The message read:
‘Any sign of enemy craft at your end?’
‘Sending data. Three craft unidentified and approaching,’ was the reply.
‘Got it. Qudor, I expect.’
‘Would appear so,’ replied Scott. As he typed the message, the war machine translated, sending it immediately back to Dane’s craft.
‘He’s going to need help,’ said James. As he spoke, several Undarthians were already heading towards the bay, firing up the war craft. Irrespective of the mental state of their leader’s mind, this was a threat, one that needed to be addressed. Oosapeth had left as had Elizan and Anchorax had joined Oosapeth with Marazeth. The humans and the Undarthians were now completely engrossed in the danger Dane Vhastek faced. A level head was needed to ensure that Dane Vhastek was not a casualty, worse still, the possibility of the first major loss in the battle for Earth, one that would give Qudor Volkan a major psychological advantage.
Scott and James eagerly eyed the war hologram. Three craft headed out of the caves, three Undarthian craft with Undarthian warriors on board of the highest calibre, ready to die for the cause. They rose rapidly towards the path of the unknown craft, ready to intercept.
‘Look to the rear,’ said James. ‘Three more unknown craft.’
‘They must have been expecting a response, so we need three more to attack the rear!’ instructed Scott. ‘He’s in danger and Oosapeth has vacated the caves. Dane should rise and use his superior speed.’
‘What about the first set of three craft?’ asked James.
‘Dane rises above them and they split. The three unknown craft are no match for the Undarthian superiority. The war machine suggests our guys rise, split in different directions, use their speed to lose the six unknown craft and destabilise them with an electromagnetic blast,’ explained Scott.
‘I’ll send the visual through to Dane,’ said James.
‘Heading back to base,’ was the message from Dane. The craft were no match for Dane’s speed except that now the ice cave would become known. His impulsiveness had put the whole operation in jeopardy.
*****************************
Colony 7 was magnificent, a space centre unlike anything humans could build. It was a huge construction, housing thousands of inmates in well-concealed safe cells, electronically separated with force fields. Oosapeth had laid down the terms – fight for your survival on Earth, earn freedom and a new start on a bright new world. Of course, in reality, Oosapeth knew nothing of the practicalities of such an operation, having little or no experience of dealing with such a vast number of citizens. Anchorax, on the other hand, knew exactly how to orchestrate such vast numbers; certainly the Trollozytes couldn’t be any worse to handle than his fellow squalors.
Oosapeth, Marazeth and Anchorax arrived, docking into the station with ease. Having a platform way above Earth certainly had its advantages strategically. Anchorax was in awe. Only days earlier he had been fighting for survival, reduced to cannibalism for his daily meal, living off dead death baiters and wild animals. His alien race, although Zaagan, were Zaagan in name only, a completely different species to the elite of the planet Zarduzian, who lived within the city walls. This opportunity, however, turned the tables. He was well equipped for the job in hand, to rid Earth of the Drayzaks – it would be child’s play.
On board the space centre − neutralised to a gravity force within the craft that would simulate that of Earth − the three unlikely comrades sat in the central hub, fully equipped with technology like nothing Anchorax had witnessed. Complete with headsets they sat around a transparent table that appeared to hover all of its own accord. Talks began:
‘Dane is impulsive, as you can see,’ said Oosapeth. ‘We got involved because Dane saved my daughter from the death chambers on your planet.’
‘Why did Dane save your daughter? How did that happen?’ asked Anchorax.
‘It’s a long story; it’s not important right now. I’ll explain when we have more time, but the game has changed. I can’t support this cause of Dane’s, which has now become a game to find Annaluce. Qudor will play on that weakness and we are losing time.’
‘I can see that, but Dane Vhastek is the reason I am here.’
‘I understand, however, the undertaking to defeat Qudor Volkan is not going to be easy. He has portal access and I would expect that he could call upon vast resources back home in Olympiana. This will be a long, drawn-out battle. He has superior territorial advantage at ground level and the Drayzaks are multiplying at a frightening rate. What exactly has Dane offered you personally for securing the back-up of squalors on the ground?’
