Alliance (Terran Chronicles Book 4)

by James Jackson

  The stations speakers come to life unexpectedly, “I am Regent Hemlax of the Gamin, and have been sent to assist in your rescue.”

  Gustav enters the command module just in time to hear his second in command respond, “Rescue! Ah, from what?”

  “The Atlans are coming. You will evacuate your facility, and tell me where my ships are to land.”

  Gustav stares out at the dozens of large spacecraft which orbit Earth. Every few seconds, another arrives. He stares at his command crew for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulders, he replies with disbelief, “Any of the major cities.”

  The alien voice sounds out once more, “Human, inform your people they must evacuate, and quickly.”

  Gustav closes his eyes to the surreal feelings that threaten to overcome him. He apprehensively contacts the European Space Agency. The discussion is brief, too brief. He slumps into his chair, and then with shaking hands, tells his crew, “They don’t believe me. They think this is some sort of trick.”

  Thirty-seven spacecraft are now either in Earth’s orbit, or landing. Gustav contacts Hemlax and says, “My superiors don’t believe you. They want to speak with Regent Voknor.”

  A few moments pass before Hemlax replies. “I have requested that Regent Voknor send a message. Now, you must evacuate your facility, or you will all perish.”

  Gustav gazes around, then orders, “Everyone to the shuttles.”

  As his crew leaves the command center, a blinding light catches Gustav’s attention once more. It is quickly followed by more flashes as another fleet of Gamin ships arrive. Going against his standing orders, he contacts the Kremlin, the White House, and then the Australian construction dock. He leaves a simple message each time, in the hopes that it is forwarded on. He knows that if the Gamin are telling the truth, he has little time to debate with everyone. They will either believe him, or not.

  Gustav is the last person to leave the station. As the shuttle approaches Hemlax’s flagship another solitary spacecraft arrives.

  Location:

  White House

  Washington DC

  Vice President Anthony Macintyre stares at his phone with skepticism. He puts it down, then makes arrangements for his advisors to assemble. He wastes more valuable time discussing the arriving fleet, and the likelihood that their warning is credible. Thirty minutes after the phone call from the European Space Agency, he contacts the President and relays his thoughts.

  “You fool!” The President replies angrily.

  “You’re on vacation. I am simply following protocol.” Anthony replies bluntly.

  The President shouts loudly, “Order the evacuations! Tell the people to board the Gamin ships.”

  An aide rushes up to the Vice President and whispers in his ear. The words chill Anthony to the bone. He shakes as he says, “It’s too late! We’re under attack!”

  The President never hears the words, global communications have been jammed. Every phone and computer network around the world is virtually useless.

  Location:

  Outback

  Western Australia

  BOOM

  The massive blast wakes General Hayes instantly. Fearing a terrorist attack, he quickly dresses and rushes outside. He stumbles to a stop as he tries to fathom what is happening. Large caliber machine guns from all areas of the base begin firing upward into the night sky. The noise from them alone is deafening. Nearby, a fire rages out of control. A jeep accelerates away from the Gamin construction dock. The ground behind it is being torn up by bolts of lightning which rain down from the star-filled skies.

  Something flies over the base so fast that the ground shakes in its passing. People are thrown to the ground by the force of the sonic boom which accompanies the flying object. Flood lights are turned on, and then aimed upward, only to be destroyed my more lightning bolts.

  A soldier runs up to Hayes, and even though he is terrified, salutes, before he states the obvious, “We’re under attack.”

  The General sighs, then while looking upward says, “So the Gamin decided to take out the construction dock after all.”

  The soldier frowns and states, “The Gamin? I heard the Space Station sent a message about the Gamin evacuating people. We don’t know who the attackers are.”

  Hayes lowers his gaze and looks at the soldier. With mounting concern he asks, “If they’re not the Gamin, then who?”

