The battle for the universe continues in Alien: Invasion, the second book in Tim Lebbon's Rage War series that began with Predator: Incursion. With Titan Books celebrating Alien Day with their paperback release of Alien: Invasion, we've been provided with an exclusive excerpt from the novel for Daily Dead readers to enjoy.
Alien: Invasion synopsis: "For centuries Weyland-Yutani has tried to weaponize the aliens. Now someone has beaten them to it, sweeping through Yautja space and turning predator into prey.
Faced with the overwhelming forces of the Rage, Earth envoys forge an unprecedented alliance with the Predators. Yet even the combined might of two races may not be enough to stop the carnage, as an unstoppable swarm of Xenomorphs topples planet after planet, penetrating ever deeper into the Human Sphere.
The second original novel in an Alien vs Predator “Rage War” series, continuing from Predator: Incursion."
To learn more about Alien: Invasion, visit:
Exclusive Excerpt:
3
VICTIMS
Gamma Quadrant, Various Outer Rim Locations
October 2692They’re bombing us!
Private Dan Mann sprinted with his platoon, dashing from the facility toward the beach. The dunes were low, but the sand was loose, and even though his combat suit augmented his strength through successive compression and loosening, he was already tiring. They were told that the atmosphere of Priest’s World was perfectly breathable, much cleaner than Earth’s and richer in oxygen, but that didn’t feel the case right now.
“Incoming!” Sergeant Golden shouted. “Mark your targets!”
“Incoming?” Mann responded. “They’re fucking bombing us! What is this, the twentieth century?”
“Don’t be fooled,” Golden said. “Expect the unexpected.”
They hit the beach just as the first of the bombs impacted five hundred yards from shore.
Good, Mann thought. Not only are they using outdated weapons, they’re also shitty shots. He and the rest of his platoon from the 13th Spaceborne—the MudSerpents— spread along the beach and took up defensive positions. The ship banked sharply and accelerated up and away, the last of its bombs tumbling from their bay and spiraling down to splash into the white tipped waves far out from shore.
Crouched down behind a low dune, Mann braced himself for the first of the detonations.
His com-rifle was light and loaded, all systems green and fully fired up. He had six plasma grenades on his belt, full charges for laser and nano-shot, and an old Glock 17 tucked into his right boot. He called that his “Last Chancer.” Most marines had a non-tech weapon, backup in case their suit’s CSU failed, com-rifle broke, or they ran out of ammo.
Mann felt good, and set against a combat soldier of the twentieth century, he was a nuke compared to a hand grenade.
He was fascinated with military history, and on Priest’s World he’d had plenty of times to study. The twenty-first century, still the most destructive of humankind’s existence, was his personal area of expertise. This carpet-bombing method was from way back then, over six hundred years ago.
“Where are the explosions?” Mourhanda asked. She crouched to his left, lithe and strong. Always ready for a fight, she glanced his way. “The fuck you looking at?”
Mann grinned and looked back out to sea, just as the second assault ship powered toward them from the horizon.
Priest’s World’s defense satellites had detected the big ship dropping out of warp just over an hour before. The maneuver had been dangerously close to the planet, and with no visiting craft expected for at least the next three months, the facility’s alarms rang long and loud. Especially when the ship had released two smaller craft that had instantly dropped into the atmosphere and headed for Langelli.
The community of Langelli Station served two purposes. First, it comprised a research facility for a colony of Company scientists undertaking a delicate and sensitive study of Priest’s World’s flora and fauna. This was also the nearest planet to drophole Gamma 34, and as such the staging post for the defensive Marine contingent and tech crews. The drophole had been established for more than three years, the Titan ship that built it even now on its ongoing journey beyond the Outer Rim to the site of the next intended hole, eleven light years distant.
Gamma 34 was a billion miles from Priest’s World, the drophole partially supported by a small orbiting station half a million miles distant. Being so close, Priest’s World was the most logical and cheapest place to house the bulk of those assigned to protect and maintain the amazing piece of technology.
An orbiting space platform, connected to Priest’s World’s equatorial region by a space elevator, was the launching point for journeys to and from Gamma 34. Once up to speed, a trip rarely took more than a standard day. A little over nineteen minutes ago, the station had been attacked and all communications lost.
A scout party on the planet’s night side had reported seeing a brief flare of destruction just above their southern horizon, and no contact could be made with the space
elevator’s support teams.“Heads up!” Sergeant Golden shouted. A gruff bastard, he’d been Mann’s sarge for over eight years. He’d passed over selection for the Excursionists, saying that he preferred to keep his feet on rock as much as possible. As such, this posting suited him well. His brother had become an Excursionist a dozen years before, and six months earlier his unit had been one of the first to face combat in the recent Yautja incursion. He’d been injured but survived, and the sarge had displayed an unaccustomed sensitivity when telling the platoon about his brother’s exploits.
With the brothers more than fifty light years apart, it must have felt like infinity.
The second ship disgorged its cargo, the falling objects also splashing into the sea hundreds of yards from shore. They looked streamlined and sleek, but not quite uniform.
“What the hell…?” Mann said.
The bombs dropped by the attacking ships resurfaced. They bobbed in the swell, a few of them riding breaking waves. Mann squinted, then instructed his suit to give an enlarged view.
As he took in a breath to swear, the sarge started issuing orders.
“Mark your targets! Xavier, message HQ and tell them what we’re seeing here. Those weren’t bombs. Repeat, those were not bombs!”
“They’re changing,” Mourhanda said. “I swear some of them are swimming toward us. It’s like they’re alive.”
“They are alive,” Mann said. “Xenomorphs.”
Mourhanda looked at him, shock in her expression.
They were friends, close companions, and they had fought together side by side several times, watching each other’s backs. But they had never been forced to fight anything like this.
As if at a signal, the fallen objects started surging toward the beach. Sleek shapes became spiked, sharp silhouettes, slashing at the water, churning through it, turning the swells into white, violent waves.
Mann’s suit projected a firing grid across his field of vision, connecting with the rest of his platoon’s suits to establish the most efficient firing solution. His own targets flowed red in the grid, and he hefted his rifle and locked on.
“Open up!” the sarge bellowed, and Mann squeezed the trigger.
Raised on a steady diet of R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps books and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Derek has been fascinated with fear since he first saw ForeverWare being used on an episode of Eerie, Indiana.
When he’s not writing about horror as the Senior News Reporter for Daily Dead, Derek can be found daydreaming about the Santa Carla Boardwalk from The Lost Boys or reading Stephen King and Brian Keene novels.
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