

Copyright (C) 2018 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

Smashwords Edition
**CONTENTS**

Chapter 1: The Alias

Chapter 2: The Incident

Chapter 3: The Chosen

Chapter 4: We are not Alone

Chapter 5: The Killing Chambers

Chapter 6: Area 51 the Conference

Chapter 7: The Counter Plan

Chapter 8: The Rescue

Chapter 9: Suspicious Minds

Chapter 10: The Missions

Chapter 11: Operation Freedom

Chapter 12: The Sting

Chapter 13: The Close

Chapter 14: Xenox

Chapter 15: Ambushed

Chapter 16: Homeward Bound

Chapter 17: Earth's Response

Chapter 18: A New Threat

Chapter 19: The Evidence

Chapter 20: The Message

Chapter 21: No Show

Chapter 22: Squalor Revenge

Chapter 23: Ice Caves

Chapter 24: World Crash

Chapter 25: The Deal

Chapter 26: Earth - Living Hell

Chapter 27: Resurrection

Chapter 28: The Retreat

Chapter 29: The Exodus

Chapter 30: Planet X1285

Chapter 31: The Hour Cometh

Chapter 32: The Drayzaks

Chapter 33: Shut Down

Chapter 34: The Daxzus Factor

Chapter 35: A Chance Meeting

Chapter 36: Operation Ice

Chapter 37: The Courtship

Chapter 38: Blind Side

Chapter 39: The Payload

Chapter 40: The Dane Attacks

Chapter 41: The Capsule

Chapter 42: Bones
**CHAPTER 1**

**THE ALIAS**

Robert Stave looked at his reflection with a wry smile. The procedure had been arduous, almost six hours; the recovery equally as painful. The bandages had been removed delicately from his face by his personal nurse, Iris. Holding the photograph in his right hand, he scrutinised the resemblance. Even though his face was still a little swollen, dried blood obvious evidence of the gruelling operation, the likeness was remarkable. Iris was bemused that her patient owned such a relic; paper photographs hadn't been in circulation since the late 21st century.

The year 2218; the date 2nd February. Robert was ready.

It hadn't been easy to find a surgeon willing to put his credentials on the line, to risk his ability to practice, to lose his licence, but eight million credits sealed the deal. Robert had connections, a network of vagabonds who could move crypto currency undetected, and now the final piece of the jigsaw, a surgeon too greedy to check the validity of his underworld dealings. The plan was hatched. By 2070, paper currency had dissolved, transactional encrypted currency movement ensured money laundering had been eradicated, or at least that was the theory. The underworld had to be more creative. They were, and Robert knew how.

"The surgeon will be with you in a moment Robert," said Iris.

"Thanks, Iris. Now we can go out on that lunch date you promised me, especially now that I look dashing! What do you say?" asked Robert.

"Mr Stave! You know we are not allowed to fraternise," said Iris in a sympathetic attempt to dissuade Robert without hurting his feelings.

"You're a tease, Iris," replied Robert with a resigning smirk.

"Robert," said Doctor Humphries as he walked in the recovery room, "that will be all, Iris," ushering her away in order to have a private chat with his client. "All looks fine. Now, it will take a few days to settle down."

"Will it heal in time, Doc?" asked Robert.

"There's no worry on that score," said Humphries as he looked around the room to ensure complete privacy. "I assume you have taken care of the balance."

"Already credited, Doc. It's in your designated crypto wallet. Non-traceable," said Robert.

**********************

The year hailed the 200th anniversary of the start of 'The Great Alien Wars', the period which changed the world, sculpted our very existence. Robert's plan was to alter the trajectory of time, even at the risk of his own life; now he had a purpose.

Robert lived in the outer circuit of a district which used to be known as New York. The Great Alien Wars changed the very fabric of society - geographical areas which mankind used to hold dear were changed beyond recognition in the aftermath; cities were re-sculpted, renamed.

The alien elite kept the unruly in tow, at a cost. Human  numbers were reducing significantly.

Humans embraced the huge technological advances, overlooking the cultural differences between the many alien species, which were causing unrest. Robert ached for a return to the old ways, when we were truly independent of these other alien forms, especially monstrous undesirables from distant planets. Even though he hadn't known that era, his grandfather had told him stories of days long gone, great tales passed on by his grandfather, where the world was different, a paradise in comparison.

The alien technologies grew more extravagant, more unreal, but the emergence of the time capsules gave Robert the inspiration to act. He had meticulously planned his operation; this was his destiny.

Most of the advances in technology were sabotaged both by governments and the military - the normal underhanded tactics to ensure civilian subservience - just as it was prior to the Alien Wars, as it had always been. These days, however, the stakes were higher.

Time travel had been available to the military since 2197 but had gone through a barrage of undesirable failures. Portal travel had opened new galactic connections, an intertwining of ideas, new fads. It was inevitable that our species would dabble in unknown advances; this technology was highly sensitive; security was paramount. The problem was that the source of this new time travel technology wasn't particularly reliable, so a series of trial-and-error experiments followed for many years, unsuccessfully.

The 'Council of the Light', the galactic police, decided to monitor the usage of this highly sensitive technology, test the equipment, ensure absolute safety where possible and restrict usage to only those individuals registered with the Council,  limited to a handful. Alternate universes were feared to be a side effect, all sorts of Doomsday predictions were associated with this untested method, no alien species was absolutely sure how the interference, with the past or the future, may change the present. Many theories evolved, multi-universes being one of them, suggesting that these time machines could toll the death knell of our very existence. As usual, though, the military wasn't interested in the risks.

The capsule had been given the once-over by the Council. The report was inconclusive; it was given the status of 'hazardous' and they insisted that a disclaimer must be used in the event of any fool who wished to take their chances. This didn't worry the military either.

It had been tested, then tested again. First on animals, with some measure of success but with no obvious feedback, then on humans. As very few individuals had clearance by the Council and there were serious risks involved, there were few volunteers. Several had been lost in the experiments; the capsule had exploded on many occasions culminating in an agonising death. Being burned alive in an enclosed space was enough to deter the majority, even though the experience would be the most wonderful for the recipient, if successful.

************************

By 21st February, Robert's swelling had gone. The transformation was complete.

The anniversary of the event known as The Incident had led the now-diminished Security Council, representing the human species, to consider obtaining evidence. They needed a willing volunteer, someone prepared to risk his life. Colonel Alfred Patterson fitted the bill. All the necessary checks had been  carried out, he had no spouse, his only son had died tragically in battle whilst trying to emulate his father's achievements; Alfred was their man.

Colonel Patterson was the double of a historic figure in 'The Great Alien Wars' called Hank Richardson; the resemblance uncanny. This was the break Robert needed. Once it had been announced via the news in holovision (superseding television in the 22nd century when holograms became the rage), Robert seized his opportunity: the announcement of the Colonel's time travel, in what was being hailed as the newly advanced and tested time machine, was several months before his scheduled transportation, giving Robert the time he needed.

The time travel principle worked on the theory that no physical matter in the universe has ever been destroyed, just reassembled; molecules merely re-shaped, continually leaving an imprint. As the imprints changed every nanosecond, the illusion of our existence was complete. These imprints are left in the fabric of space, etched in time. To track the imprints and mimic the molecular assembly at a chosen time would recreate the present in a different era. Imagine a child moving a sparkler rapidly in the dark: the movement is captured by the shape of the light emanating from the firework; tracing back the light would re-create where the sparkler had been, thus going back in time. This was the concept. The software to trace and reassemble molecules in the past at a given date, without affecting the present, led to many years of struggle, but eventually a prototype was created, unproven, but a workable prototype nonetheless.

Robert walked into the holding room, the time capsule visible through a transparent screen, to be versed on the procedure by an engineer and, more importantly, to agree to the legal terms which clearly stated that the Security Council held  no responsibility for the accidental death of the said volunteer. To Robert's astonishment, nobody suspected a thing. His eight million credits had been spent wisely. _The Doc was worth his weight_ , he thought.

The capsule was oval shaped, completely transparent, with one seam down the middle separating two halves of the time machine. Each half of the capsule parted, allowing the volunteer to sit in the moulded seat whilst the co-ordinates were remotely set from the small adjoining room. Once comfortable, the capsule would close, securing the occupant. The individual was dressed in what was known as the 'one suit'. Reasonably fireproof - though not enough to cope with the furnace should the capsule erupt - it was sufficient to convince the victim that he or she had some protection at least. The military wasn't interested in the suit's effectiveness.

The plan was to set the destination, time and date to the precise scene of The Incident inside the force field in order to gather evidence, bring a case against the abductors with The Council of the Light and gain compensation for their illegal activity. A lot was at stake; interplanetary trading, which was hugely profitable, a claim on the vast resources of the alien nation who violated the propagation laws and, more importantly, a favourable ruling from the Council to rid Earth of these unsavoury aliens, who were enjoying these benefits illicitly.

The time capsule engineer, Samuel Parker, acknowledged Colonel Alfred Patterson.

"Follow me this way, Colonel Patterson," said Samuel.

Robert Stave followed as commanded.

"Colonel, we need to set the capsule to your voice," said Samuel. "Could you just say your name out loud, please?"

Robert paused. "Colonel Alfred Patterson," said Robert, convincingly.

"Excellent," said Samuel, "it is set. Colonel, the capsule will react to your voice. Any instruction will activate the control centre. When you arrive at your destination and you wish to return, simply instruct the capsule to open. Once comfortably inside, instruct it to close. We have already programmed the co-ordinates to return you to the present. You simply have to say, 'Return home'. Do you understand, Colonel?"

"Yes, perfectly understood," said Robert, who still found it strange that he was being referred to as 'Colonel'.

"I can't decipher the language," said Robert.

"No need, Colonel. This is a universal time machine. As you know, hieroglyphics are the adopted galactic communication, so you only need to be concerned with the date," said Samuel.

"What if I accidently changed the date? I wouldn't return to the present," said Robert, feigning concern. In reality, he was checking the override procedure. He had no intention of returning to the present.

"This button here activates the override," said Samuel, pointing to a red button on the dashboard. "I strongly advise that you don't touch it. If you'd read the manual, Colonel, you would know that you can simply say a date out loud once the override is activated and it will automatically change. Does that alleviate your concerns?"

"Perfectly," said Robert, trying to appear as if he had forgotten. In all honesty, he had never seen the manual. "And the destination - is that voice controlled?"

"The destination is fixed for your own safety. Both arrival and return."

The two halves joined with a clunk. The engineers checked the historic date, back to the date of The Incident in 2018, and the precise location.

The fireproof shutters surrounding the small 3-metre-squared room descended, covering the glass, precautionary in case the unthinkable occurred; even the operating engineers' direct view of the room was obstructed. A visual of the proceedings was viewed via a 3D monitor. The engineers said a small prayer.

Inside the capsule, Robert waited. The technology there was mind blowing: technical data everywhere; transparent screens displayed complex formulae, graphs, hieroglyphs; this was technology way beyond his comprehension. In effect, it was alien technology, adapted. He said a small prayer, too.

The body of Colonel Alfred Patterson turned up three days later, his throat cut, his military garments removed. All his identification documents stolen, his ID and coding to activate his entry into the time capsule also missing. His body badly bloated, floating down the river surrounding the circuit city renamed 'The New Manhattan'.

Of the three engineers in the adjoining room, two had been murdered whilst Robert was receiving instructions. Samuel had been forced, against his will, to change the location for the occupant, Robert Stave.

The destination: Area 51, Nevada; the date 23rd February 2018.
**CHAPTER 2**

**THE INCIDENT**

At 1pm on 15th February 2018, The Incident was first reported. Three individuals captured this mysterious event on their phones and sent in their footage to an Italian news channel. Rai News broadcast the following:

_We interrupt our news coverage to report an extraordinary incident which occurred at around midday and begs the question: is this an elaborate illusion or is this an alien abduction captured on film? We have received two video clips and a selfie, taken on phones from witnesses, which appear to show individuals holding hands in a circle before mysteriously disappearing. This all happened in St Peter 's Square_.

The video footage was shot by Sasha da Silva, a French student visiting Rome on a school excursion. Sasha's clip showed a panoramic view of the square, panning from left to right. She noticed a group of individuals forming a circle and holding hands in front of a backdrop of the Vatican City. Sasha completed her panoramic shot, then quickly returned to the area where the individuals had formed the circle. Suddenly, there was pandemonium as the circle of individuals appeared to evaporate into what resembled a swirling kaleidoscope. Struggling to focus on the subject matter, her phone shook as  she attempted to record the incident. It was clear that something extraordinary had happened.

This footage was to be a record of this important single event in human history.

************************

James Eaton received the email on 8th February 2018 confirming that his application had been accepted. All his travel arrangements were booked, his flights and accommodation paid for, and clearance for his trip arranged on his behalf with his university.

He was going to Rome.

James picked up his phone. Gold and uniquely designed, he had acquired it in Monte Carlo. It wasn't space-grey like the majority of his university friends' phones. James preferred being different; his mates in Edinburgh always ribbed him about this quirky trait.

His father, called Charles, was a senior partner at the firm Eaton, Chadwick & Thompson, a successful law firm in Manchester, England; a profession James despised.

"Dad, it's James," he said in his usual matter-of-fact manner.

"James, good to hear from you, son," replied Charles, who placed his hand over his phone in a futile attempt to muffle his voice. He whispered to his wife, Irene, that their son was on the line. Little did he realise that the caller could hear every word. With Charles it was a case of old habits dying hard after years of using telephones with a dial.

James didn't call too often - no need as he had an elaborate network of friends in Edinburgh who were far more interesting than his father and far less judgemental. Charles figured the call was for one reason, the same reason James always called: to top up his fund allowance. Charles always joked with his partners  at work that when his son called it wasn't a case of 'Hello' but more a case of 'How much?'

Despite the temptation to enquire at the likely cost to his pocket, on this occasion he refrained.

"Everything all right, son?" the typical opening line when James rang.

"Yeah, Dad, everything's cool," whatever that meant - a mystery to Charles and Irene. Did 'cool' mean he was excelling at his work or was his social life on the up? Only James really knew the translation for 'cool' in this instance.

"Look, Dad, something's cropped up and I need to be in Rome next week," said James, hoping that the Spanish Inquisition didn't follow. He hated the lectures, usually involving the proverbial 'When I was your age' comment.

"Rome! What, some kind of exchange programme?" asked Charles, in the hope of some reassurance that his Journalism course was reaping rewards.

"Not exactly, Dad. Well, sort of. I mean, it's difficult to explain. Anyway, I just need some funds for a trip."

Predictable. This was exactly the kind of gobbledygook Charles had come to expect from James. Charles suspected something might be wrong - James must be in trouble - so he altered his tone and changed tack, offensively.

"Don't tell me you've been caught hacking into the university computers."

James's action at school had brought great shame to the family at the time. Altering exam results was a serious offence, despite James showing brilliant promise in the field of computer wizardry, which was clearly overlooked. Charles was never going to let him forget his misdemeanour.

"Dad!" replied James, almost adolescent in fashion. "I was thirteen; why do you keep reminding me of it at every opportunity?  No, this is serious. I've been chosen by a new humanitarian organisation to do some voluntary work. Look, I'll forward the email confirmation I received so you can check it out."

In reality, James had hacked into the university server within days of arriving at his Halls of Residence in Holyrood, Edinburgh. James viewed it as work in progress: surely hacking was a necessary skill for any would-be journalist. In any case, he needed to keep his hand in for his university grades.

"Okay. Sorry, son, but we just worry about you. I'll have a look at the email," said Charles, now with an acute sense of guilt that he had doubted his son's integrity. He always regretted bringing up the past but couldn't help himself. He had suffered at the hands of his own father, always pulling him down at every opportunity, and despite his best efforts not to follow in his father's footsteps, he continually, disappointingly, found himself admonishing his son.

Mum had to say hello. James was her only son and she still looked upon him as her baby; memories she cherished so dearly. She never judged him.

************************

The Hernandez Young Retreat Centre in Midtown East, New York, was renowned for its applications from shelter organisations, churches and volunteers seeking vacancies to temporarily look after people in care. The Young Retreat Centre was the pride and joy of a 22-year-old Hispanic immigrant, who herself had suffered from a broken home. The daughter of a drug-addict mother, gang-land member father, Sophia Hernandez had known destitution. At 26 years old, she had encountered more hard times in her life than most of the retired war veterans in New York.

Sophia was a slip of a girl who showed great courage in the face of extreme adversity, if only the war veterans knew.

Sophia checked her emails daily, most of which were from organisations looking to help impoverished young people. As heartbreaking as it was, Sophia had to reject the majority and focus on the most desperate cases. She may have even rejected her own application when life was desperate; the thought was almost too much to bear.

The dishevelled dry cleaners in Upper East Side made the perfect start-up property for her first Retreat Centre. With living accommodation upstairs, Sophia was on hand to attend to these poor young souls who needed round-the-clock care. In truth, the property was in need of serious renovation. That would have to come later, she thought. One step at a time. In reality, she was a little impatient and found it difficult to quell her ambitions.

Her trusted assistant, Emily, was seeing to the two new arrivals: a brother and sister who had been badly beaten by their drunken father. The boy was seven years old and the girl had just turned five. Dressed in hand-me-downs, in need of a good wash and clearly suffering from a poor diet, this was just another sad case for Emily to deal with. She shouted through:

"Sophia, the new arrivals are here!" stating the obvious, as Sophia could already see them through the open door to her office.

"With you in a minute, Emily. Just finishing off an email," called Sophia, a typical delaying tactic as she knew Emily would deal with paperwork, a process already under way. In any case, it was Sophia's birthday - just the excuse she needed to take things a little easier.

Sophia scrolled through her many emails; most were junk or scams, which she had learnt to recognise instantly. Two drew her attention: the first was from Eleanor Richmond, the five-year-old daughter of Edgar, a stockbroker at the investment firm Stevenson Hayes. Sophia's life completely turned around one day, two years ago, whilst Eleanor was out with the then-nanny and inadvertently ran into a busy road. Sophia instinctively saved her and the rest was history.

The email read:

_Happy Birthday! Love Eleanor_ , with a covering comment from Sophia's now stepfather, Edgar:

_Proud of you. Have a great day. Got a table booked at Pizza Taverna for all of us at 8pm. Don 't be late. Love Dad_.

_Pizza Taverna_ was where Edgar took Sophia once the adoption went through, following her heroic action to save his daughter from a tragic accident and almost certain death. Edgar knew that the restaurant had a special place in her heart. Sophia afforded herself a smile, as she realised how her fortunes had been transformed since the Richmonds had come into her life. She had the Retreat Centre, courtesy of her stepfather's generosity and she was acting out her dream. Sophia had won the lottery.

Sophia ran her hands through her dark hair, paused for a moment as she reflected on the many meals at _Pizza Taverna_ over the years, the lasagne her favoured meal, and she wasn't intending to break tradition tonight; her eyes became moist at the thought of how blessed her life had become.

The second email was the confirmation that the humanitarian organisation had accepted her application. Like James Eaton, all expenses were met and accommodation organised.

The evening with Edgar now took on new meaning. How Edgar would react to the news that his precious stepdaughter would be flying to Rome, all alone, left her feeling anxious for the rest of the day.

************************

Sasha ceased filming and realised that this incident had immediately caused panic amongst the visitors to St Peter's Square, but was thrilled that she had captured this monumental moment on film. Her classmates ran towards her shouting: "Did you see that?" and "Oh my God! What just happened?" Sasha screamed: "I got it on my phone!" She played it back several times over. Her teacher, Maurice Thibaut, who had sole charge of the school children, intervened, calming her friends down before enquiring as to what was causing the interest in Sasha's phone. Maurice subsequently viewed the footage. Spotting a member of the Carabinieri (an effective police presence in the city made up of civilian volunteers), he explained the situation, in fluent Italian, that he had important footage which might be of use.

The media and the police had a good understanding, working in harmony to report incidents and issue bulletins to help apprehend criminals at large. The media formed an important alliance with the force to do what was necessary quickly and effectively to reduce crime, and relied on footage from the general public. The footage was sent to the news centre and within minutes it made headline-breaking news.

************************

Patrick O'Donoghue was ready to take a break from his work at CERN. His relentless schedule as a technician for the European Organization for Nuclear Research was taking its toll. Whilst studying at Cambridge, he was certain his future lay in quantum mechanics, so to land a job at CERN was a dream come true, but Patrick had become concerned: pummelling protons into  each other at a velocity close to the speed of light must have consequences. The Large Hadron Collider was dangerous; there were rumours that it was creating different dimensions, black holes, alternate universes, all of which was disconcerting.

Patrick originated from Cork, Ireland, the son of a wealthy real estate agent. A typical nerd, he wore glasses, had long, dark curly hair, dressed unfashionably and had little in the way of self-esteem. He only stood 1.73 metres high, another disadvantage when it came to his popularity at high school. Educated at Stanford University, his curriculum vitae was impressive, as were his glowing references. Having landed his dream job, his current uncertainty about his future was unsettling, uncharacteristic.

He called his father, Callum.

"Hi, Dad. It's Patrick."

"Pat, how are you, son?" said Callum. Only his father called Patrick by this nickname.

"Fine, Pa! I'm looking to go to Rome for a few days. Just ringing so you know," said Patrick.

"Rome? Me and your Ma were hoping you'd be coming home soon," said Callum, knowing it was a futile request.

"Just busy, Pa, you know how it is. I've been a bit unsettled lately, so I'm taking a break. Doing some voluntary work," said Patrick, not wanting to linger too much on the finer details.

"Sure, son. You know, Cathleen keeps asking after you. She's not married yet, Pat. Still holds a candle for you."

"Yeah, Pa, I know. Tell her I was asking after her," said Patrick, not wanting to dwell. His long-term relationship with Cathleen became difficult once his CERN position was confirmed. In truth, Patrick hadn't found love and he still had a soft spot for her. Maybe in a few years, he thought. "I'll try to make it home on my birthday. Give my love to everyone."

"I'll tell ye Ma straight away, Pat. March 23rd isn't that far off. Cathleen will be chuffed," said Callum. He so wanted his son back home.

Patrick's email confirmation mirrored that of James's and Sophia's. He just needed clearance from his duties, but that would be a formality. This could be the change he was looking for. Time to reflect.

Rome beckoned.

*****************************

Once the pandemonium settled down, there was an insurgence of police activity in the square. Tourists and visitors alike were ushered away from the scene whilst police assessed the situation. The incident occurred just to the right of the Egyptian Obelisk, occupying the centre of the square.

It didn't take long for this story to reach rivalling news stations as this monumental incident began to gather interest. Before Maurice had intervened, Sasha had already posted the video on her social media page, headed 'Alien invasion?' It was immediately shared by all her followers and it didn't take long before Sasha's unedited version was posted on a live video stream; the hits had reached 50,000 within an hour.

Elana Martinelli from Rai News was the first reporter to reach the scene. The film crew rapidly began to set up. A young man named David Rosscat walked towards the film crew. He was at the square with his girlfriend, Claire, when the incident occurred, filming her for their video blog. David saw the commotion and cut to the action. He got the incident without any camera shakes.

Back at the television studios, the newsreader announced the interview with David:

"We interrupt the sports bulletin to go live to St Peter's Square... Elana, can you hear me?" said the newsreader, Dan.

"Yes, Dan, I can hear you," said Elana.

"What can you report about the mysterious incident at the square earlier?"

"Dan, the square is completely overrun by police. Everyone has been ushered away from the scene. If you look behind me, you can see around 50 police officers surrounding the area where the incident took place. It is being completely sealed off," said Elana. "I have David Rosscat from the UK with his girlfriend, Claire, who were at the scene when the incident occurred. David, could you tell us what you saw?"

David only spoke basic Italian, so Elana translated his English version of events for the viewers.

"I was filming my girlfriend, Claire, when I heard some shouting. I moved my phone towards the noise and just saw the most amazing thing: these guys just vanished into thin air. It was like they just pixelated into a swirling wind and then they were just gone. It was, like, awesome!" his command of the English language only marginally better than his Italian.

"Elana, we are showing the footage now," said Dan.

No one had ever seen anything like this; it was truly baffling.

As the interview was taking place, more people came over to Elana, uttering something about a force field. Instinctively, Elana asked one of the intruders what they knew about the incident.

"There is a force field. The police won't let anyone near it!"

Elena quizzed the intruder further: "What do you mean by a 'force field'?"

"I rushed to the site to see what all the fuss was about and asked what was going on. They said that the area where the people vanished is some kind of force field."

"There you have it, Dan. More mystery surrounding the disappearance and lots of confusion," said Elana.

"Thank you, Elana. We will try to keep you updated as the story unfolds," Dan announced, before moving on to other news items.

************************

Bella Laurent didn't get chance to visit home much these days, but she had a holiday planned and was due to arrive home in Colmar, France, on 15th February.

The email changed all that.

Antarctica was cold and a world away from the climate she was used to in France. She had to call home. Holding a cherished family photo, which took pride of place on her desk, she made the call at precisely 12pm. Her hairstyle had changed from the long, flowing locks in the old family photograph. It was short these days, but still the same jet-black colour, complementing her fair skin. Her father was in the photo; she missed him dearly. He always referred to her as his Sleeping Beauty.

Michelle Laurent answered the call at 8am, her time. Once the pleasantries were out of the way about her environmental work at the Halley Research Centre, Bella broke the news:

"I will be in Rome on 15th February, Mum, so I won't be home until 17th."

Bella hated to disappoint. Michelle took it in her stride. She looked at the photo of Bella on the mantelpiece; her first day at school. How she longed to return to those days when life was so simple and the only thing she had to worry about was what to pack in Bella's lunchbox. Her now-silver hair was a far cry from the jet-black in the photo. The reassurance that her  daughter would arrive home on the 17th softened the blow but, in reality, her heart sank.

Bella reminisced: she longed for a warm croissant at her favourite cafe, Le Chalet, in the square. She used to frequent the little cafe with her school friends, when the summers were long and friendship was everything. She missed her friends, the sun on her face, the secure feeling of home.

That night, Antarctica seemed just a little less inhospitable as the memories of her childhood came flooding back. The new adventure soon returned to her thoughts; a possible turning point in her life.

*****************************

In Atlanta, USA, the broadcaster CNN was covering the story, constantly showing footage posted by Sasha and David. The news station had not covered a story so riveting in years, so they invited guests to the studio for expert opinions.

The interview went as follows:

"We report now on the incident in St Peter's Square, Rome. We will show you footage of what appears to be seven people who have mysteriously disappeared into thin air. The footage was caught by a French schoolgirl and an English backpacker. We'll play you the footage and then ask our experts to comment," Sheryl announced.

The footage was played in full and was pretty conclusive.

"I am joined by the international illusionist Harrington Blue and the eminent cosmologist Dr Nigel Fischer. Let me first ask Harrington: is this an illusion?"

"Well, it's pretty impressive if it is an illusion. Unless, of course, those who took the footage are in on the act."

"Dr Fischer, what do you make of this extraordinary incident?"

"Totally baffled at the moment. I think it is important to verify the validity of the footage to ensure that it is not doctored in any way before we jump to conclusions. A disappearance like that defies all the laws of nature. It's truly perplexing, if it is authentic. There are no known forces which can account for the dispersal of matter in the fashion we see in the footage."

"Could this be an alien abduction?" asked Sheryl, openly.

"Highly unlikely, Sheryl." Dr Fischer continued, "By that, I mean we are the only known intelligent life form in the universe. If there is another intelligent life form, you would think they could find a more subtle method of abduction than in broad daylight. No, I don't think this is an alien abduction."

"I think even Spielberg would be hard pressed to produce anything as convincing as that footage. If this is the work of a fellow magician, you know my number," said Harrington, inadvertently interrupting Fischer.

"Well, if it is one of Harrington's fellow magicians, then CNN want to hear from them first. Nigel, there appears to be some kind of magnetic force field that has been left behind - what do you make of that?"

"It's just conjecture, as I see it. Similar strange incidents have occurred, such as the Philadelphia Experiment, allegedly carried out by the US Navy back in 1943, when a secret technology rendered a military ship invisible. There is a 'unified field theory', a term first introduced by Albert Einstein, which could explain it, but that it still unproven. It could be 'ball lightning', which is supposed to distort our 'space-time continuum' and provide a fleeting glimpse into some unknown cosmos. All in all, nothing is yet proven." Dr Fischer excelled in his knowledge, but drew a roll of the eyes from Harrington.

"Well, thank you both for your fascinating insights, but at the moment, as Nigel stated, it is all conjecture."

************************

The email arrived at 9:15am. The weather in Osaka was humid. The office was air-conditioned, exotic plants added to the ambience, but Kosuke Hanazawa ached for a change. Kosuke read the email several times, purely for verification of its authenticity.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) was his life, but accepting a position at AI Robotics, an innovative but new company, had been a mistake. He longed to return to the Institute of Technology, Osaka. Research work there had been far more rewarding. The race to produce the perfect humanoid was all encompassing. Talented, bordering on genius, was a heavy weight for Kosuke. He felt trapped.

Maya, his close colleague, had stumbled across information about AI Robotics which deeply concerned Kosuke. Rather than betray her and face tough questions from higher management, he decided it was time for his exit. He wasn't entirely convinced that the research work at AI Robotics was ethical. He collared Maya in the corridor leading to her office.

"I'm going to Rome," said Kosuke.

"When?" asked Maya, taken somewhat by surprise.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You can't. The holiday rota has been set - you're not supposed to be off until June. When did this happen?"

"Maya, you know I haven't been happy here for some time. The only reason I'm telling you is that you are the only person I care about here. You know it's getting strange around this place. Too much secrecy. You said so yourself."

"No reason to go off to Rome without telling me," said Maya, for the first time showing real affection.

"I'll keep in touch, I promise. Anyway, I'll be back soon. Keep an eye on things for me. Whatever is going on here, I don't like it."

The email was timely, gave him a whole new opportunity. An adventure. A change in direction.

Rome was the perfect tonic.

At exactly the same time as Kosuke received his email, Demitri Petrov punched the air in triumph. He, too, was offered sanctuary. A release from mediocrity. Demitri knew little of Rome, but he didn't care. At precisely 10:15am, the email popped into Demitri's inbox. Four-and-a-half thousand miles separated Kosuke and Demitri and yet Rome offered the same hope.

Isoclone, like AI Robotics, was a new player in its field: AI Robotics in the field of robot technology: Isoclone in the field of cloning. Demitri had given up a promising career as a surgeon to join Isoclone; it was for the money and it was a mistake.

Isoclone's new annexe at Skolkovo had seen military personnel entering the complex mysteriously and Demitri had seen it with his own eyes but feared he might have been spotted snooping. Even a novice private investigator would have noticed the security cameras. In the aftermath of his investigative work, he constantly worried about the repercussions: just the call of his name in the office had Demitri on edge. They might be on to him. Had he uncovered a secret? It was time for a change of scene.

Rome couldn't come soon enough.

************************

The Pentagon was the first to take the phenomenon at St Peter's Square seriously. The Secretary of Defense made a call to the newly appointed President of the United States, then a call to London. Their joint intelligence would either confirm or rule out any imminent threat.

The protocol: under no circumstances must the public be informed. The US Secretary of Defense called the Italian Intelligence Agency to ensure that neither the public nor the media had access to the site. The USA and the UK, both being considered at the forefront of intelligence gathering, assisted the Italians in organising a co-ordinated press release.

Social media networks were buzzing, elaborate theories posted about this new phenomenon, ranging from alien intervention to the Second Coming of Christ. There was no end to the prophesies - End of the World, Judgment Day and so on. A press release was needed, and quick.

Italy made an official announcement, but it lacked clarity. This was an obvious stalling statement designed to buy time. The announcement came at 10pm Central European Time on 15th February from the Chief-of-Police in Rome:

"As you know, an incident occurred early this afternoon at St Peter's Square which caused some alarm. We would like to assure the public that we have the situation under full control and there is nothing to be alarmed about. The area has been cordoned off as a precautionary measure until our investigations are complete, which might take some time. We are evaluating the video footage to fully assess the situation. We cannot see any immediate danger, but the military presence is necessary, again, only as a precautionary measure. We would hope to have a more informed announcement shortly."

With that the Chief-of-Police vacated the press conference from outside the police headquarters before heading back inside the building.

Top military officials from across the globe were sent to Rome to assess the potential threat. Scientists in the field of quantum mechanics and electromagnetism were gathered. The interest was understandable and no end of highly qualified  scientists offered their services. The exposure would no doubt significantly enhance their standing; to successfully evaluate such a strange phenomenon would lead to fame, success, a book deal, even celebrity status, as well as much needed project funding.

The magnetic field left behind, following the disappearance of the individuals, was baffling. There appeared to be no immediate danger, yet nothing could penetrate the force field: water, fire, ammunition, electricity, sound waves, nothing had any effect. Everything had been tried, all avenues exhausted, the activities were monitored by the military, who had one eye on the possibility of a disaster occurring. In essence, the scientific world had never seen the like, so to expect a meaningful evaluation was laughable.

Both the military and eminent scientists came to the same predictable conclusion: this must emanate from some form of higher intelligence. Most of the general public could quite easily have deduced the same. If it was a result of an alien intelligence, then what could be their motive?

************************

Scott McCabe ran his finger over the scar on his midriff. The hellish near-death experience, the angry grandson, a $5m income, shedding his Evangelist past: the scar was a stark reminder.

Scott cut a fine figure of a man, about 84kg, 1.8 metres in height, blond hair, deep-blue eyes and the stereotypical American square jaw. A handsome man who would be highly successful whatever his chosen profession, purely based on his looks and charm.

He looked across at his beautiful wife, oblivious of the attention. He had almost traded his family for the trappings  of wealth and the adulation of fame as a television personality on the circuit, performing the usual intensified sermons and miracle healings. Staring at his wife reminded him of all that was good, but flashbacks of the stabbing haunted him. The grandmother who he had convinced was healed, later to be confronted by her grandson, knife in hand, hate in his eyes, ready to avenge her death.

His life had changed. No longer the fame-hungry, wealthy evangelist, but a loving husband, a father who adored both his children unequivocally, a true Christian, here to serve.

Scott knew Monica wouldn't be happy with the news. He walked over to his wife, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Darling, remember I mentioned that I wanted to do some more voluntary work?"

"You already do three voluntary roles at the moment, Scott. Me and the kids," she paused, "well, we never see you these days. I know you desperately want to make amends for the past, but there's only so much you can do," said Monica, tending to their three-year-old daughter, Millie.

"I know, I know," said Scott, apologetically. "It's just that this wonderful opportunity has come up, in Rome." He paused while his wife took in the enormity of the idea.

"Rome? So, you're just gonna leave me to cope with the kids alone, Scott? I don't think I can take this. You already do two soup kitchens plus voluntary visits to the elderly. Hell, the whole of Kentucky knows who you are. What about me, Scott?" said Monica, realising immediately that her choice of the word 'hell' wasn't appropriate.

"No need to use that kind of language," said Scott, before re-evaluating. "Look, I'll only be gone a few days. I just want to widen our connections. I need to move on from the soup  kitchens. You never know where this will lead us," said Scott, doing his best to sell the positives.

"When do you leave?"

"Couple of days," said Scott.

"I could never stop you doing what you wanted to do, Scott. Suppose there's no point now," said Monica, immediately going back to tending to Millie.

The email confirmation had arrived.

Scott McCabe was about to embark on a new mission. A chance for redemption. The place was irrelevant; the cause everything. Rome the destination. And so it was for all seven chosen individuals.
**CHAPTER 3**

**THE CHOSEN**

Without notice, the force field became active.

An excruciating, high-pitched noise emanated from the force field. The military retreated. Now an opaque sphere, its appearance had changed. Thirty or so soldiers looked on in awe. The Commander ordered a retreat, about 30 metres. The tension was clearly visible: armoured vehicles, an arsenal of weapons at the ready, a desire to strike, just needing the order, any slight irregularity and the Commander would issue it.

Suddenly, the sphere, near ten metres in diameter, appeared to swirl, becoming darker on the surface but with a visible light at its core. The swirling gradually became more forceful, the darkness on the surface replaced by a variation of colours, the high-pitched noise turning into a pulsating droning sound.

The military, poised to take action, waited.

The sphere began to pixelate. The military commander looked nervously at the target, brow sweating, heart rate off the Richter scale. Unsure how to react: does he unleash hell or wait? Were they on the brink of annihilation? The question was not if they should fire, but when. The order was to retreat further, followed by a 'Take aim' which, in the eyes of the soldiers, favoured unleashing hell.

A strange shape emerged from within the sphere. Unrecognisable, yet hauntingly familiar. As the force field diminished, those eagerly anticipating the reveal watched in agony; the order not to unleash hell proved to be an astute move.

They had returned. Seven individuals who would never be the same.

Only a few days earlier, the same seven individuals had been making their way to St Peter's Square, Rome. It seemed the most natural choice. Each had reached a crossroads, each had chosen the same path, the one that united them.

************************

The article was entitled _Earth in Torment_. It had almost been written specifically for each of the seven. There was no doubt they would respond, and so it was to be.

The article read:

'Earth in Torment' Appeal

_We are in an age of uncertainty, one which seems to have reached a crossroads. Our chosen path could either lead to destruction or salvation._

_A super technology, a higher spiritual intelligence, beckons._

_Intolerance, greed, obsession, religious uncertainty, political deceit, the desire to destroy our beautiful planet. Sound familiar?_

_Time to shed this warped subservient outer skin and reveal the butterfly._

_Ever wondered how life might be?_

_Wondered how technological advances might be the salvation of mankind rather than the destruction?_

_Do you want to change your life for the better?_

_Are you willing to change your world?_

_If you are seeking truth and able to help create a better world, then we need you. We seek seven pioneers._

Signed off by ' _The Earth in Torment Humanitarian Organisation_ '.

Each received their confirmation by email with specific instructions attached.

_You have been selected. Travel arrangements have been made; documentation enclosed. We meet at St Peter 's Square in Rome on 15th February 2018 at 12:45pm, near the obelisk. Download an app called 'Earth in Torment', which will guide you to your destination. Your profile has been uploaded and your password for access will be sent separately by text with a link to the app. You will be able to view the other chosen applicants and liaise. The app has GPS to confirm that you have reached the destination point._

Bella was the first to arrive, at around 12:40pm. She had downloaded the app and checked the profiles of the other chosen applicants. The app had retina recognition to eradicate misuse, an added translation mode and interactive map to track the travels of her compatriots. Everything seemed perfect. They were all on track and in transit. Bella couldn't help thinking that this eerily resembled a modern-day nativity scene, the app replacing the Star of Bethlehem. As she approached the obelisk, the red dot signifying her geographical position turned amber; she was close.

The dot turned green; she had arrived.

By 12:50pm, all seven had arrived.

The app confirmed their arrival with seven green dots visible, then an instruction popped up:

_You have all reached your destination. Please form a circle and hold hands._

This message was displayed on each phone, in the language of their choice, to ensure a complete understanding of the command.

The second they joined hands they were transported. It was instant.

They reappeared in St Peter's Square at exactly the same spot 36 hours later.

The Commander quickly assessed the situation. None of the seven was harmed. They appeared to be the same seven individuals. It was 12:01am on 17th February. The search lights used to examine the force field earlier were shining directly at the seven individuals holding hands in a circle. The individuals broke their human chain, turned around to face the military personnel and raised their hands; they were not armed.

The night in Rome was unnervingly clear, the stars unusually bright. The moonlight shone on the city as if to announce their arrival. A new beginning. The calmness of those abducted, who mysteriously reappeared in the same fashion as they had left, was as serene as the night sky. They were each ready for their fate. Their task.

************************

The call was made to the Pentagon. The Secretary of Defense answered:

"Sir, the missing individuals have returned. The force field has evaporated. We have the matter under control. How do we proceed?" asked the Commander.

"Apprehend them, peacefully. Move the individuals by military vehicle to the Leonardo da Vinci airport. We have an aircraft on standby, but they will need to go through basic  quarantine before they board," was the reply. "And confiscate their phones!" came the final instruction.

"What's the destination, Sir?" the Commander quizzed.

"Area 51, Nevada."

The base was the internationally agreed destination to interrogate the abductees, should they return. Suitable international representation of the major world powers was brokered. Area 51 would accommodate officials from the most powerful nations, each representative to have a voice. This exercise might be based in Nevada, but it would have global representation.

The Lockheed C-141 star lifter aircraft landed at the base in Nevada around 6am on 18th February, US time. The runway at Area 51 is four kilometres long and the aircraft landed effortlessly. Special protective clothing was supplied to the abductees before landing as a safety measure for entering the base; a stark reminder of the perilous position the seven found themselves in.

Probably the most appropriate nickname for Area 51 is 'Dreamland', so called in the famous Edgar Allan Poe poem of the same name, stating that 'the traveller, travelling through it, may not - dare openly view it'. Area 51 is strictly off limits to the public and the seven were about to find out why.
**CHAPTER 4**

**WE ARE NOT ALONE**

The abductees were checked thoroughly. Full medical examinations; all seemed good. Alien abductions had been known, many accounts had been recorded, but there was never concrete proof, just speculation from crack-pots. This time there was no doubt: these individuals had been somewhere, nobody was quite sure where, but they had returned to tell their story.

Interrogation of all seven, obviously carried out with the utmost courtesy and discretion, revealed the same story. Without hesitation or any kind of prompting - even under strict interrogation procedures - each of the abductees had conveyed exactly the same message. An alien invasion to take over Earth, with a twist: one alien nation would be our enemy; the other our ally.

Wherever they had been taken in the vast echelons of outer space, they had acquired alien technology on their phones. James Eaton was about to give a demonstration.

The alien craft at the base was not what James Eaton had expected. This was a combat spacecraft, a world away from the stereotypical flying saucer. A workhorse of a ship, a  dull-grey colour, battered and looking worse for wear, held up on hydraulic arms, stationary. The craft had strange external markings, diamond shapes that intertwined. The hieroglyphic markings drew the eye. A galactic map etched on the hull signified the alien's origin.

James instantly took a photograph of the ship's markings on his phone and uploaded it.

"This will determine the alien race," said James.

The translation on his phone indicated that the ship originated from the star system Zeta Reticuli (a dim binary system 39.5 light years away from Earth). This had been a warship which had travelled through many portals in pursuit of habitable planets. The ship had a unique serial number. Its capabilities included portal travel, domestic speeds immeasurable in earthly terms and, more worryingly, his phone identified that it was part of a fleet of warships. Maybe an omen of things to come.

"Undarthians," said James, "as predicted."

Equipped with alien software installed on his phone, the image taken identified the alien race. James was in full control.

The oval-shaped ship had three different platform levels and measured around 200ft high by 100ft long. Each level was slightly smaller than the other, joined by a thin, interconnecting ridge about a metre high, for movement between the three levels. The lower level housed the alien warriors, the seats resembling business class: bucket type, but way more advanced. Sophisticated transparent screen monitors were suspended, hovering above and in front of the strangely shaped seats with seemingly no wires holding them in position. The central level resembled a glass house, humid and cold. Rows of white cylinders half the length of the craft dominated this level. Hundreds of cylinders.

"Refrigeration for food, cryogenically preserved," said James. "See the incubators over there? They induce a hypothermic state for long journeys."

James moved up to the top level, followed by Hank Richards, a military commander at Area 51. Hank was in his late thirties, a strapping figure of a man. Proud to work in Security at the base, he couldn't believe his luck: he would get to see an alien ship work. Hopefully.

"How do you know all this stuff? We couldn't fathom it," said Hank.

"That would be telling," replied James, who had strict instructions from his interrogators, further up the chain of command than Hank, to divulge as little as possible.

"How long have you had this at the base?" asked James.

"Not long. Crashed mysteriously here in the Nevada Desert. No aliens. Figured they must have been picked up by another ship," said Hank, as if this was all routine.

The top level was spectacular. This was the heart of the ship with only a few seats yet surrounded by a web of technology. The seats, superior to those at base level, had similar transparent monitors, wafer thin, almost liquid in appearance, hovering in mid-air. The walls were like huge plasma screens and there was a semi-circular cockpit, 180 degrees, with a floor made of a strange metallic substance, like mercury. Around the circumference of the floor were circles.

"So, where do we start, James?" asked Hank.

"At the beginning," said James, sarcastically.

James's phone began to sync with the craft. It was like switching on the Christmas lights. The ship's monitors lit up with symbols and strange shapes; it was an alien operating system. The monitors displayed an array of hieroglyphics, maps of mysterious star systems; these were the graphics used  to guide the ship. The circles surrounding the perimeter of the floor rose, which startled Hank; more seats. The look on his face was priceless.

