Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught

by Andrew McGregor

  His eyes glinted as he glanced up, licking his lips with excitement, ‘High Command in Morasat has been encouraged by reports from the Red Leopards in the west, now our strongest formation in that sector and heavily reinforced. Their commander has requested freedom of action and permission to attack with the support of artillery and Fahimian ground attack aircraft...they have also requested supporting fire from your station.’

  Admiral Shadian’s exhausted body seemed to suddenly fill with energy, his weariness clearing as he grinned with rising adrenalin, ‘What of the Morgon positions...defences?’

  The Marine intelligence officer glanced down again, scrolling the lettering upwards, ‘Red Leopard intelligence report that some Morgon units have been withdrawn...that the northern flank linking enemy forces from east to west is being reinforced at the expense of the forward units as they are heavily dug in...that this is potentially an opportunity to break the enemy once and for all, but that time is short before these new allies are deployed.’

  Shadian spun round to the engineer, his voice shaking with excitement, ‘How long before all repairs carried out? Are all the upper and lower guns fully operational and can you provide a temporary laser shield to protect the station?’

  The engineer’s eyes widened, his frame stiffening to respond, ‘Most repairs will be partially completed within the next few hours...there will still be three or four floors that are not airtight, but we can seal these decks and allow passage past.’ He hesitated, considering some more, ‘After temporary repairs, nearly all turrets are now operational, though at a reduced rate of fire due to crew losses...your first officer Archiad of the heavy gun turrets deserves a medal for his repair progress and crew training.’ He nodded as the admiral smiled fondly, ‘The flak guns are depleted, but we should be able to offer sufficient defence...my crews can change all the damaged barrels and guns over the next couple of nights.’ He grinned in relish, ‘You will have your laser shield Admiral...and soon.’

  Shadian turned back to the military intelligence officer, ‘We will move the station further west and behind Morasat to provide support to the Red Leopards...the two support ships added to our guns should provide enough deterrent and the enemy will have to fly further.’ He glanced round at the seated Fahimian, seeing the emissary rise and nod willingly, his voice rising further, ‘Most of my fighters will join the initial assault and then return to protect us...we will then provide waves as time allows. The ground attack will be supported by one company of Fahimian commandoes and a section of our own station reservists...perhaps even a human contingent too.’ He drew a sharp breath, his eyes sparkling, ‘Finally we attack...and before these monstrous Morgon reinforcements land...’

  The Trevakian marine smiled, nodding as he stepped back, a fist slamming against his right chest plate, ‘I will inform Morasat command sir...commence the move to your new position and be ready to fire, the attack will commence in the next few hours...your signal to fire will be green surface flares over Zangara Outpost.’

  Zaxon B Reserve Battalion Outpost, East of Morasat

  Lieutenant Malikkas sat shaking on the metal rack floor of the transport, his dark lined and puffed eyes staring blankly through the rear loading bay, dust blowing across his view as he watched silhouettes unload ammunition and supply cases, his eyes welling with tears as his chest shuddered.

  He looked up in stunned silence as a helmeted figure dropped to a crouch next to him, obscuring his view, the grey and red striped flyers helmet moving from side to side as a bright light was shone abruptly into one of his eyes. His head lolled backwards in an attempt to avoid the glare, a rough gloved hand grasping his neck as the torch jerked to the other eye, the voice before him gruff and edged with nervousness, ‘Stay still…we need to get going soon…we are vulnerable on the ground!’

  Boots clanked on the metal walkways as additional ration boxes were heaved upwards from a stack further along the loading bay, muffled shouts from outside as Malikkas noticed armed marines either side of the main door, their assault rifles raised nervously. His head lolled sideways with exhaustion as the shadowed figure before him drew a deep breath, ‘You are very weak…another couple of days and you would be in the afterlife…’ The co-pilot grinned mischievously, ‘Perhaps your time was not now, eh?’ The figure rose, shouting into the front cabin as he prepared an energy and anaesthetic injection, twisting the base of the slim all in one kit and adjusting the levels required, ‘Get the cargo ensign back from the outpost…I want this officer in a padded medical suit before we take off…that will sedate him and supplement his energy levels further. We need to get him back to the medical bay at Morasat and quickly…’ The co-pilot pulled the ragged, dirt laden uniform back from Malikkas’s wrist, holding the booster above the darkened skin briefly before thrusting it downwards, the exhausted Herrakian hardly responding as needles swept through his rough skin and nerve endings.

