Thunder & Lightning

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The bullets weren’t as effective against their armour as we had hoped,” O’Malley noted dispassionately. Fardell nodded; an unarmoured human who had been stuck with a hand cannon burst would have been ripped apart in a shower of blood and guts. The alien armour would hold up well against handguns, maybe even assault rifles and grenades. “Sir, there’s more of them…”

  Fardell muttered a second curse as a line of alien infantry came into view, carrying strange dinky-like weapons that seemed somehow deadly and dangerous as they advanced, their dome-like heads unmoving. He could hear…something, right on the edge of his perception; click-click-click… The audio-discrimination programs could barely get a grip on it; it was as if the aliens were using it for something, perhaps talking, perhaps something else. He forced himself to concentrate as the aliens opened fire, their weapons…strange flickering bursts of red light, not automated weapons. The US Army had tried to develop a handheld laser weapon for years, but had never succeeded; the aliens, apparently, had …

  “Return fire,” he snapped. Alien weapons had targeted one of his people; he watched in a kind of numb horror as the beams of light burned through the armour and roasted the soldier inside alive, his scream vanishing as the suit toppled over and crashed, before the self-destruct systems registered the death of the occupant and destroyed the classified systems to prevent them falling into alien hands. The heavy hand cannons returned fire, tearing chunks out of the aliens; the aliens sought cover and advanced in a dance, their weapons cutting through cover and targeting the humans in their armour…

  “We have an incoming tank,” O’Malley said. Fardell saw it, clearly; an alien-designed tank that carried a strange antenna on the top, dancing with strange sparks of light. The antenna seemed to flicker suddenly, casting an unearthly light over the entire scene, and then a ball of fire launched itself towards the soldiers. Plasma fire was fast, but much slower than light-speed weapons; the alien weapon, whatever it was, positively dawdled by comparison, but it hit a wall that was sheltering two of the battlesuits…and vaporised it. The explosion was powerful enough to knock Fardell over; the aliens advanced through the chaos, their weapons flickering out and killing two more of the battlesuits, even as three of their own number fell to hand cannon fire. The alien tank was powering up again…

  “Die,” someone shouted. A burst of human plasma cannon fire splattered out and slammed into the alien tank, which exploded with a thunderous explosion; a massive flash of otherworldly light that seemed somehow to flicker around the battlefield for long minutes after the tank was destroyed. Fardell wondered, just for a moment, if they could win the skirmish, but then the ground shook; an explosion shattered the battlesuit that had fired the plasma blast…

  Plasma cannons can be detected from orbit, Fardell thought, his mind reeling under the impact. They had been plunged into a fight they couldn’t win; they had to withdraw as best as they could, get what they had learned out as quickly as possible, and then rejoin the defence lines and fight with much more advanced knowledge. The thought chilled him; for the past fifty years, the Great Powers had ruled LEO and used the advantage ruthlessly against their Wrecker enemies. Now…the aliens had taken control, and that meant that they would be able to do to the Great Powers what the Great Powers had done to the Wreckers; orbital bombardment, precise destruction of targets such as radars and radio transmitters, insertion of troops wherever they pleased…if Browning was correct about the aliens being unable to take off again, they had every reason to remain where they were, and, perhaps, the technology to hold on to wherever they took. The only way to fight them would be to get close enough to fight where their own troops would be included in the footprint of any orbital strike.

  He cursed as the battlesuits fell back. the aliens seemingly uninterested in pursuing them to destruction. There was no guarantee the aliens would care about the lives of their own people, after all; they might have looked a little like Earthly deer, although with three legs and six arms - but they were definitely not Bambi.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Invasion, Take Three

  Eastern Seaboard, USA

  “Unit Nineteen, advance towards human construction 45373,” the coordinator ordered. “There are human survivors present in the building.”

  “Understood,” Warag-Soldier-Infantry said. The coordinator hadn’t given any orders as to how the task was to be accomplished; the information the Oghaldzon had collected on the area, such as it was, had been made available, but it would be Warag’s task to determine how to take the humans prisoner, and then carry it out. Centuries of experimenting with different procedures had convinced the Oghaldzon that the Oghaldzon on the spot was the best placed to determine how to carry out any mission; no one in orbit, or even back in the larger landing ships, would have the view he would have as the closest person to the human positions. “It will be done.”

  The information was sparse, as he had expected, even thought it was being updated rapidly as drones spread out, backed up by Oghaldzon on the ground, encountering a handful of human forces that fought and died. For the Oghaldzon infantry, it was a chance to come to grips with their foes; any hope that the human soldiers would have been cured of their madness by the sheer impact of the tidal waves had been lost as the humans fought, killed, and were killed. It was a strange running battle; some units had penetrated for hundred-steps – no, kilometres, he reminded himself; I have to think in human terms – into the hinterland without making any contact, others had been engaged almost as soon as they had emerged from their craft. Some drones had been shot down by human forces with handheld missile launchers; they weren’t worth the effort of targeting them from orbit.