  A nearby building explodes spectacularly, causing both men to dive to the ground for cover. The rattle of machine gun fire diminishes as each sentry post is destroyed. The only sound that remains is that which comes from the direction of the construction dock. Brief flashes of light accompany the sounds.

  Thunk… Thunk… Thunk…

  General Hayes stands, brushes himself down, and tries to determine what is happening. Why the duty watch commander did not wake him, is a mystery that he does not have time for right now. A solitary search light still works, and even more miraculous is that the person operating it is able to swing the beam toward the colony ship that is under construction. Dozens of alien craft are hovering around the dock, firing energy weapons at the partially built ship.

  Inexplicably, the attacking craft quit firing, then fly away so fast it is as though they vanish into thin air. Fires are everywhere, along with the moans of the injured. Hayes is filled with rage over the damage and carnage caused by the unknown assailants. He turns his gaze upward and angrily shakes his fist at the night sky.

  The weapon that strikes the ground is thousands of times more powerful than any atomic bomb ever assembled on Earth. The impact is so powerful that Hayes, along with everyone else, is instantly vaporized. The detonation turns every building into dust, and even shatters the construction dock. A crater, the likes of which has not been seen for hundreds of thousands of years, forms in seconds. Everything that survived the blast, and there is scant little that does, plummets into the crater’s unimaginable depths. An immense dust cloud rises up from the desert and blots out the stars. Not that there is anyone left alive at the epicenter to witness the event.

  Facilities in Perth register the impact as a magnitude 10.9 earthquake. Ordinarily such an event would galvanize the monitoring teams into action, but not this day. Before the team leader is able to call a general meeting, an event of similar magnitude is registered in China, followed moments later by another in Russia.

  Location:

  Kangbashi District

  China

  Wu is lying in bed, enjoying one of the many luxuries of his position, when an alarm sounds. He lays there for a moment, waiting pensively. When his phone does not ring, he shoves a young woman out of his way, and gets out of bed. He grabs a large robe, drapes it over his shoulders, and strides purposefully to his balcony. Before him is the vast nighttime cityscape that houses the people working on China’s newest spacecraft. His eyes rove the dark shadows in annoyance. A bolt of lightning catches his attention. He turns to look at the source. The sight frightens him so much his knees weaken. He grabs the handrail to prevent himself from falling, and stares numbly at the sight.

  A dozen shielded tanks have formed a defensive circle, and are steadily firing their lasers upward. Powerful searchlights reveal small alien spacecraft hovering in the air above the tanks. The small craft dart left and right as they avoid the tanks’ weapons fire, while at the same time, discharging bolts of energy downward. Each bolt looks like lightning.

  Amazingly, the tanks shrug off the attacks as easily as do the flying craft. As unexpectedly as the craft arrived, they depart skyward. Wu follows their departure upward and notices a pin prick of light, one that is getting brighter by the second. He shields his eyes as the blinding light strikes the courtyard.

  BOOM

  The blast is as powerful as the one which struck the Australian dock, and is equally effective. Seconds later, all that remains of the entire city is a dust-filled gaping hole in the ground. Wu’s tattered robe swirls on the air currents, all that remains of the man, and his plans t
o rule an empire.

  Location:

  Manhattan Island

  New York

  Detectives Edwards and Jones are sitting in their squad car, stuck in traffic, listening to music. The midday sun is warm, but not too unpleasant. Edwards puts the unmarked squad car in park, and waits. They are looking forward to a quiet afternoon, when their radio unexpectedly quits. Both men stare at the silent radio, before either of them can say anything, the sound of drum beats suddenly emanate from it. They can hear the sound coming from every vehicle near them.

  Jones gulps, then points ahead to an electronic advertising banner. The hair raises up on his neck, as he whispers in fear, “Look! It’s that alien. Their back!”

  Edwards frowns at the visage of a Gamin on the screen. His jaw drops in disbelief. Every screen he can see, now displays the same image, all the while, the steady sound of drums beating emanates all around.

