X war infestation, p.13
X WAR: Infestation, page 13
Derek looked up at her, the rage in his eyes now evident.
Piper pointed an accusing finger towards him. "So many people died to save you, but you don't care. You just do what you want and—"
Her words got cut off when an unseen force began to squeeze her throat shut, blocking the air from her voice box. Piper staggered backwards, her back colliding with the frame of the open door.
Marshalling her thoughts, she quickly used her own psionic powers as a mental shield, and the pressure on her throat began to weaken, allowing her to breathe once again. Holding on to the doorknob to keep herself upright, she coughed for a few seconds until her larynx recovered.
Piper's anger had doubled, and she locked eyes with him. "You're just an animal, you know that?"
Derek stood up as the lump of crystal in his hand stopped glowing. "If you insult me one more time... I'll crush your skull."
"So you want to kill me too? Then what? You're gonna kill everyone in this whole place?"
"Stop bothering me!"
A chair stood near the door, and Piper wearily sat down on it. "Derek, I'm trying to understand, but I just can't seem to get through to you."
"What do you want me to do? Cry? They're dead, okay? Tears won't bring them back."
"You could at least show that you cared about them."
"I didn't know them like you did."
"What happens when I die, Derek? Are you just gonna pretend like I didn't exist too?"
The boy grimaced. "Stop talking about the past. It's over. We have be ready for the future."
"Oh? And what's that gonna be, huh? More dead people?"
"A lot more will die, but we'll have a chance to win this."
Piper snorted. "Yeah, right. How are we going to win this? Explain it to me!"
"The Rebellion. They know where the Others are coming from."
"The who? What are you talking about?"
Derek held up the crystal. "They used to be slaves of the Compact, but now they're fighting to free themselves."
"Okay... so how do we contact them?"
"There's a big forest to the southeast, we need to head over there."
"Is that why we came back to this city?"
Derek nodded. "One of the rebels is being hidden by that reporter you met."
"Elsner Bravy?"
"Yes. We need to reach him soon."
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going."
"We stayed here for a bit so you could get over it. Are you ready?"
"Let's just go."
27 Scotland
THIRTY KILOMETERS NORTH of Dundee, the glens of Angus were bordered by low grassy hills and the occasional Caledonian forests of Scots pine and silver birches. With the increasing incidents of alien encounters occurring throughout the world, the more worried folks who had once occupied a number of outlying farms around Glenmoy and Clachnabrain had decided to move away rather than experience a potential extraterrestrial threat on their own.
After waking up from his short nap, Thorne gingerly sat up on the bed, reached for his slacks then put them on before grabbing his bathrobe and draping it over his body. The moaning wind from the outside would regularly synthesize natural repetitive sounds as they seeped through the occasional cracks and angles of the brick and mortar farmhouse he was staying in, creating an eerie yet soothing cacophony of noise.
Padding down the narrow stairs, he made it into the kitchen and placed the half-filled kettle on the stove to boil it up again. He knew from memory that the refrigerator still contained a quarter loaf of bread, a pint of milk, packets of processed cheese, orange marmalade, and butter. He had perhaps a dozen cans of beans and Spam in a nearby cupboard if he wanted a midnight snack.
I should have bought more fresh fruit, he thought, wondering whether he ought to go back into town the next morning to make a supply run.
When he twisted sideways in alarm the moment the kettle started whistling, Thorne immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot up his backbone and he nearly doubled over, grabbing the kitchen counter just in time to keep himself upright.
The task he did in Prague must have fractured one of his ribs or even his spine, and the aches that he had once thought were temporary had begun to intensify over the past few days since his return from continental Europe.
Perhaps I'll go see a local doctor, he thought. I'll just tell them I suffered a fall while taking a walk or something.
A sudden realization of his own mortality darkened Thorne's formerly relaxed mood. At one time he thought everything was in place, yet recent events sent a clear message that all his schemes were now spiraling out of control.
Even the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, he thought, paraphrasing Robert Burns. Taking the kettle from the stovetop, he poured himself a cup. I even forgot to buy some fresh lemons for the tea. I must really be getting old.
A muffled creak coming from one of the old floorboards along the outside porch of the farmhouse made him pause, the side of the steaming teacup mere millimeters from touching his lips.
Thorne's mind instantly went on alert as he placed the cup down gently onto the porcelain saucer by the countertop. He had paid a local farmer in cash to stay over for a few weeks, and the man and his family were only too willing to rent the place out to him. He had furnished the landlord fake identification that was only glanced at, and Thorne gave them strict instructions to call him if they were ever to return home ahead of schedule.
Now he was certain somebody lurked outside. He had spent a whole day testing the old wooden floors, even loosening a few planks to set up a sort of natural alarm system, just in case someone came for him, and it was obvious they were out there—positioned for an assault—just behind the brick walls.
Thorne bit his lip. Who could it be? If it was a local they would surely have announced themself by now. No, it can't be. No one knows I'm here except that bloody farmer, and he's staying with his in-laws in Glasgow.
The manor consisted of the main farmhouse, two unused barns, and a garage where he had hidden the car, with the entire compound surrounded by a low stone wall. All the windows had been shuttered, so anyone who could see the place while traveling along the distant motorway would have sensed the place was unoccupied.
