Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught

by Andrew McGregor

  The female intelligence ensign nodded, ‘Yes admiral…scanning in progress, but we advise you to reply…delay them, perhaps find out more?’ She turned to a male colleague, hissing, ‘Get it done!’ The young ensign nodded, his head dropping to stare at the screen before him.

  Shadian nodded in rising shock, ‘Very well…advise them who we are, that our empire respects the existence of other races and that we are unable to relinquish an ally, no matter how recent to such threats…advise this ‘Zett’ that we are open to peaceful negotiations and that I am in position as Admiral of this space station to represent the Trevakian Empire. That we have no interest in confronting their race, but simply to work in harmony with them…as we do with all other races that are aligned or share similar principles with our Empire.’

  The officer nodded respectfully, a faint smile fleetingly passing across her face from the encouragement, ‘Yes Sir…message compiling…should be sent shortly.’

  The young male operator rose to his feet, coughing nervously, ‘Admiral, I have to report Fahimian files have now downloaded information on these ‘Terraxiles’.’ The ensign stiffened, glancing across at his commander in dread and glimpsing the disgruntled nod to proceed, ‘Fahimian files state this race comes from six planets in the Kliskoe system, they are technologically advanced, but it seems not to the level of the Fahimian Republic. They have standard weapons, believed supplied by the Morgons with several ships. As a race, they are approximately six feet tall and heavily muscled, of leathered scarred thick skin due to the harsh and bitter climate of their planets.’ The young ensign swallowed hard, ‘It seems they are bitter fighters…system reports of them consuming the Fahimians as a delicacy in tribal gatherings…even using them as sacrifices to their supposed gods. Our new allies…these Fahimians, believe them to be in alliance with the Morgons as they both seemed to coordinate attacks across their Republic before the downfall.’

  Admiral Shadian nodded in weariness, ‘We have no choice then…pull the cruisers back to defensive positions either side of us…have the fighters patrol our area and protect Morasat below. Once we establish their intent, we will extend patrols across to the front lines…until then, they will have to survive on their own…’

  The young ensign nodded obediently, the female intelligence officer looking up to report, ‘Sir…message is sent, I will report any reply…’

  Admiral Shadian slumped back into his chair, his hand rubbing an unshaved chin deep in troubled thought, as a couple of the operators glanced up in intrigue, ‘Interesting situation…the Morgons have perhaps taunted us and drawn all our reserves to a remote part of a distant galaxy…to protect and fight with our new ally. We believe a potential weakening stalemate…’ He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, ‘They withdraw some of their forces to make us believe they are under pressure, perhaps even beaten. Once our reserves pass, they slow their withdrawal and another race appears…they have been waiting for this.’ He stiffened once more, rising from his seat and staring across the damaged bridge in horror, his expression straining, ‘They have formed another trap, and we have fallen into it once again…we are simply reacting to their moves and they are making us believe we are attacking…we are simply failing to see their deliberate provocation, they have an overall plan to destroy us here and then elsewhere!’ He snapped his fingers as if in enlightened thought, two dust smeared small Fahimian figures emerging onto the bridge as summoned.

  The female intelligence officer stood up abruptly, her voice echoing across the bridge, ‘Admiral Shadian…these ‘Terraxiles’ have just declared outright war upon us!’

  The two Fahimians listened intently to their earpieces for the translation, then their heads dropped together in uncomfortable embarrassment, Admiral Shadian stiffening as he shouted with adrenalin across the bridge, ‘Battle Stations! Full Alert! Get me a secure link to Planet Earth and Morasat…we will open the portal for a brief face to face meeting. I also want a briefing on the ongoing battle in this station…we now need to retake the upper levels quickly…these Morgon scum have done it again!’

  Chapter Two: A Force nears

  David Bland glanced briefly into the slim full length mirror next to the door of his compact officer’s room, the quarters situated on the lower starboard side of the dark vessel. Hesitating, he leant forward, staring into the reflection of his own dark lined eyes and the tinges of grey in his black hair, his mind struggling to comprehend the sight before him.

