Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) (6 page)

The Russian naval sentries braced their bodies against the frozen searing gale, snowflakes swirling around their hunched figures as they stamped their feet, the bitter night temperature seeping through their greatcoats and padded combat uniforms. With thick leather gloves and facial masks, they trudged along the sea wall of the naval base, their eyes occasionally straying across onto the thick ice beneath the dense stone and steel structure.

The sentries would walk a route along the outer wall for approximately twelve minutes, then spend another twelve in the heated guard blocks, rotating through the upper observation post, the extreme exposed temperature outside now lowering further below minus twenty-three degrees centigrade. After the respite, they would patrol the inner, more sheltered area of the base for a further twelve to fifteen minutes before returning to the next guard block and then repeating the process after another warming break. Four squads totalling forty-eight soldiers in all, rotating their duties through the bitter night temperatures.

The most exposed walk along the upper wall was the least popular, soldiers spaced equally apart, sounds of the wind whistling around the walls and the thick ice below shifting and cracking under the elements, the only sound for company. Talking outside was not permitted in the lowest of temperatures, the soldiers barely able to hear each other, but also an identified key loss of body heat.

In the guard blocks, the naval infantry were permitted to smoke, warm soup and stew provided for nourishment, their bodies burning calories at an accelerated rate in the bitter temperature. The sentry duty would last eight or twelve hours, the soldiers eagerly gathering together in the morning for a hearty breakfast with a generous ration of Vodka before retiring to their quarters in bleary eyed exhaustion.

When not at sea, a proportion of a refitting or resupplying Russian Baltic Fleet sat in the docks behind the thick sea wall, sturdy steel gates permitting entry and exit when open, a narrow channel maintained through the thick blockages by the resident navy ice breaking vessel, one of the sturdiest in the world. The submarines in their pens and ships would now rotate duties, from the far north in the Arctic Circle, to St Petersburg, then further south into the Mediterranean to join the Black Sea Fleet based at Sevastopol with another deep sea naval port on the Syrian coastline.

The ice shifting and cracking was a sound the sentries had become more than accustomed to, some even embracing the chilling echo as a personal closeness to nature’s harshness and respected invincibility. The dense solidified water sometimes became up to four or six feet thick against the outer wall, the upper ice now complete with razor wire and movement sensors to prevent approach across the surface, automated lighting systems and ground radar having been added in the last few years.

In the dark forbidding, freezing, almost slurried dense water beneath the ice, the movement and current was restricted due to the extreme temperature. The ice above, cracking and splintering due to the violent pressure of compression and movement was thick this night, the elements and clear night sky with sparklingly bright stars having been below freezing for days.

Several cold water fish swept across the lower surface of the ice, their scaled shapes casting eerie shadows against the cracked and solidified water above as they shot away startled. The water swirled, the ice cracking deeply once more as pressure to the lower surface broke into small air pockets, bubbles shifting on the underwater current and movement like dispersed liquid mercury swayed in the darkness.

A dark armoured fist stretched upwards through the gloom, feeling along the lower side of the dense surface as more fish darted away in natural fear. More thickly armoured fists joined the first, several long metallic objects thrust upwards into the lower gaps in the thick surface, the cylinders primed and intense heat searing from the tips. The ice began to splinter, melting under the overwhelming warmth as the spear like devices pushed up towards the surface and through the shattering layers.

Gradually the thin cylinders reached the top of the ice, breaking through into the air above and then surging backwards, the sides heating and melting the solidified water between the small crevices, slowly creating a hole in the frozen blockage as the centre obstruction was heaved downwards, discarded to the side and drifting slowly away in the undercurrent.

Tall muscular figures swept through the narrow opening from below, a small pulse disorientating and disengaging the surface movement sensors and ground radar to either side as a black and white camouflaged helmet breached the water’s surface in the tunnel. Iced shards hung from the frozen armour as the first figure emerged silently, crouching by the protective sea wall as more and more silhouettes clambered onto the frozen ice.

