Fast behind it, the fallen angel lined up his second shot.
But, from behind him, an American jet intervened by shooting missiles that utilized infra-red and search-and-track capabilities.
A warning blared in the fallen angel’s cockpit. He took a defensive maneuver, but an incoming missile hit its mark, blowing up his hovercraft.
The unhindered Chinese jet plowed through the gray skies, speeding up and over the cliffs at the edge of the sea. Abaddon’s castle, which sat high on the peak of a black cragged mountain, was in sight. The warplane shot several missiles.
Toroidal fireballs consumed the castle and adjacent air force base.
Tom appeared just in time to watch the explosions unfold in the sky. The moment was bitter sweet. He was glad Abaddon’s empire had fallen, but he was also concerned the human army was making too much progress, so he aimed his EMP gun at the planes escaping from the tunnel. The device resembled a short-barreled bazooka with a clear, half-round quartz sight at its end. He flipped a switch near the handle. The gun hummed. He pulled the trigger, causing gamma rays to charge the electrons in the air. The heat generated from the displaced electrons sent a surge of energy that burned up all the electrical circuitry within range.
The modern jets lost their computer-controlled stability and dropped like a flock of mallard ducks during hunting season. Explosions battered the landscape as each jet struck the ground. Only the fallen angels’ hovercraft remained afloat.
Some of the human pilots managed to eject and unfurl their parachutes, but the fallen angels used them for target practice.
Tom surveyed the smoldering castle in the distance and the plane wreckages all around him. There was nothing left for him to do here, so he set the intention to go to earth’s surface where Zachary and Cecile were already using the EMP devices to disable the military’s weaponry.
Zachary arrived, floating above the Fort Bragg military base, just in time to see a jet lift off, quickly gaining altitude.
Ignoring the one that got away, Zachary raised the EMP device in his hand, holding it tight against his shoulder, sweeping it from one end of the base to the other. Unseen and unheard, these incredibly powerful energy waves incinerated the electronics on all the aircraft and ground-support vehicles as well as the base’s phone and electrical systems, heating and air conditioning units, generators, computers, and more.
There were no explosions, fires or even a sound. It was very anticlimactic. A ground vehicle rolled to a stop.
Next, Zachary pointed the EMP device at the jet that had taken off. Flying at supersonic speed, it was already a speck on the horizon. Because of the recent attacks on the Dracos, the young man was less resistant to taking a life (not something he was proud of), yet he hesitated to pull the trigger.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt burst out of the clear blue sky, striking the aircraft, which exploded. A great round of thunder rolled over the land.
The startled young man studied the orange ball of flames, then uttered the name of the perpetrator, “Bechard.”
Plan C
AFTER THE EMP strikes were completed, the Earth Sentinels returned to the Galactic Council’s chambers. The beauty of the sparkling crystal walls belied the somber tone of the room. Tom, Cecile and Zachary looked tired, only Haruto and Billy were clear eyed.
Synege said, “We need to kill the UN leaders and replace them as quickly as possible.” She spoke directly to Bechard, “Have you been able to contact Abaddon?”
Bechard answered, “No. He was either killed in battle or is in hiding, and no one has stepped up to take his place.”
“The council and I discussed this possibility, and have the following suggestion: Let’s finish the mission without the fallen angels. You, Earth Sentinels, can use our Alterian soldiers to assassinate the UN hybrids, and then install your own members into the vacancies.”
Tom asked, “What about the remaining Draco leaders? Should they be killed as well?”
The council members telepathically conferred with one another.
Finally, Synege answered Tom, “The highest-ranking Dracos have been taken care of. For now, let’s focus on eliminating and replacing the UN leaders.” She then directed her words to all of the Earth Sentinels, “Are you willing to finish this mission? I know it won’t be easy, and you are tired, but it must be done.”
They all agreed, except for Haruto.
