Earth vs Alien

by Ronald D Thompson

  ‘Yeah, I know, but we’ve saved yours too. Look, the co-ordinated rebel movement is safe, solid. We’ve all got the same goal; rid this planet of the Drayzaks and the Olympianas. This time capsule thing is just complicating matters.’

  ‘What, your time capsule or your fellow humans?’ asked Xaan.

  ‘You know we’re not ready yet. Our engineers are working around the clock but we’re just not ready,’ said Zak. ‘Now there’s an added complication − Robert Stave.’

  ‘He’s your problem! We had a deal; you take care of Qudor Volkan and alter the timeline. We join up with your rebels worldwide and take care of my fellow Zaagan hierarchy, as well as your own human tyrants. We’ve got the squalors on our side too, it’s just been negotiated.’

  ‘What about the Trollozytes?’ asked Zak.

  ‘Two-timing aliens. No time for them. History dictates that they can’t be trusted.’

  ‘Look, our time capsule isn’t the most technologically advanced. The timelines are already fucked. In their stupidity, my fellow humans have sent two back already and there are rumours of a third. The Council of the Light are already involved. It’s dangerous at the moment but whilst they are all preoccupied it might be best to strike now. Your rebels ready?’

  ‘We need the Undarthians,’ said Xaan.

  ‘You said you had a connection.’

  ‘It’s not that easy. The 44 zones are pretty evenly mixed. We need the backing of the Undarthian controlled regions if we stand a chance. If we fail with this military coup we won’t get a second chance.’

  ‘You’ve definitely secured the squalors?’

  ‘Pretty much − some final negotiations on territory after the victory,’ replied Xaan.

  The next game was announced. The holographic images merged with live victims displayed on the screens and betting was frantic. A welcome distraction from the tense conversation between Human and Zaagan.

  ‘Fancy the warrior from Elacturn,’ observed Zak.

  ‘He’s a hologram, I reckon. Mine’s on the human − Achilles,’ said Xaan.

  ‘Not if you knew the story,’ laughed Zak.

  The crowd roared as the battle commenced. Holograms intermingled with live warriors. The screens displayed the betting odds, rapidly changing by the second as the bets flew in. Both Zak and Xaan were temporarily distracted by the events, both realising that a break from the tense discussions was much needed.

  The arena housed an underground betting fraternity comprising of humans and other alien races, even rebels of the Olympiana race. Whilst security in the policed areas were difficult to navigate, alien outsiders − not originating from New Manhattan − found ways to infiltrate these vastly popular events, a key to cementing relationships with other splinter groups from across the 44 regions.

  The betting continued, for the moment at least both Zak and Xaan immersed themselves in the spectacle of the holographic games.

  A figure stood, an Undarthian, dressed in loose clothing. None of the attire at the games indicated the origin of the individual, a uniform dress code applied. The figure, almost two metres in height, formidable and strong, walked towards the area Zak and Xaan frequented. Most spectators adopted comfortable, recognised sections amongst their own so as not to be a threat to other rival rebel groups. Celestian Droggon, an outsider, ventured from his recognised safe zone.

  ‘Spot the being at three o’clock,’ said Zak.

  Those adopting an alliance with the Undarthians were pointing in Zak’s direction. A discussion broke out amongst his allies who were equally bemused by Celestian wandering beyond the recognised safe areas. The neutral attire did nothing to disguise the origin of the brethren attending the games; the Arena’s organisers oblivious to its ineffectiveness. From time to time the odd scuffle was known to break sometimes resulting in murder, usually informers who might infiltrate these alternative, illegal betting arenas, with a view to gaining information. Sophisticated weapons were smuggled ingeniously, the body cleverly concealed following a hit on an informer before being disposed of on the outside − informers were hated by all. Migrants − the term for a non-indigenous being − were vetted before attending and given an assurance of protection. In reality, known informants were tipped off to the rebels, effectively sentencing them to death. The games could be equally as entertaining and as dangerous on the terraces as in the arena.

  Zak was a key player.

  ‘Celestian Droggon,’ said Xaan as the Undarthian neared.