The first figures’ alloy protective boots slipped into the upward frozen surface, climbing stealthily up the wall, the tiny jagged blades on the external armour adding grip to the armoured gloves as the figures ascended. As the lead Morgon grenadier reached the top of the wall, the camouflaged helmet turned slowly, checking on the progress of nearly fifty others, the eyes glowing in anticipation, their armour covered in frosted ice as they climbed, more shadowy figures emerging below.

Confident of adequate numbers, weapons were retrieved from the catchments within back armour carefully and silently, the lead helmet nodding and clicking slightly to either side as the bodies thrust upwards, slipping over the razor wire on top of the wall and dropping below.

The helmet spun round, looking into the dumbstruck eyes of the Russian sentry before it, his cold body slow to react in the shock as an armoured fist closed round his neck, the wheezing of a closed wind pipe as the spine cracked. To the right, another gripping armoured fist shattered the jaw and upper face of the sentry as he slumped backwards, bone fragments piercing his brain, a muffled squeal the man’s dying sound as blood pumped out across the ice.

The armoured powerful bodies surged along the top of the wall, a burst of Russian gunfire finally alerting the other naval infantry to enemy presence as many cold bodies were simply overwhelmed. The armoured guard room doors sprung open, the Russians met with silent pulse grenades and flashing blades as they tried to resist, most thrown backwards as their bodies broke and shattered against obstructions. Many falling before they fired a shot against the Morgon elite infantry.

The black and white armoured infantry poured over the walls as sporadic gunfire broke out around the naval base, the slumbering Russian defenders delayed by donning protective clothing against the elements, many still tasting vodka in their throats from the night before.

A siren slowly began to sound, the alarm cut short as the command block door was blown open, two sentries killed instantly in the blast as the remaining naval personnel tried to face their attackers. The watch was overwhelmed, the navy officers cut down by slashing razor sharp blades as they desperately attempted to defend themselves, blood spurting across the cement walls and glass partitions as their bodies were hacked to pieces.

The Morgon commander finally stood over the naval officer that had successfully started the siren, his human eyes widening in terror as his body was lifted by one armoured hand from the dark floor of the command bunker, his legs kicking out as the Morgon threw him across the room in displeasure. His right arm snapped as the man screamed on impact with the bunker wall, ribs cracking as he slipped down the cold surface, muffled gunfire echoing in his ears as he heard the crack of sharp steel against the cement. His eyesight became confused and disorientated, blackness followed by bright light, his limbs seeming to ache intensely as the room swirled. Finally, his eyesight steadied, an inhuman shriek echoing his ears as he stared at the blood soaked, alien camouflaged figure stood above him against the wall, a decapitated body lying at the iced armoured feet. Slowly the light and vision faded from his dulling eyes as the oxygen drained from his brain, a final desperate and futile realisation the headless body some five feet away was his own.

The numerous burning torches flickered across the golden sands, the swirling silhouettes dancing wildly in the darkness as the music blared across the small island, numerous DJs playing differing tracks around the outskirts, lights flashing from their mobile generator-powered disco sets. The musical choice for the revellers varied along the long beach that encircled the island with retro tracks in selected parts, fast electronic and moving beats in others and chill music towards the centre as clinging couples disappeared slowly between the palm trees and lush vegetation seeking seclusion.

Cannabis, Cocaine, Ecstasy and Crystal Meth were readily available for the thousands of party goers, the local Thai suppliers arriving on the island by small boats after dark to avoid police attention, aware the young male and female tourists and locals would now be dancing and partying throughout the night…a captive audience. Most of the revellers were eager customers, inhibitions lowering as the alcohol and drugs began to pulse through their bloodstreams, pupils dilating and sexual urges rising as they naively sought the experience of a lifetime.

Tony Shelley lay back in the sand, his mind beginning to swirl as he drew deeply on the joint, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he raised his Asahi beer, swigging greedily from the neck of the bottle. His bronzed skin felt warm from the day’s sun, sand in his matted blonde hair as his thoughts spiralled, considering how relaxed he was…at calm with the world. The intense beauty of Thailand and the people seeming a million miles from his university degree course in Cambridge, the stresses of Britain having begun to drift away when they landed in Bangkok just over a week ago.