New Recruits
BECHARD TOOK IT upon himself to find recruits he could trust to take over the UN leadership positions, which would soon be forcibly vacated, so he issued a request that spiraled around the world, beckoning the former Earth Sentinels to return to the spirit realm.
The fallen angel’s voice entered the mind of an African shaman wearing colorful clothing, which belied his hopeless situation as he sat in a tent alongside a dozen other members of his tribe—all held captive in a detainment camp. The man heard Bechard’s voice, carried by the wind, calling, “Come, come, Earth Sentinels!” The man smiled, then closed his eyes, letting his spirit follow the familiar sound.
At another campsite, a Siberian shamaness with braided gray hair, wrapped with a colorful scarf, heard Bechard’s voice summoning her. She clasped her hands, her silver bracelets clinking, then closed her eyes, freeing her spirit.
Soon thousands of spirits stepped through the ethereal blue doors that led into the spirit realm. They moved toward the cobblestone courtyard where Bechard waited for the shamans, mudangs, Ngakpas, Jhakri, Noros, klong folk, Alignalghi, Sangomas, Hatałii, curanderos, Geiki and Machi to arrive. The old friends were noisy and jovial as they greeted each other.
The fallen angel raised his hands to quiet the crowd, loudly calling out, “Welcome back, Earth Sentinels!” The crowd hushed. “It’s an honor and pleasure to see you again. Thank you for coming, because, once again, we have important work to do.”
He briefed them on the virus outbreak and its impact on a few of the Earth Sentinels who were mutating; and on the war between the fallen angels and Dracos whose hive mind commanded the UN hybrid leaders who, in turn, controlled the human armies and all aspects of civilization.
After answering their questions, Bechard told them why he had invited them here, “At any moment, the Alterian soldiers will begin assassinating the UN hybrids. These positions need to be filled by people of high moral character, who will act fairly and follow the guidance of the Galactic Council. Make no doubt about it, these are dangerous positions subject to assassination attempts, so I will understand if you don’t want to volunteer. But if you don’t, please leave now. No judgment. Because it would be better if you left now, rather than later.”
A few dozen people slunk away, exiting through the blue doors.
“I appreciate their honesty. Anyone else?”
No one moved.
As a final confirmation, Bechard addressed those who stayed, “If you think you have the qualities to help mankind during this difficult transition, please step forward.”
Everyone took a step over the cobblestones.
Bechard smiled like a teacher well pleased with his students.
UN Replacements
IN A CLEARING of a great forest, troll warriors waited for Zachary’s arrival. They were dressed for battle, wearing rugged furs over their woven garments. On top of their nubby heads were helmets with ram horns protruding from the sides, pulled low over their bulging foreheads, resting just above their bushy eyebrows. Some wielded swords or knives, but all held clubs. The trolls’ large mouths and thick lips were pulled back in sneers as they mentally prepared themselves for the carnage about to ensue. The women and children stood nearby to wish the warriors well before they left, expecting them to come back as heroes known throughout Alteria, and honored in the legends sure to follow.
Zachary appeared out of thin air.
The leader, Junya, approached him, his thick tree-trunk legs stomping across the dusty ground, his musky smell preceding him. The troll looked down on the puny human, speaking in
a gruff voice, “Welcome to Miramar, land of the trolls. From here to the sea, we are many. And we accept the call to…” he shouted back at his clansmen, “smash some heads!”
The warriors roared, shaking their clubs.
Zachary felt out of his league—not understanding how anyone could look forward to killing. After the shouting subsided, he informed them, “I need one of you to go with me—”
All of the warriors rushed forward, nearly trampling Zachary who jumped out of the way to avoid being crushed.
Junya spoke, “I go!”
“Me, too!”
“And, me!”
One of them shouted, “Kantra, you not take my place!”
The trolls at the forefront wrestled with each other. One grabbed another by the neck.
Zachary cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “Stop! Stop it!” He put his hands down, conceding, “Okay, the four of you can come.”
