by J E Kerry
The two new friends exchange a laugh and shift their focus back to space where a Black Hole opens, shaking the universe to its very core as the draconian Lur-aan Dark Fleet, with their highly advanced space carriers, ambushers, rippers, hunters and shredders, arrive in the galaxy.
Meanwhile on the Lyr-an mothership. The 3D avatar of an erotic Lyr-an Druid Dancer wearing an almost similar tribal costume to the one of a human belly-dancer, illuminates the sky while the Lyr-an tribal druid choir and its druid drummers invite everyone to gather around the Crystal Tower and join the wedding ceremony that is already in full swing.
The Pleiadi-an Prince El-ruir, long blond hair, tall, good-looking with strong Nordic features, and Princess Dha-loo-ma are being wed. They are surrounded by beautiful alien butterflies, of which some are attached to the wedding dress, and their parents, the Pleiadi-an King and Queen, as well as Queen Ce-loo-me, standing by.
The royal couple exchanges an intimate look and commences with the vow, communicating telepathically in Saren.
“Blood to Blood, bone to bone,” Dha-loo-ma begins and El-ruir echoes next to her as they use an ancient Lyr-an ivory knife to scratch each other’s palms and bond their hands.
Blood to Blood, bone to bone.
I give you my body, my soul and my life.
Sealed for eternity by the ivory knife.
“You may unite now,” the priest announces the couple husband and wife.
The newlyweds celebrate their union with a tender Hongi-kiss while the Lyr-ans on the ground of the Crystal Tower throw their hands in the air and send a collective energy prayer up to the balcony, becoming part of the union while the drums and tribal musical voices spread into all corners of the ship.
In contrast to this love-filled occasion, out in space, the Lyr-an Fighters execute an offensive attack on the Dark Fleet in the silent vacuum. The enemy returns fire and proceeds in direction of the mothership.
Blocking the way, Wang’s fighter chases a Lur-aan Ambusher across some asteroids and destroys it before turning back to the dangerous space-battlefield, where his unit is under heavy attack.
The ambusher is a large battleship, irregularly shaped with smooth, sloped tops that come down to a slightly curved bump where the control room should be. It clearly has several occupied floors stacked atop one another and with odd protruding compartments that hang freely below it like unused legs. It has no visible weapons but bristles with jagged edged drop-offs and hangar bays that hold smaller craft, called ‘rippers’, hundreds of which swarm in attack formation in insect-like clusters out of the ambusher.
Philipe and Jee are busy chasing a Lur-aan Ripper when they are shot and hurled through space.
Shaped like winged missiles, the rippers are combat craft designed to hold but one individual with a strong capacity for quick movement and versatility in combat.
“Jee!” Philipe shouts.
The 007-like Mhaxi helps Philipe regain control over their fighter and bring it back into position by using his cybernetically advanced Visuals.
Outside on the surface, the craft self-heals its cracks and looks as good as new.
The fluffy co-pilot thought-creates two super trendy space-sunglasses, floating in the cockpit. They put them on, looking ‘gangster’, and are ready to get back to business.
“Game on, snakos!” Philipe howls excited, Jee joining in with his incredibly cute charm. The two are literally a match made in heaven. They high five and rodeo cheering through space while aiming for the center of battlefield-action.
Brian and his Mhaxi are chased by a very dangerous Lur-aan Hunter.
These craft are shaped like over-sized plasma pistols, with two bladed sections pushing toward each other underneath the hull, similar to landing gear. Running alongside each are pipe-like compartments directly connected to two pointed tubes coming forward like mandibles on a termite, capable of releasing large bursts of destructive energy.
“You gotta be kiddin’,” Brian says, unnerved.
He connects via his Visuals with Rahul who’s close-by.
“Dude now would be a good time for distraction,” he is nearly yelling.
Rahul follows behind, the sound of his pounding heart completely overtaking his higher senses, firing non-stop at a Lur-aan Shredder.