At nineteen, he was a similar age to most of the couple of thousand revellers on the beach and in the inland ferns and bushes, most having made their way to the remote island throughout the morning and afternoon, the invitations provided by word of mouth in the local clubs and bars over the last few days. Running his tongue across his teeth, he swallowed the cool beer, tasting the tinge of cocaine across his tongue as his mood mellowed further. Next to him, his best friend, Peter Jacobs stirred, poking him in the ribs playfully.

Tony glanced round, seeing the shadow of his friends face rise over him, the eighteen-year old’s matted black hair glistening in the moonlight and from the flickering torches as he grinned widely at him, ‘You’re stoned!’

Peter giggled in response, reaching out and carefully taking the joint from Tony’s fingers, ‘Not as stoned as I am gonna get mate!’ The face disappeared as Peter lay back, drawing on the rolled cigarette deeply, his voice strained as he spoke, ‘Shall we chill for a while, then go and get some more stuff and find a couple of girls…? I want some more coke…’

Tony grinned, staring up at the black sky, the sparkling stars seeming breathtakingly beautiful across the heavens, his bleary eyes moistening with emotion as he took in the glorious sight. Laughter from nearby and the pounding music swirled around them, a couple running playfully past as the male youth shouted in Spanish after his girlfriend, the two lovers looking for a more secluded spot on the beach.

Peter coughed slightly, drawing again on the cigarette and raising himself onto one elbow, his deep brown eyes glancing blearily across the beach to his left. The numerous dancers writhed around the flames and torches, several beach fires adding to the scene as flames and sparks swept upwards through the smoke, the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand causing him to smile. He glanced back at Tony, ‘This is so cool here…I could live here I think…it’s far better than Britain!’

His friend let out a short laugh, swigging from his beer again as he rose next to him, ‘We may have no choice…the flights are all cancelled for now. Can you believe what happened in Europe? That’s really wild man! You think we will ever get home?’

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, ‘Who cares…there are worse places to get stuck in…it’s good all that shit is over now though. The papers say the aliens got chewed up pretty bad…they probably won’t mess with earth again bud! Good job too, I didn’t want to get called up…’ He smiled faintly as he saw three girls lower themselves onto the sand nearby, their young slim tanned figures supplemented by limited swimwear that pleased him, his body surging with pleasure. He nodded lustfully as one smiled politely and warmly towards him, his voice lowered to a whisper to Tony, ‘I think I have just found us some company…’ He nudged his friend before rising slowly to a crouch, ‘Fancy a shag mate? I think they do…or will soon!’

The black armoured helmet rose slowly through the surface of the water, red eyes scanning the beach some four hundred metres ahead. Hundreds of shadowy silhouettes were dancing against the light from the flames, the young bodies writhing and moving with the strange sounds that blared out from behind. Distant coloured flashing lights reflected off the dull armour plate, more heads rising from the surf on either side to stare at the spectacle ahead.

The helmet turned slowly, silver lines etched against the alloy armour as a clicking voice resounded across the risen helmets, the red eyes glowing in anticipation as the hushed commands were issued. There was ample food and specimens available ahead, most prey seeming unable to resist effectively…no weapons were detected.

The armoured helmets gradually lowered back beneath the frothing surf, razor sharp blades extending across the alloy arms and wrists as over one hundred and fifty muscled and powerful bodies swam slowly forward, the large group splitting into three smaller sections.

Peter lowered himself next to one of the teenage girls, indicating for Tony to do the same on the other side, the females giggling in nervous excitement. The black haired eighteen-year-old smiled widely, his eyes flashing in the flickering light as he offered out two rolled cigarettes, ‘These will help you relax…enjoy the party more.’ He nodded approvingly as the girls willingly took the rolled cigarettes, extending his zippo lighter as they raised them to their lips, ‘I am Peter and this is my friend Tony…so where are you girls from? We saw you at one of the bars earlier in the week I think?’

The blonde girl in the centre grinned, taking the lit joint from her friend, ‘We are from Denmark and Holland…are you guys British?’