  There seemed to be a different person stood staring back at him, the physical exterior evoking distant memories of an airport manager in a suit, the recollection of a blue tabard and airport ID prompting a faint smile as he considered the staff and busy working environment that had been his life less than a month previously. Now his eyes and forehead exhibited the lines of stresses that he had never imagined he would experience, of vivid memories he had never considered in his wildest dreams would occur during a relatively ‘safe’ choice of career.

  He drew a deep breath, straightening and examining at the combat uniform he now wore, a comfortable thick grey tunic with padded hugging breeches and tight fitting boots that covered his shins. A hand ran over the drab military smock, his eyes studying the enhanced lightweight reinforced mesh cloth, the intriguing material able to change camouflage colours to match the surroundings. Reaching for his shoulder and chest armour from the purpose built housing above the door, he thrust it over his head in satisfaction, his jaw tensing in futile disgust as he considered the colleagues he cared for and the decisions they had made. The security officers that had now enlisted in the Trevakian Marine Corps, albeit the new human and allied contingent, a mixed division comprised of surviving experienced soldiers extracted from their new allies and young men and women from his staff, even a couple of Americans and British soldiers having enlisted.

  The shoulder and chest armour tensed briefly around his upper frame as he smiled fondly, a hand running across the thick resin protection, David turning his shoulder to proudly examine his rank’s star and military decoration. His thoughts grimly wandered to consider it was the perfect new unit to create…to motivate and draw the young into a war that seemed never ending and overwhelming in its brutality and annihilation. He nodded in morose conclusion, glancing briefly back into the reflection of his own eyes…perhaps there was no other way or life to live…there was nowhere to hide now.

  A brief knock at the door startled him from his thoughts, his frame jerking in surprise as a muffled voice came from the other side of the reflective resin, ‘Lieutenant Bland? Weapons and tactics training is about to commence in the forward hangar sir. Captain Dugachard would like to conduct a short briefing beforehand…she is in the armoury and has requested you be present.’

  David reached for the helmet hung from the wall, clearing his throat, ‘Understood…thank you, please inform the captain I will be along shortly…’ Raising the head protection, he glanced back into the reflection, his eyes running along the red lining around the bubbled armoured resin, the red markings on the helmet sides as it tensed snugly and reassuringly around his skull.

  The slender Trevakian officer turned abruptly as the reflective doors of the armoury swept open with a low hiss, nodding as several junior officers stepped into the room, their eyes widening at the flickering screen behind the female captain. Dugachard waved a hand, her expression solemn, ‘Gather round, we have some fragmented signal updates from earth, not many but intercepts from a destroyed Trevakian vessel and one that is waiting for us in orbit around an outer planet in that galaxy named Mars.’

  The officers gathered in a group of fifteen around the captain, static surging across the display unit briefly before the picture cleared, a blue uniformed female intelligence officer staring into the lens, captain Dugachard continuing, ‘This officer is on a forward reconnaissance battle cruiser orbiting this Mars planet in the earth galaxy, we have lost two ships destroyed above planet earth and the Morgons are now attacking the h
uman home planet in force.’ Her vision rested on David and a couple of other human commanders in seemingly brief sympathy before her eyes darkened, ‘We know they have two warships in orbit above earth, the enemy’s largest and most formidable class of ordinance, their weapon power alone more powerful than anything we possess.’ She turned and started to walk slowly to the side of the screen, ‘Our main objective is to neutralise these two warships before we provide additional firepower to the planet below…a challenging task to say the least.’ She nodded in understanding as a couple of the junior officers frowned in protest, raising a hand for them to remain silent, ‘We have eleven battle cruisers and five destroyers with a small number of support and attack vessels extracted from the 9th and 10th fleets along with this vessel and one to join us as we approach Mars.’

