Four marines stayed up top. The other ten, Hiscock and the Professor still in the middle, went slowly down into the dark. The air was heavy and thicker the further down they went and soon all of them were panting like overheated dogs. The marine in charge turned to the old man.
“Are you sure about this Prof?”
The Professor nodded.
“Not far now.”
When they arrived at the foot of the stairs they found a pair of reinforced doors. The lead marine tried to open them, but they were locked tight. There was a security pad to one side, but with no power in the system, there was no way for them to open the door.
“C4,” the lead marine said. Hiscock knew enough to retreat back up to the next landing and cover his ears.
“Fire in the hold.”
The blast was nearly deafening, even with his ears covered. For long seconds later he could still see the flash as a yellow flare behind his eyelids. But when they descended they found that the C4 had done its job… the doors lay off their hinges, hanging open to reveal a long dark hallway beyond. There was no sign that any green sludge had got in.
The marines once again led the way.
“Three doors along on the left,” the Professor said.
He was proved right. Another door opened out onto an area full of canisters. Each had the well-recognized symbol for radiation hazard stamped on them. Hiscock instinctively stepped back and the Professor smiled.
“It’s okay lad. Everything’s shielded… for now.”
Something in the Professor’s eyes gave Hiscock a cold shiver all up his spine.
The Professor directed operations while Hiscock stood by the doors, feeling like a square peg in a round hole. While the marines were occupied in the storage room, the rest of the area was in deep blackness.
Another bunker.
He was considering making for the stairs and heading back to daylight when a voice came over the headset – it sounded like the officer they’d left in charge back up at the windows.
“Make it fast down there. We’ve got incoming.”
His headset filled with the sound of automatic fire.
***
Alice was asleep in the lead chopper. But her mind roamed elsewhere, on a barren planet under a purple sky, hovering above a huge black pyramid. She knew she was dreaming – just as she knew she was also present here, on the alien planet.
And this time, I’m in control.
She looked down at the dark hole at the top of the pyramid. She also knew that she could be back in the chopper in the blink of an eye. But she remembered the old Professor’s words.
What if it works both ways?
She willed herself down into the darkness.
The further down she went, the more her eyes adjusted. Everything was bathed in a thin green dancing light. The pyramid seemed to be a massive empty shell, sepulchral, like a huge cathedral. She was still high above the floor of the building but already she saw things moving below. The floor was covered in the green slime, but this was still fluid, bubbling and frothing, throwing up high spouts reaching upward only to fall back with a splash to the lake of slime. Thicker globules seemed to swim through the fluid.
As she watched, other pictures came to mind – images she had seen the first time the alien presence entered her mind. Anatomical textbook pictures, memories of the morgue, and dancing spirals of DNA molecules swam before her.
The globules swimming in the fluid gained mass, swelling into all too familiar shapes – a torso, two legs, two arms, and a head, conical and distended, but almost human. Ten of them grew from the slime and stood, stock still.
As one, they lifted their heads and stared straight at the point where Alice hung.
She felt them tickle in her mind.
Stop it!
She pushed.
The figures staggered, almost fell, and Alice took her chance. She willed herself up and sped, faster than thought, until she once again hovered high above the pyramid. But still the alien mind tickled inside hers, probing for a way in.
Wake up you idiot!
She opened her eyes and sat up, too fast, bashing her head against the chopper’s bulkhead.
She was given no time to reflect on her experience. Her headset rang with the sound of automatic gunfire.
***
Down in the storeroom the marines’ movement became more purposeful.
“Shag it, Marines,” the lead officer said. They started to move out. It took three of them to carry the shielded box containing the samples the Professor had identified as being required. The rest of the soldiers had already gone up the steps, heading towards the sound of gunfire. Hiscock stayed close to the Professor – the old man looked more tired than ever, and every step upwards seemed to take a huge effort.
The sound of gunfire above them intensified as the arriving teams came to the aide of the team at the window.
It sounds like quite a fight.
He found out just how bad it was a few minutes later when they finally reached the top of the stairs and looked out over the open-plan office.
Guns blazed in strobe-flash booms and shell casings rained like confetti. Most of the marines were in cover positions behind tables and desks – but there were three dead soldiers in the passageway. One lay face up -- his skull little more than a green bubbling ruin.
Is it the rain?
He soon saw it was not the rain – it was something worse. The aliens had produced another stage in their life forms.
He saw the first in silhouette only, and thought it was one of the marines breaking from cover. But this was no man. It did, however, look like a soldier. It was so tall that its head almost touched the roof, which made it nearly eight feet tall. Against the light from outside it looked black, but when it moved Hiscock saw that it was built from the same shiny carapace that covered the drones. But this time arms replaced pincers -- long thin arms with broad palms and needle-like fingers. The head was oval and featureless, the chest a broad wedge tapering to a tiny waist above wide hips and stout muscular legs. It moved in a fluid motion, light on its feet like a dancer, but strong enough to lift a desk and toss it aside with no apparent effort.
