A soldier runs up to Hayes, and even though he is terrified, salutes, before he states the obvious, “We’re under attack.”
The General sighs, then while looking upward says, “So the Gamin decided to take out the construction dock after all.”
The soldier frowns and states, “The Gamin? I heard the Space Station sent a message about the Gamin evacuating people. We don’t know who the attackers are.”
Hayes lowers his gaze and looks at the soldier. With mounting concern, he asks, “If they’re not the Gamin, then who?”
A nearby building explodes spectacularly, causing both men to dive to the ground for cover. The rattle of machine gun fire diminishes as each sentry post is destroyed. The only sound that remains is that which comes from the direction of the construction dock. Brief flashes of light accompany the sounds.
Thunk… Thunk… Thunk…
General Hayes stands, brushes himself down, and tries to determine what is happening. Why the duty watch commander did not wake him, is a mystery that he does not have time for right now. A solitary search light still works, and even more miraculous is that the person operating it is able to swing the beam toward the colony ship that is under construction. Dozens of alien craft are hovering around the dock, firing energy weapons at the partially built ship.
Inexplicably, the attacking craft quit firing, then fly away so fast it is as though they vanish into thin air. Fires are everywhere, along with the moans of the injured. Hayes is filled with rage over the damage and carnage caused by the unknown assailants. He turns his gaze upward and angrily shakes his fist at the night sky.
The weapon that strikes the ground is thousands of times more powerful than any atomic bomb ever assembled on Earth. The impact is so powerful that Hayes, along with everyone else, is instantly vaporized. The detonation turns every building into dust, and even shatters the construction dock. A crater, the likes of which has not been seen for hundreds of thousands of years, forms in seconds. Everything that survived the blast, and there is scant little that does, plummets into the crater’s unimaginable depths. An immense dust cloud rises up from the desert and blots out the stars. Not that there is anyone left alive at the epicenter to witness the event.
Facilities in Perth register the impact as a magnitude 10.9 earthquake. Ordinarily such an event would galvanize the monitoring teams into action, but not this day. Before the team leader is able to call a general meeting, an event of similar magnitude is registered in China, followed moments later by another in Russia.
Location:
Kangbashi District
China
Wu is lying in bed, enjoying one of the many luxuries of his position, when an alarm sounds. He lays there for a moment, waiting pensively. When his phone does not ring, he shoves a young woman out of his way, and gets out of bed. He grabs a large robe, drapes it over his shoulders, and strides purposefully to his balcony. Before him is the vast nighttime cityscape that houses the people working on China’s newest spacecraft. His eyes rove the dark shadows in annoyance. A bolt of lightning catches his attention. He turns to look at the source. The sight frightens him so much his knees weaken. He grabs the handrail to prevent himself from falling, and stares numbly at the sight.
A dozen shielded tanks have formed a defensive circle, and are steadily firing their lasers upward. Powerful searchlights reveal small alien spacecraft hovering in the air above the tanks. The small craft dart left and right as they avoid the tanks’ weapons fire, while at the same time, discharging bolts of energy downward. Each bolt looks like lightning.
Amazingly, the tanks shrug off the attacks as easily as do the flying craft. As unexpectedly as the craft arrived, they depart skyward. Wu follows their departure upward and notices a pin prick of light, one that is getting brighter by the second. He shields his eyes as the blinding light strikes the courtyard.
BOOM
The blast is as powerful as the one which struck the Australian dock, and is equally effective. Seconds later, all that remains of the entire city is a dust-filled gaping hole in the ground. Wu’s tattered robe swirls on the air currents, all that remains of the man, and his plans to rule an empire.
Location:
Manhattan Island
New York
Detectives Edwards and Jones are sitting in their squad car, stuck in traffic, listening to music. The midday sun is warm, but not too unpleasant. Edwards puts the unmarked squad car in park, and waits. They are looking forward to a quiet afternoon, when their radio unexpectedly quits. Both men stare at the silent radio, before either of them can say anything, the sound of drum beats suddenly emanate from it. They can hear the sound coming from every vehicle near them.
