‘We also use that portal,’ replied Qudos, somewhat bemused as to where this conversation might be going. The Drayzaks were at the ready the minute Qudos felt threatened.
‘If we were to reduce the portal in size, Colony 7 will not be a threat.’
Qudor’s eyes closed as he processed this information. He considered the proposition but clearly it was not sitting well with him.
‘Tell me, Robert, why did you come back to 2018?’
Taken aback, Robert replied, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am just trying to ascertain your motive. I mean, why help me? Why not Dane Vhastek?’
‘I know the future,’ replied Robert, stalling for time. It was a posing question and Robert needed to think carefully. ‘The future doesn’t turn out too well. The multi-alien co-existence in 2218 is intolerable. Vhastek’s offspring are those who make our world unbearable following your demise.’ Again, another outright lie but Robert was now thinking on his feet. His very existence depended on it.
‘What makes you think that the world would be tolerable if I win this alien war?’
Robert had no answer so Qudor continued:
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to rid your planet of all alien species? That’s the plan, isn’t it, Robert? We do not know the future so how can we be assured that you are telling the truth?’
‘You have to believe me. I am the only one who knows how you die, when you die. If you truly want to change that event then I suggest you listen.’
The Z1845X would detonate in one hour but the events weren’t going to plan.
‘Where is the time machine?’
‘Area 51,’ replied Robert.
‘Then we travel in this craft to Area 51 and recover your time machine.’
This was not going well. Robert immediately knew that Qudor could verify the future, in 2218, if he travelled forward in time. The game would be up; Qudor would see that he didn’t perish. Moreover, the portal amplifier would explode in midair. A fatal blow to Robert’s plan.
‘You will take three of my best warriors, two of my trusted pets, recover the time machine and return.’
Robert began to wonder if this was all fate; that he could not change the events of the past other than merely rearranging the circumstances to deliver the same outcome in the future. The Z1845X was ticking; Robert had no option other than to agree. His own death was not an issue, merely the proviso that his mission succeeded.
‘That is fine if you want to carry on wasting more time. Each moment poses a threat. Each missed opportunity an even greater threat. At the moment the only eyes who can see your future are those you see looking back at you right now.’
Qudor thought for a moment.
‘You might have a point. So, this is what we do. You will turn off this craft but remain in it, tied and bound. We will discuss your plan and return in one hour, Earth time. I will leave a pet, also tied and bound, let’s say, for company.’
Robert nodded but the fear on his face was evident. Unless he could find a way out of the craft he would be blown to kingdom come before Qudor returned. Suddenly he no longer wished to die. He questioned whether Qudor suspected that he had planted an explosive, hence the need to evacuate. Then again, that would be the end of the portal amplifier. Thoughts raced around his mind like cars on a Formula 1 racetrack.
Time travel and the changing of timelines were suddenly in question.
Perhaps he was powerless to change the future whatever action he took. His immediate future, however, was in doubt.
CHAPTER 31
HUMAN ALLIANCE
In 2218 the world was very different. In New Manhattan, occupied by the Olympianas, the humans were sparse, numbers diminishing each year as the aliens gained control. Strict curfews guaranteed territorial control and the dreaded Drayzaks ate humans for fun, should they stray outside the designated areas. Most humans were giving up the fight, accepting the incarceration within the city; life was almost worthless.
For those in power life was easier, the aliens afforded them luxuries and traded technology for the company of their women whom the aliens found fascinating. Those in government, as frivolous as the term now meant, tried hard to hold things together, to dream of a world devoid of these irritating aliens, yet as each day passed the prospect significantly reduced.
The head of the recently reformed government, representing the humans, was a man called Oscar Trebor, who despised the Olympianas but was duty-bound to offer up bounty to the aliens, in the form of young fertile women, ensuring as much of a peaceful alliance with the aliens as was possible. Whilst the technological exchanges were useful the aliens were always one step ahead. Whatever advantages our depleted military could gain from the alien super intelligence, it would never be a match for their vast superiority. The aliens, namely the Olympianas, were merely biding their time for the outcome of the decision of the Council of the Light and Oscar was in no doubt that if the decision did not go the aliens’ way, all hell would let loose.