"Now for the interesting part," said James.

Hank gave James a look. _Could it possibly get more interesting?_ he thought.

James opened up a program on his phone, typed in an instruction and the screens reacted. A blueprint of the ship appeared and a detailed 3D image projected itself from the screen.

"Hey, man! How in God's name did you do that? You talking to this ship?" asked Hank.

"Yeah, just trying to figure out how to access the files. There should be a file for missions that will give us a lowdown on their plan," replied James.

"Man, you're good!"

"Comes with practice, but this shit can get you into trouble. My dad wasn't best pleased when I hacked into his bank account," revealed James. His confidence now oozing.

"Yeah, I guess that could get you seriously grounded."

"Wait a minute," said James. "Bingo!"

The screen formulated a graphic of Earth and the aliens' game plan displayed in a holographic image.

Hank's thought, that it couldn't possibly get more interesting, was instantly proved wrong.
**CHAPTER 5**

**THE KILLING CHAMBERS**

The land was barren, bereft of life. Miles of desolate, uncompromising wasteland, devoid of anything remotely habitable. A huge building stood out, in the same manner Las Vegas protrudes in a vast, brutal desert.

A quarter of a mile square, this was an outstanding piece of ingenuity, the colour a morbid grey. The structure resembled an aircraft carrier, the exterior a kind of corrugated material, clearly not designed to be aesthetically pleasing.

Surrounding it was a force field, around 100 feet in height and set back from the building some ten metres: an impenetrable field, there to ensure no unauthorised access. In this bleak, uncompromising wasteland, it was baffling to work out who did have access.

A break in the force field activated by retina recognition gave enough time for the approved individual to enter, although to dawdle would be fatal. Access was permissible for the equivalent of 15 Earth seconds, or close to it, before the force field would reactivate. Death had been known to occur.

************************

The planet Zarduzian, eerily similar in size to Earth, was conveniently situated in the 'Goldilocks Zone' (a distance from a star thought to be perfect to produce life).

As menacing as the outer structure was, the inner part of this complex was an unimaginable horror. To penetrate this complex was seemingly impossible, dwarfed by the sinister security inside. Sophisticated drones, in military fashion, circled the huge space. Around 500, all equipped with laser weapons capable of exterminating any unauthorised intruder. Blanket peripheral vision ensured excellent overall coverage of the premises; there wasn't anywhere the drone couldn't strike. Formidable and frighteningly efficient.

The force field opened, maximum 15 seconds, the entrant authorised. Annaluce was through. She waited on the other side of the force field.

The second entrant was cleared. Daxzus Zaetsalsae followed his daughter into the warehouse. They were both greeted by the resident guard, Omalius Sousa.

The Zaagan guard greeted the Commander-in-Chief: "Commander, we weren't expecting you. Greetings to you. Greetings, Miss Zaetsalsae. I trust you are both well. How was your trip to Elacture?"

"Good," said Daxzus, clearly wanting to press on. "Have the hosts arrived?"

"Yes, Commander. Would you like to inspect?"

"As you know, I have pressing matters on another planet. This visit is for the benefit of my daughter. She will be in charge here in my absence."

"Very good, Commander. Follow me," said Omalius.

They walked over to the cloning area. Seven chambers were loaded with the hosts. The seven clones alongside.

"As you can see, Commander, the clones are complete," said  Omalius, with obvious pride in his work. He led Annaluce and her father to the most recent arrivals at the request of her father.

"Very good. Annaluce, notice the precision?" said Daxzus.

Annaluce was somewhat taken back. The thought of hosts being replicated in the cloning chambers was sickening. These seven clones were complete but other chambers in varying stages of cloning demonstrated the horrors of the procedure: peeling off the face to fine-tune the bone structure of the clone; stitching hair to the clone's scalps; transferring the host's thoughts and memories, extrapolated via painful electromagnetic pulses, all robotically engineered; not for the faint-hearted.

"Impressive," Annaluce said in an attempt to please her father. In truth, though, she was repulsed. She inspected one of the finished clones closely against the original: "This alien has a blemish on its wrist.' It was a birth mark, circular and approximately 40 mm in diameter. 'Precision you say, Father?"

"Well?" said Daxzus as he turned to Omalius for an explanation.

"Very observant of you, Miss Zaetsalsae. The blemish is small and when the alien is cloned it will not be visible. Indeed, it is only visible because the host's garment has been lifted to the upper arm whilst we induce fluids. These clones are perfect replicas; birth marks need extra attention, but only if we feel it is required. In this case, it is insignificant," replied Omalius.

"How long does it normally take to complete the cloning?"

"Thirty-six hours," said Omalius.

"How long before these are transported to the 'killing chambers'?" asked Daxzus, now showing signs of impatience.

"Any time now Commander. You care to watch?" said Omalius.

He paused, considering. "Yes, I suppose so. She needs to see this," replied Daxzus.

Annaluce looked up at the drones circling the plant.

"Do the drones ever malfunction, Father?" A desperate attempt to switch the subject from the horrors she was witnessing.

"Never."

Drones were around five metres in diameter, circular for agility of movement, jet-black and uncompromising. Drone refuelling was precision: at uniquely set intervals, around a week in Earth time, drones would exit the complex. Each drone's refuelling process was set at precise intervals, security intact. It took a total of 450 drones to secure the complex at any one time, so as not to compromise an extensive level of security. This meant around seven drones would exit the complex daily for refuelling. The force field was automatically suspended for precisely the time span needed for the drones' safe exit through the force field. They all hooked up to a unit outside. A huge mast, around three metres thick and 80 metres high with docking stations resembling bowls at every ten metres, measured the exact specification for drones to dock. These docking bowls were conveniently placed at alternate sides of the mast. All seven drones could dock simultaneously.

At the summit of the mast was the receiver - the energiser - used for docking something other than drones: the 'Power Balls'.

Annaluce was made to wait.

"As you can see, the chambers are now being lifted. The poles above will transport the hosts to the killing chambers," said Omalius.

Annaluce reluctantly dared to ask: "What happens to the clones?"

"They will be woken shortly. We test the accuracy of intelligence transfer from the hosts," said Daxzus.

"Against what?" asked Annaluce.

"The information we gathered from the hosts after we transported them via the portal force field from their home planet. Interrogation usually does the trick."

"Interrogation, Father? You mean torture?"

"We interpret things differently, Annaluce," said her father. He wasn't able to look her in the eye.

Zaagans had mastered solar power. Power balls, 20 metres in diameter, sent on a precision orbit of their star, made of material compact and robust enough to withstand enormous temperatures, plasma-covered to deflect heat, were able to contain energy up of eight billion watts. These 'energy balls' powered the planet. They orbit their star at a safe distance, close enough to obtain maximum energy. Orbiting space stations circling Zarduzian, equipped to propel at speeds a thousand times faster than any human spacecraft, power balls increase in speed as they near their star, extracting the maximum amount of energy, thus re-energising themselves. Similarly, they reduce speed as they distance the star to dock safely into the orbiting space station. A cooling period ensues before the power balls navigate safe planetary entry, only for the process to repeat. Engineered to self-manoeuvre, power balls are efficiency personified. Fifty orbiting space stations propel thousands of power balls. Energy masts litter Zarduzian, resulting in continual self-sufficiency.

Daxzus escorted Annaluce to the killing chambers. The seven abducted from Elacture had moved into position.

"The seven chambers, Miss Zaetsalsae. The screen shows events on their planet," said Omalius. He rarely got close to the killing chambers.

"Do they wake?" said Annaluce, looking at her father, scrutinising his answer and weighing up his body language for any hint of deviance from the truth.

"Depends. Normally they are disposed of quickly. They are brain-dead anyway." A lie, but Daxzus could see his daughter's disgust. In reality, they awoke to witness the horror of their deathly predicament, made to watch the events unfold on their home planet via a screen in front of them. Once their clones had been deported to their home planet and had been accepted as authentic, then the hosts were of no use. It would, however, be a slow countdown to their disposal, an agonising wait.

Annaluce gazed around the room: hundreds of killing chambers, all in rows of seven, all to be fed to the 'squalors'.

_Squalors are the degenerate population of Zarduzian, unable to access basic amenities to survive, capable of eating anything tossed their way. This derisory term became fashionable, used in a derogatory manner by the elite of the planet. Squalors were fellow citizens who had become animals._

Omalius sensed her unease. "Would you like to inspect the cryogenic vats?"

"Please," said Annaluce. Anything to escape this gruesome area, at least for the moment.

They walked past the killing chambers through the cloning area to a storage room.

"Fifteen vats," said Omalius, "all cryogenically equipped."

A vat was opened. Tubes of fertilised eggs. Hundreds of different species.

"We obtain DNA from the host before their abduction, then impregnate the eggs. The clones are grown in pouches," said Daxzus as they moved towards the incubators.

Annaluce knew that cloning farms had grown many replications of her. She preferred not to know; you don't need to see the animal slaughtered before you eat the meat.

Cloning wasn't new: a technique mastered many hundreds of years ago by the Zaagan civilisation on Zarduzian, it was now  routine. The technique hugely enhanced life expectancy. Farms provided body parts that would assimilate.

Citizens hailed the breakthrough. Stem cells cured illnesses, so life expectancy increased. The benefits were available to all, which was fine when the population was at a mere nine billion.

Compared with Earth, Zarduzian had just three main continents, a similar overall land mass, water was plentiful and the land provided adequate food. That all changed when the population hit 15 billion. Clone research had moved on, but the benefits were now limited to the few; the cost to provide a service to all was far too high.

The establishment decided to censor this new technique, which the masses relied upon, as dangerous. In reality, 'cloning farms' were secretly erected in wastelands by the elite, for the privileged. With robots now prevalent, manual labour had almost been eradicated, meaning the task of building the farms for the wealthy was pretty straightforward.

Annaluce made a request.

"All very interesting, Father. May I wander around alone for a while?"

"Of course. Feel free," said Daxzus, as he nodded to Omalius for his approval - a look that indicated he wasn't expecting an objection.

Annaluce made her way to the killing chambers. There was one killing chamber that needed particular attention, but there wasn't much time as she needed to head back to the capital, Larquiston.

************************

There are just 37 designated cities on Zarduzian, known as 'capitals', to monitor, govern and run the planet.

The Government hailed the new and liberal society. The three continents, once proud of their individual identities, were to conform, accept the new way, the unity of all three continents as one. All were equal, now just one main government ruled with one voice: The Zarduzian State. It promised to solve the overpopulation, the dwindling food supply and the limited resources.

The Zaagan technological advances had been improving transportation with much ingenuity. Gravity control moved to a new level, culminating in the possibility of erecting floating buildings suspended simply by controlling gravity.

The population growth was now out of hand, putting huge pressure on the planet's resources. Poverty was clearly becoming an issue as the elite held on to the most valuable resources the planet had to offer.

The erection of the 'great walls', around 200 feet high, surrounding each of the 37 capitals, was hailed as a major defence mechanism with vantage points to ward off threat from potential hostile aliens. The capitals occupied all three continents. In the aftermath of the abolition of individual identity, the population was now ruled by the one state, representing all three land masses; the squalors had been fooled by the planet's political elite.

An army of robots erected the walls within a year. The Council promised 'floating cities', a result of anti-gravity technology, as a solution to the shortage of food and living space. At close to 20 billion, the sheer population size had rendered the planet unable to provide for its citizens. Floating cities promised hope; they were the answer.

The capitals, vastly overpopulated, only had room for the elite, those who would purportedly carry out this global plan and give new hope to the masses. The force fields, however,  revealed the horrible truth. Strategically placed outside the capital cities were walls of energy at least as high as the walls themselves - killing machines, should they be touched. The clone farms were also ring-fenced with force fields. Floating cities provided the resources all right - food, livestock, extra living space - but not for the masses, as promised, just for those in the 37 capitals.

The plan unfolded, the underprivileged left to the scraps outside, all the technology and resources reserved for those living in the capitals, protected by the great walls. Some of the floating cities, hailed as the saviours, became prisons, the remainder for cultivating food, producing livestock and providing high-profile luxury apartments for the privileged.

The new prisons, around 3,000 square feet, were designed as 'torture chambers' for any rebel who might try to oppose the State. Many prisoners opted for suicide as a release from the torture. No one knew the horrors of the floating prisons; nobody survived to tell. The ground scattered with flattened carcasses was a testament to the prisoners' choice to die through suicide rather than endure.

Billions were left to fend for themselves, anarchy ensued, a jungle mentality developed. The once self-sufficient, prosperous Zarduzian, a distant memory. Some considered the prison torture chambers a feasible alternative to the ordinary hellish existence outside the great walls.

Present-day Zarduzian had seen the population rise to 60 billion. The capitals' elite were in control, but only just. Population within the capitals increased as the cloning farms flourished, providing a life-span unsustainable for the planet. Cloning farms became more sinister. Zaagans, now living to an age of 300 years or more, demanded ever more sophisticated cloning techniques. Long gone was the need for cloned Zaagans  to provide mere body parts; this was a blessing for the clone, cruel beyond comprehension. Now clones were stripped of their organs until they were lifeless carcasses, nothing remaining, shut in chambers. The new fad was a complete body replacement. Clones could be continually produced, a new body, same life. The transplant of the most vital organ, the brain, by now a relatively routine procedure.

The pressure of overpopulation was intense; the capitals themselves were under threat from becoming jungles.

************************

Annaluce returned. Her father had kept a vigil.

"You seemed interested in one particular chamber," said Daxzus.

"Just intrigued, Father. Thought you would be pleased that I am showing an interest."

"Of course," said Daxzus. He was, however, a little perturbed by the specific chamber she had visited. He cast away the thought as just coincidence, nothing more.

"Are we finished?" asked Annaluce. "I have a reception waiting. Only two hours, Father. The Games. Had you forgotten?"

Omalius sensed the urgency. "Let me escort you both out, Commander. Visit again - you are always welcome."

They left. Annaluce had accomplished her objective.

The craft sped from the killing chambers and, in no time, both Annaluce and her father had reached Larquiston, the most eminent of all the 37 capitals. Their craft meandered effortlessly in and amongst those travelling to and from this illustrious city.

The city was vibrant, crowds gathered in the main square eagerly anticipating the Games. Elaborate parties were in their  final stages of preparation for those privileged enough to be invited at the request of the most affluent residents. Annaluce was no exception, and as they hovered over the city the craft homed in on its destination: Annaluce's penthouse apartment.

"Are you joining me, Father?" asked Annaluce.

"You know it's my favourite location. There isn't anything quite like the view from your rooftop and nothing would give me greater pleasure, but, unfortunately, I have a council meeting. I hate mixing business with pleasure but this meeting is one I can't avoid. Planet Earth is proving problematic; I won't bore you with the details."

"The crowds are particularly large tonight. The holograms look spectacular; it should be an exciting event," said Annaluce, trying not to show her disappointment that her father had once again snubbed her invitation.

"The Games seem more popular than ever. Looks as if there's a record number of 'Death Baiters' on the wall," said Daxzus, glancing at the great wall surrounding the city. "If I have any time after the meeting, I will try to get across," a feigned promise designed to pacify his daughter's obvious disappointment.

The craft docked in the designated parking bay situated on the floor beneath Annaluce's rooftop garden. The door lowered and she left. Her father was so heavily occupied in business, which he cared not to share with his daughter, that she was never quite sure how long it would be before he would spare her any of his precious time. At the moment, though, she had a party to host, so she would not ponder too much about the absence of her father.

Daxzus left in haste; he had some problems to address; issues he could not divulge.

The 'Death Bait' game was a sport which had developed since the erection of the Great Walls. Contempt for the less  privileged outside the city walls turned to hate. Considered animals, it took only a few years for the sport to evolve. Watching the squalors outside the walls became an obsession.

With access to personalised 'solo boards', so called because of the shape of these streamlined flight craft, city-dwellers could reach any part of the planet. The floating cities became the must-have residence for the privileged. The cities allowed escape from claustrophobic life in the capital, the opportunity to breathe fresh air and marvel at the spectacular views, at extortionate cost. If you were lucky enough to own a dwelling near the prison islands, then the spectacle of watching the tortures through the high-powered viewing lenses provided extra spice to the trip. If you were prepared to pay, then tortures would be 'on demand', with viewing available to suit your evening plans.

It was natural to capitalise on the squalor outside the walls for entertainment, thus Death Bait was born. The rules were simple: a player from the capital, equipped with flight board with added weight-bearing capacity, would cruise over the squalors' area beyond the wall with bait. Bait was in the form of food - a prize a squalor couldn't resist. The trick was to bag a squalor. The bait encouraged the squalors to jump to try to dislodge the bag of food while 'Death Baiters' fired sharp arrows, complete with strong twine, at the target from the underbelly of their flight suit.

Upon impact, the arrow would expand to a claw to grip its victim. A clean hit was a hook to the cranium, allowing a clean catch. The weight of the 'catch' required skill to navigate. The game involved carrying the catch and then releasing it to hit a target; valuable points were awarded for a direct hit of the target. The danger was if the 'grab' went wrong: to miss the squalor could result in the 'squalor reverse grab', where a part of  your flight board is caught by a squalor, destabilising the Baiter.

To fall victim to the squalor is certain death and extra food. A grotesque way to perish.

If the player makes the 'Death Bait', the term for catching a squalor, a number of targets around the capital were in play, each target a certain death for the squalor, if not already killed by the crushing impact of the arrow. Other targets ranged from pits of fire to huge spikes towering 30 feet high. A near-miss might mean the squalor hitting the force field; colourful, but scoring fewer points.

At any point during the game, as many as 100 players could fancy their chances.

Death Bait was a sensation.

However, the real must-watch sport as a spinoff was Alien Bait. Once the alien is released from the killing chamber via vacuum suction, it is immediately rendered unconscious, due to the g-forces. Once through the tunnel - ranging 2-5 miles in length - the victim's velocity is lowered before being ejected into the waiting crowd of squalors. A victim ejected a mere 20 feet into the air had a good chance of surviving the impact.

Bets were taken on likely outcomes: would the alien die on impact? How far would the alien run before capture? Which of the seven aliens ejected would die first? and so on. Caligula, the Roman Emperor renowned for his obscene cruelty, was a saint by comparison.

Their only hope was that they did not survive the impact of the ejection.
**CHAPTER 6**

**AREA 51 THE CONFERENCE**

This was not the choice of the Russian President, nor the French, nor the Japanese. Whilst it was the obvious choice because Area 51 already held alien craft, this meeting was an inconvenience for all but the American President.

The conference was the epitome of forced collusion; none of the delegates felt truly comfortable. A world first, which negated international protocol. The very existence of our planet was at stake. Pleasantries were not on the agenda - only a solution.

The organisation required the world's most powerful individuals to fly in to Area 51, but it proved challenging. The insurance premium to cover the risk alone was in excess of the UK's national debt.

A makeshift boardroom was promptly put together. Area 51 was a military base, not a Presidential suite, but every effort was made to accommodate these most distinguished guests. Personnel on the camp were nervous, apprehensive, akin to a class of primary school children expected to stage a production of _Macbeth_ , 'Out of their comfort zone' was an understatement. The secrets of the base were almost insignificant.

Complicated schedules had to be rearranged, a matter that would inevitably draw the attention of the press sooner or later. A sick note wouldn't do. A sophisticated smoke screen to disguise the meeting had to be co-ordinated. Was it convincing? Nobody was sure, but the risk was too great not to attend.

Less than 48 hours after the return of those abducted, we were faced with the stark reality that an alien race was looking to cause carnage; the potential annihilation of our species was on the cards. The bravado and chest-beating amongst the delegates was obvious. This was going to be a challenge, but the outcome was not in doubt: we were going to be triumphant.

In the boardroom, the delegates sat in a manner which would ease tensions: the Russian President at one end of the table; the President of the United States opposite. By and large, the European heads of state sat close: the UK next to the French, the German next to the Italian, and so on; the rest placed in the hope of amicable, resolute acceptance.

The risk of a catastrophe had not gone without consideration - gathering the world's elite could be an opportunity for sabotage. The military protection was on an unprecedented scale; all delegates were armed with bulletproof vests and heavily armed guards escorted each individual from the helicopter to the base. Delegates arrived separately - an obvious decision to guarantee the utmost security. Snipers were strategically set around the base, armed with bazookas and A5s (the Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifle). The Russians flew in their own insurgents with the obligatory Kalashnikovs, aerial reconnaissance was heightened, not that Area 51 wasn't already suitably equipped, but extra vigilance was needed. What the base would do in the case of a co-ordinated assault from a super-intelligent civilisation left a lot to be desired, but every effort was being made nevertheless.

How many alien craft were housed at Area 51 was a closely guarded secret, but a dozen or so was thought to be a fair estimate. The Russians had intelligence - nothing much on planet Earth was a surprise to them. With an impressive arsenal of nuclear power, virtually none of which had been decommissioned, including Satan 2 - an alleged nuclear weapon capable of annihilating a country the size of France (if only the French counterpart was aware, he would be even more uncomfortable) - along with an array of satellite hardware, nothing escaped their notice. America had similar sophisticated surveillance capabilities, although their firepower might be deficient against that of the Russians.

Thirteen was the official figure for captured alien craft at Area 51, but this wouldn't be disclosed in the minutes of the meeting. Alien craft were already known to the two most powerful nations on Earth; the rest of the world was left to speculate. It wasn't the captured alien craft that focused the attention - generally no threat was made when an alien craft was captured following a crash - rather, it was the abduction of the seven individuals.

James Eaton had gathered as much information as possible from the Undarthian craft to give a well-documented brief. Scott McCabe, who was used to addressing an audience far in excess of the delegates in the boardroom, was on hand to help put a presentation together with James. Scott the salesman, James the technical expert. Both agreed they should consult the other abductees.

James, Scott and the other five had a conference of their own. They had been abducted. They knew the threat. Their powers were enhanced, personalities were changed immeasurably as a result of their journey, but each had an important role to play. This was not a gathering of random individuals, more a  reflection of the change needed to rid our planet of inadequate elitism, the establishment. They were the one hope to convince the world leaders to act against this imminent threat.

The Zaagans had armed James with the technology to decipher the Undarthians' plan. James had stuck to the task. Downloading the data from the spacecraft had revealed the alien strategy, which was well co-ordinated.

James and Scott, with help from the others, perfected a presentation. They assessed the plan and then fine-tuned it. A vote was taken on those who could most aptly portray the plot. Predictably, James and Scott were chosen. The others were to attend the conference for moral support; the Q & A session might invite their participation.

With the stage set, the most important meeting in human history was about to take place. James, Scott and the others entered the boardroom, the tension evident amongst the delegates, anticipating the news yet to unfold.

Scott addressed the delegates:

"My name is Scott McCabe. You have been briefed on 'the abduction', I believe. The document in front of you outlines the salient points. Traumatic, yes; exhilarating, yes; life-changing, ofcourse. But we are not here to discuss the abduction. We are here to discuss the consequences."

James couldn't help thinking that Scott may not yet have shed the temptation to preach. This was a sermon, so James needed to bring the presentation back on track. He interrupted. "Thank you, Scott. Now to the task in hand," he said, rising to the occasion.

At the front of the boardroom, behind James and Scott, was the projector screen.

"Having gathered extensive data from the captured spacecraft here at Area 51 - a confirmed Undarthian warship - we have presented a brief overview."

The delegates' attention was assured.

James continued as the digital presentation now showed a world map littered with dots. "The targets are the red dots you see on the map, the major capitals of the world."

Sighs, groans from delegates, shoulders sagging with the weight of what was about to be revealed; the delegates almost didn't want to hear.

"The plan is to first destabilise our financial services and stock markets, then destroy personal data worldwide, effectively rendering our wealth redundant, no recognition of who any individual is, their net worth, their ID, driving licence, all the things which make our society function." James was steadfast in his delivery.

"Next, you will see a map identifying all our nuclear armament, aircraft, submarines, chemical weapons plants - you name it, they have located it. Worldwide. They intend to take control of all our weaponry."

The Russians were aghast. This was accurate. No one else knew the extent of their nuclear power outside the Kremlin, but James had nailed it.

"Total anarchy is expected in every major capital. Control of our firepower to use against us," James didn't flinch. "The next phase is the 'Sweep-up'. Annihilating us will be easy once they have control of our firepower. After that comes the final 'Clean-up', using alien robots immune to nuclear fallout."

All were stunned. A few minutes elapsed as James and Scott sensed the anxiety.

"Questions?" asked Scott, the salesman delivery now reduced to the dump. The enormity now taking hold was sobering.

The President of the United States opened up: "How did you decipher this, James?"

"Simple: alien technology we were provided with. Zaagans are our ancestors, Mr President. We have all wondered about the missing link from Neanderthal to human; well, the answer is Zaagan intervention through DNA impregnation. They want to protect our species. After all, we are their off spring."

The Russian interpreter spoke: "Why Earth? Why interfere with our species?"

"The universe is teeming with life. Intelligent life can be wiped out by various means: a catastrophe like a meteor; a species might wipe themselves out through conflict or be exterminated by another alien race. The universe needs to be propagated to both protect and infuse new, intelligent life. Otherwise, the universe doesn't exist. With no intelligent life to observe our universe, there is no universe." James's appraisal made sense, in a warped way.

"Do you have any good news?" asked the British Prime Minister, on cue, to try to add a positive slant.

"Yes," said James, to the relief of the delegates. "We know where the Undarthian bases are on Earth."

The presentation now displayed a global map.

"As you can see, they have two bases: one deep in the Amazon Jungle (the co-ordinates highlighted on the screen); the other in Antarctica (again, co-ordinates indicated)." James paused before the next announcement. "However, they do have another access point." He paused again before delivering the last bombshell: "Via a portal at CERN." James was quiet whilst the information sank in.

"Not possible," said the US President. "Surely we would know if there was a damn portal."

Calmly, and without hesitation, Scott McCabe, an American, corrected the President: "No, Sir, Mr President, I don't believe you would."

James continued: "If you care to look at the footage on the screen, you'll see a strange, circular cloud formation above CERN. This is the portal anomaly, passed off as natural cloud formation. Not only the Undarthians, Mr President, but other alien entities have access to Earth via this portal. Zaagans can and will close this portal for our safety. We are messing with dangerous shit at CERN. Sorry for the language," James said, back to his rebellious nature.

The Russian interpreter again: "Do we know when the attack is likely?"

"Imminent, Mr President."
**CHAPTER 7**

**THE COUNTER PLAN**

The meeting in Nevada at Area 51 on 19th February had raised more questions than answers. The world's most powerful individuals had a chance to evaluate the presentation; a copy was sent by email. It was informative and convincing, but there needed to be a contingency plan.

A thought crossed the minds of both the American and Russian presidents, knowing espionage was getting more devious with advances in technology. No one could doubt the impressiveness of the abduction, nor the intelligence gathered from the Undarthian craft, but there was always doubt. Was this some kind of staged hoax to gain world superiority? The advent of 'Project Blue Beam' was well documented, so elaborate hoaxing was possible.

Project Blue Beam can, allegedly, create a hologram equally as impressive as the abduction. Lifelike holograms that you can touch and feel are no longer a pipe dream, if the conspiracies are to be believed. In fact, the suspicion is that this project might fake an alien invasion to gain civilian control. Could the abduction be an extension of that? Further proof was needed. On the other hand, none of the world leaders could take that risk.

The US President was the first to call in his advisors to discuss a contingency plan. At the meeting were his trusted personal secretary, Jillian Tousant (to record the meeting), the Attorney General, Wayne Straddler, the Secretary of Defense, Julian Argyle-Phillips, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Eric Miller.

The President opened his address:

"Gentlemen, and Jillian, of course," a rare acknowledgement with a welcoming smile to boot. "You all know about the meeting at Area 51, this alleged alien invasion as a result of the abduction in Rome," said the President.

Nods all around the room, other than the President's personal secretary who, sticking to old habits, was transcribing the notes of the meeting in short hand and never looked up.

"Well, something stinks. You have all seen the presentation." Nods all around again. "What the hell are the Russians up to? Their nuclear capabilities could extinguish not only our planet but the damn aliens, too! I need to know that this isn't a Russian plan, or Chinese for that matter, to destabilise our military. What do we know and how can we best protect our position?"

The President looked around the room for anyone who might remotely look like they could deliver a plausible response.

"Suggest we use NASA, Mr President," said Julian. "Way I see it, we have the same intelligence on the Russians as they have on us. Nothing suggests foul play. I agree their nuclear arsenal is more than we expected, but we have good intelligence, Mr President; it's not a shock. But here's my worry: what if ET is hitting us on the blind side, distract us first, then attack? If these portals are real, the Russians aren't our problem. NASA needs to keep an eye on a possible attack from space. Also, CERN while they are at it." Julian even impressed himself at his forthrightness.

"Good point. Any other suggestions?" said the President, again scouring the room for the next enlightened response.

"That's a great point, Julian. Seems like you've covered all angles. I mean, we constantly monitor the Russians. It seems more likely that it might be ET we should be sceptical about. On the subject of ET, has a certain Mr James Eaton introduced us yet? I mean, what do these freaks look like? Are they green, blue, what?" said Eric, to fits of laughter which eased the tension.

"Rainbow coloured, by all accounts," said the President, now joining in the humour. "Seriously, we need to put in a contingency, but you are right - we should be introduced to these so-called 'ancestors' of ours. Apparently, Daxzus is our man - sorry, alien." The laughter erupted again. "Best get me NASA on the phone," was the remark ensuring a more political tone.

The Russians, far more stern about potential international threats, also set up a meeting. Their conference was more rigid but covered the same scenarios. They even reached the same conclusions. Keep an eye on their counterpart, the Americans, insist on an introduction to the aliens and, in the meantime, monitor space for a possible attack.

*************************

Edmund William Nelson was Head of Administration at the NASA headquarters in Washington. The call from the Oval Office did not come as a surprise to Edmund in light of the recent events in Rome. The Attorney General made the call to request that he and his Deputy attend an immediate meeting with the President on a matter of the utmost importance.

It was a pretty informal meeting. Edmund and his Deputy Administrator, Sebastian Johnson, made their way to meet the President in the Oval Office, accompanied by the obligatory  FBI agent. Security was very tight at the White House and, once the formalities and verification were out of the way, they were escorted to the Office.

The President gave both gentlemen a warm welcome.

"Edmund," said the President, shaking his hand firmly, "and Sebastian," another firm hand shake. "Thank you for coming over at such short notice."

"Of course, Mr President. Happy to oblige," replied Edmund. "How can we help?"

"You will both be aware, no doubt, of the events in St Peter's Square, Rome, recently."

"Absolutely, Mr President," replied both, almost in unison, a little nervously.

"We believe that there may be a plan to attack Earth from an alien source. Clearly this is a highly confidential matter at the moment and one which we do not want to see raise public fear. We are currently liaising with key international leaders to ensure that any attempt to attack is thwarted. We need extensive aerial surveillance."

"So, let me just clarify the situation. We could be under attack from aliens?" asked Sebastian.

"As far fetched as that might seem, unfortunately, that is what we believe. We are going to have to use our satellites where possible to watch every inch of the immediate space outside our atmosphere, as well as deep space. I trust you can give me a live feed, gentlemen, and keep this matter private?" said the President, not expecting an objection.

"Sure, Mr President," said Edmund.

"You will have direct contact with my Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Attorney General and the Secretary of Defense at all times. I'll get my secretary to sort you both a secure line before you get back to your offices."

Meeting over.

Both men came away from the meeting as if they simply couldn't take in what had just taken place. The President had informed them that this operation must be kept secret, except for a few key people at NASA, and that they had to set a decoy as to why they we were suddenly monitoring Earth so vigilantly.

As they drove back to the headquarters, there was an eerie silence until Sebastian broke it, saying: "Don't know how the hell we are going to pull this off."

"Exactly my thoughts, Seb. This is all just unbelievable. I mean, 'War of the Worlds' or what?" said Edmund.

"Spot on. War of the Worlds!"

With that they both continued on their journey, contemplating the task ahead. A daunting prospect.

************************

NASA Headquarters continued its daily function, oblivious to the potential perils ahead. It was a well-oiled machine and not only observed the immediate space surrounding Earth, but also the most distant stars and galaxies via the larger telescopes.

Edmund and Sebastian's first task was to identify chosen personnel who could be trusted with the immense task without being exposed. The NASA organisation had a precision timetable which was almost impossible to interrupt. Projects were taking place all the time, as were arranged visits to their headquarters. Astronomers, physicists, military personnel and, ofcourse, astronauts were amongst many to frequent NASA daily. To interrupt a schedule set in stone, to try to scupper an alien attack, not least with the added pressure of completing the task undetected as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, was a real challenge.

Both men had direct access to the various satellite images constantly monitoring activity around Earth's orbit, being streamed live on various social media outlets, so it wasn't too difficult to filter a live stream to the Oval Office. They needed at least one of the larger telescopes decommissioned from its current operation in order to monitor deeper space in our solar system.

A plan was hatched and the live stream set up to the Oval Office. The surveillance was set up as instructed by the President.
**CHAPTER 8**

**THE RESCUE**

James Eaton awoke from a deep sleep. He felt groggy and was trying to get his bearings; he didn't recognise his surroundings. His eyes opened slowly and he began to focus. What was that in front of him? Some kind of Perspex shield? Thoughts ran through his mind at lightning speed. He vaguely remembered the meeting in St Peter's Square, Rome, involving some other individuals, six from recollection, then his mind went blank.

He wanted to rub his eyes, to stretch a little, but he couldn't move. He was strapped into something, but it was all confusing. As his eyes took focus, he could see a screen of some kind, but it was a blur. It looked like a television screen. James became disturbed; had he been involved in an accident? Was he strapped to a hospital bed for his own good? Surely he would see evidence of a nurse, perhaps a doctor.

There was no doctor, no nurse. He was upright and strapped in a chamber, unable to move. As his focus sharpened, he saw many chambers. The only movement possible was his eyes, darting from side to side. He panicked and looked left, then right, sharply, trying to get a fix on anything. With his mind working overtime, he closed his eyes for a second, hoping that once he re-opened them the picture would be  different. "Calm down," he said to himself. "There has to be a rational explanation."

This time when he opened his eyes he could see the large screen in front of him, pictures of what looked like Earth, some strange hieroglyphs, computer data - he certainly knew data when he saw it. He looked left and saw a chamber about a metre or so from the contraption he found himself helplessly strapped into. He recognised the girl, though it took a while to remember. Bella Laurent - it was Bella. What the hell was she doing confined to a chamber? James decided, although he almost didn't want to know, to venture his eyes to the right. He instantly recognised Scott McCabe; he remembered his profile from the app. What the hell was going on?

Scott McCabe was looking back. James could see the horror in his eyes, the same horror that was staring straight back at Scott. James frowned as if to say, 'Where are we?' and Scott began to move his mouth, slowly mouthing some words. James concentrated and, slowly but surely, he fathomed the message Scott was repeatedly saying: "We are all going to die!"

James looked left again and the same look was in Bella's eyes, with one difference: she had tears. _Damn it_ , thought James, this was all a trap. He looked opposite and saw other equally desperate individuals. They were looking at their screens in front of them. They looked human, but then again didn't. Where was he? What was going to happen?

James decided that panicking wasn't going to help. _Pause for a second, take stock of your surroundings and try to work out a solution._ James looked up. There was a maze of poles and he could see chambers being moved from the other end of this vast expanse. Drones of some kind were moving along at what appeared to be about 20 metres apart. These drones weren't like anything James recognised - they were very advanced and the  whole area looked like a scene from _Star Wars_. He could see that panic had set in with Scott: he was putting up a struggle and clearly screaming something, but James could hear no sound. "We are not going to die," James said to himself with a sense of defiance.

Suddenly, he saw a commotion at the other end of the expanse. Drones disappeared and, though he couldn't hear any sound, it was clear that there was crossfire. Laser type.

He looked in front of his chamber, and staring back was a huge figure. More importantly, the figure was free. He looked human with long hair and beads. _Was this the end?_ thought James. The individual with beads was joined by maybe six or eight other huge, heavy muscle-type beings. Each had exactly the same outfit; clearly military type, but like nothing any human would wear. The material was thick and black, resembling the material knights of old wore underneath their battle armour. Each carried a weapon, black and formidable. Three of the individuals were carrying a machine of some sort, a kind of huge bracket resembling a clamp.

The figure looking back at James made a circle with his thumb and forefinger that spelt 'A okay'. The relief was instant, then the panic set in as the scene unfolded. The drones were preoccupied with something, but there was a feeling that time was very much of the essence.

The clamp was placed on the outer rim of the chamber which imprisoned James. A laser beam was emitted and the clamp encircled the perimeter, cutting into the chamber, slicing it open like a can opener. James could smell the burning. Those next to him were getting the same treatment. Within a few seconds, heavy-duty suckers were slammed on the front of the Perspex-type cover of the chamber and it was pulled away. A wall of sound suddenly hit James like a sledgehammer; it was pandemonium.

A message was shouted at James. He understood the message, but it resembled computerised speech. The message was: _Follow me, we are getting out of here!_ The others had clearly been given the same message and everyone ran, hastily following their rescuers.

Lying on the floor about 50 metres away were several drones, lifeless, motionless. They had been tampered with. A device, clearly advanced, brought the drones to life, activated them and took control. A gesture was made to James and the others. James didn't need to think twice and obliged - a piggyback would get them out of there. Their only chance of survival was to obey these guys.

The drones were designed to carry weight, able to move chambers around the warehouse at will, if needed, so they could take the weight of the rescuer and the rescued. The drones obviously primed, the two handles driven into the top of the drone a testament to the fact. The drones were instantly live, moving forward along a huge warehouse space around five metres high. Suddenly, a few laser shots, the rescuers fired back, their accuracy perfection; drones fell like confetti.

James was frantically looking around, exhilarated at this rescue operation. Suddenly, a stray shot must have hit a chamber. He looked down. A female - he wasn't sure if she was human - had been released and was freeing herself from her shackles in panic. James, with a flashback of the horror he had found himself in only minutes earlier, pointed below. His rescuer looked towards the alien being, now aimlessly running away from the chamber. His drone dived like a kingfisher towards the alien, his rescuer lowered his hand and she grabbed it, desperately. Within seconds, they were in full flight. She had been saved, at least temporarily.

The captured drones approached the exit, a doorway opened automatically as it was programmed to do.

"Force field!" shouted Scott.

"In a line!" commanded Dane, who was leading the rescue operation. Dane Vhastek was an Undarthian, a warrior of the highest calibre, standing at least 2 metres tall.

The hijacked drones slowed down whilst the force field adjusted.

The drones following, gathering speed behind them, were hostile.

The force field deactivated, as it should, the seven drones exiting programmed for refuelling. They were through the force field, but their attackers were closing in. A shot, a hit. Scott McCabe. He screamed.

The force field reactivated. The drones following behind fizzled as they hit the force field. The allotted seven for refuelling fooled the field.

_Heroes_ , James thought. Whoever these guys were, 'hero' was the only fitting description.

The drones stopped around 500 metres away from the warehouse. The land was barren and reminded James of the pictures from Mars sent back by the Rover space probe.

A spacecraft awaited. It was a military-looking craft on three tiers. As they approached, a door opened beneath the ship. The seven aliens carrying those who had been rescued from the killing chambers dismounted, zapped the drones, decommissioning them immediately; they fell to the ground like acorns. The ramp lowered and the aliens, the seven humans, including an injured Scott McCabe and an unknown female alien, ran up the ramp, which was closing slowly.

In front of the craft was a blue halo, which appeared to be about twice the diameter of the alien craft. It looked to James like a portal.

They were inside and safe, but for how long was anyone's guess.

************************

In the Oval Office, the President stood and gazed forlornly out of the window. The stars and stripes standing proudly in the corners of the room, the desk cluttered with important documents either to read or sign. There was a sublime quiet.

The weather was stunning, the gardens looked serene and the President couldn't help thinking how life before his election had been so much simpler. He wasn't sure whether knowing the truth about world events, the constant threats that faced such a great country as the USA, was a good thing. He would enjoy blissful ignorance at this point in time. He thought about the great presidents of the past: Lincoln, Kennedy, Eisenhower and whether he could achieve a fraction of what these great men had accomplished.

It seemed inevitable that the existence of aliens would become common knowledge, they already knew they existed and the public suspected, but why did this have to happen on his watch?

There was just something unsettling, something the President couldn't quite put his finger on. The decisions he would have to make in the coming days would either make him look a buffoon, if the aliens were a hoax, or hail him a hero of the modern era, if they were real. There was only one condition: that they win the battle.

His daydreaming was cut short by a knock on the door; his personal secretary entered the room.

"I know you asked not to be disturbed, Mr President, but I have Edmund Nelson from NASA on the line. He is very insistent that he talk with you as a matter of urgency.

"Thank you, Jillian. I will take that call."

Edmund was put through and the President, following his quiet ponder at the window, was hoping for good news.

"Mr President, we have located something. We have been looking into deep space and have managed to decommission one of our larger telescopes - alleged repairs as far as anyone is concerned. Nobody suspects. Three objects have come into view," said Edmund.

"What are they? Can you live-stream the pictures?" asked the President.

"Not sure about live feed, might draw attention, Mr President, but we have some close-up shots. I'll forward them by secure email. They appear to be alien craft of some kind. Rather odd, though, as they are in a perfect triangular formation, each about a million miles from Earth."

The email came through instantly. The President recognised the craft; they had one at Area 51 from which James Eaton extracted the alien plan. The President thanked Edmund for the information, congratulating him on a job well done. He now knew the truth: the Undarthians must be preparing to attack.

************************

James took in every inch of the Undarthian spacecraft. He thought _cool_ , but in this instance 'cool' really did mean 'cool'. Only days earlier he had argued with his father about going to Rome. Now he found himself in an alien craft, presumably on an alien planet. Everyone was seated in what resembled bucket seats, a Lamborghini seemed an appropriate seating resemblance to James. The instant you sat in the seat, you were immediately harnessed in, securely, around the shoulders, midriff and legs. In front, a screen. James looked intently as the screen displayed data, nothing which remotely resembled human language, just hieroglyphics. A graphic of a planet appeared on the screen, indicating their current location, in red. Next to the planet on display was a tube, getting thinner in the  middle, larger again at the opposite of the spectrum, resembling a wormhole. Another planet appeared at the other end of the tube. The planet was Earth.

_My God! We are going through a wormhole_ , thought James. The blue halo in front of the ship immediately made sense. Then, a loud bang followed by intense shuddering, which lasted about five minutes, followed by another huge bang, which steadied the craft. The visual of Earth indicated that their location was at the pole.

The alien at the front of the craft had released his harness, which clearly the visitors had not yet mastered, and made his way towards James. Scott was in agony: he had received a shot to the right thigh which was emitting blood rapidly; another alien was administering a jab to his neck, which immediately rendered Scott unconscious, free from pain.

The alien - James now knew for sure that this was an alien - was wearing a helmet, a protective helmet a skateboarder might wear, but way more sophisticated. A thin bar covered the alien's mouth, clearing it by only a few inches, running from one side of the helmet to the other. The bar on the helmet lit up, blue. The alien handed James one, indicating he should wear it.

The alien formed words which the helmet bar translated into a language, the blue light of the helmet bar flickering in sync with the words. James could understand. The sound was computerised but clear. James looked around at his human counterparts. He looked at Bella Laurent, in tears again, but this time tears of joy; Scott was in a coma; Kosuke, Demitri, Patrick and Sophia were busily looking around the craft, trying to take it all in. They were all safe.

He looked in the direction of the alien they had rescued. For the time being, at least, she was resting. She had been given the same jab to the neck as Scott.

"James, my name in Dane Vhastek. I am Undarthian. Do not be afraid. We have a lot to explain."

_Damn right_ , thought James, angrily, but this alien had saved them all from certain death. A million questions went through his head, but right now he just wanted confirmation that they were home. He looked the alien up and down; he eclipsed James in height and had a muscle mass any heavyweight boxer would envy. The alien looked human, wasn't ugly, but had a rugged face and hair down his back to his hips. Noticeably, his hair was beaded - the jet black beads an obvious feature. He looked every inch a warrior but, surprisingly, James didn't fear him.

"Where are we?"

"Earth. Antarctica," was the welcome reply. "We rescued you from a planet called Zarduzian, occupied by an alien civilisation called the Zaagans, who are planning to take control of your planet," said Dane, ominously.

"What were those chambers we were in?"

