Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) (12 page)

The police motorcycles swept into Whitehall, the British government district in London. Gutted darkened buildings rose up on either side, the still smouldering remains of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey lying to their right and left. The jagged and broken dark walls stretched skywards, ornate paint flaked and burnt from the debris as police officers and soldiers stood guard on either side of the road. Rubble and broken masonry blocked most of the square, a single track road cleared through the remains of the shattered buildings to permit access.

Weaving through piles of rubble, Admiral Karladen glanced out at the blackened shells of the buildings, staring in wonder at the one remaining intact statue as the vehicles turned left around the eastern corner of the square. The plinth was lined with flickering candles in memory of the fallen, the small flames casting eerie light on the blackened imposing bronze figure above, Winston Churchill still staring towards the remains of the House of Commons, the clock of Big Ben now lying shattered and broken in the River Thames.

Accelerating away from the square, the flashing police lights were extinguished, the small convoy proceeding in near darkness as they were waved through roadblocks by army personnel. Turning slowly right into Horse Guards Parade, the Admiral stared up at the scorched and damaged building before them, a heavily sandbagged entrance guarded by two imposing heavy machine gun positions, a number of soldiers in camouflaged uniforms standing chatting to either side, several smoking.

As the vehicles pulled up, an officer ran from the bunker, his urgency alarming the men around the entrance as they tossed their cigarettes and moved closer together, the officer hissing in irritation, ‘Honour guard!’ The troops surged forward in alarm, forming into two lines either side of the entrance, the agents grinning through the blackened glass.

The doors to the lead Range Rover swung open, one of the agents jumping out and standing by the opening as Admiral Karladen straightened his uniform and adjusted his cap, stepping out into the darkness as the soldiers looked on expectantly, the officer snapping to attention as the cracking of boots behind followed. The Admiral saluted, the army officer returning the gesture, then the blue uniformed emissary strode confidently forward, into the sandbagged opening.

Advancing down the darkened narrow corridor, the Admiral spoke over his shoulder to the intelligence officer behind, ‘Get me a covert link through Petaski to Admiral Chergui orbiting earth, I think it’s time all our remaining fighters were deployed from above…this will help these Americans…’

The officer grimaced, ‘But the last fighter group is protecting our orbiting ships Sir, surely that will leave them exposed? Should we not use the fighters now stationed in this country?’

Admiral Karladen shook his head, turning and lowering his voice to a whisper, ‘There is little enough air cover here after what happened before…we must demonstrate our resolve to the humans and encourage them to release more soldiers for the support of Zaxon B’s defence.’ He leant towards the intelligence officer, ‘If we are seen to be preserving our forces whilst they take on the Morgons completely, they may reconsider their assistance.’ His eyes narrowed in determination as an MI6 agent approached from behind, ‘Get the link established…I will speak to Petaski once we get to our quarters.’

They continued along the corridor, passing numerous civil servants reading despatches and preparing brief reports, the agent from behind speaking out, ‘Sir, the Prime Minister is preparing a conference link with the American President and Russian Premier in a short time and wishes your attendance. We should then get a clear picture of exactly what is going on…’

The Admiral nodded to the staff he passed, turning briefly, ‘We have a short communication to make with the ship first, but this should not take long…perhaps fifteen of your minutes…have we adequate time before the conference?’

The young agent nodded, smiling, ‘Yes Sir…the Prime Minister’s secretary has advised the conference should begin in thirty minutes.’ The suited man’s eyes widened, ‘Can I get you some refreshments before your late supper meeting with the ministers Sir?’

The Admiral shook his head, then hesitated, a wry grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his intelligence officer, ‘What is this evening drink the Prime Minister mentioned before…the one he likes?’

The officer smiled in response, ‘A gin and tonic I believe Admiral…’

Admiral Karladen grinned widely, ‘Yes, that’s it…’ He looked back at the agent, seeing him smile in surprise, ‘Can we have two of those please?’

