The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy) (43 page)

Martin nodded that he understood. Not all of them were fanatics. Some of them would not even follow these particular orders for money. There still remained some with principals, with loyalty to the Controller, even though he now lay dead.

"How many of you are there?" He handed the flask back, his nerves beginning to calm.

"Twenty, maybe thirty in the Terramarine Corp., scattered about." The soldier shrugged. "I’ve no idea how many other sections feel as we do."

"No matter." Martin's mind was racing now. He didn’t think it possible to stop the invasion fleet, it would be too close, but perhaps something could be done to make it harder for them. He found he had an almost childish need to present some show of resistance. It hurt his pride as an Earthman to think of his planet simply rolling over and allowing itself to be raped by these invaders.

"Who's your commander?" He took the offered gun belt without a word, strapping it around his waist, pulling the gun from its holster and checking it. Fully loaded.

One of the other soldiers coughed nervously.

"We sort of hoped
you
would be, sir."

Brian Worthington, seventeen years old and on day release to the Observation Corp. from the military academy where he was training to be an officer, had barricaded himself into the forward observation room of Station 00329. Outside the door he could still hear the shouting, the agonised screaming, the fighting between those who remained loyal and those who rebelled.

He fought to hold back the tears, felt them trickle down his cheeks anyway. He was shaking, sobbing quietly to himself, pacing back and forth, wringing his hands in despair. What could he do? He had no doubt who would win the struggle taking place throughout the rest of the orbiting station. The rebels outnumbered those loyal to the Controller by at least ten to one. Sooner or later they would break in here. It would not matter whose side he professed to be on at that stage. The simple fact that he had barricaded himself in spoke of his fear, his cowardice.

They would kill him!

He stared out the observation window at Uranus far below, and he found he still thought of it as 'below' although he knew the concept was redundant out here. He wondered if the bases on the surface were embroiled in the same struggle. And what of all the other observation stations, orbiting other planets in the solar systems? Was everywhere suffering the same fate?

The sudden, sharp rattle of gunfire from somewhere inside the station made him jump and turn around, but the door still remained closed, locked, bolted and barricaded.

The sounds of fighting were receding, slowly dying. He knew it would not be long before the victors turned their attention to his door.

A steady beeping invaded his consciousness, interrupted his thoughts, his fears. What was it? For a moment he didn’t recognise it, then he turned and looked towards the bank of observation screens in the centre of the room.

The warning lights were flashing, the alarm beeping. The sensors were picking up something, a something they did not recognise. Something that shouldn't be there.

Despite his fear, curiosity overwhelmed him and he rushed to the nearest screen, pressing the 'view' button.

The screen flickered, flashed into a view of space just beyond the outer edge of the solar system. He saw the cloud. Zoomed in. A swarm of insects. Zoomed in.
Warships!

Brian Worthington could have gone down in history as the first man to see the four thousand strong Aks/Szuiltan invasion fleet approaching the solar system, but no historian would ever know his name.

Orbiting Observation Station 00329 splintered in a kaleidoscope of explosions as the invading ships entered combat for the first time, sending debris spinning out into the depths of space. A squadron of fifty smaller ships peeled off towards Uranus to eradicate human life from its surface. The main fleet ploughed into the Solar System, unmerciful, unstoppable.

Loadra was on his feet, a look of confusion and panic in his eyes.

Commander-in-chief Markland stood to one side, studying the reports again and again as if he could not believe that he had read them correctly.

"How can this be?" cried Loadra. "Larn help us! How can this be?"

"This breaks every convention, every morality we have lived and fought by," complained Markland. "They can't do this!"

"But they
are
doing it," snapped Tina.

They've been like this since the first reports came in fifteen minutes ago
, she thought.
What's wrong with them? Were they so hyped up on their success, on their religion, that they can't handle the possibility of it being snatched away from them?

"If you organise your troops you may still be able to..."

"It's no good," interrupted Zeina from where he knelt in prayer. "Larn has spoken. We have angered Larn in some way and this is his punishment. What use is there in denying it? We must accept what Larn has decreed for us without complaint."

"You can't just give in," she cried in disbelief.

Loadra turned on her, jabbed an accusing finger in her direction.

"Zeina is right! This is Larn's punishment, punishment for dealing with the evil of the Reagold Corporation. I knew we were wrong to do it, but we needed the financing. We needed your help and now Larn is showing us our errors, making sure we never forget this lesson."

"You can't believe that," said Tina, backing away from the accusing finger.
I'm trapped in a room with madmen.