"Killing chambers," which immediately resonated with James. "You have all been cloned to perfection, including your memories, voices, accents, likes and dislikes. Everything. Zaagans are using the cloned versions of you to deceive your people, by sending them to Earth as an illusion of your safe return from the abduction. We got to the killing chambers just in time, at any moment you would have been disposed of." Dane fell short of explaining how they would have been disposed of; now wasn't the time to delve into the plight of the planet's squalors.

James couldn't comprehend it.

"We are going to take you to our base," said Dane. "Don't worry, you will be safe, but we have little time. The Zaagans are convincing your leaders that we are the enemy, your clones will be giving a credible argument. We have a plan, though."

The rest of the gang were released from their harnesses and the Undarthians led the humans out of the craft. Both Scott and the rescued alien were carried out of the craft by one of Dane's comrades.

The spacecraft was inside a holding bay, the blue halo still hovering in front of this magnificent ship. The bay was huge and had been expertly carved out of the ice. The temperature wasn't cold - around room temperature. They were led through a series of tunnels, which opened up into a vast space about the size of a football field. Undarthians covered the place, all busy analysing data from transparent screens, hologram images everywhere. The holograms, like images on smartphones, could be zoomed in and out of but, unlike smartphones, without using hands, just thoughts. Bella was intrigued: this was her second home, yet she had no idea what lay beneath the ice. The cave was spectacular.

The holograms had complex diagrams of strange alien craft, complicated drawings, maps, different worlds. This was NASA thousands of years from now. At the end of the open space was a large screen, about 10 metres high by 20 wide. Sections of holograms could be picked out by hand and thrown at the screen. The data would instantly integrate - a magnificent spectacle to behold.

Dane led the seven to a smaller room, a seated area with yet more transparent screens, hieroglyphics dominating.

They were invited to sit.

A plan was laid out and each had a part to play.
**CHAPTER 9**

**SUSPICIOUS MINDS**

Hank Richards was an ardent Elvis fan. His father, Lonnie, had been a huge fan of Mr Presley, even saw him live in Vegas back in 1972 at the Hilton Hotel. Hank often debated with his father about 'the king' and whether his _Comeback Special_ in 1968 or _Aloha from Hawaii_ concert in 1973 was his greatest performance. Lonnie argued _Aloha_ on the basis of the audience size. As the first ever live satellite performance worldwide to over 40 countries, it had in excess of 1.5 billion viewers. It had to be _Aloha_. For Hank, it was undoubtedly the _Comeback Special_. Elvis in his prime and at his best.

Hank argued with his comrades on the base at Area 51 that he had a look of Elvis. The reply was always, "Yeah, Costello!" which always drew a laugh or two.

_Suspicious Minds_ , arguably Presley's biggest hit, aptly summed up Hank's state of mind right now. There was just something not right, everything about the seven was just a little too convenient, almost staged.

The seven were given their own digs, computers, phones and all the creature comforts they needed, at least until the alien threat was dealt with. Yet nobody, to Hank's knowledge, had asked to call home. Perhaps their ordeal had taken its toll.  Perhaps they didn't want to get into a discussion about why they were being held at Area 51. All plausible, but still a little odd.

James Eaton was puzzling him the most; it was the way he handled himself on the ship. Hank had watched with astonishment at the ease with which James found his way around the ship. He saw him identify the Undarthian craft and was truly awestruck at the way the ship's graphics appeared on James's phone. He saw how James turned the graphics around, a full 360-degree turn, zooming in on the floor plan, identifying the mechanics of the craft, where the lasers were for combat and their capacity to destroy, the layout of the cockpit and so on. It was the comment he made about the incubators on the middle section and the 'induced hypothermic state for long journeys' that got Hank suspicious. Exactly where did it state that on the alien app?

Hank decided to do some digging.

Hank's office at Area 51 wasn't anything special, but it gave him all he needed to carry out his duties. A moderate desk, complete with high-tech computers and a couple of casual chairs with a table for the odd one-to-one disciplinary. Hank had a decent post as Head of Security, but he was looking for a more challenging position. James Eaton had given him that platform, and he intended to use it.

He sat at his desk nonchalantly, pulled up a search engine on his screen and typed in 'incident Rome 15th February 2018 tabloids'. A whole host of entries came up - well over 200,000 - this was the most covered story on the Net. He scrolled the newspaper articles, too many to read in the time Hank had spare, but there were a few interesting headlines. He was particularly interested in photographs of their return from abduction, as well as any individual photographs of the seven that the press might have bought from family members and used in articles.  Hank had a little chuckle at some the headlines. _The Magnificent Seven Return_ or _Say Hello and Wave Goodbye_ , based on the hit by Marc Almond, to describe the military in Rome, whisking off those abducted once they returned. It was the headline _Alien vs Military Abduction - Out of the Flying Pan?_ posted by the _New York Herald_ , which struck a chord. If only they knew just how close to the truth that was.

Hank trawled through the articles and came across an interesting post by _The_ Scotsman, a Scottish tabloid. It covered James Eaton who, as an Edinburgh University student, was of particular interest. The article itself wasn't important to Hank, but the photograph was. The image had a footnote: _James Eaton - School Yearbook 2015_. There, on James's neck, just above the collar, was a mole, and a rather large mole at that. Hank couldn't remember whether James, stationed at the base, had a mole. James had been kitted out in some makeshift army gear for the inventory of the spacecraft, so it was possible that he could have missed it.

Hank strolled down the many corridors at Area 51 - the base was huge and the military personnel alone topped 5,000. The digs where the seven slept were at the other end of the base, so Hank had to meander through the various hangars. He never quite tired of seeing the alien craft. He desperately wanted to be commissioned to explore one of them and hoped that Mr Eaton might be leverage. He reached the dormitory where the seven guests usually hung out, but James was absent. Patrick and Bella both turned around when Hank walked in, the others deep into some new-fangled music, eyes shut and seemingly enjoying the noise, which baffled Hank.

"Anyone seen James?" asked Hank.

"In his room. Think he's deciphering the plan on his computer," replied Patrick.

Hank knocked on the door and James welcomed him in.

James was wearing a dark T-shirt, sitting at his computer facing sideways, but the wrong way for Hank to spot the mole. His computer had up on screen the alien data which James had uploaded from his phone. James was engrossed.

"Can I help you, Hank?" asked James.

"Yeah, I need to report an update to the Oval Office. I know we've already sent the bullet points of the attack, but I was just wondering if there was anything we missed."

James turned around at this point to relay that there was nothing more to add. There it was, plain as day, a mole-free, unblemished neck. Had James Eaton's mole been surgically removed then the skin on his neck would have left a slight scar and the area where the mole had been should have been slightly pinker in colour. Hank had a mole removed from his right arm some years ago, so he knew how the skin should look post operation.

"Thanks, James. Sorry to disturb you," Hank added before leaving. "You had a chance to contact home yet?"

"No, too busy with this at the moment."

Absolute proof, as far as Hank was concerned, that the authenticity of this James Eaton was in question.

Hank made his way back to his office and mulled over his findings. Could it be that the aliens somehow cleared all seven of any imperfections whilst they were away? _Possible_ , Hank thought, but highly unlikely. He couldn't exactly go marching into James's room and ask, "Right, are you the real James Eaton or what?" The thought occurred that confiding in someone else might cause ridicule, so he snubbed that idea.

He pondered for a moment. If he wants to stay a security guard, then he reports his finding; if he wants a future, he needs to stay quiet. Unfortunately for Hank, his wife suffering  terminal cancer meant a future of uncertainty for him and his two young children: Mark aged seven and Melissa aged just five. This needed serious thought and, when all said and done, he could be wrong about his suspicions. _Still_ , Hank thought, _it 's now or never_, before chuckling to himself that an Elvis hit again profoundly described his feelings.

Hank would mull it over for a while before deciding what action to take.
**CHAPTER 10**

**THE MISSIONS**

Mission 1: The Kidnap

The ship was waiting in the holding room, deep beneath a layer of Antarctic permafrost. The halo, which Dane confirmed was a portal, glowed translucent blue.

Mission 1 involved James, Kosuke and the rescued alien from the killing chamber, with two other Undarthians. It would be challenging and dangerous, but necessary.

They were to visit Zarduzian, for the second time, to kidnap a very important Zaagan: Daxzus's favourite and beloved daughter, Annaluce.

All had been fully briefed and the ship was ready. Dane assured James that it had performed hundreds of successful portal missions, borne out by the jet-black beads in his hair. James had learnt that white beads, which most of the Undarthians wore in their hair, were awarded for ten battle kills, black beads, 100 kills. Dane only had black beads running from the centre top of his head to his hip.

All the passengers were suitably harnessed into their seats, by now much more familiar with the routine. The enormous bang, followed by the shudder, another loud bang and James knew that they had arrived. The ship had been set to arrive about  a mile or so outside the city walls of the capital, Larquiston, arguably the most influential of the 37 capitals on Zarduzian. This was where Daxzus, the mastermind behind the plot to sabotage Earth, lived.

The capital city was awe-inspiring, the huge walls protected a city of great beauty and opulence. The buildings towered skywards, glistening; the ingenuity of the Zaagans was there for all to see.

The first obstacle: the squalors. The squalors lived a tortured existence, both food and clothing were scarce. The seething heat of the midday sun was intolerable. The mission would fail if they landed during daylight, so the craft touched down safely just after dusk. The ship had landed deep in one of the planet's tropical growth areas. The capitals may be well manicured, but outside the Great Walls the tropics ran wild. Trees over 300ft high, the ground covered with overgrown, deadly plants, wild and strange creatures hungry for food would savage any being who dared to step foot in the region. Control of these monsters was non-existent; the creatures would feed on squalors at will. The ship would be at a safe distance from squalor attack, but that was no guarantee of complete safety.

The squalors, before the immense overpopulation of the planet and isolation from the capitals, once occupied reasonably well-equipped houses supplied with all the usual creature comforts. Once the walls were built and the force field shut them out, their need for supplies created panic, technological gadgets became bereft of power, the masts housing the power balls were abandoned; it became a free-for-all to squat in abandoned living quarters. Ghost towns, where the strong preyed on the weak.

The mission was well organised. On board were individual flying hovercraft called 'Cyclons' that could support two; must-have machines if they were to successfully navigate the city walls.  The machines, the size of a small motorcycle without wheels, came complete with full protective visor and laser weapons for good measure. This was a mission where the Undarthians reigned supreme, well versed; a mission Dane relished.

Elise was the name the rescued alien from the killing chambers had adopted. She had decided not to divulge her full identity, only to confirm that she originated from a planet called Corrolaxius, in a star system on the outer edge of our Milky Way, about 30 million light years from Earth; untrue, but enough to disguise her real identity. Despite the horror of the killing chamber, Elise was desperate to return to Zarduzian, for revenge.

She was the most beautiful creature James had set ever eyes on. Jet-black hair, long and curly, she stood about 1.7 metres tall, with golden olive skin. Being of fair skin and blond hair, James was likely to take a shine to her; he favoured dark-haired women, but it was Elise's incredible sea-green eyes that truly mesmerised him.

Trollozytes, like Undarthians, are very much humanoid in physical appearance, as was Elise. Dane knew of the Trollozytes, but for the sake of the mission kept his suspicions under wraps where Elise was concerned. Right now, they needed her. She knew the Zaagans well, knew the capital, and her beauty would fit in well, acting as a camouflage. Her telepathic abilities would also be useful. Instructions between Dane and Elise could be understood without a word spoken.

************************

Death Bait was, more often than not, played after dark, due to the searing heat. Night-vision visors gave the Zaagans an advantage; in return, the squalors would use their own light  beams to highlight the Death Baiters - hopefully, their next meal. The game would have upward of 50 players, ten in the field of play at any one time. The force field was automatically deactivated to allow the players onto the field of play and to allow a safe return following the battle. The walls, though, were heavily armed, in case squalors tried to take advantage of their drop-in security when the players swarmed the playing field. This was an opportunity for Dane to exploit.

The Games were in full flow; the opportunity obvious.

The entry blocks for the Death Baiters were spaced at 50 metres apart. At each end of the 'launch area', about 500 metres wide, huge light beams, 20 metres in diameter, lit up the battleground. The wall was also lined with laser weapons to dispel a riot, should one break out. Neither of these would be used to save a player from a brutal death if he was overcome by a squalor; those were the rules.

Dane's plan: dim the lights of their Cyclons, which were equipped with night-vision visors, then enter the capital via a martialled section of the Great Wall to coincide with the force field being inactive. Get it wrong and it would be fatal.

With the lights out, circling at around 100 metres high, they were unseen by the mass of squalors beneath. Their flight craft would be undetectable once the suppressors kicked in and the sound dampened. All personnel were dressed in camouflage suits, material designed to reflect some of their surroundings, rendering the wearer almost invisible.

Dane's passenger was Elise; James and Kosuke pillions to two other Undarthian warriors. Just for good measure, both James and Kosuke were armed. The Undarthians had developed guns with a 'stun' mode especially for such a covert operation. No sound emitted when they fired, but they would disable the opposition for up to an hour - the Undarthian equivalent of  a Taser. The guns could be converted to 'kill mode', if needed. Dane rarely used the stun mode.

Elise knew the capital, deciding for now to keep to herself the reason she knew the layout so well.

As they approached the Great Wall, the squalors in the fields below were making their way to the battleground. The need for food too great to be choosy, the Games offered an opportunity to eat. The maximum Zaagan death toll in one night of games was eight. The squalors had feasted well the previous night and were hoping for an even better haul tonight.

Dane navigated well and reached the wall undetected. A true warrior, a perfectionist. They waited behind the force field, eagerly awaiting it to be disengaged, temporarily, whilst the Death Baiters emerged, poised and ready to pounce.

The Games began with a roar of sound, the Death Baiters in full flow, swooping down on their prey. The force field relaxed. They were through. Travelling along the wall, their Cyclons rose to a height equal to the wall's summit. Over the wall and they were into the grounds of the capital. Their visors displayed a detailed graphic of the city, mapping out the streets, the buildings and, more importantly, Annaluce's dwelling. The target was already locked in, courtesy of insider information from Elise.

Night flights in the city were common: Zaagans were always travelling around the capital, as well as back and forth between the anti-gravity floating cities. Every Zaagan flight craft was different, so the Undarthians could mix in well and fly undetected. The attention of the Games was a useful distraction, as huge crowds inside the capital were watching a live feed of the Games; gigantic holograms displayed them around the capital. It was a sight to behold, if somewhat morbid. They couldn't have picked a better night for the kidnap.

Annaluce lived in a penthouse suite, the building one of the most sought-after real estate properties in Larquiston; the roof terrace boasting the most spectacular views of the city. The property had a twist to it, similar to a DNA strand upwards of 300 meres tall. The number of apartments was estimated to be 500, of which the penthouse, at the summit of the building, was the jewel. Access to and from each suite was via a personalised flight craft called 'the bubble'.

The bubble was situated outside the main room and access was only via retina recognition. Complete with touch-flight instruments, also initiated by retina recognition, it operated on the principle of anti-gravity, perfected by the Zaagans, and was the most popular mode of transport around the city.

Holidays to the floating cities, on the other hand, required flight machines, known as Venglagons. Parked in 'flight ports' located at intervals of every ten floors, seating up to ten passengers, a Venglagon could be summoned by voice from anywhere in the building. The machine would instantly locate the caller, move to the respective level and lock in to the nearest tunnel access port, separated at ten-metre intervals around each level of the building.

Any floating city above the capitals could be reached within minutes, even at distances of 500 kilometres. Venglagons moved at extraordinary speeds.

************************

The Death Bait Games drew big crowds. On the roof terrace, Annaluce and other distinguished Zaagans were holding a 'Games Fest'. A hologram of the event, thrust 30 metres high by 50 metres wide above the terrace, made prime viewing for this magnificent spectacle.

Zaagans traded on a galactic scale. Everything was for sale: exclusive planetary raw materials, new technology, intergalactic time-share, even interplanetary dating. Delegates from other planets would arrive for the Games via portal stations situated near the main square. Personalised arrangements were made, retina recognition pre-programmed for 'bubble' transportation, making travel to the Games Fest for other alien species a breeze.

Annaluce, oblivious to Dane's plan, had gathered together the finest delegates Larquiston could offer, with two special guests - one male and one female - from a planet called Vosmiri, a mere five light years from Zarduzian, to discuss an exchange of prime real estate. Dane had already intercepted their invitation and was ready.

Portals were operated like trains arriving at a platform; your arrival was pre-booked. Annaluce's guests were due at 9pm. The Games had started at 7pm, but the best Death Baiters weren't in play until 10pm. Demand for places was frantic and 9pm was the only slot available for her clients from Vosmiri. Being fashionably late guaranteed a far more interesting entrance to the party, so 9pm suited them fine.

James viewed the floor plan on his visor, typed in the precise co-ordinates to locate the bubble, which was destined for Annaluce's penthouse. It was stationary and waiting for the guests to arrive.

The portal activated on cue at 9pm. The visitors arrived. The designated bubble appeared on the visitors' hand-held device and provided the geomap, highlighting the route, just a short walk. The visitors walked about 20 metres. The stun gun had no problem disabling the couple, who were caught by James and Dane as they collapsed.

James and Elise had been equipped with adequate clothing for the Games Fest, hidden underneath their camouflage vests, all part of the briefing in Antarctica.

James took the hand-held device from the male alien, now comatose, carried the visitor on his shoulders and, with his eyelids suitably pinned back, used his retina for entry recognition. Access was approved and use of the flight instruments assured. James had no more use for the alien visitor, so he tossed him back to Dane for quiet disposal. Elise, not far behind, had watched impressively as her partner for the evening handled the operation with great ease. Both James and Elise entered the bubble and were soon on their way to the penthouse. Dane left to take flight on the Cyclon.

James was in his element; 'Bond' could be his surname. Elise was a little apprehensive.

Zarduzian translation helmets were more advanced than Dane's Undarthian one, sleeker and more stylish, the bar across the mouth a lot smaller. This allowed hassle-free speech between guests. These would act as a perfect disguise for the visitors' true origin. The helmets were already on board the bubble, so both James and Elise applied the headsets.

The bubble seamlessly docked with the penthouse automatically, impressively. They had arrived. James and Elise were escorted to the terrace by two Adonises; Annaluce was ready to greet them.

Dane parked the Cyclon in the flight portal area; all was going to plan.

************************

The cloned James Eaton took the call from the President in Hank's office. The cloned version of Scott McCabe sat on one of the comfy leather chairs.

The President opened with an appraisal of the position, from his Oval Office. Listening intently to the conversation  were Edmund, Wayne, Julian and Eric, his trusted advisors.

"We have brokered a deal with our counterparts, especially the Russian contingent. Your report suggests two targets: one in the Amazon; the other Antarctica, so we need to assign hardware to each target. Do we know the extent of the enemy's firepower?"

The clone knew the extent of the threat from the so-called enemy was non-existent, as this was a lie, their intent all along was to ensure that the threat was enough to warrant an attack, enough to see off Dane Vhastek. The plan was to utilise as much of the world's military force and armoury as possible, rendering the Undarthians to the status of sitting ducks, as far as the Zaagans were concerned.

"Mr President, the enemy is formidable. They are armed with laser weapons of the utmost precision; you must annihilate both targets with your first strike. I fear we won't get a second chance," said the cloned James, keeping his cool and replicating the authentic James impressively.

"Do the Undarthians know that Zaagans preside here?" the President probed.

"They will know, but Zaagans are a passive civilisation so they won't expect any interference." A clear lie: the Undarthians are the warrior race.

"Though their technology is deficient, their weapons are sinister. You don't want to give them the opportunity to use them."

"If they know about the Zaagans, surely they must be tracking our movements," said the President, probing further.

"All in hand, Mr President. The Zaagans, Daxzus Zaetsalsae, to be precise, will scramble their tracking signal prior to your attack. As I said, the Undarthian technology is a little deficient, allowing your military get in position, undetected."

"Very convenient," a sarcastic tone accompanied the comment. "Hank has asked you if there was anything you have missed in your plan and you answered 'no'. Is that still the case?"

"We have covered everything, Sir," the clone replied, confidently.

The President wanted to say, "What about the three spacecraft we have spotted in our solar system poised to strike?" but he decided not to play all his cards. He had given James ample opportunity to tell the truth, but he was becoming suspicious of these aliens.

"We haven't met this Zaagan character yet. Can you set up a meeting?"

"We might not have time, Mr President. We have days, not months," said the clone, now showing signs of frustration, unlike the real James.

"It's a pre-requisite, Mr Eaton. Arrange it!" With that, the call came to an abrupt end.

Hank looked on, wishing he had told the President about his suspicions when he'd had the chance. Too late now.

Once the President had hung up, he looked around the room of the Oval and posed the question:

"Well, your thoughts?"

Edmund was first to point out the obvious: "Why didn't he mention the three craft in space? He's supposed to be on the ball, in touch with ET, surely the Zaagan, Daxzus, would have rumbled the three craft."

Wayne chipped in: "Maybe they don't consider that enough of a threat. Let's face it: the three craft are a million miles out!"

Eric was next: "We do seem to have a genuine threat. The Russians are taking this seriously. Deploying our weaponry is expensive, Mr President, but we can't take any risks that these Undarthians aren't going to sabotage our financial markets  and hack into our nuclear capability. However, I would feel a lot happier hearing it from the horse's mouth." Due to the seriousness, Eric restrained the urge to correct himself with 'sorry, the alien's mouth'.

"Julian?" asked the President. "Set it up, but don't deploy. As far as this Daxzus character is concerned, we need to see the whites of this eyes - assuming, ofcourse, they are not green - before we take decisive action. We'll need to co-ordinate with the Russians, but set up 'Operation Freedom', ready to go in 48 hours. We will also need a conference call with all parties before we speak with ET."

"Got it, Mr President."

The meeting was over.

*************************

The terrace was full of delegates and guests, 60 at least. A vast space, exquisitely displaying food and drink of every kind, drink provided in expensive gold goblets, the food set out on long inlets on the terrace, around 3ft deep, filled with water, the food floating on water in sublime, individual bowls. Orders were taken by androids; the chosen dish would rise up in the pool on a gush of water, which the android would select and deliver. Clothing very much a fashion point, vibrant colours, the scantily dressed beauties parading was a spectacle to behold.

The hologram of the Games was in full view. Night-vision visors were being handed out, similar to virtual headsets, but for the ultimate close-up viewing, except zooming in on the target was controlled via thought rather than manual adjustment. The vantage point from the terrace was spectacular, the viewing visors giving a perfect focus on the Death Baiters, in order to savour each kill. A 'good game catch', as it was known, was  where the wearer of the visor captured a close-up of a kill and uploaded the scene to be shown in the main hologram on the terrace, in all its grotesque glory.

Annaluce was the perfect host, mingling effortlessly and eagerly anticipating her alien guests. She was a beauty of perfection, dressed in a gold tunic dress adorned with small jewels designed to form a planetary system, presumably to impress her prospective clients.

Exchanging interplanetary property was her domain; she had acquired around 50 properties over the years, buying astutely.

James and Elise were greeted by Annaluce. Now they just needed Kosuke and Dane to do their party trick. This could get very awkward once Annaluce suspected that they weren't the guests she had expected.

"Welcome," said Annaluce.

"Thank you," said James. "May I say what an impressive city you have? Looking forward to the Games."

"Let me get you both some food and drink," said Annaluce as she clapped her hands to requisition a drone.

"You look beautiful," said Elise.

"Why, thank you. I have to say, neither of you were as I expected. Much younger."

"Maybe we will let you into the secret after the Games," said James, in an attempt to divert her attention.

"Of course, the Games. We have specially reserved seats for you both if you would follow me this way," said Annaluce as she wandered to the vantage point.

************************

Elise, using her telepathic powers, had been given the number 100 in Antarctica by Dane as the signal to create a diversion.  Once he received the number telepathically, he would understand it as 'strike now'.

Kosuke sized up one of the hologram laser emitters on the penthouse, just below the roof terrace. Dane steadied his Cyclon; he had already initiated the suppressors to silence the craft. Kosuke's weapon, courtesy of Dane, homed in on the target with precision. He unleashed his first shot; a direct hit. One laser emitter shut down.

The distraction worked, the guests disorientated due to the distortion of the holographic image.

James grabbed Annaluce by the arm, not too violently, but enough for her to know that James was not to be messed with. He moved to within a few inches of her face and said, "Do as we say if you want to see your father again"; the helmet translated the message perfectly. Now that James had her attention, he gave her further instructions: "Call for your Venglagon!"

Kosuke locked in on a second target, disabling another laser emitter. More confusion.

James's next instruction: "Tell your guests to calm down, that you will get help to repair the hologram, then move to the pick-up point for the Venglagon."

The precise instructions took Annaluce by surprise, but the confidence James exuded demonstrated that he meant business.

Annaluce made her way to the back of the terrace and did what she was instructed to.

Within a few minutes, Annaluce, James and Elise were on their way back to the spacecraft, parked in the forest. James had the co-ordinates already loaded on his hand-held device. Annaluce entered them into the flight board of her Venglagon, as instructed.

Mission 2: The Switch

It was 1am, a mere five hours since the President called Hank's office. Area 51 was on night watch. Whilst the base was well guarded, their geographic position negated the need for more than six or eight watchmen. The base was pretty dark, most of the dormitory lights were out, other than an odd operative working late, burning the midnight oil, plus a few servicemen preparing for leave. They were taking the opportunity to play cards in the mess - not condoned, but not frowned upon either.

Hank was still considering the evidence regarding the authenticity of James Eaton. He was one of the few on the base still working well past the call of duty. Hank was at work on his computer, looking through even more press releases and now searching for any evidence that might bring James's compatriots into the frame.

Suddenly, there was a huge bang somewhere on the complex. Hank sat up, instantly logged out of his computer, through habit, and ran to unlock the door of his office to go outside and investigate. Lights were being switched on all over the complex to see if the base was under attack. Huge security lights lit up the grounds.

It was coming from one of the hangars storing an alien craft. Another huge blast. The spacecraft in question: Undarthian.

Hank, on a hunch, headed in the direction of the hangar the noise was coming from, ran through the maze of corridors, passing people, bemused and frantically dressing themselves for a quick exit from the danger.

"What the hell was that?" an officer shouted as Hank flew past him.

"One of the alien ships, I think," Hank replied, turning his head in the process to keep eye contact with the inquisitor as he brushed by the officer in question.

The noise increased. It was incessant.

Hank reached the hangar within minutes. The ship, Undarthian, was firing lasers at will. The hydraulic arms were holding this beast in place but buckling. The noise was deafening and the situation perilous.

Just behind Hank, James Eaton, Bella Laurent and Sophia Hernandez followed, accompanied by several military police.

Hank called James instantly. Clone or not, Hank knew that this individual was the only person qualified to bring the craft under control.

"James, get this mother under control!"

"On the case!"

James had his phone, typing instructions with real urgency into the alien app. The craft was still firing laser shots, trying to disengage itself from the hydraulic stranglehold. James was desperate to make something happen.

"Open! Open, you piece of shit! Open!" shouted James.

The doors to the underbelly of the craft opened. Access to the first level was beckoning. Both Hank and James instinctively ran towards the craft.

"You got this, James?" Hank shouted.

"Only if we can get to the top deck and I can access the on-board computer," replied James.

"Are their aliens on board?" asked Hank.

"No idea, but we've got to do something. You armed?"

"As always. Let's do this!"

By now the hangar was awash with military, engineers and scientists galore, looking on in trepidation.

James and Hank were moving through the freezer section, the second chamber, then up towards the cockpit, top level, the heart of the spacecraft. The computers were in overdrive. James  rushed to a vacant seat, Hank the seat next to him; there were no aliens on board.

A mile away, in the blackness of the Nevada Desert, away from the pandemonium at the base, a spacecraft awaited. No lights, but active and manned, ready for a quick exit.

The commotion in the hangar had everyone's attention. The military, now armed, were ready and waiting to take the ship down. Chaos broke out, more individuals were running out of their dormitories to see what the commotion was.

Outside, three silhouetted figures emerged from the dormitory of the seven. Three figures, each around two metres tall, all heavily muscular with hair down to their hips. One, in particular, with beaded hair; the beads all black. Each of the three carried a victim over its shoulders, obviously compromised and sleep induced.

The figures in the darkness ran between the barracks, carrying their victims, mounted their Cyclons and made their way to the ship in the desert: the Undarthian spaceship.

James synced his phone into the ship. The hieroglyphics were going into overdrive.

In a fit of panic, James shouted: "Come on, shut down! For Christ's sake, shut down!"

Hank and James were having a rough time in the ship, jostling all over the place.

"Harness yourself in, Hank!" shouted James.

"How the hell do I do that?"

"Press this screen, there, right-hand corner, looks like a Spirograph shape," said James.

Hank did as James suggested and the harness encapsulated Hank. At least if the ship released and went into orbit, Hank wouldn't be on the roof of the cockpit.

"Gotcha!" said James.

The ship steadied immediately, the controls slowed down, the seats on the perimeter of this level of the ship sank back into the floor. No more laser shots. The ship had been brought under control and there was huge applause from outside the ship.

Hank looked around at James sitting on the alien seat, sweating but with a huge grin on his young face.

"Like to shake your hand," said Hank.

James turned around in his seat and Hank immediately noticed. James had his mole back.
**CHAPTER 11**

**OPERATION FREEDOM**

The morning following the spacecraft's attempt to escape from the hangar left everyone at the base disorientated. Assessors were eagerly inspecting the damage: the hydraulics were a mess; the hangar's roof, now collapsing, was in a worse state. The talk on the campus was about nothing but the commotion in the early hours.

Hank had a directive from the President to ensure that Mr Eaton set up a meeting or at least a video conference with one Daxzus Zaetsalsae, the Zaagan, assisting Operation Freedom.

The seven in the dormitory were awoken at 6am, despite a late night, a habit the military found essential to maintain discipline. Following a hearty breakfast in the mess, they were summoned by Hank for a briefing.

Hank thought about the briefing and how he could send subliminal messages to the real James Eaton. How could he bring James up to speed discreetly?

Hank held the briefing in the Common Room, adopted by the seven. James was nervous, as were Bella and Sophia.

Hank opened the briefing.

"As you are all aware, Operation Freedom is scheduled to commence in 36 hours." He didn't need to state the obvious, but he figured James might need all the help he could get.

Another helpful suggestion followed: "James, you might like to go over the bullet points of the plan on your computer before calling Daxzus."

Thinking quickly, James followed his lead: "I already tried before breakfast, Hank, pre-empting this meeting, ofcourse, but my computer seems to be locked out. Could that be something to do with the commotion last night? Loss of power, maybe?"

Hank got the message loud and clear: he didn't know the clone's password.

"I'll get someone to look at that," said Hank. "Say, in the meantime, use the computer in my office; I've got a copy."

"Perfect," said James.

Scott McCabe, the clone, chipped in with: "Hank, I wouldn't mind going over the plan with James, if that's okay."

James eyeballed Hank. Both knew that this had scuppered an opportunity. Not to draw suspicion, they both agreed. In reality, James knew that the real Scott McCabe wouldn't be able to walk over to Hank's office, unless in a wheelchair.

James was going over the plan on Hank's computer. Trying to look as though you are skimming over text you should be familiar with wasn't easy. James got the main points of the plan. He tried to contain his anger at how Dane and his comrades were being set up by the Zaagans.

Thinking quickly, and to rid himself of Scott McCabe's insistence at looking over his shoulder at his every move, James made a suggestion.

"Say, Scott, why don't you go over the plan alone? You don't need me here for a revision. In any case, following the  interference last night, I should be checking the on-board computer of the spaceship. Make sure it hasn't been hacked."

Scott, the clone, had to allow the request, but James was now arousing suspicion.

"Hank, I'll need you for security."

"Be a pleasure," replied Hank.

James and Hank sat in the same two seats in the Undarthian craft as they had the previous night.

"You wanna tell me what's going on, James?" said Hank.

"Hank, look. This is getting crazier by the minute. I don't know who to trust," admitted James.

"If I told you that I know about your clone, would that help?" asked Hank.

Just then, a military officer entered the ship and shouted through: "Hank! Got the Big Cheese on the phone; you had better come quickly."

"Big Cheese?" asked James.

"The President," said Hank. "Okay, on my way."

"Look, Hank. Sophia and Bella are real. You gotta help me out here and you can't let on to anyone that we have been cloned - especially the US President. It'll complicate matters."

"I'll do my best, James," said Hank. "I have to work out who's real and who's cloned anyway, never mind trying to convince anyone else." He gave James a reassuring wink.

Just then, a text came through on his phone, that is to say, his clone's phone. It was Daxzus.

"Hell! It's Daxzus on the clone's phone, Hank."

"You gotta take that, James," said Hank.

James looked around to ensure nobody else was in the ship but him and Hank.

"Daxzus wants to know if I'm alone. His text is in English to keep up the pretence. Hank, what you witness now you must  not breathe a word of. Promise?" said James.

"You have my word!" replied Hank, emphatically.

Out of the small rucksack on his back, James pulled out the headset Dane had provided. It was set to translate English to the Zaagans' native tongue. Nervously, James donned the headset and rang Daxzus from the clone's phone. For the next three or four minutes, James conversed with Daxzus. Hank had no idea of the content of the conversation. He looked at James and thought how the real James was a major improvement on the fake.

The call ended and they both vacated the craft.

The Oval Office had the same personnel for the conference call with James as before. They needed some answers.

Hank took the call.

"Mr President, we are on an open phone. I have with me James Eaton and Scott McCabe," said Hank.

"Have you spoken with the Zaagan?" asked the President.

"Yes, just spoken with him a minute ago, Mr President," confirmed James.

"And?" There was no time for small talk.

"Daxzus wants a video conference between the Oval Office and his base in Antarctica. I will need to travel there. The video conference with Daxzus, once I am alongside him, will confirm the base's authenticity," said James. In reality, he feared being with Daxzus now that he knew his capabilities.

The President pondered and put the Oval Office phone on mute. "We okay with that suggestion? Can't see any fault myself."

"Can't we send someone with James?" asked Julian.

"We would like to send a representative with you, James."

"Daxzus predicted that you might request that. His concern is the identity of his base in Antarctica. A leak and the co-ordinates could get back to the Undarthians. Too risky if we fail to take them out completely," said James.

The President put them on mute again, looked around his team and they unanimously nodded in reluctant acceptance. Still, it left the President exposed if the Zaagans were not genuine, but it was a risk he had to take.

"Okay, James. When are you going?"

"I'll need to get to the Halley Research Centre, Bella's base in Antarctica. One last thing, Mr President. I managed to get agreement to take Bella with me. Insurance, in case anything happens to me. Hank's got her phone details. On the quiet, she might have an idea where their base is and relay the information back; it's her neck of the woods. I'll need your fastest transport." James couldn't believe he was asking the American President for a lift!

The President got his drift.

"Understood. Stealth plane good enough? At Mach 6 capability, you'll be there in a few hours. There's an 'ice run' close by. We'll get clearance." With that, the President hung up.

James handed Hank a piece of paper.

"Couple of things I might need, if you would you be so kind," said James, in a typically British way.

"No problem!" said Hank.

James gave Hank a wink. Hank knew exactly what it meant. It wasn't a list of items James needed; it was a message.
**CHAPTER 12**

**THE STING**

The Zaagans had chosen Antarctica for its obvious remoteness. Their underground complex deep beneath the ice harboured little in the way of military hardware; it wasn't required. The purpose was solely to monitor and influence an attack on the Undarthians; the humans had enough weaponry. Daxzus could smell victory. The video conference would be the final piece of the jigsaw.

The structure beneath the ice was testament to a race far exceeding humans in technological advances. A catacomb of caves intertwined. This complex was the same blueprint used on many planets, always at a planet's pole, always for the same purpose.

************************

The blue halo assured an instant and safe return back to Zarduzian, once the mission was complete.

James would arrive in a matter of hours. The stage would be set for another victory and Daxzus was eager to return to Zarduzian with the good news. Another acquisition to add to his already impressive haul.

Phase Two needed to be set in motion.

A boom in the portal chamber. A new arrival.

Daxzus sat in his chamber, the hub of the operation. A huge hologram of Earth hovering a couple of metres above ground level displayed every aspect of his masterplan: every key location highlighted, every weapon in our arsenal located with precise co-ordinates. Daxzus could clearly see the movement of stealth bombers, in real time, deployed to secure regions in both Antarctica and the Amazon. His masterplan was playing out before him like a symphony.

The visitor entered the chamber and was immediately accompanied by two of his own warriors. Daxzus didn't need to be introduced; Marrazeth's arrival had been expected.

************************

Trollozytes were galactic brokers and the Zaagans had done business on many occasions. This assignment was special: Earth had resources in great demand and both of these alien races had flouted intergalactic protocol to acquire the riches of the galaxy.

Marrazeth had been assigned to broker a deal. He had been sent by Oosapeth to gather the details of the operation and report back. Oosapeth, a military leader, who orchestrates interplanetary trading as well as fending off any hostile resistance, would send his second-in-command, Marrazeth, to deal with the negotiations prior to any operation.

Oosapeth is formidable, an alien of the utmost importance, originating from the planet Xenox

Trollozytes, Zaagans and Undarthians are 'human like' in form as are all super-intelligent, galactic beings within the universe. There are other creature formations - the cosmos is  abundant with life - but the human form is the universe's best attempt to create and breed intelligent life capable of observing and understanding its place galactically.

Trollozytes were smaller than Zaagans and significantly smaller than Undarthians.

Daxzus dressed in the standard Zaagan suit: a maroon, tight-fitting one-piece suit designed for comfort and protection. Fitted with full on-board software to monitor vital organs, induce nutrition and protect against adverse temperatures, it was the ultimate space suit. At the midriff, the on-board computer - a circular clear panel - allowed data to be uploaded to a mainframe for analysis and could, at a touch, interact with any hardware within the complex in Antarctica.

Marrazeth's suit was far more military like; enduring a wide range of planetary terrains called for a more practical garment. A grey suit, heavily padded at vital points around the elbow and knee area, built-in laser weapons on both thighs, similar to a gun holster but with voice recognition. In the midriff was a similar computer panel designed for military use. The panel could recognise danger and had 360-degree peripheral coverage. Just for good measure, two further weapons between the underside of the elbows and the hands would, upon command, thrust forward to form a hand-held weapon. Either 'stun mode' or 'kill mode' could be adopted with a verbal command, depending on the situation. Clearly not every alien race was as hospitable as the residents of Earth.

Both aliens wore their translation helmets.

"Looks like the operation is in full flow," came Marrazeth's opening line as he walked to greet Daxzus.

"We try."

Marrazeth sat and viewed the hologram.

"Resources!" shouted Daxzus, and the hologram's graphic changed to display in great detail all that the Earth had to offer. "The areas in green are as agreed?" quizzed Daxzus.

Marrazeth pointed his hand-held device at the hologram. It locked in the areas in green and was identical to the terms his master, Oosapeth, had demanded.

"Agreed," said Marrazeth. "Dane Vhastek?"

"A formality. Everything is in hand. The fallout operation?" enquired Daxzus.

"Pretty straightforward, all factored in. Your plans for the survivors?" asked Marrazeth, the conversation now becoming just a series of questions and answers.

"Undecided. If the numbers are small, we might use them as slave labour. If unmanageable, we might have to strike a deal," replied Daxzus.

"If it's planetary prisons, capacity is short, Daxzus. Too many planets wanting to rid themselves of their scourge. Thought you might consider them squalor meat," said Marrazeth, as he surveyed the intricacy of the Zaagan technology.

"As I said, undecided."

"Is the planet remaining or do you want it moving?" asked Marrazeth.

"The last planet you moved you screwed up. The portal you created wasn't big enough, the planet exploded - quite a spectacle! Surprised you even asked," said Daxzus, demonstrating he was keeping himself up to speed.

"Yeah, disaster. Cost us. We had a few issues but they're sorted," the salesman in Marrazeth evident.

"No. Earth is a real prize. Our overpopulation is a problem. Resources are short on Zarduzian. This will be our new home."

For the first time, Daxzus had revealed his real intentions.

"You cleared this with the Council of the Light, Daxzus? Rumour has it that Earth is an Undarthian propagation," said Marrazeth, in an attempt to draw Daxzus into a confession and also to demonstrate that he also kept himself up to speed.

"They beat us to it, but we did induce our own DNA on one separate occasion. Humans have a part-Zaagan footprint. Don't think it's in doubt; we both have a claim. The Council of the Light will confirm it," said Daxzus. In truth, this was the same ploy he always used, and Marrazeth knew it.

"They're still Undarthian, even with your small footprint. Anyway, who cares, so long as we get our resources. It's your problem. What kind of military assistance are you needing?" asked Marrazeth, now back on track.

"Depends whether the humans succeed. Once they have locked in to the sites at Antarctica and the Amazon, it's going to trigger a retaliation."

"They have three ships patrolling their solar system. They have used a portal entry and could use it again. Undarthian backup will be instant if they need it. Have you factored that in?" asked Marrazeth, as the question-and-answer game continued.

"That's if they are up for the battle," said Daxzus.

"Dane Vhastek doesn't run."

"He'll be out of the picture by then," said Daxzus, reassuringly.

"Suggest we take out the three patrol ships. You take out the two sites; I'll send reinforcements for the clean-up. Let us know what you want to do with the human fallout. Do you a deal to move them?"

"Let me consider that kind offer and get back to you. Is Oosapeth here to see the kill?" asked Daxzus.

"Should be, but he's not been the same since his daughter was taken."

Silence.

Marrazeth left.

************************

Hank had seen James and Bella safely off the base. The stealth aircraft would arrive in Antarctica within hours. The piece of paper James had slipped to Hank was crumpled up safely in his trouser-leg pocket.

Hank debated whether to notify anyone about his suspicions regarding the validity of the seven abductees at the base. It all sounded a little too far fetched. In any case, the position was now profoundly different with the emergence of the authentic James. The instruction on the piece of paper could be critical and Hank needed to read it, alone.

Hank made his way back to his office; the base still recovering from the attack in the hangar the previous night. The talk on the base was that the ship had been accessed remotely in order to try to recover it. The blueprint for the Undarthian plan was embedded in the computer systems on the ship, so it was pretty obvious why they needed it back.

Hank arrived at his office and locked the door behind him. He pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket and gently unravelled it. He sat down at his desk, the computer disguising the piece of paper from any would-be onlookers. He lay the paper on the keyboard.

The instructions read:

_All is not as it seems. Go to my room, look in bedside cabinet, third drawer down. Take out the device, check the_ _screen for further instructions. Tell no one. I 'm trusting you, Hank._

The note was signed off, _James_.

************************

The stealth aircraft touched down in Antarctica at an undisclosed ice runway. James had received co-ordinates on his phone of a location, courtesy of Daxzus. The geomap displayed the flight path of the stealth; the red pins indicated the pick-up point.

James could see the designated spot clearly. Two machines resembling jet-skis hovered silently above the ice. Each machine was manned. One pilot, one pillion space on each machine.

The stealth pilots were instructed to dismount and verify that the cargo had arrived safely. James and Bella handed their phones to the pilot under strict instruction from Daxzus; he did not wish the Zaagan location in Antarctica to be compromised. Security of this operation was paramount.

"Message from the President, James," said Jack Spalling, the stealth pilot. "Go get 'em! We have faith in you, buddy!"

"Thanks, Jack," replied James as he handed over the phones. He had to admit that the stealth bombers looked magnificent on the ice, out of this world in ordinary circumstances. James wondered what technology was in store as he turned around to glance at the alien transport.

"You take care now, Bella. See you back here soon," said Jack as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Merci," said Bella, blushing a little. Jack was a handsome guy.

The pilots watched as the two walked towards the awaiting Zaagan taxi. As they approached, one of the Zaagans dismounted his machine. James and Bella were ordered to stand, arms out to their sides. A small device body-scanned  both for detection of any sign which might cause a threat to try to pinpoint the Zaagan hideout. They were clean, so they re-mounted the machine.

The machine, white and sleek, complete with full visor and full body harness to secure pilot and pillion, sped off at an immense speed. Whether it was due to nerves or just habit, James was chewing gum. His coolness oozed. His interrogators never questioned the gum.

As they approached the hideout, Bella tried to map out the landscape, curious as to how an alien race could disguise a base beneath the ice. The exercise was futile. Both machines slowed down and hovered above a spot on the ice. The ice beneath them appeared to distort. The distortion revealed an entrance, a deep hole in the ice, hundreds of feet deep; the distortion an alien mirage to disguise the entrance. Once they lowered into the tunnel, the mirage re-appeared above them and re-created the illusion of a perfect icy surface. You would never stumble across this entrance unless you knew the exact location.