Jones gulps, then points ahead to an electronic advertising banner. The hair raises up on his neck, as he whispers in fear, “Look! It’s that alien. Their back!”
Edwards frowns at the visage of a Gamin on the screen. His jaw drops in disbelief. Every screen he can see, now displays the same image, all the while, the steady sound of drums beating emanates all around.
The alien’s image speaks, “A powerful enemy approaches your world. Retreat to safety.” The message repeats itself over and over.
The Detectives stare at the instant mayhem outside their car. People are abandoning their vehicles and running. The sounds of horns honking, engines revving, tires screeching, and metal tearing reaches their ears.
Jones shakes his head and says, “Look at the fools. They have no idea where they’re going.”
Edwards sighs, “The last time this happened, we were filling out paperwork on fender benders for a month.”
The drum beats abruptly stop. Edwards lifts his gaze, then freezes at the sight. He feels a chill building, and is unable to speak, so he simply grabs Jones’ arm and points. Every screen in sight is filled with static.
Jones watches as a group of teenagers run across an intersection and then rush down a subway entrance. He glances at Edwards and says, “You know. That may not be a bad idea.”
Edwards is leaning forward, over his steering wheel, to get a better view. He suddenly sits back, wishing he hadn’t. Fear grips his chest as he silently points ahead. A small stubby looking craft is darting between the city’s skyscrapers, firing an energy weapon as it goes. Each shot has a devastating effect on its target, causing great chunks of concrete and glass to fall to the pavement below. Hapless pedestrians do their best to dodge the raining debris, many gruesomely fail.
The two men sit in their seats, too stunned by what they are witnessing to move. Another stubby craft appears, then another. Each one flies through the city, strafing buildings, and roadways, as they go. A massive section of an office building unexpectedly collapses onto the street directly in front of them. Dust and debris splatter against their car’s windshield, causing both men to flinch. The entire top section of another building leans precariously over, then begins to fall in slow motion into the building next to it.
Jones turns to Edwards, and with mounting panic, says, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Edwards quickly replies, “For sure! I’m grabbing the rifles from the trunk.”
Opening the car doors allows the full sound of the alien attack to assault their ears. Screams, gunshots, engines revving, and the dull thud of impacts as buildings collapse comes from all directions. The two detectives hurriedly grab their rifles, and then fill their pockets with ammunition. Meanwhile, overhead dozens of spacecraft continue to strafe the city of New York. Almost as an afterthought, the pair grabs flashlights.
The two men run for the subway entrance. Scores of people are running the same way as they too, seek shelter. Reaching the intersection, both men stop at the sight of the devastation before them. Dozens of buildings have collapsed, affording them a view of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. It still leans a few degrees from the Gamin attack of many years ago. But this alone is not what stops them. Three spacecraft are hovering around America’s iconic symbol, and shooting at it. The at
tackers are blasting the iron statue apart. While the pair watches, the statue’s arm breaks free, and falls to the ground. Its head falls next, followed by huge section of its chest.
Edwards’ arms fall slack to his sides. His voice falters as he says, “They’re playing with us.”
Jones fights back tears of frustration and anger. With a quivering voice, he says, “We need to get underground. NOW!”
Edwards gazes upward, oblivious to an expanding cloud of dust that approaches from a newly destroyed building. He makes an almost silent plea, “Do you think someone will come and save us?”
Jones notices something unusual in the distance, and frowns. He points to a greenish cloud that is expanding out from the harbor. With mounting fear, he says, “I don’t know what that is, but it can’t be good. We need to hustle.”
The two men run toward the subway entrance, then rush down into the bedlam below. Thousands of panic-stricken people crowd the platforms. Someone screams shrilly as they fall onto the tracks. A few lean over to help, just as the hapless victim touches the electrified third rail. Dozens are electrocuted, adding to the chaos. The detectives appraise the scene in seconds, then glance at each other.
