Earth vs Alien

by Ronald D Thompson

  ‘That’s what the tablet indicates. We have signalled through to security and your warrior will be taken to a secure wing where we evaluate the problem. You have been on planet Earth some time now so it’s perfectly understandable. We have to do this, you understand, as it takes time for an alien virus to take hold. Your length of time on Earth has been identified and these checks are mandatory.’

  ‘Oosapeth looked round at the warrior who had been signalled out. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll check on the situation after my meeting with the Security Council,’ he assured him.

  ‘As a precautionary measure, we will need the others and yourself to be thoroughly sanitised before you meet with security. The situation has been advised to the council,’ said the guard.

  Oosapeth shook his head and again looked up to the skies. ‘So be it but get on with it!’ he barked. The ship stood idle whilst the great mechanical arms moved into position to park the craft clear of the portal, ready for the next arrival. The importance of Oosapeth’s arrival had stirred the operatives around the bay; the delay had clearly caught their attention, an unwelcome distraction. Oosapeth, whilst not wanting to show concern thought to himself – ‘this could be a turning point in the war against Qudor if a virus has infiltrated the ice caves’.

  ****************************

  Oosapeth entered the hall of the Security Council’s building. The hall always impressed him; he had held many an important meeting here during his multitude of quests. Oosapeth was confident of a result; the virus discovery only threw him temporarily. Luckily, the sanity procedure, whilst a little degrading, had passed without any indication that the virus, whatever it was, had spread to other crew members.

  Oosapeth entered the meeting chambers and the guard informed the council of Oosapeth’s demands for a meeting. Heading the meeting was Dural Zeetan, a prominent figure in the council, a Trollozyte who didn’t always agree with Oosapeth’s escapades. He stood tall and proud, complete with a black gown, meticulously kept, which swept on the black, hard, granite-type floor. The look set the tone; Oosapeth didn’t feel good about the next few moments. Either side of Dural were several prominent Security Council members. They hadn’t sent the usual more informal members, instead the big guns – Oosapeth suddenly suspected resistance.

  ‘Oosapeth,’ began Dural, ‘rather a hasty request for a meeting?’

  The council members took their seats. The transparent table made of brintex (an unbreakable alien compound), complete with the latest in hologram technology that centred the oblong table, was testament to the severity of this gathering. The hologram displayed Earth.

  ‘Dural,’ acknowledged Oosapeth.

  ‘We have been analysing the data from your craft and we also have the results of the anomaly which infects your crew member,’ stated Dural, almost as if he was about to pass sentence on the warrior standing before him.

  ‘Enlighten me,’ insisted Oosapeth.

  ‘The virus is unknown. We are investigating, but the plan unfolding on Earth does not please us. This is a war, Oosapeth. We don’t do war – we are galactic brokers, intent on assisting the propagation of life where applicable and also to trade with other planets. This is outside our normal activities.’

  ‘I don’t need a history lesson,’ said Oosapaeth, instantly regretting the outburst.

  ‘I am merely stating the facts. They need to be stated. You have already taken a huge military contingent, already spent far more time on this planet Earth than most of our operations put together. You had at your disposal a portal amplifier, now lost to one Qudor Volkan. We, the Security Council, are looking for not only an explanation but a resolution to this unfortunate dilemma.’

  Oosapeth knew instantly that his request for a space station would draw gasps of despair from the members sat opposite him. He needed a different approach.

  The hologram was evidence that the huge image of Earth was clearly mapping out utter chaos. Oosapeth stood. He always stood when delivering a convincing pitch. He walked around the table while his right hand commanded the holographic image to show enlargements. He was looking for an angle and configuring the image brought him this time.

  ‘Tell me what you see, Dural,’ said Oosapeth studiously, ‘and for the sake of the other members, tell us exactly how you would resolve the situation unfolding. The lost portal amplifier is the least of our worries.’ A shrewd move. Oosapeth knew when to ask questions, when to deflect the attention.

  ‘I see utter chaos – a battle we cannot win, a waste of our military with no benefit to our planet. You have colluded with Dane Vhastek who, I may add, has the responsibility, having sole propagation rights to this planet to sort out this mess.’

