He turned back to his marines, indicating to a sergeant on the left end, ‘Open the doors!’ The marines turned in unison, their boots squealing on the polished floor. Before them, the wide doors clunked, then began to slowly slide open, intensely bright lights cascading through the opening. The visors of over two hundred soldiers automatically snapped forward as the helmets sensed the dramatic change in atmospheric lighting, the uniforms and armour also adapting and transforming to lighter colours. The visitors’ visors shot down as an emergency reaction, the security officers jumping in surprise.
The doors slowly slid back, the room filling with intensely bright flashing light, the visors immediately shading to black to protect the eyes of the marines. The captain stepped back nodding to his sergeant, raising his voice above the loud mechanical humming from the next room, ‘Marines, Forward!’
The wall of soldiers lunged forward in a military jog, almost completely in unison, moving through the wide doorway and into the light. The small on-looking group strained their eyes, their hands raised over the visors in futile attempts to see into the room through the flashing lights.
David Bland swore under his breath quietly, his nervousness rising, ‘They always said…don’t walk towards or into the light!’
Dryden turned to them, the lower half of his face beneath his visor twisted in concern, ‘Follow me and stay close at all times.’ He slowly walked forward, the five personnel of the new Echo Squad following him nervously. As the body of marines disappeared through the doors, they approached the opening, stepping gingerly into the brightly lit room.
Riaz glanced around, the visor now allowing his eyes to see in the light. Before him, the lights seemed to be emanating from a pin sized source about shoulder height in a wide circular tunnel, the insides of the smooth vessel like cylinder seeming to be spinning at immense speed. A wide shining metal walkway extended into the circular tunnel towards the pulsating and flashing light bordered by handrails, the air inside the tunnel seeming to spin into a vortex, the light at its source.
The last of the marine shadows disappeared into the lights as the group watched mesmerised. Riaz squinted to the side to look along the length of the construction in the rectangular grey room, seeing the tunnel extended to the wall at the far end, some fifty metres away. Along the side of the construction were many computerised panels, the lights flashing as a helmeted engineer in a blue uniform inspected them closely, raising his hand in greeting as he saw Riaz observe him, presuming he was just an inquisitive marine.
David Bland turned in amazement to Dryden, ‘Where are the wounded?’
Dryden gradually raised his hand, pointing at the light, ‘They are on Alexion One. We just walk into the light.’ He stepped forward, his boots mounting the slope leading up onto the walkway. Behind him, Riaz moved forward boldly, his teeth gritted beneath his lips as he pushed his reluctant and nervously tensed body up the ramp.
The group slowly and cautiously walked up the ramp, feeling the turbulent air envelope their faces as they entered the beginning of the tunnel. The spinning walls and intensely flashing lights seemed to embrace them individually, their terrified emotions stirring to fever pitch as they stepped forward slowly, their adrenalin seeming to cascade through them as they approached the light. Each person struggled with their fear as they followed Dryden and Riaz anxiously into the tunnel, the light seeming to surge even through them at times. Their mouths dry and hearts pulsing faster, they stepped again towards the light, the air surging around them and tugging at their uniforms. Their consciousness state seemed to be filled with the spectrum of lights, the thoughts slowing and seeming hypnotic as the air and light washed over them seeming to enter their very souls as they approached the source.
Debra Hardie breathed deeply, trying to steady her nerves and rising fear as she took one more step, closing her eyes as she felt her senses swim, the spectacular light seeming warm in the vortex of air. The darkness filled her vision, a deep and exhilarating darkness that seemed to suck the breath from her body. Struggling to breath, she felt panic rising within her, a warm panic as her blood temperature rose and pulsed faster round her body causing a rush of adrenalin. Raw emotions spilled through her mind, flashed images from her childhood and early teens filling her vision and consciousness. The warmth seemed comforting, almost embracing as she tried to open her eyes, but was unable to, panicking her further. But she could not move, her limbs seeming frozen in time, even sensing a detachment from her physical state, her body no longer a part of consciousness. Her emotions spun, the visions becoming faster and faster as she struggled to contain her terror. Distant screaming began to fill her ears, her adrenalin and terror rising even further. The screams got louder and louder, then she sucked in air, the oxygen making her cough and wheeze as it filled her nostrils and lungs.
