Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught

by Andrew McGregor

  The decorated flyer slumped back into unconsciousness, Somas smiling fondly as he looked up at the approaching medical orderly, ‘You heard my commander…he will fly…we will fly. Tell the humans the Vipers are coming and that the enemy will fear us once more!’ The orderly’s eyes widened in disbelief, nodding slightly and retreating.

  Somas grinned in rising excitement, the beleaguered and demoralised few pilots he had recruited from Morasat would now reform a reduced Viper wing, the unit’s red distinctive insignia already proudly displayed across the fuselages of new enhanced silver fighters in the dispersal bays below.

  Adrenalin and nervous energy swept through his chest…now he had the last key to their success, the figure that every Trevakian pilot would fly to the ends of the heavens for…the legendary Flight Officer Anjara.

  Training Deck, Galactic Freedom

  Riaz smiled in rising excitement as he stared across the dimly lit training facility, one of his favourite places aboard Galactic Freedom, the only area he felt able to totally relax…perhaps even longed to be at, his thoughts already dismissing an emerging addiction to the deck of ultimate fitness. He had even made a few new Trevakian friends by sight, a mutual camaraderie gradually forming as the males and females glimpsed each other at the variety of military fitness and weapon simulation machines. Nods of recognition were their only usual communication as they concentrated on the challenging individual tasks at hand, all opposing the ships computers, the cunning tactic bonding the soldiers together and deployed on similar decks across all fleet vessels.

  He was intrigued by the atmosphere and machinery, the dim lights glowing above the machine he was required to visit next, low mists of cold water ejected from above when the machine deemed an exerciser required sustenance. Additional recommended fluids of varying flavours were also highlighted by down lighters after the machines had scanned the mineral and energy content of the user and determined if any additional supplements were required.

  Several figures were already hard at work on the low ceilinged and pin lit deck, most of his earth colleagues now having retired to bed, Debra Hardie and Tregan seen heading for an upper viewing bar, a seemingly now common occurrence on most evenings as the two became closer. To the muscular human’s far right side, a lengthy viewing window allowed the hard working soldiers a spectacular view out into space, distant stars and planets sparking across the dark void, mesmerising to most of the resting or recovering participants.

  Riaz’s eyes scanned the now familiar machines with almost emotional attachment, his muscles flexing in a warming up technique as he grinned, licking his lips and recalling the gym he frequented on earth, the equipment completely different and seeming utterly dull by comparison. The Trevakian fitness machines analysed the muscle density of the prospective user and adapted the weighted load or tension appropriately, continually varying the resistance to ensure maximum muscle definition and growth.

  Fascinated by the obvious effects and strategy, Riaz had noticed a higher definition to his figure in just five days, visiting the training deck in the morning with Shino and Debra Hardie, then returning secretively in the late evening to complete another workout. The elaborate machines had little structural comparison to the ones he was familiar with on earth, virtually restraining his limbs to ensure no injury could occur, the numerous sensors even recognising that his frame had already worked out that day and adjusting the oxygen levels and temperature above the machine to compensate.

  Electrical pulses would surge un-expectantly through tired muscles to ensure maximum benefit, soft light beams above the machine moving from a relaxing green haze to flashing amber or red when the technology had determined the particular muscle group had received enough stimulation. The lights would then eventually become green or amber once more to invite the fitness fanatic back once other machines had determined the muscles were ready for further exercise.

  Stepping forward, he wore the training clothing provided in the barrack room, his original aversion to the unfashionable wear quickly overcome as he realised its benefits. The all in one, snugly fitting padded material was originally viewed as restrictive until Riaz had used the first couple of machines. The rough texture reacted against his taut muscles, soothing strains and even seeming to massage his skin whilst perspiration was immediately absorbed, his fascination growing as skin follicles were stimulated, the sensation sensuously soothing and tantalisingly drifting from warmth to colder temperatures.