  ‘Informer?’ asked Zak.

  ‘Not that I’m aware of and he’s wearing his translator. I think he might want to talk.’

  ‘He could be heading for a communal area,’ said Zak.

  ‘He’s taking the long way round if that’s the case. He’s heading over here.’

  Both beings were immediately on their guard. Was this some kind of take out? Had either Zak or Xaan thwarted the plans of a rival rebel faction? Both were armed discreetly. Celestian was indeed heading their way.

  As he neared, the tension increased, his movements causing anxiety amongst a number of attendees as they sensed a scuffle. Celestian reached into his breast pocket, a white cloth visible, suitably dropped on the floor − a recognised symbol amongst rebels to indicate an unarmed ally; this was not a take out manoeuvre.

  Those not anxious simply returned their attention to the games but Zak and Xaan were still anxious.

  ‘A decoy for a take out?’ asked Zak.

  ‘All seems clear. Either he’s on a suicide mission or he wants to talk,’ replied Xaan.

  The huge figure inched towards Zak and Xaan.

  A roar from the crowd, a temporary distraction − Achilles was a hologram. Zak turned to Xaan offering a triumphant smile; his warrior from Elacturn was still in the game. Zak’s head turned as the foreboding figure neared; trust in other alien beings not quite at 100% for he had seen trickery, aliens not conforming to protocol. However, there was no indication of foul play in this instance.

  Both Zak and Xaan had key positions near the exit aisle. The Undarthian stood at the aisle, his long hair and beads a giveaway to his origin.

  ‘Celestian,’ said Xaan, acknowledging the warrior in front of him.

  ‘Xaan,’ came the reply. ‘I mean you no harm.’

  ‘Please sit,’ offered Xaan. The Undarthian somewhat clumsily inched past both Zak and Xaan. ‘Let me introduce Zak Lancelot, human, a rebel.’

  ‘Zak,’ greeted the Undarthian. A clasp of forearms sealed the civility of the visit.

  ‘I’ll be brief; we have an uprising in a number of zones, planned simultaneously. There may be a deal in the offering,’ said Celestian. Another roar from the baying crowd, the warrior from Elacturn was toast, also a hologram. Xaan returned the smile afforded to him moments earlier. Zak acknowledged the loss with a nod of the head.

  ‘This might be too dangerous to discuss here, informers everywhere,’ said Zak, handing the Undarthian a geo-microchip discreetly. He spoke quickly. ‘My headquarters, immediately after the games, no more than three, unarmed. One of my operatives will be waiting to greet you, he will see you safely underground and we can talk there. Sit with us for a few minutes, hand me some cash. The informers amongst us will consider this a wager pay-out.’

  ‘Already ahead of you, see you at yours,’ said Celestian. A few moments later when another victim fell in the arena, the Undarthian stood and, with another forearm grasp, completed the illusion of a wager and the huge figure headed back to his safe zone.

  ‘It’s been a busy night,’ said Zak. ‘You aware of an Undarthian attack?’

  ‘Had heard rumours of a discontent, not an attack though. Where do we come in?’ asked Xaan.

  ‘A coalition, perhaps. You said earlier that we would need help. Perhaps the Undarthians have reached the same conclusion?’ suggested Zak.

  ‘Or perhaps we are getting in the way?’ replied Xaan.

  ‘We’ll find out shortly.’

  The games continued − a loss of appetit
e as far as the humans and Zaagans were concerned reduced their interest to merely sitting out the last few bouts. Token betting saw out the final bets of the evening, the damage already having been done, as both Zak and Xaan had seen heavy losses. Their minds, however, were now firmly on the meeting, a momentous precedent. No Undarthian had ever set foot on the rebels’ hallowed territory. Zak began to wonder the merit of his invite. They would need to be on their guard, however, Zak felt comfortable with Celestian; his revelations would be of immense interest.

  This could be a good night for the human rebel insurgence. The games concluded, the crowd vacated and Zak and Xaan headed towards Zak’s base, both apprehensive yet intrigued.