And now that Hiscock had registered it, he could see a dozen or more of the tall black shapes moving quickly through the office, so fast that the marines had trouble picking their targets.
The marines with them dropped the case of Uranium to ready their weapons. The case hit the ground with a clang. As one, the heads of the aliens turned towards the doorway where Hiscock and the Professor stood.
“I think they’re after the Uranium,” the Professor said. The old man was staring in shock at this new alien manifestation.
“And we can’t let them get it,” Hiscock replied.
The marines, bolstered by the new support, started to push forward from their positions, advancing in a line, spewing and spraying volley after volley at the aliens in a lethal crossfire. Pieces of black shell flew and green slime spattered the floor and walls, adding a faint green luminescence to the scene.
Hiscock and the Professor helped a marine manhandle the case of Uranium across the floor as the team headed through the room, making for escape via the window. The door behind them was knocked open with a bang that sounded even above the gunfire. More tall aliens came through the doorway – tens of them.
They found another way in.
The lead officer went pale.
“Double time guys,” he said. “We can’t afford to get surrounded.”
The marines moved swiftly into a wedge formation pointed at the window, with the three men carrying the shielded case in the center. Guns blazed almost continuously, lighting the room like a thrash metal rock concert. More and more fighters poured into the room. Although the marines managed to clear a path towards the window, they were followed every inch of the way by a swarm of aliens. Despite the wall of gunfire, the fighters were getting closer by the second.
By the time the team reached the
window and started to make their way outside it was obvious that they were not going to get across the space between them and the choppers.
We’ll be overrun in seconds.
The lead officer turned to the Professor.
“Head for the chopper. We’ll cover you.”
Hiscock saw the look that passed between the Professor and the officer.
They won’t be able to hold. And they know it.
Hiscock helped the Professor and a marine carry the case, struggling to maintain balance on the hardened ridges of the slime. Behind them the marine’s weapons fired continuous volleys into the advancing fighters. From the corner of his eye he saw a massed throng of the bipeds coming over a hill to their left, like a swarm of ants.
“Hurry it up lad,” the Professor said. “I think we’re in a wee bit of trouble.”
When they reached the chopper they threw the case aboard. The Professor turned to call the marines – but he was too late. They were just in time to see the fighters pour over the soldiers. Several guns kept firing for a second then they too went quiet. The remaining soldiers in the choppers set up a covering fire, but no one came alive out of the melee.
Seconds later the alien soldiers turned as one to face the choppers.
“Get in,” Alice shouted from the doorway. As they climbed in past her, Hiscock watched as she scrunched up her eyes and focussed.
The soldier aliens stood still – for all of a second before Alice fell into Hiscock’s arms.
“Get us out of here,” the Professor shouted.
The choppers started to rise, just as the mass of aliens came straight for them. The lead chopper quickly rose well clear of the attackers, as did the one on the left-hand side. The remaining chopper did not make it. Three fighters threw themselves forward– straight into the rotors that hadn’t quite got up to speed. The engine sputtered and before the pilot could do anything about it a mound of attackers swarmed all over it.
The chopper went up in a ball of orange flame as it was blown apart from the inside
Someone didn’t want to wait for the aliens to get them, and in the process they took scores of the attackers with them.
As the escaping choppers banked away a pall of black smoke was all that showed where the other chopper had been.
They had lost almost two thirds of their forces in getting the Uranium.
***
Alice Noble was in despair.
They’re humanoid… and the aliens got the idea from me -- from my mind to their pods in less than a day. What have I done?
Her nose bled again, and her head felt like it had been pounded repeatedly against the bulkhead. She cleaned up the nosebleed as well as she could. By that time, the Professor had stowed the Uranium and come to sit by her. Opposite them the surviving soldiers were in various stages of shock at just how quickly things had gone bad.
It’s all my fault.
The Professor took her hand.
“We got the Uranium,” he said. “At least we have that.”
She looked the old man in the eye and voiced her fears. She told him about her dream, about the lake of green slime and the humanoids that grew from it.
“It’s my fault,” she said when her story was finished.
The Professor smiled sadly.
“No girl… did you bring them here? Did you cause the green rain? No. There’s no fault here. But I was right about one thing. Your gift does work both ways. We may be able to use that fact to our advantage.”
He let go of her hand.
“But not yet,” he said. “We can’t let them get any hint of our plan.”
“Then throw me out now,” Alice said. “I’m risking the whole thing just by being here.”
The Professor pushed her back in her seat.
“You’re not going anywhere. As I said – you may be our ace in the hole before the end. That outweighs the risk.”
He left to talk to the pilot.
Alice felt better for having talked to him… but only slightly. She tried to calm her mind by staring out the window, but the sight of nothing but expanses of green sludge only depressed her all the more.