  Closer acquaintance with the human city hadn’t improved it in his eyes. It remained stunningly ugly, even with the almost pretty way the water sparkled as it ran back towards the sea, leaving hundreds of human bodies and smaller creatures in its wake. The bodies would have to be burned soon, he knew; the humans themselves would become infected with human diseases, even if the Oghaldzon themselves were immune…but he wasn’t sure that they were. If the humans could eat Oghaldzon food, it was quite possible that one of their diseases could spread into the Oghaldzon, or perhaps vice versa. It wasn’t unknown, back home, for a disease to affect several different species on the Oghaldzon homeworld; did human diseases have that same method of spreading across boundaries?

  Their target building was a massive tower, reaching up into the sky, although it was tiny compared to the orbital tower that had been constructed back on the Oghaldzon homeworld; the humans had to be short of space. There was little sign of the kind of overpopulation that was a serious problem back home; the Oghaldzon tended to breed large numbers of young, but the inherent limitations of the human reproductive system would limit the number of human young who could be birthed at any one time. He remembered a police action against a ThrillKill cult years ago; the tower would make the perfect place for an ambush, not least because they knew nothing about its layout, or anything about how many humans might be inside. The drones had been launched out to try to locate other groups of human survivors, but clearing the city was going to be a long, dangerous work; a group of researchers, heavily guarded, had started the task of converting a human field into a camp for the first human prisoners.

  “Spread out,” he ordered. The infantry moved forward, awed into silence by the size of the human building; the clicking of their sonar echoing around the area as they hunted for the entrance. The building was, unsurprisingly, almost opaque to sonar; there would be no way of knowing what was inside until they found a way to enter; the humans, possessing no sonar of their own, hadn’t made any provisions for the Oghaldzon. Warag wouldn’t have trusted them if they had; ThrillKill cults were very ingenious when it came to luring police and soldiers to their doom. “Find the way in…”

  A gunshot echoed out; seconds later, something slammed against his armour, glancing off and leaving him sore, but alive. Two of his soldiers fired burst of laser f
ire up toward the location of the sniper; their sonar had produced a hint of where the bullet had come from. More human weapons boomed out, the noise appallingly loud; he wondered how the humans could even stand it. Was their hearing so much worse than that of the Oghaldzon?

  “Plasma fire,” Kodak-Soldier-Infantry said, launching a plasma ball towards the location of the sniper. The explosion shattered the side of the building; Warag dimly saw a single human body falling, the entire frontal region torn away by the blast, before it crashed into the ground and smashed. A second body fell, the human, still alive, struggling to survive…but no to avail as one of the soldiers swept his laser across his body. Warag realised, as the body hit the ground, that he’d been wrong; the increased development of the front meant that the human was a female, not a male.

  He studied the human body thoughtfully for a long moment, sweeping his sonar through the body and noticing something of how it all went together, much more complicated than his own body, or even Kodak’s body. How had the humans coped with their own children growing inside them? What effects had that had on human development? If a pregnant – the very thought was almost repulsive – woman was almost helpless, did that explain something of how the humans treated their women? If not – and this female had clearly been a soldier – then how did they even live? How could they develop much faster than the Oghaldzon?

  Two of his soldiers had found the entrance; the unit broke into the building, their feet clattering over as they searched through the dim ground floor – sonar ensured that lighting was not a problem – and then found the stairs. There was no trace of power, but he wouldn’t have risked using the human elevators in any case; the unit slowly expanded up the stairwells, leaving sensors behind them to monitor for human movements. The entire skyscraper seemed to be deserted, apart from the bodies; some of them were clearly human young. One of them had been holding what looked like a miniature four-legged Oghaldzon; he studied the plush toy without really understanding it. Perhaps, he wondered, it was something to comfort the child; human children developed their intelligence sooner than Oghaldzon children. They had to face questions of existence while they were still unready to understand them…

  He didn’t remember anything of his own childhood; few Oghaldzon ever did.

  The corridors were narrowing; he sent a smaller drone ahead of them as they climbed the stairs, aware that they were very much in an alien building. It hadn’t been designed for Oghaldzon; he was uncomfortably aware that they could encounter a human ambush at any moment, one they would be unprepared to face. The sooner the human city was knocked down and rebuilt, the better; it could hardly be made more irritating by a direct nuclear strike. A single human grenade – the database was filling with details of human weapons as they were encountered – would kill most of them if it went off in the stairwell; he wasn't remotely convinced that the building was safe for any of them. It creaked…

  The drone reported back; there was a small group of humans, eight in all, waiting for them at the top. The report suggested that the humans didn’t intend to fight; they were waiting without preparing an ambush position, but they had to be careful. They might not recognise a human ambush until they realised they were being fired upon. He ordered most of the force to remain behind; leading only four soldiers to the roof, stepping out with weapons raised and sonar senses clicking away…

  The live humans were watching him; there was a small pile of weapons in the corner, all looking much cruder than the laser rifles his people carried, although the humans seemed to prefer chemically-propelled weapons. He could see some advantages, but the Oghaldzon had developed lasers very quickly and hadn’t considered projectile weapons worth the effort. The humans, three males, five females, were watching him nervously; he wondered just what an adult Oghaldzon looked like to a human. He had never seen a humanoid creature on the homeworld.

