Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught

by Andrew McGregor

  The admiral’s eyes widened as he drew a sharp breath in realisation, understanding the small figure before him possibly spoke the truth, then his vision narrowed as he glanced to either side suspiciously, seeing the shock on his colleagues’ faces, ‘You have new weaponry…we cannot let that fall to the enemy…’

  Begum smiled reassuringly, ‘Our engineers have synchronised the laser rifles with the user’s life signs…if they are parted from the weapon for a period of time, or the assigned soldier dies, a small charge will devastate key parts of the rifle…it will be useless to use and for any possible research.’ The small emissary swallowed, ‘We will be using other weaponry once we near earth…some we have upgraded for your marines to deploy…others not.’ He lowered his head once more, ‘We are a humble race now, but deserve the right to reserve some of our finest traditional weapons for our own glory in likely death…’ Begum’s eyes sparkled as he briefly looked up into the lights above, tears welling as he blinked, ‘The mother ship can distract the Morgon gunners…we have a new technology that can briefly project a mirror image of our great vessel in another location…for perhaps thirty earth seconds. Enough to engage their observers before their short range scans cast doubt upon what their evil red snake eyes see…’

  The small Fahimian stared up at the admiral, his head slowly moving to either side and looking into each senior officer’s eyes individually as a determined voice resounded around them, ‘Your new allies wish to commit to this strategy…we will be victorious…’

  The senior commanders glanced at each other, several nodding and forcing smiles at the proud insolence, the admiral clearing his throat, ‘Very well…we agree to your proposal. But this will be a joint operation…’ He stared towards the Trevakian officer stood near the Fahimian, ‘Captain Dugachard…’

  The slim Trevakian female snapped to attention, her boots cracking together, eyes straining forward as she raised her voice officially, ‘Yes Sir!’

  The admiral leant back in his chair, resting his hands on the edge of the small table before him, ‘Captain Dugachard…your unit will accompany our new allies, bolstering their numbers.’ His eyes widened, ‘Your six hundred marines are equipped with the new laser rifles…they will also be issued with our new blaster pistols for close combat. Ensure they receive additional training on the lower decks and hangar in preparation…I will assign a special operations unit to your command for assistance.’

  He nodded solemnly towards Begum, ‘You have our permission and additional troops to reinforce your attack…I wish...hope for your every success. We will deploy additional transports for support and our fighters will intercept any of their defensive craft…’ He smiled grimly, ‘In just over forty earth hours we will arrive and launch the initial assault.’

  Chapter Six: Far Eastern Troubles

  A World in Peril

  Downtown Bangkok, Thailand

  Tracer fire zipped across the brightly lit streets, screams and shouts of alarm ringing out as the deafening gunfire recommenced, echoing across the building fronts and neon flashing bars. Burning cars and buses lined the forward thoroughfares, nervously crouched soldiers in camouflaged uniforms ducked behind makeshift barricades as they stared south and westwards towards the gunfire.

  In the darkened early morning sky above, helicopter spotlights swept through the dark billowing smoke clouds, further soldiers being dropped by ropes into dust swirling rear areas behind the street fighting, muffled sirens wailing across the city. The troopers were deeply relieved that the stubborn initial defensive battles had provided time for mobile missile batteries to be lowered onto hotel and apartment rooftops, the slower Morgon transports currently lacking sufficient swift fighter support to engage against such defences. In rear streets, further high calibre cannon and anti-aircraft batteries were being towed to crossroads and open areas, the crews busily unloading shells as armoured personnel carriers roared away to collect further stocks.

  Shattered bodies lay across the forward streets, many cut down in the sporadic firefights that had erupted as Morgon shock troops advanced east and northwards from the international airport, others split open from vicious slashes, the ornate two bladed swords of the invaders dripping with fresh blood. The enemy patrols had become far more vigorous and ambitious as further transports landed across the two runways, reinforcing the armoured soldiers that had taken the main airport buildings.

  Many civilians were simply herded away by the Morgon troopers, those that protested being instantly despatched and beheaded, the bloodied survivors huddled and sectioned into groups to be transported out from the airport. The busy sex and transsexual trade of one of the contested city areas created numerous scantily clad captives, some initial confusion rising amongst the red glowing helmet eyes and hissing muscular armoured frames. Then a collective realisation…the decision was easy, amongst the hungry invaders there was no discrimination…succulent warm meat was still food, no matter what package it came in.

  Across the now smouldering international airport, flames still licked from smashed terminal windows and lounges as Morgon heavy artillery and ammunition was being unloaded, crews with grey lightly armoured bodies pushing mortars and mobile pieces into place, the barrels aiming out towards a still brightly lit city beyond the western airport perimeter.

  Sporadic fighting still continued in some of the outer airport buildings, the few surviving defence forces…security, customs officers and police gathered in small groups and continuing a struggle that could only result ultimately in their own deaths. A collective all-consuming hatred for the invaders was now blinding a logical judgement to flee, the men and women being hunted across the remote offices and cargo sheds by squads of camouflaged Morgon grenadiers, the invaders impressed by the defensive guile of the locals, their decapitated skulls now gruesomely prized as souvenirs of a new battle.

