suddenly, screams filling the cargo space as the people shuddered against each other in fear, the vessel descending towards the green haze. Losing her footing, the young black haired female fought to get back up, staring through the shimmering colours and seeing other craft beyond, the lines of distorted dishevelled humans being marched in separate lines towards two open doorways.