She opened her eyes, the flashing light now behind her, casting their shadows eerily across the walkway and walls at the end of the cylinder. Coughing and sucking in air, she heard the pitiful moaning and screaming from beyond the walkway, the surroundings seeming the same as before. Next to her, Riaz and David Bland were also coughing, the terminal manager lowering to his knees as he struggled to breath. Then she felt a disturbance in the air behind her as Sam and Shino began coughing and wheezing.
As her vision cleared, she saw Dryden at the end of the tunnel frantically beckoning them forward, his black visor concealing his eyes as he shouted, ‘Come out of the transporter, we need to load the wounded!’ Instinctively in response, she bent down and pulled the terminal manager to his feet, struggling forward with his weight as Riaz grasped his other arm to assist. As they stepped down the ramp from the spinning cylinder, she glanced across and through the side doors to the right, her eyes widening as she saw the scene in the larger next room through the opening, the silent red sign above flashing in warning, ‘Alert: Triage in progress’.
Blood lay in large pools across the shiny grey floor, the many bodies writhing or lying still on the surface, the flashing warning lights in the room reflecting grimly across the dark liquid. The wounds were extensive, shattered limbs, broken armour and dishevelled bodies, nearly sixty in total. Hardie gasped as she took in the scene, the medics and marines of the first company applying tourniquets and bandages as quickly as they could. Several filled black body bags lay along the wall of the transporter room, the bloody smeared trails leading from them back to the main room, the marines and soldiers having died from their wounds as they waited for the transporter to whir into action. Shino and Sam stood behind the other three, the blood draining from their faces with shock at the scene before them.
David Bland struggled to his feet, shaking off his disorientation, his voice hoarse as he pointed, ‘Help them!’ Hardie, Riaz, Shino and Sam lunged forward, pushing the overwhelming sights from their senses and approaching the nearest casualties. Dryden was lifting a wounded man with a medic opposite him, using a body bag as a makeshift stretcher, the casualty screaming loudly, his armour scorched and bloody. As they lumbered towards the transporter carrying the injured private, David could see the man had lost both legs below the knee, his uniform torn across the centre of his chest the material scorched with a black tar like substance.
Dryden shouted desperately at the terminal manager as he passed him, pulling the weight up the ramp, ‘Keep them together here, don’t let them wander from that main room!’
David nodded, his face aghast as the screaming man passed and the three disappeared into the light. He pushed himself reluctantly forward, forcing his body from the shocked inaction and ran to another casualty, seeing the man pushing his body upwards, blood pouring from his mouth. The marine with him was struggling to get the casualty to stay down, the injured man’s senses oblivious to his efforts in the searing pain, his lower body almost burnt completely, his left arm reduced to a bloodied stump.
Hardie fought back tears as she looked into the charred swollen face of the soldier before her, his green uniform tattered around his body a
nd scorched skin exposed. Blood and plasma seeped onto the bag he was on, the man staring blankly at his snapped left leg, the bone protruding through his thigh. He looked into her face with his remaining eye, tears flowing down his scratched and scarred face, ‘They-they want to exterminate us…they show no mercy!’ He lunged upwards, grasping her shoulders, ‘Please take me away, through the portal!’ The marine opposite her indicating for her to grasp the bag he was on. She responded, half lifting the injured soldier, now clinging to her neck sobbing. She carried him, half staggering with the marine towards the light in the room behind her.
Riaz held the hand tightly of the dying soldier, his green uniform torn to the waist and chest cut open, broken ribs protruding through his skin. The man was coughing for air, the blood pouring into his lungs from his injuries. A medic moved forward, pushing the man upwards, his head coming to rest on Riaz’s shoulder, the blood spilling from his mouth onto Riaz’s armour. The medic looked into Riaz’s eyes, his face determined beneath his medical eye shield, his mouth whispering, ‘He will go quicker this way!’