  Many of the dwindling number of grim and determined defenders were deeply traumatised or suffering from shock, witnessing at close hand the sickening slaughter of those that reluctantly surrendered, the enemy hacking defenceless and wounded colleagues or countrymen to bits with sparkling double bladed swords seemingly for sport…the Morgons did not recognise surrendering enemy combatants as deserving of respect. The helpless were different…they were there to be plundered and consumed.

  Aat stared grimly into the flickering glow filled distance, tears filling the slim twenty one year old’s brown eyes as he glimpsed the collapsed airframes and smouldering warped aircraft debris that once displayed the proud national carrier colours of many nations from across the globe. Panning the small pair of binoculars round, he sighed deeply, seeing the burning wrecks of two Boeing aircraft, the British Airways and American Airlines 747 jumbos sitting on remote stands at the end of one of the two runways.

  He had been immensely proud to join the security search staff at the airport, his mother and father encouraging him to learn English and Chinese to progress in a modern diversifying world. Working hard during his years’ service, he had become recognised as a reliable and trustworthy member of staff, perhaps soon destined for promotion as his superiors considered seconding him to differing departments for experience, the first opportunity arising to work with airfield security.

  Lowering the glasses, he ducked down in the first floor office, glass shards crunching under his boots as he slumped wearily against the wall, looking towards the three shivering figures opposite. Their light blue shirts and black uniformed trousers caked with dirt and sweat, the four unarmed security officers having been patrolling the outer perimeter fence when fighting had erupted across the airport.

  Initially running breathlessly to a cargo entry security post as explosions rocked one of the distant airport terminals, they were ordered to an airline crew building further along the perimeter as a designated collection point, a virtually panicking senior airport officer sending three other following officers to join them. They had sprinted away, hearing jet engines scream down the runway, tracers rising after t
he large aircraft as it swept upwards, Aat just glancing the American airlines tailfin, his features straining in dread as he wished he was aboard the jumbo jet.

  In the ensuing confusion, the small group of security officers had been forgotten, first from the rising panic and then as the Morgons advanced on the security post, slaughtering the cowering staff one by one and setting up defensive positions to secure their positions around the shattered buildings…any time for potential escape had passed.

  Aat shuddered as the almost pleading voice opposite, the younger male officer sobbing, ‘What do we do now? Stay here…we are already dead like the others…’

  The older stout officer next to the youngster grasped his shoulder tightly, the figures sat huddled and low next to filing cabinets against the wall opposite that backed onto the stairs. Aat stared up at the maps above them, flight manifests and crew member’s names attached to differing aircraft, the office manager having been planning future crew rosters the day before.

  He sighed, tears once again filling his eyes as he realised one of the bloodied mutilated bodies on the floor below had probably been working in the shattered office they now sought refuge in just hours earlier, the small airline party on the ground floor abruptly ending as panic spread across the cowering guests. First from distant gunfire and explosions as the whimpering guests hid under desks, then from the lights that swept through the windows as transport ships patrolled the perimeter, the side doors open as Morgon machine gunners scanned the terrain below.

  The airline staff had sat in virtual silence as the lights passed, then stiffened as the shrill sounds of alloy armoured boots approached, the loud cracking of steel against the front doors as they shattered inwards. The two tall black armoured soldiers had stepped into the wide office, red sparkling eyes scanning the cowering human figures, the airline manager stepping forward reluctantly and pleading for the lives of his employees.

  The black helmets had studied the shorter human, the man swallowing hard in rising terror as he stammered that the staff were unarmed and could not inflict any harm, his eyes dropping in dread as he heard muffled screams from a nearby building, the rasp of swords against walls and desks as a neighbouring airline crew were hacked to pieces.

  One of the black helmets had lowered to one side, the armoured plate sparkling as flames erupted outside, the building next door being set alight by the Morgons as further horrified screams from inside the nearby block intensified. The red eyes sparkled, an armoured fist rising suddenly to grasp the airline manager’s throat, the sharp twist and crack sealing his fate as the body went limp, discarded to the floor as horrified gasps swept round the room, a gurgling coming from the manager’s throat as an alloy boot crunched abruptly down on his skull. The sound of swords being pulled from the sheaths resounded round the room as eyes closed in terror, the terrified whimpering rising.

  Then Aat shuddered once more, hearing a dull thud below, the eyes of the three figures widening opposite him as a scraping noise ensued, then a sickening crunch and screech of a blade, the young security officer raising a finger to his lips, swallowing nervously.

  His wide eyes moved to the darkened space beside his shaking colleagues, heart pounding as he stared at the top of the stairs, fleeting red pin lights piercing the gloom, then a dull thud as an armoured boot stepped onto the lowest stair.

  Deep below the South China Sea

  Tony Shelley swallowed hard, nausea churning through his empty stomach as he stared into the room before him in horror. His sweating frame was shivering uncontrollably, an extended college break in Thailand having involved a considerable quantity of chemical enhancements, his body now suffering from the extreme effects of a rapid withdrawal with accompanying rising paranoia and overwhelming fear.

