Battle for the Earth

by John P. Gledhill

All in all, the Mars base was a pretty good and safe place to be just now.

  **

  Grant had now organised low-level patrols of ESG assault vessels, which would skim the surface of the planet looking for anything out of the ordinary. There was also a wing of twenty-five assault ships on permanent scramble in case they were needed on Earth or in space.

  Lee had broken radio silence and sent scrambled orders to Finney in London. Finney had responded with an update on his ESG forces and the resistance movement on Earth.

  Fiona had the most mundane job of all, but one in which her organisational skills came into play, arranging shift patterns for the staff to ensure full cover twenty-four hours a day. Then there were the meals, the accommodation and, not least, entertainment. Boredom was one of the quickest ways to demoralise a successful community. All this was achieved with the willing help of the base Androids, for which Fiona was eternally grateful, as she had very little working knowledge of the systems.

  Meanwhile Jumouk and Konoco were poring over numerous scenarios. They wanted to be prepared for anything and everything. All in all they felt that they weren’t doing that badly all things considered. There hadn’t been any huge loss of human civilian life as yet and the Mars base was pretty secure and providing new surprises by the hour. The Annunaki had for some reason apparently holed up at Dulles and, although there appeared to be a lot of activity, they didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast.

  Neither had broached the question that was at the back of everyone’s mind: where had the Mars base come from and, if it wasn’t the Dropas who had built it, then who had?

  This was the missing bit of the jigsaw that really troubled Jumouk. If there was someone else out there, who were they, and were they friendly? Or were they just some race from hundreds of thousands of years ago, and were now extinct? No one seemed to be able to answer him, not even the sentient Androids on the base - or, at least, they didn’t seem to want to answer him.

  Lee buzzed the door of the annexe room next to Jumouk’s quarters. Konoco invited him in. The annexe was in the style of all the rooms on the base, pleasantly decorated, functional and relaxing with mood lighting and comfortable furniture.

  ‘Lee, how can I help you?’

  Konoco was glad of the interruption; it had been a long day.

  ‘I just thought I’d bring you up to date. I’ve talked to London and everybody’s being brought up to speed by Finney and Sacha. For some reason everything seems quiet down there - well, for the time being anyway.’

  ‘Good, any more thoughts on that task Jumouk set you?’

  ‘Sorry, Konoco, not as yet. This is going to be a tough one.’

  Konoco nodded.

  ‘Thanks anyway, Lee. Keep working on it.’

  Lee excused himself, and left for the control room.

  **

  39

  Tannacha was giving instructions to one of the scientists who was running his Sybote operation. The orders were simple. Five of the Sybotes would hunt down all the snipers that were causing a problem round the perimeter of the base. They would be armed with pulse weapons and hand-to-hand combat weapons. They would also be fitted with personal communication devices and an advanced form of CCTV, so that Tannacha and Nalater could monitor their progress.

  Sitting back comfortably in front of a line of viewers, Tannacha and Nalater commenced their watch.

  All five Sybotes were moving swiftly toward the outer perimeter; Nalater disabled his perimeter defences to allow them through and outside into the buildings and rubble.

  ‘So far so good!’ exclaimed an excited Tannacha.

  The view from the CCTV couldn’t have been better; as a small muzzle flash could be seen from the front of Sybote no. 1, the sound of a hollow point bullet could be heard crunching into the Sybote’s head. The Sybote didn’t so much as falter, moving with tremendous speed and agility, so that within three seconds it was on to the sniper’s position.

  The preferred method of termination by this Sybote was removal of the sniper’s head by hand, in one lightning-fast movement. The torso of the sniper slumped to the ground and the Sybote held his prize aloft for all to see.

  This provoked a hail of sniper fire, pinpointing the positions of the other snipers. Moving remorselessly through the hail of fire, one after another the Sybotes terminated their targets. The bullets simply bounced off their armoured exoskeletons. Not one pulse weapon had been used by the Sybotes. All of them seemed to prefer the ‘personal’ touch. Half an hour had seen all the resistance snipers wiped out and not one Sybote injured.

  Tannacha gave the order to recall the Sybotes. He had one last surprise for Nalater.

  At the first stage of creating the Sybotes - the introduction of the electronic scorpion for mind control - it was possible to re-educate the humans in this state to be used as spies. With the proper re-education they could pass for normal, infiltrate the resistance, and pass back vital information about positions and plans.

  After the resounding success of the Sybotes, Tannacha had now released ten of the spies into the surrounding area.

  However, it would not have been Tannacha if there hadn’t been a twist in the tail. All ten of the spies had been afflicted with horrendous injuries by the Annunaki, ranging from amputations to serious head wounds. Some of them wouldn’t survive until they were found, but that didn’t matter so long as the rest that were rescued were credible.