***
The choppers flew over the green sludge for several hours. The lights came on at one point, and Hiscock realized that dusk was falling.
The craft descended half an hour after that.
“Are we at Yellowstone?” he asked the Professor.
“Not yet. No… we need to refuel. There’s an Air Force Base here… we’re hoping it’ll be safe for an overnight stop.”
Ten minutes later they landed on the edge of a runway that seemed clear of the green sludge. Hiscock, Noble and the Professor were left in the chopper as the marines checked out the area.
Five minutes later a marine spoke in their headset.
“All clear. We’ve found a defensible position for the night. I’ll send a team for you.”
Four marines led them to a squat concrete building a hundred yards away. Three other marines were already refueling the choppers. By now it was nearly full dark.
Hiscock was led into what looked like a canteen. Two marines had already set up camp stoves, and the smell of cooking food filled the air.
“Chow in ten minutes,” one said. “Only Smeat and beans, but better than nothing. And there’ll be coffee in five.”
The soldiers who had been refueling the choppers returned. Hiscock realized there were fourteen of them left – two pilots, nine marines and the three of them.
A young lieutenant was the most senior officer remaining. He sent four of his men back outside on the first guard of the night. The rest of them waited their turn for a plate of the hot food and a mug of coffee. Conversation was limited. Hiscock guessed they were thinking the same as he was. The death of their colleagues and the sight of the plains of green sludge had affected everyone.
Will we ever recover from this? Or are we just fiddling while Rome burns?
He had just finished his coffee when the Professor came and whispered in his ear.
“Come with me lad,” the old man said. “I think you’ll be interested.”
The old man led him through the canteen and down a flight of stairs to come to a small dark room. An open trapdoor had light coming from below, and Hiscock immediately knew what was there.
It’s yet another bunker.
The Professor let him go down first.
The place was even bigger than the one he had lost – a vast complex with many rooms, all packed full of provisions and water – enough to keep an army for years to come.
Hiscock turned to the Professor.
“There was no one here? Where did they all go?”
The Professor shrugged.
“I doubt we will ever know. But will it do? For us?”
Hiscock looked around and nodded.
“If you’re planning on a bolt hole, sure. But what about the volcano?”
The Professor was deep in thought.
“This far from the Caldera the main problem will be hot ash in the air and on the ground. Will this place cope with that?”
Hiscock laughed.
“Prof, this place looks like it was built to survive everything... including a nuclear bomb going off on top of it. It’ll do for us.”
The Professor smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
“The only good news we’ve had all day. Maybe the tide is turning after all.”
Hiscock caught sight of a bank of monitors behind the Professor.
“We have comms?”
A marine sat at a desk, trying to get a contact on the radio.
“We have comms,” the Professor said, and the tiredness was back in his eyes. “But nobody to talk to as of yet. There may be others in bunkers like this, but I fear they are keeping quiet, for fear of discovery.”
That I can understand.
Only one of the bank of screens showed a picture. It was a broadcast from a desert region. A vast army of humanoid aliens, ranging in height from four
to twelve feet, strode across the land like a swarm of locusts. Above them, a fleet of black-egg shaped craft sailed across the sky.
The Professor spoke in a hushed voice.
“I don’t think there’s many of us left. Didn’t you notice? And the air is getting thicker. I fear we might be already too late.”
Hiscock looked around the bunker.
“We could always hunker down here. Sit it out. We have enough food and water to keep us alive for years. Surely the aliens will find what they want and leave?”
The Professor couldn’t take his eyes from the television screen and the fleet of craft sailing across the view.
“I don’t think they have any intention of leaving. I think we’re being terraformed… turned into a place where they can thrive… and they’re already well on the way there. We need to get this mission done. Get some sleep. We’ll be moving at first light.”
Alice sat in a small common room away from the canteen. The marines were playing poker, and the sounds of them chatting, and even laughing, seemed incongruous to her after the losses of the day. She knew it was just the soldiers’ coping mechanism – the only way they knew to get through.
It doesn’t mean I have to like it.
There was a television in the corner of the common room, but all it showed, on every channel, was microwave static. It was of little comfort to know that the dancing white dots on the screen were a message from the very beginnings of the Universe. It only served to remind her of the vastness of space, and how small and insignificant her place in it was.
The headache had receded, helped by several steaming mugs of coffee, but despite the caffeine fix she felt dog-tired.
But I can’t sleep. They’ll find me.
She couldn’t let go of the images of the humanoid aliens rising from the slime. And now the Professor seemed to think that she might be of use. She couldn’t think how. More and more she found herself wishing she were back on the island, stuck in the recliner with a beer and a hockey match.
There might never be any beer and hockey ever again.
That thought, more than anything else she had seen and done, brought home to her the enormity of their situation. Tears came unbidden, and once she started she couldn’t stop. She shut down, retreating into herself, letting the grief take her.
The Invasion (Extended Version) Page 10
