Alien Storm Read Free

caravan opposite slammed open as if it had been kicked. Major Bright stepped out into the light. Everyone in the camp looked round at the towering figure – now dressed in his black and gold uniform. For a moment he didn’t move, regarding them all with his cold, blue eyes. Nobody breathed. Finally, Bright started down the caravan steps and walked slowly across towards Eco and the biker.
    â€œIs there a problem?” he asked as he reached Eco’s side.
    The kid looked round, relief written all over his face. “This guy wants to leave.”
    The major looked at the man on the bike and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
    â€œHey, look, it’s been great,” the biker stammered. He seemed to have shrunk half a metre in height since Bright walked out of the caravan. “But me and my crew didn’t sign up to fight a war…”
    Bright held up his hand, palm forward, fingers splayed. “Then you should go.”
    There was a dull thud as the biker exploded in a puff of red-tinted mist. Eco wrinkled his nose at the burning smell that had filled the air. Without its rider, the Harley toppled over onto its side. A scrap of the biker’s leather jacket floated through the air and landed on the rear wheel. The other two bikers jumped off their machines and stumbled backwards, away from the major and Eco.
    â€œDoes anyone else want to disappear?” Bright asked mildly, casting his eyes around the silent audience. “No one? Sure? Then get to your positions. NOW!”
    The crowd broke and ran for their assigned places around the perimeter of the camp. For the last month, when they weren’t out on scavenging missions to the nearest towns, Bright had been drilling them in how to defend the camp from infiltration. Eco felt his heart race as he saw men and women grabbing makeshift weapons and scurrying behind barricades. He looked up at the major.
    â€œDon’t worry, sir. We’ll see them off or die trying.”
    The major traced a finger down the scar on his right cheek.
    â€œSure. You will.”

3
    Ten kilometres from the camp, Commander Craig tapped an area on the windscreen of his hovercopter and a Heads-Up Display, or HUD, opened showing a magnified view of the desert ahead. The camp in the distance was little more than a collection of rusting cars, trucks and caravans. To the edge of the screen a window showed a dark-haired woman in her late thirties – his boss, Dr. Rachel Andersen. She was overseeing the desert assault from the safety of her office, hundreds of kilometres away at the HIDRA base in Melbourne.
    â€œOkay, Commander,” she said. “Tell me what I’m seeing.”
    â€œThe aerial assault is inbound on the camp, sir,” Craig informed her. He tapped a section of the HUD to the west, where a dust-cloud was rising. On Rachel’s screen back at the base the vision would be highlighted. “That’s the ground convoy. We’ve got six troop transports heading into the camp.”
    Rachel Andersen said again, “I hope your men understand what they’re going up against, Commander.”
    â€œA group of outlaws and scum hiding out in the desert? Forgive me, sir, but this should be short and sweet.”
    Rachel gave him a hard look. “I’m talking about Bright. I want him restrained and in a cell by the end of the morning. No mistakes.”
    â€œYessir,” the commander replied briskly as he reached for his comm. “Ground force, hold position one klick from the camp. Air support move in.”
    The three other hovercopters surged towards the camp while Commander Craig kept his in a holding pattern.
    â€œWe can watch everything from here, sir,” he told Rachel as the magnified HUD showed the copters circle the perimeter of the camp. “They’re conducting an initial scan. This should tell us exactly how many hostiles we’re dealing with and where the weak points are.”
    In the window,