‘Freedom,’ replied Anchorax.
‘Exactly what we are offering the doomed on Colony 7. They have no hope other than an existence of nothing but eating to stay alive, cooked up in an isolated cell from which they cannot escape, surrounded by a force field that would burn them alive should they try to escape,’ said Marazeth.
‘We need an alliance,’ said Oosapeth, ‘one where we join forces. One which rewards you with far more than just your freedom.’
‘What about Dane?’
‘He’s got two females to worry about now and it has put this operation in jeopardy. He is supposed to be caretaker for the species on this planet but has lost the plot. Whoever defeats this Qudor Volkan wins the prize − Earth. The humans are no match for our intelligence and their planet has resources. Resources we can trade.’
‘So, what are you proposing?’ asked Anchorax, now warming to his new-found power. Having lived a squalor’s life, sentiment was not his number one priority.
‘Dane is the problem. His vision is to suffer this war on a whim − allow the humans to continue to enjoy the freedoms and resources their planet offers, for nothing in return. With the Drayzaks wiped out and Qudor Volkan beaten, what exactly do we get in return for our trouble? Very little at the moment. The humans will still be the dominant force. The way I see it, they don’t deserve that luxury. They are of a low intelligence level and seem more concerned about annihilating their own species, the exact reason why the Council of the Light came into being, to prevent species wiping themselves out and to encourage the propagation of other planets. It seems evident that the human species need saving from themselves. That’s where we come in.’
Anchorax was both concerned and excited about this opportunity, in equal measure. On the one hand, Dane had given him hope; on the other an opportunity like this would never repeat itself. His mind ran ahead of itself. He envisioned living like a king for the power was intoxicating.
‘How many bodies do you have on this craft?’ asked Anchorax.
‘In excess of 10,000. I can get more if needed.’
‘I can get access to hundreds of thousands. Transporting that many, however, would be the challenge.’
‘Not with a portal amplifier. This whole Space Centre could be moved back and forth to the outer regions of space around Zarduzian. We have enough spacecraft on board to pick up squalors, confine them and then deliver to Earth. We could have this war game well underway in no time.’
‘How do I know you won’t do the same to me, as Dane?’
‘I’m only interested in the resources. We trade throughout the galaxy and Earth has a lot to offer. I have no interest inhabiting the planet. As long as I am allowed to mine resources, I will help dominate vast regions of Earth for you,’ replied Oosapeth.
‘Dane will surely find out. How do you propose we deal with that dilemma?’
‘We don’t have to deal with that straight away. Dane will not suspect anything. He will think we are carrying out his plan, to gain territorial advantage on the ground. We let him continue to think that is the case.’
‘And when do we let him know the plan has changed?’ asked Anchorax.
‘Just before you kill him.’
This was the only part of the plan, so far, that Anchorax didn’t like, but he didn’t show it. He calculated the options. At this moment it seemed
that he should either agree or, if he didn’t, to watch his own back.
‘Introduce me to the prisoners,’ instructed Anchorax.
*******************************
Elizan and Omalius arrived back in Zarduzian, somewhat dishevelled. With Annaluce still alive and Dane’s very existence seemingly dependent on finding her, Elizan knew she was no longer of interest. Pregnant with Dane’s child, Elizan at least had some leverage to bargain a position whereby a mass migration, albeit restricted, could still be on the cards. She needed distance from the pressure cooker within the ice caves to re-evaluate.
The craft, supplied in the ice caves, arrived as scheduled via portal near the main square in Larquiston. The munika immediately recognised the important passenger − with the form of an impressive circle around the craft, with backs to the craft and steadfastly staring straight ahead, the group resembled a well-organised Roman battalion. Elizan signalled that she wished to be escorted to her quarters, Omalius following, only a few steps behind.
Inside the great hall Elizan said little. Omalius, recognising her fragility with evidence of a few tears, confirmed his suspicions – she was heartbroken. Omalius signalled to the munika escorting them that they should leave. Elizan headed to her private quarters.
‘I will call for you when I need you,’ said Elizan.