The machine, now controlled remotely, was led through a long tunnel into a loading bay. They had arrived.

Dane received the co-ordinates immediately the ice machines stabilised in the ice cave.
**CHAPTER 13**

**THE CLOSE**

The instructions were to await a secure link, sent via email. Each of the world's leaders received the link via their private email accounts, simultaneously. A picture emerged. James Eaton, Bella Laurent and Daxzus appeared on their computer screens. Daxzus was wearing his 'translator headset'.

The headset was universal and, once it received an incoming message, would decipher and translate the language. Thousands of different intelligent species' languages had been stored with the Council of the Light and, as a galactic member, you could access the software and download it. It made a useful and essential tool for intergalactic trading. The headset designs differed, but the principle was identical.

Hieroglyphics, in a similar vein, were used as the accepted generic communication amongst intelligent beings.

The stage was set.

In Antarctica, the three could view each of the world leaders on a large screen. The video conference facility had already been organised. English was selected as the common language. Daxzus's translator would detect the language accordingly and the non-English-speaking leaders either spoke in broken English or had an interpreter.

The hologram of Earth was diminished for the conference call. The chamber, sculpted to perfection in the ice, was the stage Daxzus needed to close the deal.

Operation Freedom was ready to be set in motion.

James opened the meeting.

"Welcome!" This drew a muffled response from the leaders. "I am joined by Bella Laurent and Daxzus Zaetsalsae."

Those viewing looked on in awe for a moment. An alien being who looked human with perfectly chiselled features, ready to address world leaders to derail a plan by another alien race to capture Earth. Surreal.

"We have many questions, Daxzus. May I address you as Daxzus?" asked the American President.

"You may, Mr President," a rather alarming but reassuring remark, graciously received. Daxzus's voice was compromised by the translator but decipherable. Just.

"Why the abduction?" It was an obvious opening question.

"Unbridled attention. A public alert. It is done this way," said Daxzus, aspiringly, managing to conceal the minor detail of his appraisal method. It was done this way only by Zaagans.

"As superior beings, why don't you deal with this threat on our behalf?"

Daxzus couldn't divulge that the Council of the Light would forbid it and their licence to trade across the galaxy would be revoked. His stare remained constant, unfaltering; he had traded these same uncomfortable questions with many alien leaders who harboured these same concerns.

"There are three spaceships patrolling your solar system. They are Undarthian and a clear indication of their aggression. If we attack, they retaliate. Lawfully, we would be seen as the aggressor. Backup forces would be inevitable and a long, intense  battle would ensue. There would be few survivors." He paused whilst the committee of leaders contemplated his dilemma.

"We have a footprint in your development as an intelligent race; Undarthians do not." A downright lie, James and Bella remained steadfast and silent.

"On the other hand, an attack from your people would invite little resistance. With no footprint, the Council of the Light would punish the Undarthians, if they acted, let's say, inappropriately. They cannot wipe out your civilisation. The Council's patrols would cordon off their planet, restrictions would be placed on their trade and heavy sanctions imposed. They will not take that risk. They will lick their wounds and move on to another planet."

"What is a 'footprint'?" asked the British Prime Minister, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"Propagation. A footprint is the enhancement of a planet's primate species to assist in the development of intelligent life. The basic principle that ensures the survival of intelligent beings throughout the universe. We have a footprint. It's important and affords you protection." Daxzus's interpretation was crystal clear, sensational to the humans trying to absorb the enormity of the concept.

"Then why do they bother?" This time, the Russian interpreter stepped up to the plate.

"If Earth is seen to be destroyed by its own civilisation, then it is fair game to a claim. They are setting up an illusion. It will appear that you have destroyed yourselves. You have seen the blueprint. They will make their claim to the Council," explained Daxzus.

_All very convenient_ , thought James.

"The dynamics are difficult. For our forces to unleash a nuclear attack on two sites, both in Antarctica and the Amazon, would cause global disaster. Do we know the dimensions of  their hideouts so we can restrict the collateral damage?" asked the French President.

Daxzus sensed the willingness to limit resources, but that wasn't part of the strategy; he needed a total wipe-out.

"If you fail with your first strike, then the retaliation will be brutal as they look to exit."

America and Russia had agreed to tunnel-bomb the target, to paralyse the enemy. Limited nuclear power would then complete the operation. The threat to civilian life the concern, less so with Antarctica, but the Amazon target is closer to civilian life, not to mention the natural habitat.

"Do you have a graphic layout of the two hideouts? We need to calculate the extent of military hardware we will need," said the American President.

James seized his opportunity.

"Will a 3D graphic suffice?"

"Perfect."

"I'll send it through via secure link," James looked at Daxzus for approval. He nodded.

"We will use our own thermal imaging to verify the target," said the President, this time addressing the world leaders. "Is everyone in agreement with Operation Freedom?" Affirmative across the board. "The operation commences in 12 hours. We will need to liaise securely." Their agreement was unanimous.

The conference drew to a close. The screens emptied.

"I'll need to piggyback onto your network to send the graphics of the locations. If you have satellite access, I can forward the visuals to individual cell phones," said James, turning to Daxzus now the video conference had drawn to a close.

Daxzus turned around to one of his operatives. This time in his native tongue, he insisted that James be set up for access, but monitored.

The conference screen was now blank in the Oval Office, as it was for the other world leaders. The President received a message from an unknown caller. Only a handful of people knew his personal phone number, all of whom were contact-listed. The President read the message. He closed the message and immediately called NASA.
**CHAPTER 14**

**XENOX**

Xenox was a planet at the very edge of the Milky Way, 46 million light years from Earth, positioned, like Zarduzian, in the Goldilocks Zone, and inhabited by a people of the highest intelligence. Advancement in understanding the principle of solar control (to obtain energy directly from their host star) placed this civilisation in a prime, pivotal, galactic position.

A people who choose to live and perish, yet immeasurably more advanced than Zaagans, who had jettisoned higher advancement in their quest for eternal life.

Galactic, intelligent civilisations are categorised. Humans at level one, reaching the first stage of accreditation to understand their place in the universe, achieve basic space exploration, attain computer intelligence and to facilitate effective communication; Zaagans at level two have conquered portal travel, telepathy and eradicated life-threatening medical conditions; the Xenox civilisation, on the other hand, is at level three: able to harness the energy of a star and on the verge of interdimensional travel, in addition to the abilities of levels one and two.

A breakthrough had catapulted this civilisation above all others, even other level three-accredited races, through their ability to expand portals.

A portal is a tear in the fabric of matter which temporarily distorts the universe. The portal reduces the universe's mass, size and shape, thus extending the distance travelled through a portal. Imagine flattening a festive paper chain, pulling it out and stretching it a great distance. So it is with a portal. When the paper chain is flattened, it is a short distance from the opposite end, the destination, yet you travel the distance of the fully extended paper chain.

To be able to expand the entrance size of a portal, to move objects as large as planets anywhere in the universe, is almost God like. This civilisation is God like.

The Xenox civilisation, Trollozyte; their Commander-in-Chief, Oosapeth.

Oosapeth looked around the room. A sleek dwelling, minimalistic yet exceptional. The technology on a level incomprehensible to man. There are no screens, no conventional media or entertainment outlets remotely resembling either a television or a computer. Nothing.

Thought control was the only tool needed to control the environment. The room has minute sensors, littered throughout the occupied space, awaiting thought transference initiation.

This room was his work space. Situated in a magnificent complex, around 12,000 square feet, this was a building befitting of an individual of the utmost importance. A building on one level, translucent, built of an unbreakable material, 'Brintex', a type of granite-based transparent building brick. Each module of the house built on a moveable platform, to rearrange the building at will, to suit the need, by thought alone.

His thought triggered a sensor and a 3D graphic of planet Earth appeared in the centre of the room. His next thought was Dane's two hideouts, which were immediately displayed. He considered Dane for a moment, a being he had confronted many  times. Undarthians were a race who had neither succumbed to greed nor to a desire to prolong life indefinitely. Dane was a warrior, a being of principle, who Daxzus had to destroy.

The next image was the graphics of Earth's resources promised by Daxzus as the trade-off - substantial resources, much sought after. He considered Daxzus's plan to migrate to Earth and thought of the squalors on Zarduzian, the self-righteous in the 37 capitals. All of it repulsed him.

Oosapeth had never fully trusted Daxzus. Did he have the 'footprint' on human development to pacify the Council of the Light of his claim to Earth? Was the trade-off worth the risk? Earth was the jewel in the crown and he wanted a stake, but at what cost?

His thoughts wandered to his precious daughter and his eyes moistened. She appeared in the hologram, looking angelic. Long, dark locks, deep-green eyes, to him absolutely beautiful.

Trollozytes had abandoned designer off spring many thousands of years ago, at the same time cloning was outlawed. Perfect beings became an ugly conundrum, no uniqueness. Serenix, of his four daughters, was his favourite, the youngest and a warrior prepared to fight for the cause.

Her first assignment should have been straightforward: Serenix was to join six others, three highly skilled technicians and three military personnel in a task to recover a ship which had not returned from an expedition to the planet Trentaquin. Assuming a basic malfunction of some kind, as this planet did not harbour intelligent life, it would be a perfect introduction to galactic navigation.

The portal transportation to Trentaquin was successful, but when the seven did not return, Oosapeth followed. The spot where the ship had faltered was empty, as was the ship sent to recover it. He checked the co-ordinates again to be sure; there was no mistake: both ships should have been there.

No sign of the spaceships, no sign of his daughter, no clues as to what had happened.

Oosapeth tried to put the thought of Serenix out of his mind. He was expected to be in Antarctica to assist the demise of Dane Vhastek. He touched a sensor in the solar plexus region and a signal was sent to the other end of the building. He had summoned Marrazeth.

Marrazeth immediately sensed an uneasiness.

"Yes, Sir?" said Marrazeth as he walked through the sensor-operated door, which closed swiftly behind him and locked. He stood there, all 1.93 metres, adorned in a white one-piece suit, adequately equipped with a sophisticated computer panel in his midriff. He wasn't handsome, displaying a few battle scars, particularly a long scar down his right cheek - the result of a stray laser shot. Medical advances were able to conceal it, but Marrazeth preferred the reminder of his escapades to his adversaries.

"I will be there for the kill," said Oosapeth, still fixed on the image of Serenix which he was having difficulty putting out of his mind. He was merely going through the motions, he was obligated to, but his main concern was his daughter.

"I will make arrangements. Have you seen the graphics outlining the plan?" asked Marrazeth.

"Dane is predictable. This should be pretty straightforward, even for humans. They should annihilate both sites without our help," said Oosapeth, abruptly. He paused for a moment, then continued: "Was the Trentaquin Report inconclusive?"

Oosapeth stared as the graphics of the incident involving Serenix came to life on the screen. The picture showed a barren land, the empty space where the ships should have been. He was looking to Marrazeth for his thoughts.

"Affirmative," said Marrazeth, choosing not to be drawn into a debate on this delicate subject.

"Our disabled ship was never recovered. No evidence of a struggle. This looks like a planned operation. We had the 'portal expansion coding' embedded in that ship's computers. If this gets into the wrong hands, it is devastating. The engineers we sent knew the coding. With the ship and the engineers also missing, it looks like a trap. I need you to isolate the threat. I need to know who set this up. Understand?"

Marrazeth knew exactly what 'understand' meant: trouble, if they didn't get answers.

Oosapeth waved Marrazeth away. He left with a heavy heart; Serenix was his favourite of Oosapeth's daughters, too.

************************

Dane Vhastek had received the location of the Zaagans' hideout in Antarctica, courtesy of James Eaton, whose clone was safely imprisoned, as were the cloned versions of Sophia and Bella. He had sectioned Annaluce separately.

The gum, which Dane had induced with a micro-receptor, located the Zaagan ice cave. If James could manage to access the mainframe, then Dane would soon have a graphic of their plan.

Dane chose to dress in his usual combat wear, now zero hour was approaching. Daxzus was the most grotesque of aliens he had encountered. A coward, who would always couple with a more formidable alien civilisation to complete his conquests. It usually involved a trade-off, blood money. An alien with no morals, who had sailed close to the wind with the Galactic Council on many occasions.

Dane's hideout was practical. The 'War Room', as it was known, was a graphic battlefield, setting out the field of play, the war game. Spacecraft locations were highlighted, specification of speed, firepower, size, fleet numbers, all were displayed,  calculated. Complex battle plans played out, simulations of battle, strategies on how to beat an opponent, were all ingrained in this magnificent software. Dane, the master tactician, was formidable.

Daxzus traded with the Trollozytes often: he needed the threat of their 'portal amplifier', a real worry for any opponent; the Trollozytes needed the resources on offer to supply the huge bank of planets they had to provide for.

Daxzus would trade anything for the portal amplifier; he despised the cost of a trade-off. In his eyes, he did all the hard work, located the planets of interest, set up the plan to rid the planet of its host civilisation, only to forfeit a huge chunk of the prize. In truth, though, Daxzus was a leach who fed unceremoniously on the plight of other civilisations.

Dane sat in front of the gigantic transparent screen in the War Room. At a touch, he could move images around the screen, highlight specific areas in graphic detail, convert floor plan designs to 3D imagery. The software could play out a multitude of permutations on the battlefield. Portals were identified which might import backup fleets of spacecraft. The war arena included his three watchdog spacecraft, already deep in the solar system, which he would need. Dane was the master warlord, not by choice, but necessity, to rid the universe of undesirables.

Dane looked closely at the screen. Incoming data. James must be in the mainframe in Antarctica. The graphic of the Zaagans' hideout the first import of data. When opened, it displayed the floor plan in full. More data was being imported. The outline of the Zaagan plan was emerging. Suddenly, the data ceased.

Something was wrong.
**CHAPTER 15**

**AMBUSHED**

Three spaceships, three crews.

The objective: to protect the space around Earth in triangular formation - a universally recognised strategy.

The three ships were Undarthian, identical to the ship at Area 51, all three crews just biding time until Dane Vhastek gave an order. Their exact position was identified on the graphics at Dane's base in Antarctica.

Dane checked in occasionally with the crews, if only to break the monotony.

One Undarthian in each ship would keep vigil in the cockpit capsule, top deck, via a rota system. Most warriors on board were either sleep induced on the middle deck or gathered on the bottom deck eating or relaxing.

The radar system on board each ship could spot an alien object before it got within 100,000 kilometres. This mission was long, laborious, tedious; this was not the battleground the warriors longed for.

Dane studied the war plan. Convinced that James had been rumbled by Daxzus, he considered his options. Does he wait? Could it be that James was interrupted and needed to abort? He might see the final data if James got a second crack.

Suddenly, three small dots appeared on the screen, heading towards his three ships in outer space. Travelling at incredible speed, they were only a few thousand kilometres away, relatively close, appearing out of nowhere.

Dane instantly homed in. The dots, when expanded, revealed eight craft in formation heading towards each ship. An ambush! Dane locked in on an image of one of the incoming craft of the aggressors. His software indicated that the craft was an unknown source. This was neither Daxzus nor Oosapeth.

Zoozu of Solex 1: the first commander to make contact with base.

Dane's screen read:

_Incoming, not recognised._

He replied:

_Try to make contact. Warn off._

Zoozu responded:

_Tried. No response. Assume hostile._

Dane checked the screen. Radar readings showed an alarming development: the arrow formation of these intruding ships was now splitting. This was an attack, and a well-calculated one.

_Destabilise the foe, send electromagnetic warning!_ was Dane's order to Zoozu.

Each Undarthian ship's crew had moved into battle mode; those warriors sleep induced automatically alerted by the ship's on-board computer.

A pulse of electromagnetic energy was fired from all three Undarthian ships, the first stage of defence against a possible attack. The crew, now harnessed in, were constantly checking  dataflow on their screens. The ships' sensors were activated, situated at the front and rear of the main hull, as well as above and below, for maximum peripheral coverage.

Dane looked anxiously at the screen, now awash with data from all three ships. In each graphic, the location of the aggressors was clear to see through on-board radar imaging relayed back to Dane. The incoming spacecraft were devising a strategic formation designed to disorientate. Dane had seen this tactic countless times.

The magnetic pulse, designed to disable enemy computers, thrust out from the three ships; a circular wave of magnetic field radiated and would hit the incoming threat. Each of the 24 craft instantly emitted a counter-shield, a force-repellent screen surrounding their craft. The magnetic pulse deflected effortlessly.

Dane sent a message:

_Activate defence force field. Enemy attack imminent._

Force fields engaged, the ships' crews braced for an attack. The ships' gravity simulators activated to stabilise the crew on board. Two of the Undarthian ships were hit immediately with aggressive fire; the force field held but the turbulence was disorientating. The third ship increased speed to normal velocity 30 (around 100 kilometres an hour) to shake off the attack. It worked for a few seconds, but the incoming craft were quicker: Boom! They were also hit, and hard.

Dane switched to voice mode only and initiated hologram simulation at his base.

"Solex 1: got you on simulation," barked Dane. "Exit portal 5,000 units at 92.6 degrees. Accelerate to mid-velocity 50. Try to shake them off. Reactivate electromagnetic pulse mechanism and re-issue."

"Solex 2: Copy 1; repeat: copy 1." Dane had all three on holographic.

"Solex 3: Go to automatic mode." Dane had control via the simulator. "Solex 1: Copy; Solex 2: Copy," all three under Dane's control.

"Plasma fog emission," a plasma cloud, "now move to velocity 70, activate on-board g-force stabilisers," Dane almost addressing the crew as NASA might during an Apollo flight.

The hologram showed the portal exit in space, estimated between 8 and 13 minutes away (shown as travel units), a long time to ward off a hostile attack. The plasma cloud continually emitted a blue hue to block the attackers' ability to lock in on their target. Fading rapidly, leaving a comet-like trail, this action did not deter the aggressor.

"All craft, scatter fire, 360 degrees!" ordered Dane.

The alien craft, like drones, were everywhere, and the intensity increased. Solex 1, hit by multiple fire, deflected the shots, but his force shield was compromised.

"Force shield down! Force shield down!" Zoozu repeated. "Fire in mid-section. Cryogenic leakage, shutting down mid-section." Zoozu's graphic of Solex 1 showed damage to the hull, mid-section inactive, portal exit 3,506 travel units. "There are just too many craft, Dane. They're everywhere."

The dataflow indicated 'failure' for Solex 1 to reach the escape portal in time. Flashing in red, the message said 'jettison mid and lower sections'. With cryogenic leakage emitting liquid nitrogen and helium, the crew on the lower level were trapped.

Dane, the warrior elite, had to make the call.

"Zoozu, jettison mid and lower. An order!"

"But Dane, I can make it," as another laser shot hit the mid-section.

"An order, Zoozu!" Dane's computer prediction was that the cockpit capsule, courtesy of its own booster engines, could reach the exit portal if Zoozu engaged velocity 150, the maximum speed, then jettisoned the mid and lower sections. Another hit, the ship rocked again, a gaping hole now in the mid-section. Three more hits to the lower section, alarm lights staring up at Zoozu, on-board graphics indicating terminal damage; there was no choice. Zoozu ejected the sections, executing his men in the bargain.

Solex 2 and 3, also with 'failure' stipulated, required jettisons.

"Solex 2 and 3, issue an order for the crew at lower level to move to the capsule. Once safely evacuated, jettison mid and lower!" insisted Dane.

The sweat on Dane's brow oozing, clenched fist pressed against his mouth, muttering under his breath. This was as tense as Dane had known. Who was this enemy?

Solex 3 was missing from the graphic. A casualty. Solex 2 had jettisoned. Zoozu, now only 1,236 units to a safe portal. The attack was relentless.

Solex 2 perished. A gruesome attack which compromised the protection shield. The capsule burst into flames and exploded. The only consolation was that death was instant for the eight-man crew.

Zoozu had been luckier. He had hit three of the pursuing craft. His speed, as fast as the assassins' now that he had offloaded, yet he was still 323 units from the exit portal. Dane muttered under his breath, "Beat the bastard!" Just 272 units and Zoozu could see the portal clearly. A blue halo, he was almost through. Boom! Another hit: this time to the engine booster, a devastating hit. Boom! Another to the capsule visor, sparks blocked his vision but he was so close. Boom! A massive  jolt of the ship. He could see two alien craft ahead of him - 173 units, almost there.

Boom! He disappeared from the screen and Dane screamed out. Standing up, all 2 metres of him, he clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and swore to massacre Daxzus and his cronies. This was war.

The screen changed; Dane looked down: incoming data. It was James Eaton, the full Zaagan plan unfolding. Dane smirked.

************************

Hank was in his office, contemplating. He knew James was authentic and in danger. Would Daxzus recognise that James and Bella weren't cloned? How would they convince Daxzus when they couldn't speak the Zaagan tongue? He knew that Sophia was the only one left at the base who was not cloned. Presumably, this was all part of the plan. James would have left instructions with Sophia; she would know the plan, and James, as he had done with Hank, will have left a messaging device to communicate. Hank had received the message and passed it on to the President; he wasn't sure how James had got the message through. He read it again on his phone to try to decipher the meaning more thoroughly:

_Bella knows location of ice caves. Text later with location._

Why didn't he give some indication of the co-ordinates? Unless he didn't have time. In any case, the message was passed on to the President. He may have passed the co-ordinates on to Sophia, but she hadn't said anything. He contemplated the coming hours ahead, imminent attack of an alien source, but who exactly was the enemy?

Hank decided to search the international news online. The world's population was oblivious to the pending problem. A blessing, thought Hank, as in a matter of hours it could all be different. He sat down at his computer. The stealth bombers were on standby awaiting the order from the President, the Russians no doubt organising their exceptional firepower; the Europeans the same. He typed in 'Alien abduction Rome': 10,103,350,876 entries listed, the count reflecting the world's attention.

An officer was making his way to Hank's office in a hurry.

"Sir, you'd better come and see this!" A look of horror was engraved on the officer's face.

Hank rose immediately and followed his colleague, this time without shutting down his computer. Following the officer along the corridors and through the hangar, hardly noticing the Undarthian spacecraft as they ushered past, both men were running at an alarming pace. They were heading for the solitary dormitory where the clones and Sophia were staying. As they approached the dormitory, some men were exiting in shock, others like Hank running to check out the problem.

Hank entered the dormitory, which comprised the Common Room and private sleeping accommodation, adjacent to the dormitory. The first person he spotted was Demitri, shot though the head, a clean kill, slumped in the chair.

He looked to the left: Kosuke lay face down; he had obviously fallen forwards with the velocity of the shot to the back of the head: one shot, expertly administered. He thought of James, then Bella - at least they had escaped the massacre.

The officer led him to the private bedrooms. Scott McCabe, shot through the head, Patrick O'Donoghue, another clean shot to the head.

"Sophia, where's Sophia?" screamed Hank, knowing that she was the only one who mattered. The officer shook his head,  staring down at his meticulously polished black military boots. It wasn't good news.

They entered Sophia's room: she had been strapped to a chair, one bullet to the head. Her eyes were bruised, the fingers of her left hand broken.

"What the hell?" screamed Hank.

"Looks like whoever did this needed to get to Sophia. The others just in the way, Sir," said the soldier.

Had Daxzus rumbled James? Did he intercept whatever message he sent to Sophia? Hank didn't care about the others - they were robots - Sophia knew something, that was for sure, something somebody or the aliens didn't want to get out.

********************************

Dane was furious. His anger unrelenting. He could kill Annaluce right now - the daughter of that murdering lowlife. He wanted some answers, some retribution.

He marched off to the chambers where Annaluce and the three clones he had kidnapped from Area 51 were staying.

Dane entered Annaluce's room, complete with translator. The room was frugal: a bed, basic table, some seating, but not in the least bit hospitable. She had been used to opulence, being spoilt, influential; now she was in the keep of a monster, and without a headset she had no method of communication. The solitude, though, had made Annaluce evaluate her existence.

Dane had a look of deep anger in his face, resentment for all that Annaluce stood for: the daughter of a coward; a civilisation that epitomised selfishness; an unrelenting thirst for blood sports and, on top of that, a race who couldn't fight their own battles.

"We need to talk," Dane's translator emitted. Even with a computerised voice, Annaluce could see that she had a problem.

"Your father has crossed the line."

With that, he left in haste, headed to the other end of the long corridor, to the rooms where the three clones of James, Bella and Sophia were being kept under watch. All rooms were sound proofed.

Annaluce paced, irritated by the intrusion, sure that her days were numbered.

It took less than five minutes for Dane to take revenge; all three strangled with his bare hands, an action he worryingly enjoyed.
**CHAPTER 16**

**HOMEWARD BOUND**

James had been given a window: Daxzus had agreed to allow him to send the floor plan with graphic imaging of Dane's hideouts to the President; all part of the plan to take Dane Vhastek out of the running. So far, Daxzus hadn't questioned James, nor Bella's desire to use the computerised translator. Maybe Daxzus assumed that they would stay in character; after all, they were human clones, at least as far as Daxzus was aware they were an identical copy of the original.

James had evolved. His avid desire to hack, coupled with his understanding, limited as it was, of Dane's alien programming, gave him confidence with Daxzus's software. He cleared the use of English with Daxzus, the obvious choice to get a comprehensible message to the American President. James had the UDID numbers guaranteeing the messages would arrive. He had figured out quickly that the messages were delivered via a network of satellite piggybacking; the Zaagans were using human satellites. Clever use of human technology. This was beyond good.

James needed to lay down a _Hansel and Gretel_ trail, a nickname James concocted to mean leaving no trace of  messages that were private. James was being watched closely by a guard, but knew how to throw him off the trail.

First message to the American President:

_Graphic and co-ordinates of Undarthian hideout in Antarctica and Amazon, James._

Second message to Hank:

_Hank, ring the President. Get NASA to check out these other co-ordinates, signed off, the real James._

Third message to Sophia:

_There is a spaceship at Area 51. In case this gets into the wrong hands, destroy the message. The ship is dangerous. Warn the President. Only you I can trust, James._

James covered his tracks, wrote in some spurious code to throw the guard off the trail. He knew that Dane would have picked out his exact position from the micro-locator in the gum. James had wedged the used gum underneath the Zaagans' transporter from the ice run to the hideout.

James needed to extract the Zaagan plan. Far more challenging. Bella knew she needed to distract the guard. She entered the room, feigned a panic attack, shouted that she needed to get home, even convinced James. James looked at the guard, turned his head in Bella's direction. The guard went over. This was an organic computer. James checked recent activity. This data was for Dane and Dane alone. Reams of data, the deal with the Trollozytes, trading off our resources, plans to migrate humans, the drones to clean up after the fallout, it was all there. James started to export the data. The guard suspected James and moved back towards him. James aborted, knowing Dane  would anticipate that he was in trouble.

"Problem?" James shouted, his translator working effortlessly.

James gave Bella a stare. Immediately picking up on his signal, she screamed. The guard looked around at Bella for the second time.

"Daxzus is not going to be pleased," stating the obvious. "Get her back to her room!"

With the guard gone, James began to export the data for a second time.

"Come on, come on!" James whispered under his breath. It was quick. Luckily, their technology was lightning fast. Done. The data had been dumped. Dane would know the plan. Now all he had to do was get out of there.

Bella was back in her room. Daxzus was back. James had to think. He addressed Daxzus.

"The messages have been delivered. The humans will expect our return," said James, acting in a manner expected of his clone.

Daxzus processed the request but sensed a problem: Bella.

"You are programmed to think human but be Zaagan," said Daxzus.

"We are hybrid clones. Two different worlds. To reject one world is normal. Bella is rejecting Zaagan - a normal clone symptom. She will be fine." James kept calm. He looked Daxzus in the eye and held the stare.

Daxzus looked back at James and processed his comment. The clone was right, Daxzus deduced. He had no use for either of them. There was little point in jeopardising the project. He should send them back to the humans. They were expecting their return, as James had stated.

Bella had played the part; she had diverted attention. James had encrypted the messages and, through UDID recognition,  delivered them securely. The Zaagans' hideout locations were out there.

It was now only a matter of hours before the world's most capable nations would descend on Antarctica and the Amazon. James needed to get back to Dane's base to thwart any attempt by the coalition to obliterate the Undarthians' base.

The same transporters were mobilised. The Zaagans mounted, harnessed in their pillions, set the destination to the same location as the stealth aircraft drop-off point. Bella and James were on their way out of the ice caves.

The machines' power engaged, not a sound emerged. Effortlessly, they lifted and, in auto pilot mode, navigated out of the caves. The mirage roof evaporated, the machines exited. Instantly, the floor was replaced with the holographic image to complete the illusion. This was sophistication, technology at the highest level; it was sublime.

The Zaagans had initiated their g-force stabilisers, travelling in excess of 300 kilometres an hour, the ice beneath them a mesmerising blur.

The force hit the Zaagans' flight machines like a bolt. An electromagnetic pulse wave destabilised the machines. The flight control panel sparked, symbols emitted danger signs, the Zaagan pilots desperately tried to correct the errors. Another wave of electromagnetic pulses threw the machines off balance, slowing down their velocity with each pulse.

James looked up, and there, on the horizon, was a spacecraft. It was Undarthian; it was Dane Vhastek. James knew he must have homed in on the gum planted on the Zaagan machine. The ship got nearer by the second. The Zaagans, now in retreat, were heading back to their base. Another pulse wave as the Undarthian spaceship closed in for the kill. Emerging from the ship came five Undarthians riding Cyclons, the same used to  kidnap Annaluce. At the head, Dane, hair flowing frantically, black beads still intact, now in full warrior mode.

The machines glistened in the dim sunlight, gathering pace, warriors on a mission. James and Bella braced themselves, harnessed into their machines, unable to abort, hoping Dane and his crew could eliminate the Zaagans without sacrificing them in the bargain. Laser shots, three or four directly in front of the Zaagans, the ice erupted into a cloud of ice and snow. Now visually impaired, they swerved. Another burst of laser shots, more meandering. The next laser shot a direct hit on the control panel. Flames erupted, the harnesses released, the security within the on-board computer doing its job. James was released. Another laser shot, a direct hit to the control panel of Bella's machine.

The Undarthians above James and Bella swooped like eagles going in for the kill. Dane grabbed Bella; his co-warrior snatched James. The other three Undarthians finished the job. The Zaagans had no resistance, their machines destroyed, spiralling as they fell to the ground. Gone in a dramatic blaze.

Docking with the spacecraft was like returning home. James marvelled at Dane, the warrior, a beast who epitomised the spirit of true man. He was our ancestor; there was little doubt. The safety and familiarity of the ship, bucket seats, the on-board screens, the now-familiar hieroglyphics, a computer system James had begun to understand, and Dane at the helm.

This was his new home.
**CHAPTER 17**

**EARTH 'S RESPONSE**

The messages had come through from James. The American President had the precise locations for both imposters: Zaagans and Undarthians. The world's military best were preparing, ready to rid the world of the alien threat. Frantic conference calls, differing opinions, concerns about damage to our environment, potential collateral damage to indigenous populations, the cost of an operation of this magnitude, and opening a hornet's nest if the alien threat weren't obliterated, were amongst the issues discussed.

NASA were on board. Sebastian and Edmund had a feed to the President. Both locations, although a few thousand miles apart, were attainable. Edmund had one eye on Antarctica and the other on CERN.

A plan was emerging. The world needed to address the threat on four fronts: Antarctica at two locations, the Amazon and CERN. If James Eaton was right, then CERN posed the greater threat. The portal could be used to send in reinforcements.

The Russian President proposed that they cover the two sites in Antarctica whilst the Americans cover the Amazon and CERN.

James had given the President exactly what he needed and, in the bargain, had created a major problem. The world's military arsenal would destroy all alien bases. James was completely oblivious to the fact that his fellow humans would become traitors by taking out both bases in the knowledge that one of them was an ally.

The use of nuclear power had been discussed. The effect on the pole was uncertain. The decision was to exercise a MOAB (Massive Ordnance Air Blast) designed to explode in mid-air, creating huge pressure, enough to collapse tunnels. Two MOABs would be deployed simultaneously. They had the graphics, they knew the square footage, the blast would be enough to destroy the tunnels. The military craft would be armed and ready in case an alien ship made it out of the tunnels. The Americans proposed F-16, armed with state-of-the-art air-to-air missiles. In a similar fashion, the Russians also intended to utilise MOABs with the added backup of their latest 'stealth bomber', known as PAK-DA. Although not supposedly available until 2023, they confirmed that it would be ready for this mission. PAK-DA could launch nuclear attacks from anywhere in the world. At five times the speed of sound, this was the ultimate and could cover both Antarctica and the Amazon from heights on the outer echelons of our atmosphere. CERN was the potential threat; PAK-DA was the perfect solution.

James Eaton was safely back at Dane's base. Both sites, which he had now been privileged to visit, were eerily similar. Both had utilised natural caves, extending the floor space with some ingenious precision mining, to create a perfect, functional base. Both had the portal. Although limiting the size of the incoming traffic, they served a primary purpose as an effective exit point.

Dane knew that the portal the Zaagans had produced above CERN was the danger.

CERN regularly pulverised protons into each other almost at the speed of light, creating atmospheric tears, the building blocks of portal formation. Daxzus utilised this to formulate a perfect portal above CERN, blamed the humans and argued this was why uninvited aliens had arrived; it was their own making - a plausible argument. This would instead be the perfect entrance spot for his backup plan, now that he had access to the military might of his partner, Oosapeth.

Daxzus, however, would know by now that his henchmen hadn't returned. He would surely deduce that James had been intercepted. In the knowledge that humans had no land transporters capable of challenging the Zaagans' vastly superior technology, he would reach the conclusion that Dane Vhastek, his nemesis, was the only one capable of such a feat.

This would change the dynamics. Daxzus would need to factor this new development into his plan. This he would do; there was no doubt. Daxzus also had to watch CERN closely for incoming danger. CERN was increasingly becoming the centre of attention.

Countdown was now a mere eight hours away. The American President was desperate to talk with James. They had all seen the authentic visuals from the Zaagan base, but the text from James with the precise location of Daxzus's base arose suspicions. Why had James sent the location details? If this was our ally, shouldn't he be concentrating on the Undarthians? One of them must be a confidante, but which one?

They needed to be absolutely sure.

The President paced nervously around the Oval Office. He had just finished a call with his Russian counterpart. This operation was of huge significance: get it wrong and it could be a 'world at war' with an alien race. If they pulverised both alien races, it would certainly eradicate the threat, but equally destroy  the ally. Both presidents agreed that whilst the operation would be set up ready to attack, they needed to speak with James Eaton before unleashing their firepower.

The Russian stealth aircraft were being prepared, loaded with nuclear weapons to annihilate any craft emerging from the sites in Antarctica or the Amazon, not to mention the portal at CERN. The F-16s were, at the same time, being loaded with MOABs ready to destroy both underground sites in Antarctica. This was firepower on a ridiculous level. To carry out a co-ordinated attack of this nature with the least damage to the environment or indigenous population was of grave concern.

The President moved over to the window and, as on many occasions lately, wondered, _Why on my watch?_
**CHAPTER 18**

**A NEW THREAT**

Dane re-entered the room. Annaluce wondered where this would lead. This was an animal. He had disappeared along the corridor; she had heard struggles. This could be the end.

Annaluce sat up immediately, nervously, and confronted Dane.

"I suppose you are going to kill me as well." This was an assumption on Annaluce's part. She wasn't sure if Dane had killed the other captors.

Dane looked a little bemused. He was obviously angry. She looked at this great figure of a being. There was no doubt he had a formidable physique which Annaluce found powerful, but he was a monster, wasn't he?

Dane had noticed her absolute perfection, her unblemished skin, her long hair, jet-black, her most perfect green eyes. This wasn't how it was meant to be.

Annaluce was the daughter of the enemy, a mere pawn to dispose of at will in the quest to win, yet he could not put her out of his thoughts. This was going to be the most difficult interrogation imaginable.

Dane pulled up a chair and looked directly into her eyes. He couldn't be angry. How could he be? Her beauty was  captivating. Dane hated this feeling; it weakened him. A warrior having vulnerable feelings was no warrior.

He wore the translator.

"Annaluce, I am not going to harm you." The thought of picking her up in his arms and kissing the beautiful being was almost too much to bear.

"Then I'd like to go home, please," said Annaluce, knowing it was a futile request.

"That's not possible. I know you are afraid. I am truly sorry we had to kidnap you," said Dane, with a genuine look of regret on his face, which Annaluce immediately picked up on.

"I know this is about my father."

"Your father is relentless in his pursuit of power, the trading of other planets resources, making false footprint claims; however, this is not just another planet. We have the actual footprint here. We are their guardians. Annaluce, your father wants to destroy this planet," his warrior expression returned, if only for a moment.

Annaluce looked at this huge figure. She began to see a being who was passionate; he wasn't the monster her father had led her to believe, but she had no intention of showing weakness.

"I don't get involved in my father's affairs. Why are you telling me this? I can't help you," said Annaluce, who surprised herself at how unconvincing she sounded. She no longer felt threatened. She wanted to know a bit more; how exactly could she help? If it meant more time with Dane, that might be quite appealing.

"I had intended to use you as a pawn, to blackmail your father, but I realise that you have no jurisdiction over your father's actions. I have to stop the attack, even if it means I kill your father. This civilisation is only at level one, Annaluce; they do not understand."

"How do you know my father wants to take over this planet?" asked Annaluce, in a feeble attempt to keep up a pretence of resistance.

"There is a clever plan in play. You know that the Council of the Light will bring your civilisation down if you sabotage another planet without a footprint. He is playing a game, convincing this species, humans, that we are the threat, in order to start a conflict, which will inevitably result in their demise. Earth will be fair game. Look, Annaluce, he will probably bring in another race to finish off the humans. We believe it will be the Trollozytes. They can move planets through their portal technology. This is a dangerous path to go down, not only for this planet but probably for your own. The Trollozytes are ruthless; they may double-cross your father." Dane figured that placing Zarduzian in potentially the same predicament as Earth might draw a reaction.

Annaluce knew Oosapeth. She knew her father. This would be how it was going to be. She couldn't be seen to side with Dane, but she was secretly agreeing with his reasoning. Annaluce had long wondered about the path her race had taken, the Death Bait Games, poverty, the greed of the privileged. Maybe this was her opportunity to fight back. In any case, she was warming to Dane. Ironically, she felt safer with this being than she had ever felt under the protection of her father.

"How can I possibly help? My father wouldn't listen to me anyway," said Annaluce, realising that she had given Dane an opening.

"I am a warrior; I am not the best negotiator. I was hoping you might enlighten me," said Dane, who was now turning on a charm he didn't even know he possessed.

"How do I know you are telling me the truth?" asked Annaluce, just bringing herself back from total submission.

"I will show you. Follow me." With that, Dane headed towards the door.

Annaluce followed. They headed towards his war room.

************************

The American President took the call from Sebastian at NASA.

"Mr President, there has been a strange development. We don't like the look of this."

This was not what the President needed right now. Operation Freedom was being set up nicely. The Russians were dealing with the threat at CERN, a co-ordinated effort between America and Europe had all three sites covered, the two in Antarctica and the remaining site in the Amazon. So, what exactly had Sebastian uncovered that they hadn't already taken into account?

"It's the alien craft that took out the three Undarthian ships, Mr President," said a nervous Sebastian.

"What of it?" asked the President, losing a little patience with the call. He was on constant exchange of intelligence with most of the world leaders, so he needed Sebastian to get to the point and get off the phone.

"There were three sets of eight alien craft attacking the Undarthian spaceships. A couple were taken out in retaliation, but the remaining have now re-formed into one unit. The worry, Mr President, is the huge mothership they have docked with. It appears to be heading our way."

A pause. What plan was this? Either Daxzus was double-crossing them or he must have brought in backup. It can't be the Undarthians as the assailants had taken out their three ships.

"Look, Sebastian, we've enough on our plate to deal with. What's their distance from Earth?"

"About five million miles, Sir. They are not moving too swiftly, so it doesn't look like an imminent threat," said Sabastian, trying to sound upbeat.

"Well, that certainly is welcome news. Look, keep me posted if anything changes, particularly if they increase velocity."

"Will do, Mr President," and with that Sebastian rang off.

The President immediately got the news out to all other parties. A conversation with the Russian President resulted in an agreement to proceed with Operation Freedom as planned. This might simply be backup for Daxzus should the humans not prevail. There was still the threat of incoming alien traffic through CERN, but it was more likely from the Undarthians.

In the Oval Office, the President resumed his position near his favourite large window, gazing out and again cursing his bad luck that this was all taking place on his watch. He muttered under his breath: "Where the hell is James Eaton?"

************************

In the War Room, Dane set out to demonstrate to Annaluce the plan her father was putting together. Immediately he entered the ice cave he was given the news.

"Large, unidentified mothership heading our way," said one of Dane's principal operatives.

Dane immediately enlarged the holographic image.

"We identified the source yet?" asked Dane, now going into full warrior mode.

"Negative, Dane. Unidentified. It's a big motherfucker!" said the operative.

"Velocity only at normal 10 (approximately 30,000 miles per hour). If this was backup, then they are dawdling. Not Daxzus's style. Surely he'd use the portal," said Dane.

"That's what we figured. It's not Trollozyte either."

_What the hell is Daxzus up to now?_ thought Dane. _He 's a devious little bastard; this must be to throw us off the scent._

"Any action at the CERN portal?" asked Dane.

"All quiet at the moment," said the operative.

Dane looked at the graphic of Earth. The Russian stealth bombers were at 10,000 feet, heading towards the Antarctic; the American F-16s were split, a squadron Antarctica bound, the other destination the Amazon. Dane could see the formation of the humans' strategy. He was vulnerable on both fronts, but the evacuation of the Amazon site limited his immediate concerns.

Annaluce was watching intently. The way Dane dealt with the 'war game' was intriguing to witness first hand. She had not heard anything to remotely suggest that Dane Vhastek was doing anything other than protecting his position.

"He is doing this to take our eye off the target," said Dane. "If these are not Trollozyte ships, then he must have a new best friend. Keep checking the portal at CERN."

Dane considered his options; he would need his own backup. The humans had pretty formidable armoury for a level one civilisation. Daxzus wouldn't play his hand until the final moments. If Dane drew first blood, then Daxzus would get a shot at claiming Earth and would retaliate with backup, probably eclipsing Dane's firepower. If Dane waited too long, he might have to prevent an attack on his base in Antarctica from the humans; in which case, he would still be seen as the aggressor if he retaliated. He needed Daxzus to strike first.

The atmosphere was intense. Annaluce decided to interject.

"My father must know I have been kidnapped. He will surely know that it is you."

A good point, and one which Dane had already considered. Knowing Daxzus as he did, he would not let that minor detail  interfere with his game plan. If Daxzus knew that Dane had his daughter, and he still initiated an attack, knowing it could get out of control, that would confirm that he had no concern for his daughter. This was not the action of a loving father. The chance of Daxzus aborting for his daughter's safety was remote, Dane thought.

Now Dane was considering a completely different tack, which would not involve any threat to Annaluce.

The clock was ticking, the humans would be attacking shortly, Daxzus would surely reveal his plan, probably reinforcements via CERN. Dane had his work cut out. He had to be patient and hope that Daxzus would draw first blood.

Annaluce looked on. The penny was dropping. Maybe her father was not as she thought.
**CHAPTER 19**

**THE EVIDENCE**

Hank was back at his desk. The situation evolving in the battle to outwit the aliens was serious. He had received information form the authentic James Eaton and knew that the other James was a clone. He processed the events in his mind.

There was one thing puzzling him and he had the same gut feeling as that which had led him to search online for a picture of the real James Eaton, with his mole, the one distinguishing feature that set him apart from the imposter, leading to Hank's suspicions being verified.

Hank was playing out the events of the past week in his mind, like watching a box-set repeatedly. He longed to work on one of the alien craft that he had seen systematically dotted around the base in hangars. James Eaton, the clone, could have chosen any one of the alien craft. He could have insisted on requisitioning all the ships, just to be sure he had unturned every stone in his quest to prevent the invasion of Earth. James had the technology on his phone which identified the alien craft as Undarthian; he also discovered the plan on the aliens' on-board computer. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

How did James Eaton's clone know that the Undarthian ship was the right one? Why did he steer clear of all the other  craft? Especially the new arrival just a few days before the return of the seven abducted in St Peter's Square, Rome; the one with the complicated hardware machinery in its mid-section. Hank couldn't put his finger on it, but it was almost as if the clone was avoiding the other ship.