The man nodded willingly, ‘Certainly Sir, I will have them brought to your room shortly…’

The screens flickered into life, the images gaining colour and forming as the Prime Minister nodded to Admiral Karladen, ‘I hear you are a fan of our Gin and Tonic…a drink that formed the backbone of the British Empire across history…’

The Admiral grinned widely, ‘Very refreshing and enticing…although the side effects are a little strange. We have a similar drink for diplomatic functions on my home planet, but the Herrakians have an adverse reaction to it…well they become even more argumentative than usual…’ He shook his head dismissively, ‘Very irritating, but amusing race…always trying to re-negotiate even what you may have agreed at an earlier meeting…they have to win, it’s in their nature.’ He smiled widely, ‘They make vicious soldiers though and have formed some of our specialist units…I believe the Blue Leopards are fighting on Zaxon B, so some of your soldiers may have already come into contact with them.’

The Prime Minister nodded, his eyes glancing round as he smiled, ‘I know what you mean…we have the Scots, they are always arguing too…’ He indicated to the screens, ‘It appears we are about to start…another Gin and Tonic?’

Admiral Karladen turned to face the monitors, his voice lowering to a whisper, ‘Perhaps later over the meal Mr Prime Minister…’

The seal of the United States of America formed across one of the screens briefly, then the picture flicked to a seated President, flanked by two security advisors. The neighbouring screen flickered with static, then the Russian Premier appearing behind a large desk with others out of shot as he nodded a greeting.

The American President spoke first, his expression solemn, ‘We now have a clearer indication of what is going on here…there is ongoing street fighting in New York and Miami with air battles taking place above both states. Further air battles are ongoing over Los Angeles and San Diego and we are moving troops and armour into all these areas and reinforcing our fighter strength. Our Latin American neighbours have reported incursions and reconnaissance skirmishes as far south as Brazil, with widespread loss of contact with remote areas.’ The President leant forward, his face becoming more determined, ‘The United States of America has lost contact with Hawaii and we have sent Special Forces to determine what is happening. We will not tolerate this situation and I am considering the use of Cruise Missiles against any enemy concentrations we can identify...I am very reluctant to deploy any missile response until we have a clearer picture…’ He glared, indicating towards the Russian leader, ‘This is no laughing matter…there has apparently been significant loss of life without counting our missing naval vessels and nuclear capability!’

The Russian Premier cleared his throat, the grim smile dropping from his face, his English heavily accented, ‘My apologies Mr President, I am not laughing at your situation, just the fact we are experiencing the same problems. We have lost contact with areas of St Petersburg, some of our satellite states and all armed forces within the Arctic Circle. I have no information from any of my naval fleets beyond five miles of our ports…the enemy jamming is very effective and we are resorting to laying cabling to communicate between units. On my order, we have moved land forces to our borders and are in regular contact with the Chinese, whom although quiet as usual, have admitted that their situation almost mirrors our own. Our air force is now patrolling the skies over Moscow…’ He forced a smile, ‘Something which I can assure you even our sophisticated propaganda machine cannot conceal from the public!’

The British Prime Minister raised his hand swiftly to cover the grin spreading across his lips, the American President smiling faintly with reassurance. The Englishman spoke slowly, ‘It seems we are facing a graver crisis than before and we need to establish exactly how many enemy forces we are facing and their intent.’ He sighed wearily, ‘We all represent our local areas until communications improve, myself with Europe, The President speaking for Latin America and the Premier for China, the Far East and Eastern Europe. I think our priority must be to re-establish effective channels across the globe so that we may respond in coordinated force…until then we must prepare ourselves and our allies for considerable casualties.’

The Russian leader gritted his teeth, ‘I agree Prime Minister, we have to demonstrate a stronger determination towards our people and allies…’ He grimaced, ‘Forgive me, but our own Stalin once declared that the death of one individual was regrettable, but the death of millions is just a statistic…’ He leant forward as the American President raised his eyes in irritation, ‘It may be unpalatable information, but I think the quote is relevant to our situation…we have to view the long term now, not react to each and every incursion or disaster…’

Admiral Karladen stepped forward, ‘Gentlemen, if I may…?’

The President nodded willingly, ‘Please do Admiral…’

The Trevakian Emissary smiled politely, ‘I have just ordered the remaining fighters to be released from our ships orbiting your atmosphere to fly to the American’s assistance…we will release a small number of similar spacecraft from the skies above the United Kingdom to fly to Russia if required.’ He pursed his lips, ‘Earlier this evening, the portal to Zaxon B was opened…bitter fighting is continuing both on the planet’s surface and in the space above…their need is desperate to prevent the enemy having a clear route to Earth.’ He scratched his head, now wishing he had requested an additional drink, ‘I have sent all troops available through the transporter and understand your current security concerns but request you consider if you can spare any more troops to fight with us. Speaking to your neighbouring countries and requesting the same would be appreciated as small numbers combined will soon add together…if Zaxon B is lost, additional Morgon forces may come here…to your planet.’ He sighed, realising he may have said too much, ‘My people thank you and are very grateful for your generous support, but more is needed and we will provide additional weapons and plans to enable you to upgrade your armaments and defences.’

