Battle for the Earth

by John P. Gledhill

  He had desperately wanted to exploit the human resources at the now undefended Brisbane base for his Sybote army, but now could no longer afford to split his forces. The other problem that he was painfully aware of was the resistance forces around the Dulles base, and indeed world wide. They had been growing in number and strength almost daily, carrying out hit-and-run attacks on any stray Annunaki forces they came across. It seemed they now had the confidence that formerly had been lacking.

  **

  Nalater was furious at the behaviour of his superior. From the moment he had to deal directly with Tannacha, he had lost total faith in the leadership of this so-called ‘supreme commander’.

  The catastrophic loss of troops, ordnance and vessels was unacceptable even by Annunaki standards, but he knew that to say this openly would mean an instant death sentence, such was the stranglehold Tannacha had over his army. Nalater would need a lot of luck and a foolproof plan if he was going to succeed in overthrowing his leader, and he would need to move quickly with the second battle group due to arrive at any moment.

  Nalater approached Tannacha on the bridge.

  ‘Supreme commander, would you like me to lead a small force back to Australia and capture some humans for your Sybote experiments in readiness for the arrival of the second battle group?’

  Tannacha thought long and hard about this generous offer from Nalater. He did want to impress the new battle group, and his Sybotes were sure to do that. The problem was he had none left, the last ten having been destroyed in the previous battle.

  Self-interest decided it for him.

  ‘Very well. Take four assault ships with two large transports and as many warriors as you think you need. I want at least a thousand humans. That should get me at least ten Sybotes.’

  Nalater bowed and thanked his leader for the opportunity to serve him. But leaving the bridge he knew the final parts of his scheme were coming together.

  **

  The small group of Annunaki vessels travelled directly to Australia. This time there were no ESG ships showing anywhere on the proximity detectors.

  Nalater was feeling quite pleased with himself. At last he would have a real opportunity to get rid of Tannacha without implicating himself. The natural progression of Annunaki thinking would then make him supreme commander.

  The small Annunaki force set down in the Gabba stadium and the Annunaki warriors disembarked, three of the assault craft circling above like vultures over a fresh kill.

  Two hundred Annunaki warriors were now bearing down on the entrances to the base, when a volley of machine gun fire caught them off guard. Six of the warriors fell immediately and two stumbled forward as if struggling to hold their balance. The rest broke ranks and took cover in the seated area around the stadium.

  The assault craft didn’t hesitate in pinpointing where the weapons fire was coming from, and proceeded to destroy the surrounding area. The weapons fire from the Australian resistance fell silent and the Annunaki warriors carried on with their task.

  By now the Brisbane base had all but been emptied of the people left behind, but as in the case of all disasters you get some that leave and some that stay behind. Such was the case here and after some more sporadic resistance about three hundred humans were rounded up. This was nowhere near enough, however, and Nalater knew Tannacha would not be satisfied. He ordered his warriors out of the stadium and on to Wellington Road. They passed along the road and into the suburban areas to the east of the stadium, hunting for humans.

  The resistance was intensifying now, as if the humans could guess their fate if captured. Street-to-street fighting was now the norm, with the certainty that the assault ships would bring a swift end to each skirmish.

  The death toll was rising, but the Brisbane people were bravely leaving their mark on the Annunaki warriors. It took six hours of intense street fighting for Nalater to achieve the required headcount of one thousand captives, and at least seventy-five of his warriors wouldn’t be going back to the Dulles base.

  The captives were herded unceremoniously onto the transports by their Annunaki masters. The brutality of the warriors knew no limits, whether it was men or women. Children would be killed on sight as they were considered of no use to Tannacha’s project. Nalater now had a plan to stick to.

  Eventually the transports were ready to leave, and flying slowly at roof-top height they commenced their journey back to Dulles.

  Unknown to Tannacha, Nalater had instructed that the equipment for the first part of Tannacha’s Sybote process to be loaded on board the transports. Nalater was personally going to oversee the fitting and programming of the scorpion-like mind-control devices. This was an essential part of his plan, and he needed to get it right, which is why he was in no great hurry to get back to Dulles.

  The conditions on board the transports were unspeakable. It was only too apparent that the Annunaki had no respect for the human species.

  Nalater had altered the programming of the scorpion mind-control devices only very slightly: just one spoken word of command by Nalater to be recognised by the Sybotes when he was ready.

  Sixty of the humans had now been fitted with the mind-control devices. This was one of the more dangerous phases of the process and already four hundred and fifty humans had perished. Even with the expectation of a very high death rate during this initial part of the process, this was a huge loss of human material. It was probably due to the speed with which Nalater was processing them. He was demanding that one hundred of the humans be converted by the time they reached Dulles.