  Turning, she faced the officers with unflinching determination, ‘You must understand that the destruction of these two enemy ships will eliminate enemy reinforcements and support to the planet’s surface. We will never get a better opportunity to inflict such a devastating defeat and severely weaken the Morgons, perhaps even contribute to turning the tide of the war…or at least buy us some time to consolidate and reinforce our positions across the fronts. The enemy are far from home and unable to reinforce as easily as they have in the past…fleet have advised us to neutralise the threat in this remote sector if not in support of our new allies.’

  Dugachard indicated to the screen, ‘Intelligence officer Zettle will provide us with their current operational update from scanning and proposals to land our troops on earth.’ She turned to the screen, ‘Please proceed Zettle…’

  The female intelligence officer stiffened to attention, static once more surging across the picture briefly, ‘Thank you Captain Dugachard…I will be as quick as I can be, I am not sure how quickly the Morgons will be able to intercept and jam this transmission.’ She smiled confidently, ‘But they will be unable to decipher it…we are using new scrambling software provided by the Fahimians.’

  The ensign stiffened again, becoming more formal, ‘Our long range scans indicated that the Morgon warships have adopted opposing orbits above earth. We are the last remaining vessel from an earlier engagement and were sent here for reconnaissance, with both other Trevakian ships being completely destroyed…fortunately with the loss of few crew on one as they evacuated to the planet’s surface. Our thoughts lay with the fallen on the other vessel, bravely sacrificed to allow the others to escape’ The female glanced down at the screen before her, taking a deep breath, ‘Damage to the planet’s surface has been considerable…the western seaboard of the United States has been completely destroyed with the loss of extensive life and we are just receiving sensor readings that Moscow has been obliterated. We believe the Morgons are preparing their dropships and additional substantial forces in readiness for a full invasion.’

  Hesitating as the junior officers shifted uncomfortably, several shaking their heads, the Trevakian intelligence ensign continued, ‘Fighting exists across the planet with human forces seemingly in retreat on most fronts. Enemy strength is unknown, but they seem to possess numerous armoured units and a heavy air presence, no doubt supplied and reinforced from the warships…in short, we destroy these two premier ships, then form a protective shield in high orbit to prevent any other vessels getting through. Then we eliminate the Morgon forces on the surface and assist with upgrading earth’s defensive and productive capability…allow them time to enter the war on an even footing.’

  Captain Dugachard turned her head towards the screen, ‘Zettle, we have additional new weaponry that we are currently producing across our ships and will supply to earth. The schematics are also being delivered to the Trevakian High Command under escort…this and the ongoing battle on the surface will require us to land troops and escort this new technology to earth’s factories and governments…what are your suggestions ensign?’

  The intelligence officer nodded, ‘We challenged the ship’s computers to configure all possible landing scenarios…the results are intriguing. With only two Morgon ships and their close proximity to earth, there are numerous small temporary ‘blind spots’ continually forming across the upper atmosphere that could provide access as the two vessels lose synchronisation for short periods. If any of their vessels join them from deep space or if the warships withdraw further, then they would be able to close these opportunities relatively quickly.’ The ensign glanced down once more nervously, ‘Entry into the atmosphere will be extremely dangerous as the enemy will be able to see our dropships, but we have the option to offer temporary distortion to their scanners and potentially create ‘shadows’ in other areas to confuse them. With the sheer volume of their fighters near the surface, we can consider they may be too busy to disengage and intercept before it is too late.’

  The ensign stared back into the screen confidently, ‘I will take my leave now captain, you have just under two further days of travel before you reach us and we will be scanning deep space until we join with your relief effort. We will sustain zero communication until you enter our orbit and then only on differing frequencies. My commander wishes to catch the enemy completely by surprise.’ Raising a fist to her chest abruptly, the intelligence officer’s eyes sparkled, ‘Our time is now commander…we will not fail in our endeavours!’

  The junior officers’ boots slammed together, their own fists rising to their chests as captain Dugachard replicated their actions, David’s eyes widening as he stared down at the clenched fist across his own breastplate, the senior officer opposite grinning mischievously at the lieutenant’s obvious surprise to the instinctive response.