  The alien’s image speaks, “A powerful enemy approaches your world. Retreat to safety.” The message repeats itself over and over.

  The Detectives stare at the instant mayhem outside their car. People are abandoning their vehicles and running. The sounds of horns honking, engines revving, tires screeching, and metal tearing reaches their ears.

  Jones shakes his head and says, “Look at the fools. They have no idea where they’re going.”

  Edwards sighs, “The last time this happened, we were filling out paperwork on fender benders for a month.”

  The drum beats abruptly stop. Edwards lifts his gaze, then freezes at the sight. He feels a chill building, and is unable to speak, so he simply grabs Jones’ arm and points. Every screen in sight is filled with static.

  Jones watches as a group of teenagers run across an intersection and then rush down a subway entrance. He glances at Edwards and says, “You know. That may not be a bad idea.”

  Edwards is leaning forward, over his steering wheel, to get a better view. He suddenly sits back, wishing he hadn’t. Fear grips his chest as he silently points ahead. A small stubby looking craft is darting between the city’s skyscrapers, firing an energy weapon as it goes. Each shot has a devastating effect on its target, causing great chunks of concrete and glass to fall to the pavement below. Hapless pedestrians do their best to dodge the raining debris, many gruesomely fail.

  The two men sit in their seats, too stunned by what they are witnessing to move. Another stubby craft appears, then another. Each one flies through the city, strafing buildings, and roadways, as they go. A massive section of an office building unexpectedly collapses onto the street directly in front of them. Dust and debris splatter against their car’s windshield, causing both men to flinch. The entire top section of another building leans precariously over, then begins to fall in slow motion into the building next to it.

  Jones turns to Edwards, and with mounting panic, says, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

  Edwards quickly replies, “For sure! I’m grabbing the rifles from the trunk.”

  Opening the car doors allows the full sound of the alien attack to assault their ears. Screams, gunshots, engines revving, and the dull thud of impacts as buildings collapse comes from all directions. The two detectives hurriedly grab their rifles, and then fill their pockets with ammunition. Meanwhile, overhead dozens of spacecraft continue to strafe the city of New York. Almost as an afterthought, the pair grabs flashlights.

  The two men run for the subway entrance. Scores of people are running the same way as they too, seek shelter. Reaching the intersection, both men stop at the sight of the devastation before them. Dozens of buildings have collapsed, affording them a view of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. It still leans a few degrees from the Gamin attack of many years ago. But this alone is not what stops them. Three spacecraft are hovering around America’s iconic symbol, and shooting at it. The attackers are blasting the iron statue apart. While the pair watches, the statue’s arm breaks free, and falls to the ground. Its head falls next, followed by huge section of its chest.

  Edwards’ arms fall slack to his sides. His voice falters as he says, “They’re playing with us.”

  Jones fights back tears of frustration and anger. With a quivering voice he says, “We need to get underground. NOW!”

  Edwards gazes upward, oblivious to an expanding cloud of dust that approaches from a newly destroyed building. He makes an almost silent plea, “Do you think someone will come and save us?”

  Jones notices something unusual in the distance, and frowns. He points to a greenish cloud that is expanding out from the harbor. With mounting fear, he says, “I don’t know what that is, but it can’t be good. We need to hustle.”

  The two men run toward the subway entrance, then rush down into the bedlam below. Thousands of panic stricken people crowd the platforms. Someone screams shrilly as they fall onto the tracks. A few lean over to help, just as the hapless victim touches the electrified third rail. Dozens are electrocuted, adding to the chaos. The detectives appraise the scene in seconds, then glance at each other.

  Edwards shouts over the din, “We need to get to the lower levels.”