‘Understood,’ replied Omalius. ‘Would you like any food or refreshments, perhaps?’
‘Drink,’ was the stern reply.
‘Understood,’ said Omalius and with a sharp clap of his hands, servants appeared in the hallway of the great hall. Her request was arranged. Omalius knew precisely the concoction of drink required.
Elizan lay on her bed, the sheets of a silk nature, white and gold − a grotesque reflection of the stubborn regard for opulence within the city. Elizan never showed emotion, not openly in public, but in the privacy of her own room she wept. Everything had been so perfect, she had found her suitor in Dane Vhastek, her elder sister had perished at the hands of the evil Qudor Volkan, she was pregnant and on the verge of a deal to secure a safe migration to a new world, Earth. The news that her sister was alive changed everything.
Elizan decided to shower and clean as if to rid herself of the events of the past few weeks. She stepped out of her discarded garments. Totally naked she headed towards the shower. A verbal command and voice recognition assured that the shower area erupted with water, flowing from every angle in a cascade of controlled bursts. She caught a glimpse of her body in the array of mirrors surrounding the room. Her multiple reflections ensured that no area of her finely sculptured figure was overlooked. She paused and thought for a moment. Within a very short period of time her almost perfect figure would change, the new life inside her would make sure of that. Again, the tears flowed. Heartbroken and pregnant was not a good combination.
Elizan emerged from the shower area refreshed. She had been in there for the equivalent of two Earth hours contemplating, deliberating, toying with the events which had led to the bombshell that her sister Annaluce was still alive. The world of Zarduzian was predictable. The squalors remained behind the city walls, incarcerated, whilst the privileged Zaagans enjoyed the fruits of the land, an existence of freedoms beyond the comprehension of the oppressed and yet they were imprisoned themselves. Elizan thought through the situation. She had enough of her father’s traits − Daxzus – to revaluate, to change the rules. She walked across the room. The abundance of grandeur was a testimony to her high privilege; she remained naked – Zaagans were not shy of their bodies. She called for Omalius. The high technology inbuilt into the fabric of the Zaagans’ infrastructure allowed communication to anyone instantly within the great walls of Larquiston − the complex and sophisticated thought communication system, being like nothing ever witnessed on Earth. Within the time it took Elizan to dress, Omalius was outside the door awaiting her command to enter.
The door opened upon her command and Omalius entered, dressed in his usual gold robes.
‘Omalius,’ said Elizan, ‘we have work to do.’
‘It’s good to have you back,’ replied Omalius with a hint of a smirk.
‘The mighty Dane Vhastek has crossed the wrong sibling. He can chase my sister, probably lose his life in the bargain, but he will not use me as a pawn.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘We block his supply of squalors.’
‘Interesting,’ said Omalius.
‘Anchorax is a squalor. If he returns to Larquiston hoping to transport an army of fellow squalors to aid Dane Vhastek, then he is mistaken. As of this moment he is the enemy. Inform the munika to arrest him the minute he arrives through the portal,’ said Elizan.
‘A wise move, Elizan, but you must protect the citizens of Larquiston against a squalor rebellion. Anchorax is their hero, their passport to a better life on Earth. May I suggest an alternative?’ asked Omalius.
Elizan gave a quizzical look. Omalius was her most trusted advisor. ‘Alternative?’
‘Well, if you arrest Anchorax, the way I see things, we run the risk of not only antagonising the squalors but the others in the coalition to fight the evil Qudor Volkan.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Why don’t we secure new terms with Anchorax? He has witnessed the volatility of his comrade, Dane. At this moment he will surely be wondering just how secure he is and he will be vulnerable. In my opinion, he might be susceptible to the suggestion of an alternative plan.’
‘I’m liking this new idea, Omalius. Tell me more.’
‘I noticed how relaxed Anchorax was when we entertained Dane and the humans, before the return to Earth. Indeed, I do believe he had his eye on a few of the eligible single females. I think one in particular took a liking to Anchorax.’