Riaz gulped as the emotion filled his throat, the soldier gripping is neck tightly as he coughed deeply, his chest shaking. Then the grip lightened, his hand dropping lifelessly away, the tears forming in Riaz’s eyes as the soldier died.
Sam had run to the back of the room, attempting to help the numerous wounded as they entered, the wide doors opening. The Space Station’s Chief Medical officer smiled grimly at him in greeting as the doors shot open, ‘Another ship has arrived!’
A Marine Medic pushed a stumbling soldier towards Sam as he turned to run back to the recently arrived transporter. Sam lunged, grabbing the injured soldier, the man’s leg snapped in two places and dragging behind him as he leant on his rifle. Shouldering his weight, Sam gritted his teeth, hearing the gurgling in the soldier’s throat and closing his eyes as he saw the blood trail behind them. Pushing himself forward, almost completely supporting the soldier, he grimaced as the man suddenly grabbed his uniform at his chest, the blood dripping from his mouth. The wounded man winced further tugging at Sam’s uniform as he tried to steady himself, ‘Get me to the transporter, my men need help!’
Sam’s eyes widened as he realised he was supporting a commander, glancing to the two pips on the body armour. His adrenalin forcing his straining muscles to support the wounded officer as they staggered towards the flashing lights from the other room. Sam passed Riaz as he moved to another casualty, seeing the tears on the young Asian man’s face.
All around them, the scenes were grim and emotionally draining, the bloodied smear marks and pools an indication of the ferocity of battle, the sacrifices the Trevakian soldiers and marines were making in their frantic battle for survival. Wounded and shattered soldiers, both male and female were slowly assisted or carried towards the transporter, the intense lights flashing across the gruesome scenes as the broken military personnel disappeared on their way to earth. As the men and women departed from Alexion One, further full transports continued to arrive from Zaxon B, the desperate fighting raging on the planet below.
Shino knelt next to a crying marine, his shoulder armour shattered, some of the metal embedded in his chest and legs. His arm lay uselessly on the metal floor in a pool of blood, detached from his body, the soldier having carried it there. A marine medic jabbed a syringe into the injured man’s neck, his grip on Shino’s arm weakening as the anaesthetic swept through his body. The medic quickly jumped to the wound, slapping a bandage on the open stump, the plastic army dressing automatically sweeping round the opening in the man’s skin and sealing it. Carefully, the medic picked up the detached arm and rose to his feet, pulling the wounded shoulder upwards as he nodded his thanks to Shino. He supported the soldier as the man limped painfully away towards the light.
Shino eyes were full of tears, the emotions pouring through her body as she knelt there, the casualties all around the room being slowly moved towards the transporter. As she knelt there, she sobbed, looking up at the large picture above her and straining her eyes through the tears and emotion to decipher the meaning. The picture was the full height of the wall before her, the colours seeming to swim as the nausea within her from the sights distorted her vision. The blood imprint of a hand was on the wall next to the poster, the marine medic pushing against it to rise. Slowly the colours moved into focus, her eyes determining the picture more clearly. The female marine stood before her brandishing an assault rifle, the colours on the pictures armour vivid and strong, the marine’s features delicate yet determined. Above the picture in bold red military print ‘Patriotism, Strength, Honour, Personal Sacrifice.’ Shino’s eyes dropped to read below the large picture, sucking in air as she did so, ‘’Trevakian Marines, Your Time is Now!’ She bit her lip, swallowing hard to settle herself as she took in the message, her small frame slowly rising upwards, determination forming in her eyes. Clenched tightly in her hands was the injured man’s discarded and broken automatic weapon.
Chapter Seven: You have a Message
The police Range Rover sped along the road alongside the river Thames, the blue lights flashing as it overtook the line of traffic, in front the two armed police motorcyclists attempting to clear the heavy traffic to ease their progress. In the passenger seat of the vehicle, the Thames Valley Chief Constable flicked through the notes providing an update to the ongoing situation. As the vehicle braked for a panicking motorist ahead, the senior officer swore under her breath, her body lurching forward in the seat.