His succeeding line of thought was one of immediate denial. He had stopped by Thames House and reviewed reports on all active operations beforehand—none were focused on his activities. Thorne even called in favors at MI6 to check on their end, and the communiqués said that the Chinese had not reacted. His colleagues at MI5 all knew he was out on holiday leave, but he never told them where.
I paid a Dutch fisherman in cash to bring me to Scotland by boat, so there's no chance that any outside intelligence agency could have known my immediate whereabouts.
He was thinking too much, now he had to react. Opening one of the drawers, he took out a kitchen knife before moving forward to where the light switch was and flipped it, plunging the farmhouse's interior into pitch black darkness.
More creaking was heard, this time coming from near the back door, right where the kitchen was. The darkness was acute and completely opaque, but he had already memorized how many steps it took to go from one room to the next, and where the correct angles would be. Positioning himself at an alcove by the side of the back door, Thorne held the knife close to his body, and waited.
Long minutes passed. Then he heard the sounds of a lock being picked, followed by a loud click that meant the doorknob had been breached. He had placed a bit of lubricant along the hinges to allow the door to open without too much noise, thereby giving the intruder a false sense of security for a few precious seconds.
Thorne got ready as he saw someone wearing all black tactical assault gear moving past the slightly open back door, stepping into the kitchen while cradling a silenced Heckler & Koch MP5 submachinegun. The intruder also had on a set of nightvision goggles over his eyes, just as he came through the threshold, a mere arm’s length away.
When the prowler glanced towards the alcove where he was hiding, Thorne finally reacted, slashing the knife blade along the man's wrist while using his free hand to knock aside the submachinegun that was about to point in his direction.
Right as the intruder screamed out in pain after getting a deep cut along his forearm, Thorne made an upwards strike using his open palm against his opponent's nose, breaking it and throwing back the nightvision goggles from the man's eyes in a single movement.
The opponent staggered, but his terrific physical conditioning kept him in the fight. Even though the sudden removal of his nightvision gear had somewhat disorientated him, the man in black shifted sideways, knocking away the kitchen knife as he brought the silenced MP5 to bear on his target once more.
Thorne instinctively winced as he heard the subsonic rounds landing in the kitchen wall, less than a quarter of a meter from where his body had been. Using both hands, he tried to grapple with the other man, even though he knew his older body had a distinct disadvantage when it came to a physical contest. His opponent quickly indulged him by letting go of his weapon and tried to use his superior strength and weight to pin Thorne to the wall.
Sensing that he had no options left, Thorne remembered where he was with regards to the furniture around him and used his right leg to swipe at the rear of his opponent's left calf. The unexpected loss of balance in that direction sent the bigger man falling towards his rear, the back of his head banging heavily against the solidly-built kitchen counter.
The moment his opponent fell groggily down onto the floor, Throne knelt on top of him and followed it up with a series of punches to his target’s exposed chin. Although he didn't land every blow, Thorne finally managed to knock his adversary out cold as the man stopped struggling, groaning in semi-consciousness.
No one followed the intruder inside from the open doorway. That meant it was only a small team that was after him. If there were others, then they would be covering the front and sides of the farmhouse. He had a chance, but he needed to be quick about it.
Thorne tried to tug at the MP5 submachinegun and pry it loose, but the weapon was strapped tightly on his stunned opponent, and it would take too long to try and untangle it from him in the semi-darkness. Reaching by his fallen enemy's side, Thorne's hand quickly felt the butt of a pistol and he managed to draw out the weapon. Based on his experience, the handgrip felt similar to that of a Glock.
Good enough, he thought as he pulled back slightly along the pistol's slide to do a brass check, making sure there was a round in the chamber as he scrambled out past the doorway and into the open.
The clear, late evening sky had a full moon that somewhat illuminated the looming shadows of the compound, and it was enough for him to dart across the grounds, heading out to where the garage was located.
Even though he didn't see anyone else, Thorne remained on his guard as he thrust his shoulder against the side door, throwing the panel open. Keeping the gun close to his body, he ran up to the parked Vauxhall Corsa, opened the driver's side door, and jumped in.
Placing the Glock pistol on top of the dashboard, he reached down to where the ignition was and threw off the lower cover behind the steering wheel. He had purchased the car with cash, and had already loosened the screws just in case he needed to start the vehicle without the ignition key.
As he reached down and began fiddling with the wires, a shadow loomed up behind him. Thorne turned, but it was too late. A jolt of electrical shock surged through the side of his body, the sudden, burning pain quickly incapacitating him.
The last voice he heard before losing consciousness had a Midwestern American accent to it. "You are one hell of a hard target to bring down, you goddamn limey son of a bitch."
28 Vashon Island
ALTHOUGH THEY WERE ordered to keep human casualties to a minimum, the assault teams weren't taking any chances, and any Etherian they encountered was quickly dispatched with silenced headshots. Less than a minute into their assault, and eight bodies belonging to the cult were now lying in and around the outer perimeter.