  The lower corridor of the submerged ship was mostly dull resin grating, faint sounds of running water or liquid just beneath the walkway, low pin spot lighting glowing at ankle height the only illumination. The walls were smeared with caked dirt, dried blood and excrement intermingled with the accumulated debris gathered in crevices and hollows above, the stench adding to that of unwashed and fearful bodies.

  The young man’s eyes were wide with shock, the medium sized rectangular cell crammed with people at the far end, furthest from the doorway, most dishevelled and several whimpering, their few clothes soaked and matted with dust, some heavily stained. Gasping as he realised most of the grimy inhabitants were young and shivering, he stepped forward with the others from his transport craft, two large armoured Morgon soldiers pushing the small throng of miserable captives from behind with the butts of their automatic rifles.

  Glancing round in rising uneasiness, Tony swallowed once more, the chemical aftertaste still in his throat from the night before. His body shivering as he looked back, he glimpsed the seated group visibly detract in fear as the two Morgon soldiers lowered their helmets to step through the steel bordered doorway, red flickering eyes scanning the huddled fearful groups in relish at the terror. Ashen faces averted eyes downwards in subservience to avoid eye contact as the newcomers nervously began to lower themselves onto the grating before the existing human captives.

  Then the black armour plated soldiers stepped back, the steel meshed door slamming shut behind them, bolts rasping across as the door was locked, the two large silhouettes moving along the other side of the grating and mesh wall, boots cracking against the steel grooved floor below as armoured claws were deliberately raked across the mesh wall, the sparks provoking the prisoners to whimper loudly.

  Tony shook his head, looking across the mostly nude bodies around him, the Morgons now seeming to have visited several holiday islands in the last twenty four hours, the nationalities surrounding him representing numerous nations, his stomach beginning to churn once more in rising apprehension.

  Nodding to a whimpering curvaceous blonde girl nearby, her body nude apart from a torn t-shirt, he forced a smile, winking and whispering, ‘We are still alive at least…many are not. We should be thankful for that…’

  A young, lean black haired nude teenager turned next to her abruptly, his lips pursing in frustrated fear, a French accent strong, ‘Are you stupid, Englishman? These scum don’t take prisoners…they are attacking all across the globe, slaughtering our soldiers…’

  Tony shrugged, licking his lips once more, perspiration beginning to form across his creased brow as he indicated to the young woman, her face turning to lower against the Frenchman’s chest, ‘I-I was just trying to cheer her up…sorry…we are prisoners…’

  The black haired teenager gritted his teeth, glaring at the English student as he raised his arms, ‘Do you not realise where you are…what this corridor is?’ His arms swept around his younger sobbing girlfriend, pulling her tightly to his chest as he stared in anger at Tony, his eyes filling with emotion, ‘These are their food cells…this is the abattoir floor, the kitchens of these monsters are above. They select several every day for a morning and evening feast…you will hear their screams as they cut them up in the end room…they don’t even kill them first. It’s not water below…it’s human blood!’

  North of the Nakdong River, South Korea

  Gusung Shin stared into the rear view mirror of his Hyundai, his wife and two children now cowering uncomfortably in the rear foot wells, the family dog before the moved front passenger seat sat trembling at the fearful emotional reaction of his human family, his whines for reassurance going unheard.

  The view in the mirror of the wide bridge behind him was terrifying, splattering rain drops blurring the rising black smoke clouds, fires in the many far shattered vehicles burning out of control as fuel and combustible fabrics ignited. Above the main imposing structure spanning the river, heavy plumes of thick acrid smoke and embers swept upwards as civilians ran in panic, deserting their cars and coaches on the south bank as they fled northwards, traffic progress now blocked. Green sludge pools steamed on the south side of the bridge, the raindrops sizzling before evaporating in the acid, soldi
ers nervously running past diminishing bodies in the putrid sludge, their carbines raised.

  On the bridge and further along the southern motorway, South Korean marines desperately ushered the fleeing public forward, their camouflaged jackets and helmets moving feverishly to get as many people to safety as possible. Many glanced nervously upwards into the darkened forest that lined the thoroughfare, several trees still burning fiercely at the summit of the hill, Korean jets having just bombed the Morgon acid mortar battery.

  The forest was a virtual inferno on the heights, the jets using modified Napalm missiles before sharply banking away northwards, the roar of their engines terrifying the fleeing civilians below as the aircraft swept along the river at low level. Shattered armour and smouldering body parts lay between the burning trees, the intense heat melting and bending the mortar tubes, a Morgon forward support unit obliterated against a weapon they had never experienced before.

  The silhouettes of tall muscular figures skirted the rising steam and flames, the flickering illumination reflecting against thick armoured plate as branches cracked and splintered beneath the heavy bodies, several with mobile rocket launchers across their backs, the red glowing eyes of a commander staring down at the casualties in the clearing with rising anger and hatred. Glimpsing the molten decapitated helmet of the mobile artillery unit’s commander, the eyes glowed dark red, the dead officer had advanced too far forward in an eagerness to slaughter the fleeing residents from the south…