It was a pleasant surprise when word got to Oscar that a certain Zak Lancelot had called an emergency meeting. The chain of communication being such that it took at least six individuals to pass on the message that was very clear − ‘Meet at my digs’. It was the same each time the rebels made contact with the hierarchy, secrecy was key to keeping the alliance alive, an alliance that the aliens suspected but never proved. In essence they cared not, humans were no threat, only the other alien intelligence that, between them, controlled most of the current 44 regions of Earth sculptured during the 200-year Great Wars.
Oscar knew the routine: Await a suitable opportunity after dark and parade towards the manhole leading to Zak’s hideout, knowing full well that the aliens would not pursue him beyond the restricted zone. Of course, the surveillance was such that the aliens could watch his every move. The normal tactics were to create a distraction, thus deviating the cameras and drone surveillance long enough to slip down the manhole. He had timed himself before and had perfected the manoeuvre to less than 5 seconds. This area was a human zone. The trick was simply to erect an area around the manhole to give much needed cover, a roadwork site, for example. The deviation, via a scuffle away from the site area, would allow Oscar to disappear beneath the road surface. This was all rather tedious but, to date, no alien had confronted Oscar regarding his potential alliance with the rebels. Tonight, thankfully, the plan had worked perfectly.
Descending towards the basement area was always a thrill for Oscar. This was an area out of bounds, a place where Oscar could be human and a place where there was hope.
Zak greeted Oscar like a long lost friend. They didn’t always see eye to eye but the respect for each other was evident.
‘Zak,’ greeted Oscar.
‘Oscar, you old devil, thanks for coming along.’
‘All rather hurried,’ admitted Oscar. ‘Must be important?’
‘Yeah, it is rather. We are going to rid the world of these bastard aliens, the bad aliens at least!’
‘Now you are talking,’ said Oscar, ‘but we have been here before. What’s the plan?’
‘An alliance with some very pissed off aliens.’
‘Sounds interesting. So, where do we come in?’
‘Get the message out on the tom-toms. It involves most of the 44 zones. We need to get a message out to the governing bodies in the zones where humans have a presence. My alien contacts will do the same. We are tying up with the Undarthians as they’re on our side.’
‘What about the Council of the Light?’
‘Fuck the Council of the Light. They’re dragging their feet. They’re more interested in the improper use of the damn time machines than helping us to take back our planet. They will most probably rule against us and award the Olympianas control in any case,’ explained Zak.
‘Might be, but we have no answer to the Council of the Light, Zak. They can shut us down as much as look at us.’
‘Maybe so, but with two races taking a stance we m
ight have more clout as far as our claim is concerned. It’s not yet proven that the Olympianas are our ancestors, they are a race that were wiped out 3.3 million years ago. As far as I see it the Undarthians propagated our planet and are our direct ancestors. The fact that we are teaming up proves allied commitment. Let’s worry about the Council of the Light once we have taken back control of our planet. Our planet, Oscar. You in?’
‘You need to ask?’ replied Oscar.
A clasp of forearms proved the allegiance.
‘Think I need a beer,’ requested Oscar.
‘You got it, we need a few. We have a lot of planning to do.’
*************************************
The plan in essence was simple. Use the hologram arenas to communicate. The emergence of these arenas around 2170, as a natural rebellion against alien dominance, forged hope. Both humans and aliens rebelled and slowly but surely, leading up to the emergence of the time machines in 2218, cemented common ground. Rebels existed both in the human contingency and that of their counterparts – the aliens. To make matters more complicated, due to the fact the aliens’ form was that of human, sexual interaction between humans and aliens had existed for some time. Both humans and aliens tried to ignore the interracial tension, but it was profound. Rebels on both sides found an urge to unite, a driving force emerged for an alliance to try to overthrow those who wished to take control of Earth for the sole purpose of dominance.