The American shook his head in frustration, ‘There is little we can do with our forces in the United Kingdom at present, I will release some of these and place them at your disposal…any American servicemen on holiday in your country will be called up and placed under your command.’ He shrugged despondently, ‘There is little else we can do from this distance…I will not risk any more personnel or military hardware across the Atlantic Ocean.’ He stared at the screen, ‘May I ask Admiral…where are the rest of your forces…are none available to assist us here?

Admiral Karladen shifted uncomfortably, ‘Unfortunately gentlemen, our communication is also restricted, both on Zaxon B and here…I will be laying another distress beacon and will converse with my ships above to see if we have a solution…in the meantime, we are alone…’

The Prime Minister indicated to the Russian screen, ‘Please proceed Mr Premier…’

The Russian grinned grimly again, ‘There are some additional units I can send, but these will be limited for our own security…I am aware that the North Koreans and Chinese have offered further resources and will utilise Russian aircraft to fly these to the United Kingdom if required…’

The British Prime Minister noticed one of his aides indicating to him frantically from off-camera as the Trevakian expressed is thanks to the screens, the Englishman stepping forward once there was a pause, ‘Gentlemen, shall we re-convene in one hour with an update perhaps?’

Seeing the two leaders acknowledge his proposal, he smiled reassuringly, ‘We should have further information then on events…in one hour Gentlemen.’

The screens went dark, the aid stepping forward as the Prime Minister indicated to Admiral Karladen to move into the room next door, the double doors opening to reveal prepared place settings, the Deputy Prime Minister sipping from a glass of wine. Stepping to one side, the aid whispered to the leader, ‘Mr Prime Minister, we have just received some news…’

The blizzard was unrelenting, iced flakes sweeping across the snow bound terrain as the high powered winds tore at anything left exposed. A large group of penguins braced themselves against the wind, formed tightly packed in protection against the bitter temperature, the wind chill reducing this significantly.  

Beyond and beneath the ice flow, whales and seals swam in the deep cold water, their bodies insulated with a thick layer of blubber as they withdrew from the harsh reality above. Strange calls echoed through the deep, the whales searching for each other as the ice cracked and moved above under the intense natural onslaught.

The lights of the weather station fought against the frozen darkness, the buildings whipped and battered by the high winds as a generator whined, its high powered motor struggling as the temperature dropped further.

Mutilated human bodies lay across the snow, the technicians and scientists attempting to flee as the station was attacked from the rear, their heavily padded clothing no match for the blades of the awaiting Morgons outside. The black armoured figures cutting the men and women down as they fled in terror towards their helicopter and snowmobiles.

Snowflakes slowly covered the frozen bodies, several dragged back inside for sustenance by the invaders as they sheltered from the vicious storm…waiting.

The damaged and abandoned transport craft sat some distance away, half submerged in the snow bank where it had finally come to rest. The snows of Antarctica were slowly consuming their victim, the winds ripping loose straps and equipment from overhead hangars, the flakes beginning to fill and freeze the battered interior. The scorched exterior’ hull was gradually becoming covered, the snow drifting up over its sides and the frost caused the protective alloy to shriek in contraction, a mechanical call for help.

The wind howled through the open doors, ripping and tugging at anything that was not securely fastened, the abandoned crafts cargo bay in darkness. Snow swirled in the cockpit, the wind spiralling the flakes into the freezing air as it buffeted against the sealed blast shields on either side.

The abandoned craft’s power was slowly depleting, the cockpit long since having adopted stand-by mode as the vessel’s energy cells became exhausted. One screen remained active, the strange and disfigured numerals changing routinely as the timer closed to zero, the number suddenly disappearing. Small red symbols and lettering filled the screen, scrolling upwards as orders were transmitted, dispersed single lines of script in blue indicating the transmission was received by numerous units.

In the weather station, a black armoured soldier rose abruptly to his feet, the interior of the helmet filling with the many symbols as he approached his commander, alloy boots snapping together as the message was conveyed.