Edwards shouts over the din, “We need to get to the lower levels.”
Nodding in agreement, Jones cautiously begins to lead the way to the closest train tunnel. The pair stays as far from the edge of the platform as they can, but the sheer weight of the crowd keeps pushing them closer and closer. Both men stop when the sound of an approaching train reaches their ears. They dive away from the platforms edge just as the train’s emergency brakes engage. The driver’s efforts are in vain. The train plows through dozens upon dozens of people before coming to a halt. The driver stares in shock at his blood splattered window. He is still oblivious to the attack that rages on overhead.
The Detectives squeeze past the train, then run down the tracks, carefully avoiding the electric rail. They soon find what they are looking for, an old service door. Edwards glances back, nods, then says, “What do we do about them?”
Jones looks back and stares at the steady stream of people following them. “Let ‘em come.” He replies.
Edwards nods, then stares in frustration at the lock on the door. He takes out his pistol and shoots it. The sound of his gun firing reverberates loudly in the confines of the tunnel, causing those who are following them, to stop.
The two men force the stubborn door open. Its rusty hinges squeal in protest, sounding like finger nails scraping on a chalkboard. The men enter the stairwell just as the power goes out, plunging them into darkness. Inside the service stairwell, emergency lights flicker, then also fail. The men turn on their flashlights as they hurry downward. Behind them people scream in terror, then in their panic, they run toward the faint light emanating from the stairwell.
Jones glances upward at the sound of footfalls on the metallic stairs, then he frowns. He shines his light up the center of the stairwell to get a better view. A chill runs up his spine at the sight of a faint green mist flowing through the doorway. He nervously says, “We’d better hurry.”
Edwards glances upward. They both see a woman fall to the ground, she is choking on something. Her cough sounds wet, and is quickly followed by deep gurgling sounds as she tries to scream through ruined vocal cords. The chilling sounds encourage the detectives to rush even faster downwards. The pair are closely followed by others who have so far escaped the deadly gas. The sounds of people choking and dying fills those running with adrenaline.
Jones keeps casting his light behind them, and is alarmed to see the greenish cloud is only two levels above them. It is drifting down the central shaft faster than they can run. A young man rushes past the detectives, and arrives at the base of the stairwell first. A solid metal door confronts them all. It is not locked, but has been sealed shut for so long that moss has grown around its edges. The young man stares at it in total panic. No amount of shoving will open it. He grabs at his hair, and shouts incoherently.
A heavyset man, his chest heaving from his exertions, charges forward. The young man quickly grabs the door handle and holds it down, hopefully in the open position. The big man collides with the door, and to everyone’s surprise, it swings open with a loud clang. With no time to spare, they all rush in, and then slam the old door shut.
Jones hurriedly casts the beam from his flashlight around the moss-covered frame, and smiles. He turns to the group of frightened people and states with relief, “I think we’re safe now.”
Edwards glances at Jones, then turns his attention to the door. He points his own flashlight at the narrow moss filled gaps, and waits. One minute becomes two, and still there is no sign of the poisonous gas. His wide grin freezes on his face when he sees the moss that lines the bottom of the door, turning grey. With apprehension, he states, “Ah… I think it’s coming through.”
Everyone backs away from the door as faint wisps of green gas puff through miniscule gaps. Jones frantically searches the room. Rusting pipes and massive cisterns, indicate that this was once a boiler room. He shines his flashlight around, then quickly swings the beam back when he realizes he has almost missed another old door.
Jones shouts out, “Over there!”
The heavy man forces this door open as well, revealing a long passageway. It runs straight for as far as their lights shine. The group rushes through, and then shut the door behind them. The exertions have taken their toll on the big man. He sits down with his back to the closed door.