  This game plan really was wait and see; the outcome at this stage was completely unknown.

  **

  Mark Howden, the resistance commander in Dulles, was just receiving word that his snipers had been slaughtered. No one could be specific as to how it had happened, only that there were no survivors.

  This was the second piece of bad news today. Finney had contacted him to tell him he was now second in command of all Earth’s resistance forces, reporting to Sacha in London. His remit was clear: find, organise and unite any resistance groups scattered worldwide. This would involve setting up an efficient communications network that was Annunaki proof.

  It was going to be a massive task, and all while he was fighting the biggest force of Annunaki warriors on the planet, right on his doorstep. Fortunately for Mark he had amongst his band of resistance some of the top communications people on the planet. This would now be their job, a task which Mark had every confidence they would make look easy. After all, it was they who had been able to set up communications with London.

  But back to the matter in hand. Mark now had to find out what had happened in Dulles with the snipers. He ordered two patrols to go to Dulles International and see if they could piece together what had happened there. The patrols were under strict instruction not to engage the enemy. This was strictly a fact-finding mission.

  As the patrols picked their way around the perimeter of Dulles the carnage inflicted on the snipers was all too apparent, and the fact that they had all more or less been killed in the same way was puzzling.

  It was at this point the patrols started to come into contact with some distressed, confused and badly injured civilians. Between the two patrols they picked up six in total, all badly injured. Trying to keep them alive until they got back to the base at Manassas would be a job in itself.

  When the patrols did return, they had already lost another two of the civilians to their grievous wounds. The remaining four were taken straight to the makeshift infirmary for treatment.

  The patrol commanders reported back to Mark. The news wasn’t good. The snipers had all been killed the same way by decapitation, and not cleanly: their heads had literally been torn off, in the most sadistic way possible. Then there was the civilians who had been found, and the death of two of them on the way back to base.

  Mark was trying to take all of this in when news of another civilian death on the operating table reached him. This only left three.

  Mark slammed his fist down on the table in frustration.

  ‘We n
eed to get inside that Annunaki base and find out what’s going on in there. I’ve got a really bad feeling about all this,’ he groaned

  Mark was in luck. One of his resistance commanders, Bill Graham, had been an architect for a building contractor, who a few years ago had carried out renovations to the sewer tunnels in the labyrinth underneath Dulles International Airport. The main Dulles Potomac interceptor sewer system was readily accessible and led right underneath the airport. This was the way to get in undetected. Mark couldn’t believe his luck at finding his own personal guide, someone who had actually worked and drawn up plans of the maze of tunnels. They would enter the tunnels of the sewer system at Fairfax and then travel north-west. Bill Graham had drawn a map of the intended route and adjoining tunnels, and had also planned an alternative route and two escape routes.

  The team Mark had put together were specialists in demolitions, ex-special forces, even an ex-CIA agent, with of course himself and Bill, around forty in all. The entry point would be a manhole at the junction of Lee Highway and Main Street.

  Once the party had safely entered the sewer tunnel, they headed north then swung west, following the directions on Bill’s map. Mark was surprised at the size and scale of the sewer tunnels, although they were very damp, and extremely smelly, with five or six inches of surface water -no, water was the wrong description. It was actually sludge of varying consistency, oozing all over the concrete walkway. Rats were everywhere - at least Mark assumed they were rats - you wouldn’t be able to tell from the size of them. They were as big as cats. Mark couldn’t help wondering what they ate, then quickly dismissed the thought from his mind.

  Bill had warned that the journey would take the group anywhere up to five hours, depending on how well they progressed.

  In the sweltering heat underground it was hard going, Mark had insisted that they stop every hour, and drink at least a litre of water to keep them hydrated.

  Three hours into the so-far uneventful journey they had stopped for the usual water break, but this time they also ate a high-energy snack of fruit, apples, pears and bananas, followed by a medium-sized bar of chocolate.

  After three hours of acclimatisation to the sewers the food was easier to stomach. In pleasanter surroundings it could almost have been a picnic.

  Twenty minutes later the party set off again on the next leg of their journey. Bill had worked out that on their last stop for water they would be under a town called Floris, right on the Annunaki perimeter around Dulles. At this point Bill would refer to a more detailed map so Mark could decide where to break surface within the Dulles complex.

  Bill and two ex-special forces soldiers were now on point. The sludge that covered the ground they were walking on had become much thicker and denser in consistency, and even the rats seemed larger. The light was poor and it was very difficult to see for any distance.

  Bill was checking the identification markings on each of the ladders leading to the manhole covers on the surface. He signalled to Mark to stop for the last water break of the journey, as he figured they were now under Floris. Bill reached into his backpack and finished the last of his water for the outbound journey, and pulled out the detailed map. Mark joined him at the front of the group.

