by Tom Hart
Tony reached the base perimeter fence half an hour later. The armed sentries who normally occupied the Eastern boundary were no-where to be seen. It was Australia Day and they probably felt shafted for having drawn the short straw for guard duty. Tony would still have a word with them. He didn't begrudge them for taking a break, but they should have ensured the replacement shift was in place before leaving the perimeter unattended. Even if the only thing around were the flies and an occasional rabbit.
As Tony neared the service entrance he noticed an Australian Army lorry come to a stop at the gate. The markings on the truck told Tony it was Sergeant Jake Maloney's outfit returning from a physical training session at the riverbed. Maloney was a hard bugger, it didn't surprise Tony he'd taken the recruits to the river for a Maloney 'special' on a public holiday. Tony remembered them from his days as a recruit. Endless push ups in the mud, carrying forty gallon drums above his head back and forth across the river. If a drum got wet the whole group had to drag logs with chains up the river bank until they could no longer feel their arms. But for all that 'Old Maloney' was still the best instructor in the Regiment. A Vietnam veteran with more medals than a man could count, Maloney's lessons were the only reason Tony was still alive.
The lorry was four hundred metres away when it exploded. Tony dove to the ground, his training taking over. What the hell?
He jumped back to his feet and ran towards the lorry. He had to get them out before the fire took hold. As he ran he tried to make sense of it. SAS Lorries had specially designed fuel tanks. It was near impossible for them to catch fire let alone explode.
Four guards raced out from the small blue building next to the gate. One had a fire extinguisher. The tailgate of the lorry popped open and two recruits rolled onto the ground coughing their guts out. Sergeant Maloney stumbled from the cabin and limped to the tray. He dragged one unconscious recruit clear and went back for another. One recruit was kneeling and screaming at the bloodied stump where his forearm had been only moments before.
Tony noticed the guards were just standing on the spot. They weren't helping at all. What the hell was wrong with them? Tony yelled out but they couldn't hear him. Maloney dragged a second recruit clear while barking at another stunned recruit to apply a tourniquet to the screaming recruit with no arm.
The guards were moving forward. They wore Australian Army uniforms but something wasn't right. The way they walked forward, the way they held their rifles. Something was off. Tony came to an abrupt halt when the guards brought their rifles up and began shooting.
Maloney reacted quickly, crouching and diving under the rear axle. He scrambled underneath the lorry as rounds kicked up stones around his feet then rolled into reeds in the adjacent drainage ditch. The soldiers raced around the lorry and emptied their rifles into the reeds.
As they paused to reload there was a blur of movement to their left. The reeds parted and a muddy apparition appeared holding a 9mm pistol extended in the rapid fire position. Maloney fired and struck the two nearest soldiers between the eyes before diving back into the weeds. The remaining guards scrambled for cover and one hurriedly threw a grenade into the ditch.
There was a dull thump as the grenade detonated harmlessly in the thick mud at the base of the ditch. Before the smoke cleared Maloney appeared again and dropped the remaining guards like dominos.
Tony began jogging towards Maloney yelling loudly as he approached so his friend wouldn’t accidently shoot him. As he neared he noticed Maloney had trained one of the guard’s rifles on him. The rifle dropped an instant later as recognition dawned. ‘Jesus boy, I nearly blew your head off.’
Tony picked up a rifle from a dead guard and moved off the road with Maloney. As they crouched low in the grass Tony tried to work out what the hell was happening.
Maloney said nothing. He just continued to scan the road, rifle at the ready as if expecting a second attack.
Tony frowned. ‘So who the hell are they?’
As an Officer his men would look to him for answers and he had no clue what the hell was going on. Was it a terrorist attack, a simulated exercise he hadn’t been briefed on? Had something gone wrong? The burns on Maloney’s forearms were real.
‘They sure aren't our boys,’ Maloney spat. He seemed remarkably calm for a man who had just survived an ambush, but that was Maloney.
‘Let's check it out,’ Tony said. ‘One of them has a radio.’