  The dead bodies were simply tossed out of the transport as it flew along consistently at one hundred metres above the still and blue Pacific ocean, heading slowly and relentlessly for Dulles.

  Nalater now had his hundred implanted humans. The remaining one hundred and twenty humans who were still half alive were unceremoniously dumped from the transport into the depths of the Pacific.

  **

  As the fifty-four survivors of the three-hundred-foot fall into the ocean struggled to keep themselves afloat, things didn’t look good for them. The certain knowledge was that tiredness would bring a slow death by drowning, and cold would inevitably bring on hypothermia, with the same predictable result.

  In an effort to stay afloat more easily and to retain as much body heat as possible they split into three tightly knit groups huddled together.

  The natural leader of this unfortunate group was a tall weather-beaten Australian just pushing thirty. He was called Burnum, an Aborigine name his grandfather had been allowed to chose meaning ‘Great Warrior’. Burnum had shortened this name at a very early age to Bee, a much more practical name for a white schoolboy living in suburban Brisbane.

  Bee had organised the groups of survivors and was trying to keep up morale, when the surface of the water suddenly parted to reveal a medium-sized shuttle which settled next to the stunned group of survivors, and opened up. The shell-shocked survivors were ushered one by one into the safety of the shuttle. Once the last of the dishevelled group had been picked up, the shuttle slipped back under the surface and sped off towards Sub Sea One.

  Thourus had come along personally from Sub Sea One to supervise this rescue mission. Back in the relative safety of the undersea base the group was debriefed by Thourus in an effort to obtain any useful intelligence.

  Time after time the story was the same: the interrupted rescue attempt; the panicky retreat, not knowing whether to flee or stay at the stricken Brisbane base; being hunted down by the Annunaki warriors; but most of all - the death and destruction.

  The debrief with Bee was slightly different: he had seen something quite significant.

  Bee had been fighting with the resistance, trying to hold back the advancing Annunaki warriors. AK-47s were the weapons of choice and Bee was well trained in the use of his weapon.

  The tactics used by the resistance were simple, and had been used before: a firefight would be started and be
fought savagely. The resistance would then withdraw leaving five fighters in hiding. The Annunaki warriors would advance in pursuit of the resistance fighters, passing the hidden group and leaving themselves vulnerable to attack from the rear as well as from the front. This strategy had served the resistance well and had helped to balance the odds against the superior Annunaki numbers.

  Bee had concealed himself under the floorboards of a suburban house and was able to see the streets around him through the air ventilation bricks surrounding the bottom of the house. The streets were full of advancing Annunaki warriors, blasting away with their pulse weapons.

  Abruptly a noise above him alerted him to a presence in the house. Three Annunaki warriors were in the living room above him. Through a crack in the floor he could see they were struggling with what looked like a hemp sack and the sack was putting up one hell of a fight.

  Bee moved closer to the struggle looking for a gap in the floor where he could get a closer look. After finding an ideal position to observe he settled down to work out what was going on. All too soon it became apparent that inside the bag was a child, a young boy of around ten years, and the Annunaki were eating him alive, tearing savagely at the boy’s live body and gorging themselves on his flesh.

  The Annunaki ate humans alive! This put a whole new slant on survival.

  Blinded with rage Bee opened up with his AK-47, bullets tearing through the floor up into the Annunaki warriors at nearly point-blank range, ripping into the torsos of the evil creatures. The hail of death also brought a merciful release for the screaming child. Bee emptied his clip, inserted another one and carried on blasting bullets through the disintegrating floor.

  The next thing he remembered was waking up with a seven-inch deep gash across his forehead in the squalor on hoard the transport among a throng of petrified civilians. Although there had been rumours regarding Annunaki feeding habits, he now knew for certain the Annunaki would eat live humans.

  Thourus knew he had to get news of this to Jumouk. Bee would have to be sent to the Mars base with all haste.

  **

  47

  Balac was keeping a watchful eye on his nervous passenger as they broke water just off Queensland. Bee was clearly in shock following his experience of being thrown out of a shuttle into the sea.

  The TAG assault craft sped upwards towards the outer atmosphere at a fantastic speed, and without warning suddenly they were in space.

  Bee couldn’t believe how many times in the past twelve hours he should have died. He had lost count.

  Whether through the relaxing experience of space travel or the sheer physical and emotional exhaustion of the past twelve hours, Bee drifted off into a fitful slumber. As the assault craft gently touched down on the red planet surface, he reacted instinctively and abruptly came to.

  ‘Are we there yet?’