  ******************************

  A rebel stood above Zak’s headquarters on the roadside awaiting the arrival of the Undarthian − he would be easily spotted as his size was a giveaway. The rebel would need to monitor the activity of the drones, continually parading the no-go areas. The evening was dark and a light covering of rain created a sombre ambiance; a reflection in the wet indicated a larger, more prominent being, joined by two others; the rebel moved out of the shadows looking around, head turning rapidly in all directions, constantly on the lookout for drones. The three figures, one of which towered his comrades, moved closer towards the rebel. He, too, was frantically observing the surroundings for any suspicious movement. The rebel activated the manhole covering, virtue of a zapper; the entrance to the rebel caves became exposed.

  The Undarthian at the centre of the small posse took one look behind him as they neared the rebel − not a word was spoken. With the manhole cover lifted, the rebel disappeared immediately and the Undarthians followed along the dimly lit passageways now that the manhole cover was safely back in its place. In less than 90 seconds the Undarthian was locking his forearm with Zak; a mutual respect was now developing between the two with each encounter. Celestian, complete with headset translator, was ready − talks would begin.

  Celestian perused the caves. For a less advanced race their technological hardware was impressive. Operatives were everywhere, almost oblivious of the giant entering the rebel’s headquarters, busying about soldering elaborate and complicated pieces of machinery, some human, some alien. Screens surrounded the base; a wave of news bulletins provided much needed information around the globe and the new Earth, now split into 44 regions. News was pirated from those zones not controlled by humans, which unfortunately accounted for the vast majority of the information.

  ‘What’s the news?’ asked Zak, opening the conversation and getting straight to the heart of the matter − the opening question designed not to waste valuable time on idle small talk and chatter. Xaan looked on with more caution. Zak signalled with an acceptable nod of the head and a slight wink of the eye that all was cool. Xaan’s immediate thought was how most of the alien species had eerily similar traits to those of the humans, especially where body language was concerned. Strange that, although many light years separated the aliens from this species on Earth, a pattern of similarities underlined a strange connection.

  ‘We, in association with some Zaagan guerrilla rebels, squalors and Trollozyte captives, propose a takeover. We need you, Zak,’ said Celestian.

  Zak looked up at his counterpart; his eyes slightly squinted whilst he evaluated the suggestion. He needed more information.

  ‘Sounds like you have pretty much got things sewn up,’ said Zak.

  ‘We need the humans on board. You have some key, strategically placed strongholds on this planet. We are missing an arbitrator,’ replied Celestian.

  ‘Understand, but the truth is, we, the humans, have been fighting these wars for almost 200 Earth years. We’re pretty pissed off! Aliens have taken over our planet and are fighting amongst themselves for control. Why should they trust you?’ asked Zak.

  ‘That’s precisely why we need you, Zak. Your influence is pivotal to a deal.’

  ‘A deal?’ asked Zak.

  ‘The Volkans rule over New Manhattan, the most influential capital in all of the 44 regions. They’re holding on by a thread. Tyrannical rule − sectioned off areas to imprison the human population − do I need to elaborate? It’s two cities, two species, each trying to control their own zones, then you in the middle. You fight off the threat of the Drayzak population, yet despite the assurances to the Council of the Light that their sanctions are being upheld, the Olympianas are secretly breeding these freak monsters. You already have the trust of the most influential in the capital and that’s going to be critical,’ explained Celestian.

  ‘He certainly understands the logistics and the territorial issues at play’, thought Zak. ‘Look, we are trying to rid our planet of aliens. This, when all is said and done, is our planet,’ said Zak, without being totally convincing.

  ‘That might be the considered scenario but in reality the precedent has been set, Earth will never be the same again, even if humans were to reach their goal to recover control of their planet. I only have to look around these headquarters and I can physically see that humans have adopted a far superior technology. There’s no going back.’

  ‘So, what’s the deal?’ asked Zak, who had heard enough. In reality, he already knew that there was no turning back. Human existence on our planet also encompassed the alien beings whether he liked it or not.