  Nodding in agreement, Jones cautiously begins to lead the way to the closest train tunnel. The pair stays as far from the edge of the platform as they can, but the sheer weight of the crowd keeps pushing them closer and closer. Both men stop when the sound of an approaching train reaches their ears. They dive away from the platforms edge just as the train’s emergency brakes engage. The driver’s efforts are in vain. The train plows through dozens upon dozens of people before coming to a halt. The driver stares in shock at his blood splattered window. He is still oblivious to the attack that rages on overhead.

  The Detectives squeeze past the train, then run down the tracks, carefully avoiding the electric rail. They soon find what they are looking for, an old service door. Edwards glances back, nods, then says, “What do we do about them?”

  Jones looks back and stares at the steady stream of people following them. “Let ‘em come.” He replies.

  Edwards nods, then stares in frustration at the lock on the door. He takes out his pistol and shoots it. The sound of his gun firing reverberates loudly in the confines of the tunnel, causing those who are following them, to stop.

  The two men force the stubborn door open. Its rusty hinges squeal in protest, sounding like finger nails scraping on a chalkboard. The men enter the stairwell just as the power goes out, plunging them into darkness. Inside the service stairwell, emergency lights flicker, then also fail. The men turn on their flashlights as they hurry downward. Behind them people scream in terror, then in their panic, they run toward the faint light emanating from the stairwell.

  Jones glances upward at the sound of footfalls on the metallic stairs, then he frowns. He shines his light up the center of the stairwell to get a better view. A chill runs up his spine at the sight of a faint green mist flowing through the doorway. He nervously says, “We’d better hurry.”

  Edwards glances upward. They both see a woman fall to the ground, she is choking on something. Her cough sounds wet, and is quickly followed by deep gurgling sounds as she tries to scream through ruined vocal cords. The chilling sounds encourage the detectives to rush even faster downwards. The pair are closely followed by others who have so far escaped the deadly gas. The sounds of people choking and dying fills those running with adrenaline.

  Jones keeps casting his light behind them, and is alarmed to see the greenish cloud is only two levels above them. It is drifting down the central shaft faster than they can run. A young man rushes past the detectives, and arrives at the base of the stairwell first. A solid metal door confronts them all. It is not locked, but has been sealed shut for so long that moss has grown around its edges. The young man stares at it in total panic. No amount of shoving will open it. He grabs at his hair, and shouts incoherently.

  A heavyset man, his chest heaving from his exertions, charges forward. The young man quickly grabs the door handle and holds it down, hopefully in the
open position. The big man collides with the door, and to everyone’s surprise, it swings open with a loud clang. With no time to spare, they all rush in, and then slam the old door shut.

  Jones hurriedly casts the beam from his flashlight around the moss covered frame, and smiles. He turns to the group of frightened people and states with relief, “I think we’re safe now.”

  Edwards glances at Jones, then turns his attention to the door. He points his own flashlight at the narrow moss filled gaps, and waits. One minute becomes two, and still there is no sign of the poisonous gas. His wide grin freezes on his face when he sees the moss that lines the bottom of the door, turning grey. With apprehension, he states, “Ah… I think it’s coming through.”

  Everyone backs away from the door as faint wisps of green gas puff through miniscule gaps. Jones frantically searches the room. Rusting pipes and massive cisterns, indicate that this was once a boiler room. He shines his flashlight around, then quickly swings the beam back when he realizes he has almost missed another old door.

  Jones shouts out, “Over there!”

  The heavy man forces this door open as well, revealing a long passageway. It runs straight for as far as their lights shine. The group rushes through, and then shut the door behind them. The exertions have taken their toll on the big man. He sits down with his back to the closed door.

  Thirty-four people run for their lives down a corridor to nowhere. Where it leads is a mystery to all until the light from the pair of flashlights reveals an unexpected surprise. The group stops running and stares in disbelief at the abandoned train station. The platform extends left and right for as far as they can see in the dim light.

  A gurgling sound reaches their ears. It comes from behind them. The heavyset man closes his eyes as he dies, his ruined lungs drowning him where he sits.