‘You better make it quick,’ Maloney said glancing to the East. Tony heard the sound of a helicopter moments later. ‘You got sixty seconds boy.’
The five guards were lying in rough semi-circle. Tony hurriedly checked their pockets. Nothing. They were all Asian, Chinese maybe? Definitely not Japanese or Thai. Early on in his career he’d served on exchange with their militaries.
One of the dead guards had a dragon tattoo with a number six on his neck, partly hidden by his collar. He joined Maloney crouching in the grass alongside the burning lorry. ‘All our boys are dead,’ Maloney said. His voice was calm but Tony could see the anger in his eyes.
‘What do you make of the fellow with the tattoo?’ Tony asked.
Maloney glanced at the body and frowned. ‘Chinese,’ he said firmly. It's a water dragon, the symbol of a Chinese amphibious division, the 6th based out of Fujian Province.
‘You sure?’ Tony asked.
‘Kid, I'm sure. This isn’t my first day on the job.’
Patrick grinned at Maloney. ‘No need to show off.’
Maloney winked at Tony. ‘Time to bug out.’
They took the radio and disappeared into the long grass. Moving slowly along a dry creek bed they took up a position in the gums atop the ridge overlooking the base. They drew further back into the trees when two helicopters landed near the burning lorry to disgorge more Asian soldiers wearing SAS uniforms.
Maloney removed a tiny pair of binoculars from his pocket. Tony raised his eyebrows. ‘I see you were prepared.’
‘Not all of us spend our time at the pub drinking.’
Maloney added a ‘sir’ after a deliberately long pause.
‘So we have been invaded by the Chinese?’ Tony felt ridiculous saying it.
‘Looks that way,’ said Maloney as if he'd been asked about the weather. ‘It's only the beginning though, they won't get away with disguising themselves in Australian uniforms and blowing everything up for long. I imagine those guards were part of the advance force already in country to neutralise our base.’
‘So there is still time to warn headquarters?’
Maloney didn't answer. He was staring at the harbour through his binoculars.
‘You ever seen a cruise liner with a Chinese main battle tank on it?’
Maloney handed Tony the binoculars.
Tony looked at the cruise liner in the centre of the harbour. It had arrived two days ago. The harbour was a regular stop over for cruise liners with the Margaret River wineries proving popular with passengers. A large grey mass was being driven down a steel ramp from the ship to the wharf tourists used to take photos of the Perth sunset. There was no mistaking the T-72 Chinese main battle tank.
‘We're out of time,’ Tony said.
They stayed low as another helicopter flew west along the ridge in a standard search pattern. As they raced across a low hill Tony sent a text message to the members of his unit. It was a cryptic message as the Chinese were certain to have hacked the phone networks. They were to assemble at a pre-designated camping site on the outskirts of Perth within the hour.
When Tony and Maloney reached the campsite his entire unit was waiting. Utes and SUVs were parked in a tight line.
‘What the hell?’ Lieutenant Davis said when he noticed Tony and Maloney walk out of the trees covered in mud and carrying army issue rifles.
‘Davis gather the men, the Chinese have attacked the base.’
Davis stared at Tony wide eyed but then his training took over. ‘Yes sir.’
Tony kept the briefing short. ‘Here
's what we know.’
He explained the attack on Maloney, their escape and the tanks at the wharf.
‘Orders sir,’ Sergeant Riley asked.
Tony smiled. The best part of working in the SAS was the men of the Regiment got on with it, not like the slackers in the regular army. ‘Establish communications with headquarters to get the word out. Then monitor the harbour to get an idea of their numbers. After that we will break in to teams and attack targets of opportunity. If we can find a way to blow up that cruise ship before it unloads its tanks I want to try that too.’
‘What about the 13th mechanised regiment up North?’ Corporal Matthews asked.
