Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) (24 page)

The bearded stout landlord smiled widely as the battleship commander indicated opposite, ‘Please seat the lady and her husband first…they have assisted us considerably this day…’

The man nodded obediently, his voice subservient, ‘Of course, Sir…so silly of me…’ He walked briskly round the table, pulling the chair outwards as Sally smiled in gratitude, her figure lowering into the seat as her husband sat next to her, moving the pints of beer politely towards the Trevakian guests.

Chergui indicated to Azhan as he sat opposite the black haired lady, handing his rifle to the security officer, ‘Place the weapons on the floor…remove the ammunition magazines for safety…’

Azhan nodded, ‘Yes Sir…’ His eyes moving to the humans opposite, an embarrassed smile forming on his face as he disarmed the assault rifles. Lowering himself into the seat next to his commander, he grinned, glancing round as the landlord strode back into the room, meticulously placing large menus before the four guests, his face beaming in satisfaction.

The grey bearded man stood back, clearing his throat, ‘We have a wide variety of dishes on offer…may I suggest the steak, a quite substantial cut supplemented with a French mustard sauce, a choice of potatoes, soaked red wine mushrooms and spinach?’

Vice-Admiral Chergui smiled politely, ‘Thank you, but the Trevakian race are vegetarians…I believe your steak is formed from the flesh of an animal…something we do not believe in, but also is not complimentary to our body process…even the food we have prepared after studying your recipes on the ‘internet’ is of a vegetable protein…’ He grinned widely, ‘Most of our troops and ship marines require the additional energy from the food and have become somewhat addicted to the flavours, they love the variety we have been able to produce…the flavours synchronised with what we have read.’ He nodded to the lady opposite, her face flushing with slight embarrassment as his voice lowered, ‘We are slightly nervous as to enhance relations, so are not mentioning this to your personnel…they are eating protein food that is very tasteful, so we considered the absence of meat would not be a problem…do you think we were wrong?’

Nigel stared at the commander, his eyes widening, ‘It may cause some issues if they find out…’ He grinned incredulously, ‘Do you mind if I have the steak? It sounds fantastic?’

Chergui giggled briefly, waving his hand, ‘Not at all…we have no issue with our allies consuming meat, we just cannot provide it for you, nor kill animals for any reason…’ He sighed, still smiling, ‘Perhaps it is our origins, the animals are rare on many of the planets we garrison and even our home planet, so they are honoured…and their lives respected.’ He stared down at the menu, his eyes straining before looking up at the landlord expectantly, ‘What do you recommend for the lady and then us?’

Sally stared at the menu, her voice nervously low, ‘I am not a great eater…the organic chicken in white wine with green beans and caramelised honeyed onions for me please.’

The landlord nodded, smiling widely as he turned to the Trevakian officers, ‘Gentlemen, we have a treat for you…the chef is renowned for vegetarian cuisine, may I ask him to provide something special for you…he will love this ultimate challenge…but may I ask you provide him with your honest opinion afterwards…’ He grinned widely in anticipation, ‘The chef is very competitive and I cannot wait to tell him he is competing against a galaxy of vegetarian cooking…’

Azhan looked up, a wide smile forming on his face in pride, ‘Not just one galaxy sir…The Trevakian Empire currently extends across over six star systems and galaxies…’

As the landlord walked from the room, Nigel raised his glass in salute, ‘So Vice-Admiral…I realise you will be unable to divulge information about any ongoing war, but are you able to tell us anything about your past…your culture please?’

Vice-Admiral Chergui leant back in the chair, smiling warmly, ‘Well…I am a Trevakian fleet officer, with experience of several galaxies…our training is extensive at the academy and we are required to complete many missions and tours of duty before progressing.’ He grimaced slightly, ‘However this experience has been reduced as more and more personnel have been required. The vicious battles have hardened our individual motivation and created some outstanding personnel…’ He indicated to the security first officer next to him, ‘Both of us have served together for many years on the same vessel…the adventures have been numerous…’

Two hours later, several police cars pulled into the pub carpark, armed officers slipping from the doors and escorting the Trevakians to their vehicles. Several police officers saluted as the Vice-Admiral returned the gesture, a Superintendent shaking Chergui’s hand firmly, ‘We will place you in a hotel in central Sheffield tonight Sir, then provide an armed escort to London first thing in the morning.’

Vice-Admiral Chergui nodded, his voice low, ‘Well thank you officer…I have just one thing to attend to before we depart.’ He turned, stepping back towards the doors to the restaurant, his hand extending towards Sally and then Nigel, ‘Thank you for your hospitality and assistance, it has been most gratifying…you were my first experience of the human race and one that fills me with confidence for the future…’ He stiffened officially and spun round on his heels, hesitating briefly and looking back, ‘Please extend our satisfaction to the chef for his efforts…’ He turned back, marching towards the open police car door, the blue lights flashing across the gravel.

