The Last Marine in the Galaxy (Galaxies Collide Book 1)

by Andrew McGregor

  The Last Marine in the Galaxy

  By Andrew McGregor

  Prologue

  The near future:

  Intercepted Message Transcript

  Initial Planetary Report from sensors (Translation)

  A planet with a suitable gravitational and protective atmosphere.

  Air and temperate climate that is ideal for sustaining life.

  An ideal land and sea mass distribution across the planet.

  Rich mineral resources and fuel sources suitable for development.

  Suitable land mass for cultivation and providing food for a vast and growing population.

  Currently numerous residential animal species capable for cultivation and food provision.

  Easily established and adapted infrastructure to provide efficient deployment and development.

  Rare and essential metals ripe for extraction.

  Current Occupying Species: Expendable or suitable for cultivation.

  Message Broken...attempting re-connect...Jamming in progress....

  Re-connect....disruption...Jamming in progress....

  Attempting to re-connect covert intercept......

  Jamming in progress...unsuccessful attempt....signal lost...

  Retrieved message fragment.......

  Planetary Name: Earth

  Lifeform Initial Report:..........weak

  Expected Resistance:..........negligible

  ..........Message Ends………

  As human beings, we become accustomed to believing today will just be like yesterday, and tomorrow. We get up, get dressed, go to work, eat.....come home, watch TV, perhaps go to the gym, think about our relationships, then we go back to bed. We content ourselves that life holds little surprise for us, but deep down perhaps wish something exciting would happen, a very personal dream normally concealed from all others.

  But our existences are not predetermined, we base our confidence on our continued reality on probability and our own comfort zones….things that are anything but predictable, probability can be very cruel. Life is fragile.

  At any time our lives or world could change…and change dramatically.

  Most of us do not even consider, or are far too afraid to consider.......that this hour may be the last of that perceived normality………..

  …...That something has been watching......

  Introduction

  James Foster sat at his darkened flight screen, studying the small flashing lights. Air traffic control at Heathrow was busy that morning with the incoming flights from across the world filling the set in front of him. The flight numbers circled the screen in the wide landing pattern above one of the world’s busiest airports, the numbers indicating mostly flights from the USA and Eastern Europe. Most of the far eastern flights for the morning had already landed, their passengers spilling from the terminals onto the rain drizzled forecourts and continuing their journeys via the main train line from the airport, tube, taxi and awaiting relatives and friends.

  At thirty six years old, James had worked for the airport for nearly nine years, graduating to become a full time air traffic controller four years previously. With dark black hair and deep brown eyes, he was a favourite amongst the female and even some of the male security officers as he ventured through the metal detector every morning on the way to the tall air traffic control tower situated at the end of Terminal 3.

  With a panoramic view of the airfield and surrounding area, he often considered the sights breath-taking, his career a dream come true. The flashing lights of the tiny yellow ground operations vehicles speeding around the many airport buildings and structures, interspersed with the large commercial aircraft lumbering to and from the runways to the terminal gates adding to the spectacular view of Heathrow providing him an envious addition to the pride in the work he accomplished.

  James adjusted the small microphone under his chin, speaking slowly as he noticed the next flashing dot turn into the landing pattern over East London, ‘UA 934, you are cleared to land, proceed towards my location within the pattern.’

  The crackle of static they had been experiencing all morning recommenced in his ears, an American accent filtering through his earpiece, ‘Roger, Heathrow tower, proceeding as instructed. Thank you for your assistance.’

  James nodded slowly, a smile forming on his face, ‘My pleasure, UA 934, welcome to Heathrow. There is limited crosswind this morning. Enjoy your stay in London.’

  The crackle continued, the gravelly American voice replying, ‘Thank you Heathrow tower, out.’

  Glancing across his screen, James tapped the latest movement of the aircraft into his computer keyboard and leant back again in his chair, studying the screen. Seeing a Lufthansa plane approach the busy holding pattern from the west, he grinned, realising it was the late Frankfurt flight possibly carrying one of his friends.

  Then he straightened, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he noticed another flashing light joining the holding pattern behind the German plane, the smile slowly dropping from his face. Wiping his eyes with his right hand, he checked the numbers beneath the plane again, unsure of what he had seen. Then he spoke into the microphone, concern entering his voice as he sat up straight in his chair, ‘TMT 1, please identify yourself…I do not recognise your call sign.’

  The static continued in his ears, the airwaves silent. He leant forward, watching the flashing dot follow the Lufthansa plane, maintaining its distance, ‘TMT 1, I repeat, please identify yourself. I do not recognise your call sign.’

  He listened intently to the static again, the airwaves clear. Glancing across at his colleague, he saw the man also looking at the new dot, shrugging his shoulders as their eyes met, the older man smiling, ‘Faulty transponder?’

  James looked back at the screen, momentarily distracted as another plane turn into the final landing pattern over East London, realising the delayed flight, he grinned, ‘Air France 1980, you are cleared to land, proceed towards my location within the pattern. Follow UA 934 in towards Heathrow.’

  The French pilot acknowledged, ‘Bonjour Heathrow tower, proceeding as instructed. Merci.’