  The training shoes seemed simple, but massaged the base of his feet, the reflexology effects revolving and then concentrating on key points, soothing internal organs and ensuring the build-up of lactic muscle acid was minimised. Riaz realised the euphoria that had been gained from strenuous exercise at an earth gym was far exceeded in this large dimly lit room, the chances of injury far reduced, his expectations exceeded beyond belief when he experienced the routines available.

  Stepping up onto the small circular control deck, Riaz placed his feet on the indicated illuminated pads, the console before him immediately lighting up and providing the training options, his eyes sparkling in relish as hands rested on the illuminated sensors at waist height, the machine calculating the optimum exercise pattern compared with how he had previously performed.

  The display pulsed as he drew breath, eyes widening as he glimpsed two Fahimian engineers adjusting one of the laser rifle simulators nearby, his senses rising in expectation as he looked down at the swirling characters, urging a particular outcome. His defined muscles flexed in rising adrenalin as Riaz jerked his head from side to side, stretching…then a smile twitched across his lips, the computer forming the perfect routine, one he enjoyed immensely.

  The routine was punishing, Riaz required to visit every machine, but this would be interspersed with what he wanted most, some of the hardest weapons targeting that he could endure, his talent increasing almost daily. The firing range simulators that would light up between the machines as a reward once he had achieved the exercise goal required were becoming increasingly challenging, the hologram targets becoming further and further away for his improvised laser rifle…a preparation for when they arrived back on earth, determining his proficiency with a weapon would be the best it could be, the new rifle becoming his by choice.

  Little did he know that the individual rankings and machine readings were reviewed and studied daily on the command deck, his rising profile and dedication with a new weapon becoming of interest and fascination to the senior Trevakian officers…an intriguing insight into one of the humans that had now signed up.

  On this evening he would potentially become suspicious that the machines had been deliberately manipulated against him to present immense challenges, unaware that he was being tested along with only four others on the ship. By the end of two exhausting hours, the senior officers would have their statistics…they would know what he was eventually capable of.

  The Upper Space Bar, Galactic Freedom

  Debra Hardie slowly lowered herself into a seat facing the viewing glass, her eyes sparkling with emotion as she stared towards the dark grey hulls ahead, the makeshift fleet racing through space at almost incomprehensible speeds. Distant lights flashed outside, the glow from immense engines ahead as she stared round at the stars and almost engulfing darkness, Tregan lowering into the seat by the side of her and placing two large tumblers onto the polished resin table top, the blue liquid seeming to glow as he grinned, ‘The best Trevakian relaxant on the ship…wine I think you call it on earth. Fermented with your equivalent of grapes and raspberries harvested from two moons…one Herrakian, the other from Narisian.’ Both wore snug navy jump suits, the standard attire of off duty soldiers whilst aboard a fleet vessel. Several others sat across the bar, a group of four marines in a corner booth chatting excitedly, the low bar lights the only illumination to enhance the view out into space.

  Debra grinned fondly, her eyes misting slightly in gratitude, ‘You show me a different drink every night…that is so charming a
nd very gallant, something I have never experienced on earth.’ She shifted in her seat eagerly, tentatively reaching for her glass and raising it to sniff the contents, Tregan smiling as she took a small cautious sip.

  Looking up into his eyes, her own closed slightly, the exquisite aroma and taste surging through her mouth, her eyes widening in enjoyment, lips parting slightly as she swallowed and looked up at the Trevakian fondly, ‘That is amazing…I can feel the alcohol and warmth rising through me…’

  Tregan winked as he chuckled, ‘It is a rare, beautiful drink…very favoured for our ultimate marine celebrations…qualification to a specialist unit or promotion. You cannot consume many…maybe two as they are very strong, but also expensive, so don’t get used to it as a daily drink...’ He leant forward, staring deeply into her eyes, seeming almost apprehensive for the first time as she moved instinctively towards him, his voice lowering nervously, ‘I wanted us to sample them together on the last night before we reached your galaxy.’ He sighed, extending his hand, Debra drawing a sharp breath before clenching it, his voice now almost a whisper, ‘You…and your friends mean so much to me. I wanted to show that there is more to us Trevakians than just war and slaughter...we have customs and a whole civilisation for you to experience, the same as our allies.’ He leant back, still holding her hand tightly, his mind drifting in reflection, ‘There will be challenges ahead and much danger, but we will be together…I will ensure your safety…then we can visit my home planet side by side.’