Sally sniffed, tears of emotion filling her eyes as Nigel squeezed her shoulder fondly, the police cars sweeping from the car park and accelerating off down the road into the darkness, their blue lights flashing. The couple slowly slipped silently back inside the restaurant, Nigel clearing his throat, ‘Come on my dear…let’s have a nice expensive bottle of wine and perhaps stay the night here…it’s not every day you get to be someone’s first contact with earth!’

Dolphins swam and chattered to each other through the cold waves of the Moray Firth, the expanse of water narrowing towards the Scottish Highland capital of Inverness. With a high state of alert in southern England, the Scots would occasionally stare up at the heavens nervously, the RAF fighter jets sweeping past on patrol from nearby bases at Lossiemouth and Kinloss, their low numbers reinforced with some silver Trevakian vessels as they scoured the skies for enemy aircraft.

The hotels and guest houses of the northern capital were full, tourists from the south deciding to partake in short respite holidays as their concerns for the future increased. The weather was mild for the time of year, many people enjoying the nearby tours of Loch Ness, the Culloden battlefield, Whisky trails and distilleries…the tour guides reporting excellent trade as tourists flocked in the evenings to the cinema and Eden Court Theatre. The many riverside restaurants and cafes were gaily lit to attract trade, their owners banking even more money than they did on the peak summer months.

With the absence of internet connection, families began to converse once more, their inoperable electronic devices discarded in the boots of cars as the northern golf courses and parks filled with boys and their fathers learning and practising new sports during the day. As the drinks flowed and people celebrated what little time there may be left of peace, bleak rumours began to spread of the enemy having reappeared above, exaggerated sightings of potential alien activity sending the authorities on wild chases across the countryside, the police and army investigating each and every report as instructed.

During the day, the streets of Inverness had been full of shoppers, the retail outlets selling everything from souvenirs and tartan emblems to full highland dress, the lack of internet service driving even the shyest and retiring of people into the hands of eager shopkeepers. With no service, the use of payment cards had resorted to methods used many years before, the swipe machines returning as people willingly went over their credit limits…these unchecked habits creating a mini shopping boom. Most considered the bills would perhaps arrive long after they cared about individual credit ratings or even the money owing.

There were now obvious changes to life, some of the tourists nodding in understanding as the world transformed around them, government emergency measures beginning to be seen amongst daily routine. Throughout the shopping centre and on the train station forecourt, army recruitment stalls began to be placed as it was across virtually every town and city, the regiments previously merged now reforming and gaining old identities, much to the pride and satisfaction of historians. Government legislation had been passed…and quickly…the unemployed and anyone seeking work immediately advised that they should report to the army recruitment soldiers at each local authority office.

Police ‘stop and search’ powers were enhanced, the stopping and questioning of anyone suitable for military or contributory service now permitted, the police ranks enhanced and nearly doubled by the call up of all volunteers and special constables. The reserve army or territorials were now all called up, staff disappearing virtually overnight from their workplaces as their suits or work clothes were swapped for camouflaged uniforms, rifles held instead of pens and laptops.

As darkness fell that night across northern Scotland, many looked to the heavens, a spectacular display of shooting stars and lights causing people to gasp in awe. People spilled from bars and restaurants or stared from their hotel room windows at the impressive spectacle of glowing lights. All innocently unaware that this was debris burning against the outer atmosphere, the remains of the world’s satellites and two destroyed Trevakian protection vessels being incinerated under intense heat.

Police and military observers stared upwards through binoculars, the more senior officers clenching their teeth in irritation and foreboding as they understood the meaning of the display. Then several began to stiffen in alarm, the distant glows being supplemented by high flashing lights, the dots sweeping across the darkness and heading east.

Tourists and residents of the northern city glanced round in alarm as a low wail began to fill the cool night air, the sirens escalating to screams of warning as the north of Scotland moved to full military alert. Gradually people disappeared back inside, the light show forgotten as fear overcame curiosity…something was coming.

The lights progressed across the sky, RAF fighters scrambling with the silver Trevakian craft and soaring upwards, some of the residents of coastal villages beginning to load their possessions into vehicles and start their cars. Black Morgon fighters swept downwards, beginning to engage the human jets in vicious dogfights as the flashing lights continued above, passing the north eastern coastline of Scotland and progressing out into the North Sea.

The grey dropships began to descend, circling and weaving low across the cold sea, their pilots checking targeting coordinates on their flight screens. As the screens flashed the proximity and directional markings, the craft swept onwards into the darkness, heading further out from the coastline, the lights of towns and villages becoming further away until only pitch darkness showed through the cockpit windows.