  As Malikkas’s head drooped forward once more, he vaguely heard the crunches of boots outside, the dusty wind whistling across the open doors in the distance as his mind descended into darkness, a restless unconsciousness plagued by nightmares.

  The co-pilot smiled down on his patient and lone passenger for the return flight, hearing further boxes being unloaded behind, the rapid clank of boots across the metal rack floor, his head turning briefly as the cargo ensign appeared breathlessly in the opening, the younger Trevakian’s voice rising in excitement as he outstretched a padded arm to point, ‘We need to go…the new Fahimian pulse sensors show a suspected small enemy patrol. It’s in the distance, but moving this way…the unit commander want’s us out of sight…the snipers will take them out.’

  Red Leopard defensive positions, west of Morasat

  The mechanical motors of hover tanks whirred, the sound overpowered by the roar of engines of the tracked more robust steel monsters beside the main track leading northwards. Electrical motors whined as the turrets moved from side to side, the hover tanks rising from the barren earth as dust and debris billowed along their armoured side skirts. Vehicle commanders sat in their turrets, inspecting their weapons and listening to the chatter of their crews below, a couple of camouflaged hover jeeps and carriers slipping past along the track, carrying engineers and new fixed laser guns, the calibre larger than they had experienced before.

  General Gristin emerged from his rear command post, the circular resin pre-fabricated and camouflaged building set south of a copse of petrified trees, several other low military buildings situated around the main briefing room. Officers emerged into the dull early morning light behind their commander, a couple shivering in the low temperature, condensed exhaled clouds forming in the thin air around them. All were dressed in combat uniforms, the red outlined bubbled resin shoulder armour complimented with additional protection on thighs, shins and across the arms, with padding on elbows and knees.

  Forming into a semi-circle around their commander, the General looked up into the dull clouded grey sky, straining his eyes as if in attempt to see the space station in orbit above, a younger adjutant stiffening next him, ‘General…we have moved our marines up to the edge of the woods during darkness…once the tanks have passed, they will be supported by quad carriers…’

  The general nodded in rising enthusiasm, ‘Good…once we break through I want the majority of tanks with infantry support to reach the ravine to the north as soon as possible, cut off the Morgons in the valley and at the mine. As we discussed, our reserve company will dig in there, supported by heavy artillery in Contax base and the engineer units with their technically superior fixed pieces and drones. The tanks will then advance to the west, covered by the Morasat guns and defensive units dug in to the far north of the capital along the enemy’s flank.’ The general grinned in rising relish, ‘Ensure the mobile reserve is able to support at all times in case we are delayed…at no time should we stop, the enemy must not be given time to regroup!’

  One of the senior officers nodded, stepping forward, his face flushed w
ith exhaustion from a night of planning, ‘General, I have briefed the self propelled artillery commander…his vehicles will move up to Contax Base once it is secured and bring concentrated fire down on any enemy positions…we believe the new Fahimian short range communication droids should overcome the enemy’s jamming if positioned correctly…they can boost and relay all our comms...the scrambling changes continually.’

  General Gristin indicated to the officer beside him, ‘Anything further to add?’