‘We will try to get word to them too. If they can get their armoured vehicles down here that would help. We will also try to raise the 4th battalion in the South.’ He was less certain about the 4th being any help. They were a reserve unit and the Chinese could cut them off from their base and weapons with ease. Besides the reservists were all likely to be on leave. Added to that, in Tony’s experience most weekend warrior Army Reservists were more of a hazard to themselves than any enemy.
Tony held out more hope for the Bushmasters of the 13th. They were an active ready regiment rotating into Afghanistan in a fortnight. All leave would have been cancelled and the unit should be in a high state of readiness. With any luck most of the men and vehicles would be conducting live fire drills to improve their operational tempo prior to shipping out. That meant they should be carrying full loads of ammunition and fuel.
The SAS had a number of weapon and food caches hidden around Perth. Very well hidden. They were used for training exercises and were put in place for this very scenario. Tony smiled fondly at the Barret sniper rifle as he removed it delicately from its storage case. Once upon a time, before even Maloney joined the Regiment, an SAS Colonel returning from the pacific war insisted caches of weapons be established to counter the threat of a surprise invasion. That Colonel's foresight provided Tony and his men with the equipment they needed to join the fight. Damned if the Chinese thought they could invade his country on Australia Day. They would get a bloody nose for it.
Twenty-four men stood in a semi-circle as Tony drew a map on the ground with a stick. He added a series of crosses and triangles and assigned areas to his NCOs. They had no luck raising the 13th. The type of interference on the radio told them the Chinese had some powerful jamming equipment somewhere in the city.
Lieutenant Davis and a trooper would travel as fast as they could in Davis' Toyota Hilux to try and alert the 13th. The rest of Tony's men spread out across Perth. The mobile phone network went dead at 4p.m that afternoon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE TITAN
Scarlett sat quietly and alone in the dimly lit Royal library. The building was a shell of its former self, rarely visited by doctoral students from the nearby university. Home to an exotic collection of rare and often boring texts, the tax laws of the Morovian dynasty lined one entire wall, Scarlett liked the feeling of seclusion the dusty enclave provided. A Duchess rarely had a private moment. Everything she did was monitored by retainers most of whom were likely spies for other Royal houses.
The Royal librarian knew she liked to sit in peace so politely arranged for the library staff to participate in a long lunch. The book open in front of her was a copy of the chronicles of the Farlight, a fable based on the first discovery of Triglesium in the Horsehead nebula over three-hundred thousand years ago. It was her favourite book for two reasons. It was the oldest book in the library, and it was written in Latin, the language of the Shadow Weavers. Reading a book written in the language of the sworn enemies of the Royal Houses amounted to heresy but made her feel strangely powerful. Only Scarlett and the chief librarian knew of the book. He kept it hidden away for her in the library vault. The motley brown pages felt delicious to the touch. It was a miracle it had survived the great purge.
Scarlett removed a lead pencil from its velvet lined case. This one belonged to the author of first edition of the Encyclopaedia Galactica and was worth a small fortune. She loved vintage collectibles. Pencils had gone out of fashion fifty thousand years ago and were hard to find even for astute collectors like her. She pressed the lead against the margins of the book and drew a seven pronged star inside a circle. The symbol for Triglesium and the crest of the Royal House of Elara.
What if the Arcanum was still out there? The Farlight Chronicles claimed the presence of Triglesium could be sensed by those without the Prometheus gene. It sang to them like a harp, calling out across space. Scarlett thought it implausible a person could sense a substance detectable only by the most sophisticated technology. It was even stranger given raw Triglesium was deadly to organic material. Besides, the galactic population universally carried the Prometheus gene.
A person would need to be well over one-hundred thousand years old not to possess the gene sequence. Even the oldest monks of the Royal temple were only two thousand years old, and they spent most of their life in stasis chambers which could hardly be described as being alive.
If she could find the Arcanum she could overthrow her father, her brothers and the dreaded Union. She could set the galaxy straight and get things moving in the right direction. Her direction. Only Helena understood, but Scarlett knew she would one day need to dispose of her too.
