Invasion

“Call in,” he ordered dryly. The crew had a landline station a kilometre from their position. There was little point in using a cell phone or a radio; the odds were that they would either not work or draw fire themselves. “Jock, report to HQ and tell them what’s happened to us.”

They’d given it, literally, their best shot…but now they were out of the game.

He looked up at the twinkling lights in the sky and shivered.

***

Corporal Nathan Loomis gunned the Humvee’s engines and silently cursed Sergeant Bradbury under his breath. The Sergeant had had it in for him ever since he’d been assigned to the high-security protection detail for Area 51, apparently blaming Loomis for his failure to be assigned to a combat zone. Loomis, who had been trained as a guard for USAF facilities on the ground, didn’t have anything like the kind of influence that Bradbury seemed to believe he possessed; the only thing he had that not all USAF perimeter security staff possessed was a perfect security clearance. Area 51, the legendary research site and test bed for advanced military aircraft and technology, could only be guarded by men possessing enough clearance to gain access to the outer levels of security.

And, even so, Loomis and his fellows had seen almost nothing of the interior of the base. Despite popular culture, Area 51’s guards and even some of the staff weren't permitted into the interior of the base; they’d been warned, in no uncertain terms, that entering the inner compound without permission could lead to a life sentence in Leavenworth, with no hope of parole. What little he’d seen had been perfectly normal – and boring. He certainly hadn’t seen an alien flying saucer, regardless of what the nuts who kept trying to sneak in believed, and he hadn’t even seen any advanced aircraft. There had been times when he and the remainder of the Company had been confined to their barracks for a few hours, but even that hadn’t been anything unusual. If it hadn’t been for Bradbury, the entire deployment would have been boring; he would almost have welcomed a second deployment to Iraq, just to see some action.

Bastard, he thought, again. He’d been off-duty when the alien craft had been supposed to arrive – until he’d explained that the real reason why the aliens were coming was because they wanted to pick up their fellows from Area 51, after their flying saucer had crash-landed at Roswell. Bradbury hadn’t appreciated the joke and had ordered him to join the roving guard patrols around the complex for when the aliens arrived and no amount of arguing had been able to sway him. It was true that, with the discovery of a real alien craft, Area 51 had almost been under siege by barking mad loonies convinced that the USAF had a thousand grey alien bodies in the base, but most of them were harmless. The guards merely caught them and, as long as they were only in the outer security zone, escorted them out. A handful had reached the inner security zone, where they were arrested and interrogated. Most of them were just…more persistent than others, but a handful had had suspect connections to outside countries, including the Russians. They would give their right teeth for a look inside Area 51.

“This is Delta-Seven,” he said, keying his radio. The guards were supposed to check in every twenty minutes, just in case; if they delayed for an extra five minutes, the security alarm sounded and extra guards were deployed to find the missing patrol. It had happened before…and the unlucky patrol, who had often just forgotten to report in, had to buy the beer for a month. Loomis, who was saving up to go on holiday with his girlfriend, had no intention of having to pay the same penalty. “All clear, I repeat…”

He glanced up, just in time to see the night sky twinkling with a thousand lights. It didn’t look like a peaceful meeting now, but space war. He’d seen asteroids and even the remains of burned-out satellites returning to Earth, but this was different; it was almost like a meteor shower, but worse. The entire sky was ablaze with streaks of light. He started to key his radio again, only to be almost deafened by a burst of static…and then a shockwave picked up the Humvee and tossed it end over end.

“Fuck,” he breathed, as the vehicle came to a rest, upside down. He’d been in worse accidents, but there was no reason for the accident, was there? They had been driving on flat ground, not on terrain that could cause an accident if not treated properly. “Sound off; everyone all right?”

“Cole’s dead, sir,” Private Rashid said. The dark-skinned soldier managed to crawl out of the vehicle, pulling the body of his friend with him. A glance revealed the truth; Cole’s neck had been broken by the impact. The other two privates were alive, although shook up by the blast. “Did you get the number of that Abrams we crashed into?”