  Oosapeth paused. With the hand of a magician, he revolved the image and enlarged the area in Antarctica, specifically to the ice caves. The members looked at each other, puzzled. The rabbit was about to be pulled from the hat.

  ‘Tell me, Dural – tell me about the colonies. We are overrun with villains. Remind me why that is?’

  Dural stuttered somewhat. ‘I… I don’t see what that has to do with this meeting, Oosapeth,’ a now nervous Dural replied.

  ‘It has everything to do with this meeting. You see, not only do we have a problem with corruption, a direct result of your inability to monitor the security of the galactic trade deals, but we also have an abundance of alien undesirables, again, courtesy of your complete inability to secure aliens who inhabit our planet as a result of botched missions. I am surprised, Dural, that you head this meeting. I am surprised greatly that you are still a prominent Security Council member.’

  One of the council members came to Dural’s defence.

  ‘Oosapeth, where exactly are you going with this? As we understand it, you have called a meeting − in ernest, we understand − so we are not here for you to criticize council members. We could, if you like, give chapter and verse on all your unsavoury missions, particularly those that have drawn the attention of the Council of the Light, specifically a portal amplifier incident which culminated in the obliteration of a planet. That involves you, Oosapeth, and you alone! Would you like me to continue?’

  Oosapeth realised he was pushing his luck.

  ‘You get me wrong, contrary to how you may perceive my argument, I am not here to criticise. I am here to merely point out a problem, as we are all aware of those who blight our planet. Is it not prisoners and undesirable aliens? Tell me if I’m wrong,’ continued Oosapeth emphatically.

  Dural intervened. ‘We are all acutely aware of the problem. We are pleased that your more recent expeditions have been more fruitful, less amateur, shall we say, and we, the Security Council, have tightened up on some of our lapses. I really don’t see where this is leading though, Oosapeth. We have the utmost respect for you, a legendary warrior, adored by everyone across our planet, but would you kindly get to the point?’

  ‘Let me say, I know a way of solving both problems. The problem of our over-populated prisons and the need for further warriors to finish the battle on Earth,’ explained Oosapeth, back-peddling away from the image at the centre of the table and returning to adopt a seated position.

  ‘Enlighten us,’ requested Dural, borrowing the term Oosapeth used earlier.

  ‘Colony 7,’ replied Oosapeth.

  An even more bemused look adorned the faces of the council members. Dural stood, flicked back his cloak with vigour and asked, ‘Exactly what do you intend to do with Colony 7?’

  Oosapeth rose again. ‘Use a portal amplifier to move the space station to a position nearer to Earth, observe Qudor’s tactics and use the prison population to fight.’

  ‘Fight, why should they fight?’ asked Dural.

  ‘Because, Dural, it is better than their current existence – extended prison sentences, to endure relentless fear, to see out inordinate sentences beyond their life expectancy. You know how I feel about extended sentencing. Let me take them. They would rather die fighting than endure the misery. Their prize would be freed
om on Earth. What would that matter to us? It also frees up having to use our military for the battle on Earth.’

  Dural pondered. He did not care for this character assassination. His reply was well considered. ‘Tell me, Oosapeth. Exactly what are we to gain from the deployment of all this military arsenal and now Colony 7? Who are we fighting?’

  Oosapeth sensed that the debate was favouring Dural, so he went on the attack. ‘Dane Vhastek saved my daughter, Serenix, from a gruesome death at the hands of the double-crossing Daxzus Zaetsalsae. We have an honour code, or is that not something you conform to, Dural? Please enlighten us,’ requested Oosapeth, playing Dural like a grandmaster chess player.

  ‘No, you enlighten us, Oosapeth! Tell the council, who exactly is this enemy? Why are we fighting Dane Vhastek’s battles?’ A game of tug-of-war ensued.

  ‘The enemy is Qudor Volkan,’ replied Oosapeth, not wishing to elaborate.

  ‘Which planet does this Qudor Volkan reside?’

  ‘The planet Olympiana, close to Earth’s vicinity, a mere two or three light-years apart,’ replied Oosapeth.