Thirty-four people run for their lives down a corridor to nowhere. Where it leads is a mystery to all until the light from the pair of flashlights reveals an unexpected surprise. The group stops running and stares in disbelief at the abandoned train station. The platform extends left and right for as far as they can see in the dim light.
A gurgling sound reaches their ears. It comes from behind them. The heavyset man closes his eyes as he dies, his ruined lungs drowning him where he sits.
Edwards cautiously makes his way along the platform’s edge toward a tunnel opening. He stops and stares in fear at the sight before him. A sea of rats rush out from the tunnel. They squeak and hiss as they run along the old tracks. Standing on the platform, he stares at the sight in amazement. The rats are at least three to four deep, with each one propelling itself forward from the backs of those below. The wave of rats subsides. Edwards gulps when he notices the faint tendrils of green gas which seem to claw their way out of the tunnel before him. The gas is heavier than the air, and flows menacingly over the uneven ground, and the rats that failed to move quickly enough.
Edwards panics as he runs back towards the group. He is alarmed to see the beam from another flashlight haphazardly waving around as it approaches him. The man runs past Edwards at a full sprint, straight into the deadly gas.
Jones calls out loudly from the other end of the platform, “We’re trapped. Look for a service tunnel.”
Edwards takes a deep breath, and then walks purposefully toward his partner. Finding him, he says, “There is no way out of here.”
Jones glances fearfully left and right as the realization finally hits him; they are trapped.
Edwards sits down with his back to one of the station’s pillars and says, “How many years have we worked together?”
Jones sits down next to him, defeated, and replies, “A lot of years, my friend.”
“We had a good run, didn’t we?” Edwards states as he casts his beam over the approaching mist.
The sounds of people choking nearby reaches their ears. Both men stare at their firearms as they consider their limited options. A young and energetic man covers his face and then sprints up the corridor they first came down. The man almost makes it to the door where the heavyset man rests, before the gas penetrates his makeshift facemask and brings him down.
Jones pulls out his gun and then says, “This isn’t for me.”
“Me neither.” Edwards responds stoically as he pats his sidearm.
Both men shake hands as the tendrils of gas reach their feet, then seem to climb up over their legs. Minutes later, the platform is a lifeless void. The beams from the flashlights shine for a while, until the corrosive mist renders them useless.
Location:
Starship Terran
Sol System
John stares at his console deep in concentration. The Kord Power Unit ran out of energy a few minutes earlier, immediately reducing their speed. The ship steadily bleeds off speed as their available power diminishes with each passing second. Every nuclear reactor is now offline, with entire sections too radioactive to enter. Sweat drips down his back as he focuses all of his attention on a single readout. One with numbers that are diminishing at an astronomical rate. He lifts his fingers to his console, then at the last possible second, disengages the main drive.
Deck plates throughout the Terran jolt with the abrupt reduction in speed. All of a sudden, the lights flicker, then stay dim, while at the same time, the artificial gravity fluctuates. Alarms flash on every bridge console. Before the crew can react, the ship lurches to the left, jostling everyone on board. John quickly activates the ship’s thrusters as a new wave of sweat runs down his back.
Joe nervously reports, “The IGD is operating at minimal levels, it’s going to be a rough ride until it’s back to full power.” He glances fearfully at John and states, “This means that we can’t use the main drive or sub-light engines.”
“Got it,” John replies without looking up. He clenches his jaw tensely as he attempts to slow the ship down as gradually as he can.
Staring at the main viewer, Cindy is mortified by the sight before her. We’re too late! A pair of Atlan carriers are high above Earth’s orbit, as are at least fifty Gamin warships of various sizes. Thousands of Atlan fighters move as tiny dots across the view. The scene feels like a repeat of the battle at the Kord Space Station. Flashes of light from energy weapons are intermixed with the kinetic weapons the Gamin ships use. The Gamin satellite grid that was orbiting Earth, along with Space Station Unity, is nowhere to be found.
Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles) Page 133