  He triggered his speaker. It was – barely – possible for an Oghaldzon to speak words that humans could hear, but it was painful and unnecessary. “You will accompany us,” he said, using the words the researchers had insisted upon. His sonar swept over the humans; they carried nothing he recognised as weapons, but human weapons could be anything. Some of the items in human pockets made no sense. “Remove all of your clothing and accompany us. Do not attempt to resist.”

  He watched as the humans slowly and reluctantly disrobed. Clothing was optional among the Oghaldzon; the uniform he wore was more of a protective outfit than anything that showed his rank among the infantry family, but the humans seemed to value their clothes. He studied them through his eyes, wondering; the humans were more limber than he would have believed, almost certainly much better at climbing than any Oghaldzon would ever be, but he guessed he was faster than them on the ground. They also lacked sonar; it should give his forces an advantage if they had to fight humans in open terrain, although he would strongly prefer to avoid fighting humans in built-up areas. They would have the advantage there.

  “Accompany us,” he ordered. He noticed that the male humans were showing signs of trying to protect the female humans. It might have made more sense if a pregnant human female was defenceless; she would need help and support from a male to survive in the jungle of human existence. “Do not attempt to deviate from the route.”

  The humans moved as if they were going to fall over; he wondered how they remained balanced as they made their slow way down the stairwell. Some of his unit were laughing at the humans, their expressions hopefully unreadable by the human captives, who might be infected with ThrillKill. So far, they had behaved themselves, but anyone infected with ThrillKill was dangerous and unpredictable. They might decide to attack an Oghaldzon with their bare hands, or they might try to grab a weapon…although he suspected that they wouldn’t be able to use a laser rifle. The human weapons had been cruder, but much simpler; an Oghaldzon needed to use two hands to handle one of their weapons, and a human would find that tricky.

  “Move,” he said, pushing the humans forward into captivity. He sent a brief update to the coordinator as they finished stripping the human building, scattering sensors everywhere; if there were more humans, they would trigger an alarm sooner or later. “You will be well treated if you cooperate.”

  Moments later, it darkened suddenly, and the skies opened.

  Warag ignored it.

  * * *

  Markus Wilhelm kept one arm wrapped around Carola’s shoulder as the aliens prodded them onwards, silently cursing himself for a fool; they should have left the city as soon as the aliens had been detected, no matter that that would have left them twiddling their thumbs for six months before the invasion began. He glanced down at her drawn features and her arms, crossed over her bare breasts, and silently promised her revenge as soon as he could. There was no reason to assume – rather the opposite – that the aliens would be interested, but other humans would be interested in looking at her. The aliens had stripped their dignity from them as if it had been nothing; they didn’t even have the excuse of being interested in tormenting their captives.

  They walked in silence. The aliens didn’t seem to care about handcuffing them, or securing them; they had made certain that the humans were carrying nothing dangerous before leading them out of the skyscraper and into the ruined city. It was a nightmare; the stench alone almost made him sick as it rose in the unnatural heat, moments before the sky darkened and hot rain poured down on them, splashing all over them. The aliens ignored it as the rain poured down; they didn’t even seem concerned about the weather as they led them directly towards one of their ships, then past it and back into the city. He wondered where they were going as other human captives joined the group; a gang member who was staring at the women as if Christmas had come early, an older man who was bleeding from a wound to the temple, but whose eyes were bright and keen.

  “Come here,” the gang member said, addressing a woman who flinched back. “I said, come here…”

  He reached out and groped her bare breasts, makin
g her scream. A moment later, one of the alien weapons flickered red and the gang member fell to the ground, a smouldering hole burned right though his head. The aliens didn’t seem to care; the one that had fired the shot stamped on the body with his single hindleg, several others followed suit, but with no other sign that they had just killed a man. Wilhelm wasn't sure how to feel; on one hand, he would have been terrified about Carola’s safety anywhere near the former gang member, on the other hand, the aliens had swatted a life that couldn’t have caused them any harm. It was a sign, he was sure, of how the aliens thought; he just didn’t understand it. If they had cared nothing for the humans, they could have just mowed the entire group down, but if they had just wanted the humans as slaves, would it have mattered to them if the humans attacked each other or not?

  The rain kept coming down; the groped girl cried silently as the rain suddenly blew very cold, then hot, then back to cold…all the time, utterly ignored by the aliens, who kept on their operations as if it was irrelevant. There were thousands of them swarming around, entering the city or sending their vehicles – strange tanks, even stranger skimmer bikes – into the city and buzzing about overhead. There was a massive explosion in the distance; he saw a tower block slowly tip over and crash, grimly he hoped that a few hundred aliens had been killed in the shattering impact.

  Carola looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, or maybe rain. It was impossible to tell, her naked body shivering against his. “They’re taking us to the golf course,” she said, her voice surprised. Wilhelm could have kicked himself; they’d watched games before when the course had become one of main attractions in the city. “Look.”