  Debra’s cheeks were glowing in the low lights, half from the strong alcohol and the rest from emotion as she stared at the Trevakian, her eyes sparkling with fondness as she whispered, ‘You mean a lot to me…I cannot bear the thought of us being apart.’ Both hands tightened round hers further as she continued, ‘Do you think we will ever escape this war? Will it ever end?’

  Tregan shrugged, smiling further in reassurance, ‘I have known nothing else…the same for all our allies…all we ever knew from childhood is this war. Yes, there are some of our elderly that remember when war broke out…when the Morgons appeared at the edge of our planetary systems.’ Tregan swallowed, sitting back in his seat, ‘Apparently they began raids across our furthest outer settlements and mining operations, slaughtering any who resisted or did not flee. Our fleets were not as large then, so we struggled to defend the furthest colonies and planets, several falling before we even got there.’ He sighed, raising his own glass as Debra stared out across the distant stars, ‘Within a year conscription had started apparently, our economy moving towards a military footing and one where it has been ever since. Millions have been killed or displaced and we have lost six or seven outer planets to their forces, the rest in stalemate as the Morgons move on and attack elsewhere.’

  Debra’s eyes strained, sensing his pain as he looked away, her hands squeezing his briefly in reassurance, ‘We have these new guns? We also know more about them than ever before...perhaps that will make a difference?’

  Tregan nodded thoughtfully, his eyes brows rising, ‘We had no idea they had already been on your planet...that they had been watching you...if we had any inclination, I think we would have contacted you sooner. I believe my people will feel some guilt for not coming sooner to your race, for leaving you alone and to your own devices.’

  Debra looked curiously at him, raising her glass once more, ‘Do we have a clearer picture of what is happening on earth?’

  The Trevakian shook his head, ‘Only some rumours...you can’t trust them. Apparently there is some fighting on the surface. I have heard of Morgon vessels in your upper atmosphere, but cannot confirm this...’ He shrugged once more, ‘I believe we will discover the truth later tomorrow.’

  Training Deck, Galactic Freedom

  Drawing a heavy breath, Riaz chuckled with and overwhelming sense of achievement as he dropped onto a padded recovery mat beside the extensive viewing window, realising the exercise suit’s power had been exhausted, his body dripping in sweat as he breathed heavily, his face glistening with perspiration under the low pin lights. Glancing back at the machines, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, considering the resistance levels and challenging simulated firing points had far been beyond what he had previously experienced, the recovery time seeming reduced and timed response to the next machine painfully short. Unable to regain his breath when adopting a firing position, his adrenalin had soared as the targets appeared far more rapidly than normal, his heavy breathing preventing the accuracy he had previously gained pride from.

  Several of his new Trevakian comrades grinned across at the slumped gasping human, Riaz drinking greedily from a chilled black water bottle provided on the low rack before him, his workout having extended far beyond the two hours he had anticipated.

  Several of the exercising figures had studied his agile progress in almost awe, giggling silently at the groans and whines forced through gritted lips as he had realised in horror the extra effort and punishing commitment required. Normally the firing ranges were concealed by a swirling beam for each candidate, but this had not occurred on this occasion and much to his horror as others observed discretely. Several firing points in the flickering, computer generated simulators had even moved suddenly and unexpectantly, his eyes widening in astonishment as a natural competitive spirit consumed his mind and frame. The muscular human figure was then forced to adapt his tactics, pushing cramped and tired muscles forward to remain in cover and prevent enemy return fire, the exercise routine promptly ending if he had been deemed to have been hit.

