Information streamed across the display screens in the lower command bunker of Area 51, dull red recessed flashing lights surging in the ceiling of the wide room, staff sergeant Louis Estevez’s eyes widening in shock as the numbers of incoming vessels were confirmed, his voice rising in alarm, ‘General Denton…Sir! Upwards of one hundred enemy craft are approaching our location…rapidly. A seeming assault run with a small flight high above…the higher wave is forming into four formations.’ He glanced across at the CCTV screens, flicking his nimble fingers across the keyboard to project the images onto the large screen before the operators.
The grainy pictures flickered briefly, then cleared, several images flourishing into colour as the senior officer leant forward intently from the darkness, scrutinising the extensive screen. Six pictures became defined, one drawing the attention of all, the view from inside the outer collection area, US camouflaged marines running and stumbling into the upper steel cladded corridors from the dull light outside, an infantry major at the entrance frantically beckoning his troops into the outer assembly room. Grim grey reinforced outer doors began to slowly close on either side as the desperately sprinting soldiers sought safety through the gradually narrowing opening from their outer sentry and defensive positions.
General Denton rose slowly from his darkened seat, his black features straining in escalating apprehension, a voice rising in fear, ‘Reinforce the doors…get everyone that can be reached inside.’ He drew a sudden sharp breath, ‘Activate the remote Gatling guns and missile batteries outside…as I said, we will defend this base to the death…there is now no other option.’ He sniffed ironically as the operators glanced round in worry, their faces concealed with the lights of screens behind, ‘The enemy may enter our Area 51, but not many will leave…I want every corridor defended, every junction booby trapped…we will retreat level by level if need be.’ The general leant forwards into a dull shaft if light, indicating to Estevez, ‘Have all engineers commence their contingency preparations…maximum defensive measures. The lower four subterranean floors will be turned into fortresses……our last position, an Alamo. This room the centre defensive command, weapons to be issued to all screeners…we may all have to fight, so let’s make ready.’ He glanced across the operators grimly, ‘With immediate effect, all experiments and research is to be postponed…any prototype weapons to be deployed with their teams in the defence of this facility.’
The large Morgon attack formation swept onwards, red projected cockpit displays guiding the pilots as they checked instruments and adjusted altitude. Tracers suddenly swept upwards from the low heavily compacted cement and steel reinforced buildings in the distance, sparks flying across the hulls of the dark and grey craft as they bounced on turbulence, the remotely operated defensive Gatling guns spewing high calibre velocity bullets upwards as the air seemed filled with glowing projectiles.
The flame plumes of numerous rockets surged upwards from the dull dust filled terrain, several from hidden or concealed barren mountain and the lower boulder strewn side landscape as low batteries rose from the ground and spun round on their bases to aim at the craft overhead, the red marked helmeted Morgon overall commander shrieking urgent commands across the airwaves.
The pilots desperately flicked black armoured gloves across glowing touch sensitive controls, armoured helmets turning from side to side to monitor the screen readouts as further shrieks filled their inner headsets. Bright blue pulsing flares and other activated nano destructive debris swept from the front and rear of the Morgon craft, the clanks and sparks of high velocity rounds bouncing off the exterior armoured plate, the vessels accelerating further.
The flares surged and burst downwards, twisting and flickering to disrupt the missile targeting devices, the soaring projectiles streaking upwards. Explosions filled the air, the first salvo of missiles erupting and detonating, the distant air filling with black flaming smoke and fire as the controllers in Area 51 stared at the viewing screens above, tracers from Gatling guns spewing out above the camera mounts as they strained their eyes, the sky seeming on fire as further puffs of dark smoke obscured vision completely.
Then dark craft swept through the swirling smoke, the transport vessels behind, laser guns extending from black wings as the crackling commenced along the sleek hulls, the operators glancing at each other in dread as Louis shouted from his console in alarm, ‘High altitude craft are beginning some sort of dive…velocity increasing…’ His voice rose with adrenalin and fear, ‘They are now virtually directly above us!’