The commander’s helmet turned gradually, red glowing eyes glancing across the troops before him as they stiffened, several small circular objects retrieved from inside their armour, the soldiers activating the beacons simultaneously as they rose to stride out into the elements.

Vice-Admiral Chergui watched through the viewing screen as the last of the silver fighters swept from the three large space craft orbiting planet Earth, light from the stars and moon sparkling off the reflective hulls as they sped downwards towards the glowing blue planet below. The senior officer slowly turned, nodding to his first officer, his eyes almost moist with emotion, ‘This planet is breathtakingly beautiful…unlike almost anything I have seen before.’ He smiled thoughtfully, ‘It reminds me almost of…’

Red lights began to flash across the spaceship, the commander and his subordinate startled as a low alarm began to sound. Chergui spun round, staring across his command deck at the frantic efforts of his crew on their screens, his voice contorted with adrenalin, ‘Report! What is it?’

The command crew ran their fingers furiously across the screens, their eyes strained as they tried to read the reports pouring across their consoles. Chergui stepping forward, his tone demanding and raised, ‘Come on…I want detail!’

The electronic computer voice resounded across the ship, ‘Warning…enemy presence detected…Warning!’ The voice continued, repeating the message, the alarm beginning to rise…

Vice Admiral Chergui was becoming exasperated, now shouting, ‘Crew…Report!’

Seconds passed, the alarm echoing across the command deck as Chergui’s eyes swept from one operator to the next in frustration, their hands running across their screens in desperation. Suddenly a crew member stood up abruptly, taking a step away from their screen, her eyes staring down at the computer’s conclusion. The blue uniformed intelligence officer looked up slowly, her chest heaving as she gasped, ‘On the other side of the planet Sir…’

The Vice Admiral strode forward, his voice almost a scream, ‘What? What is on the other side of the planet?’

Tears filled her eyes, her hands shaking, ‘Enormous energy surges Sir…vessels are uncloaking…we can gain footage from the International Space Station for confirmation…’

Chergui was screaming at the officer, his fists clenched, ‘Confirmation of what? Get me pictures on the screen now!’ His tone lowered as he saw the female officer was close to panic, ‘What is your best guess ensign?’

The viewing screen behind flickered as the signal was coordinated, the Vice Admiral staring at the female officer impatiently, ‘Well?’

The female Trevakian glanced up at him, her voice shaking, ‘Sir, I-I have to report…ships sensors define the extreme energy surges as Morgon Warships…possibly two Decimator class.’ She swallowed hard, unwilling to proceed, ‘Sir…we have nothing to oppose them…they will have overwhelming fighter strength…their main guns are…’

Vice Admiral Chergui gasped, his chest seeming to deflate as he muttered in shock, shaking his head in complete disbelief, ‘Two! We have heard they have them, but Fleet said in limited numbers…two together…surely that is their entire capability!’ His body sagged forward, hands grasping the desk in front of him as the crew stared on in horror.

The first officer lunged forward, grasping his commander’s shoulders to support him, his voice strained, ‘Sir…what do we do?’

The electronic voice sounded ominously again, the red lights become fiercer and more intense, ‘Unknown enemy craft detected…two enemy craft uncloaking…sensors detect heavy weaponry…Warning!’

Vice Admiral Chergui slowly straightened up, adjusting his uniform nervously as he glanced round at the screen behind, the image still forming, his breath coming in short gasps, ‘Get a secure link to Sky Commander Petaski and Admiral Karladen…give me positive identification on the enemy vessels and contact one of our escorts…we need a ship to fly immediately to Fleet…there is nothing else left to do now if those are what we think they are…’

The large screen behind flickered once more, the image clearing as the ship tapped into the International Space Station’s cameras. The dark space shimmered, seeming to even glow above the deep blue planet as the image flickered again. The image shook as sparks flew out from the space distortion, then angular surfaces began to form, the two dark grey images shimmering then straightening as two enormous ships formed across the cameras.

Bright lights glowed around the hulls, the space distortion seeming to shimmer as steam and static dispersed from the dense external armour. Then a flash, distortion streaming across the screen as it went black abruptly, the first officer sighing deeply, ‘The International Space Station is destroyed Sir...all other satellites will now be targeted it seems…the war is here now!’