  ‘The council are keen to hear how this alien species became so interested in this planet and what drew this volatile species to planet Earth?’

  Oosapeth knew exactly where this conversation was leading. It wasn’t an avenue Oosapeth favoured. Nonetheless, an answer was expected for the Security Council.

  ‘It’s an interesting question. I only know that they are a grave threat to the existence of the species on planet Earth. Our code of honour must be respected. Dane Vhastek and the Undarthians have a footprint on the planet – he saved Serenix. Our allegiance has to be with the Undarthian warrior,’ said Oosapeth. It was a reply, but flawed and he knew it.

  ‘That’s not all though, is it, Oosapeth?’ Dural insisted. ‘Your data suggests that this Qudor Volkan’s ancestors once frequented another planet before Olympiana. Would you be kind enough to tell the council which planet that was, Oosapeth?’ asked Dural. Checkmate!

  ‘You are aware, so why ask? The battle has begun; I am not here to decipher the origins of every species involved in this conflict, Dural. I am here to ask for the council’s help to bring this battle to a successful conclusion,’ explained Oosapeth, deflecting the embarrassment Dural wished to impose.

  ‘Surely the Olympianas trump the Undarthian claim to propagation rights?’

  ‘Not in so far as a hostile takeover! This is an annihilation of the species, a species that did not exist before the Undarthian programme to propagate. The Security of the Light does not favour annihilation. This species from Olympianas are not even registered with the Council of the Light and are afforded no rights, or did you decide not to divulge that aspect of the data?’ asked Oosapeth. ‘I am asking for that space station which will ease the tensions arising over the cost to maintain this prison and alien population. As you are on record as stating, ‘our planet’s undesirables’ lives are prolonged, simply to punish further’. Now, correct me if I am wrong, Dural, isn’t your term as a senior member of this council ending?’

  Two warriors battled, one a true warrior in Dane, the other a warrior of words and power. Dural had to concede that not being a senior member would shortly render his arguments redundant. Dural relented.

  ‘So, Colony 7. You will rid Xenon of the prisoners and transfer the responsibility to planet Earth. Will you swear in front of this council that no more demands will be made?’

  ‘If I am guaranteed immediate access to the space station, then I agree.’

  Dural turned to his other Security Council members. There were mumbles, hushed voices and a few glances in Oosapeth’s direction and the decision was made.

  ‘Request granted,’ concluded Dural reluctantly.

  Oosapeth turned and left without so much as an acknowledgement. Too much time lost. The result of the meeting never in question, but it took longer than expected. Outside the building, guards awaited the decision to be transmitted for the permission to allow Oosapeth use of Colony 7. The mission would also require a portal amplifier – a huge operation was required. Oosapeth approached the guards.

  ‘What of my warrior?’ asked Oosapeth hastily.

  ‘Quarantine until we establish the virus,’ replied the guard, the same one who greeted his return to the city.

  ‘Do I have your word that he will be transported to Colony 7 once given the all clear?’ asked Oosapeth.

  ‘You have my word,’ said the guard.

  The square awash with citizens busying about their business, sprang into action as the guards, around 30, escorted Oosapeth to the craft. His two remaining warriors walked alongside with not a word said – no need. Their commander-in-chief, as usual, was in full command. An entourage of guards escorted the trio to their designated craft; citizens paused, ogled and muttered amongst themselves. This was no ordinary sight for something momentous was taking place.

  With the craft ready, complete with portal amplifier in the bargain, the mission was on track; clearance a mere formality.

  ‘The Commander of Colony 7 has been notified. You will dock, board and deliver your command to the prison guards on board. An on-board craft will return the prisoner guards to the city. You will advise once you have taken control of Colony 7. I will then report back to the Security Council. The instructions are that the cargo, prisoners and aliens alike are under your control and are not to be returned.’

  Oosapeth nodded, eager to depart. The air was clear and the sun blinding while the city went about its business, blissfully unaware of the task that faced their hero. He was desperate to return to the city he loved so much once this mission was complete. Oosapeth was now in control of Colony 7 and the reprobates who occupied it. A glance back at the city he called home, it suddenly dawned on him the enormity of the task ahead. Oosapeth was ready.