Slowly darkened structures began to appear in the distance, seeming to rise up out of the waves and surf, the angular frames reaching into the night, the pilots staring at their screens as they neared their pre-determined assignments.

Tracer fire erupted from the structures, the bright lights sweeping towards the small craft as soldiers manned their defensive guns. Bullets clanked off the protective hulls, sparks flying in the darkness as the transports flew on, their defensive lasers crackling beneath as the targeting systems sought out the flak guns in the distance.

As the transports swept past the structures, several lasers shot down onto the oil rigs, their high energy bolts exploding against the defensive guns and decks as the defensive soldiers returned fire, the dim lights of the drilling platforms and crew quarters cut as warning claxons sounded across the rigs. Crew members scrambled from their bunks, running half-dressed to muster stations, collecting arms and ammunition and darting out to their assigned posts.

The transports circled once more, tracers and bullets clanking off their hulls as the pilots and co-pilots stared out, attempting to glimpse the large ‘H’ that would indicate a helicopter landing pad. Flames spurted from the numerous defensive SAM missile batteries, the rockets sweeping out towards the incoming and circling craft as their crews frantically prepared new projectiles.

Bright explosions lit up the darkness, the rockets detonating against numerous transport craft, the damaged vessels crashing into the freezing surf as injured and able bodied Morgons frantically opened the vessels’ doors, their armoured frames plunging into the ice cold salt water and beginning to swim towards the dark structures.

Several Morgon fighters screamed from above, laser fire raking the structures as walls of fire rose and billowed into the air, more missiles chasing after their prey through the darkness, a spurt of steam and flame in the wakes of the projectiles.

One transport swept downwards, levelling and beginning to lower onto a helicopter platform, the side doors sliding upwards as Morgon shock troops readied to disembark. The structure erupted beneath as the defensive commander detonated the protective explosives, the vessel disappearing in fire as the large landing pad disintegrated and toppled sideways, falling into the surf below.

The remaining transports swept down below the platforms, hovering above the surf as their armoured soldiers jumped into the freezing water, their weapons attached to their rear plate as they swam towards the oil rig legs, armoured fists grasping protective netting and steel and heaving the Morgon bodies upwards.

One by one the defences were overwhelmed, soldiers and rig workers hacked to pieces in vicious hand to hand combat. No prisoners were taken…the few men that attempted to give up cut down as they shouted and begged for mercy, the Morgons realising their vengeance.

Small bands of men barricaded themselves into accommodation blocks and engineering workshops, their hiding places destroyed with pulse grenades or close quarter combat. Some barricaded blocks were simply set alight, the Morgon shock troops relishing the screams of the burning men as oil and fuel was tossed onto the fires.

The few workers and soldiers that escaped were hunted for sport across the oil platforms, their terrified cries as the hungry pursuers closed in spurring any other survivors to the most desperate measures. Several flung themselves into the North Sea in terror, the freezing cold water allowing survival for up to a minute before core body temperatures dropped too far, the heads of the swimmers slowly sinking below the swell as their limbs refused to support their weight any longer.

The ones that drowned were lucky, several other bedraggled survivors dragged back to the platforms and lined on the helidecks, their freezing bodies tossed into the back of transports as they landed, limbs snapping and brutally removed by vengeful sharpened blades as if part of a game.

As the transport doors closed, the screams heightened, several small gruesome oil gowned figures stepping from forward compartments, their hands brandishing flashing blades and instruments of seeming torture as they advanced on the defenceless men.

By early morning light, the majority of North Sea oil rigs were in Morgon hands, dark angular transports delivering heavy weaponry and guns to the new occupiers. The helmeted red eyes turned to look south west as amphibious walkers were unloaded and tethered to the rig legs, the transports flying continuously to drop off additional soldiers and more weaponry.

One hundred miles to the south west, the residents of Aberdeen, Peterhead and other coastal towns watched in growing dread as the enemy craft descended and flew far out to sea, the RAF and Trevakian fighters now competing in a war of attrition over land, their fighter strength insufficient to venture beyond the safety of the shoreline.

Some people stared into the murky water, considering what was concealed in the depths, a high number having earnt a valuable income from deep water fishing, most now too afraid to even paddle or venture to the harbour outskirts. Boats lay idle, the fishing harbours full of vessels that could no longer work or voyage out to sea, the prospects of the local economy beginning to look bleak as army recruitment posts sprung up in every village, providing too much temptation for many of the impatient fishing crews, without work for nearly two weeks.

Most now realised the economy was transforming rapidly, that the nation was adopting a more military standing through necessity…and for survival.