"It was
your
Director who advised us that now was the right time to stage the coup," shouted Markland, stepping forward, shadowed as always by two of his soldiers. "Larn may be punishing us, but
her
company have deceived us, made us defenceless against the enemy."

Markland drew his gun, lifted it to the level of Tina's eyes, aimed directly between them.

Tina froze, staring down the barrel, the terrible realisation that she was about to die making her incapable of movement. Her bladder opened involuntarily. She felt warm wetness spread down her thighs. The muscles in her legs begged to give way but she struggled to stay standing.

I wish I believed in a god
, she thought.
Something to pray to. But my god has always been the corporation, and now I have denied that as well.

She imagined she could see the Commander-in-chief's finger tightening on the trigger and closed her eyes.

Wherever you are Martin, alive or dead, I really did love you. Goodbye.

She screamed, despite her conviction not to, as she heard the gunshots.

I'm not dead!
The realisation exploded into her mind, a dazzling light in the darkness that had threatened to engulf her.
I'm still alive.

She opened her eyes, saw Markland sprawled across the meeting table, blood staining his uniform in crimson rosettes.

Two more short bursts of gunfire and Markland's soldiers fell to the ground, dead.

Tina turned towards the door, saw Martin there surrounded by four Terramarines, guns ready.

She ran to him, threw herself into his arms as the first explosions in the grounds outside shook the building's foundations, sending a cloud of dust to settle on those inside.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Martin held her for a moment, looked over her shoulder to where both Zeina and Loadra now knelt in prayer. He controlled a feeling of utter disgust for them and turned to Tina.

"We've got to move, get out of here before it gets too hot to escape," he said, gently easing her off him.

"Right." She regained her composure quickly. "I'm ok. Let’s go."

Martin smiled despite himself. He could not fail to admire her courage, and her ability to adapt.

There were priests and soldiers in the corridors, running, praying, shouting orders, but none gave more than a passing glance to the small group as they headed along a route well known to Martin.

"We'll take the Controller's secondary escape route," he had explained to the Terramarines earlier. "The main exit is bound to be congested in all the panic. Only the Controller and his bodyguards know this other way. It heads in and down, but don't worry, it
is
a way out of this mess."

As they neared the centre of the building, the sound of explosions outside diminished and the shuddering around them lessened to an almost bearable degree. They had not seen anyone else for some time.

"Everyone's trying to get out by the main exits," said Martin. "It's all they know." He almost pitied them.

He halted the group at a t-junction in the corridors, felt for the secret catch in the wall, found it but hesitated before activating it.

He looked around at the others, his eyes resting finally on Tina, her face showing signs of the strain and the worry. She struggled a smile to her lips and he felt something close to the love she desired of him.

"Once we're through here we're outside. Larn knows what it's going to be like out there." He paused, pulled the gun from his holster, and looked to the four Terramarines. "If we get separated, head for our agreed meeting place." He turned back to Tina. "You stay close to me."

She nodded her agreement. She had intended to do nothing less.

They burst into a deserted alleyway, although the air was filled with nearby sounds of screaming and running, of explosions in the distance.

It should have been daylight, yet a strange dusk had fallen over the palace grounds, a shifting darkness that made Martin feel uneasy.

He looked up to the sky, saw the great mass of battle cruisers overhead, blotting out the sun, bringing their own night with them.

He watched fighter craft skim the palace buildings, unchallenged by either ground or air defence, firing indiscriminately into the workers and courtiers who ran screaming below.

He saw the bellies of the cruisers opening, disgorging the troop carriers, and he realised that the same scenario would be in play throughout the whole world.

He felt a great cry of rage and anguish well up inside him, screaming to be given voice, and he fought to control it, to hold it within. The effort filled his eyes with tears of grief and pain. He knew, as he urged his group outwards, away from the palace centre, knew without any doubt, that the Earth, his planet of birth, the planet of his childhood, of friendships made and never forgotten, the planet he had, as a soldier, sworn allegiance to, had no hope of defence.

As the first Aksian soldiers, accompanied by shock troops of Bosens, set foot in the palace grounds, one phrase kept repeating itself in Martin's head, kept repeating sickeningly as they fled through the Palace suburbs towards a hoped for safety.

Earth is lost.

***************************

The story continues in

Liberation Of Worlds

Book Two in The Szuiltan Trilogy

Coming soon

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INTERLUDES

11 more tales of dark imagination

DETRITUS (contributing author)

Other books in paperback by the same author:

WELCOME HOME

HARD WINTER

THE MIDNIGHT HOUR

DETRITUS (contributing author)

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