The Morgon craft buffeted and bounced on the shock waves, nine struggling to remain airborne after sustaining damage, black puffs of smoke coming from their engines and outer armour, the pilots shrieking in frustrated hatred as the vessels slowed or banked away crippled. Five sustained perforated hulls, the armoured soldiers inside tensing for a crash landing, most instinctively linking arms as the pilots took manual control and peeled away from the attack formation, wind tearing through the interior holds as overhead ammunition boxes and supply sacks fell from the racks.
The damaged vessels gradually lost altitude, dark burning fire billowing from damaged engines, burning lubricant and debris. Emergency flaps deployed, rear and underbelly thrusters screeching and whining, three of the craft losing control as the computerised networks shorted, the vessels twisting sideways and then plummeting to earth.
Acrid black plumes of smoke billowed upwards with roaring flames as they smashed into the ground, broken craft and body parts thrown across the desolate terrain as shattered vessels tumbled and rolled across the burning debris strewn earth, eventually coming to a halt against boulders or in depressions, several heavily wounded scorched soldiers eventually crawling from the wreckages.
The other six damaged vessels performed improvised crash landings, two bursting into flames as leaking lubricants and engine fluid ignited on impact, the rear hold doors forced down in whining emergency release for smouldering stunned black and camouflaged infantry to stumble out. Emerging into the billowing dust, several collapsed from the shock and damage to their scaled armoured bodies, leaving their incapacitated comrades inside the burning and roaring infernos.
Loud mechanical screams escalated from above, the black Morgon dive bombers accelerating from high altitude and surging into high clouds, the red sparkling eyes of rear targeting technicians of the dual crews scrutinising targeting consoles intently, the pilots running armoured gloves across the sensory controls.
Twelve newly deployed black craft swept downwards, bursting through the thick cloud cover, the pilots listening to streaming reports of the invasion from their Decimator warship above, the occasional order from the attack run below surging through their headsets as the vessels accelerated further.
Formed into four waves, the differing specialist sections manoeuvred into an almost vertical dive, the low distant reinforced buildings of Area 51 appearing below as the pilots increased speed further, tracers beginning to sweep upwards as black puffs of smoke from automatic anti-air cannon burst before them.
The lead four rear flight technicians adjusted trajectories, the bomber sights edging to target four separate dull grey roof sections, one the reinforced air conditioning systems, another the water purifying bunker, then the outer steel doors and rear underground transit system.
The first four mechanical screams intensified, the black craft sweeping down further as they moved slowly apart, the buildings becoming bigger and gradually filling the forward screens, releasing their ordinance before sweeping off to the south, streams of water vapour and dust behind as the hulls screamed with dramatic atmospheric changes. The spinning three experimental bombs from each vessel landed with guided precision, the eruption of heat and high intensity explosive searing through the heavily reinforced steel and cement outer shell before detonating in the upper structures.
The defending US Marines on the ground floor fell to their knees as the steel walls seemed to shudder and shake violently, dust pouring fr
om the ceiling, the grinding of girders and screeching of metal causing them to look up in horror. The high powered detonations sent sonic shock waves through the rumbling structure, the reinforced defences cracking loudly as the second detonations shook the structures and electrical radiation pulses surged through the exposed damage and entering the underground network.
The soldiers glanced round in alarm as the roof lights surged and shattered, glass crunching under boots as several men lowered in apprehension, the deafening noise of screaming and tearing steel mixed with an intense aroma of burning as aggressive static surged along circuits, the electrics overwhelmed as they shorted and died.
Staff sergeant Louis Estevez’s eyes opened in horror as the screens abruptly flickered and went blank, the lights pulsing before going out, the control centre falling into a deep darkness. Struggling upwards from his seat, he swore in pain as his knee cracked against the desk, several of his colleagues hissing with startled whispers as they tapped forcefully on their keyboards in the encroaching gloom, the operators blinking furiously to accustom their sight.