The hand drawn illustration on the last page of the book was her favourite. A picture of an eagle perched on a branch overlooking a lake. Its rich brown plumage and hazel eyes were mesmerising. Nothing like the ugly greys of the gene spliced hybrids in the palace aviary.
Scarlett had discussed the Arcanum with her cousin Harper before she joined the Proxima Corporation as a logistician under a false name. It had been Harper and her team who discovered the hulk of the Titan warship Achilles, a Mark IV heavy cruiser thought lost in the first civil war deep within the Lorel Sector. Scarlett had managed to keep the discovery under wraps for now.
There wasn't much left of the once proud warship after it collided with a well chartered asteroid. Strangely and despite a crew of twelve-thousand not a single body was found aboard. Even stranger was the fact not a single escape pod had been deployed and the log wiped.
Neither Harper nor Scarlett cared about the cruiser, other than the tiny aluminium tube Harper discovered in the First Officer's cabin and managed to hide in her jacket before the salvage contractors arrived. The tube held a piece of Triglesium the size of a fingernail with the Royal seal of King Helios engraved on its surface. Only Scarlett and Harper knew the Arcanum was more than legend.
Scarlett had not heard from Harper for two weeks but that was not unusual given the vagaries of hyperspace communication. Besides Harper was in deep space, and there for good reason. The missing First Officer of the Titan came from an obscure, low tier aristocratic family. The same family who recently placed an entirely unremarkable and uninhabited system up for auction for no apparent reason. That system had sold for a record price to the Proxima Corporation, run by Viceroy Akemi, Lord Hiro Akemi's father, despite containing absolutely no mineral wealth whatsoever. Then suddenly rumours began to abound about a planet with seven billion humans lacking the Prometheus gene. Scarlett didn't believe in co-incidence, and with her father pre-occupied with the border wars against the Kareshi, she would get to the bottom of it herself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CASINO
Sarah Winters was at work. It was a public holiday but she knew she was a workaholic. The truth was she enjoyed her job and liked to be organised. With no one else in the office she could catch up on her paperwork.
Office was not the right word for her workplace. Her building was more of a warehouse. The Australian Secret Intelligence Organisation, or ASIO as it was better known, did not work out of your conventional inner city high-rise. The warehouse on the outskirts of Perth allowed for discreet comings and goings and plenty of storage for the enormous stock of surveillance equipment agents like Sarah used every day. Sarah was normally based in Sydney but
she and a small team were in Perth for the Casino's high flier poker tournament. Hundreds of Chinese businessmen flew into Perth by private charter each year to attend. It was a great opportunity for ASIO to make contacts and run surveillance on marks suspected of being Chinese intelligence agents.
Sarah had been attached to the counter-espionage division for the past four years. She was good at her job and had been promoted relatively quickly for her age. Normally she spent her time running surveillance teams against suspected Russian agents. But China was the new flavour of the month at ASIO so she was sent to Perth.
Sarah didn't drink coffee but she did enjoy her diet cokes. She threw another empty can into the waste bin. Her friends in the service could not believe she was capable of maintaining such a stunning figure given the amount of junk food she consumed. Everyone knew surveillance operatives often had little choice but to eat takeaway on long stake outs but Sarah actually loved junk food. At 5 foot 4 inches, slim, with long blonde hair and light blue eyes her boss routinely encouraged her to transfer to foreign intelligence. But she wasn't interested in overseas work or seducing overweight diplomats. Her Bondi apartment was across the road from the beach. She could go surfing every morning and have breakfast with friends on the weekend.
Sarah looked up from the document she was reading as her computer beeped loudly. New message. That was strange. Flash traffic on a public holiday? She clicked the small flashing icon and a window popped up asking her for a three factor code. Wow, that was weird. She had only ever received two other three factor messages in her entire career and they had been about imminent terrorist attacks. It must be serious. She entered the codes and a short message appeared. She stared at it for a full minute then read it two more times to be sure. ‘ASIO headquarters compromised, Chinese invasion underway, Prime Minister captured. Adopt Protocol 9.’