Tony grinned widely, his excitement rising as he swallowed nervously, swigging from his beer to wash the strange taste from his mouth, his nose sniffing instinctively. The girl next to him glanced furtively round at him, her blue eyes soft and wide as she smiled welcomingly, her voice a seductive whisper, ‘Have you got anything else for me?’

Tony’s blue eyes widened in surprise, his tongue running over his lips and teeth again as he saw Peter wink across at him, ‘S-sure…what would you like? I have some left…shall we go for a walk?’ His eyes widened further as the Dutch girl rose to her feet, her blonde hair sweeping across narrowed and pleasing features, her supple body tanned as he stared open mouthed, sniffing again as he struggled upwards.

Peter leant forward, dropping a small bag of white powder between the two remaining girls’ thighs, his voice almost slurred with excitement, ‘Shall we go and have a walk too, ladies?’

The teenage girl grabbed his hand, pulling Tony back towards the top of the beach as she giggled, her voice low, ‘You are very nervous…your hands are trembling. Let’s see if we can make you more relaxed for the night…’ They jogged towards the trees, Tony’s heart rate rising dramatically as they neared the darkened undergrowth, the lights from the fires and torches casting shadows through the trees into the brush beyond as the girl tugged him forward laughing.

The black armoured figure rose from the waves, salt water glistening as it cascaded from the alloy exoskeleton protection. More figures emerged behind, their eyes glowing red as they stepped forward slowly.

The first body stood nearly seven feet tall as metal boots sank into the sand beneath the water, the liquid surging around the muscled legs as the commander strode forward. The nearest dancers turned, their eyes widening as the armoured frame stepped onto the beach, seeing the numerous red dots glowing, almost glimmering out in the darkness, their dulled senses unable to comprehend the meaning.

A muscled reveller stepped forward grinning, his bleary eyes taking in the frame and hand rising to point as a couple of dancers further up the beach backed away nervously, ‘Nice suit dude…you want a spliff?’ The Australian smiled widely, approaching the figure as others stared on wide eyed, the black helmet lowering at an angle to seemingly inspect the human.

‘You not talking?’ The toned and tanned figure stepped nearer, glancing over his shoulder at the dancers behind for reassurance as his nervousness rose slightly with suspicion. He looked back, the eyes before him glowing red as his footing became slower, a low crackle coming from the helmet as the armoured head rose again.

They stood for a second, some two metres apart, the Australian staring wide eyed at the large frame before him, his muscled stomach tensing as uneasiness gradually filled his body, ‘You ok?’

The armoured figure suddenly lunged forward, a muscled back arm crashing against the Australian’s torso, a sickening crunch as ribs shattered and the blades swept through the young man’s upper body, slicing across tendons and muscles as a scream echoed out. Blood spurted across the armour and sands, the Australian staggering backwards from the blow, his eyes widening in horror. The black armour moved swiftly, a second armoured fist grasping the Australian’s throat before he fell, the grip closing like a vice as the scream was cut short, bones cracking as the youth’s spine disintegrated under the pressure, the body going limp.

The nearest girl screamed, the limp body lifted into the night air and tossed aside as several more dancers turned to run in panic. The lead armoured figure’s head rose up, the light flickering off the lines in the helmet, an inhuman shriek filling the beach as other dancers further along the sand stopped suddenly. Their eyes strained as they glimpsed the many strange piercing red glows out in the water, then terror filled their bodies as more loud shrill shrieks filled the air, the armoured bodies stepping forward into the light and advancing towards the beach.

The revellers that stood transfixed in terror whimpered as armoured fists rose to helmeted necks, removing long double edged bladed weapons from inside their back protective plate, the razor sharp alloy flashing in the light from the flames. Screams filled the long beach as the armoured figures hesitated in unison to stare in relish…absorbing the fear…most of the scantily clad humans fleeing in panic from the water. A couple of people ran in blind terror straight into the fires, their bodies rolling in agony as flames swept across their flesh, searing sun burnt skin as others scrambled past oblivious, their bare feet slipping across the golden sands in desperation.

Several of the party goers simply lowered themselves onto the sand in despondent defeat, their human chests shaking uncontrollably as they wept in terror. They had heard more inhuman high pitched shrieks filling the air all around the island…there was no escape…it was pointless to run.