Earth vs Alien
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Copyright © 2019 by Ronald D. Thompson.
Printed in the United Kingdom
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording without the permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, persons living or dead is coincidental or they are used fictitiously. Cover design and layout by www.spiffingcovers.com
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: New Manhattan
Chapter 2: Revenge Trap
Chapter 3: Stave’s Mission
Chapter 4: Abduction 3
Chapter 5: Multi Probability Factor
Chapter 6: Earth Call
Chapter 7: Larquiston Conference
Chapter 8: Home Visit – 2018
Chapter 9: Time Travel Jeopardy
Chapter 10: Dane’s Promise
Chapter 11: Stealth Mission
Chapter 12: The Great Entrance
Chapter 13: Alien Imposters
Chapter 14: Alien Space Station
Chapter 15: The Delivery
Chapter 16: The Council of the Light
Chapter 17: A Torturous Flight
Chapter 18: The Squalors Terms
Chapter 19: The Intruder
Chapter 20: Hologram Arena
Chapter 21: The Squalor Return
Chapter 22: The Underground
Chapter 23: The Body Double
Chapter 24: The Conference
Chapter 25: 2018 Meets 2218
Chapter 26: The Rebel Revolt
Chapter 27: Torture Cylinder
Chapter 28: The Time Conundrum
Chapter 29: Sisters Torn
Chapter 30: Stave in 2018
Chapter 31: Human Alliance
Chapter 32: Dane’s Dilemma
Chapter 33: The Unchanged Timeline
Chapter 34: The Rebellion is Underway
Chapter 35: Anchorax Returns
Chapter 36: The Serenix Factor
Chapter 37: The Virus
Chapter 38: The Deal
Chapter 39: Twin Imposters
Chapter 40: Stave’s Salvation
CHAPTER 1
NEW MANHATTAN
The night sky glistened. The sun was setting on another day in New Manhattan. The red sky was as it had been on countless occasions during the millions of years of Earth’s existence.
The year 2218; the date 18th January − the skyline dominated by the architecture of the alien-occupying race. The trademark centrepiece, the black pyramids, stood proudly 300 metres high; shiny, imposing and reflecting a perfect mirror image of the night sky. Even though Robert Stave resented the Olympianas with a passion, he had to admit to himself that their technology was a marvel to behold. Although the occupying race of aliens purported to originate from Earth, they were still impostors in Robert’s eyes; ‘the sooner we rid our planet of this scourge the better’, thought Robert.
The city was occupied and ruled by the Volkans; a family spearheading the endeavour to rule. Robert would take great pleasure in killing any family member with his bare hands, given the chance.
Robert was out with his good friend Ansell Tobias. The city, now patrolled by the occupying race, imposed no-go areas; signs indicated exactly what risk the offending human took, should he find himself meandering into unrestricted territory.
The signs read:
‘Trespassers will be eaten’.
Not ‘Trespassers may be eaten’ or ‘Trespassers beware’, simply that they would be eaten.
Robert and Ansell were drunk. Very drunk.
Ansell squinted trying to focus on the sign while swaying precariously from side to side. The sign was big enough, the holographic projected words clearly spelled out the danger, but for some inexplicable reason it was not registering with Ansell.
‘Sod it!’ said Ansell in a defiant manner as he began to walk past the sign, into the no-go zone.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ yelled Robert. There was no reaction from his friend as he ignored Robert’s question and continued to walk. ‘Hey! Come back, man!’ pleaded Robert.
‘Fuck the Drayzaks!’ shouted his friend defiantly.
Drayzaks donned a necklace, a censored device, worn to administer an electric shock should the creature venture beyond the confined space. The electric pulse emanating from the necklace would render a Drayzak deceased or virtually dead. Ansell had reduced this deterrent of venturing past the point of safety, to zero, by his action.
The area in New Manhattan, solely occupied by Drayzaks, was nicknamed the ‘Death Zone’. It allowed these monstrous creatures a free reign − the region measured approximately a quarter of the city. An invisible field, one that would not harm anyone who wasn’t decorated with the censor device, surrounded this sector.
The Drayzaks came out of nowhere. They circled the space above Ansell. At first, just one or two, but within minutes many were following. A Drayzak landed, complete with his necklace and snorted loudly; with his mouth wide open he screeched, a piercing, deafening scream. Ansell stood and watched as he confronted the Drayzak; his friend Robert froze.
‘Come on!’ goaded Ansell. ‘God, you’re an ugly son of a bitch. Give it your best shot!’
Robert stared. He couldn’t quite believe the drama unfolding, as everything appeared to play out in slow motion. By now a small crowd had gathered behind Robert, all of who were barking instructions in Ansell’s direction, to evacuate the ‘no-go zone’.
‘What is he doing?’ a passer-by asked Robert.
‘He’s drunk, lost his mind or something.’
‘You know, they’ll rip him apart, limb by limb, drunk or no drunk. You’re right; must be out of his mind.’
‘Move back, everyone!’ instructed Robert, pushing his right arm behind him to accentuate his command. He crouched down, pulled a weapon out beneath his trousers strapped to the calf of his left leg and aimed at the Drayzak. Robert turned to check that the crowd behind had taken heed of his instruction.