  In unison, the guards dispersed in a straight line saluting their commander-in-chief. There wasn’t one guard who wasn’t in awe of their hero, hellbent on another mission, one that would undoubtedly further enhance Oosapeth’s reputation, if successful.

  Slowly, the belly of the craft closed; the clunk confirming that those on board were ready for their mission. The guards retreated and the craft sped into the Xenon sky.

  The docking was automated. Oosapeth’s craft had been given clearance, reducing velocity as it neared the space station. The size was a sight to behold – a massive station the size of a city – black, menacing and sophisticated. The station orbited Xenon slowly. There was no need for speed as the cargo was considered a burden and yet the irony was in the beauty, the serenity of a station that harboured the most undesirable citizens of Xenon.

  ‘Prepare docking,’ instructed Oosapeth. The voice-controlled, on-board computer reacted immediately. Oosapeth and crew were harnessed automatically into their moulded seats; the visual on the holographic image displayed a countdown counter. The lights to the individual prison cells surrounded the station – thousands of cells, the horror of which Oosapeth chose to ignore, for the moment. He would need to address those whose lives had become meaningless. With a ray of hope, quite what reaction he might receive was anyone’s guess.

  A thud, a grinding noise, a final thunderous crunch and the craft had docked. The harnesses of Oosapeth and his two warriors had retreated – they had arrived.

  Oosapeth walked towards the docking tunnel with his two warriors close behind and scanned their retinas through the recognition device at the side of the door. With a clang, access to the space station was granted. His guards followed and not a word was spoken but the subliminal instructions were clearly understood.

  Oosapeth made his entry through the quarantine area of the space station without detention that was not necessary as he had cleared quarantine earlier. Several space station operatives lined the entrance in expectance of this true legend.

  ‘Welcome, Oosapeth!’ greeted one friendly space station engineer.

  ‘I need access to the ship’s cabin,’ came a blunt reply from
Oosapeth, ‘then I need you all out of here.’ A command designed to demonstrate who was in charge.

  The prison governor at the head of the tunnel of engineers spoke:

  ‘I have reported your arrival; our departure shuttles have been prepared. I am not altogether sure why you want to take control of such a dangerous craft or how you might want to control the prisoners, but I now officially allow you to take command of this vessel,’ said the governor.

  Oosapeth was set. Would Dane Vhastek accomplish a similar triumph on Zarduzian? For the time being, at least, and for the first time, Oosapeth felt a little uneasy about his side of the bargain.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE DELIVERY

  The dorkers hovered silently in the main square, drawing attention from the crowd gathering. Omalius and Elizan escorted Dane, Patrick, Demitri and his warriors – demonstrating an allegiance to the cause – towards the stationary Undarthian craft and dorkers in the square, ready for the expedition to commence. This was a delicate unprecedented allegiance.

  Dane stood tall next to the dorker, ready for action – just another mission. Elizan could see immediately the attraction of such a specimen of being constantly surrounded by hollow diplomats with not an ounce of fight in them, all elevated Dane to heroic by comparison. A glance up at the great wall and all it stood for had Dane rooting for the underdogs, the squalors. They had not chosen a futile existence, one that resorted to a fight for survival, where cannibalism and the horrors of life on the other side of the wall surrounding Larquiston, had become the norm. A far cry from the exquisite life of the elite in the city – the very elite Dane stood alongside as he prepared for his mission.

  Elizan spoke admirably of this warrior who stood before her, managing enough restraint not to show too much adoration:

  ‘If you are successful and you achieve an alliance with the squalors, I expect you would return to celebrate with us?’ asked Elizan, more in hope than in command.

  The translation helmet wasn’t needed for his response. In an action that was testosterone-fuelled, Dane merely nodded; he had a mission to accomplish and the adrenalin was running through his veins. Elizan lowered her head in acknowledgement as an emperor might to a gladiator in the arena; her admiring gaze lingered just long enough for Dane to pick up the signal. He wasn’t remotely interested but Elizan would get her chance to show her admiration should he triumph.