They let go of each other. The other warriors groaned wishing they had joined the scuffle.
“Don’t worry. You’ll each have a turn,” Zachary assured them.
The selected trolls straightened their animal skins and helmets, preparing themselves for the attack.
Meanwhile, at the Fort Bragg military base, the UN leader, Commander Lewis, sat in his office having a terse conversation with his officers. “So what did you find out?”
With a southern drawl, an officer answered, “The driver who went to Seymour said the other base is in the same boat as us, but, interestingly, the towns in-between were unaffected by the EMP strikes, sir.”
“That is interesting.” Commander Lewis sat thinking, unsure of how to proceed until he heard an order transmitting through the Dracos’ hive mind. All the planes must be repaired. Our survival depends on it. Do whatever it takes. A different voice followed. Find salvage parts. The silent messages prompted the UN leader to say to his men, “Let’s search the areas away from the bases for salvage parts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll decide which sites to search first, but before I do…” He adjusted his belt. “I need to take a piss.” Two empty Diet Coke cans sat on his desk. He got up. The officers stood at attention as he left.
Commander Lewis made his way down the unlit hallway. The latrine door had been propped open with a wooden wedge, allowing the sunlight from an office window across the hall to filter in. He walked to the porcelain urinal, hidden in the shadows, unzipping his fly.
That’s when Zachary and his band of trolls arrived behind the UN leader, remaining invisible. The young man checked to make sure they were alone, then transformed himself and the assassination team into a semi-transparent state. Next, he made the trolls’ clubs become physical, which caused the well-used weapons to emit a pungent odor.
Commander Lewis sniffed in disgust as he urinated, assuming someone either forgot to flush the toilet or the sewer line was backed up. He zipped up his pants, then turned around, coming face to face with the shadowy ogres. He didn’t have time to comprehend the bizarre sight before one of the trolls swung a club at his head. The blunt force killed the hybrid instantly.
One of the trolls picked up the body, holding it up like a rag doll, gruffly saying, “Go now.”
There was no time to delay. Blood trickled out of the UN leader’s cracked skull, and the uniform needed to be kept spotless. The trolls put their hairy hands on top of each other’s, and Zachary put his hand on top of theirs, transporting all of them back to their village.
The women, children and warriors-in-waiting cheered upon their arrival. But there was still work to be done. The uniform needed to be delivered to the UN impostor, and it needed to be done quickly before the dead commander’s absence raised questions. Zachary made the uniform invisible, which caused the flesh-and-blood body to tumble out of it, collapsing onto the ground.
A female troll grabbed the corpse, dragging it over to a cauldron that hung over a fire. She picked up an ax and chopped off the man’s arm, throwing it into the simmering stew.
Zachary grimaced and turned away from the grisly scene, saying to the warriors, “The next part I will do alone.” The trolls grunted angrily at the prospect of being left behind. They were only slightly pacified when he assured them, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
The young man went to another part of Alteria—to where the Bear Claw tribe resided. Billy was waiting for him near the lake, standing in the shade of a tree.
“Ready?” Zachary asked him.
Billy nodded. “So the deed is done?”
“Yes, and we need to hurry.” Zachary held out the uniform that Billy needed to put on.
Billy removed his black hat, revealing a military-styled crew cut. His long hair had been sacrificed for the mission. Zachary tried to hide his shock at the difference the haircut made in the man’s appearance. Somewhat embarrassed, Billy ran his hand over his short hair, saying to his friend, “Not a word,” then he stripped down to his skivvies and got dressed, pulling on the jacket sleeves to lengthen them. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was close enough. He said, “Let’s go.”
Invisible, the two of them emerged inside the dark unoccupied latrine. The coast was clear, so Zachary changed Billy’s body into a physical form, advising him, “Last office on your left.”
Billy strode down the hallway.