The clone of James had been mysteriously kidnapped, something only Hank knew about; Sophia was dead, so there was nobody with whom he could discuss his suspicions. He wondered if, somehow, the ship that the clone had failed to check might offer a clue.

Hank decided to do some investigative work. He would have a look at the new ship, take a few photos, try to figure out its significance, if any. James, the authentic version, had the technology on his phone. Now that the clone had disappeared and Hank had been entrusted, maybe he could approach James about his suspicions once he returned from the Antarctic.

Hank decided that he would not relay his suspicions to the President until he had run his findings by James.

Hank stood up from his desk, pushed his chair behind him with the backs of his calves, logged out of his computer and set off to find some evidence. He checked his watch: it was midday, the date 23rd February.

************************

Elise had taken the events of the last week in her stride. Dane had his suspicions as to which alien race she belonged to, but hadn't asked too many questions. He had accepted her as part of the team and included her in this latest dangerous Zarduzian mission. She had watched James with both curiosity and admiration: for a civilisation with limited advances, this human had shown remarkable resolve and ingenuity. It had  demonstrated to Elise the qualities in humans, the tenacity to prevail against the odds. She had to admit to herself that the journey so far had been exhilarating.

James, beside his better judgement, had become intrigued by Elise. He knew nothing of her civilisation, but couldn't look past her beauty. She wasn't perfect - she wasn't Annaluce - but she was beautiful to James and he considered her escape from the 'killing chambers' nothing short of heroic. That was the quality he was looking for; it got his attention.

_Hang on a second_ , he thought. Who was he kidding? She's an alien when all's said and done. He could deal with that small obstacle later, he contemplated. For the moment, he just had to know more. A smile appeared on his face as a thought occurred to him: he could be the first human to make advances to an alien and, even then, he might be turned down!

Both were summoned to the War Room, along with Kosuke, Demitri, Patrick and Bella. Scott was still recovering from a serious wound, but with the aid of Undarthian medical advances he was on the mend.

James and Elise entered the ice room. Annaluce, no longer a prisoner, appeared quite at ease. Dane was studying the holographic image, enlarging aspects, running various permutations through his war computer, trying to visualise the battlefield. He was clearly worried.

The humans and Elise wore the translator headsets. Dane had embraced his counterparts; in his eyes, this was a team effort. Everyone except Annaluce had a vested interest in the success of this mission.

Dane addressed the diverse group of comrades; Annaluce had yet to earn the right to be included. All looked on.

"Our position is compromised, potentially by three assailants." He pointed to the mothership five million miles  from Earth. "The human squadrons descending upon their targets, and Daxzus, who would no doubt enlist the support of another alien race. We defend this world. We cannot strike first; we have to anticipate their actions."

It seemed a hopeless cause.

Dane slumped a little in his chair, his left hand across his mouth, deep in thought. There was something not quite right. He had played out these games with Daxzus on several occasions and most of the time got the better of him.

Daxzus was predictable; it was always the same strategy.

The last time they drew swords was over a planet in the outer regions of the galaxy, called Anthropius, that the Undarthians had propagated a mere 50,000 years previously. The life form was far too primitive and had barely conquered flight.

Daxzus, as usual, abducted seven individuals, returned the cloned versions, who then convinced the host civilisation that their world was under threat from the dastardly Dane Vhastek. Dane almost had an inferiority complex over the excessive use of him as the adversary. Anywhere Dane went, Daxzus wasn't too far behind.

The Trollozytes were his usual choice. Oosapeth, despite promoting himself to the Council of the Light as kosher, was always open to a deal. Daxzus could colourfully paint the picture Oosapeth needed to hear to cut the deal. Usually, it was that he had a footprint, a claim on the said planet. Oosapeth, not one for paperwork, figured that he was acting on a plausible application, albeit one with many spurious claims, but worked on the principle that he could always deal with indiscretions later. By that time, the mining of the planet's resources would be complete, he would have made his profit and then plead innocence.

On the last occasion, Dane cleverly turned the tables. At the last minute, just before battle broke out, Dane had sent footage  to Daxzus via a secure electronic message in hieroglyphics, that the Council were making a mandatory visit to Anthropius.

On this occasion, his luck was in, with a bit of light prompting from one of the Council members he had inadvertently, on purpose, kidnapped. He didn't take much persuasion, given the evidence, but was not best pleased with Dane's methods. Dane later accepted the sanction that any further misdemeanour would mean an immediate revoking of his licence. The fact that Dane was proved right went some way towards leniency.

Oosapeth soon scarpered at the hint of a Security Council audit of his operation.

It meant that Daxzus was taking a grave risk with Earth.

There was something not right. It was the attack on Dane's three ships safeguarding the space around Earth: this was an aggression far too risky for Daxzus, and not his style.

Dane paused, turned to his troops and announced that he had a new plan.
**CHAPTER 20**

**THE MESSAGE**

Daxzus assessed his position.

The ice cave was getting a little tiresome. He longed to be back in the capital, Larquiston. He had missed the Games; watching Death Bait was his favourite pastime - the skill required to bag a squalor always impressed him. For him, there was nothing better than a squalor released from the Death Baiter into the pit of fire.

Daxzus looked at his screen, scrutinising every move like a game of chess. He needed Dane to slip up; he hoped that the humans would force an aggressive defence from the Undarthians. One slip-up from Dane and he would be in for the kill. The Council couldn't argue this time; open warfare not initiated by the Zaagans and Earth would be fair game. He read the Council's stance on the subject:

_Those who propagate cannot prevent an attempt by the life form propagated to venture into the cosmos. The guardian 's purpose is that of custodian, to assist in the development of the said propagated, to allow the species to develop of their own accord. This is the way to maintain the equilibrium of the universe. These are the wishes of the Council of the Light._

No interference allowed, so the great Dane Vhastek would be shackled, thought Daxzus. You are going to have to defend  the human attack without retaliation and there isn't a thing you can do to about it.

Daxzus's plan, once the battle had begun, was to disable the human firepower, take control of their arsenal, elementary stuff, and use it against them. Simple.

Armageddon.

There was just one thing bothering him: why had Oosapeth taken out Dane's three ships without consent? The stakes were high, Earth was the jewel, the most important planet, abundant in resources and, moreover, the next home of the Zaagan elite. He would be expecting a visit any time soon; he would ask Oosapeth for an explanation about the three ships.

A mild thunder erupted throughout the ice cave; the portal had received a visitor. If Daxzus's plan worked, he would be away from Earth shortly, whilst the Trollozytes cleaned up the aftermath, and he might even catch the latter part of the Games Fest.

The Trollozytes' robotic drones, which would clean up after the fallout, were something to behold. Granted, a mass migration of the humans who might survive would be messy, but that was the price Oosapeth had to pay to earn his portion of Earth's resources. Daxzus allowed himself a little self-praise.

Daxzus still longed to equal the advanced technology of his partner, but the plan was unfolding. That was Phase Two.

************************

The visitor was announced. It was not Oosapeth.

Magretux was his second-in-command. Daxzus had left him in sole control of Zarduzian, with strict instructions that under no circumstances should he leave or bother him whilst he was conducting his exploits on Earth.

Magretux, who cut the figure of a Zaagan becoming of such responsibility, looked unsettled. With the welcome ritual out of the way, he brought the news.

"Annaluce is missing," he announced, staring straight ahead beyond Daxzus as if in a trance. At 2 metres tall, he was well above average height, formidable yet afraid of the response from Daxzus.

Daxzus kept his calm, gritted his teeth whilst squinting his eyes in deep thought.

_Dane Vhastek. Without a doubt, Dane Vhastek_ , thought Daxzus. Last time he kidnapped the Council member; this time his daughter.

"More bad news, I'm afraid," Magretux, now breaking into a visible sweat. "There has been a rescue at the 'clone warehouse'. All the humans have been rescued, plus one more." He hesitated, to give Daxzus breathing space to absorb the bad news.

"The one more?" Daxzus asked, almost as if he didn't want Magretux to reveal the answer.

A pause, a look of terror, as if looking at the countdown of a bomb strapped to your torso.

"Serenix," said his second-in-command.

"How did the abductor know where to find Serenix in the warehouse? There are hundreds of chambers," said Daxzus, as if he had just announced Magretux's death sentence.

"We don't know, Sir. Baffling. We are investigating thoroughly. Looks like crossfire."

"Those chambers are designed to withstand crossfire," said Daxzus, angrily.

"We are investigating, Sir."

No point in considering the whys and wherefores; Daxzus had a major problem. He thought of the killing chambers and the last time he visited before returning to Earth. His one  troubling recollection was that Annaluce was tinkering with the chamber housing Serenix. At the time, he believed it was mere coincidence, but now there was doubt.

"The other six alongside Serenix - were they rescued as well, just for good measure?" asked Daxzus sarcastically.

"Squalor meat, Sir." The assertiveness in Magretux's voice replacing his previous sheepishness verified the accuracy of his testament.

"Did we extract the intelligence?" asked Daxzus, hoping desperately to salvage something; the information that Serenix and her comrades knew about the portal amplifier was critical to Phase Two of his operation.

"The cloning was a success. The intelligence transfers completely intact. We thoroughly tested the clones' accuracy. Tortured the hosts again to check the data. The results were 100% accurate. Then we disposed of the host beings as instructed. The clones are an exact copy," said Magretux, convincingly. This procedure was a mere formality these days.

Daxzus could at least take some comfort from the fact that Magretux was accurate in his assessment of the information the clones held. The torture of the individuals would have been indescribable. Those beings must have almost welcomed the horror awaiting them outside the capital walls. In a grotesque way, it was a quicker demise.
**CHAPTER 21**

**NO SHOW**

"Where the hell is James Eaton?" the American President kept repeating to himself. Merely hours from executing an attack and the coalition forces still didn't know who their enemy was.

Hank had confirmed the exact location of the Zaagan hideout, courtesy of Mr Eaton. James had provided the precise spot where the Undarthians were allegedly plotting their sinister plan, but who could the coalition trust? Could this be a plot by both alien species to draw in the humans, trap them, expose their firepower only to dispose of their opposition in one fell swoop? There was no rule book, no previous encounters upon which to evaluate a strategy. Alien warfare wasn't quite what he had understood to be the 'Execution of his Office'. Protection and defence of the Constitution of the United States was one thing; fending off an alien invasion another. _Insanity_ , he thought.

Why had James not been in contact? Why hadn't he returned to the drop-off position near the ice run? The President had sent him and Bella Laurent into the lions' den. Daxzus was not to be trusted, he deduced.

The President called through to Jillian: "Get me Hank Richards at Area 51, then Edmund Nelson at NASA."

Hank came through first. Jillian, in her professional manner, apologised to Edmund for his having to wait on the line.

"Hank, have you heard anything from Mr Eaton?" a sense of hope in the President's voice.

"No, Mr President, not since he sent through the Zaagan location. I am concerned that he may have sent an important message to Sophia just before she was murdered. Whatever that message was, it could be in the wrong hands," said Hank.

The thought had already occurred to the President.

"We are about to destroy both hideouts in the Antarctic, Hank. Most definitely James Eaton and Bella Laurent are located at one of them," said the President, solemnly. A sacrifice that the coalition was all too willing to risk. The fate of the planet was at stake, but he couldn't divulge that information to Hank.

Jillian buzzed through to remind him that Edmund Nelson was holding. He rang off with instructions that Hank keep him posted, as if he needed reminding.

"Edmund, any further developments?"

"No. The velocity of the mothership is constant, still heading towards Earth, but not an imminent threat. We have visuals on the two locations in Antarctica. Thermal imaging suggests activity, Mr President. We believe that both targets are alive."

The President was interrupted by Jillian once again.

"I have the Russian President on the line, or at least his interpreter. Sounds rather urgent; shall I put him through?"

He considered for a moment that his phone was busier than a trader on the New York Stock Exchange. Obviously, he had to take the call. Jillian was just being polite; she knew this call trumped his current caller.

The interpreter was put through.

"We have a problem, Mr President," said the interpreter.

His day was not going well. Staring out of his favourite window in the Oval Office, again, he almost expected to see a fleet of alien ships land on his lawn.

"We have lost contact with our stealth bomber squadron."

That is a problem.

"Let me get this straight: no contact whatsoever?" asked the President.

"Zero contact, Mr President. To add to our problems, we had instigated plasma invisibility"; there was no need to deceive this important coalition member.

The American President was all too familiar with plasma invisibility. The damn Russians must have hacked into their mainframe at Area 51. The electrodes developed to engulf their own stealth aircraft with plasma had only recently been perfected. The plasma, initiated via electrodes strategically located on the aircraft's exterior, creates invisibility by reflecting the surrounding atmosphere of the plane. The aircraft cannot be seen. The stealth already had zero radar detectability through its unique shape, designed to disperse rather than return any radar signal. What this meant was that the Russian stealth squadron could not be detected by radar nor visibly seen.

"Complete invisibility. How much nuclear armoury on board?" said the President, almost not daring to ask.

"Enough to end our civilisation, if in the wrong hands," a blunt but honest reply.

"I will check that our F-16 squadron haven't been compromised. Give me five minutes." With that, the President rang off.

"Jillian, get me Hank Richards again, urgently."

The operation was being orchestrated through the base in Nevada, complete secrecy assured in order not to raise concerns.

Hank came through.

"Hank, do we still have contact with our squadrons heading to Antarctica?" asked the President, almost impatiently.

"Absolutely, Mr President. Targets will be reached in less than two hours. Is there a change of plan?"

"No, just checking, Hank. Keep me posted if anything comes in from James," the President not wanting to alert him to the disastrous problem the coalition now faced. With that he rang off.

"Jillian, get me Edmund again," said the President. He was now almost certain the traders weren't this busy.

"Edmund I want full surveillance on the CERN portal. Report in if anything remotely suspicious occurs. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," replied Edmund.

The President called the Russian interpreter back; they agreed to continue with the plan. Annihilate all three sites: the two in Antarctica and the one in the Amazon, at the earliest opportunity. That should create a disconnect with the aliens' control over the stealth bombers.

James and Bella were on their own from now on. Unless the American President heard to the contrary, they would both be casualties, although both would be awarded a 'medal of honour', probably from every country in the coalition. They would be heroes for their contribution to the cause.
**CHAPTER 22**

**SQUALOR REVENGE**

Daxzus was as good as dead. In fact, at this precise moment he wished he were.

Staring back at him were at least a dozen squalors, each with hatred and anger in their eyes. Daxzus, adorned with his customary space suit, epitomising all that was evil about the regime: dictators ensuring all the best technology was at their disposal, whilst those outside perished by the millions. His face was swollen, smatterings of dried blood around his nose and mouth.

Daxzus looked up. Only a few hundred metres away, he could clearly see the Great Wall, the force field, a sight of magnificence to those on the inside, a wall of death for the unfortunate outside it.

Larquiston.

How did he get here? Why was his face in a mess? His mind more than a little fuzzy, he wiped his eyes, hoping that would erase the image before him. The squalors were still there. He remembered, and instantly placed both hands over his bloodstained face, in shame.

"Serenix," he whispered, under his breath. He wasn't able to convince Oosapeth that he hadn't abducted Serenix. Having  been informed minutes before in the ice cave by his second-in-command that his own daughter, Annaluce, had been snapped by Dane, he expected the arrival of Oosapeth to be productive; one he should have relished, an ally who could rid this world of his nemesis, Dane Vhastek.

Instead, an angry ally, accompanied by six of his most trusted warriors, interrogated him. First, the insistence that Daxzus fire up his hologram imaging. Oosapeth introduced new data to the system; these hologram programs were all pretty compatible. It took seconds to upload the file. The image was equally as scary as the squalors' faces he was currently ogling; he painfully recalled the events, blow by blow.

The image was Serenix strapped inside the killing chamber. The look of anguish, horror engulfed her little face, the image did little to ease Oosapeth's growing rage. It was there, plain to see: Daxzus had taken his precious daughter.

Oosapeth always considered Daxzus less than trustworthy, a bit of a sleaze ball; this, however, was beyond comprehension.

Oosapeth's thugs gave him a working over; the Zaagans at the base in Antarctica did nothing to prevent the beating - they knew the force of the Trollozytes. Question upon question. Why had he taken Serenix? Who was she with when she was unceremoniously captured? Where was she when she was first apprehended? What were his intentions?

Daxzus can only remember thinking, _Why didn 't he just kill me? Why was he using such barbaric methods of torture?_

He denied the allegation on the grounds that he never got involved in any of the killing chamber assignments. He argued that it must have been some horrible mistake. He was baffled. Each denouncement met with a further blow by Oosapeth's henchmen.

Daxzus knew it was the planet Trentaquin. He knew that Oosapeth would suspect that this would be something to do with  the portal amplifier. The critical element of the interrogation had been reached. Daxzus was asked again: "Where did you kidnap my daughter?"

"I don't know. Let me investigate. Give me time. There has been a big mistake." Thump! another blow, this time to the stomach. Daxzus clearly needed a different approach.

"Let me think," requested Daxzus, if only to give himself a welcome reprieve from the beating. "There was an incident on Trentaquin." At the mention of the planet Trentaquin, Oosapeth immediately raised his right hand, signalling to his henchmen to stop the beating for a moment.

"What do you know about Trentaquin?"

At that point, Daxzus must have passed out. He cannot recall anything he might have divulged. The pain from the excruciating flogging must have been too much.

Oosapeth ironically used the Zaagan portal in the ice chamber to inflict the unspeakable horrors he was now facing, by transporting Daxzus back home, but to the wrong side of the Great Wall. He will have known the death he was about to endure. Such was the hate that this would, temporarily at least, feed his thirst for revenge.

Daxzus looked again at the hate staring back at him. The squalors would have known who he was; there would be no reasoning.

The intense heat rained down on his swollen face, accentuating the pain from the open sores of the beating.

Daxzus prepared himself for his fate.

Twenty-four hours earlier, Oosapeth had ushered away his confidante, Marrazeth. He had watched the hologram of his daughter, was ready to join Daxzus for the kill, when incoming data caught his attention.

The data source identified only as 'unknown', which raised suspicion. The highly technical software had extensive  protection against hacking. It was unheard of for a foreign source to infiltrate the hologram security software. For the source to be classed as 'unknown' was even more intriguing.

Around 750,000 years ago, the Council of the Light had initiated an inventory on all hardware; be it spaceships, personal identification, galactic-origin software; any system in operation which required data recognition was to be registered with the Council in the galaxy the owner frequented.

This source was either rogue, from another galaxy or pre-dated the Council's Doomsday initiative. Oosapeth was faced with a dilemma: does he open the link and gamble the security of his operation or does he report the imposter to the Council?

On closer inspection, the data reference simply read 'Serenix'. This had to be the abductor; this must be a plea for a reward. He could not resist the temptation to identify the vagabonds. He opened the file.

The visual was instant; the effect devastating. Serenix in the killing chamber, helpless, about to die a spine-chilling termination.

Oosapeth screamed in agony, crouching in the foetal position. The visual continued. The rescue, an Undarthian grabbing Serenix, Dane Vhastek leading the operation. He could not comprehend it. What did this mean? Why was Dane rescuing his daughter? It didn't matter. However this came to be, he was eternally thankful to Dane. His peripheral vision of this dramatic footage spotted one of his engineers in the chamber next to the now vacant vessel Serenix had escaped from.

Daxzus was a dead man. It was he who had kidnapped the crew of the ill-fated mission to recover the malfunctioning craft from Trentaquin. The weasel had kidnapped the crew for one reason only: to break the code of the portal amplifier. Somehow, Serenix, his daughter, had escaped. He immediately exhaled  a sigh of relief. She had shown great courage and tenacity; a worthy daughter, she was alive.

Every mission involving the portal amplifier included a risk of espionage; the amplifier in the wrong hands was dangerous. Oosapeth gave a combination code to each member of the crew. For security, only one member of the crew was given the correct code. None of the crew knew which member that was. If the portal amplifier was called upon, each crew member would enter their code; the equipment would only be activated once the correct sequence was entered. A timer delay would ensure that no crew member would know which sequence was the correct code. Anonymity protected.

Serenix, on this occasion, was the crew member who knew the code to trigger the equipment.

Oosapeth knew that Daxzus would have tortured the ship's company, disposed of them once knowledge transfer was complete, the entire crew duplicated through the Zaagans' barbaric cloning chambers.

Daxzus needed to be eradicated, as did Serenix's clone.

Oosapeth requisitioned Marrazeth. He arrived within minutes.

"We will be going to Earth. The plan has changed. Gather six of our best warriors."

The footage of Serenix on repeat play, Marrazeth had learnt when not to ask questions. This was one of those moments.

************************

Daxzus was stripped of his technological garments, naked, exposed. The squalors dressed him as a pauper; this was to be his attire for his crucifixion. They did not rip him apart limb by limb; that would have been too pleasant.

With hands and feet tied, he was left to endure the relentless heat, his Garden of Gethsemane. The squalors primed him for their evening entertainment: the Death Bait Games. How poetic that the greatest advocator of the Games was to be its most decorated victim. If he was lucky, the strike would be to the cranium. He hoped to die cleanly; the thought of the 'pit of fire' almost drove him insane.

Looking at the Death Baiters from the other side of the wall changed his perspective. The squalors were quickly whipped up into a frenzy at the sight of the Baiters. Food. Simple as that.

Death Baiters filled the dusk sky like eagles poised to swoop on their prey; a magnificent sight. The squalors positioned their victim. For Daxzus, it was a case of either a clean hit or dismembering by the baying savages. He knew the ropes: jump at the Death Baiter, try to snatch the food bag and, in his case, hope he wasn't successful.

Daxzus admired the wall for one last time. Before being tied up, he had considered making a run at the force field, a quick death, but it was too far away and he was too weak. A Baiter came close. The squalors shouted, "Jump!" He jumped.

The arrow didn't hit him cleanly; it thrust into his thigh. Daxzus, dangling upside down, helpless, heading towards the wall, the fire pit awaiting. With every last fragment of energy he could muster, in agony beyond belief, he screamed at the Baiter:

"I'm Daxzus."
**CHAPTER 23**

**ICE CAVES**

The shudder reverberated through the ice caves. Dane arose instantly.

This wasn't an arrival; it was a tremor.

Ice cascaded from the ceiling, icicles crashed to the floor, technical equipment flickered with every pulse wave.

Dane enlarged the war plan holographic image. The others came running into the chamber; surely the war hadn't started, had it? Dane identified the armoury - the F-16s were in play, the stealth bombers were missing. Aircraft squadrons had split over Antarctica, predictably heading his way, but also towards Daxzus.

Dane blew up the image for greater scrutiny. A strike, a disturbance of some sort? The Daxzus ice caves were isolated as the vicinity of the disturbance. Had there been an attack? The human entourage of war planes was too far away. Had this been an alien attack? The Trollozytes, perhaps? Dane needed conclusive proof that Daxzus had been taken out.

He signalled to a few of his war veterans, barked some orders; they were on their way.

The 'ice-breakers' were fired up, the roof opened in anticipation and within minutes three Undarthians were  heading towards Daxzus's position in Antarctica, encrypted with the precise position, distance and estimated journey time.

Dane, in full combat regalia, armed, black beads at horizontal with the sheer speed. The machines rose in unison, 100 metres, 200 metres, rising to an altitude of 1,000 metres. In the distance, a plume of smoke.

It was the Zaagan ice caves: Daxzus.

Ice splintered for miles, a gaping hole in the ice where the carefully crafted caves had collapsed.

Dane made circles with his forefinger in the air: retreat. The sun was low, the ice shimmered, a mirror of glistening freeze, no horizon in sight, an infinity pool.

_What of Annaluce?_ Dane thought. It was her father. The plan had changed, but how will he convince the humans, his own civilisation's off spring, that he wasn't the foe? Within hours he could expect a human attack on his base and any retaliation would compromise his integrity. James would need to play the arbitrator, the adjudicator of peace. What of the Trollozytes? Dane needed to gather his thoughts, re-programme the war machine, reconsider his position; time was not an asset.

The base approached, the ice-breaker indicated as much, and the opening appeared. Dane looked behind him to check on his warrior comrades. A laser shot!

Dane's comrade was killed instantly. He looked to the heavens; the drone was above. Another round of laser shots. Dane moved his machine left, right, locked in the force field protector, sent out a wave of electromagnetic force to disorientate the drone. Looking behind, his other comrade copied; both were weaving, meandering. Dane looked up to see a drone-like ship, quick, agile, moving at incredible speed; another burst of laser shots. The opening to his base was close; 50 metres at most. Dane looked up, took aim and fired, instigating another  pulse of force. Watching his back, his comrade opened fire at the drone.

The lasers reflected off the ice: red, blue, green, a cascade of colours erupted.

The drone vanished as quickly as it appeared. Dane wasn't hanging around. The floor dispersed, both ice-breakers disappeared into the ice cave, relatively unblemished.

The roof sealed shut, the ice-breakers parked, but Dane had lost a warrior. He wanted some answers. First, the mystery of Daxzus's den; second, the intrusion.

His war plan would process the data, give him answers. At the moment every thought was a conundrum, his plan in tatters and Annaluce to contend with. Who was the invader? He hadn't seen that coming.

Dane powered down the corridors, Annaluce heading towards him, anxious. She put her hand out by her side as he brushed by. He reciprocated. The faintest touch and Dane knew she was worried, not for her father, but for him. He would deal with the Daxzus issue later.

James, already in the war cave, had watched the events unfold.

Dane entered the War Room. The game had changed. He needed to analyse the data.

James was the first to broach the subject: "Exactly what had happened on the ice?" he said. "Did you find the source of the tremor?" A melee of questions.

Dane could sense that Annaluce had followed him in. He didn't want to seem too insensitive, yet he couldn't completely hide the truth.

"Daxzus," said Dane. "There seems to be a problem with the Zaagan hideout." That was as much as he wished to divulge, although he knew that Daxzus could not have  survived. "Not sure the extent of the damage, but he is less of a problem now, that is for sure. The immediate danger is the drone; dare I say that other drones may follow. I need to know the source and how exactly they knew that we were out on the ice."

The war hologram, now in full view, confirmed the obliteration of the Zaagan base. Dane, with the touch of a concert pianist, played the hologram, scrutinising every detail of the war game, playing out every move in real time. Extracting the virtual image of the 'battle on the ice' did not reveal the source of the drone. If it had been either a Zaagan or Trollozyte, he would have identified it.

When the Council of the Light passed the law for all military craft, whatever the type, to be registered, each was issued with a unique code. Dane should have been able to pinpoint the source. _Who the hell were these invaders?_ he thought. He rubbed his forehead, deep in thought, his mind trying to call upon his vast experience to come up with an answer.

Annaluce, at probably the most inappropriate moment, asked the dreaded question:

"Is my father dead?" surprisingly, without any emotion.

"Depends whether he escaped before the explosion," said Dane, bluntly. No point in trying to portray false hope, but it was a valid point.

James interrupted:

"Dane, look! The squadron of F-16s is heading towards us!" James had begun to play the hologram, maybe not as a master pianist, but certainly capable of a decent recital.

Dane homed in on the F-16 squadron: several had been eliminated and the rest were fighting for their lives. The drones attacking were also from an unknown source. Precisely as Dane had predicted: multiple drones.

Incoming data to the hologram, Trollozyte in origin. Elise was also watching the action unfold. Dane began to question why he had so many imposters at his base. The source of the incoming data was Oosapeth. What threats were likely to be thrown in Dane's direction this time? What did the Trollozytes have to do with the demise of the Zaagan base? Dane braced himself and opened the connection.

************************

The call to the Oval Office was urgent. It was Hank.

The President took the call.

"The F-16s are being attacked on all fronts, Mr President. It is alien fire, for sure, but I've no clue which alien race."

"Get them out of there, Hank! These aliens are far superior to us to chance an aerial battle," was the President's immediate response.

"They have disabled our ability to release the cargo, Mr President. We can't even fight back. We are sitting ducks at the moment."

"We've lost the Russian stealth bombers and now this! No news from James Eaton, either. We need to get our boys home and re-evaluate."

"Got it, Mr President," said Hank "I'll call the Secretary of Defense right away."

The President rang off and put a message through to Jillian:

"Get me the Russians!"

"I have Edmund Nelson on the line, Mr President. Would you like to take the call or keep him on hold?"

The President rolled his eyes; he felt more like a call centre operator. _What now?_ he thought.

"You had better put him through, but get me the Russians!"

Edmund came through.

"Mr President. There's insurmountable activity at the moment, Sir. Looks like Daxzus is toast and there has been an attack on the enemy hideout, a battle involving a drone and three Undarthian craft. More importantly, activity at CERN," said Edmund, trying to dispose of all the bad news in one go but missing one fact.

"We also have an attack on our F-16 squadron," said the President, capping off the extent of the bad news.

"I assumed you were already aware of that, Mr President. Just had Hank Richards on the phone, who wanted a visual," said Edmund.

"Sorry, Edmund. Of course. I shouldn't need to test your efficiency. What exactly is happening at CERN?" the President said, now focused.

"A shit load of drones, Mr President. The mothership's speed is still laboured, so at least that is not an issue. These drones are a worry."

"We are going to need the help of the Brits, and the Europeans, for that matter. Need to assess the collateral damage to our F-16 fleet, look to bring in the subs, pretty much all the firepower we have. Edmund, I need to ring off. Sorry, got to orchestrate a defence. Keep me informed. You're doing a fine job," said the President, thankful for the expert intelligence Edmund brought to the operation.

************************

The sight of Oosapeth, a holographic version, was overwhelming for Serenix, alias Elise, the proud daughter who desperately needed his approval. She was more like her father than her two brothers, Andrenes and Jukata. Serenix always wanted to emulate her father as a warrior.

Oosapeth spoke. Not one for formalities, he got straight to the point.

"You have my daughter, Vhastek. I want her returned!"

"Daughter?" Dane answered, puzzled. The whole room was in total disbelief. James looked at Elise, who returned the look. James, with more than a hint of confusion, feeling betrayed that Elise had not come forward with the truth.

This was not how Elise wished to be exposed. For the first time in her life, she was part of an operation. On her own and coping, on the good side. This was like a child in the middle of a game with her friends being told that dinner was being served, just as it was getting interesting.

The rest in the room turned to stare at this individual. A being of great importance, now an imposter.

************************

The squadron of F-16s had their target in sight. The instructions were to split into two groups once within the required range of 1,000 kilometres. The two targets were located beneath the ice. Thermal imaging from NASA had confirmed beyond doubt that the sites were inhabited. Each F-16 had a payload ready to unleash at will. The squadron leaders would be instructed as to which of the two sites to demolish. It could be both, depending on intelligence, which was hopefully to come from James Eaton.

The Oval Office was prepared, NASA was on alert, open dialogue between all members of the coalition to agree the final assault.

Still no news from either James Eaton or Bella Laurent; the member states feared the worst. Neither alien race could be trusted.

General Trey Hoffman, Chief of Staff of the US Air Force, liaised between Hank at Area 51 and the President. Hank was to relay any messages he might receive from James Eaton; Trey, in turn, ready to inform the Oval Office of the details of the operation in both Antarctica and the Amazon.

NASA had informed the President that thermal imaging in the Amazon suggested little or no activity. The general opinion was that Dane had abandoned the jungle. A small squadron peeled off early in the operation to deal with limited opposition near Peru. The focus was to eradicate the threat from the ice cap.

Squadron leader Tom Carter had the target within range. He glanced to his left, then to his right, a habit Tom had acquired some years ago. Even though he had visual of his squad members electronically, seeing his comrades with his own eyes gave him that extra reassurance. Tom was a man of precision: as the elder statesman of the squad, this commander demanded the utmost respect.

In his peripheral vision, Tom spotted the alien object, an oval-shaped machine darting about at great speed alongside the squadron.

Tom got an alert out to his squadron:

"Bogey at 47 degrees! Copy?"

"Three bogeys spotted, Rocket One. Copy."

It was clear that the UFOs were following, and in close proximity.

"Hold fire! You know the drill: jink (a manoeuvre to avoid a threat)," Tom conveyed to his squad.

Tom relayed back to Trey:

"We have company: ten UFOs. Not hostile. Over," said Tom.

"Roger," said Trey. "Do not open fire! Repeat: do not open fire!"

Tom spotted fire, a couple of the pilots responded, the retaliation was fierce and devastating. Two taken down.

"Two down," said Tom before the radio transmission was completely severed.

Tom lost contact, all radio communication supressed, control of his aircraft also lost. Tom, like the rest of his squadron, was now helpless, mere passengers of their own planes. The hostile fire also ceased, control of their payload was non-existent, presumably in the hands of the UFOs' technology.

The drones had gained complete control of their aircraft.

Once Trey lost contact with Tom, he feared that he had perished, killed by a mightier swordsman. Operation Freedom had taken a turn for the worse. The Russian contingent had been taken over and, unnervingly, the same appeared to have happened to their own contribution to the cause.

There was still no news from James or Bella to shed light on the enemy's plans. Trey called Hank to relay the developments. A decision had to be made. Did they now tie up more firepower - the stealth bombers at the base in Nevada, perhaps? Or would they, too, succumb to the superior technology of the aliens?

The President was informed immediately. For the moment, at least, the aliens were in control.
**CHAPTER 24**

**WORLD CRASH**

Edgar Richmond had not heard from Sophia since he was informed that she had returned safely from the abduction in St Peter's Square, Rome. He was told, despite many phone calls to the police and the American Embassy in Rome, that his daughter was in quarantine. He would be kept informed.

Edgar, as a successful trader on the New York Stock Exchange, was used to the concept that money buys everything. His contact list in the city was impressive. He exploited every source, the news networks, the mayor, even one or two major celebrity friends, yet nobody could shine a light on the welfare and safety of his beloved, adopted daughter. It was classified information.

It was now 23rd February, a week since the abduction in Rome. The news of Sophia's disappearance hit Edgar hard. He and Eleanor had joined Sophia at the _Pizza Taverna_ , as planned, for her birthday celebrations. Edgar was worried about her trip to Rome. He knew Sophia was stubborn, a quality which would ensure the success of her first Young Retreat Centre, but on this occasion it was less of an asset. Her disappearance ripped his heart out. Having saved her from a miserable existence, he was powerless this time.

Edgar called in on Emily most days. She was covering well in Sophia's absence, but the Centre was empty, soulless, functional but devoid of spirit.

The phone rang in Edgar's office.

Stevenson Hayes was a thriving brokerage, a wealth of high-flyers, slick, and the epitome of what made New York sing: high finance, wealth, greed, power, none of which seemed remotely important to Edgar lately.

There was a commotion outside the office. Edgar was used to the traders, but this time the noise was panic, not excitement.

The end of the financial market trading was swift. In an instant, the stock market exchanges shut down, as if a blackout had occurred, yet the electricity source was constant.

Not only New York but London, Tokyo, Shanghai, Hong Kong and Frankfurt. In fact, all the 16 major stock exchanges were electronically corrupted just as each trading house began to trade, across the world, as each time zone captured the bell to commence trading.

This was a bug designed to prevent trading, and it came from an alien source - an intelligence that the world's most sophisticated anti-virus program could not stop.

The source, unknown, had used the intelligence to completely shut down the entire financial network. It was the same alien source that had gained complete control of the Russian stealth bombers and the American F-16s.

This was predicted by James and Scott, the clones, at the briefing to the world's elite at Groom Lake. It was prophesied to be the brainchild of Dane Vhastek.

Edgar took the call from the CEO, Jeremy Drayzen. The time was 10.05am.

"Edgar, you checked your computer?"

Edgar immediately keyed in his secure code to access the market trading. There was no data, no trading, just a message on his screen:

_This is a warning: we have control of your trading systems. The market will resume in one hour. We will shut down your system tomorrow at precisely the same time. Be notified that your world leaders are aware._

"What the hell is this, Jeremy? Damn hackers!" said Edgar, angrily.

"I've checked with London; they have exactly the same message. They are five hours ahead, but the message appeared simultaneously with ours, as it did in Madrid, Frankfurt and Rome. Edgar, we all have different security systems, almost impossible to breach. There is no ransom; just the warning. What's this about world leaders?"

Edgar put the phone on loudspeaker, walked over to the window and placed his hands in his pockets. The view over the park was magnificent, yet he might as well have been gazing at a slum.

"Jeremy, this must have something to do with the abduction."

**********************************

The Oval Office held an emergency meeting, the mood sombre yet defiant.

"Control of our financial network is exactly what James and Scott predicted at the presentation. More worryingly, we have news from Edmund: NASA have confirmed that the site from where Daxzus broadcast his message seems to have been  destroyed. We have to assume that Dane Vhastek is seeing out the prophesy," was the President's opening statement.

"We must assume that Vhastek has James and Bella or they were killed in the destruction of Daxzus's site. It would make perfect sense that his henchmen murdered those at the base. So, he has control of our air force, the Russian stealth bombers, the world's financial infrastructure, not to mention far superior technology," said Argyle-Phillips. As Secretary of Defense, he was expected to follow the President's opening remarks.

The mood grew more pessimistic.

"Intelligence suggests the portal at CERN is being used to import more alien craft. We need to negotiate, Mr President, and quickly. If this Vhastek character shuts down our whole financial infrastructure, including our banks, there will be anarchy in the streets. Looting will follow. Our civilisation will be lawless in no time," said Eric, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his warning striking fear into everyone present at the meeting.

The Attorney General, Wayne Straddler, kept calm. Sizing up the unprecedented position, he made an observation.

"So, Dane Vhastek wants control of our planet. He has temporarily taken over our financial markets and seized control of our ability to fight back. He could have destroyed us by now, so why hasn't he? If he wants Earth, why not wipe us out as he clearly has with the Zaagans in Antarctica? Something doesn't feel right. Mr President, didn't Edmund say that they had picked up on a few jet-ski vehicles emerging from the Undarthian complex, heading towards the Zaagan hideout, only to return halfway towards Daxzus's site? Doesn't make sense to me."

"I agree. Also, there was an altercation with some drones as the jet-skis returned to the Undarthian base. Looks like one of Vhastek's men was a casualty. So, I guess the question  is: if you had annihilated your enemy, why would you venture towards the site you had just destroyed? Who do the drones belong to? NASA say they appeared out of nowhere. If Daxzus was destroyed, who in God's name sent the drones? These are the same drones appearing out of the cloud formation above CERN," said the President, rubbing his chin slowly, methodically, as he pondered his own questions.

The call came through from Jillian.

"It's Edmund, Mr President."

"Edmund, in a meeting right now, what do you have to report?"

"Mr President, the craft that entered via the portal at CERN have all headed up to Antarctica. Looks like they have destroyed the Undarthian site. Total carnage, Sir. Some 50 or so alien craft pulverised the site. Don't think anyone could have possibly survived an attack so vicious," said Edmund.

Shock rippled through those in the Oval Office. What exactly was going on?

The coalition had a new alien race to deal with, one capable of exterminating two alien threats. The question on everyone's lips was: are we now encountering an even bigger threat? This new alien race seemed to shoot and ask questions later. At least with Daxzus there was communication.

Eric shook his head, Julian rubbed his forehead profusely and Wayne simply said: "Plan B, anyone?" with just a hint of sarcasm.

****************

The trading floor resumed exactly one hour after the shutdown. All systems worked perfectly. The alien source had spoken, demonstrating a capability to shut down our way of life  whenever it suited. Those in power not too sure which to fear more: the physical or the software assault.

At Stevenson Hayes all was good. Edgar could resume work duties, those which he had mastered over many years. The qualities that afforded him an elegant lifestyle, the plush apartment on Lower East Side, the most sought-after neighbourhood in New York, where his daughter, Eleanor, would attend the finest private school, somehow weren't meaningful; his heart was empty. He had let Sophia go to Rome. Why hadn't he prevented her? He should have protected her, the Retreat Centre, the new lifestyle, the money, all to take her away from the dangers she faced, yet he just let her waltz off to Rome. The abduction: who could have possibly predicted such a peril? The return had given him hope, but he had heard nothing. He used to admire the establishment, a well-oiled machine; now he hated it. They had his precious stepdaughter, keeping her against her will at Area 51, Nevada.

The phone rang. Edgar assumed it was Jeremy, just a formality, confirming that all was back to normal. It wasn't, it was his personal assistant, Moira.

"I have a Mr Hank Richards from the military at Area 51 for you, Edgar."

She put him through. Edgar took the call standing up. He quickly sank into his chair, dropping the phone receiver on the desk. "No!" he screamed in a sickening tone, everyone in the office knew: Sophia was no longer.
**CHAPTER 25**

**THE DEAL**

The news that Elise was, in fact, Serenix, took Dane and the others in the ice cave by surprise. He had Annaluce to deal with, who had surely lost her father in the destruction of his Antarctic retreat. Now he also had Serenix, not to mention the human contingent. He wondered what other surprises might be in store.

Dane waved his hand in the direction of one of the many operatives who obeyed his every command resolutely. It was understood. Evacuate the War Room. As they were being ushered out, he beckoned James back with his index finger.

The message from Oosapeth was clear: he would make life difficult if Dane didn't carry out his orders to return his daughter. Dane needed to consider his position: what to do, how to deal with this conundrum.

"Our guest states her name as Elise. What is the basis of your information?" replied Dane to Oosapeth's demand to release his daughter, almost a stalling question.

New data from Oosapeth appeared; Dane opened the new file. It was the footage of the rescue operation on Zarduzian. It was conclusive.

"Am I to be punished for rescuing your daughter from the killing chambers?" enquired Dane. "How did you get this footage?"

"It was sent to us by an unknown source. The Council of the Light must have no record of this civilisation or they pre-date Doomsday. The footage is accurate; I verified it with Daxzus. I sent him back to Zarduzian to meet his death, then destroyed his operation in Antarctica."

The statement was blunt but clear and explained the explosion.

Dane processed the information. Daxzus had stitched up his ally. The fool: he had been caught out and dealt with, viciously, but understandably. This was not the time to play games; he needed to protect himself, but he was now wondering, like Oosapeth, about the new threat. Could they possibly join forces?

Dane looked at the holographic image of the war game playing out. He had spotted the drones heading his way from the portal at CERN. It was only a matter of time. To activate the protective force field above the ice caves would give temporary relief from the laser attack, but would not hold out indefinitely.

"The unknown source is a threat to both of us, Oosapeth. I have your daughter, but it is based on good intention. The unknown source is aggressive and making its way here, to attack. We have a portal and will meet on Zanakisco, my planet. I will return home, with your daughter, to gather a fleet and put together a plan to combat the unknown aliens. We have a footprint on Earth, so we have no choice but to protect the civilisation. Do we have an agreement?" asked Dane.

Oosapeth was at his residence on Xenon. The image of Serenix in the killing chamber haunted him. Dane had saved  his daughter's life, unknowingly. He considered the offer; he had always secretly admired Dane Vhastek and was pleased that she wasn't in the hands of that weasel Daxzus.

He had no choice but to agree to Dane's request, if he stood a chance of seeing his daughter again.

"I need your assurance, then, that we register a mutual interest in planet Earth with the Council of the Light; terms to be agreed later," said Oosapeth, wanting to propose a formal agreement, in case Dane had decided against an honourable outcome, knowing in reality it wasn't necessary.

"No need. This record of dialogue will keep us both in check. We will return your daughter safely. We might want to use your new toy to deal with the new alien threat" - a bone was thrown in the direction of his new ally. Dane knew the portal amplifier may be the ammunition needed to stave off the unknown alien's unhealthy interest in Earth.

"Hand my daughter back safely first," replied Oosapeth. He was non-committal.

"Agreed. Our move is one of haste; we will evacuate with as much as we can carry, then our ice caves will be destroyed. Not going to give the unknown aliens the pleasure. See you on Zanakisco. Co-ordinates will be forwarded. We will meet in the capital, Oramius. I will advise Serenix." The message was clear: abort the mission, re-evaluate, hopefully gain a valued ally in the battle to save Earth.

Oosapeth considered the offer, his mind processing the permutations. This was going to be complex. He would need all armoury possible at his disposal.

He called for Marrazeth in his private quarters.

"We are visiting Dane Vhastek on Zanakisco. The capital is Oramius, the location co-ordinates have been advised. We must move immediately. He has my daughter."

Marrazeth knew that logic did not exist at this moment, but he needed specifics.

"Are we taking a fleet?"

"One ship, initially. I will travel with a contingent of 12 fighters. You will lead the command of another ship. We cannot take on their entire force. You will take a portal amplifier and position the ship deep into the planet's atmosphere. Be ready to create a tear in the space-time fabric to move their planet, if all goes wrong. That will be our threat if my daughter is not returned," said Oosapeth.

