Steel plated boots cracked together, the Fahimian commandoes raising their new glossed black laser rifles vertically before them, Captain Dugachard grinning widely as she barked, ‘Company to Attention!’
Trevakian boots slammed together inside the drop ship, Begum giggling as the Trevakian and human soldiers stiffened in unison, the modified laser rifles rising to their shoulders. The Fahimian stepped forward, clapping with excitement and nodding his approval, beckoning the visitors forward, captain Dugachard chuckling, ‘Stand easy and make your way outside…they are our friends.’
The Freedom battalion marines of Zulu company moved forward, their visors gradually retracting upwards into the helmet rims as they stepped into the overhead lights, many glancing to the sides cautiously, their faces reflecting in the shining face plates of the Fahimian commandoes, Begum opening his small arms in welcome, a wide grin on his tanned face, ‘Come forward…we have some thingies to show you!’ His eyes strained, a hand rising to tap the earpiece and remote throat microphone, head turning to the dignitaries behind to frown, an aide stepping forward with head bowed, a small crystal edged box extended with the lid open as Begum pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, ‘Batteries rubblied!’
Captain Dugachard concealed a grin as she stepped from the back of the transport, Begum meticulously inserting another translator into his right ear, the embarrassed aide stepping back as the small Fahimian turned back to face the assembled soldiers, smiling widely as he glimpsed captain Dugachard moving between her marines, ‘Come forward my friend…we show you Fahimian weapons.’
He indicated towards the glimmering green atmospheric shield, ‘You all stand back…we bring stuff…’ His eyes strained again, ‘Dalika! Translator bogalash!’ He chuckled as the Trevakian captain giggled, tapping the small device once more, ‘We make many…best are with commandeos…I await newy devicey!’
The small figure spun round, sweeping the cloak back over his shoulder in obvious irritation as the aide selected another earpiece, shaking it vigorously. Captain Dugachard indicated for the soldiers to progress towards the shield, then gestured to the assembled groups outside the other transports on either side to do the same.
As the three hundred marines moved towards the shimmering green shield, grey dressed Fahimian loaders ran forward from doors on either side and into the drop ships, jumping onto seats to reach up and remove the silver boxes from overhead racks.
Riaz glanced across at the captain, catching her eye, his head nodding towards the open rear doors as she smiled, indicating for him to proceed, the asian soldier’s voice rising, ‘My section advance…assist with the off-loading!’
Shino’s eyes widened with Debra’s as Riaz lunged forward, six other Trevakians joining him as he marched back into the rear compartment, reaching up for the first silver energy canister and heaving it down, handing it to the soldier behind, the marines rapidly forming a line as the supplies were passed between each individual. Debra nudged Shino, the two stepping forward to join the efficient operation as the boxes were passed along, additional grinning Fahimian loaders indicating for them to stack the supplies at the back of the bay.
Begum clapped his hands again, giggling as the other dignitaries looked on in surprise, the transports rapidly emptied as the pilots and co-pilots clambered from their cockpits to assist. Finally withdrawing, the Freedom battalion stood in groups, Begum indicating for the flyers to join their marines for the arranged spectacle.
Finally satisfied, the Fahimian emissary tapped the side of his helmet, passing a message to the crews in the corridor behind the bay, the doors opening once more as he raised his voice, ‘We now fight together…’ His eyes widened in happiness as the translation device seemed to work effectively, an obvious confidence rising, ‘As we go to war we want to show you what our soldiers will have with them.’ He glanced across the expectant faces, smiling reassuringly as two black uniformed commandoes stepped nervously through the widening doors, ‘We call these our flyers…they support locally on battlefield…’
The marines stared at the two figures, the commando helmets turning to each other, the silver and black armour sparkling in the light as they reached to their waists. Slim control panels extended mechanically from side leg armour before rising to waist height, their small gloved hands seeming to remain above the pads as they clenched their fists. A surge of power as downward jets of air from behind the figures swept across the shining floor, the two armoured figures slowly rising as gasps filled the landing bay, the soldiers grinning as the figures rose further. The control panels moved around their waists as the two commandoes withdrew laser rifles from their backs, kicking their legs to move forward and then backwards, their upper frames moving from side to side as the jetpacks responded, several of the marines clearly excited as they pointed upwards, the figures beginning to move faster across the upper space of the landing bay.
Begum raised his voice once more, ‘They can move quickly…on the ground and in the air…these are our combat engineers and the equipment is very light. They will fight alongside you in the coming battle…’ He nodded towards a grinning captain Dugachard, ‘Next!’
Most eyes moved back to the open doors, a low mechanical clanking coming from the corridor outside as eyes widened once more, Begum continuing, ‘Combat engineers…come with you too!’
The larger figure emerged, several gasps as the raised armoured Fahimian stepped mechanically into the light, an outer exoskeleton high powered frame covering the engineer’s lower legs and chest, two gatling guns mounted on the outer frame at waist height, the machine turning to move to the side, the rear of the machine more robust and bulging backwards. Begum shouted over the clanks as the steel robotic boots clanked across the bay, ‘Experimental…we tried mounting grenade launcher on upper frame, but not this model. We could not use laser guns as the rate of fire was reduced and the commando was unable to reload effectively…this we use as a defensive piece or infantry support…it can project a small forward shield and carry heavier equipment on the rear frame.’