  The younger field commander nodded, eager to join his men in their forward fox holes, ‘We have two hundred Fahimian commandoes as a mobile reserve sir…their commander has requested they are permitted to join the initial assault.’ The officer shook his head, stifling a grin, ‘I have declined as they are few in number and may be targeted directly by the enemy, but their commander then requested I bring the question to yourself…they are a very determined race and want revenge…’

  The general considered the request, then shook his head grimly, ‘I agree with your initial decision…no…their soldiers are on the way to earth, supporting our lines to the east of Morasat and their pilots are protecting Alexion One…they cannot do everything.’ He grinned as the excitement rose within him, ‘Send their commander to me…they should have a representative with my command post.’ He nodded back to the older officer, ‘We will move up with the mobile artillery unit…the Red Leopards are always near the fight, even in command…’

  The adjutant coughed slightly, indicating to the north, his voice strained with adrenalin, ‘We have limited time now sir…Alexion One is about to open fire…’

  Several officers stiffened, their right fists slamming against left chest plates as the commander nodded, ‘Go to your units…we are ready. Today, the Morgons taste defeat!’ The general saluted formally as most of the officers prepared to run back to their units, his voice rising, ‘Our time is now!’

  Chapter Twelve: A journey into West London

  The blue Jaguar limousine swept through the darkened gates of Osterley Park, two police motorcyclists before it, their blue lights flashing as the tyres crunched over rough gravel. Behind the saloon, a dark Range Rover of the armed protection unit with four occupants swerved through the wide opening. The driver acknowledged a group of camouflage uniformed soldiers stood to the left before a low wall, several smoking, their assault rifles slung over their shoulders. Several more troops on the right scrutinised the vehicles and darkened windows suspiciously, an officer waving as the car and Range Rover sped past.

  The bikes slowed to the side as the Jaguar continued onwards, pulling right and drawing to a halt at second military checkpoint, two soldiers stood before the vehicles with semi-automatic rifles across their chests. To either side of the soldiers were two tents, a low wattage glowing spotlight above attached to the overhanging trees and flickering illuminations inside the military tarpaulin, shadows moving across the waxed canvas coverings.

  Further to either side there were several porta cabins and other tents, all covered with camouflaged netting strung across the overhead branches with additionally attached foliage, several armed silhouettes stood on guard or staring suspiciously towards the new arrivals. The armed limousine passenger in his thirties looked out into the darkened field before them in curiosity, shaking his head in disbelief as he whispered, ‘All this security and we can’t see a damn thing…is this where this ship is meant to be?’

  The driver grinned at the squeal of leather upholstery behind, the passenger in the back seat leaning forward, his strained face lined with weariness as he chuckled, hands clasping the shoulder rests of the seats in front, ‘Perhaps you would like to come inside…it’s the least I can do for all your efforts.’

  The protection officer in the passenger seat swallowed, his cheeks flushing upon realising his error, the rear passenger having slept for most of the journey, ‘Erm…sorry sir…not my place to have said that…’

  A further low chuckle came from behind them, the admiral slapping his shoulder playfully, ‘Don’t apologise…I was once a soldier myself…’ He smiled in recollection, ‘A lot younger then of course…but I recall an unfavourable comment I made in front of a general…a far worse breach of protocol, so don’t worry young man.’ Admiral Karladen shook his head as he stared up wearily into the rear view mirror, their eyes meeting, ‘I got lashes…I think we can arrange a warm meal for you and the others and perhaps some refreshments instead?’

  The driver’s window lowered, a Royal Marine officer bending to glance inside, his eyes widening as he recognised the dark blue uniform in the rear of the car, then the figure, his head nodding in respect as a gloved hand rose to his helmet, ‘Admiral Karladen…welcome back and good evening sir. The men would like to thank your crew for the extensive use of the facilities, excellent food…and all are very grateful for the enhanced medical treatment.’

  The senior Trevakian waved his hand, forcing a smile, ‘That’s the least we can do after what has happened…’ He leant forward once more, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ‘They like the food then?’

  The officer at the window nodded enthusiastically, ‘Oh yes sir…the meats and poultry rations are exceptional…our quartermaster is extremely jealous and dumbfounded at the quality of taste and nutritional benefits.’ The Royal Marine captain grinned, ‘The men wait for each meal with relish…I have even had to arrange a rota as to who goes first and it’s the first time we have ever had eager volunteers for sentry duty…thank you, sir.’ He nodded, stepping back and waving for the soldiers to let the Jaguar through, his face turning to the driver and pointing to the left, ‘Pull over next to the Land Rover…that’s our secretive little reference point for one of the side doors that the crew prefer…’ The officer stepped back, stiffening and saluting as the Jaguar moved forward slowly, the gravel of a new track crunching once more beneath the wide tyres of the lavish car.