"The time differential?" asked Marrazeth.

"Set your ship at 50 space mectars." (A mectar is the time difference between two locations in space.) "Time enough for me to reach Oramius, settle the negotiations and return. Find the nearest natural portal to the planet Zanakisco, in case we don't return. You know the drill," said Oosapeth.

Oosapeth continued to view the holographic image, his mind clearly elsewhere as Marrazeth left the room. He played out the potential outcomes in his mind, each one with a contingency plan; his strategising was legendry. This most important meeting would not fail. Serenix would be on Xenox, of that he had no doubt.

Dane Vhastek looked at the ice caves for one last time. His operatives had loaded much of the equipment into the spacecraft, the base in Antarctica only large enough to house one craft.

On board were Serenix, Annaluce, James Eaton, Bella Laurent, Kosuke Hanazawa, Demitri Mikhailov, Patrick O'Donoghue and Scott McCabe, who, now very much on the mend, was able to travel without aid. All personnel, including Dane's operatives, were also safely on board the ship. Dane had set the self-destruct mechanism to activate by the time the  unknown alien source would arrive at his base. He also set the device to self-destruct on impact of the first hostile fire.

Dane boarded the craft, taking prime position in the cockpit capsule. This blue halo portal usage would be the last - it would be destroyed with the ice caves. The craft shuddered; they were on their way.

Dane had three portals on Earth: the one he was about to destroy in Antarctica; another he was sure would be destroyed in the Amazon; and one as an insurance where nobody would expect - the one he would use to re-enter, if needed.

The shuddering ceased, the computer systems changed, the alien landscape now appeared on the screens. They had arrived in the capital, Oramius.

James could not believe he had travelled many light years to a distant planet quicker than he could cross a road on Earth. 'Out of this world' was suddenly a phrase with literal meaning.

The doors opened, the harnesses released; the humans were about to set foot on another planet.

Annaluce was less overwrought; for her, space travel was no more exhilarating than a bus ride, yet there was fear: how safe would she be? Dane had given her a private briefing about her father, his betrayal, the gruesome surprise awaiting him once Oosapeth had returned him to Zarduzian. She trusted Dane, ironically, but would the dynamics change with the emergence of Oosapeth? The next moments would hold the answer.

Zanakisco was like nothing imaginable, thought James. The ship had landed in a holding bay with spacecraft identical to Dane's scattered everywhere. Their ship had returned through the portal and was being moved systematically by a huge robotic conveyor belt to its place in a designated bay. James looked along the line of spacecraft: every hundred metres was another portal accommodating more craft.

The heat was intense, the sky blue, the sun bright. There were three moons that James could see immediately, much smaller than Earth's moon yet visible, bright in the alien sky.

The spacecraft bays were situated close to the major capital, which was filled with high-rise buildings - robust, exquisitely beautiful, round with dome-shaped roofs. Large pillars reached up to the sky at impossible heights. They must have been close to a desert, the wind filled with sand, some of the spacecraft in the bays were covered. This planet was very similar to Earth.

Dane and his companions were greeted by several Undarthians. Dane spoke, pointed in the general direction of his captives and then issued some orders. His guests were ushered away from the craft and escorted by the Undarthian marshals to a holding area.

Shuttle transportation arrived in the form of a hovering toboggan with a transparent, cylindrical roof. The toboggan was the size of single-decker bus on Earth and hovered without wheels or a rail beneath it. Doors opened in the middle of the toboggan; Dane and his compatriots entered. The cool within the transporter was a blessed relief from the heat. Seats were all along one side of the craft, which faced forward and rotated 180 degrees towards the passengers, positioning themselves for the passengers to sit. All those from the spacecraft took a seat. They were immediately harnessed in, each seat having its own screen. Graphics located their precise location, the destination point illustrated in blue on a grid.

The craft moved with incredible speed; the destination plotted on their screen was nearing. Passing the many other toboggans reminded James of rush hour at home, yet these craft were travelling at Formula 1 speed with no collisions.

Bella, Kosuke, Patrick, Demitri, Scott and James looked in awe at this alien planet; the city was immense, the buildings  indescribable. Where were they heading? What would this new adventure bring? When would they return to Earth? Portal travel was now as common as using a taxi. How, in such a short space of time, could these few individuals have come so far? What would Sophia have made of this alien land? A daunting thought.

The toboggan stopped. The harnesses released immediately and Dane rose. The building was a massive circular dome, surrounded by steps leading up to huge copper doors, standing five metres high, decorated with hieroglyphs. The steps looked like black granite; the dome silver. The doors were guarded by up to 20 Undarthians dressed in black, moulded suits and long capes reaching the floor. James immediately likened the guards to Roman centurions, but of the future.

The building was set in a gigantic square with strange floor markings. In the square were two impressive waterfalls, free standing; a waterfall emanating from nothing, cascading from a height of at least 30 metres, a fall that self-generated with no pool at the foot and no water pouring into it, just suspended. Splendid bronze sculptures surrounded the square, holograms played out hieroglyphic messages, accompanied by strange melodic sounds. Civilians were milling around the square, some in groups, some just wandering. The clothes were very Roman like, the long gowns, the pretentious gold jewellery, the only distinction being the netting covering their faces, which was merely a practicality in the searing heat. This was Zanakisco in all its glory.

Up the steps they walked and then in through the enormous entrance. Inside was spectacular, the dome ceiling high, adorned with ornate images, more hologram images mapping out the Undarthian propagation throughout the cosmos. Dane was considered a god. This was a peaceful place, one far removed from the prisons, called 'capitals', that the Zaagans endured.

They were led to a great hall, a table, semi-circular, occupied a large proportion of this magnificent room. Sitting around the table and dressed in white-and-gold gowns were the elders. Dane was greeted with a warm embrace; he was a hero carrying their hopes and desires to enrich the universe. Those accompanying Dane were seated behind him, whilst Dane occupied the front seat opposite the Council of the Elders.

Special, revolutionary bands were placed on the heads of the humans, as well as Annaluce and Serenix, and fixed to the ear. This was for the benefit of translation. The headband had a single bar running across the mouth, sitting approximately two inches in front of it. They were all equipped to participate in the meeting.

The main elder, Trancior Pretozius, entered. He was accompanied by two elders holding huge sceptres with the emblem of the Council of the Light at the top, a globe emblem with hieroglyphics depicting their motto, 'Let the light be as life and life be as the light; the one truth'.

Trancior sat, then everyone else sat. He opened up the talks:

"Dane, our trusted warrior, welcome home. What is there to tell?"

Dane looked behind him at his guests to acknowledge their valued presence, turned back to the elder and responded:

"Earth, our propagated planet, is under siege from an unknown source. The Zaagans have fled - the Trollozytes saw to that - now they wish to discuss a trade," said Dane, aptly summing up the position.

"Our guests include Annaluce Zaetsalsae, daughter of Zaagan, Daxzus. We are also joined by Serenix, daughter of the Trollozyte, Oosapeth, whom you are familiar with. She is to be returned to her father in exchange for his assistance," said  Dane, who at that moment cared not to divulge how Serenix had come into his possession.

That seemed to be enough information for the elders to consider.

"What of the Trollozyte trade?" said the elder.

"Oosapeth will be our guest, shortly. We are to return his daughter as promised. We will discuss terms on his arrival."

"This unknown source: how dangerous are they?" asked Trancior.

"We cannot evaluate. This source must be an old civilisation. That could mean either limited technology or far superior. Before we discuss a trade, what additional capacity do we have available to support this mission?" Dane was seeking an indication of the hardware resources potentially at his disposal.

The elders leant towards each other, whispering numbers, relaying their thoughts to the senior elder. A few moments passed.

"We have committed our resources to 12 planets. Our support for the Earth venture would not be enough to support an all-out war."

"Oosapeth will want a proportion of Earth's resources. The planet is currently under siege; their commercial infrastructure will be compromised. We have no alternative but to offer support and liaise with the humans. Their representatives are here. They can assist, act as arbitrators with their species," perfectly straightforward for Dane.

He then moved on to a more delicate matter: "The Zaagan attendant here isn't a threat; I believe she is in danger." He looked at Annaluce, almost embarrassed.

"We have no ill feeling towards the Zaagan. Have you asked her if she wants to return home?"

Dane looked around and glanced. Annaluce locked into the eyes of her captor.

She arose and addressed the elder:

"I would like to return home. There will be a power struggle following my father's death. If they fear that I am no longer, then control could get into the wrong hands." The translator worked perfectly. "I wish your race no harm - we adhere to the Council of the Light. My father's treachery is unforgivable."

Dane made a request to the elders:

"Annaluce will accompany me to Earth to fulfil the right to protect our footprint. I will ensure her safe return to Zarduzian once our objective is complete."

The elders again consulted. Dane and Annaluce engaged in eye contact - he understood that she did not want to leave his side just yet. She needed time with Dane on Earth to discuss matters before returning home. Dane was secretly hopeful that she wished to keep his company indefinitely.

"We will await the arrival of Oosapeth and discuss Annaluce once a plan of action with the Trollozytes is agreed.

The doors to the main hall opened, an Undarthian entered and announced the arrival of Oosapeth. The elders consulted, nodded to their messenger at the door, indicating their approval.

Oosapeth entered, followed by six aides; he was not taking any chances. Their armoury had been confiscated, but he had the legal assurance under the binding terms of the Council of the Light that his visit would be safe, both entering and exiting the planet. He was here for two reasons: the release of his daughter and to salvage something from a bad outcome with Daxzus. He held the power - he had the portal amplifiers, except the one still missing.

Serenix saw her father. He glanced at her but protocol did not quite permit an embrace. Oosapeth bowed before the elders. He could speak some basic Undarthian, enough to negotiate.

"May I greet my daughter?" a formality of a request, no species would deny him his rights.

Trancior nodded.

The embrace was all that Oosapeth had wanted since her departure. He desperately needed to spend time discussing her welfare as well as the details of her abduction, even though it pained him. His craft, carrying the portal amplifier, was missing. In the wrong hands, with access to the codes, it would devalue his galactic power. This was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. Right now, he needed to strike a deal.

Dane stood facing the elders, as did Oosapeth. This was awkward: both were looking to the arbitrators for an opening statement to diffuse the tension.

Trancior sensed the friction, looked across at his comrades and placed his hands on the table in front of him at shoulder width.

"What intention do you have with the planet Earth?" a question directed at Oosapeth.

"I find myself in a difficult position as I have no special interest in this planet. I do know that the alien invasion on Earth is from an unknown source; it will be a challenge. I will assist, help you prevail, but at a cost."

Dane looked at Oosapeth, soon to be comrade. It was tempting to override his offer and deny the need for a partner, but he, like Oosapeth, was concerned about the unknown alien race. Oosapeth was formidable and the portal amplifier a great weapon; he would leave the negotiating to the elders.

"What exactly are you looking for in return?" said Trancior. He was aware of the need for additional hardware, even though most of his military was otherwise occupied.

"You will forego a planet, one with your footprint, one of my choice. Terms will be agreed and authorised by the Council of the Light."

Oosapeth wasn't enticed by a resource share, the deal he had originally agreed with Annaluce's father. He had lost the  appetite for a replica deal.

"What resources can you offer in return?" the elder asked.

"We have two bases on Earth which would be useful, and up to 1,000 ships." Oosapeth paused, as if the last item was still under debate in his mind. "And," he paused some more, "the use of a portal amplifier."

Dane looked around, almost in disbelief - he had expected strenuous negotiations.

"Agreed. Sort out the battle plan with Dane. We will draw up the transfer of rights to your chosen planet." Trancior brought the elders' involvement to a close. The elders rose, bowed to Dane, Oosapeth and the guests before departing.

Serenix immediately walked over to her father, hugged him one more time and announced her wishes. Not what her father had expected.

"I want to return to Earth with Dane." She held hands with James Eaton. Her father knew that this was a battle he couldn't win.

************************

The banquet to celebrate Dane Vhastek's safe return, as well as quantify the alliances between the various species fighting a common cause, was held in the main square.

The square outside the council buildings was packed with banquet tables, filled with exotic food and drink. The food a mixture of the fruits and vegetables of the planet, meat of many kinds, cooked in delicate spices; it was a sight to behold. The square was surrounded by guards, but they weren't armed - that wasn't necessary. Drones, about a metre wide, hovered about five metres high, ready to be called upon to deliver food and drink to the guests. The waterfalls in the square lit up with splendid colour; the setting was awesome.

For the banquet, guests were dressed for the occasion: the men in togas, the women in long gowns, a low front, barely any gown covering their backs, in wonderful bright colours of blue, yellow and red. Serenix and Annaluce were adorned with special tiaras to recognise their status. The city's most recognised citizens were invited, beautiful male and female Undarthians were shown off, naked, wandering around the square; the Undarthians were very open about their bodies.

James couldn't keep his eyes off Serenix any more than she could keep her eyes off him. Her father was watching intently. James looked splendid in his robes and Serenix divine in her bright yellow gown, showing off her perfect figure. She looked every bit a princess with a bright yellow-and-red tiara elegantly displayed. In a less obvious manner, when appropriate, Dane glanced admiringly at Annaluce.

The elders mixed and made small talk. For the benefit of the banquet, though, nothing about the Earth operation was discussed. The entertainment consisted of a spectacular light display. Holograms were projected depicting the universe, highlighting the planets the Undarthians had propagated. Battles played out, creatures from various planets re-created; the spectacle was quite something.

The weather was hot, fountains of water appearing as if from nowhere, popping up from the ground at the click of a finger to quench the guests' thirst or to cleanse their fingers after dining.

James Eaton, like the other humans at the banquet, was mesmerised by the strange music. Instruments were played yet they weren't tangible - they were laser-projected images. Strange shapes appeared in various colours, multi-circular shapes, triangular shapes, numerical-type figures, all of which created different sounds simply by the player making strange  configurations with his hands in the holographic laser image, like a conductor. The sounds had a beat, an array of sounds, as many as an orchestra. The effect was simply wonderful.

The banquet was a success. The guests ate and drank well, then were escorted to their quarters for some well-earned rest. Tomorrow they would travel in unison back to Earth.

Oosapeth made sure his precious daughter would not go missing again. He wasn't sure which he feared the most: his daughter being abducted by Daxzus or the new threat, James Eaton.
**CHAPTER 26**

**EARTH - LIVING HELL**

NASA confirmed that both sites in Antarctica had been destroyed. The drones were headed to the Amazon to complete the final piece of the jigsaw: destroy Dane Vhastek's second base.

The crater confirmed to NASA that all known alien sites were destroyed. The final base had been wiped out by the unknown alien source. Impressive.

The portal at CERN was awash with alien craft entering Earth's atmosphere, a mixture of drones and spacecraft. The drones were dangerous enough, the spacecraft much more powerful. The craft were upwards of 150 metres long, formidable and robust, grey and black in colour. Each craft a war machine, housing alien warriors, the obligatory hieroglyphics and markings to identify their origin displayed clearly on the outer side of the ships, but these weren't registered with the Council of the Light.

In addition to the drones and spacecraft entering via the CERN portal, this alien race had further resources, housed in an enormous mothership heading in Earth's direction.

These craft originated from a planet belonging to a solar system with one star approximately 93 million miles away. This planet was no ordinary planet.

The planet from whence the unknown alien source originated was much closer to home than Zarduzian or Xenox: it _was_ home.

Earth!

The warships and drones had split, making their way around the globe. NASA had full surveillance, not that there was much they could do about it. It seemed evident that the ships were strategically adopting a position near the major capitals of the world. The drones, pint-sized in comparison with the warships, hovered collectively around their mothership, seemingly available to further enhance a plan of destruction.

The UFOs blatantly displaying their hostility for all to see, there was no doubt that this was confrontational, designed to put beyond doubt their existence, their purpose. No one could possibly guess that their origin was Earth.

Edmund called the President. He took the call.

"Edmund, what is the update?" said the President, an ominous tone encompassing every word.

"Not good, I'm afraid, Mr President. Both sites at Antarctica plus the base in the Amazon have been completely destroyed. There is no sign of either alien or human life. The Earth's atmosphere is engulfed with alien craft, seemingly on a path to occupy the major capitals. We have no sight of either the F-16 or stealth aircraft. Whatever we thought of the Zaagans or Undarthians, this appears to be a far more challenging opponent," the same ominous tone mirrored by Edmund.

"We can hide from the public no longer; it's all over the worldwide news. Thank you for the information, Edmund, but could you excuse me whilst I confer with the other world leaders?" This time, a resignation in the President's tone.

************************

The date was 23th February 2018. Hank had returned from his investigative exploration of the base at Area 51. The Undarthian ship was intact; the other ship, which had turned up in the desert around the same time, was dormant. Hank was fascinated by the weird machinery mid-ship on the second craft. Without the assistance of James Eaton's magic phone app, Hank had no method of deciphering its origin. What kept playing in his mind was why the cloned James Eaton had made his way to the Undarthian ship at Area 51 and not this other unknown spacecraft.

Hank sat at his now-familiar computer, looking for clues, which was difficult when he didn't know what clues to look for. He had received no text from James Eaton. Nothing. He had no idea if he was alive or dead. The President had reminded him periodically to let him know the instant James or any of the others made contact.

Suddenly, huge explosion sounds reverberated around the base. Hank looked out of his window immediately. He could see several large ships, about 150 metres long, hovering about two metres from the ground, deploying alien beings onto the base, maybe 20 or 30 of them.

Hank ignored the commotion and rang the President.

Outside, alien warriors walked towards the hangar where the alien craft was parked. These warriors were human in appearance, dressed in black with white combat garments with protective helmets. The body armour heavy duty, an undergarment covered with a body-fitting outer shell. Each warrior carried a weapon which emitted a strong pulse, shattering anything in its range. To add to their armoury, laser weapons, cleverly concealed within their garments, thrust a beam of high-intensity laser fire at the opponent by merely pointing at a target. On their backs were small jets, which allowed full flight mobility, to dodge incoming fire.

The warriors did not run but walked. The firepower from the military at the base merely bounced off each alien; a protective shield enveloped each warrior. One shot from their embroidered laser weapon destroyed everything in its path.

The warriors moved to the hangar housing the portal amplifier, recently acquired, the ship Hank had examined just moments earlier. An electronic signal from one of the warriors opened the hanger door with ease. Simultaneously the door in the belly of the craft opened and several alien warriors entered. Other warriors floated effortlessly, using the jets, dissembling the hydraulics suspending the craft in the hangar. Several Area 51 military entered, shots were fired, this time laser rather than stun shots, instantly wiping out their opponent. The military did not stand a chance - they were a minor annoyance whilst these highly trained aliens went about their task.

The Trollozyte craft was alive and these aliens had seized control. The warriors, suspended through jet-pack propulsion, exited the base back towards the mothership. The Trollozyte craft had been acquired, was airborne and gone in a flash.

Hank looked out of his window. He had the President on the line.

"Affirmative. An alien craft has been taken, Mr President," said Hank. "Not the Undarthian craft, but the other one we rescued. All very strange, if you ask me."

Hank looked outside the window for a second time; debris covered the base. In amongst the destruction lay several fatalities - brave soldiers trying to prevent the theft of the alien craft; men who went beyond the call of duty. As quickly as the aliens had come they were gone.

Sebastian and Edmund were scrutinising the movement of these hostile aliens. Satellite imaging portrayed a daunting scene: the alien craft clearly and strategically adopting a position  above the Earth's most influential capitals. The craft, moving at speeds well beyond our capability, made it challenging for NASA to monitor their movement. Strangely, they did not adopt a position of outright enticement. Whilst an obvious offensive, their distance above the capitals was one which the human eye could not detect. This was an interesting turning point. The aliens had not yet attacked our civilisation and appeared to be biding their time.

Jillian called through to the President.

"I have the Russian interpreter on the line."

The President took the call.

"We have no response to this blatant alien hostility. Our stealth bombers are still out of action. Have you heard from any of those abducted?" a hopeful question.

"Afraid not, and we are out of ideas, too. The public will suspect an attack. The other aliens seem to be out of the picture. Without any contact from James Eaton, we have no intelligence to formulate a plan," replied the President.

There was a silence as both men contemplated their position. The time in New York 3:34pm; in Moscow 10:34pm. The sunshine bathing Washington could portray any ordinary day; the flood-lit Kremlin an epitome of calm. Both nations, however, braced for a battle, of which the outcome was now a formality. Very much the calm before the storm.

The American President dearly wanted to inject some optimism but was struggling.

Jillian ran into the Oval Office. This wasn't ordinary protocol, but then these were extraordinary circumstances. To interrupt a call with the only other man on the planet influential enough to challenge the President of the United States of America was an instant dismissal in normal circumstances, but in this case, it was more a promotion.

"I have James Eaton on the line, Mr President," said Jillian, a little out of breath.
**CHAPTER 27**

**RESURRECTION**

The operation had gone well. The recovery time, the normal stipulated 36 hours, Earth time. This procedure had gone exactly the same way as the previous, identical surgeries; the mechanical robots never failed. The brain transplant was monitored and expertly administered. The cloned body of Daxzus was one of many stored, ready to extend his lifespan for many hundreds of Zarduzian years.

The Death Baiter who heard his cry for help was decorated to the highest order, freedom of all of the 37 capitals, a floating city of his desire, a bride of his choosing, as well as the pick of the most sought-after real estate in Larquiston. To say Daxzus was grateful was an understatement.

Daxzus had time to think: a new lease of life, time to plan a sadistic revenge. Oosapeth would pay.

The cloned versions of the seven captives from the abandoned Trollozyte ship on Trentaquin, including Serenix, were alive and well. Daxzus knew that the intelligence transfer - an integral part of the cloning procedure - would uncover the secret code to initialise the portal amplifier. The clones would not resist interrogation. The escape of Serenix had been unfortunate, but he had her clone.

Daxzus wanted to torture the cloned Serenix, kill her in the most evil and painful way imaginable, but she was more use to him alive, at least for the moment. The agony of his time spent with the lowly squalors would always be with him as a painful reminder of her father's treachery.

The seven clones, including Serenix, were paraded in front of Daxzus, a reinvigorated, healthy, younger version. Annaluce was missing; Dane Vhastek had taken care of that. Her penthouse apartment, the last place she occupied before her kidnap, was the most obvious choice to interrogate the clones. A stark reminder of the injustice, the memories of the many rooftop banquets, the Death Baiter Games they had shared together, just the ammunition Daxzus needed to keep focused on the task in hand.

Daxzus had addressed the clones in his daughter's apartment, explained that he merely needed to gather some information. Each clone would be questioned individually, on the rooftop.

The first engineer was escorted to the planned interrogation area. A warm smile greeted the clone. Daxzus began.

"You are special," a positive opening statement from Daxzus, designed to relax the clone. "Could you state your name?"

The clone, as was normal practice, had all the intelligent data from the alien host, in this case a Trollozyte engineer, which also included a toxic mix of Zaagan intelligence and Trollozyte super-intelligence. The clone spoke in Daxzus's native tongue.

"My clone name is Cederon Jammas," a clear and precise answer.

"What was your mission to Trentaquin?"

"To recover the abandoned craft and return it safely through the portal," again precise.

"You were given codes. Do you remember the sequence?" Daxzus not wanting to labour on formalities.

"I do." This was not as taxing as the cloned version of Cederon had expected.

The code was spoken and recorded. The clone, dressed in a one-piece suit, an ultra-marine blue, the same size as his Trollozyte original, was an impressive figure. His flight suit fitted perfectly; he flew through the Zarduzian night sky with ease. The flight co-ordinates had been logged by Daxzus before he was pushed from the 1,000-foot sky scraper. The gauze stuffed in his mouth, courtesy of one of Daxzus's henchmen, ensured a silent flight straight over the force field, to a stable landing on the other side of the wall.

The ultra-marine suit, now a deep red, was spread over a large area, not nearly as appealing. The arms and legs of the suit torn off, mirroring the clone's body parts. A feast was taking place. The squalors were thankful. For once, Daxzus unintentionally had their interests at heart. Five more meals were awaiting delivery to the starving on the other side of the wall.

The codes had been extracted from the tortured clones - valuable information - he was one step away from recovering the Trollozyte ship from Area 51, this time with the operating instructions to hand. The clones were proving useful.

Serenix, the clone, stood steadfast, assured, ready to deal with the interrogation.

Daxzus stared, taking in the astounding likeness of the clone. It was remarkable. This clone had bargaining power.

The language was Zaagan. The rapport began but was not friendly.

"Your colleagues have given me their codes; you know what codes I mean? We have rewarded them; they enjoy great pleasures," said Daxzus, the deceit even astounding himself.

The cloned Serenix had all the attributes of the original: a little defiant, obtuse.

"I will not give you any codes until I see my comrades," said the clone, fearing that the truth was not forthcoming from her interrogator.

"They are away from here, in another part of the city. I can assure you that they are being treated well," said Daxzus, in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Take me to them and then I will give you the codes. The codes are nothing unless you have the complete set. Only by having the full set are you assured that you would have the correct single code sequence. Only one individual has the correct single code sequence; you therefore need each sequence of each individual."

Daxzus knew this to be true. He could threaten to feed her to the squalors but the game would be up and he wouldn't have the full codes to activate the portal amplifier."

"I don't understand. Don't you want to be free like your comrades, free to live the life of your choice?"

"This is a godforsaken place. This is not a world of my liking. I either get what I want or the codes die with me!"

Daxzus had seen a touch of Annaluce in the clone; he hated that trait in his daughter. He knew exactly how to deal with it.

The clone's usefulness diminished instantly as his rage ensued. Daxzus obtained the codes, making a full set. The full operating instructions extracted from her counterparts gave Daxzus the key to Pandora's box.

There was just one distinct difference between the original Serenix and the Zaagan clone who faced him: one would be able to converse; the other would never be insubordinate again. The only decision left for Daxzus was whether to catapult the extra piece of meat to the squalors. Tongue, he had heard, was a delicacy. The tongue was launched.

Zaagans weren't renowned for their combat ability. Daxzus had lost his ally, Oosapeth, but Earth had now become his only purpose. He would have to return. The portal in the ice caves was destroyed. The nearest natural space portal was within the Earth's solar system, from which he could access Earth, create another portal, find a suitable location, bring in further backup and execute his plan.

This time his approach would be different: no partners, no trade-offs.

Oosapeth's bases on Earth were well established. Earth had been visited many times by alien races over a considerable time period. Most alien bases steered clear of the natives of the planet and Oosapeth was no exception. Of the two bases, the volcano in Mexico was the best choice. A base hidden inside an active volcano was not subject to the same indefensibility as ice caves in Antarctica. The base was reinforced, built within a natural access point of the volcano, difficult to monitor, impossible to detect a life form, due to the heat the volcano emits. Ingenious as far as Oosapeth was concerned; a worry for the human captives. Inside a volcano seemed insane.

The posse, who were ready to take on the unknown alien beings currently wreaking havoc on Earth, arrived at the base safely. The volcanic hideout was equipped with its own portal. Nothing had been overlooked.

Oosapeth showed his allies and guests to their quarters. The battle ahead would be tough, and not being sure of their opposition's capabilities was the major obstacle. A reconnaissance mission was in order, Oosapeth and Dane the obvious choice. The humans, as well as Annaluce and Serenix, would join them. An understanding of the terrain was important, knowledge of the geography essential. The real test was observing the unknown source without being shot down.

The craft was different from the Undarthian ship but impressive. This was a smaller spaceship than the Trollozyte craft housing the portal amplifier, more of an exploratory craft than military. The humans had become used to travel in an alien craft - this was like sampling a ride in an Aston Martin having just exited a Porsche Cayenne.

With flight instruments initiated, passengers harnessed in, the exit from the volcano would be scary.

The vision from the craft was 360 degrees. The speed of travel was nothing less than sensational. A wall of black surrounded the craft as it navigated effortlessly through a tunnel, which must have been several hundred feet long. A masterpiece of ingenuity, they exited the volcano and rose to several thousand feet into the outer atmosphere, in seconds. The g-force within the capsule seemed non-existent - must be the same anti-gravitational expertise most of the other alien craft had mastered. James thought the anti-gravity device must be like air-con in a car.

In a matter of minutes they were over the United States. The air was clear; night was the best time to fly. James viewed the United States, the cities, lights, the abundance of life, undeterred, unthreatened.

The on-board flight radar indicated unknown craft over New York, even more hovering at high altitudes over Washington. A pattern was emerging.

"They're covering the major cities," said James, keen to get his observation out there. He was sure, though, that the aliens in his craft were way ahead of him. This was a fact-finding mission, the on-board technology would gather the data, nothing would be second-guessed, yet this task to rid the Earth of a hostile invader seemed more daunting than ever.

************************

Following the intrusion from Jillian, the call from James Eaton was passed through to the President.

"Mr President, we are all safe. The plan is changing by the minute," said James. Realising it was an obvious statement, he wished he could be more pragmatic.

"James, where are you? We need intelligence, we need alien assistance. The hostile aliens are poised to strike. Whoever they are, we don't have the technology to challenge them," said the President, sincerely hoping he was speaking with someone who could help.

"We are aware of the invasion. Two alien races are willing to help us. The aliens currently converging on our planet are of unknown origin. We are going on a fact-finding mission. You will hear more from me later."

"When?" the President wasn't taking any chances. He needed to know precisely when he would get an update. The time was just past 9pm.

"Meet at your base in Maryland, the retreat at Camp David. Seems remote enough. We will be armed, so warn off your military. I have assured my comrades that you will be accommodating. If you agree, we'll meet tomorrow morning at 9am sharp."

"Agreed! Who can we expect?" the President in his mind already thinking through the itinerary for the 69-mile trip north-west. What would he take? Who would he take?

"Expect the unexpected!" James couldn't be sure himself what the morning would bring.
**CHAPTER 28**

**THE RETREAT**

The time was precisely 9am. It came around much more quickly than anticipated.

The President was joined by two of his trusted staff: Julian Argyle-Phillips, the Secretary of Defense and Eric Miller, the Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff, who would be a privileged part of this momentous event. Wayne Straddler, the Attorney General, would remain at the White House as a confidant to the President.

The agenda had been set, agreed, the participants knew their task. James Eaton was to act as lead negotiator between Dane Vhastek and those who would assume him to be the enemy, until otherwise convinced. This wasn't going to be easy. James wasn't sure what reception Dane might receive. They were armed for conflict, as had been announced, in case the meeting degenerated into a hostile environment. Dane certainly hoped it wouldn't.

The woodlands at Camp David made a perfect destination for an obscure meeting, heavily guarded with the hills of the Catoctin Mountain Park, Maryland, offering at least some anonymity.

The President had ignored protocol, choosing not to announce this meeting to the rest of the coalition. As usual, espionage was a real threat, constantly in the thoughts of one of  the most powerful men on the planet. His Russian counterpart would have acted in precisely the same manner, given the opportunity, at least that was the convenient excuse his advisors had used to justify the rationale, an act to primarily protect the interests of the United States.

Camp David had the board table; recognisable to the public and a place where many important announcements had been made by previous presidents. Whether the public would believe the authenticity of this meeting was debateable; if they were ever to find out.

There was a lot to catch up on; information which the coalition on Earth hadn't been privy to. James would redress the balance. The clones who held the meeting at Area 51, for example, quite how the remaining authentic humans would convince a sceptical board that this wasn't yet another deception would take all of James's negotiating skills, limited as they were. The posse on their way to Camp David, courtesy of the Trollozyte space taxi Oosapeth provided, weren't sure what information the welcoming committee might be aware of, making setting an agenda virtually impossible.

Oosapeth had admonished James. A meeting with his fellow humans was irrelevant, risky, unnecessary and a waste of valuable time. The enemy was poised to strike an unknown alien source, they had no clear plan and yet James had insisted on including his civilisation in this unlikely alliance.

Serenix backed James. Dane Vhastek tended to side with Oosapeth, but was torn. A decision was made: Oosapeth, as agreed, would organise the military hardware to tackle the aggressors, using the portal at the mountain base. He would return home, leaving this farce of a meeting to the others. For the first time, he began to question the wisdom of agreeing to assist.

The Trollozyte spacecraft used to taxi the group to Maryland was inconspicuous. Oosapeth had mastered surveillance of other planets undetected; Earth was no different. The craft was small, nimble, able to cover vast distances quickly. Their technology vastly superior than anything Dane had seen, the craft used the environment to render itself invisible and no sound was emitted. The US military would not be aware that the spacecraft had landed in the woodland, near Camp David's Catoctin Mountain Park. Contrary to popular belief on Earth, authentic aliens are ferociously and deviously intelligent: they navigate planets largely unnoticed; this trip was mere child's play.

The spacecraft landed. The occupants mounted their smaller mobile craft, known to the Trollozytes as a Dorker. A well-equipped craft, already synced to the operator's retina. The craft could not be stolen. Voice activated to recover the craft, if needed, for a swift exit should a dangerous situation arise, silent in motion to fool any foe. Fully laser-fire proof, a protective shield activated immediately upon detection of enemy fire. Housing up to four occupants, it was approximately three metres long by two metres high. Once mounted, the front visor rose from the chassis, a holographic image filled the visor with a perfect map of the terrain and complicated readings none of the humans could fathom. The Dorker mirrored the environment perfectly, rendering it almost invisible once the visor extended to cover the whole vehicle when in motion. Their arrival to the 'upper terrace', an extension of the 'sun room' at the lodge, should go undetected.

Five Dorkers were at the ready, piloted by Dane Vhastek and four other Undarthians. Whilst the Dorker had similar technology to their Cyclon, this would be an exhilarating ride for the Undarthians - a new toy.

Annaluce, Bella and Patrick, a pillion to Dane; Kosuke, Scott and Demitri on the second Dorker with another Undarthian pilot; James, Serenix and a comrade of Dane on a third Dorker.

The other two Dorkers, manned by a single Undarthian, would be sent ahead to explore the terrain, ensure the mission's safety. This was a tactic often adopted when exploring other planets and this was not the time to change strategy.

The first exploratory Dorker was destroyed with one single fire at 8:57am. No evidence of a foe, no sight of their craft. This highly technical and purportedly laser-proof craft just evaporated, to the distress of the delegates, who, by pure virtue of the windows smashing at the force of the blast, realised immediately that they were in grave danger. The second Dorker managed to avoid the fire in a fashion, but seconds later met with the same fate.

"Back in the craft! Back in the fucking craft!" shouted James.

Dane said nothing, but had already docked his mobile craft. He proceeded to seat his passengers in the spacecraft and was activating the ship's computers. His comrades were history - he had to get back to the mountain.

Three military vehicles, one helicopter and a posse of green berets immediately explored the territory following the destruction of the Dorkers. The explosion was heard distinctly by the President and his entourage.

The President's personal bodyguards surrounded him immediately the first explosion resonated around the camp, ushering him out of the room to the secure bunker below.

"What the hell was that?" quizzed Eric. Pandemonium, panic, a fear for their lives, these emotions were in abundance amongst those gathering for this supposedly auspicious meeting.

"Get down! Get down!" a forceful but experienced voice of a security guard, used to the unexpected, took command.

Eric looked towards Julian, shaking his head.

It took less than three minutes. Personnel, guests, security guards were all safely beneath ground, in the bunker. The security guards were of the highest calibre.

The bucolic federal campsite, named Camp David, originally converted to a presidential retreat by Franklin D Roosevelt and named after his grandson, was not so safe. It erupted into flames.

Dane set the co-ordinates up quickly on the screen. The rest of the crew frantically harnessing themselves into their seats on the spacecraft, panic was setting in. James checked that Serenix was safe, Dane equally with Annaluce.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted James. Scott looked on disapprovingly: "Where did they come from?"

"Don't know, but let's get the fuck out of here!" replied Scott. James responded with the same disapproving look.

The craft was fired up instantly. Ultimately, Dane was a warrior and this is what he did best. The force shields activated, the perpetrators would attack their ship, in Dane's view. The destruction left behind them, a gutted Camp David retreat, the thought that the American President might have perished, didn't need dwelling on.

Annaluce kept remarkably quiet. Not a word. Perhaps in shock.

"They're going to think this was a setup," remarked Patrick.

"He's right: first the bases at Antarctica; next the base in the Amazon; now the President's retreat. Jesus, we look worse than Daxzus!" James instantly wanting to retract that last statement - Annaluce didn't deserve that kind of remark and Scott would again disapprove - that was the second time he had taken the Lord's name in vain.

Dane kept a vigil on events. He was uninterested in the dialogue within the craft, only another probable attack. Thankfully, they were unhindered and on their way back to the volcano.

"How did anyone know we would be at Camp David?" asked Bella, almost under her breath.

"Oosapeth! Must have sold us out," another statement for retraction. Serenix, like Annaluce, was not guilty. "Sorry, Serenix," said Demitri.

Dane interjected. This hypothesising wasn't helping.

"Quiet. Let's get back to base, then evaluate the data." Good advice which pulled everyone on board back in line.

The news of the devastating explosion at Camp David made headlines across the globe. The obvious assumption was a terrorist attack. The President, like his advisors, was safe. They survived the attack in the bunker fit to withstand a nuclear attack. The military and the helicopter sent out to explore the two explosions suffered the same fate as the two Undarthian scouts.

Headline news:

_Camp David in flames. A terrorist attack? We are awaiting further news._

The whereabouts of the President still unknown, the American public were in shock.

Many terrorist groups around the world couldn't resist claiming responsibility. The speculation was rife. Even North Korea wasn't immune to potential blame.

At around 2pm on 27th February 2018, having safely returned from the bunker at the now obliterated Camp David, the President made an announcement. It went live on every international news channel. He had to consider this speech carefully. None of the coalition knew of the meeting  at Camp David. He also had to convince the public of a plausible explanation.

The President addressed the public from the Oval Office, Washington, D.C.

"Firstly, I would like to say that I am fit and well. Thankfully, nobody was injured in the tragic explosion at Camp David. We were holding a meeting at the retreat, but thankfully it had finished before the explosion occurred. A full investigation is taking place, but unconfirmed reports suggest that it was a gas explosion. We can only thank God that the retreat had been vacated."

A total fabrication, but enough to take the dogs off the scent. It wouldn't be long before questions were asked. For the moment, though, the President had more pressing concerns following the call from NASA, at the bunker, prior to his return to the Oval Office.

************************

At the volcano an appraisal of the situation was in hand. Oosapeth had returned. He had secured the 1,000 ships he had promised the elders and was ready to use the portal at CERN to deploy his craft in battle against the unknown aliens.

Dane's ship returned to base prematurely.

The entrance to Oosapeth's hideout was impressive: the ship negotiated the entrance with consummate ease, down the tunnel and docking in auto pilot. The cave in the mountain was an engineering miracle: it had anonymity, a full docking area for both spacecraft and drones and was the size of a hangar.

Each ship suspended as if by magic, using anti-gravity, ready and willing to be deployed at a moment's notice. Walls of  volcanic rock, sculpted, black, impregnable, revealed a maze of intricate confined spaces, each with a different purpose.

Oosapeth waited anxiously for his team to divulge the extent of the problem. His war room was even more impressive than Dane's - a circular imposing arena with the holographic image in the centre, surrounded by technological hardware and operatives. Data was processing at tremendous speed, hieroglyphics spelling out the danger.

Dane led the posse into the War Room. The image in the centre depicted the horrific saga unfolding. Unknown spacecraft littered the planet, drones in abundance, sites at Antarctica, the Amazon and now Camp David reduced to rubble. This enemy meant business.

Dane, almost embarrassed, viewed the data, looked towards Oosapeth, checked that his team were all gathered, and began his appraisal.

"They knew we would be at Camp David. How?" Silence. Serenix, hair ruffled from the torrid expedition afraid to eyeball her father, looked down. James, the same. Kosuke looked around, as did the others, nobody wishing to lock horns with Dane Vhastek. "They knew our every move. They must know where this base is."

His prediction made sense. The newly formed coalition was in danger. They knew nothing of this alien source. The Camp David attack had taken them by surprise. Somehow their enemy was one step ahead, but how?

Oosapeth insisted on returning his daughter to Xenon.

"Serenix, time to return home." The cold look gave her no option but to obey. Whatever was between his daughter and the Earth being was irrelevant.

James saw the sense in his statement and echoed her father's orders: "On board, now!" he said to his beloved.

Annaluce had become a liability. Dane felt weak and needed to offload this distraction.

"Annaluce, I will return you to Zarduzian. This is not your fight," the look of the warrior etched on his face as he stared at the increase in the enemies' war dotted everywhere on the holographic image. He and Oosapeth had a job to do; there was no time for baggage.

"I would like to offer backup. We have ships, weapons. Let me talk to my people," said Annaluce.

Dane stared. He didn't understand. Why did she need to get involved in this scrap? His weakness was getting the better of him. He should offload this distraction, yet he was compelled to consider her offer, despite its feeling wrong.

"I will stay. One of my commanders will travel with you to your planet and return to relay the outcome of your talks." Dane was staying strong despite the urge to go with her, yet not wanting to overlook her offer.

"But I would have a stronger chance of success with you by my side," said Annaluce, sensing she might be losing this battle; her conquest to win over Dane Vhastek.

Dane paused. She had a point. Oosapeth had only committed to 1,000 war craft; this war would need more ships. He needed to return to his capital and try to convince the elders to support the offensive with whatever craft they could spare. James and Kosuke had already carried out a daring plan to capture Annaluce, maybe they would convince the Zaagan hierarchy.

"I will return to try to convince Trancior to support the cause. James and Kosuke will return with Annaluce to Zarduzian, to try to muster up support. Oosapeth, you take your daughter, Scott and Bella. Patrick and Demitri will travel with me to Zanakisco," Dane's authority now evident.

Oosapeth, sensing that Dane was not going to take no for an answer, secretly admiring the wisdom of his compatriot, gave an approving look.

"Attack is imminent, no time to waste," said Dane, ushering all parties into action. "Report back here, set the on-board clocks to Earth time. Back here in one hour."

Oosapeth led the chosen to the portal area. Dane, Oosapeth and Annaluce took command of their respective craft. The portal, a blue hue which lit up the blackness of the cave walls, waiting to sling these craft to other worlds, many light years away, in an instant. First to vanish through the blue glow was Annaluce, followed by Dane then Oosapeth.

Would Earth be dishevelled by the time they returned? Dane had to take that chance.
**CHAPTER 29**

**THE EXODUS**

An enormous detonation, the might of a thousand nuclear explosions, a fire ball erupted, glowing bright, almost blindingly. The sight from space was spectacular and yet devastating.

Most of the occupants of the spacecraft carrying those lucky enough to be chosen for the mass exodus were in deep sleep. Cryogenics, enough to guarantee a journey lasting over 80,000 years, had been used, the chambers robust, the settings meticulously administered by the last remaining conscious being on the ship before he himself would self-administer his own cryogenically induced rest.

Adonian Cerestula looked out at his planet for one last time. The small, circular window displayed an orange glow: the home he had known was no longer.

The asteroid was massive, approximately eight miles long, too large, too dangerous even to try to break up or destroy. A civilisation who knew their fate, perilous as it was, unable to prevent the inevitable destruction of their planet. Lives would be obliterated, plant life exhausted, deprived of sunlight, of oxygen, would perish. Livestock would be wiped out.

The trajectory of the death rock had been calculated, the date and time of impact predicted with precision; it was real.

The planet was so beautiful: five continents, an abundant water supply and on it a highly intelligent civilisation.

Adonian looked on for one last time. He had many friends down there, those who were not chosen to flee the destruction, who weren't lucky enough to have the skills to guide the chosen few to the nearest planet which could support life.

The constellation Centaurus, approximately 4.25 light years away, contained an exoplanet with similar life-sustaining properties to Earth. The convoy of spacecraft, travelling at over 40,000 kilometres an hour, was destined to reach the new home in a little over 78,000 years. The last remaining inhabitants, totalling several thousand, knew they were leaving loved ones behind, to burn alive, once the asteroid hit, or wither and die in the fallout of the impact. Earth would be much older by the time the last inhabitants would reach their destination, a new planet.

Adonian contemplated the earth millions of years from now, the passage of time that would elapse during their expedition. Would it be completely destroyed? Would another alien race adopt it? Would another intelligent life emerge?

The lights were dim on the spacecraft; Adonian floated to his own chamber. At the press of a button, the lid opened, cold steam flowed into the craft, a fleeting glance at those joining him on the adventure, a final check; he was a lonely figure embarking on an adventure of uncertainty.