In all the 44 regions, hologram arenas existed in some fashion, some more sophisticated than others, some concealed cleverly, some blatantly displaying a disdain for alien authority – even from their own kind. The aliens had technology that the humans could tap into, methods to scramble the alien intent, to thwart inter alien communication. In effect, the hologram arenas were wired with technology beyond human comprehension, with one difference – intent to form a coalition, a rebel consortium, to finish the alien domination and start a multi race intent on the same cultural desires.
The orchestrator – Zak Lancelot. The ally on the inside? Oscar Trebor.
Celestial Droggon, the Undarthian leading the alien rebellion, stood awaiting the arrival of Zak Lancelot. A brief intermission in the proceedings meant a scrabble for refreshments and the Celestial stood tall. He checked the time – Zak should be arriving soon. A menacing figure, almost a replica of the great Dane Vhastek, was losing patience − the beads in his long hair testimony to his ability to fight. The true warrior looked around impatiently.
Zak appeared through the crowd at the rear of the Hologram Arena in New Manhattan, moving swiftly with five of his henchmen. You couldn’t be too careful in the arena. He quickly glanced across and caught a glimpse of his new compatriot, Celestial Droggon.
The arena was in full flow. The cube in the centre displayed the next event merely minutes away. Zak, in full black rebel regalia, made his way down the steps towards Celestial. A few humans and aliens glanced over in Zak’s direction and the mere entourage drew attention.
A clasp of forearms and Zak sat down to discuss business whilst his henchmen stood, hands locked over the crotch, signifying that nobody should approach and ask awkward questions.
‘Well?’ asked Celestial.
‘The final piece is in place. We have the human hierarchy on our side.’
‘The plan?’
‘To move quickly. We organise the troops via the arena network, I advise my people and they are ready to put the weight of their technology and fire power behind our plan.’
‘Okay, I will do the same. We adopt several strongholds in the 44 regions; we can use the squalors too. We need a co-ordinated attack, but we are not going to get a second chance. The enemy, the Olympianas, Zaagans and Trollozytes, need disabling at the first attempt. Otherwise, the battle might be too intense.’
‘Agree,’ replied Zak.
‘What about the mutants?’ − A phrase used to describe the interracial beings.
‘They are in limbo anyway, least of our worries. Shouldn’t be too difficult to convince though.’
‘We need a gathering, a war plan,’ said Zak.
‘We will meet on Friday, that’s 1st April 2218, your place.’
‘Done. I’ll gather our people; you gather all key personnel from your alien races. Let’s put this plan together and end this nightmare,’ instructed Zak.
The clasp of forearms again finished the meeting as abruptly as it had started. Zak and his henchmen disappeared out the back of the arena, the games had restarted and those participating were too preoccupied to notice. Celestial left a few minutes later, but the plan had been hatched.
The war would begin.
CHAPTER 32
DANE’S DILEMMA
Annaluce was all that Dane cared about and Oosapeth was worried. Elizan was now an unwanted distraction, but Dane’s obsession with her sister could scupper the war plan. The ice cave was overcrowded, everyone was in disarray and someone needed to take control of proceedings.
The humans in the ice caves were irrelevant and yet it was Scott who decided to intervene.
‘We have a battle to fight. The Drayzaks are running riot − I have seen it first hand, our governments are powerless to prevent the cruelty being inflicted by these monsters. In response, we seemingly have a ground position by securing the services of the Zaagan squalors and inmates from Xenon and we are squabbling over an alien,’ he said, looking directly at Dane Vhastek.
Dane chose not to engage in eye contact, it was obvious by his expression that he would not be swayed − his intent was to find Annaluce. Oosapeth wanted to interrupt but the human was making sense, so he refrained.