  Chapter Three: Britain and France

  A World in Peril

  Normandy, France

  Kurt Hausser and Mitch sat back in the folding chairs, raising two bottles of beer in a toast, the middle aged men grinning at each other in relief from either side of the camping table, their wives chattering in the Mercedes camper van, two children shrieking in joy as they played in the field next to the rough car park by the side of a dual carriageway.

  Mitch swigged from his bottle, lowering it onto the table top as he cleared his throat, ‘Well…I was dubious at first, but I agree now we should stay here…watch what is happening from a distance.’ He grinned ironically, raising the beer bottle once more in salute, ‘We came to Normandy to see the sights our fathers saw and ran at the earliest sign of an enemy…our ancestors did not have that option, they fought on.’ The American swigged from the bottle, chuckling, ‘You were right…we stay and watch what they do…we are still far safer than our forefathers.’

  Kurt nodded, sipping from his own drink, the middle aged men turning their heads to stare northwards towards the lower coast, both drifting into their own silent thoughts as they watched further parachutes drift downwards. Heavy transport aircraft circled at high altitude, Mitch shifting forward and raising a pair of binoculars as they glimpsed the small groupings of white chutes, artillery pieces and heavy ordinance being dropped behind the French special forces personnel. Thin plumes of dark smoke rose into the clouded sky from towns all along the shore, unattended burning cars and buildings left in hamlets, lanes and farms near the deep blue lower English Channel, a dull haze spreading across the horizon.

  The road to their right was busy, cars, vans and mobile homes passing in a steady two lane stream, tyres whistling on the tarmac, Kurt turning as the clattering of metal tracks began to resound across the fields, a convoy of armoured personnel carriers passing on the opposite carriageway and heading towards Caen. His body rose from the chair in curiosity as another convoy of three lorries towing several heavy artillery pieces slowed, then turned off the motorway, the cracking of gates and fence posts as they rumbled into the field opposite, turning in a wide arc to the north as the heavy vehicles bounced across the terrain, readying to position their high calibre guns.

  Mitch strained his eyes, swigging from the bottle once more, ‘I guess it is going to get very loud in an hou
r or so…you wanna stay for the night time flashes buddy? It’ll be getting dark soon. It looks like the French are taking no chances…helicopters and hundreds of soldiers…they mean business and probably want to contain them for the night.’ He sniffed, wiping his beer drenched mouth with the back of his hand, then hesitated, grinning, ‘What would you do? Build your defences and gather your forces? Send out patrols and gauge the enemy’s strength? Call down artillery and airstrikes when you identify their positions?’

  The German airport manager turned to look at his new friend, smiling grimly as he stared back towards the coast, the light slowly beginning to fade, ‘It seems little has changed in all these years…is that not what our grandfathers’ did? A game of deadly chess in the narrow hedgerows or bocage? It was a slaughter…on both sides.’ Sighing in rising despondency, he shook his head, ‘How many civilians are near the coast…even elderly and young that cannot escape the coming battle…where is the air power? We have seen a few French fighters and helicopters, but what about this enemy, what have they got?’

  Mitch shrugged, glancing over towards the lorries in the field opposite, his view broken by passing vehicles, French artillery crews manhandling the long barrelled guns into position, several beginning to dig furiously across the field, beginning to prepare defensive earth walls for their pieces and slit trenches. Lifting his bottle once more, he grimaced nervously, ‘I guess they lost a lot of fighters in the aerial battles over Britain…it may be a bloodbath if the enemy have airpower.’

  Both men glanced round as a shrill call came from the motorhome, Mitch’s wife giggling in relief, ‘We have a dinner for you two…this vehicle has everything hidden away…a British minced ‘Shepherd’s Pie’ and roasted vegetables…the potatoes are gorgeously fluffy! Helena is a wonderful cook!’ Mitch chuckled as Kurt grinned with relish, his stomach rumbling as he suddenly realised how hungry he was, the American female continuing in excitement, ‘There is wine too…as well as beer, they had a hidden cooler under the floor!’