  ‘OK, Bill, are we under Floris now?’

  Bill nodded, still studying the map.

  ‘Yes, now we’ve got three or four options. It just depends where you want to come up at Dulles.’

  ‘I think the best place would be central, somewhere around the main terminal.’

  Bill tapped on the sheet of paper.

  ‘This is the tunnel we want, then.’

  ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes.’

  ‘OK, let’s get to it, then.’

  Mark waved the group in the direction of the tunnel Bill had pointed out, and they started off down a smaller tunnel, which was quite cramped compared to the tunnels they had been walking down.

  They had only travelled for about five minutes when they came to an unforeseen obstacle. Barring their way was a thick metal grill sunk into the concrete walls. It had a small metal gate which was secured by two large metal padlocks. Mark looked at Bill.

  ‘Shit! I forgot about these, airport security. When I was down here last we didn’t come out this far. They put them in to stop terrorist attacks.’

  ‘OK, not your fault. Are we going to meet more of them?’

  Bill nodded

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘OK, so we need to find a way to get these padlocks off.’

  Bill shrugged.

  ‘We’ll need to do it quietly. Any loud noise will travel right under the airport, then that’s our cover blown.’

  Mark put his hand over his mouth and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘Acid. I’m sure we’ve got acid with us. The demolition guys will have some.’

  Mark collected a bottle of powerful acid from one of the demolition men and, taking great care, squirted some into the keyholes of the padlocks, then stepped back smartly. Tiny puffs of smoke billowed from the padlocks, and then droplets of the acid began appearing on the bottom of the padlocks. All of a sudden the first padlock sprang open, followed quickly by the second.

  ‘Well done!’ said Bill slapping Mark on the back.

  ‘Too easy,’ said Mark ruefully.

  He very gingerly removed each of the padlocks and threw the gate open.

  ‘After you, William,’ he said with a grin.

  Even in adversity, mankind’s ability to make the best of things is astonishing, thought Bill.

  After another five minutes there was another thick grill, again with a gate and padlock, which this time proved no obstacle at all. Twenty minutes later Bill called a halt to the group at a set of ladders thirty feet directly under a manhole cover.

  ‘This is it,’ he muttered, excitedly tapping the sheet of paper in his hand.

  Mark signalled for everyone to get down on the ground and stay quiet. He began to climb the ladder, gradually inching his way up until he was directly under the manhole cover. Tentatively he raised the cover enough to look out across the surrounding area, Bill couldn’t have got it more right. They were next to a large complex which could only have been the main terminal.

  Mark waited for a good five minutes. It was dark outside with very little lighting, so visibility was poor. This suited Mark. There would be less chance of them being spotted in the open. All the time Mark was watching there was absolutely no sign of movement, no guards, nothing.

  He remembered the brutal and gory demonstration of the effectiveness of the perimeter security. It was clear that the Annunaki were relying mainly on the perimeter security as their main deterrent.

  Replacing the manhole cover quietly in its groove, he slowly climbed back down the ladder and rejoined the group, congratulating Bill as he did so. After issuing his orders and splitting the group into four smaller units, the first unit of ten men emerged from the manhole and made their way to the main terminal, followed by two other units. The last ten men were left to secure the tunnel and the manhole above it along with the escape route from the terminal back to it.

  Inside the terminal building it was pitch black. The three units split up in different directions and started to look for clues as to what exactly the Annunaki were up to.

  All the units were using night-vision goggles, which made navigating through the terminal buildings considerably safer and easier. Mark could see in the distance some of the areas that were obviously occupied by the Annunaki. With lights blazing brightly they were making Mark’s job far easier, and circumventing these areas was simple.

  Mark had ordered his other units to give it two hours of reconnaissance, then meet up with him back at the point they had separated. If nothing had been discovered by then, well - it wouldn’t be worth discovering.

  The units were also equipped with night-vision cameras so that a record of the interior
s of the buildings could be kept, highlighting any changes made by the Annunaki and also documenting which buildings the Annunaki were using regularly and what they were being used for.

  As Mark’s team entered an annexe of the main terminal, they noticed a strong rotting smell. It was the smell of death, of rotting human torsos and limbs, flung everywhere with no regard for dignity or respect, just left to rot. These were the failed Sybote experiments, the 99 per cent of unfortunates who hadn’t made it into the Sybote club.

  Appalled and disgusted as they were by the sights and smells that greeted them, Mark’s team were conscious that they still had a job to do and, in any case, this was obviously an important discovery.

  After taking as many pictures as he could, Mark cut off some of the silver coating on one of the bodies. This involved the gruesome business of cutting the flesh to the bone as the material and structure wouldn’t separate from the body.