General Denton rose abruptly to his feet, straining his eyes through the darkness, his voice rising in alarm, ‘Get it all back up…we need eyes and ears and quickly!’
A lighter flickered, two more clicking aflame and casting shadows across the control centre, Louis replying as he gasped, stumbling on the steps as he headed for the room’s contingency store, ‘Some sort of Electromagnetic pulse weapon I think general…they breached the outer defences before it went off!’ He drew a sharp breath as he fell to one knee…we may get an emergency circuit back if we are lucky, there are two isolated generators, but we will need to deploy them.’ Louis scrambled onwards in the dark, the black male controller from desk nine rising after his Puerto Rican boyfriend with a flickering raised Zippo lighter.
In the darkened corridors on the surface, steam and acrid smoke filled the black void passageways, sparks glimmering and spurting from overhead cabling above grating, the marines breaking into emergency wall cabinets for oil lamps and candles. Further rumbles from above indicated the dropping of new charges from the third wave, the troopers’ eyes straining through the dust filled gloom in suspicion as the muffled explosions seemed of far less ferocity. Collectively considering the enemy were targeting elsewhere in the large compound as oil lamps and candles flickered into life, the soldiers continued bringing forward ammunition boxes and strengthening makeshift barricades, an eerie shimmering glow spreading across the walls as the defenders lowered to stare cautiously towards the main entrance, their assault rifles rising nervously.
The last wave of Morgon fighter bombers swept away along the valley leading to the entrance, passing the lowering grey transports as the rear targeting technicians watched black fighters strafe the buildings ahead, the automated defences now disabled after the high intensity electromagnetic blast. Plumes of flame and black smoke spiralled upwards from before and between the battered compound buildings as helicopters, lorries, jeeps and armoured personnel carriers erupted and shattered, several spiralling into the dust filled air from the explosive power. The tall guard towers teetered or shook violently before collapsing downwards as high powered laser blasts smashed through them, several splintering and imploding as stored ammunition erupted.
Reaching the rear of the attack formation, the vessels banked sharply round, pulsing alarms echoing through the cockpits at high terrain warnings on either side, the dark menacing craft turning to commence a bombing run on the main steel entrance. Missiles housings gradually extended downwards from the black angled wings, escalating squeals of mechanics as the engineers stared at flashing targeting crosshairs.
The mechanical sirens screamed as the four craft shot forwards, transports landing on either side in the distance as dust billowed upwards, the black fighters now racing upwards on the horizon, twisting and banking to then spin round and offer patrolling upper air and interdiction support on the smouldering battlefield below.
The fourth wave surged onwards, the red sparkling eyes of the rear technicians glowing and widening in ultimate relish as they neared the target, the crosshairs projected above them flashing as armoured hands opened, plumes of fire erupting in the missiles below, the projectiles sweeping forward as the black vessels began to gradually gain altitude.
The specialist rockets smashed into the large steel reinforced front reinforced doors and surrounding sloped entrance building, heat and energy mixed with searing flames surging across the angled structure, black billowing smoke and roaring fire pouring across the pitted outer walls, the grinding and warping of steel deafening in the initial open low ceilinged compound storage and assembly area inside.
Forward marines and medics ducked down instinctively, the acrid aroma searing through cracked seams and almost overwhelming senses as several retched behind parked armoured vehicles, their countrymen grimly facing the main doors before them as smoke and dust poured downwards from grilled ducts above. Several crouched figures ran forward from the rear corridors to reinforce the forward guard units, heavy machine guns positioned behind sandbagged positions complimented by heavy calibre sniper riflemen on the upper walkways.
The ember filled billowing acrid smoke and burning dust gradually cleared across the assembly area, a muffled roar of the rocket bombers sweeping over the compound, the defending marines straining blinking blood shot eyes to look through the flaming shroud in dread towards the outer steel reinforced doors.