The driver looked across at his commander, his face flushed with embarrassment, ‘Sorry Ma’am….difficult to keep the civilians calm at a time like this!’
Chief Constable Wilson smiled uncomfortably, ‘No problem…let’s just get there in one piece please.’
The man nodded, the vehicle accelerating again as it passed through some woodland then emerged into sunlight as it headed through Runnymead Park on the approach to the M25 motorway circling London. The Chief Constable looked up from her notes again as the large car swerved to avoid another motorist, the senior policeman glancing across towards the north east in the direction of Heathrow.
Plumes of heavy dark smoke were rising in the distance, the burning fires pouring black soot into the air, flashes in the heavens above indicating the ferocity of the air battle. She looked back at the road ahead, seeing the flashing lights on the motorcycle escort, ‘What’s the situation at Heathrow again?’
The police officer in the back seat leant forward in response, ‘Strafing across the runways Ma’am. The fuel depots have been hit and several of the commercial aircraft apparently, they are burning on the runway sides. Some of the terminal buildings have been badly damaged and the M4 into Central London is blocked near Brentford. West London is now at a virtual standstill.’
Dropping the leather wallet of notes into the foot well in frustration, Chief Constable Wilson sighed, ‘Will we get to the Prime Minister’s location in time? The traffic seems to be getting heavier.’
The driver shrugged, his concentration on the road ahead, ‘I hope so, Ma’am! But many of the roads are blocked now due to traffic congestion…we may have to detour!’
The senior officer started leaning back in her chair, sighing and glancing back out of the window to the north to watch the billowing dark smoke on the horizon, ‘Very well…just do your best!’
The sky flashed dramatically before them, the air seeming to blur and shake, then flashed again. The Range Rover swerving onto the verge as the driver stared mesmerised out of the windscreen, distracted by the intermittent intense lights. The car bounced on the verge before swerving back onto the road, clipping a stationery vehicle queuing in the line of traffic.
The jet black Morgon fighter emerged from cloaking about fifty metres above the Thames, static energy sparking from the cloud of steam. The craft’s engines glowing as the fighter shot forward, the air disturbance rocking the Range Rover. The driver swerved again in surprise as the Chief Constable reached forward for
the dashboard, a grunt coming from her lips.
The policeman in the back stared between the seats, open eyed at the craft as it moved along the Thames, ‘What the f…..is that?’ He corrected his language, becoming aware of the senior officer in the front. Several more flashes followed, the Range Rover rocking as the air was disrupted around them, the vehicle screeching to a halt, throwing the occupants forward. Before them, one of the police motorcyclists swerved into a stationery vehicle, the rider being propelled across the bonnet. The other motorcyclist screeched, his bike skidding and twisting sideways on the tarmac, the rider toppling onto the road. The three occupants of the Range Rover sat pinned back in their seats, their mouths open in shock at the scene before them as the flashing continued, the air seeming to crackle further with static charge.
Three more Morgon fighters emerged from cloaked, accompanied by three larger fighter bombers, the black aircraft seeming to hang in the air momentarily. Having swooped down undetected further along the river, they were lining up an attack run along the River Thames. As their engines glowed, the craft moved slowly forward along the river towards the M25, their pilots manoeuvring into attack formation.
The Chief Constable turned, her eyes wide with fear as she frantically grasped the radio from the dashboard, her voice rising in excitement, ‘CV1 to base, CV1 to base!’
The radio crackled, then the controller replied, their voice official, ‘Convey message CV1!’
The Chief Constable hesitated, then shouted into the microphone, ‘Enemy aircraft on the Thames at the M25, forming attack formation…’ She gasped as the first six black craft shot forward into the distance, the Range Rover shaking violently again in the backdraft, ‘Heading for Central London, I repeat…Central London! Convey to RAF Command!’
The Last Marine in the Galaxy (Galaxies Collide Book 1) Page 7