The officers, who had been impatiently waiting for their commander to return, stood to salute when Billy entered the room. The unknown UN leader didn’t fit the usual profile, but he wore the right uniform. He nodded at the men as he walked past them, sitting behind the desk.
Without missing a beat, Billy swiveled in his chair, facing the officers. “At ease. Have a seat.”
The officers glanced at each other as they sat down, wondering what was going on.
Billy introduced himself, “Name’s Commander White…” He caught himself before saying the last part of his name. “I’ll be in charge from here on out.”
This change of commanders was so sudden and strange, it left the officers confused. After all, who leaves in the middle of an important meeting?
One inquired, “Sir, Commander Lewis didn’t mention anything about being replaced.”
“Yes…it was unexpected. Now can you fill me in on what’s going on here? And can someone get me a coffee?”
“Yes, sir,” another officer answered, “but it’s brewed on a propane stove so you’ll have to excuse the taste. Bitter as hell, sir.”
“That’ll be just fine.” Billy was pleased no one suspected he was an impostor, because he planned to hinder all their efforts of repairing the damage caused by the EMP strike.
The rock folk had lived in this lush valley for as long as they could remember. There were no males, mostly because they weren’t needed. To reproduce, each female simply broke off the tip of a finger, planted it in a mound she had built, and then waited for it to grow. After decades of gestation, eventually a rock baby crawled out from the dirt to be welcomed by its extended family. All of the rock folk had been spawned from the same stone, making their kinship fiercely loyal.
Their faces were lifted toward the red sun that warmed their hard bodies, infusing them with its energy. They were praying for their safety during the impending attacks.
When Cecile arrived, the rock folk sensed her presence and turned to look at her with their vague eyes, which were nothing more than slight indentations in their faces. The stone warriors got to their feet, moving their heavy legs toward the visitor.
The first to reach Cecile said, “Welcome, I am Feldmar.” When she spoke, her hands moved with graceful gestures despite her bulky frame. “We’ve been waiting for your arrival.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Cecile Two Feathers.”
“The pleasure is ours.”
Cecile told them, “What we’re about to do isn’t remotely pleasant.”
“We are aware of this.”
“Then we should go.” Cecile held out her hand. Feldmar gently placed her coo
l palm on top of hers.
Inside the headquarters of the Xiangshui Hsu Air Base, a worried UN leader sat in his office. His cold-blue eyes stared at the Asian officers standing stiffly in front of his desk. He said to them, “I sense something’s wrong. Double the guards around the perimeters.”
“Yes, sir!” the officers responded in unison, saluting, and then marching out the door.
Cecile and Feldmar arrived behind the UN leader, who could not see the invisible pair. Since no one else was in the room, the Earth Sentinel made the stone warrior become physical. The UN leader caught a glimpse of Feldmar out of the corner of his eye, but, before he could turn his head, she pounded down on his skull with her rugged fist. The dead commander fell over his desk, bumping his face on the metal surface before sliding out of his chair and onto the floor.
Cecile moved quickly to grasp Feldspar’s hand while reaching down to touch the hybrid’s shoulder, taking all three of them out of there.
The blue-skinned king lounged on an oversized cushion resembling a giant lotus flower, propping himself up with one of his four arms. He wore a gold crown with a sculpted cobra in its center and an elaborately embroidered red sherwani that draped regally over his muscular body. There were a dozen four-armed warriors stationed nearby, who wore free-flowing black pants and stood with two arms crossed over their bare chests while their other arms hung by their sides ready to grasp, at a moment’s notice, the curved swords tucked inside their waistbands.
The king was pleased by Tom’s arrival and stood to formally greet him, speaking in a deep smooth voice, “Welcome to Ventura. I am King Shavore. My men are most honored to be of service.”
Tom replied, “Your help is greatly appreciated.”
“As is yours. I’ve handpicked my best fighters. May the gods bless our cause.”
“Thank you. Are they ready now?”
“They are.”
“Good, but I only need one at a time.”
Earth Sentinels Collection Page 38