  Admiral Karladen grinned to himself, the car pulling to a halt as he spoke softly, ‘You two men cannot disclose anything I say, can you?’

  The protection officer shook his head resolutely, ‘No sir…not a word…we have signed the official secrets act.’

  The admiral chuckled once more, rubbing his eyes in tiredness, ‘Very well…Trevakians are all vegetarians…your Royal Marines are now on the most nutritionally valued vegetarian diet we could devise…the flavours based on your internet are exquisite as you will soon experience!’ He burst out laughing at the wide shocked eyes before him, glimpsing them in the rear view mirror, ‘You will soon sample our offerings gentlemen…’

  The wide, dull grey lower outer door slowly swung upwards, low lights illuminating the grass and trees outside as the protection officers stared on in awe, mechanical whirring from the electronics and motors as stairs lowered slowly. The Jaguar driver shook his head as he saw the two lines of immaculate blue uniforms against either silver glimmering wall inside, his eyes straining in disbelief as the fields or Osterley Park extended on either side of the open doorway, the remainder of the ship invisible.

  As the stairs came to rest against the gravel beneath and the upper door rose completely, seventy boots slammed together inside, an honour guard of ships’ crew welcoming their commanding officer back to his ship, clenched right fists rising in unison to their left chests in salute.

  Admiral Karladen straightened his tunic, removing an officer’s cap from his epaulette and placing it meticulously on his head. He smiled warmly at the emotional attachment to the cloaked vessel, remembering his command seat and bridge crew fondly that he had not seen for some time, the six special protection officers behind still staring on in wide eyed amazement, their pupils retracting in the light.

  Two familiar silhouettes approached along the dimly lit corridor, the crew on either side staring ahead blankly as Karladen’s eyes moistened, two fingers rising to pinch the bridge of his nose as he climbed one step, his voice trembling as he nodded in recognition to the two figures that reached the top of the stairs, ‘Permission to
come aboard, gentlemen?’ His tired, flushed face grinned as he stiffened, the right fist rising to his left chest, ‘Sky Commander Petaski and Vice Admiral Chergui, I presume?’

  Chergui stepped into the low inner door lights, his slim body stiffening and saluting, ‘Admiral…it is our pleasure to welcome you back…’

  He stepped aside as a beaming Petaski nudged the Vice-Admiral playfully, ‘Admiral Karladen…please come aboard sir…the bridge crew have refreshments waiting and we have a confidential urgent briefing for you to attend.’ He coughed as Chergui stifled a grin, ‘The Vice Admiral only reached us early yesterday…he seems tired from his long trip…perhaps not as young as he used to be.’

  Karladen shook his head, climbing the steps and grinning as he glimpsed Chergui attempt to conceal a glare, ‘Petaski…you rogue, have you forgot I have read your file…you scoundrels were both at flight school together. I want none of your nonsense and want to know what is the true picture…’ He hesitated, turning and gesturing for the armed protection officers behind to follow, ‘Please extend every hospitality to my bodyguards…’ He reached the summit of the steps, his lower lip trembling as he stared along the two lines of loyal staff, some struggling to conceal smiles, his voice rising, ‘I am happy to return to a loyal crew…thank you for your welcome.’

  Having walked between two lines of vessel staff stood to attention, the group then progressed past lines of uniformed marines, the last seventy Trevakian armed guards of the ship slamming boots together as their commander approached, many failing to hide grins of anticipation, a love and respect of the decorated, long serving commander high.

  Reaching the end of the lines, Admiral Karladen had slowed, his eyes straining as he recognised a figure stood to attention several metres ahead, the commander coughing as he approached, smiling widely, ‘Our public relations officer is still here? Dryden, how are you? Busy as ever I presume?’