Master Sergeant Arkady Chuikov felt the growing heat coming from his defender belt as he led his team past the breached wire fence, heading towards what looked like the main residence nestled behind a line of pine trees.
Their field commander, Captain Jonas Burgin, had instructed them to keep their belts on even as they were secretly inserted by boat into a nearby summer camp south of Paradise Cove the night before, and Chuikov was thankful they all complied with that order. It seemed that these protective belts they wore also gave them a bit of stealth since they had expected to come up against possible psionic opponents, and the alarm had yet to be raised.
With his eight-man team now in position, Chuikov trained his nightvision goggles towards the entrance of the dome-shaped main house. It looked like no other building he had ever seen before, and the uncomfortable waves of heat emanating from his belt meant that there was surely an alien presence within.
Yasi Rabuka crouched down beside him. The SAS trooper was their designated radioman, and he pointed towards another boxlike building to the east. "All teams in position. Captain Burgin says we can go in anytime."
Chuikov nodded as he signaled at the others to follow him while dashing forward.
THE DESIGNATED LOCATION they were supposed to assault looked like a four-story office building in the middle of a pine forest, and Gossard remained wary. Unlike the other teams, his unit had yet to encounter anyone or anything.
After seeing Oliver Vernon's hand signals that the approach was clear at the opposite side, he got up and began to dash across the intervening road heading straight towards the entrance, the rest of his team following right behind him. This time they were all back to wearing their full body armor since they were expecting a lot of human resistance, and it made their going somewhat slower than the last time.
The glass entryways at the front were locked, but the team quickly shattered them using a combination of silenced gunfire and breaching charges before pouring into the seemingly deserted reception hall.
A nearby office door opened and two robed Etherian cult members walked right into them. The man and woman instantly paused, surprise written on their faces. The members of the assault team didn't hesitate, and both were instantly gunned down by well placed, semi-automatic shots to their heads.
Gossard pointed towards the long corridor past the reception desk before gesturing a second time to where the stairs were. Vernon nodded as he signaled his own team to follow him up to the second floor, while the SEAL operative continued to move down the main passageway.
The corridor had multiple doors along its sides, and it made for slow going as Gossard's team checked where each entryway led into. The first half dozen doors revealed nondescript offices, meeting rooms, and even a small pantry. The seventh door led into a bathroom. When they finally got to the end of the corridor, a set of locked double doors barred their way.
After backing away behind a juncture, Gossard waited until Dieter Haas planted the shaped explosive charges and detonated them before leaning out to see what they had uncovered. Past the breached doors was another corridor that seemed to slope downwards into a lower level. Not wishing to waste any more time, Gossard ran through the passageway and into the subbasement area.
Hearing the rest of his teammates running right behind him, Gossard didn't slow down as he rounded a turn, ending up smack dab at the entrance to a large underground room lit by glowing yellow crystals encrusted along the sides of the high walls. Pulsing alien machinery seemed to jut out of the melted metallic flooring of the place, humming strange noises.
Just like what we encountered in Sudan, he thought as he signaled his team to spread out. Weird three-meter-high black crystalline columns occupied much of the open space around the freestanding machines, as if the latter had some sort of control over them.
Gossard kept looking around, hoping to spot more doors. "Don't touch anything for chrissakes."
His words came too late as Haas stood looking at one of the columns, and the big German slipped while trying to veer to his right, his gloved hand reaching out, and he inadvertently pressed his palm against the side of the pillar for support.
Gossard and two others shouted in alarm as the crystal columns began to glow, revealing something writhing around inside of them. Everyone quickly trained their weapons on the pulsating obelisks, fully expecting some monstrous life form to hatch out and start attacking them.
Haas didn't even bother to wait as he leveled his FN SCAR-H battle rifle and fired at the nearest column. The 7.62mm rounds smashed through the crystalline shell and the entire side of the pillar shattered, revealing a naked, middle aged Asian man covered in greenish slime who promptly fell onto the floor and coughed for a few seconds before convulsing from the gunshot wounds inflicted on his body.
"Hold your fire!" Gossard yelled as he and another trooper ran over to where the dying man lay.
Kneeling down beside the goo-covered man, Gossard used his glove to wipe away the substance from the man's face to get a clearer look. "Who are you?"
The man stared up at him as the light began to leave his eyes. His English had a clear Japanese accent to it. "My... my name i-is H-Himura Ichiro. P-please tell my wife... that I-I love her."
Gossard grimaced as Himura closed his eyes and stopped breathing. The name of the now dead man was vaguely familiar, as if he heard it during a briefing at one time in the past, but he couldn't place it in his present state of mind.
Just as he was about to turn and cuss at Haas, the glowing crystals along the walls intensified their radiance, right before bits of the ceiling caved in and a half dozen infiltrators, their tall spindly bodies just having been reactivated, leaped out from their various overhangs, and dropped directly onto the surprised assault team.
DESPITE HIS EXTENSIVE experience fighting with aliens, Chuikov could hardly believe his eyes while staring at the contents of the massive cavern located beneath the main house. Their frantic search of the upstairs floors proved fruitless, until one of his teammates found a hidden stairwell leading down to an underground level, and Chuikov ordered everyone to go in.