Nearly nine times the size of the hunters, shredders are large combat craft, bristling with weaponry and several layers of protective armor. Operation compartments stand atop its head, with a particularly large cannon rising from its center diagonally toward the sky; so, it has to lean forward in order to initiate direct fire.
“Gimme a second,” Rahul busily responds. “I have to finish up this idiot shredder.”
Brian tries his best to lose the tail, sitting up in his seat to look over the shoulder, “Please hurry!” An expert evasive maneuver takes him out of the line of direct fire but not to safety just yet, “That hunter is playing with my spaceballs,” he adds. Were this in the atmosphere it might have been more effective, but not even the Zero-G combat training prepared him for how wildly his craft would almost steer off course as result of his move.
Just as Rahul’s craft enters close enough proximity to help Brian’s and distract the hunter, his friend’s fighter is forcefully torn away and pulled toward the Black Hole the Dark Fleet arrived from.
Once Brian is within the pull of the Black Hole, it is done. All versions of Brian’s future are drawn into the all-powerful gravitational pull. There is no escape.
The jet spins helplessly towards the hole and vanishes into the unknown.
Rahul watches his friend’s fighter disappear with slack-jawed impotence as the communication breaks into darkness and he finds himself gaping into space.
“Noooo!!!!! Brian,” Rahul screams.
He’s petrified with horror, tears pearling down his cheeks and behind his protective helmet.
“I’m so sorry...,” he sobs, nearly going limp at the controls while his Mhaxi, like a second, back-up brain, quickly takes over the craft to escape another attack. Rahul, however, stares out blankly to where Brian’s craft was only moments ago, trying to realize what had just happened.
Back On the balcony of the Lyr-an mothership, the Pleiadi-an prince reaches his hands out to Dha-loo-ma, and they begin with the creation of a spherical energy cocoon, accompanied by the tribal drums’ vibrating frequency.
Dark Lord Uruk-maan (Uruk-maan), overlord of the Lur-aan Command and a gigantic reptilian creature, suddenly materializes in front of the wedding couple, almost sending them stumbling over backward.
At the very least fifteen feet tall, if not more, this white scaled thing peers down at them on its appearance with beady golden eyes that stick onto them with such an intensity it looks like he’s literally incapable of turning them somewhere else. The size of both the reptile’s arms and legs belie the strength he possesses, enough to crush bones and break bodies with long, scaled fingers that act as the foundation for black and brown claws of jagged bone that look to be serrated at their bottom.
With what appears like a casual handwave, but is in truth a blow capable of killing an adult man with a single strike, Uruk-maan shatters the spherical cocoon.
Down on the ground, the music continues while panic breaks among the Lyr-ans as Uruk-maan’s hybrid Dark Force of Lur-aan soldiers materializes out of a portal.
The music continues while panic breaks as Uruk-maan’s hybrid Dark Force of Lur-aan soldiers materializes on the ground.
They move in unison, nearly as tall as Uruk-maan himself but with green, scale-pealed skin, initiating an attack.
The Lyr-ans immediately grab their children and flee into all directions as they are targeted with plasma beams and de-materialize into thin air.
A Lyr-an woman throws herself in front of her 5-year-old daughter, begging to spare the innocent child, “Please don’t take her!”
The Lur-aan soldier ignores the woman’s cry for mercy and instead charges his silver plasma spear, blasting her into tiny particles. The mother vap
orizes from the crying child as the monstrous creature lifts the scared girl up and attaches a fist-sized alien device to the neck, letting her tearful, angelic eyes change color from silver to red. He then puts the girl down and opens a portal by touching an inbuilt black Cintamani piece on the chest of his armor. The child walks willingly into that portal and disappears with the others into the unknown.
The devastated Pleiadi-an prince, his parents and the priest de-materialize into safety through a fully automated emergency protocol while Ce-loo-me and Dha-loo-ma bravely face the Dark Lord on their own as the giant reptilian extends his electromagnetic loaded tail at them.
“Hold!” Ce-loo-me telepathically shouts in draconian language with the intention to distract him.
It seems to work as Uruk-maan stalls, intrigued by the queen’s courage and her ability of fluently speaking in his mother tongue.