‘Omalius, I like your thinking. This is more my domain than a war. So, what you are suggesting, if I understand this correctly, is that we entice Anchorax over to our side. Let us say, for example, we offer him this particular female as bait, let him settle in comfortably and propose a new alliance.’
‘Alliance is a good definition. We need to award him the freedom of Larquiston. He is a Zaagan when all is said and done, he could have the best of two worlds.’
‘That could be part one of the plan, Omalius, but I have a twist, a part two,’ added Elizan.
‘Being?’ asked Omalius.
‘Being that we ally with one of our conquered worlds. My father was prolific in acquisitions. We need an army, foot soldiers, millions of foot soldiers. We hit Earth when they are least expecting an ambush; that way, the squalors, led by Anchorax, will merge. We may need to sabotage the portal amplifier to move the masses quickly in one trip. Anchorax would be the perfect insider. He is close to Dane and Oosapeth. He needs more than the freedom of Larquiston. Omalius, he needs power on Zarduzian, power of which no Zaagan could refuse.’
‘I will check the portal for incoming. The next craft from Earth must be Anchorax returning for the first cargo of squalors. I will inform the munika to escort him to your quarters,’ said Omalius. ‘I’ll also check our archives for a suitable battle-hardy alien race from the many planets within our arsenal.’
Elizan now wore the hint of a simper for she trusted Omalius would deliver. Earth was still very much on the table.
CHAPTER 33
THE UNCHANGED TIMELINE
Samuel Parker had a hunch. Something at the back of his mind was troubling him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. What was it about the history on the Olympianas that he recollected? It was a subliminal message in the back of his mind – whatever it was, he needed to research the history of these forgotten Earth dwellers before the next inevitable visit from the Council of the Light, who would, no doubt, be seeking answers.
In 2218 the technology was exceptional, data was accessed by verbal command. Samuel knew that the records hacked from the database of the occupying aliens of New Manhattan, was extensive.
On this particular evening, instead of cal
ling for his robot chauffeur-driven vehicle and heading home, Samuel decided to do some research. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was looking for but whatever it was he was driven to find out the truth. Senator Adams had asked Samuel to transport him back in time to the advent of the population explosion 3.3 million Earth years ago, when the founders of the then civilisation first appeared on planet Earth. Senator Lace Adams was hellbent on changing the outcome of the birth of the civilisation who fled Earth, in the wake of an asteroid explosion on Earth, one which would annihilate most of the living creatures on the then planet.
Samuel, in the confusion of this hunch, had only been concerned about sourcing the details of the advent of the birth of the civilisation of the Olympianas. According to historical records, there appeared an almost religious doctrine that the Olympianas held dear. Trawling through the records with Senator Adams before his time travel, back to a time 3.3 million years ago when Earth was devoid of intelligent life, he remembered stumbling across some spurious names, equivalent to the Adam and Eve story celebrated by Christians in 2018. Of course, in 2218 religion was almost wiped out, except for the very few, who frankly, were considered mentally deranged. With the advent of aliens, religion almost disappeared overnight following the incident on 15th February 2018.
The night was young, the sun was setting in the Manhattan sky and Samuel was one of a handful of personnel still left in the Time Capsule Centre. The small room adjoining the concealed area, which carried out the time travel, seemed suitable for this task. Although the room, inevitably instigated flashbacks to the murder of two of his colleagues following the sabotage of the time capsule by Robert Stave, he was becoming accustomed to extraordinary times, so didn’t dwell on the harrowing memories.
Sifting through the archive footage was tiresome. The Volkans’ ancestors when they occupied Earth, was eerily familiar. The first Olympianas emanating from Earth were extremely advanced − hieroglyphics was clearly the predominant means of communication, an accepted standardised method of communication amongst the very highest intelligence in the universe. This in isolation was baffling. What was more confusing was the advent of the English language as the adopted means of verbal communication. Whilst it had been broadly accepted amongst humans in 2218 that the English language was the most likely derived tongue amongst highly intelligent life, it still puzzled Samuel that it was the case with the Adam and Eve of the Olympiana race, here on Earth − the language being adopted at the earliest sprouting of this new civilisation.
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