The small Fahimian stepped forward, moving in front of the marines, ‘We have other war devices, but those that you have seen will land with you…the others we will bring later…some our commandoes have.’ He clapped his hands, nodding to captain Dugachard as his expression became more solemn, ‘Now we have an energy meal for you as we load our transports…you will travel one platoon in each vessel with one platoon of our own commandoes.’ The Fahimian emissary swallowed, ‘The battle is close…and we will be victorious together…’ His small brown eyes seemed to glisten emotionally beneath the shadowing helmet rim, ‘It is our honour to fight with you all…with our new friends and allies.’
Chapter Twenty Five: A self-made Armageddon?
One Hour Earlier
The loudspeakers beneath Saratov beeped in alarm, the numerous engineers, special operation soldiers and staff glancing upwards in expectation of the incoming message, Dimitri leaning back in his higher level chair as the control room lights below dimmed, a hushed silence falling across the computer keyboard operators as they stared at the screen that filled the wall before them. The lead operator grimaced, glimpsing the Russian numerals count down to the announcement, all personnel ordered to be ready for the information from central command at the top of the hour.
The six pictures on the screen were their only view of outside, the updates forming a grim picture. Forest and building fires burnt out of control further west, the road to what may be left of Moscow ripped from the landscape, scattered with the remains of numerous shattered vehicles and lorries. Local television cable news crew pictures also showed the plight of the Russian people, dark billowing clouds of soot and debris hanging ominously above the city, black plumes of smoke rising all across the horizon to the west. The red update line moving along the bottom of one of the screens reported numerous helicopter and aircraft crashes, including a fleets of numerous military transport flights, the heavy casualties of soldiers transferring towar
ds Voronezh and then onto the border with the Ukraine.
Breaking news stories from the local area showed graphic pictures from the large city hospitals, of corridors full of bed ridden and seated patients, many heavily bandaged with scarlet and bloodied burnt skin, numerous people with thick bandages over their eyes, the news reporter advising many would never regain full sight after witnessing the bright energy blasts sweep low across the sky over Saratov.
The newsreader reported that communications across Russia were now extremely difficult if not impossible and that all residents were advised to remain indoors and avoid any travel. Then the operators stiffened, new network footage emerging onto the screen, the horizon a burning scarlet red with a wind buffeted reporter standing before a burning forest, her face flushed from the heat as she shouted into the camera.
Dimitri leant forward, indicating to one of the female operators, his voice rising above the frantic whispers, ‘Increase the volume…I want all to hear!’
The operator nodded, clicking on the keyboard below her, the reporter’s breathless Russian voice just becoming audible, ‘With firestorms burning out of control on the main road to Moscow, the army is evacuating livestock and survivors from along the route of the blast wave…’ The reporter braced herself as embers and acrid smoke billowed around her, the wind picking up as flaming branches crackled and spat in the forest behind, her blood shot eyes straining, ‘The authorities have told us that we are unable to continue along the motorway towards the capital and most of the surrounding towns and villages are now deserted. The roads have been closed and all train services suspended.’ Helicopters droned overhead, the rotor blades drowning out the reporter as the camera swung upwards, the military transport vessels progressing westwards in a large group, the sky above a dark swirling grey and black.
The camera moved back to the glowing horizon, the reporter struggling to stand as ferocious ember filled swirling winds tugged at her jacket, her voice rising against the roar behind, ‘Rumours are spreading of massive explosions and eruptions…that Moscow was the target and that most of the city has been destroyed…’ She swallowed hard, coughing in the smoke as sirens wailed in the distance, several soldiers running past behind, ‘The few residents that have been evacuated have been prevented from talking to us, but we saw burnt and bandaged people, one shouting in tears that there were many dead…that his animals had all been left to fend for themselves. A government spokesman later told us the farmer was in shock and that soldiers were now herding his cattle and sheep along the road behind him. The Saratov official stated that collection points were being arranged for all evacuated citizens and that they would be free to return to their homes and villages once the fires were put out.’
Dimitri shook his head, knowing full well it would be a long time before anyone returned…or would even want to after they discovered the probable toxic pollution in the air. His eyes glancing upwards as the speakers beeped once more, realising there was now less than one minute to go, his thoughts considering the sights all across eastern Russia and some of the forward mobile sites.
Loud claxons were resounding across the countryside, nearby residents running to their houses in alarm as startled animals bayed and ran from the noises, the local dogs barking furiously as the vibrations irritated their ears. In discreet forest clearings and in the Ural Mountain snow ranges, the noise seemed to pulse through the trees, becoming louder as the whirring of motors preceded reinforced steel ground hatches rising, steam and smoke billowing upwards from the openings as birds screeched and took flight in alarm.