He had checked the on-board temperature, the craft was in auto pilot, his new home beckoned. On his craft, a carbon copy of the other craft in the fleet, around 70 chambers were systematically arranged. This was a Noah's Ark, along with 200 other arks, on a journey to a new world.

Adonian saluted his comrades. It was time to join the others, time to take a long sleep, one in which he would sleep  many lifetimes. Looking at the orange, glowing planet, he would trade the many lifetimes for just one on his home planet. That option, however, was not on the table.

The date set on Adonian's sleeping chamber was from a different earth, a different people, an obsolete period. The calendar Adonian knew on his earth preceded modern man by approximately 3.3 million years. The asteroid hit the central coast of Argentina as we know it; back then the country was known as Azten.

Adonian stared at the frozen chamber, gave himself a few last moments to remember his life on earth; he would miss his close family. His father had passed away only two years previously, leaving his mother, Elansey, to cope alone. He was lucky: he worked as a cryogenic engineer, so his services were essential to the success of the migration. His sister, Julu, was not so lucky. She drew the short straw, cried unceremoniously at having to say goodbye to her younger brother. Her mother was distraught at the news but paradoxically elated - at least one of her off spring had a chance.

It was only a year ago that Adonian had married. His bride, Tulia, was in the chamber to his right, asleep, frozen in time to be awoken by his side. He had kissed her, stared into her brown eyes and promised to see her again in many thousands of years. She wouldn't be a day older; neither would he. Both would still be young enough to start a family. The thought of his son or daughter not knowing Earth was daunting; he almost didn't want to wish such an affliction on anyone, let alone his heir. Life would be different, but at least he was alive, he had a future. It would be a wonderful adventure.

The ship was moving away from Earth, now just a small dot in the window. His thumb against the glass could block out the world - it was just like another planet.

Adonian checked the setting on the chamber. The cryogenic freeze would take about an hour to set to the temperature necessary to effectively reduce the passenger to an almost dead state, one which would enable survival for thousands of years without ageing. Adonian had practised this procedure many times on earth, although it was just that: a practice run. It had never been tested in space.

The ship was merely an auditorium of lifeless beings, a vessel to transport a civilisation trying to preserve its existence in the cosmos.

Adonian couldn't resist one last look before descending into oblivion.

Azten had been his home for 27 years. The news of the asteroid hit the world's population like a sledgehammer. This was a race of people considered intelligent; surely, an asteroid could be dealt with, couldn't it?

He lived in the capital of Azten, Toma, based on the East coast, directly in the line of fire of this destructive beast travelling at over 30,000 kilometres an hour. The advancement of these ancient earth-dwellers was more advanced than that of modern man, but not enough to travel via a portal and not enough to destroy an asteroid set to extinguish their existence.

The language was English, across the globe. Different dialects existed, much as in 2018, but the language was indistinguishably English. Earth, 3.3 million years ago, was much the same: the tectonic plates hadn't altered much; the plant life as today; in fact, the people of that era would not see much difference in the planet of today. They erected buildings, they flew aircraft, had a global network of cities, lived in harmony most of the time, like us, enjoyed the Eden environment in which they were privileged to live.

Toma was the leading centre of a new breakthrough: cryogenics. A city buzzing with new and improving technology, a city Adonian adored. He worked at Cryogenius. The company's mission statement was: 'Awake tomorrow in another world a thousand years from now'. This was hailed as the revolutionary way to preserve the civilisation for the future, to venture into the universe in search of new worlds. He had met his wife, Tulia, there. A shy girl, she worked in the laboratory, testing and improving the quality of the cryogenic fusion. Adonian worked to develop the 'chamber vacuum sealing', which secured and locked in the cryogenic substance, to monitor the temperature and guarantee the procedure's success.

The cafeteria at the plant was where Adonian first saw his beloved. There was just the one seat available on that particular day.

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

Tulia weighed him up. _Not bad_ , she thought. They both adorned the standardised work suits provided for every worker, eliminating discrimination. A white overall, one piece, made of a super-resistant fabric known as 'iodenunium', developed to withstand the extreme cold of the cryogenic liquid, should it be spilt over a worker accidently. Not a garment which particularly enhanced appearance, yet Adonian wore it well.

"Didn't think we laboratory workers were allowed to mix with the chamber guys," said Tulia.

"Haven't you seen the new ruling?" replied Adonian.

"No, what's that?"

"If a lab girl allows a chamber guy to sit next to her, she has to agree to a date. Still mind me sitting next to you?"

Tulia weighed him up and down, considered the offer and responded.

"Is that the new ruling that says the girl's mother has to come on the date?"

He had met his match.

He stared out of the spaceship's round window, the steam from his breath causing condensation on the glass. The memory of that moment in the cafeteria made him smile. He remembered how she looked on that first date; no mother was present. They ate at the _Azten Domarius_ restaurant. He'd had to pull out all the stops to get a table, but he was well connected, much the bachelor about town. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, he'd thought, and it paid off; she was impressed.

The next thought rushed through his mind. The look of adoration on Tulia's face on the night of the date in stark contrast to the look on her face at the devastating news.

Adonian had been working at the lab a little later than normal. Holographic imaging was all the rage, entertainment was via this new medium, even news bulletins. He entered their penthouse apartment on the 90th floor. The views of Toma were breathtaking, the greenery of the trees spectacular, the view of the bay adorable, nothing gave the newlyweds more pleasure. She ran into his arms, in tears, behind her the imaging on the breaking news: an asteroid.

That memory passed, not one Adonian wished to dwell on. His life had changed in that moment. They both new their dream of a family on Earth had been shattered, though that thought wasn't close to the tragic news a few months later.

The asteroid at first was manageable, according to the media. They would find a solution; this would not be the end. Yet only two months later, one month before impact, Adonian was given the news: his mother had not been selected; his grief temporarily relieved by confirmation that his wife had.

The news came through hologram media, a little like an email but one you could touch. The confirmation that Adonian and Tulia would have a place on the Exodus craft was emotional.  Tulia burst into tears, flung her arms around her husband and they kissed, intently. Moments later, tears of a different kind for the mother who would never see her son's children.

Adonian stared at the planet, tears rolling down his cheeks. That memory haunted him, the realisation that his mother existed no longer. He was angry, but had to be strong. The only way the memory of his mother would exist on the new planet was with the birth of an off spring. Boy or girl, Adonian would tell them stories of their grandmother. He would love his children as his mother had loved him; that would be her gift to her unknown grandchildren. His tears subsided and a smile came over his face. He would make his mother proud!

The spacecraft was robust, a huge beast of a ship. Originally, cryogenics had been an experiment. The spacecraft were built, complete with sleep chambers, as part of a huge programme approved by the world's then esteemed political leaders. The cost of production, though, was astronomical. Global unrest erupted as citizens opposed the outlandish cost; surely, domestic problems took precedent, they argued, and demonstrations were organised to vent their abhorrence. Despite this opposition, the spacecraft project was approved. In fact, it turned out to be fundamental to the continued survival of their civilisation in the wake of the asteroid; without the approval, the spacecraft would not have been available to make the journey to another planet.

Cryogenius had not quite reached the level of total testing, the ability to induce a state close to death, allowing long-range space exploration without deterioration of the host in the chamber. The main challenge was the automatic rejuvenation of the host, the ability to awake the being from its deep transitional state to fully conscious and functional, following an inordinate time in space.

Time behaves differently when a spacecraft travels vast distances. The journey to reach the planet in Centaurius was a distance unimaginable. The destined planet had not been named, other than X1285, a computer-generated reference, one of half a dozen potential planets to migrate to, in the aftermath of the destruction of Earth, 3.3 million years ago.

The spacecraft was named _The New Beginning_.

Adonian was in contact with the rest of the fleet; all captains had to confirm that their individual chambers were activated, the 'sleeping beauty' mode switched on, before saying a fond farewell for the next 40,000 years; the mid-point of a staggering 78,018-year-long journey.

His close friend, Ulyius Volkan, a ship's captain, reported that all procedures had been undertaken. He had been a colleague at Cryogenius, was certainly blessed with good looks, of which Adonian had always been a tad jealous. Now he was a fleet captain, manning the Exodus from Earth. Tulia always insisted he was arrogant, but Adonian saw how she spruced up her appearance every time he visited. When Ulyius sent the message that he also had been selected, Tulia cried for the second time, affirming his belief that his wife was an admirer.

Another memory came flooding back whilst Adonian was still coming to terms with his new life, the chamber bay by now deathly silent.

Ulyius lived the most prestigious, privileged life in Toma. A spectacular complex on the newly hailed 'Water City', where most of the capital's wealthy resided; far and away from the apartment Adonian and Tulia occupied. Whilst their abode was comfortable and perfectly functional, Ulyius enjoyed six-star accommodation.

Ulyius had visited his friend's place for the first time, a surprise birthday treat organised by Tulia.

Adonian remembered that he had been suspicious; his wife had made an extra special effort with her appearance that evening, especially as they were supposed to be booked at their normal, relatively low-key restaurant in downtown Toma. Adonian didn't much care for over-indulgence, especially at his expense.

There was a knock at the door.

"The door!" Adonian shouted, his wife still vigorously sculpting her appearance before exiting for their evening.

"Could you answer it? I'm not quite ready yet. Might be a delivery or something."

Reluctantly, he opened the door.

The surprise party included all the family and Ulyius. His wife suddenly came rushing over from the bedroom, looking radiant, an observation that had not gone unnoticed by his close friend. When Adonian caught Tulia giving Ulyius a more than friendly peck on the lips, his birthday treat became a nightmare.

He shrugged off the memory.

"Just checking in before descending into the chamber. Is everything good?" asked Ulyius.

Adonian was commanded to respond, as he did with the other captains. The circumstances still seemed surreal, though.

"All good. Relay your co-ordinates." Adonian spoke in a purely professional manner. Secretly, he had to admit a feeling of both jubilation and disappointment at his close friend joining him on this journey. This could be the one threat to his mother's dream for the preservation of the next generation of Cerestulas on the new planet. For that, he needed Tulia.

"Minus 400 degrees centigrade," replied his friend.

"Liquefied state?"

"Solid," replied Ulyius.

"Distance?"

"Closed at 78,018 Earth years. Open at 40,000 years as instructed," said Ulyius.

"You're good to descend. See you in 40,000 years!" replied Adonian. They both briefly paused to soak up that thought.

The mission entailed a brief intermission at 40,000 years, simply to see if everyone had survived this still-untested cryogenic phenomenon. The views of space from their Noah's Ark would be alien; Earth would be a distant memory, literally. Should they survive, then planet X1285 would greet the arrival of an alien species. Would they meet with resistance from another intelligent life form? Would the plant life preserve or poison them? Would they be able to survive in the alien atmosphere? All possibilities were both exciting and frightening, in equal measure.
**CHAPTER 30**

**PLANET X1285**

The Exodus, reaching 40,000 kilometres, was at a critical point: the success of the untested cryogenic technology would hail the operation a triumph or render it a pitiful failure. Deathly silence in the craft, manned by machines alone, a near-dead state for those cryogenically compromised. The fleet in almost complete darkness, the few minor operating lights of the on-board computer the only clue that life existed.

The flight deck supporting the chambers instantly lit, they activated, solid cryogenic liquid programmed to thaw. The process would take 24 hours to complete. Each body hooked up to a defibrillator, the potential for this operation to fail if its ability to reactivate the heart faltered. Victims cocooned, now at the mercy of unknown, untested technology.

Each chamber was illuminated, a green hue emitted from them encompassing the deck. There were rows of pods, the fate of the mission hinged on the opening of the chamber caskets.

Each spacecraft in the fleet activated one main pod an hour before the rest, that of the flight commanders. It provided enough time for each commander to safely activate the pods of their fellow passengers.

Adonian squinted. His bare torso dripping wet, the green liquefied gunge was warm. A deep sleep state had dulled the senses. His eyes unable to focus, the light blinding, he partially made out a white, sealed, shiny substance on the ceiling of the ship. The memories returned, slowly: the Exodus, Earth, Tulia, Ulyius, the asteroid, My God, the asteroid!

He had survived. It's 40,000 years on. Would he look decrepit? Would he still be able to function? Was his beloved still alive? He needed to move; he couldn't. His training at Cryogenius kicked in: his body had been dysfunctional; his muscles wasted from the journey; it would hurt to move; a jelly-like feeling would encompass his tortured body; the harnesses would keep him from floating to the ceiling. The release button was to the right, to press it would release the restraint; the weightlessness would ease the pressure on his body. Simple, basic space suits were in a pouch on the exterior.

Elation turned to anxiety. He was okay, but was Tulia? He would have to wait an hour. Why an hour? he thought. Which idiot decided on one hour? He would check the on-board instruments. Work had to be done, but the next hour would seem like 40,000 years.

The view was breathtaking. He was several light years from Earth - he had to take that in. _Several light years from Earth_ , a thought he repeated over and over. Nothing was recognisable. Astonishingly, in the distance, he saw an asteroid belt, clear, must be hundreds of thousands of kilometres away. It was ironic that the first image was a multitude of the very space debris which led to this journey. He could only just make out the image, the ice on the window starting to thaw from the heat of the on-board lights.

The hour was up. The lids of hundreds of chamber pods in the fleet rose in unison, as if orchestrated by a master conductor.  Adonian floated over to Tulia's pod. She was at peace underneath a green brulee of cryogenic substance. An agonising wait, the substance liquefied, the defibrillator would now have energised.

Her eyes opened. _You can keep the asteroid belt, the real beauty is right in front of me_ , thought Adonian.

Tulia saw a blurred vision. She gathered her thoughts. The asteroid impact at the forefront. The vision was bright, disjointed, the background pure white. She blinked, felt the harness holding her securely in the pod, her focus returned, the jet-black hair, green eyes, instantly recognisable. A tear formed.

Adonian smiled. She was safe. He would let her become accustomed before an embrace. The rest of the pods had opened; gradually life was reignited.

A voice came through. Adonian could hear a distant calling; he recognised the voice of Ulyius.

"You good, Captain?" Ulyius staying professional.

Adonian floated over, the slow oxygen release over the last 24 hours equipped the deck for the emergence of its passengers.

"All good, my friend." Following the agonising wait to see if Tulia was alive, Adonian was less critical of his close friend. "The cargo is good, too. You?"

"All good. It worked, the defibrillator worked. Never doubted you on that one. Yeah, the cargo is good here, too. You checked in on the rest?"

"Just in the process," said Adonian.

The passengers all emerged unscathed. Smiles and greetings all around, all pleased to be alive. The view from the window was the obvious first target of the awakening beings, all speechless at the sight, in awe of the view, in awe of their journey. The pods had infused the body with the minimum nutrients to sustain life, at an almost lifeless state, a miniscule amount. However, upon their temporary resurrection, prior  to establishing another 'death state' for the remainder of the journey, they were thirsty. Pouches of gel, acting as both a liquid and a food supply, were sealed to the outside of each pod.

They had eight Earth hours to chat, re-energise and contemplate the final journey.

Tulia hugged her husband, more tears. She enquired:

"Ulyius, is he okay?"

Adonian nodded. The feeling of elation somewhat muted. He went about his task, checked on his passengers, had to pinch himself at the surreal event taking place. The next stop: another planet. He would have the descent to navigate. Who knows what lies in wait?

The procedure for re-entering the pod was exactly the same as at the start of this epic journey. Adonian needed to check that everyone was safely harnessed in, including Tulia, who got special observation. The freezing of the substance, checking the reading, minus 400 degrees centigrade, checking the heartbeat reading of each host, inducing sleep before the cryogenics froze to an unbearable freeze, the final destination a further 38,018 years away.

Adonian signed off which each fleet commander. Last was his friend.

"See you on the new planet. We need to think of a name. X1285 doesn't have a good ring to it," said Adonian.

"Got 38,018 years to think of one!" said Ulyius.

Adonian laughed. In that one sentence, he realised why he loved his friend so much. No matter the danger or risk, he could always make light of a difficult situation.

******************************

Planet X1285 approached. Same procedure: the captains awoke an hour before the rest. In the same fashion, Adonian accustomed  himself to the deck, focused on the brilliant-white ceiling, then panicked over his wife; the wait would be agonising.

This time when he looked out of the round window, still defrosting but transparent enough to see reasonably clearly, he saw an amazing sight: an alien world, huge. This time he couldn't discard it with a thumb.

The planet was blue! Water was visible, clouds even. Was he back on Earth? On closer inspection, the land mass was different - orange, bright orange. Land mass to water ratio looked around fifty-fifty, unlike Earth at two-thirds water. He pressed his nose to the cold glass, wiped away the condensation, his breath on the cold glass obscuring the view. He kept wiping.

This was it. This was home.

Thirty-eight thousand years had elapsed since the last intermission and he still hadn't thought of a name.

The space travellers awoke; again, he gave priority to his wife's pod.

Tulia was alive. The passengers embraced, some consuming the gel with vigour - it had been nearly 40,000 years and they deserved indulgence. Cries, cheers, laughter, elation, it had been a success. A successful eviction of a planet, of home.

The ship had injected oxygen into the chamber deck, the computers came to life, an auto pilot took control until a manual override was forced. Adonian took his position at the helm. The holographic image had captured the new planet, the terrain mapped out perfectly. He had let the passengers mingle, take in the awesome sight and contemplate a new beginning.

Adonian took a deep breath and exhaled, preparing himself for the descent.

Captains from each of the fleet checked in; all were good. His close friend signed in.

"Thought of a name yet, Captain?" said Ulyius.

"We gotta land safely first. No heroics, do you hear me?" replied Adonian, ever the pragmatist.

"I might. If I didn't have this cargo, it would be different. How's Tulia?"

"Beautiful," replied Adonian. Adonian knew he was just naturally concerned, but he also knew that jealousy was his Achilles heel. Still, he needed total focus.

The terrain would determine an adequate landing position. The sheer number in the fleet compromised the possibility of the ships all landing on a common spot. The computer would determine a landing position as it entered the atmosphere. The instruments would examine the constitution of the planet, the oxygen levels, if any, and the temperature. Sophisticated tools on the outer part of the ship collected images and analysed the atmosphere. They would determine rock formation, the composition of the land, plant life, whether it was a mountainous region and a whole host of other data required to navigate a safe landing. Once on the surface, they could only hope that they were not greeted by a threatening alien life form.

Within a few hours, the passengers had re-energised, all looking intently at the new world. They moved to the middle deck, a fully functional seating area, to find space suits, this time a more robust version than the temporary suit at the intermission. In case the atmosphere was hostile, a full space helmet would allow a few hours to explore the planet via an attached compact oxygen tank. The suits white, each had their name engraved on the sleeve next to a symbol of planet Earth as a reminder and a testimony to their civilisation.

The descent was an auto pilot function, the fleet in unison. Each craft was surrounded by heat shields, which were working well in the descent. Graphics illustrated a mountainous region on the first land mass. These craft, once safely inside the planet's  atmosphere, adopt the mode of a domestic craft, navigating at an altitude to closely monitor the planet.

This was a beautiful planet, so blue, water abundant, a landscape similar to home, rich in vegetation and plant life.

"Atmosphere has oxygen. This place must have life," his friend commented.

"Getting the same readings. Got a possible landing site on my graphics. You copy?" said Adonian.

"Got it. Flat, vegetation minimal, looks like an island. We need to lock everyone in on the same site. Looking good for a fleet landing," said Ulyius.

Adonian locked in the fleet. The captains all sanctioned the landing.

The craft now lowered to around 1,000 feet above the new planet's sea level. Approaching the landing site, the crew saw a green island, a massive land mass, flat mostly, some hilly areas, massive trees, must be 500 metres high, each side of the landing site and dense. The area the computer chose was flat, around three kilometres wide and five long. The craft lowered in unison, the boosters ready to gradually lower them into position at ground level, they would descend slowly.

Landing was a success. The atmosphere was confirmed, oxygen abundant and fit for habitation. The sun shone, perfect blue sky, no clouds, only a strange mist over the forest. The craft in stable mode, harnesses released, the passengers awaited instruction. A sigh of relief followed by applause as the craft landed safely.

"We have touchdown," said Ulyius.

"Now the fun begins," said Adonian. "The reading says oxygen but let's play it safe. Space helmets as a precaution. That's an order!" This time, Adonian announcing to all captains.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" asked Ulyius. "The reading says oxygen."

"Ulyius! This is no time for games," insisted Adonian.

Too late: his friend was exiting.

Gradually, captains and passengers alike ventured out, most donning the glass bowl helmet as a safety measure, one or two released them to check the oxygen level. They did not suffocate; they did not die.

It looked like grass, felt like grass, the trees, tall as they were, obviously emitting the oxygen into the atmosphere, all indicated an eco-friendly world. The sun shone brightly on the level landing area, eerily sculpted between the trees either side, equally haunting was the mist engulfing those trees.

All seemed good, then the cry came from the forest, a screech you would never forget. At first a single cry. Minutes later, a piercing sound, a multitude of cries. The sound was coming from the trees. The mist over the trees eerie, the cries distressing, the invaders stood silent for a moment. This wasn't a good sound.

There was movement, trees rustling, the sound increased in volume, the anxiety increased. The shadowy images were barely distinguishable, but whatever they were, they weren't emerging from the mist to welcome them.
**CHAPTER 31**

**THE HOUR COMETH**

Oosapeth arrived home. Serenix wasn't best pleased. She had been dragged against her wishes; she longed to be beside James. Bella empathised; Scott was frankly baffled.

"I'm going to return to Earth with you, Father. You will not leave me here!" said Serenix, adamantly. This new side to her reformed personality, until now unseen, was going to make a difference.

"I lost you once and I am not taking the chance of losing you again," said Oosapeth, who wasn't even convincing himself. He had lost her mother two years previously. Angelina was his life, she had perished on an expedition; a freak accident, she had lost her footing and fell a thousand feet to her death. Like her daughter, she was impetuous. He had warned her to use the harness and link up. "I've done this walk hundreds of times, I'll be fine," her words echoed in his mind. "I lost your mother through stubbornness; I'm not going to lose you, too." This time, his voice had more conviction.

Serenix gave him the look, exactly the same look her mother used to dish out when she disapproved of something her husband demanded. This conversation would have to wait, but in his mind he had already lost this battle.

Marrazeth, in full military regalia, his trusted second-in-command, listened intently as Oosapeth barked instructions. This operation was becoming a problem. He had commissioned 1,000 warships, not to mention the warriors, to man this assault on the unknown alien source on Earth. All because of his daughter.

Marrazeth, ever vigilant, wanted the lowdown. He had assisted on many expeditions, many different planets, usually aware of the opposition. This was a new experience. He was finding it difficult to get to grips with an unknown source. What was their military capability? Did they have a weapon that might prove unbeatable? What was their motive?

"The battle begins as soon as we arrive back at the volcano," said Oosapeth. He had the graphics up showing clear and precise positions of this opposing unknown alien source on Earth. He was happy to be addressing his comrade from his base at home. Together with a dozen of his trusted warriors, his finest, he could action a plan.

Scott and Bella, donning their headsets, would listen intently to the briefing. There was no respect for the opposition from those gathered, no expectation that the aliens on Earth had anything to offer. Bella briefly thought of her mother, Scott his wife; it had been a long time since normality with their families. Oosapeth's dwelling, impressive as it was, now just another alien place, another alien planet.

Marrazeth studied the holographic data.

"They are poised over each of their major capitals. They will see our craft emerge from the portal."

"We send drones first, a hundred or so, followed by one spacecraft. Send Dorran, a trusted and battle-experienced general. He will assess the reaction and return immediately. Dorran will recall the drones that survive back through the  portal. If there is no attack on our drones, we repeat the exercise. If no reaction on the second run, we send our ships through the portal."

Marrazeth processed the information in his mind.

"Too obvious. Send all our drones and ships on the first attempt. Give them no warning." A good point. Oosapeth could rely on Marrazeth to assess the battle plan and offer an honest appraisal.

"We don't know their capability. It's dangerous." Oosapeth studied the image, paced around the holographic Earth, studied the game plan of the opposition, then modified his plan of attack. "There is a natural portal in the space dimension where Dane Vhastek's ships emerged. Put 100 through the Earth portal, the rest through the space portal. We need to monitor this from a distance."

Serenix was looking on, impatiently. She knew instantly which portal she wished to go through and it would be neither of those. Only the portal in the mountain would lead her back to James. She would fall a thousand feet, following in her mother's footsteps, before she would abandon her beloved.

Scott listened, looked at the exposure of those craft entering at CERN. He made an observation.

"The unknown craft entered at the CERN portal, as I understand it. That must be their exit point. Send just enough craft through the portal at CERN, then guard it. Could I ask a question?" Scott was making sense.

Marrazeth, intrigued, looked over at his commander, who nodded inquisitively.

"Your question?"

"Can your portal amplifier also shrink a portal?"

Bella was intrigued also; this was so unlike Scott. Where was he going with this?

"Yes," replied Marrazeth.

"Then shrink the portal once we have entered it at CERN, small enough to close it off as an exit point for the unknown alien source to return home. They will be left with the one remaining portal in outer space. We can close that off as well. Use half our ships at each portal. We will have control once through."

The plan made sense; they would be sitting ducks entering at CERN. Once the alien source became aware that their exit point had been compromised, they would become vulnerable. The army of ships heading towards Earth could assess their movement, react, dissipate, attack.

Scott McCabe became part of the military team there and then. Bella smiled, proudly.

************************

Dane Vhastek addressed the elders.

Patrick and Demitri had been bystanders so far, all the emphasis on James Eaton. Both had their opportunity: it was their planet at risk, too. This was their chance.

"We need support," said Dane.

Trancior, having already made his grand entrance complete with sceptres, was frustrated, irritated at being requisitioned again. Earth was one of many planets where they had a registered footprint. Granted, it was an important footprint, but to jeopardise their entire operation was too risky. He had explained at the previous meeting and reiterated at the banquet that their fleets were otherwise engaged, yet still Dane persevered with more demands.

"Dane, you are a respected warrior." Trancior glanced across the ornate room, replete with wonderful, opulent,  Roman-style pillars either side of the grand door, framing the steps leading down to an impressive centrepiece table at which the elders sat. He looked at the humans, somewhat bemused that Dane had felt it necessary to bring them along for a second time. Had he become too attached? "What has brought on this latest request?"

"The planet, Earth, is under great siege. Many alien ships are strategically placed, ready to attack, and Oosapeth's fleet is insufficient. Annaluce, in the absence of her father, is trying to procure further ammunition. We cannot fail to contribute further, otherwise our honour is at stake," a feeling of pride was evident, Dane clearly not wanting to shirk responsibility. The mention of honour was a tack he had used before when requesting support from the elders.

Patrick begged the Council to hear his voice. The elders respected his rights.

"Dane Vhastek is a hero. He rescued us from certain death. Earth is our planet. Our future rests on the decision you make today," a heartfelt plea. "Don't you have an obligation? After all, you are our ancestors. To lose this battle is to sentence your descendants to all kinds of unthinkable horrors. You cannot surely abandon your children."

Dane awaited their decision. All that needed to be said had been said, all that _could_ be said had been said, and he had little time. Trancior left the room to deliberate.

Dane paced around, walking back and forth on the same track, nervousness around the room. Patrick and Demitri sensed the anxiety. This was a formidable request; the success of the whole operation might hinge on the decision of the elders.

Trancior returned, his two guards carried the sceptres, the robes this time red with gold trim, equally as striking as the previous white and gold. The jury was about to deliver its verdict.

"One thousand ships," said Trancior.

"The troops?" asked Dane, with more than a hint of expectancy. He had already secured far more than he could have hoped for.

"Twenty thousand," said Trancior, a man of few words.

*************************

Annaluce returned to the portal square in Larquiston. The portal had been secured for their entry spot. The ship a moderatesized Trollozyte one, courtesy of Oosapeth. She was not too sure what to expect, what sort of reception she might receive as the automatic successor to her father. How had his death been taken in this magnificent city? She had entered the capital in an alien ship. If they knew Oosapeth had a hand in her father's demise, this might take some explaining.

The ship docked. Oosapeth had put the machine in auto pilot; the ship would disengage ready for their return, the passengers simply had to dismount.

The reception wasn't as expected. The capital had security: the Munika, a serious military presence. They would kill and ask questions later. Armed to the hilt, very rarely required except to destroy an opponent, the sheer extent of their armoury on this occasion was a cause for concern. The Munika wore black from head to toe, heavy-duty, reinforced armoury, full breast plate and protection of arms and legs together with a menacing head shield. Protection fully covering the head without a hint of the face, the headgear ensured visibility looking outwards yet no hint of the Zaagan behind the mask. In each arm a concealed in-built laser weapon, voice controlled to fire at will. Foreboding.

The ship was surrounded by Munika. Not the time for a discussion. James and Kosuke were arrested.

"Release them at once! They are my guests," pleaded Annaluce.

"We have orders!" shouted one of the faceless Munika.

"Orders from whom?" asked Annaluce, acting on reliable evidence that her father was dead.

The faceless Munika did not reply.

This was now a totally different proposition. She wished Dane were by her side.

In her apartment, the familiar surroundings suddenly felt as alien as the planet she had left. She had been transported by the bubble, escorted by two Munika guards. No conversation, just escorted.

Her mind was playing tricks. Perhaps a mutiny, maybe a takeover? Who did she know who might overthrow her? What was the meaning of all this? What would happen to James and Kosuke? More importantly, how would Dane react? This was all going horribly wrong.

The sun was setting. Lights had illuminated the apartment automatically, the view of the city stunning, breathtaking, highlighted in the blood-red dusk. Annaluce had forgotten its beauty; it mattered little.

She recognised the figure approaching, escorted by two Munika guards. _Monsters_ , she thought, as the three approached. Following closely behind them some three metres, another figure, this time female.

It was Daxzus, the new, revitalised version.

Annaluce blinked profusely and looked again. It was her father. At that moment she wasn't sure whether to hug him or slap his face. What was the meaning of this? How could her father treat her this way?

Annaluce, having accepted that bombshell, then focused on the young lady following the three undesirables. Dressed in  a gold gown, hair tied back, dark, her green eyes a giveaway: it was Serenix.

Daxzus held out his arms to greet his daughter. Annaluce turned away, completely over-awed by the scene before her. First, the resurrection of her father and second, the vision of her new friend, her close comrade, Serenix.

Daxzus had anticipated this reaction. She would need time. The thought that her father might be dead, then to see him resurrected, would take time.

Thoughts flooded her mind, Annaluce had to process the situation. She had no control. She could not deliver on her promise to the cause; her father was the enemy. She decided there and then, he was no longer an ally.

Daxzus had changed. Pleased to see his daughter was alive yet desperate for revenge of his captor. He could not decipher the difference any longer. His sinister view was now distorted. He was losing the plot, capable of a malicious action without hesitation. His daughter might be a hindrance. He needed to set the tone, establish authority. Earth was now the target, his desire for a result now pivotal to his immediate goal. Destroy Oosapeth, take control of Earth for himself, no sharing.

Daxzus needed to send a message to Annaluce. He needed to know whether she was with him or the humans.

One of the Munika held a casket, placed it gently on the circular table and walked away. Annaluce knew this casket well. The ornate gold box, depicting the 37 capitals, a symbol of the great civilisation that had been established, hieroglyphics abundant with messages of the great strength of the Zaagans, the ultimate statement: 'We are the 37 capitals, represented as one, the one true voice.' The only voice, as far as Annaluce was concerned, was that of her father; it wasn't a true voice.

Daxzus spoke.

"I should not be addressing you. I should not be alive. I was fed to the squalors but survived. Oosapeth failed in his bid. He is a traitor." The emotion of telling his daughter certainly clear to witness. "I trust no alien. I am Zaagan, not human, not Trollozyte, not Undarthian."

Daxzus moved over to the casket, opened the lid and pulled out the contents, Kosuke's severed head. Precision-cut by a drone, the laser slicing cleanly through the neck.

"You need not worry about the torso; the squalors will feast tonight," said Daxzus, a frighteningly sinister, contorted face stared back at his daughter for a reaction.

Annaluce was confused. She wanted to scream - she almost fainted at the sight of her friend and ally. _James_ , she thought instantly. His life was at the mercy of this animal in front of her. No longer her father in her eyes, just a butcher.

"What exactly do you hope to gain? He was a bargaining tool," said Annaluce, deflating her father's victory. She needed an argument so she could gather her thoughts. The conflict would vent her frustration without giving the game away.

Daxzus wanted to further test his daughter.

"I thought this would please you." An opening statement designed to draw a conclusive answer to the question: was she on his side or not?

"It would please me only to win this battle for Earth. A threat is more powerful than the action. Isn't that what you always taught me, Father?" replied Annaluce.

Daxzus considered her reply. This wasn't helping him. He was losing this argument.

"Let me ask you a question. If I was on the other side of the wall at the mercy of the squalors and you had a choice, a chance to save your father by severing the head of this worthless human, would you sever his head?" Daxzus was a wily old fox.

Annaluce thought for a while. The delay in replying told Daxzus all he needed to know.

"That would depend, Father. Forgive me for the delay in replying, but I was just bringing to mind another of your wise quotes." Annaluce had this battle back on track. "If a 'being' is guilty of a crime, he would know it, it is not for another to pass sentence. I realise you are testing me, Father. Am I proving worthy?"

Annaluce had placed her father in an awkward position. To agree would confirm his guilt, not to confirm would mean he had gone against his principles and passed sentence on Kosuke.

"You remember well," Daxzus conceded.

Annaluce considered mentioning the clone Serenix, but knew that she was there to trick her. She could show no emotion for the clone; she had a more pressing worry: James Eaton.

"Where is the other human?" Annaluce said, putting the situation on a cold, almost sinister footing. To show concern would mean certain death for James and probably for herself.

"Safe, for the moment," came the reply. Daxzus held all the cards. "Would you care to see him?"

Daxzus led his daughter over to the 'night-vision visors', the device purpose-built for a good view of the Games, which came in handy for the odd occasion when a rooftop gathering hadn't been arranged.

"Let me introduce you to the new addition to the Games: the 'Death Catapult'." Daxzus looked down the lens and refined the focus, by verbal order, for Annaluce, making sure the view had the most impact.

"This device launches the victim high enough for the squalors to anticipate the drop, the parachute opens at the peak of elevation, ensuring a safe landing." Daxzus thought of his choice of words, correcting himself: "ensuring a landing.  'Safe' doesn't properly reflect the dilemma facing the victim upon landing."

Annaluce looked down the lens: the catapult was in full recoil, James strapped to the device, unable to move, clearly shouting for help. The catapult was one of many placed on the Great Wall at precise intervals. Each had a victim.

"The catapult is for the rebellious. A good deterrent, don't you think?" Daxzus said proudly.

"Father, you haven't introduced me to your friend; I don't recognise her." A blatant lie, a strategy to deflect answering her father's question regarding the legitimacy of the new addition to the Games, as well as avoiding giving away her concern for James.

"Just a mute from one of the capitals. She's here for a short while," said Daxzus, brushing off the question.

"A mute? What happened?"

"Annaluce, this isn't helping. This poor girl had a terrible ordeal. She can hear every word." Daxzus was not lying about her ordeal.

"So, how do you intend to take her back to Earth, Father?" said Annaluce, straight back to business.

"Move the planet."

In one sentence, Annaluce knew that the game was up. If he was telling the truth, he would have the portal amplifier, with codes. Her father's bluffs were legendary, so she tried another tactic to flush out the truth.

"A bit severe, not to say risky," said Annaluce, throwing in a conundrum.

"Risky, how?" Daxzus had taken the bait.

"Do you take me for a fool, Father? I recognise the mute. Serenix, a clone, obviously. You think you have the codes, I understand that. The clones would have provided you with them. Question is, are the codes the same now as they were?"

Daxzus looked up to the ceiling, contemplating her reply. He had that look, the contorted face. He knew only one way: rid himself of anyone who got in the way. This conversation was getting boring. He was tired of playing mind games.

Annaluce kept her stare, didn't take her eyes of her father for a moment. For the first time in this cat-and-mouse discussion, she feared for her life, realising that her father really did hold all the cards. He had James in an uncompromising situation and he could rid himself of his daughter instantly.

To kill both of them might ease his burden.

************************

Dane and Oosapeth arrived back at Headquarters.

Oosapeth had lost the argument with his daughter. He remembered how her mother always got her way, a chip off the old block. He had resigned himself to her longing for James.

Dane had returned, bearing the news that he had a better result with the elders than imaginable. The fight was there to be won.

They both waited. Another hour had passed, still no sign of Annaluce. Dane hadn't known real fear, the fear of losing someone you loved. Serenix had the exact same feeling.

Oosapeth had entered the data into the war plan. The extra 1,000 craft Dane had secured made an immense difference. The number of alien craft of the unknown source securing most of the major capitals around the world was now less than the new number of the Undarthians' and the Trollozytes' craft put together. That didn't account for backup from the unknown source; the shrinking of the portals would, however, restrict that significantly.

Dane couldn't concentrate.

"I'm going back to Zarduzian!" an expected outburst, but not good for the cause.

"Not the best idea you have had," said Oosapeth. He had no concern for Annaluce, the daughter of that weasel who kidnapped his daughter. James was more of a concern but, frankly, he was of little use. The humans had been disarmed by the unknown aliens, James's negotiating skills were irrelevant. This was a battle; the humans would be more a hindrance than a help to the operation.

"If we lose James, then we lose credibility. Whatever happens, there will be an end to this conflict. If we win, then we negotiate with the humans for a deal. How do we do that if James has perished?" Dane's argument didn't stack up. It was Annaluce, not James, whom he was concerned with, and Oosapeth knew it.

"We'll say he died admirably in battle. They will honour him, make him a hero." Oosapeth was right.

Serenix could see where this was leading.

"I want to go with him, Father."

Oosapeth gave his daughter that look. He weighed up his options. He could lose Dane, but not his daughter. "Dane, you go. Serenix, you stay. No questions!" Decision made. "Dane, if you are not back in an hour, the fight begins without you."

Dane nodded, took a couple of his henchmen and made his way to the portal.
**CHAPTER 32**

**THE DRAYZAKS**

Adonian ordered the women and children back into their craft. The men looked on, fear etched on their faces, sweat glistening in the sun, more from fear than heat, looking eagerly, eyes darting from side to side.

Adonian shouted to Meredon: "Three land trackers. Quick! You, me and Leon." An expedition had been organised in that one instruction.

Land trackers equipped to deal with any terrain, gravity resistant, can hover above ground and rise to 1,000 feet, if needed. The on-board graphics would map out the landscape, force field built in, adequate laser guns to guard off any opponent. A top speed of several hundred kilometres an hour guaranteed a quick exit.

The three mounted the black machines, the visor lifted, the graphics depicting an accurate vision of the land. The three warriors looked on with trepidation at what lay ahead; Tulia looked on with dread.

Adonian shouted to Ulyius: "Get Tulia inside! Await instructions. I'm going to see what's in the trees. If we don't come back from the forest, you judge the timespan, then take flight and move the fleet. You hear me?"

Ulyius didn't need telling twice.

The land tracker estimated a distance of 623 metres to the forest. The screams grew louder, strange outlines of alien beings hovering above the tree line, flapping noisily, rustling in the trees. None of this indicated anything other than danger. Extreme danger.

The intercom between the three land trackers was clear enough - all three could communicate. They moved in unison, around three metres from the ground, the grass slightly disturbed by the force thrust down from the trackers as it sped towards the unknown.

Adonian led, the other two warriors at either side, slightly behind the leader, all anxiously looking ahead as the trees grew closer. The forest area was dense, this land clearing almost seemed to be a purpose-built area, a clear break in a forest region. The graphics indicated vapour, a dense vapour, the molar mass reading indicated the fog was similar to cloud on Earth. A warning to reduce speed due to visual impairment meant that all three warriors changed to auto speed; the land trackers slowed considerably.

Ulyius had seen the three land trackers disappear into the thick, murky fog. He tried to ignore the strange sounds, detract himself from the possibility that his friend may not emerge unscathed. The landing ground was sizeable. He paced around, issued his orders for the passengers to board whilst he assessed the dramatic events unfolding.

Tulia approached.

"Ulyius, I need to stay with you," insisted Tulia.

"Absolutely not, Tulia. You heard your husband's instructions and you know what he will do if I don't obey. It's too dangerous," said Ulyius.

"Ulyius, I might lose both of you. What if he doesn't return and you get attacked by whatever is in those trees?" said Tulia.  She looked at Ulyius. He saw the look in her eyes - she feared for his safety as much as Adonian's.

"We'll be fine, Tulia. I just need you to get into the ship. Please."

"Ulyius," she paused, looking into his eyes: "don't die," said Tulia. She kissed him on the lips intently.

In the distance, a good kilometre away, where the open ground and the trees met, he spotted something unusual. Ulyius's space suit was equipped with a vision enhancer in the chest pocket, along with some basic first aid items, standard equipment for space exploration. He withdrew the vision lenses, electronically enhanced with voice recognition, and instructed the device to zoom to an enhancement of 25. The picture focused. There, he saw a spaceship strewn, dismantled, tilted, an entrance door ripped away from the chassis. He needed a clearer view: "One to 35!" he shouted. The picture slightly blurred before sharpening its focus. A partial skeleton collapsed over the hole in the craft where the door had once been, fragments of clothing still hung to the torso of this mutilated being, badly ripped and blood stained. "One to 50!" the now-nervous voice instructed. The stomach must have exploded - a huge hole in the outer garment testimony to a gruesome eruption. The head was part skeleton, part mutilated, skin hanging away from the skull, no eyes evident in their sockets. Ulyius zoomed out to 15 to get a broader look - the image revealed several craft left to rot.

The screams they had heard earlier became louder; the shrieking noises piercing. The tree trunks were thick, twice as thick as a General Sherman tree and three times as tall at approximately 300 metres high. The tree growth was dense, tree foliage blocked light and, with the added mist, this was almost impossible to navigate.

Adonian ordered his warriors to rise to 100 metres to see if they could spot where the noise was emanating from. They rose slowly, vision only good up to 6.5 metres ahead, the graphics giving accurate readings of the fog density.

Leon spoke over the internal intercom.

"Something hanging from that branch over there, to your right. Looks odd."

"Let's move in, take a closer look," their commander ordered. The dangling shape resembled an acorn, but white, about six or seven feet long. As they approached, slowly and carefully, the object was slimy, dripping, the material like a honeycomb.

"Some kind of tree fruit, maybe?" Meredon announced.

"There's another, on the branch above," said Leon. "Must be a fruit of some kind; don't fancy it for dessert, though."

They got to within a few metres. With the dense fog now less of an interference, they could focus more on the object directly in front of them. The outer shell was transparent. Inside, they could barely make out the form but the shape seemed familiar. They noticed a few more hanging honeycombs as they drew nearer the tree.

"What are they?" asked Adonian. A strong sense that something really wasn't right came over him. There was an animal of some kind inside, looked human in shape.

A massive rustling in the trees, a screech so loud it took the warriors by surprise. The thing, the creature making the screeching noise, was at the top of the tree. Obviously, they had disturbed it.

"Adonian, Meredon, let's get out of here!" Leon shouted over the intercom. Leon was the closest to the honeycombed ball hanging from the branch. He had seen the thing cocooned inside the slimy ball. An alien being, in human form, its eyes  gauged out, half-eaten, and puss emerging from its gut. He didn't need or wish to see any more.

The rustling grew louder. Whatever they had disturbed wasn't happy.

"This creature wants to cocoon us. Get out now! Descend! Descend! It's right above us!" shouted Leon.

All three warriors switched off auto speed - they needed greater velocity to flee from whatever was chasing them. The graphic image was the only method to dodge the trees; the radar navigator would hopefully ensure that the land tracker would not collide with the tree trunks, it was untested at the speeds they were now travelling.

The thing was closing in; this creature was travelling at a ferocious speed.

"Stay low!" shouted Adonian. "If it's a bird of some kind, we need to stay low."

The graphics picked up the alien following - it was only 15 metres behind. The creature shrieked: it was loud, hauntingly unnerving.

Adonian issued an order.

"Send out an electrical impulse, then laser fire. In unison. Fire now!"

The electrical impulse would usually dislodge any foe, at least time enough to get away from an attack. Boom! The impulse was fired in unison, the creature shrieked even louder.

"Laser fire, now!" ordered Adonian.