“I will bring what you desire,” she then says, keeping her composure.
The draconian overlord closes the gap between them and approaches the queen with a predatory stare of lizardly fashion that is the sort of psychopathic look of peering directly through one’s soul and to the essence of what a being is at the end of it: A collection of varied biological parts that make up an individual, and the consciousness that is tied to it. Things that can be pulled apart, quite literally, an arm and a leg apart. This is the message sent silently to the queen the closer he approaches.
“Your ancestors broke the balance that once existed between our worlds,” he answers with his deep voice, reminding of the one that could belong to a wise medieval dragon of ancient myths. “What makes you think you can bring back what I desire?”
“I offer to trade my daughter,” the queen says without flinching.
“Mother?” Dha-loo-ma’s voice cracks into a thousand pieces.
The queen stone-cold ignores her daughter’s fear in order to protect them from displaying any weakness and instead keeps her face as she continues with the demand.
“Give me your word you won’t harm the Princess, and I promise to retrieve the last Cintamani pieces of Ki,” Ce-loo-me angles to strike a deal by letting Uruk-maan enter her soul via his vibrational X-Ray ability. What he doesn’t know, Ce-loo-me is already ten steps ahead of him, thanks to the time-loop that has given her the chance to find the perfect strategy of finally breaking it.
For weeks she injected herself with a re-produced sample of the Um-sharr blood which she had learned from Um-ussie would protect her soul from being read by any kind of reptilian species. With a little extra nano-hencers (nano robotic enhancers) from Um-ussies cave-lab, Ce-loo-mee’s blood is now able to help block any invasive soul-reading activities and let her create an undetectable artificial domain that would only reveal what she needs Uruk-maan to see, so he will trust her.
Her plan is working. Uruk-maan pulls out of her soul after having searched for any clues that might lead to a foul play.
“You break that promise, and everyone dies,” he says with a last low pitch.
The queen nods agreeing, but there’s something else in her eyes, screaming for a bigger plan behind it all.
Tears stream from Dha-loo-ma’s face. She remains silent and in shock. Without saying goodbye, the princess follows after Uruk-maan into the dimensional portal. Her steps are small and mindless, and her eyes appear glazed by disbelief as the portal closes.
“It worked,” Ce-loo-me thinks in Saren as Dha-loo-ma (from the future) reveals herself behind the queen and they commence with their telepathic conversation.
“And now?” Dha-loo-ma wants to know.
The queen looks down the balcony, “We continue according to plan. I’ve just bought us some more time”.
“What about me?” Dha-loo-ma wants to know as she uses her face-inducer to transforms back into her original self, Mai-loo-na, the ‘Warrior Princess’.
The queen steps closer and caresses her daughter’s scarred face.
“I’m so very proud of you, Mai-loo-na,” Ce-loo-me smiles at her. “Continue to play the role of your twin sister and keep the ‘Dragon’ close.”
Mai-loo-na bows respectfully, remaining a living mystery.
“He is the key,” the queen reminds her second daughter, “to everything that is yet to come”.
Exotic alien butterflies flutter overhead like little pixies, the most ignorant and most blissful creatures in the sky. Their consistent behavior is much as it was before the initiation of ceremony and brings back the subtle sense of peace they fostered before all this.”
The Council of Agartha
* JANUARY 4, 1945 *
A starved and pale Agni, eye-rings as black as the night, her head completely shaved, walks tired in the row of incarcerated women.
It is the day she has seen and drawn before. The day, her life would finally change from darkness into the light, closing the planetary cycle she once signed up for. The day, heaven would open its portal for her return with motherly open arms. The day, everything would come to an end and hail with a new beginning.
It is the day of her death, the most bittersweet moment of her life, filled with love, peace of mind and self-reflection rather than tears or sorrow. Even in this hopeless situation, she is conscious about the bigger picture, the role she plays in the evolution of mankind on Earth. Conscious, about the past, present and future of Earth. Conscious, about the importance of Qi.