The weapon Robert was grasping tightly in front with both hands was illegal. The drones patrolling the city would soon pick up the action taking place. Robert would be shot on sight, no questions asked. At best, he would have a few minutes to rescue Ansell; otherwise neither would see the sunset tomorrow.
Ansell staggered from side to side as the Drayzak sized up his next meal. The scaly body lit by the sun’s rays reflected the full horror of this deathly creature and, with blood red eyes bulging, it looked even more menacing in the colourful evening light.
It ran towards its prey. The bat-like wings fanned out, preparing the creature for flight once its prey was captured.
Ansell, also armed, instantly pulled a knife from underneath his left lower arm − the sheath had been harbouring the weapon. It was a huntsman’s knife equipped with large corrugated teeth, enough to slay the Drayzak, pending a strike to the heart.
A shot.
With precision aim, Robert expertly hit the creature between the eyes. He was used to conflict; for years he had mingled with the underground rebels. This weapon was also illegal, a nuclear fused ZX900, capable of exterminating a tank at 1000 metres. The rebels regularly raided the ‘no-go zone’ area in pursuit of Drayzaks. It was considered normal since the occupation of Earth, by the alien races 200 years ago; the ongoing war for occupation totally demoralising what remained of the human contingent.
The head of the beast exploded. The torso of the Drayzak collapsed. Ansell’s white collarless shirt pebble-dashed by the remains of the creature’s brain splattering spectacularly over an area of 10
metres, coating everything in its path.
A cheer went up from the crowd observing the action.
‘Ansell!’ shouted Robert. ‘Get the hell out of there!’
Ansell turned to face Robert; the shock of the blast immediately brought him to his senses. Three Drayzaks were swooping down, enraged and hungry, looking to avenge the death of one of their own. Ansell lifted his arm up to cover the evening sun that pierced his eyes and ran towards his friend. Robert looked up to take aim − he would have to be accurate and take all three down if he stood a remote chance of saving Ansell from an agonising death. The drones would be here any second, just to add to his worry.
‘Drone!’ shouted the passer-by. There it was, about 100 metres high, some 300 metres in the distance. ‘I’ll distract it, crouch down and get rid of the weapon. They mustn’t find that weapon on you, else you’re dead.’
The crowd surrounded Robert to block the vision of the drone. One of them had smashed a plant pot earlier, one of many decorating the sidewalk; the crowd then proceeded to throw a broken pot towards the Drayzaks. Hurtling missiles wouldn’t get you killed by a drone but would certainly distract them − a better option than certain death. Each of the perpetrators would be recognised instantly by the drones − face recognition technology plus a complete database of the entire city’s inhabitants assured identification. A hefty fine for hooliganism was preferable to an early grave, if found to be armed.
‘Too late, man! I told you to get rid of the weapon. It’s too late for your friend but I don’t want to be a dead man due to your stupidity!’ shouted the passer-by.
The first Drayzak caught Ansell; he was only five metres away from safety.
The passer-by was right. It was too late for Robert’s friend.
**************************************
New Manhattan was a far cry from the vibrant city it had once been before the alien wars. Gone was the trademark landscape, the iconic buildings, which depicted a world-renowned financial centre and a thriving entertainment capital − Madison Square Garden, Times Square, the Empire State Building and Wall Street − all long gone. A result of the many years of the battle for control.
The capitals of the world had endured the same arduous conflict. For the once dominant species it was a case of damage limitation. Humans had no reply to the super intelligence of the far more advanced aliens; they were left to the mercy of the species that won control of their territory.
The Council of the Light had intervened to try to rescue some semblance of order during the great wars. Evidence presented by the species fighting for dominance only complicated the issue. Those from the planet Olympiana had argued that as they originated from Earth, well before the current human species evolved, it was a strong case. The Zaagans from Zarduzian were adamant that they had a footprint and could produce a firm case for proportional propagation rights. The Undarthians, led by the descendants of Dane Vhastek, had propagated Earth with far more vigour; their argument that the Zaagan claim was spurious at best. Trollozytes, originally an Undarthian ally, were now hellbent on capitalisation of the planet’s resources; they had now joined the party, not to mention the splinter group formed by the squalors from Zarduzian as well as an array of mutants and rebels.
The Earth is a mess in 2218. Each territory segregated, each with its own autonomy, each with its own invisible wall of electromagnetic field and each subjected to battles with alternate alien species wishing to gain control. A vicious circle.
New Manhattan was under the dictatorship of the Volkans − the military might of the species emanating from Olympiana. These were the most despised of the alien species, aliens who ruled by fear, utilising humans, either for their own purpose or back home in Olympiana; the portal was widely used to ship human slaves as additional labour or as sex objects on their home planet.
Humans had objected and put in a complaint to the Council of the Light, to no avail.
At least the aliens from Olympiana spoke in the same tongue as the human inhabitants − English − a mystery to the human inhabitants of the city.