  ‘Yes, we are, sir.’ Balac was polite and to the point.

  Fiona was waiting to greet them. Bee was amazed at the size and complexity of the Mars base, so luxurious compared to the Earth bases.

  First of all he was taken to one of the base hospitals to have his head wound properly attended too. The hospital amazed him too, equipped as it was with technology he had never seen before, with staff obviously of the highest calibre. Within ten minutes you would not have guessed that he had been injured at all. They also provided him with a shower and a fresh set of clothes.

  Fiona escorted him to the main control room, where Jumouk was waiting in one of the annexes. As Bee recounted his horror story, Fiona had to leave to be physically sick. It came as no surprise to Jumouk.

  Bee had a large steaming mug of coffee in front of him. This was to wash down the two burger rolls he had just devoured. In the heat and panic of everything that had happened, he had clean forgotten about food. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything.

  The food was good; in fact, the food was excellent, he thought, gulping down another mouthful of strong sweet coffee.

  Jumouk had been waiting for him to finish his meal.

  ‘Bee, you must not repeat to anyone what you have just told me. If this gets out, I dread to think what it would do to morale.’

  ‘I understand, I still can’t believe it myself.’

  Fiona now rejoined them.

  ‘How are you feeling, Bee?’

  ‘I’m Fine thanks, Fiona. Just tired.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. If it’s OK with you, Jumouk, I’ll take Bee to his quarters and get him settled in.’

  Jumouk thanked Bee, and they left.

  Lee joined Jumouk at the coffee table.

  ‘I’ve just heard from Finney. He and Sacha have left London and are on their way to meet up with Mark at Manassas. They’re planning another attack on Dulles.’

  ‘Do you know what kind of attack?’

  ‘Not really. They’re being very hush-hush about it.’

  ‘Did you hear what Bee had been telling us about the Annunaki?’

  ‘Yes, unfortunately the rumours are all around the base.’

  ‘That’s regrettable. I don’t know how this is going to affect morale.’

  Lee nodded.

  ‘To be honest there’s not much we can do about it now the cat’s out of the bag.’

  Jumouk stood up.

  ‘See if you can find out what Finney and Mark are up to. We could do with some good news.’

  ‘OK, sir, leave it with me. I’ll do my best.’

  **

  Mark Howden and Bill Graham were at the entrance to the sewer complex awaiting the arrival of Finney and Sacha.

  The shuttle surfaced and dropped Finney and Sacha on to the small jetty. Making their way towards the entrance to the sewers, they could just make out the eerie shadows of the welcoming party.

  With the introductions over, Bill took point and the small group made their way up through the complex labyrinth of tunnels, towards Manassas.

  ‘Tell me, Mark. Do you have many pilots?’

  Finney’s question was almost nonchalant.

  ‘Yes, we’ve got all sorts. Why? What you got in mind, Finney?’

  Finney glanced round at Sacha and smiled.

  ‘It’s really Sacha’s idea, and it’s so bloody simple, it’s obvious.’

  ‘OK, now you’ve got me interested.’

  Mark was well aware of Sacha’s capabilities and training. He had quickly become one of those urban myths that grow up in uncertain times, a knight in shining armour, invincible and unstoppable.

  ‘All right, we’re going to need ten Hercules transports with pilots, and enough phosphorous, high explosive and sulphur to fill them all.’

  Mark whistled, a long high-pitched whistle.

  ‘Not so easy, I’m afraid, Finney.’

  Finney looked mystified.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘The planes, for a kick-off.’

  Sacha interrupted.

  ‘I think I can help you there.’

  Finney and Mark looked at each other.

  ‘How, exactly?’

  It was Finney who asked the question.

  ‘I know where twenty Hercules transports are constantly held on standby.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘George Bush International Airport, Houston, Texas, my friends. All fuelled and ready to go from a secret underground complex.’

  ‘I was going to ask how you knew that, but I don’t need to bother, do I?’

  Finney winked at Mark.

  ‘He’s the real deal, isn’t he?’

  Mark shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘Shocking! So much for national security.’

  Finney put his arm around Mark and said more seriously:

  ‘Mark, you know that they have started making those Sybote things again, don’t you?’

  ‘I suspected as much. They seem to like them.’

  ‘I was talking to Lee. He’s confirmed that at least a hundred have been tr
ansported in some form or shape from Australia. They’re probably arriving at Dulles even as we speak. They may even be there already.’

  Mark stopped for a second.

  They’re a pain in the arse and even harder to kill.’

  ‘I know. I saw the reports. That’s why we’ve got to stop them. If they ever succeeded in mass-producing these monsters, we really would be finished.’