The group stops above a corpse-filled ditch that holds the husk-like remnants of starved-looking bodies, piled with indignity atop one another. The women lined up are in various states of reaction, with some like Agni, staring up and forward in outward defiance, others with forlorn expressions, eyes fixed to the ground before them.
Nazi Wehrmacht soldiers go into position behind them and ready their rifles.
“Umdrehn!” (turn around) one of them yells.
The 10 women follow the order, some of them weeping and shivering under their dirty clothes, thin as paper. In the very last moment of her life, Agni tries to calm her fellow inmates and begins to sing with her beautiful opera voice the second movement of the Gorecki. The lyrics are a reminder of the 18-year-old girl Helena Wanda Blazusiakówna who was incarcerated in a Gestapo prison in Zakopane, Poland, on 25 September 1944, and wrote these words on the walls of the prison. She knew that she would die soon, so she left this message on the wall for her mother to read.
One by one, hands are locked, joining in a chorus; ready to die.
O Mamo nie placz nie ;
Niebios Przeczysta Królowo ;
Ty zawsze wspieraj mnie
“Oh mother do not cry; immaculate Queen of Heaven; support me always,” Agni sings.
The Wehrmacht exchange a confused look but proceed with their execution by taking a step forward and aiming for their targets.
As the first snowflakes land on Agni’s angelic face, she looks up singing into the sky. Two seconds later, a bullet hits the mother of four, the savior of many souls, the biggest clairvoyant of Poland, right between the eyes.
She exhales one last time as the warm blood pools down her graceful nose and melts the icy snowflakes on her snow-white skin.
Before the blood can reach her naked toes, Agni falls backwards into the corpse-filled ditch, with the sun breaking through the cloudy, January sky being the last thing she’ll ever see, her last words, breathing “I am freed”.
∞∞∞
* THE YEAR 2341*
A Lyr-an craft shoots into a waterfall and journeys through the deep cave pathway inside one of the mountains.
Wang and Dha-loo-ma use their trip across the cavern for a brief small-talk. Especially Wang hopes to press the princess for more answers.
“I’ve heard about your friend,” Dha-loo-ma carefully addresses the big elephant in the cockpit.
“Yeah,” Wang sighs. “He didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry to hear,” the princess says, trying to show her respect as she knows all too well how it feels to lose a crew member during battle.
/> An awkward atmosphere lies between them.
“So, the loop is broken now?” Wang asks after a long moment of silence.
“Yes,” Dha-loo-ma replies, busying herself with an incoming alien message, and swiping through the holo-sphere.
“Where are we exactly heading to?” Wang wants to know further. “And what about the SFB and the Council?”
“We’re on our way to a secret meeting,” the princess explains. “The SFB and the Council are dealing with the Rebels. They won’t miss us. To their understanding we’re still in the past.”
The Lyr-an craft enters a secret underground base that reminds of a busy airport with alien vehicles zipping in and out every two minutes as they disappear into various portals that open and close like the automatic doors of a train.
“I see,” Wang says. “So, this meeting... It’s inside the mountain?” he wonders while observing the busy traffic unfolding in front of them.
Dha-loo-ma closes the transmission.
“At Agartha,” she winks,” the center of Ki.”
The craft passes right through a camouflage shield, hovering swiftly into another cave, littered with bio-luminescent wonders of subterranean nature. The walls, ceiling and floor are occupied by a bevy of horned and crowned coral, turning toward circles and semi circles, giving off scattered shades of blue and white light that contrast the red and pink of hanging stalactites, almost resembling jellyfish in their appearance.
Their vehicle is expertly piloted through and scoots out of the darkness into a radiant blue sky.
The artificial sun of Inner Earth radiates inward toward Dha-loo-ma’s Lyr-an craft, as if its light was coming from all directions at once.
The atmosphere of Inner Earth is that there is no significant means to expel such light and heat, creating an almost irradiating effect.
The landscape itself matches the unfamiliar intensity with a steady mat of green, all the way to the skyline.
Untamed trees grow wild and without hindrance, their roots occasionally reaching above ground.