  Glancing back at the unknown flashing dot, James spoke into the microphone again, ‘TMT 1, I repeat again, please identify yourself. I do not recognise your call sign.’ The static continued with no response. Noticing another plane joining the pattern behind the unknown aircraft, he spoke cautiously, ‘EK001, welcome to Heathrow holding pattern. There is an aircraft before you in the pattern, have you a visual please?’

  The static continued, the Emirates pilot accented reply cautious, ‘Negative Heathrow tower, zero visual. We have radar contact. Unknown plane is proceeding within pattern at similar speed.’

  James tapped the supervisor alert button on his desk, talking back into the microphone, his voice becoming strained with slight concern, ‘TMT 1, I repeat again, please identify yourself. I do not recognise your call sign.’

  The static rose in volume in his ears, the radio interference becoming more intense, ‘EK001, please update on possible visual of aircraft before you.’

  As the supervisor reached his desk, peering into his screen, the deep tones of the Emirates pilot thrust through the static, ‘EK001, zero visual…..wait……I see something.’ There was a pause, ‘I see…..distortion Heathrow tower, distortion or flickering in the sky over London.’ The static crackled again, then the Emirates pilot spoke, his voice clearly excited, ‘Heathrow tower, distortion is clearing…..we have some visual…….bright lights…er…this is not commercial, I repeat not commercial….it is…..oh my God!‘ The static rose again in volume, controller
s across the room frowning as the noise irritated their ears.

  The supervisor picked up a spare earpiece as James leant forward further, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, ‘EK001, please advise visual status…’

  A controller at the other side of the tower turned, his eyes widened and voice raised, ‘South East England Air Traffic Control reports new unknown sighting on radar in our flight pattern! Is it Russian?’

  The static crackled, then the Emirates pilot spoke again, his voice rising in fear, ‘Heathrow T-Tower, it is…….it is…….Heathrow Tower, it is……..oh my god! Heathrow Tower!’ There was another pause, the voice becoming more excited and fearful as the pilot sat transfixed in his cockpit, his co-pilot pointing in awe at what was before them, his mouth open in shock. ‘Heathrow Tower……..dark grey vessel has just emerged……it was invisible….…approaching Heathrow! Now over London! It is nothing I have seen before….it is huge, beyond an A380.’

  The supervisor cut in, his voice stern and demanding, ‘EK001, you are breaking radio protocol. Repeat visual description, what can you see? What is before you?’

  The static surged in the earpieces, the pause seeming long if only a couple of seconds, then the Emirates pilot spoke again, his voice raised, ‘Heathrow Tower………oh my god……….it is……oh my god……..alien aircraft now approaching East London! My God! They are coming into land at Heathrow!’

  James turned and stared wide eyed at the dumbfounded supervisor, their hearts pounding, then a clicking sound commenced in their earpieces and all the sets across the control tower. The supervisor turned abruptly away from the screen, shouting across the tower, ‘Get RAF and Military command on the radio….Now!’

  The clicking stopped, the radio waves silent, then a high level of static burst through their speakers. A low strained accented voice surged across the earpieces and through the cockpits of all the aircraft flying over London, ‘This is Admiral Karladen of the Trevakian Empire……we mean you no harm Tower.’ The static rose again, ‘This is Trevakian Contact One, Skorpion Class Battle Cruiser requesting urgent landing at your Heathrow. We have many critically wounded and require urgent assistance.’

  James stared at the screen in disbelief, his adrenalin pulsing through his body. Looking up at the supervisor who was shaking his head slowly in astonishment, his eyes wide with shock. ‘What’s the protocol?’

  The supervisor spun round, his face incredulous, ‘There is no ‘effing’ protocol I know of for this!’ He glanced back across the tower, running his hand through his hair in nervousness, ‘Everyone else getting this?’ He saw the startled and fearful expressions on the other controllers’ faces as they slowly nodded.

  Glancing back and seeing the startled controller looking up at him, the supervisor nodded cautiously, tears of emotional excitement in his eyes, ‘Let them land…..what else can we do?’

  James nodded and leant forward gingerly, his breath short and sharp, ‘Tr-Trevakian One, proceed in pattern please, welcome to…Heath….earth.’

  The static crackled, then the low voice came over the airways again, ‘Roger Heathrow, proceeding in your landing pattern. We are damaged, but are able to follow your commercial traffic.’ There was a pause, then the voice became more emotional and heightened, ‘Scramble your earth fighters Heathrow tower……it is very unlikely we have arrived alone…….this is only the beginning………..…May your God help us all! Trevakian One out.’

  Chapter One: Something was watching……..

  As the large Trevakian cruiser had uncloaked from its covert flying mode, clouds of water vapour formed dramatically around the craft, the atmosphere reacting to the chemical discharges from the ship. The extreme and intense lights that preceded the atmospheric reaction shone brightly across London, the citizens and drivers below looking up in startled reaction. The bursts from the ship’s powerful engines emanated brightly across the dull London sky as the deep grey vessel appeared in the flight path over north east London.