****************************************
Ansell was now ten metres or so in the air, screaming in agony as the Drayzak tried to escape with his meal, to devour the catch in the comfort of his own space. The gathering of Drayzaks, akin to a flock of seagulls wrangling over breadcrumbs, had other ideas. A mêlée of frantic muscle flexing saw a challenge to the rights to this meal to just the one Drayzak. The competition for food was fierce, especially humans, a much sought-after dish.
Robert looked on in horror as the Drayzaks ripped his friend apart. He would have been dead in the first 30 seconds if he hadn’t have passed out sooner; that at least was a blessing. Fragments of Ansell’s shirt fell like confetti, a testimony to the gruesome battle for a piece of him. The clang on the ground drew Robert’s attention. The corrugated knife had been of little use for his drunk friend had grossly underestimated the force of the opposition and the alcohol had grossly over-estimated, in his mind, the chances of surviving such an offensive action.
The drone was now overhead; several more had been alerted to the commotion and were heading in the general direction. Each member of the crowd, now expertly identified by the approaching drone, was subject to punishment at a later date. For the moment, the best form of action for the crowd was to dissipate, to fight the battle against their punishment once the dust settled, with the benefit of legal representation.
There were so many no-go areas in the city that the crowd, through panic, couldn’t get their bearings. Most of the crowd followed whoever was leading the retreat from the drone’s territorial dominance. Robert knew exactly where to run.
The passer-by was called Andre Burscalli.
‘Hey, follow me!’ shouted Robert to Andre. Instinctively, Andre followed.
‘Where are we heading?’ asked Andre.
‘Just follow and stay close or you might lose me. If you lose me, you’re dead.’
New Manhattan had designated areas of the city. Even those areas humans were allowed to access were patrolled by the dominant alien power. The alien security, commonly known as Death Guards would, without hesitation, rid the planet of a human life for as little as an offensive stare.
‘The guards are closing,’ stated Andre. ‘We’re as good as dead.’
‘You want to live? Then shut up and stay close,’ replied Robert, who at this moment was not remotely in the mood for unnecessary conversation.
Robert darted up an alley, Andre close behind with a drone following at his heels. Robert pulled out a device, an electronic zapper and pressed the contraption. A circular, steel manhole covering disappeared beneath the road surface, a direct result of the strange device. It was odd, as you couldn’t distinguish the object until Robert activated its descent remotely.
‘What the hell is that?’ asked Andre.
‘Freedom!’ replied Robert.
The men had reached the escape hole within seconds. The drone, a three metre wide, circular, black, killing machine was rapidly closing in; Death Guards were approaching Robert and Andre from an opposite direction − within 20 seconds they would both be toast.
‘Follow me, quickly,’ instructed Robert as he descended into the hole using the steel ladder embedded in the passage below.
Robert descended about three metres when he saw the figure of Andre block out what little sunlight was left of the sunset above. The tunnel beneath was lit crudely but enough for Robert to determine that Andre was safely beneath the surface.
Robert used his zapper and the circular steel plug began to block the entrance.
Above, the Death Guards were closing fast, a posse of three. Their technology was frightening for they moved by way of a gravity-repellent force. Full body armour, pure black almost for menacing effect, was impenetrable. The electromagnetic force field built into the armour was an embedded facility, which ensured absolute protection for the guard; nothing would penetrate the field.
T
he ladder was about ten metres in length. Both Robert and Andre descended and, even without communication, neither had to emphasise to the other the urgency of steering clear of the surface.
‘How far down do we go?’ asked Andre.
‘Nearly there,’ replied Robert.
The plug was securely locked and would keep the guards at bay. Territorial advantage was now in Robert’s favour.
‘The Guards! They’ll be here any second!’ shouted Andre.
‘No chance,’ replied Robert. ‘The rebels won’t allow it. Out of bounds for the aliens down here!’
The underground was where the resistance gathered. Those who wanted to fight back against their imprisonment imposed by an alien race − considered as an infringement of their human rights − had formulated the rebellion. The aliens had allowed a co-existence to some degree, one that heavily favoured the impostors; the rebels had other ideas.
The Council of the Light had ordered that humans be allowed areas within the city deemed ‘safe areas’. Whilst Death Guards patrolled those sections of the city acting as the self-appointed police, they were not allowed to pursue victims unnecessarily or use unreasonable force, thus preventing the Guards from venturing below ground.
The rebels were feared; there were no rules underground and the technology that had been stolen from the occupying alien race would put them on a fairly equal footing.
Robert and Andre reached the base of the ladder and walked along a dimly lit corridor, finally reaching a steel door. The door was solid, two feet thick, impenetrable and booby-trapped. Robert looked into the small camera; circular and about 80 millimetres in diameter, the eyepiece was complete with retina recognition. The door opened.
‘Where are we?’ asked Andre. ‘By the way, I don’t even know your name,’ a rather amusing and belated question. Robert’s wry smile reflected the fact.
‘Robert, Robert Stave.’
‘Andre Burscalli.’
‘You’re safe down here, Andre. Rebel Headquarters. You heard of the Resistance?’ asked Robert as Andre followed him into a fully operational, very busy rebel basement.
‘There are rumours, but I never realised this was so well organised,’ replied Andre.