The US marines stared towards the obscured doors, their hearts pounding in rising horror as they considered the venomous and merciless enemy outside, several lowering in anguished anticipation. The dissipating black smoke slowly cleared, many soldiers gradually rising as the vision became more obvious, the inner doors remaining standing closed, if smouldering and slightly warped.
Hoarse cheers rose from the defenders as the shroud cleared, wisps hanging below the cracked cement, steel reinforced ceiling as the defenders slapped each other’s backs in immediate elation, a collective reasoning that the attackers would have to force their way into the facility.
An ominous silence slowly descended as the defenders grinned in relief, several lowering in grim exhaustion behind their defensive barriers as further dust drifted silently downwards from the steel lined grills above. Then several of the helmeted marines stiffened, glancing upwards with suspicious expressions, the reinforced steeled cement above grinding and screeching faintly as others began to raise their rifles in a renewed horrified dread.
The grinding and clanking continued, a seeming progression of muffled faint tiny accumulative metallic footsteps as the defenders stared up at dancing illuminations across the mesh ducts, the candles and oil lamps seeming to dim momentarily as the clattering became louder.
Then liquid seemed to cascade downwards from several locations across the wide area, the splashes below sweeping outwards as human minds struggled to understand the lack of a natural sound of water, the unnatural chinks and metallic bouncing of heated induced nano droids defying any instinctive belief of what should have been heard as the tiny flesh seeking robots swept outwards seeking their prey.
Little did the horrified defending marines realise, the explosive heat of the rockets had not been to pierce the outer doors, but instead activate the small dormant enemies already within the structure from a previous penetrative blast.
Morgon engineers and grenadiers were advancing unopposed through the swirling dust outside with high powered armoured piercing explosive satchels…shrieking in relish as they sensed the human terror behind the scorched doors nearby…only when the first defences were overwhelmed would the outer doors be breached.
Alone in Death Valley
The motorcycle engine burbled as Brad dropped a gear, heavy dust clouds from the devastation further west and the rocky and unforgiving terrain billowing around his slim muscular leather clad figure, a scarf tied tightly across his mouth beneath the red helmet and darkened visor.
Progress w
as slow and demoralising, the silhouettes of an occasional abandoned or burning vehicle emerging through the murk as his nervousness heightened, a realisation that someone or something could be hidden nearby chilling his frame, cold perspiration glistening across his chest beneath the riding leathers. The shadows of mountains rose up on either side, bushes and the occasional lone leafless tree adding to the despair of loneliness and the desolate surroundings, his proactive plan to provide forward reconnaissance now regretted as the danger attached to Brad’s mission became brutally apparent.
The rider weaved between abandoned and burning cars, flames flickering trough the swirling dirt, the wind seeming to drag at his tensed frame, his heart pounding in anticipation, the road deserted apart from a number of slumped or charred bodies as he attempted to avert his eyes. Considering the enemy had moved before them filled him with dread…sooner or later they would probably meet.
Occasionally, the muffled whirr or drone of craft would pass overhead and above the dust clouds, the young lifeguard considering all were probably alien vessels, the destroyed or obliterated cars and campers having been hit by devastatingly accurate laser fire from the dark vessels. He would occasionally stop for the pickup truck and green station wagon to catch up, longing for the faint sound of engines just before they approached, the helmet turning from side to side to study the billowing shrouds in apprehension as he kept the bike engine burbling, a hand resting nervously on the grip of a pistol tucked into his jacket, the assault rifle strung across his back.
The older Benjamin had regularly provided grim realistic encouragement to all on Brad’s numerous stops, advising the bewildered and stunned ladies, children and younger man that the devastation they had experienced was only natural in such a deteriorating situation and that the unfortunate victims and their smouldering or shattered vehicles were a distraction that allowed them to live…that the enemy was passing by above, considering the humans below were already dead…thus allowing their small group to survive and hide amongst the recently deceased.
Planet Genocide II: Galaxies Collide 5: Onslaught Page 22