  On the M1 Motorway north of London, cars tyres screeched as drivers looked up in awe at the sight before them. Several vehicles simply ran into the back of the cars in front, their drivers mesmerised by the sight in the sky on the horizon, unable to react as the rears of the forward cars filled their windscreens.

  On the London northern circular road, a large twenty car pile-up occurred near Brent Cross Shopping Centre as vehicles crossing lanes at the busy carriageway sections spun and collided with the cars and delivery vans around them.

  A policeman chasing two shoplifters along Oxford Street, his focus on the fleeing criminals, found his frustration rising as pedestrians stopped dead in front of him, blocking his route. Pushing and shoving people out of the way, he frantically began to gain on the two youths he was pursuing, dumbfounded that they simply stopped and stared to the north from Oxford Circus in silence as he caught them, their faces wide with shock.

  On Euston Road an ambulance with lights flashing ran into the cars in front, the crews’ eyes moving to the north as the paramedic in the passenger seat pointed across Kings Cross Station forecourt at the vessel appearing dramatically in the sky to the north.

  North of Hackney marshes in the east end, residents of the many tower blocks not at work struggled onto their balconies as the lights flashed though their windows, unable to comprehend the sight in the sky to their north west as the dark grey vessel swept across the heavens behind a bewildered Lufthansa airbus aircraft, the pilot’s staring in stunned silence at the flashing dot on their radar behind them.

  Dog walkers looked up into the sky as their pets barked uncontrollably across London, the animals stunned by the bright lights and steam pouring from the new vessel.

  Cabin crew in the aircraft on the final approach to Heathrow struggled to control passengers as terrified screams and the sounds of seatbelts being unbuckled filled their planes, people staring blankly or incredulously from the starboard windows at the sight to their north.

  The radio station DJs across London broke into their music tracks, their voices spluttering and stammering as they advised their listeners of the sights in the sky over London. Some listeners dismissing the news as simply a cruel, bad tasted joke. A few remembering the startling announcement on 9/11, something they had also initially dismissed in the same manner.

  Television crews turned their cameras skywards as the BBC crews in Central London rushed out into the street and onto the roof to film the ship from another galaxy. Sky News headquarters in west London rushed their main reporter outside, the remote crew running down the street towards Gillette corner to gain the best shots of the flight path as it approached Heathrow.

  Mobile phones were raised across all of London as people took pictures of the new arrival, the flashes spreading across all of the city as the large dark grey vessel turned over east London, beginning to join the aircraft on final approach to the busy airport.

  Across Heathrow, managers ran from their desks, the loud speaker system calling all staff to incident management. Two security officers, Marc Butler and Paul Barnes froze in the middle of their late morning full English breakfasts in the staff canteen, listening intently to the speaker system’s announcement, their plates left half-eaten as they followed the instructions and ran bewildered back to the main security area. All staff breaks were cancelled.

  As the televisions across the airport flickered onto Newsflash items, bewildered and jet-lagged passengers stood in awe and shock of the sights on the high resolution sets as the first pictures were beamed across the world, courtesy of TV Asahi’s headquarters in Camden Town.

  Airplanes queuing for departure slots were urgently ordered back to their gates, the runways being cleared for the ship’s arrival. The airport fire service scrambled all its vehicles, the majority of fire service engines across west London beginning to head for the airport, their sirens screaming.

  Police and Ambulance sirens joined the flashing lights starting to converge on the airport, the roads around Heathrow
becoming clogged as cars, buses, delivery vehicles and Lorries pulled over to the sides of the roads they were travelling on or simply stopped. Drivers instinctively struggled out of their vehicles, straining their eyes to the east…towards Central London…awaiting the appearance of the new flight.

  At Heathrow police station, all armed officers were called in, the numerous policemen and women on duty collecting firearms before making their way to the vehicle pool, the vans and police buses swerving in to collect the newly armed officers.

  At the nearest army barracks to one of the world’s busiest airports, green Bedford trucks and land rovers were being frantically readied to head out. The garrisoned troops being rushed into the parade yard, grabbing their weapons as they ran through their individual barracks. Boxes of live ammunition were hastily carried out to the waiting transports by their officers, the intention of issuing the bullets as the vehicles sped under police escort towards Heathrow.

  Bournemouth National Air Traffic Service control frantically cleared all aircraft not already in Heathrow’s flight pattern to alternative airports, some planes eventually being given landing slots as far north as Glasgow. All incoming aircraft to UK airspace were either turned round or diverted to Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris, Frankfurt or Schiphol in Amsterdam, the American flights being diverted to northern England. Any aircraft due to take off were grounded until further notice. Southern UK airspace was being cleared, and quickly.

  As police motorcyclists blocked and closed the major roads around the airport to speed the army and emergency vehicles to their destination, frustrated drivers vented their anger on their horns, their vehicles unable to progress. Many drivers began turning round, others simply getting out of their cars to watch as the dark grey vessel began to cross into West London.

  As the ship progressed across the London sky, three RAF Typhoon fighter jets swept along the Thames River behind it, gaining ground. The wide eyed pilots’ instructions to escort the vessel into Heathrow and to only engage if the newcomers adopted any hostile action.