  ‘Look, I’m Undarthian. Our belief is that we have the footprint, we endorse your species as the rightful occupants but we have lost our way. The battle is relentless with no conceivable endgame; we have become weak, lost focus of our intentions. The solution is to drive out the Olympianas and cut a deal with the remaining species. Anything would be an improvement on the present arrangement. We need the humans on board.’

  ‘What’s the lead time? How prepared are you to make enough of an impact to drive out the Volkan clan?’ asked Zak.

  ‘We’re ready. This has been meticulously planned over many years, usually at Hologram Arenas, scattered throughout the 44 zones.’

  ‘You have agreements in place with the Council of the Light, we are aware of that. To break those agreements means sanctions. Heavy sanctions on your home planet. You are already in violation of that agreement. This is a dangerous move for you.’

  ‘This is as much our home planet as is yours, Zak, you must know that. Generations of Undarthians know nothing other than planet Earth. We are fighting for the same home as you.’

  Zak looked the Undarthian in the eye, sizing up the giant standing less than a metre away. There was no doubt in Zak’s mind that Celestian was genuine.

  ‘We have some serious planning to take care of. You want a beer?’

  ‘Classic beer?’ asked Celestian.

  ‘Only home-made but 35% proof,’ said Zak.

  The giant laughed with head tilted back and another clasp of the forearms. A deal would be struck.

  CHAPTER 27

  TORTURE CYLINDER

  Senator Adams wished he hadn’t screamed. The cylinder – deathly, claustrophobic, held him captive with no escape – naked. The figure opposite, female, looked on in horror, desperate for Lace Adams to remain quiet for she − an alien, had seen the result of the temptation to question the enforcement of captivation. The result would be a fate worse than confinement.

  The time capsule, now a distant memory, was unobtainable. Senator Lace Adams questioned his own stupidity – ‘Why had I tried to be so clever?’ he thought. ‘Why didn’t I wait to see if Klade or Robert Stave would return?’ These were questions that constantly haunted his mind as he tried to get to grips with his predicament. Here on this Earth, 3.3 million years in the past, he had no power or control. Suddenly the problems in 2218 seemed trivial.

  The torture cylinders − an obvious phrase when faced with a multitude of cylinders designed to resign the victim to the horror of confinement or the torture of being burned alive trying to escape − surrounded Lace. So many creatures, a hundred at least, so many torture cylinders with naked creatures all around, equally as distressed th
at Lace had drawn attention to himself − almost as if his cries had endangered them all. The time capsule, probably either destroyed or captured by these alien Earth occupants, was of little use to Lace now.

  With a bright light overhead, Lace looked up, both hands overlapping to cover his eyes from the overwhelming brightness. He heard a boom, a noise not dissimilar to the supersonic boom of an aircraft going through the sound barrier. Suddenly the air in the cylinder swirled, a whirlwind within a cylinder. Lace was swept up in its force, too strong to resist, his naked body lifting gradually up with the sheer power, out beyond the open ceiling of the cylinder top and lowered to within a few feet of the ground. Another boom and Lace fell to the ground unceremoniously.

  The creatures in each of the cylinders froze − not a sound or a scream, just silent, watching. Above Lace by about six metres, a drone-like contraption with its belly opened, began to lower. ‘The eerie silence of my fellow captors could not be good news’, thought Lace. Whatever was lowering towards him must be a punishment. His fellow captors, by virtue of their silence, must know what happens next.

  Suddenly there was a scream, a recognisable scream, beholding of a human or similar creature. Boom! The female opposite Lace swirled. ‘Why has she screamed? She must know what happens’, thought Lace. Another boom, a thud and the female was within metres of Lace. She ran towards him, the zap from the drone-like craft identical to Lace’s drone, stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘What do you want of us?’ shouted Lace in an attempt to distract in a ‘do what you want with me but leave her alone’ manner.

  In the distance a larger craft drew near, the water cubes and torture cylinders made for a surreal sight. The sun beat down hot, immensely bright. Lace looked around, he could not recognise the terrain, he could not spot the group of trees he had used to camouflage the time machine, for he had no manner of escaping this strange world, ironically his own planet, unfathomably unrecognisable.