  Across the fitness deck, a Trevakian corporal hissed breathlessly to the female ensign next to him, both using the same upper muscle building machines nearby, ‘Have you ever seen that programme before?’ The illumination above dimmed in almost sympathy as the exhausted silhouette beneath the window fell backwards, laying prone on the undulating padded relief mat, Riaz’s chest rising and falling dramatically as he struggled to breath.

  The female junior transport pilot shook her glistening face, forcing the shoulder weighted machine upwards with a grunt, her whisper strained, ‘He must be special ops...they get access to additional routines...or so is the rumour. I can’t find them on the control console menu...’ She gasped as the machine indicated the weight should be lowered, shaking her arms as they were released as she glanced across at the gasping Riaz, a cold mist descending towards his heaving frame from above, ‘Having seen that...I don’t want to...it was murder.’

  The corporal nodded, lowering his own upper weight and turning away, his eyes widening as his boots slammed instinctively together, a fist rising to his right chest in recognition, the female ensign stiffening and following his lead as she recognised two of the figures approach, ‘Evening General...Captain Dugachard...’ Her eyes widened, twenty other pairs of boots slamming together across the fitness deck in respect, fists rising to chests as the portly general waved for the personnel to relax, the two Trevakian officers followed by a smaller tanned female in a dark uniform. A lavish scarlet cloak was draped over the Fahimian’s sparklingly lined shoulder plates, silver shin protectors glinting in the overhead lighting as she nodded, attempting to conceal a cunning smile, the shining black helmet bordered with ear protectors.

  Riaz was still breathing heavily, his back being massaged by the undulating rubber padded matt, endorphins surging through his body at unprecedented levels, his mind drifting as he relaxed with eyes firmly closed, the last energy surges from the overwhelmed training uniform attempting to massage his weary arm and leg muscles.

  His thoughts wandered almost fondly back to Zaxon B...of Contax Base and Zangara Outpost, the firefights and snow billowing across his frame as he stood on sentry duty, the upper gantry levels of the fort exposed to the elements. His chest heaved as he considered how almost beautifully barren the landscape had been, the dishevelled village barely lit with torches, the grins of sentries against the bitter cold and the warm meals from mess tins you simply cracked on the ground, the initial flavours of limited choice but
ones the Trevakians had chosen to match human palates, their allies promising more once their ‘guinea pigs’ had voiced their approval.

  Riaz realised it had been at the remote post that his intrigue and motivation had risen to join the Trevakian Marine Corps, the regretful death of some of the villagers and their ultimate love of the pastured animals, the adrenalin fuelled skirmishes with Silakians and his ultimate fear of the Morgon soldier prompting his final decision. Now he knew he had made the right decision, a deep warm sense of belonging and camaraderie spreading through his chest as he considered his friends and new comrades...even his fitness now far surpassed anything his body had previously been capable of on earth...this ship was now his home and his mother would surely be proud once she witnessed him in full dress uniform, her son now a decorated marine.

  His thoughts faltered slightly, a nearby cough confusing him as he then considered his car parked at the airport would now be covered in dirt...something he had always been irritated by, any blemish, even a finger print on the glass seeming irrelevant now...then the cough came a gain, more determined, his eyes flickering open as he realised the sound was above him.

  Taking a second to focus, his body stiffened as he forced himself upwards, captain Dugachard chuckling at his obvious alarm, ‘Stay easy Riaz...you must be exhausted...’

  The soldier before them was spluttering, attempting to turn on the mat, Begum giggling as the general concealed a smile, dark brown wide eyes staring up at them innocently as a weary trooper pushed his tired legs upwards, stiffening to attention, his body temporarily struggling to maintain its balance as he flushed with embarrassment, ‘S-sorry General...Captain...’ He nodded in courtesy and then slight confusion to the smaller Begum, unsure of his rank, a fist rising to his chest instinctively as his head moved sharply to stare ahead, ‘I-I was relaxing...very tired. The exercise routine was...erm, a little punishing.’