‘Scott’s right,’ said James, drawing disapproving looks from Serenix. ‘The way I see it we need to act and quick. Distractions and changes of plan to save Annaluce is playing right into Qudor’s hands that only demonstrates weakness.’
Dane stormed out of the war room, down the carefully chiselled corridor towards the portal chamber − alone. He did not need his warriors, this mission was personal and he was the only one who had an incentive. Dane entered his craft, fired up the colossal engines and within seconds was disappearing through the holographic ceiling on his way to save Annaluce.
The caves rumbled and all in the war room knew that Dane had left. Nobody spoke. The room, now a congregation of different species, all trying to form a common alliance to save Earth, gazed at each other forlornly, unable to fathom the actions of their key member. Oosapeth, effectively the joint in command, needed to establish a plan B − at least momentarily.
Dane had left Anchorax in a precarious position − in respect of how he addressed his race, the squalors, how he orchestrated the plan, a plan which was now devoid of the orchestrator − Dane Vhastek. Elizan felt betrayed and angry. Her plan for joint control of Earth to house the elite Zaggans was now in tatters. Oosapeth had Colony 7 to deal with; the human contingent was also at a loss.
Time for action.
‘Anchorax,’ said Oosapeth, ‘you come with me. We are needed on Colony 7. I have a plan.’
Anchorax nodded, his translator headset transmitted the message, although the tone and assertiveness of Oosapeth’s message was clearly noted. His actions portrayed that of a frustrated Trollozyte.
‘Serenix, you stay here in case Dane has a change of heart and returns imminently. Scott, you take charge of the war machine until I return. Keep an eye on Qudor’s movements and try to locate Dane.’
Scott nodded. James looked dejected, as Scott had been deemed the superior warrior.
‘I should like to return to Zarduzian,’ announced Elizan, also dejected. Oosapeth immediately signalled to one of his operatives that her wish should be honoured. He had no need for a love interest of Dane’s who might blight their plans; she would be in the way so her demand was one of the more positive, welcomed suggestions.
Oosapeth pulled Marazeth to one side out of the way of the mayhem in the caves, whilst operatives put into practice Oosapeth’s orders.
‘Look, the game is changing. Dane is emotionally ruined, not a good state of mind to carry out the task ahead, assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the bargain. I’ve saved his life once; I will not do it a second time. I only agreed to act as partner in this alliance because he saved my daughter from the killing chambers. I’ve saved his life. Now we are even. I am taking the squalor leader to Colony 7. The prisoners are best suited to tie up with the army of squalors, to try to ease the growing Drayzak population. When we reach Colony 7, I will leave you in charge there as I am returning to Xenon. The rules have changed.’
Marazeth looked over his shoulder secretly, just to ensure the others hadn’t intercepted the discussion. He nodded; the instructions were loud and clear.
Operatives meandered around the ice cave like ants, all on the same path, all carrying out orders with precision. Some were headed to the portal area preparing craft for both Elizan and Oosapeth, while others were assisting Scott, James and the other humans in accessing the war hologram, sorting access rights to this complex super programme. Dane was suddenly almost an afterthought.
******************************
Dane rose high into the atmosphere, the ice cave an irrelevance. He could not understand his actions. He asked himself, ‘Why am I acting so irrationally?’ The answer was easy; he had found his soul mate in Annaluce. She was carrying his baby. The finest warriors are those who are not weak, those who do not succumb to emotion; Dane had committed the cardinal sin.
This was irrational. He was walking out on his comrades, taking the bait that Qudor had thrown at him, pursuing Annaluce when he had no clue where Qudor was hiding her, yet he was powerless to overcome his anger, his despair.
Dane decided to contact Oosapeth’s base.
The message came through on the war hologram. In essence, Scott already had a handle on Dane’s position, as well as the three unknown craft heading in his direction, about 10,000 feet higher, ready to swoop.
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