Snow and brush debris fell from the risen thick steel cupolas, the camouflage netting in the surrounding trees stirring and flickering in the disturbed cold as engineers and electricians completed their final outer checks before withdrawing. In the forward areas nearer the Ukrainian and Belarus borders, large cumbersome trucks had been concealed in dense woodland for a couple of days, their crews pulling netting and selected foliage from their vehicles, the technicians and commanders retreating into the more distant command tents with remote wire operated military laptops.
Dimitri glanced at the clock before him on the laptop screen, the seconds ticking away as he drew a nervous breath, the control room falling into an ominous silence as the operators sat back in their chairs, several senior officers emerging from side rooms as they realised the time was near for an announcement.
The more senior commanders gathered in the Volgograd bunker to the south with the newly established covert cabled network crisscrossing Russia to bypass Moscow from Voronezh in the west to Murmansk in the north and Vladivostok to the far south east, including most of the remote missile and military stations in the north east and Siberia. Vladivostok was now home to the main communication network with China and North Korea, providing the Russians with up to date information from fighting on the peninsula and in the countries south of the Chinese mainland. After several hastily convened cabled video conferences, both superpowers were now of mutual opinion…there was limited time left to act.
Dimitri shook his head, glancing down at the numerous printed communiques from across the city and further afield from local towns, his role now reduced further as more senior officers had arrived at the bunker. A wry smile formed across his lips as he recalled their immediate insistence that he remained the main representative for conference calls with the western leaders, sustaining a superior rank in name only to present control and uniformity, but also appealing considerably to the dark Russian sense of humour.
The loud electronic beep sounded once more, this time beginning to count down the last fifteen seconds, alerting the security cleared staff to the limited time available to locate one of the covert speakers to listen to. All knew the instructions to listen in a sound proofed room, but had rarely experienced the actual process until recently, this being the fourth secure briefing in the last seven days, but the only one that had not been sourced from the Kremlin in Moscow.
The final beeped seconds ticked away as Dimitri settled in his chair, wiping his eyes as he leant sideways to reach for a bottle in the foot well beneath, his eyes scrutinising the clear liquid as he unscrewed the cap, the clink of glass against glass alerting the controllers below as he filled his tumbler. Lifting the glass up to the light as if in a toast, he stared through the strong vodka before sipping from it, his eyes straining in relish as he swilled the coarse liquid across his tongue, then swigging from it as the beeping stopped, the senior Intelligence commander in Volgograd going live across the nation’s secret bunker network.
The older voice spoke softly, almost reassuringly solemn, ‘People of the Russian Federation, it is with great regret that I announce the destruction of our historical capital. This aggressive and evil enemy has brought ultimate destruction to our nation and killed millions of innocent people…something that many of you will realise has occurred before in our history.’ The senior official drew breath, ‘We face a determined and vicious enemy…one that is resolved to not only destroy us, but also our allies and the people of the west. The United States of America has also suffered extensive casualties, with widespread destruction almost paralleled with our own…the cities of Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego apparently completely destroyed.’
There was a short silence, the voice rising in intensity, ‘We of the Russian Federation will not tolerate such naked aggression and have therefore decided to act with our neighbours, the People’s Republic of China, before it may become too late.’ The man drew a deep breath once more, ‘Within the next few minutes both our great countries will launch missiles at one of the orbiting ships as it emerges above. The assault will be timed precisely to impact on the enemy vessel as it passes overhead and the explosions will be outside the earth’s atmosphere, so there will be little risk to the population below.’ The tone seemed to mellow slightly, ‘You may speak to your local commanders if you have any concerns…the attack will commence in the next few minutes.’
A loud beep ended the m
essage, Dimitri draining his glass and slumping backwards, listening to the hushed whispers of alarm coming from below his officer’s viewing box, shrugging as he raised the bottle once more, vodka splashing into the tumbler and across his fingers.
The claxon alarms sounded louder across remote areas of Russian territory, underground silos in the northern Chinese states also opening as ringing alarms resounded across the landscape. The large remote launching lorries in western Russia now fully supported next to their wide tyres by sturdy side mounts, single and twin rocket racks slowly rising skywards as the crews tapped furiously on their laptops. Most engineers were fully aware of the jamming and the need to ensure the missiles were able to continue at high altitude without additional remote guidance.
Jet engines roared into life, smoke and fumes billowing from the open top silos as the seconds ticked away, the timers eventually reaching zero as the backdraft increased, intense thrust surging from the base of the rockets as they slowly rose, gathering velocity before emerging from underground in a billowing grey shroud. Clearing the silos, the missiles tore upwards and into the darkened sky, flames and smoke trails lining the wakes as the rockets soared into the heavens.
Startled people in an increasing radius stared upwards aghast, realising the implications of what they could see, the sheer horror of what had occurred…some uneven able to process what they had witnessed as they slipped into deep shock.
The missile lights soared skywards, the numerous trails seeming to fill the sky in either direction as many witnesses simply wept openly or sought comfort from friends, partners and family. Terrified whimpers, shrieks of dread and fear filled remote farmhouses, village streets and houses as more and more civilians looked upwards, their eyes straining in disbelief as many people already pushed to the edge of belief simply opened spirit bottles or rolled joints in sheer incredulous despondency.
Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught Page 28
