Christopher Nuttall - Invasion

They didn’t cooperate with the Americans , he thought, vaguely. In their place, he would have involved the Chinese and Russians in the attack as well. It might even have been decisive, but instead, both powers remained quiet. They’d sent a Russian ambassador back down to Earth, but they’d accidentally killed the Chinese representative when they’d boarded the human space station. In hindsight, that had been a mistake, but not one that could have been avoided.

“Order the parasites to swarm over to the occupied zone and punish the humans for their imprudence,” he said. “Surge the secondary occupation forces into their landing craft and prepare to insert them into the occupied zone.”

The War Leader hesitated. “Your Holiness, the secondary occupation forces are not prepared for a landing under fire,” he said. “If the humans win on the ground, we will be throwing them all away, for nothing. If not… if not, the forces we have on the ground should be capable of maintaining their control, with support from orbit.”

The High Priest nodded slowly. The deployment of the secondary occupation force would limit their ability to secure a second beachhead on Earth, let alone a third. The researchers were studying the human religions now, locating the places that were of religious importance to the human race. The human religions, in some ways, were rather like the Truth, although a junior version of its truthfulness. It was suggested, deep in the sealed files, that at one time the Takaina had had several religions and the Truth had been a merger of them, but that was the foulest blasphemy. Once the human religions were crushed, they would be ready for the Truth.

“Hold the secondary forces in reserve, for the moment,” he ordered. “I want this assault defeated before the end of the day.”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” the War Leader said.

The alien tanks drove right down the centre of the road, their guns firing at anything that looked even the slightest bit suspicious. It didn’t save them; the mines that had been carefully hidden in the sewer detonated, suddenly collapsing part of the road and disrupting their path. They crashed into each other, suddenly brought to a helpless stop, as bullets started to rain down on them from the surrounding buildings. The alien soldiers, buttoned up in the IFVs, remained within the vehicles, trying to return fire with the weapons mounted on the outsides. Trapped, they couldn’t bring them to bear on their tormentors.

“Now,” Brent snapped, and seven Molotov cocktails were thrown into the alien position. Intact, the alien craft could have shrugged them off and kept coming, but broken as they were, the burning fuel would really ruin their day. The snipers picked off a handful of aliens who were trying to escape, while others watched for signs of an alien response. It wasn’t long in coming. “Run!”

The aliens had sent in a much larger ground force since the first insurgency. They had managed to tighten security around the Texas State Capital to the point where Brent couldn’t get anyone back inside the secure zone; humans, even collaborators, weren’t allowed into the building. It helped that most of the collaborators were helping the aliens under duress and were quite willing to help the resistance, but they weren’t allowed inside the secure zone. A handful, broken and defeated, had offered to carry bombs, but there was no point. They couldn’t get anything important.

He keyed his radio once as he ran. “Fire the rockets,” he ordered. “Now!”

There was no response, but then, he hadn’t expected one. The rockets had been assembled using basic components that could be found everywhere, built by rocket-enthusiasts who were, one and all, furious at the aliens for taking away the stars. They probably weren’t very accurate — he would have compared them to the old Russian Katyusha system, which he had actually seen in action — but they would definitely upset the aliens. The scream of the rockets could be heard all over the city as the teams launched them towards their targets and then fled. The alien helicopters were coming. This time, the helicopters remained high above, firing tiny rockets of their own towards the launch teams, rather than coming in low where they could be attacked by Stingers.

They’re learning , he thought, as he retreated back to the second base. The aliens were sweeping the entire area, building by building, and they weren’t hesitating to bring in the heavy firepower. He saw entire blocks blasted to rubble on suspicion of harbouring snipers, probably killing far too many civilians in the process. Most of the civilian population had been encouraged to leave for the outskirts — the aliens weren’t allowing anyone to actually leave the city — but there were still thousands of them caught in the firing line. He prayed for their safety, even as he imperilled it, deploying his teams of insurgents to hurt the aliens. The noise of IEDs could be heard all over the city. One of his team, an ex-Marine, had been working overtime to make them and emplace them around the city, including — somehow — in a building the aliens were using as a barracks. By now, they had to be feeling a little paranoid…

The ground crunched under his feet as he ran. It was easy to pick out the remains of hundreds of Transformer toys, shot up by the aliens. It was a complete mystery why they were there, unless the aliens had decided that they were something to do with human religion and destroyed them, and he dismissed it as he ran. The alien helicopters were coming closer and he threw himself into a lobby as they swooped past, engaging anything they saw that looked hostile. He pulled himself to his feet and started the climb towards the vantage point, hoping that he’d be able to see something of the overall situation. The office block, almost like the one they’d used as a base, what felt like years ago, was covered with broken glass and completely deserted. He hoped that the occupants had managed to escape before the war began, or maybe they’d remained in the city, maybe fighting the insurgency. It was so hard to be sure of anything these days…

Austin was burning, again. He stared out over the city as dawn rose, revealing new fires burning through the city… and hundreds of aliens on the streets. Humans were almost completely absent, the only man he saw clearly an alien collaborator, although not one he recognised. The insurgency seemed to have been defeated, again, but conventional wisdom proclaimed that a victory. They had survived another alien attempt to annihilate them. He wanted to draw his pistol and shoot the collaborator, but it wouldn’t be easy to hit him with a handgun at that range… and it would definitely give away his presence. The aliens seemed to have regained control and, for the moment, it would be unwise to challenge them again.

He looked up at the streaks of light, coming down in the distance, and shuddered.

He knew what they meant.

The tank charged forward, gunning its engine, every member of the crew knowing that the next second could be his last. There was no way of knowing just how badly the alien orbital bombardment system had been damaged, or even, really, just how it worked. The observatories swore that they’d seen the projectiles launched from the parasite ships and guided in by the orbital radar system, but how could they know for sure? The weapons weren’t perfectly accurate, but given how much power even a single KEW possessed, they didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to come down within a few meters of the tanks to destroy them.

But there was no choice. The aliens had massed a few kilometres to the south and the three-prong human force had to break through and destroy their base, and their armoured forces. If they could be destroyed, they could use infantry to continue the assault when dawn rose and the aliens got back into position, but if not… they would probably lose the war. Captain Jim McCoy peered nervously through his sensors, probing the darkness for the first signs of the alien tanks, and waited. It wouldn’t be long before they had what they’d been longing for all along; a direct clash with the alien armour, without their orbital weapons. His tank , Heavy Messing , had been lucky to survive so far, but now…