Laser fire, intermittent, the mode was set to rapid fire, laser shots came cascading from the back of the land trackers. The target was meandering effortlessly from side to side, making the target far more difficult to home in on. The flapping noise was getting louder. A cry, a scream of agony, Leon had hit the target but it wasn't going away. The creature rose, high into the mist.  Now it was joined by others; the screeching confirmed that. The clearing approached, the graphics indicated the boundary of the forest. The land tracker was going too fast. A massive explosion. Meredon was a casualty - he could not have possibly survived the impact.

"It's Meredon. He's gone!" shouted Leon.

"Keep moving, almost there!" Adonian showing his leadership qualities, ensuring that Leon didn't dwell too much on his friend. They had travelled together, been friends since the age of five years old. Adonian knew it would break his concentration but he needed Leon to focus. "Leon, the clearing: increase velocity to maximum once we are clear of the forest. That's an order!"

Out of nowhere, the creature swooped, the wingspan must have been six metres. Adonian had glanced behind. A scream, a blood-curdling scream, then the explosion, just like Meredon. Leon's machine crashed into a tree trunk, this time without a passenger. The alien bird had got its prey. Adonian looked ahead; Leon had gone now. He had to make it to the ship. The mist disappeared; he had made it to the clearing.

Nearly all the fleet had gone. Tulia had left with the others on the orders of Ulyius. Despite her pleas, he insisted she leave. He had gathered the women and children, plus the males who weren't warriors or hadn't been chosen to fend off the creature. All but one ship remained. His orders were to reach an altitude high enough to visualise the events below, be in a position to abandon Ulyius if his mission to rescue the three heroes failed.

From above, the chase unfolded, in dramatic fashion, only one emerged from the forest, the two explosions could be viewed by the fleet of craft as the passengers looked down in anguish, fear. Whoever survived was travelling at top speed, heading towards Ulyius. The sight behind Adonian was frightening: a  flock of creatures following, seemed like hundreds, a swarm of giant bats.

Ulyius waited. He was at the helm, the craft ready to depart the second his friend boarded. From inside the spacecraft he could see Adonian approaching. He looked to the heavens, at a vision he could no longer comprehend. These were creatures in flight, massive wingspans, bat-like wings, human-shaped torso. The screams deafening, closing in fast.

"Ulyius, is the ship ready?" said Adonian to his friend over the intercom.

"Yes, ready. Get the hell out of there, Adonian! They're closing!"

"I'm at top speed. The others are lost. Fend them off as I get closer."

"Got it! Just get back. They're everywhere!"

Ulyius needed to distract them. Adonian had kept low to the ground, weaving occasionally. He kept looking behind; he was close to the ship. Ulyius unloaded a tirade of fire straight into the pack of creatures. They scattered; he had displaced the flock. Another bout of laser shots, firing relentlessly. The flock dispersed, but there were just too many of them. Ulyius couldn't activate the force shield to protect those inside the craft until his friend was safely on board.

Adonian was ten metres away; the door to the craft opened. He glanced behind: the laser fire had dispersed the attackers but they were close. He locked the docking device on his tracker; the machine would dock the ship automatically but painstakingly slowly. Ulyius looked on. This would be tight, and if he didn't make it, Adonian would be history, so would the crew, as these creatures would surely enter the craft.

The alien bats were so close they were distinguishable: a type of hybrid between a Pterosaur and a human. The wings,  resembling a bat's, looked awkward. The head of the creature had human-type features. No nose, though, just an opening for nostrils; the teeth large and pointed; a mouth larger in proportion to any human's; the eyes blood-red and bulging. The creature had arms with hands and legs with feet, suggesting it could walk. The fingers were long, the nails like small knife blades. The torso was scaly, grey, ugly.

_What the hell are these creatures?_ thought Ulyius, not that he wished to hang around to find out. The on-board computer was set to manual; the ship would be airborne within seconds of Adonian boarding.

The ship drew closer, just a few metres away. The land tracker inched towards the ship, the graphics indicating auto docking. _Come on, come on!_ thought Adonian. The thought of Tulia crept into his thoughts; his mother, too. He could hear the screeches from these monster creatures and dared not look behind.

He was inside the ship, almost, the door ready to auto close. A claw poked inside the ship, Adonian dismounted. This thing was almost inside, the door unable to close completely. The passengers screamed as more creatures tried to enter. These monsters were all over the ship. Their screeching sounds were unbearable.

"Activate force shield!" shouted Adonian to his friend. Ulyius had to override the craft - the force field would not activate until the craft was sealed and all doors closed. He pushed aside the holograph images like swiping images on a smartphone. "Force field override! Come on, where's the manual override? It's here somewhere."

Adonian came running into the cockpit. "Move!" He ordered away his friend, the cries of fear from the passengers escalated. "Override! Override! Come on!" said Adonian in a panic.

The blast from the force field drew a screech from the alien, it lost its grip on the door and was jettisoned from the craft. The door shut.

"Get this ship out of here!" said Adonian.

"Everyone get strapped into your seats, and quick! We're blasting off!" said Ulyius.

It wasn't until the craft reached several hundred metres that the alien demons released their grip on the ship. They fell away, one by one, each gliding back to their murky, dense forest.

Ulyius reported to the rest of the fleet. A voice came through, the graphics confirmed that the ships had reached the outer atmosphere of this planet, a planet many passengers now considered inappropriate.

Tulia wanted to know the truth: was Adonian the one escaping the forest? Did the creatures reach him? Did he escape or had he perished in the explosions? She almost didn't want to know.

"Tulia, it's me, Adonian. Everything all right?" Adonian was being his usual self, trying to keep things normal.

Tulia couldn't answer; the tears were too much, her emotions too high, the relief unbearable. She wanted to shout at her husband, slap his face for putting her through the agony, at the same time she just wanted to kiss him, hug him, remind him that he was loved. The kiss with Ulyius haunted her at this moment. Through the emotion, she managed to utter a few words, although they were almost incomprehensible.

"I'm fine," she said. "At least, I am now. You're late, what kept you?"

Adonian smiled through his tears at the suggestion the he might still be in trouble, even having survived a potentially unthinkable assault, one which would most definitely have compromised his existence. He could read his wife, he knew  this character - attack was a just a protection barrier, a method she used to block out the thought of what could have been.

He knew more than ever that he loved his wife, no matter where they may end up, on this godforsaken planet or in another equally hostile world. As long as they had each other, they had a future, there was hope.

Adonian looked at his friend, both now had tears. "Let's join the others."

The fleet surveyed the planet further. There was fear amongst the passengers that 'Drayzaks', as they called them, might dominate, that wherever they settled might result in the same dilemma as the island they had just evacuated. The graphics homed in on another possible land mass, an area large enough to be deemed a continent. The ship's infra-red imagery, specifically built in to locate alien life, indicated very little, although it had offered similar assurances of the island, so there was scepticism.

"Zoom in on the area south-east of the land mass," said Adonian. The land in general was forest, but one area of open land looked promising. Geographic contouring revealed a mountainous region.

"Seek level ground," insisted Ulyius. The hologram twisted and revolved, following the command, auto-zooming located the most appropriate landing site. A small area, approximately three kilometres by two was highlighted by the graphic.

"Compound check, also the density at ground level." Adonian was taking no chances. The elements suggested soil, sand and silt, together with rock. Turning to his friend, he gave an instruction: "Copy this imagery with rest of the fleet, propose a landing formation and then advise that we begin descent. We have found our new home."

The landing was smooth, the fleet descended in unison, gently lowered vertically, jet boosters ensured safe grounding  of the craft. The heat was menacing as the interplanetary voyagers finally emerged from the craft, their haven, home for the past nigh-on 80,000 years. The relief visible among those on board, there was no evidence of predators, the sound was pleasant, quiet. The ship's food supply would last a month, tops, the cryogenically preserved vegetables would enhance rations; preserved seeds, frozen, would hopefully produce a harvest. Land trackers blessed with a technology to identify edible growth on the planet would reduce the risk of poisoning. As far as meat went, that would have to be assessed. One thing was for sure: nobody wished to sample Drayzak as a delicacy.

The abundance of trees ensured adequate natural material to build shelter in the short term. A new home was found, the island the obvious place to avoid. All in all, the future was looking far more promising. Just two casualties to date; nobody wanted to consider the fate of Leon, especially Ulyius who had witnessed the result of almost being a victim to a Drayzak.
**CHAPTER 33**

**SHUT DOWN**

A magnitude of craft hovered menacingly at a height bordering on the stratosphere, 63 kilometres above the Earth's surface; a white haze of airspace, almost inhospitable, now owned by this alien source.

The unknown craft waited, silent, indistinguishable to the human eye, a dormant squadron of alien craft, frighteningly patient. Their total fleet in excess of 500 motherships was eclipsed by an immeasurable number of drones, high enough not to be a visible threat, low enough to be a warning.

The spacecraft dotted around the globe were being orchestrated by the maestro, Qudor Volkan. Originating from planet X1285, his great-great-grandfather had been a pioneer. His name, now a legend, was Ulyius Volkan; his mother, Tulia.

Qudor knew the history, the vast exodus from planet Earth, the suffering their ancestors had endured, the asteroid that robbed them of a bright future on their home planet. His ambition to reclaim the planet was his birthright. The planet was millions of years younger when the migration of the chosen few made the epic journey across the cosmos.

After taking 78,018 Earth years to reach planet X1285, now renamed Olympiana, travelling at only 30,000 kilometres an  hour, the cryogenically frozen bodies reached their destination. Time on Earth moved much quicker as the fleet of craft distanced themselves from their home planet.

The Earth beings, now inhabitants of Olympiana, became technologically advanced. Anonymity was their solace. They avoided the Council of the Light. Why should they register their weapons and spacecraft with a galactic body which served no purpose? Nobody was there to save them from the asteroid, no alien race came to their rescue. In their eyes, they belonged to the planet of their ancestors. Earth was their home; no footprint from another alien race could match their right to claim what was ancestrally theirs.

The vast motherships carried cargo. The plan was about to unfold. They cared not about the other alien imposters, nor did they care not for this new, emerging civilisation hell bent on destroying the planet of their ancestors. Monitoring the species known as humans only bolstered their eagerness to rid their planet of this menacing life form, uncivilised, backward and primitive.

The motherships were all in sync. It was time.

The weapon had been refined. It had been tested on New York and caused devastation. The 'electromagnetic pulse wave' had disabled the stock exchange - that was a sweetener for the main event. Qudor had positioned his many craft strategically above the major capitals.

'Unleash' was the word that would initiate temporary disablement of our technology - the very essence of human existence - upon which we rely and without which we could not function. The word was spoken at midday on 27th February 2018. Qudor gave the order. Then came a boom! resonating from the skies above the major capitals, a thunderous, sustained echo. Media channels shut down instantly, internet eradicated, all  phone transmissions obliterated, all means of communication a thing of the past, for now.

Qudor studied the image in front of him in the space capsule: the globe, a perfect duplicate of his ancestral planet. He was a warrior, a devious but utterly ruthless charmer. He ran his operation through fear. Drayzaks proved a valuable deterrent. At only 1.73 metres he wasn't blessed with height. Qudor didn't keep pets; he kept Drayzaks. Chaining these mutant beasts only enhanced their vulgarity, their viciousness, primed for the next subject who dared to cross him.

Qudor studied the image further, the pulse would soon lead to anarchy, looting, lawlessness. He just had to be patient for a while, let chaos ensue. These imbeciles would show their true colours - just the excuse needed to justify the next horrifying onslaught.

************************

Leon awoke, dazed, bruised from the fall. The Drayzak had dropped him from a great height. He found himself tied to one of the trees, tightly bound to the trunk. He tried to reason with his mind, which by now was delusional, get a true picture of his predicament. It didn't help. Looking around he could see corpses at various stages of decay. Most had no eyes, savagely clawed at, the bare minimum of clothing visible following an obviously frantic ravenous assault. The corpses on the ground appeared to be female. The cocooned hovering from the trees, he deduced, must be male.

The Drayzaks were huddled together, no more than ten metres away. They were ugly, for sure. They could converse, a language which mimicked regurgitating food, a nightmare species of indescribable horror.

Over in the distance he could see an area cordoned off. More female alien species, normal-looking aliens, in the wrong place at the wrong time, being raped by these ugly, grotesque, scaly, evil critters. This was some kind of cross-breeding ceremony. Leon dared not contemplate.

He wished he hadn't survived. Whatever was in store, his best negotiating skills were certainly not going to spare him.

Movement in the trees. He was awoken, which meant these monsters would inflict their punishment. First, his eyes. The creature drew close, Leon felt his breath on his face, the smell excruciating, rotting food, worse - rotting flesh. A razor fingernail prodded one of his eyes, then gouged it out in one precision movement; the pain was indescribable. The monster ate it, slavering profusely. The ogre's bulging, deep-red eyes squinted in delight as he crunched on Leon's eyeball. It popped. He laughed, or hissed, Leon wasn't sure which. What he was sure of, frighteningly, was that he would not see this murdering beast eat his other eye. The gathering made hissing noises as the creature devoured his second eye. "Kill me now! Please, kill me now! You ugly bastard!" screamed Leon, the pleasure from insulting his captor would be the only slight relief from what would be an agonising death.

The beast forced his disgusting hands into Leon's mouth, prised it open, breaking his jaw, the crack or the fracture sickening. Leon screamed again. Something was forced down his throat, pushed down with an instrument Leon did not want to consider. The content forced into his gut. He could feel the slime, a living mucus moving frantically in his stomach.

He was hauled up, Leon could feel himself rising up among the trees, the hissing below got louder. The rustling of the trees suggested these creatures were monitoring the operation. The lifting stopped abruptly. Leon felt the hot waxy substance being  applied to his head. It stuck to his face, closed his nostrils; he could not breath. Agonisingly, he squirmed, his legs kicked out, he could hear the hissing. It must be laughter; it was clearly a noise of pleasure. The suffocation was a blessing; he would no longer have to suffer.

It would be three months before the Drayzak baby monsters would rip their way out of Leon's stomach.

********************

Everything shut down in an instant. The major capitals were disabled. Power stations were shut down, all lights turned off instantly. Citizens ran out into the streets to see what the problem was, the only light visible came from car headlights.

Retailers, shopping centres, taxi firms, traffic lights, all defunct, following the electromagnetic pulse wave attack. Some generators managed to kick in, there were a few household lights as a result, but very few. Alarms rang around the city, of no use, the intense darkness rendering them ineffective.

Qudor could see the lights extinguished below, a sight to behold.

Times Square, New York; Piccadilly Circus, London; Red Square, Moscow; The Bird's Nest, Beijing; The Champs Elysees, Paris; and most world-famous destinations lifeless, devoid of any illumination.

The lights to the White House, whilst temporarily disabled, were restored, the backup generator able to revitalise the electricity supply. The bunker beneath equipped to deal with a nuclear attack was unscathed. All communications, however, were temporarily suspended.

It took less than an hour for the looting to start. The shopping malls the first target, the endless sirens of sophisticated  alarm systems redundant as an effective deterrent. Windows smashed with any implement available and big-ticket items were the looters' first target: televisions, phones, jewellery, cash machines, tills, fuel at petrol stations, clothing stores, you name it. People in the cities panicked, screaming, running away, but from what, they were unsure.

As a civilisation, some degenerated instantly into mindless thugs, opportunists, thieves. It was clear that the reliability on modern-day advances merely camouflaged what was underneath; our species transformed instantly into wild animals.

Cars careered the streets in gay abandonment, multiple crashes, many fatalities, women and children mown down like skittles.

The ephemeral thrill of social media was made worthless in an instant. Big companies' share prices fell to zilch, leaving stock markets unable to trade. The financial institutions worthless, cyber currency of no use, in this new dog-eat-dog environment.

The stage on Earth was set, prime for annihilation. Qudor's plan was coming together.
**CHAPTER 34**

**THE DAXZUS FACTOR**

The woodland was still, the spaceship stationary, a familiar sight. The mission to accost Annaluce, for a second time, was under way. Despite Oosapeth's disdain for his comrade's unnecessary trip back to Zarduzian, Dane refused to listen.

Dusk was setting in, the lights of the capital displayed an impressive city, enveloped by the wall, imprisoning the elite. Dane knew the location of the apartment blindfolded, but this would be a tricky operation as he had no idea how to navigate the capture of the one to whom he was now so uncharacteristically attached.

Dane now carried baggage in the form of Serenix, an added concern he could do without. She had begged Dane to let her travel with him; an argument ensued in the portal at the volcano. Oosapeth, oblivious to his daughter's insubordination, was studying in the War Room, pitting his wits against an unknown opponent, putting in place the finer points of an attack. Dane had considered carrying her to the war chamber and confronting Oosapeth, but the look in her eyes mirrored his; the same worry he had for Annaluce an agonising reflection of his own.

"Your father demanded you stay," the lack of conviction, even in his robotic translated voice, signified an unconvincing argument. "I cannot go against his word."

"You feel the same for Annaluce. You think it is different for me?" Dane had paused enough in his reply, so Serenix boarded the ship without confrontation, confident in the knowledge that there would be little resistance. They were both on the same, perilous page. As they entered the spacecraft, Dane just had to make his position clear.

"Stray, and you are on your own," declared Dane.

"We are both on the same quest. This is not about the war," replied Serenix.

Dane dwelled on his predicament with Serenix. Was it safe enough to take her over the force field, the wall? What resistance would they meet? Had Annaluce betrayed him? What would Oosapeth do if Serenix perished?

Serenix would pillion with him, close enough to guarantee the best protection he could offer. The decision was made.

The Trollozyte spacecraft was aptly equipped. The terrain-busting land vehicles were impressive. Dane and Serenix on one, two trusted warriors occupying the second. Squalors were the first hurdle. With no sign of the Games, the land ahead looked pretty clear. The evening sky glowed orange, the squalors mere shadows. Land vehicles at the ready, the visuals were on display, the distance to the wall approximately two kilometres.

Initiate the sound suppressors, venture out from the woodland, rise to a height of 200 metres to avoid disturbing the squalors. Negotiate the force field, then the wall. _After that, anyone 's guess_, thought Dane.

Serenix held on to Dane for dear life, despite the body harnessing encapsulating her. The squalors hardly noticed the vehicles above, a few minor cries as they were spotted, but  nothing that might raise suspicions. Darkness was drawing in, enough of a camouflage to navigate the wall.

Serenix noticed the catapults, periodically aligned at the top of the Great Wall. One or two had bodies strapped in, the catapult fully drawn, poised. The colour caught her eye. The suit the victim donned was grey with orange pebble-dash over splash. Exactly the same design and colour of the suit her pilot was wearing. Serenix knew the vehicle's capability, the specification, she could call on any one of the features instantly.

"Night vision!" she shouted. The visual of the graphic changed, Dane turned around to see why she had shouted; Serenix pointed to the wall, the victim. A picture formed, a visual of the wall. "Zoom 56 and 3!" Dane, not aware of what these co-ordinates meant, decided to let Serenix take charge. The picture blurred a little, then focused to a pixel clarity which depicted the advanced technology on display.

A tired face, a helpless victim. The visual familiar to Dane but, more importantly, to Serenix. It was her beloved, James.

The guards patrolling the wall were the problem. Dane contemplated. Annaluce was still prevalent, the sole purpose of the trip, but he couldn't abandon James.

The guards were placed between the catapults looking distinctly uninterested. The land vehicles easily merged with the night traffic. The portal had an influx of alien visitors, the bubbles were abundant, trafficking travellers around the capital, not to mention personal varied craft flying to and from the floating cities. The guards had become accustomed to all manner of aerial craft. Boredom had set in.

Dane lowered the craft and ordered his comrades to circle, whilst he dealt with the dilemma below; he had no choice with Serenix a passenger. The wall was at least five metres thick, the top flat, protective barriers to prevent certain death from a  fall, but with gaps to allow Death Baiters a launching platform. Dane landed the craft, insisting Serenix remain silent. This was a breach of security; the wall a no-go area both for visitors and Zaagan civilians. Dane stood menacingly; the guard approaching looked on nervously. The weapon pointed directly at Dane, fixed on his forehead.

Dane's translator bar across his mouth was a common feature of alien visitors; it wouldn't draw attention. The knife underneath his forearm was concealed.

"We are lost," Dane informed the guard. "No bubble craft available. Got that machine over there but I can't operate it properly," a weak effort to deceive the guard.

The guard walked further towards Dane, suspiciously. Behind him, a mere ten metres away, was James. The swiftness of his move was impressive, the knife slitting the throat of the guard instantly. Dane used the nearest gap in the barrier to rid the wall of this now dead Zaagan.

Serenix instinctively ran over to the catapult.

The contraption was impressive: iron, a heavy-duty coiled spring that wouldn't look out of place on a monster truck. James was strapped carefully, metallic ropes held him in position. A movement too heavy would activate the coil. Dane inspected the device, keeping an eye on the other guards heading in his direction. The head of the catapult was locked into a grip which released via a hydraulic arm, an extension of the base of the catapult. There were two levers: one to release James from his agonising grip; the other which must catapult him to a certain death. The other guards were getting closer.

"James, hang on!" said Dane. "I think this is the release."

"Just do it, and quick! The guards have spotted you!" screamed James.

Dane pressed the lever, grimaced and shut his eyes tightly. He would hear the coil release if he had chosen incorrectly.

"Done. Head over there to the land vehicle. I'll sort the guards. Just run!" yelled Dane.

James was relieved beyond description. Serenix hugged him once he was free of his shackles. Dane wanted to murder them both for what was, in his opinion, an unwarranted delay. He then wondered if he would succumb to a similar weakness should he find Annaluce alive.

The land vehicle housed four passengers; Dane wasn't looking to pillion the guards. He shouted; James and Serenix responded. They were off in an instant, in the air before the guards could question Dane further. He knew that the release of James Eaton would filter through quickly.

His comrades viewed the rescue from above, synced with Dane once he was clear of the wall and awaited instructions. Dane had spotted the apartment and made a beeline for the roof. He would figure out the rest once he had deposited the land vehicle safely.

The Zarduzian capital was a sight to behold, despite the arrogance of the inhabitants. The array of machines in flight, all kinds of shapes littered the sky, some arriving back from the floating cities, some careering around the capital, colours of every conceivable variant. Dane looked below at the extravagant rooftop gatherings, wealth of an obscene nature on full display. He had little time for it but, in contradictory fashion, had an unhealthy admiration for the grotesque vulgarity of wealth on display.

"Over there!" said Dane, pointing to the twisted, high-rise apartment.

"What's the mission?" asked James as he gathered his wits.

"Annaluce," said Dane.

The apartment was in sight. Dane would need to rise to a level high enough to negotiate a safe and undetected landing. He knew the vehicle docking area from the last operation and could only hope for a guard-free landing. The vehicle port was quiet - a bit too quiet - the land vehicles were shut down. Dane insisted he go alone. Serenix and James were almost relieved; it made sense. Who would want to face the being with the black beads?

"Stay here!" a simple command from Dane.

"James, are you all right?" asked Serenix. The first opportunity she'd had to speak following the rescue.

"I am now. You don't know what it means to see your face," said James.

"You don't have to say," said Serenix as she kissed him. This was different, the thought of losing James unbearable.

Five metres, Dane was running but crouched down. He reached the first support pillar. James had given him the lowdown on the apartment; the entrance would be challenging - an automatic door retina receptive - _nothing a laser and brute force couldn 't sort_, thought Dane. He reached the entrance to Annaluce's apartment. There was no door - somebody had beaten him to it. The door had been blown away.

Dane ran inside, armed and ready. The picture unfolded. Four bodies: two henchmen shot in the head, clearly dead, a girl lying face down, dressed in gold with blood seeping from the back of the dress. He knew the fourth victim: Annaluce, strewn across the table. A gold casket on its side, the head of Kosuke a stark indication of the brutality Annaluce had been subjected to.

Dane ran towards her, then checked in with his comrades.

"Four down! Start the vehicles!" He was ready to make a quick exit. The attack had been planned. How they knew Dane  might be on his way and beaten him to it was baffling. He lifted her head; she was alive! A bad wound to the right shoulder, but that seemed to be the extent of her injuries. A fireman's lift and he was out of the apartment heading towards the roof.

Annaluce awoke, dazed and confused, a face staring down at her. Even with her blurred vision she could recognise the individual: Dane Vhastek. Tears weren't his style, but this was an exception. She was alive. She hugged him, despite the pain in her shoulder, and he put up no fight. She pulled away sharply.

"My father - they have my father!" said Annaluce, desperately. Despite sometimes despising her father, he was still her father. The thought that he was in grave danger drew an instinctive reaction that you would expect from a daughter.

"Your father's alive?" said Dane. He had thought of reminding her that he should be dead.

"James, he is in grave danger. He's strapped to some kind of catapult. We have to save James" Annaluce started to focus more clearly. She could make out another image behind Dane, another face looking on from a distance, it was that of James Eaton.

"He's safe. He's here. Now, Annaluce, think clearly. Do you know who the attackers are?" asked Dane.

"It was so fast. They entered, they fired, took my father, then were gone," Annaluce pretty much summing up her ordeal in one sentence.

"Rest, Annaluce, we talk later when you are more rested," said Dane. He had more pressing problems.

*************************

The War Room in the volcano showed a gloomy picture. The battle plan was in tatters following the recent electromagnetic  pulse wave attack. Mayhem, chaos, all communications compromised. This was turning into a ground offensive.

The holographic imagery uncovered a worrying development: the F-16 squadrons and stealth bombers were now grounded in Antarctica, surrounded by the unknown aliens. These captured aircraft, complete with nuclear weapons, now in the hands of the enemy. They had beaten the coalition to the portals, both the portal at CERN and deep in the solar system were guarded by motherships of this unknown alien power. Their every move outmanoeuvred. They had captured Daxzus, not that Dane or Oosapeth cared. They owned the humans' military might, had disabled Earth's communications and controlled the portals, except for one: the portal a few metres away from the War Room.

Everyone gathered, except for Annaluce. All looked disillusioned, beaten. The Earth a centrepiece, like a chess game, this was check, not quite checkmate, but check nonetheless.

Bella studied the globe.

"Zoom in on the F-16s," she said.

Oosapeth duly obliged, somewhat bemused. He zoomed in further. There it was: a spacecraft that he knew all too well, a craft that his daughter had been sent to recover.

"They have the portal amplifier!" Oosapeth announced.
**CHAPTER 35**

**A CHANCE MEETING**

The land was good, free of Drayzaks as a natural habitat. Over the years to come, the new arrivals settled. From modest beginnings, the 'Earth beings' had built cities.

Tulia was expecting their first child; Ulyius was filled with pride, Adonian with envy. He had known in his heart his wife would stray.

The first-generation arrivals shaped a civilisation for the future. The Council included Adonian at the helm. Ulyius had been selected to set up the military, necessary to ward off the Drayzaks. Evidence of other alien visits were clear; most had absconded, Drayzaks the suspected cause of a hasty exit.

The monsters only dominated the island, a huge island occupied by millions, their bat-like wings restricted travel over the oceans and flights to the nearest land mass were severely hampered. One or two had ventured to the Earth beings' new pastures, but not enough to challenge their survival.

The Drayzaks, ironically, had needed other alien beings to evolve into their terrifying form. An interbreeding had increased their intelligence level but resulted in a horrifying mutation. Their eggs slimy, a kind of enlarged frogspawn,  grew in the alien victim's stomach. The cocooning in the waxy honeycomb, a substance derived from regurgitating the female victims' remains once consumed and digested, was for the benefit of the male aliens. The eggs grew in the stomachs of the dead males, hanging like fruit from the tall trees. Once the baby Drayzaks hatched, they fed off the corpse, leaving behind a gaping hole for the young to flee. If they weren't preying on alien visitors, normal beasts wandering around the forest would be an alternative.

One or two Earth beings fell prey to the Drayzaks, but not enough to prevent a growing civilisation. Ulyius kept them at bay.

******************************

Now 300 years later, a new generation of Olympiana descendants, to whom Earth was now a mere ancestral planet, took the helm. Those first pioneers were icons of the new generations. Stories of their bravery in fending off the Drayzaks were legendary. The leaders of this new era derived from two family groups: the military leaders were of the Volkan family name; the political elite, the Cerestulas.

Major advances in their technology had seen capital cities arise in this new world.

The new portal technology, however, arrived purely by chance.

Many alien landings on the island had seen the Drayzaks multiply further.

An alien landing that was on a fact-finding mission had a moderate fleet of six; Olympiana had been earmarked as a possible planet to propagate. With no known knowledge of any intelligent life form, this was an exploratory exercise to  potentially expand the Zaagan presence in the galaxy. A natural portal was within a million kilometres, sufficient to send a small investigative fleet.

Like the early Earth beings, the island seemed a good choice. An exercise to establish suitability, check for life forms, signs of intelligent life. The landing was good, they ventured out, the heat exhausting, many of the crew discarding their protective space suits and stripped to the bare minimum of clothing.

They had heard the flapping in the forest, their mission to explore further led to a number of the expedition falling into the trap. As with Leon, one or two returned in haste, followed closely by ravenous Drayzaks, eager to subject their victims to excruciating pain and, ultimately, death.

The commander was Axel Ordanis.

"Back inside the ship!" shouted Axel as he spotted his comrades being snatched by Drayzaks.

"We can't just leave them, Commander," replied his second-in-command, Cazar.

"We can't fight these creatures off either; too many."

"Laser fire, Commander. Give them cover; they can make it."

"We can't risk the operation - no good if we all perish," said Axel, determined to retreat.

"I'm staying, Axel. It's a death sentence without our protection. Who's staying with me?" a direct request from Cazar to his unit.

"It's no good, Cazar. I'm ordering you to retreat inside the ship. Now!" demanded Axel, pulling rank. The men were none too keen on Cazar's order and were visibly retreating.

"Cowards!" shouted Cazar.

The cowards locked the doors, leaving their friends to suffer a gruesome final act. The Drayzaks clawed at the craft,  baying for blood, agonising screams echoing in the still, midday air. Those inside could see their comrades snatched, like kingfishers carrying small catch. When the monsters fled, their victims writhed in agony. The crew and their commander, who remained, would bestow any accolade possible on a likely rescuer. It wasn't looking imminent, though.

"They're breaking into the ship, Commander. Ripping away at the hull. I don't think we can energise," said Petre, the flight operator.

"Use the force field," said Axel, now fearing for his life. He was an out-and-out coward.

Suddenly, Cazar was splattered against the capsule window, half eaten, no eyes.

"I can't energise!" screamed Petre, fearing for his life as he stared at the dismembered Cazar. "They're all over the damn ship, Commander! They'll be through any time soon."

Screams from the creatures gave a ray of hope. The Drayzak chewing away at Cazar screeched in agony and fell away, as did the other monsters swarming the spacecraft.

Someone had come to their rescue. His name: Qudor Volkan.

*************************

The commander of the fleet, Axel Ordanis, was invited to a banquet in the capital, Argenika. Qudor could be charming, but those who knew him in the capital feared him, an evil psychopath. For this epic meeting, however, he was on a charm offensive.

Qudor, despite the temptation, decided to keep his pets safely locked away. Drayzaks didn't mingle well at the best of times; it might be considered particularly offensive for this banquet, due to ordeal of the guests.

The building was sublime, a pyramid shape of black glass enhanced the ambience from within. At a height of 200 metres, this was the most impressive landmark in the city. Equally impressive inside, its great entrance hall was the focal point. To look up was to see striking stalactite icicle formations, illuminated in an array of brilliant colours.

Guests stood, as instructed, in their designated positions on the circles etched indelibly on the floor, almost as honorary dignitaries. The circumference of the circles, laser-cut out of the marble floor, perfectly engineered, allowed just the circular base to rise, as if on a cushion of air, to the level where the banquet was being staged, the view spectacular. Greeting them, servants. The male guests were joined by some of the most elegant girls in Argenika, a similar hospitality shown to the female guests, by handsome males who escorted them.

Axel was introduced formally to Qudor, this time civilly rather than as a helpless victim during the Drayzak onslaught.

"Axel Ordanis," said the female servant, introducing him.

"Good to formally meet. I trust the surroundings are to your liking. I can assure you that this is a Drayzak-free zone." Not quite the truth, but Qudor's charm disguised the lie.

"May I thank you and your warriors, without whom we would not be able to witness this wonderful banquet," said Axel, a heartfelt statement and no hint of guilt at betraying his comrades left to die.

The others were introduced, around 20 guests in attendance. The food looked tantalising. Staged on a long table with no supporting legs, it simply suspended in mid-air. The table split into eight smaller segments and moved, unhindered, around the room to deliver food to the guests.

"Impressive," remarked Axel. "Can you ship one out to Zarduzian? In fact, ship ten."

"It would take too long to reach you," exclaimed Qudor.

"Instant, surely?" replied Axel.

Qudor looked bemused. "Our flight speed is impressive, but instant? I don't understand."

Axel, realising that these beings hadn't mastered portal travel yet, but not wanting to insult, had to tread carefully with his reply.

"Let me help you. We stumbled across this method of travel ourselves only recently." Not true, but Axel could not insult his host. "Natural portals exist throughout the galaxy. They can also be created, under the right conditions and with the right equipment."

Qudor had his eureka moment. Portal travel opened up the opportunity to encounter other worlds, even the return to his ancestral planet, Earth. Axel continued to explain that portals had been mapped out, that they occur naturally as tears in the fabric of space. It was all the rage, a must.

"We use portals to trade throughout our galaxy. The Council of the Light restricts the trade to your home galaxy, until you obtain full licensing accreditation. Then it is inter-galactic trading," said Axel.

Qudor had no intention of conforming to the Council of the Light.

"What kind of trade?"

"Real estate. This building, for example. Does it have accommodation?" enquired Axel.

"Yes, on the higher levels."

"A worthy trade. Zarduzian has real estate available now, for exchange. Our floating cities are considered some of the most sought-after property, galactically." Axel would not normally discuss such things, but he was feeling at ease with his host, not to mention that it was thanks to him that he was having this conversation at all.

"Interesting. How would I trade?" asked Qudor.

"Our biggest trader on Zarduzian is Annaluce, the daughter of our Commander-in-Chief, Daxzus Zaetsalsae. They don't see eye to eye. She is supposed to honour her father's wishes but she's feisty, makes her own decisions. You'll like her. You must visit; I'll arrange it. The Death Bait Games commence shortly; Annaluce does much of her trading during the Games." Axel knew Annaluce would want to be the first to bag real estate of this calibre.

"Annaluce, a pretty name. The Death Bait Games sound intriguing. I would like to meet with her."

"You will. I promise," said Axel.

************************

The bunker was unaffected by the electromagnetic pulse wave attack from the alien craft, hovering high above Washington. The President, surrounded by his best military advisors, was coming to terms with this new threat. A cyber-attack of an indescribable nature, advanced enough to disable our internet, power stations, telecommunication and television networks. Camp David in ruins, the possibility of what these aliens could inflict was unthinkable.

Communications at Camp David were still live, as NASA's communications were unaffected, at least for the moment. A call came through to the bunker. The President took the call.

"A cyber-attack, Mr President. All communications in our major cities are disabled. I fear the alien race will move on to other areas, systematically destroying our power and communications. Thankfully, they haven't yet unleashed a physical attack. Although looting and violence in the cities is alarming enough," said Edmund.

"Edmund, I am relying on you. We have to remain here for a while. We are not sure if James Eaton or Dane Vhastek made it out of Camp David alive."

"Someone did, Mr President. A ship escaped from the woodlands; our satellites had zoomed in for the purpose of the meeting. It was chased in a fashion, but we don't believe they were caught. Mr President, the craft exiting Camp David seems to have docked," a nervous Edmund hesitated before disclosing the location: "at a location in Mexico, a volcano."

"A volcano? What next?" said the President. "If we know Dane's location, then we can be sure the enemy will. James and Dane are our only real hope to defeat this godamm enemy. Focus in on the volcano, keep me posted on developments. Let's hope James Eaton is all right and contacts us."

"Already under way, Mr President," said Edmund.

Edmund looked at the visuals. The aliens hadn't scrambled the satellite imaging; they hadn't yet blasted Florida, so the Kennedy Space Center was operable. _It would only be a matter of time_ , thought Edmund.

"You got a visual on the volcano?" Edmund asked Sebastian, following his call with the President.

"Yeah, nothing emerged as yet, and nothing attacking the entrance. We can only assume that whoever made it back alive is still in there," replied Sebastian.

"The enemy must strike soon. They are set up to do so. An interesting development at CERN, Seb. A number of enemy spacecraft seem to be heading towards CERN," said Edmund.

"It's difficult to know who's who. Let's hope it's the enemy. Maybe they've decided that they've had enough, throwing the towel in, so to speak," said Sebastian, sarcastically.

"Pigs will fly!" said Edmund. "I'll report this latest development to the President."

Another call came through in the bunker at Camp David. The room wasn't palatial, adequate enough to function, the obvious provisions for the long haul, access to satellite imagery and full communication. Similar bunkers operated in most of the major capitals around the globe. This call was from the Russian interpreter.

"We have seen the damage to Camp David. It must only be a matter of time for the rest of us. Do we have any alien assistance?" asked the Russian.

"Still awaiting confirmation. In the meantime, have you managed to evacuate?" asked the American President. "We can do little at the moment except wait."

"We are okay but there is chaos in the capital. Our satellite images indicate your F-16 fighter jets are stranded in Antarctica, as are our stealth bombers. Enough hardware to destroy many cities," said the interpreter.

"We can only pray to God at this time, I'm afraid. This is an intelligent life form far superior to ours. We are helpless at this time. I have London on the line, also Beijing, France and a whole host of leaders. Keep in touch, we all need each other in these desperate times."

The President signed off to deal with the other callers, all of whom had come to the same conclusion as the President: planet Earth needed divine intervention, or Mr James Eaton.

The unknown alien source was making further strategic moves. A group of spacecraft had indeed headed to CERN. A moderate number, but enough to surround the portal. The more worrying movement was the significant number of craft heading towards Mexico. With control over the major, now-dysfunctional capitals around the globe, the aliens were moving in for the kill.

The President would soon return to Washington to re-evaluate and confer with all his advisors, but the task was looking ominous.

************************

Qudor looked on at the chaos he had created with pride; this had been easier than anticipated. The other aliens were no match. Sitting at his control panel, the whole game playing out in front of him, his hologram image was predicting an annihilation. Dressed as a warrior in a black, bulky space suit made of thick fabric with heavy-duty metallic capping over the more delicate areas such as the knees, elbows and shoulders. His less-than-impressive stature - he was short compared with 2-metre high Dane Vhastek - made this inevitable victory sweeter.

His crew feared his authoritarian nature, which was legendary; it had helped him immensely in achieving the status he so desired. Any warrior who failed him was an excuse to watch his pet Drayzaks make a mess, eat them alive. One of his other servant warriors would be left to clean up afterwards, as a stark warning.

On the brink of claiming back their rightful inheritance, Qudor allowed himself to ponder, consider the changes he might make. First, one more surprise to unleash, one that would horrify, the one tactic he had been relishing. He had been patient with this surprise, his ace card.
**CHAPTER 36**

**OPERATION ICE**

Annaluce had recovered, pleased that James had been successfully rescued by the being who was proving to be her hero: Dane. She awoke from a long rest, a peaceful sleep, as much as could be expected, until the thought of the assault in her apartment and the abduction of her father made the waking up all the more painful.

In her youth, her father had doted on his favourite daughter. Annaluce, in return, adored him. He was an important dignitary; she had witnessed his rise to Commander-in-Chief, a privileged position. The Zaagans had always been sceptical about planet acquisition, propagating for the good of the universe. The terms imposed by the Council of the Light appeared foreboding, time consuming, and they had enough to worry about with the main problem of overpopulation.

Daxzus was ambitious, had sold his peers on the advantages of expansion to seek out a planet that would house the hierarchy of the 37 capitals, offer sanctuary from the ever-increasing threat of a squalor revolt. It was only a matter of time before their numbers became insurmountable. They had become savages; the elite would be overturned. He dabbled at first, with reasonably good intentions, but flouted the rules of  the Council. Daxzus had been admonished on several occasions by the Senate in Larquiston. Zarduzian could be served serious trade sanctions if found guilty of poaching the rights of others who had already laid claim to the propagation of distant planets. Their main income was trading real estate and resources; good trading relations had been established and Daxzus had put those arrangements in jeopardy.

Over time, Daxzus became more devious, ever more sinister, and began to ally with unsavoury alien races, those equally as rogue. To protect his own interests in the capital, his daughter, Annaluce, had been promoted to Ambassador for Interplanetary Real Estate Trading, but only as a devious long-term plan on his part to exploit further productive opportunities, most of which were questionable.

Annaluce arose from her bed, the thought of her father's abduction an irritating distraction once she had recollected his demise. The embarrassment of his desire to stray from the straight and narrow was playing on her mind. She needed to see Dane.

The War Room was congested, the developments being played out on the hologram of Earth devastatingly worrying. The coalition of forces fighting the unknown aliens was on full display, tactical propositions being played out, all kinds of permutations being input into the program to predict an outcome, hopefully favourable.

Oosapeth's concern: the captured portal amplifier.

"The codes are set for each amplifier in each craft, separate codes designated to that particular spacecraft," said Oosapeth, as the discussion developed and the stolen craft came into play, the exact same craft now resting alongside the human aircraft in Antarctica.

"Who knows the codes for that craft?" asked Dane.

"The engineers, and my daughter." He paused, then Oosapeth looked over at Serenix, almost apologetically, for getting her involved in this mess. "Only my daughter's sequence activates the amplifier."

Annaluce disturbed the discussion. Nobody noticed as they were analysing the data intently. Dane casually looked around to let her know that he at least had noticed.

"Daxzus had the clones, including the clone of your daughter, but she is now dead," said James, as he tried to fathom the plot out loud. "So, he must also have the codes," he said slowly as the jigsaw puzzle began to come together.

"And now the unknown enemy has Daxzus and your spacecraft," said Dane, looking at Oosapeth before pointing out that the enemy seemed to know their every action. "They arrived conveniently in Larquiston just before we did, to kidnap Daxzus. What are the odds of that happening?"

"Could they hack into your technology?" said Annaluce. "Could anyone have sabotaged the holographic programming?"

"It has been redundant for some time, I admit. Earth wasn't our priority, so it is possible that the technology at our bases on Earth could have been sabotaged," said Oosapeth.

"Then we must assume they are listening, watching, contemplating our every move. They must have known about the meeting at Camp David, so they hid, waiting for us to arrive, to ambush. If they knew that, then they must have known about my rescue mission. How are they doing this?" questioned Annaluce.

Scott McCabe intervened. He had listened intently, had observed the holographic images with great interest. Scott, over the years, had learnt to read people quite well, he had studied body language, could tell signs and had been watching the reactions to James's analysis. Preachers, faith healers, as  with hypnotists, had deduced that there are some individuals who are more susceptible to suggestion. He had used his skills well, to select victims, convince the congregation that he had spiritual powers, always with those he had identified as vulnerable, usually when he met members of the audience before the sermon. He could draw information, decipher who was more susceptible. There was a feeling of unease in the air in the War Room. He decided to offer a suggestion.

"If our enemy can eavesdrop, then we must say nothing. If they have hacked into your mainframe, we must not expose our plan on the hologram. There are only two of you who can create an effective strategy. You both draw lots, whoever draws the short straw remains silent, so that only Dane and Oosapeth know who the leader really is. Not a word spoken, the plan must be laid out on a written note."

The straws were drawn, a leader chosen. There was silence. Not a word.

Dane knew the next move; it would not be a plan deduced by a computer. This called for old-fashioned methods: decipher a plan in the mind, then act on it.

The result would not be what anyone expected.

************************

Qudor had his ships in position. His strategy was to wait, react to the opposition with his prior knowledge of their plans. He had, as Scott predicted, known their movements. They would be easy pickings; he held all the aces. Once he had ridded himself of the alien threat, the humans would be unable to defend themselves. He would unleash hell and reclaim what was rightfully his.

Qudor viewed his strategy on his holographic image, much in the same manner as Oosapeth. This was a game of chess, but  Qudor knew the opposition's move before they made it. It was checkmate, in his view.

The spacecraft was of a good size, not as sophisticated as the Trollozytes' nor the Undarthians', but functional. Their technology had advanced considerably since the original forefathers landed on the then planet X1285. For fear of an alien attack, the emphasis was on its military capabilities, defence against hostile aliens. Their laser capabilities eclipsed other alien craft. The upper platform of this gigantic ship was the control centre. Qudor would occupy the seat at the helm, orchestrate proceedings. A full 360-degree view of the battleground was assured.

The mid-section was a fighting machine with laser ports every few metres, so warriors could fire at will at any opposition. All a bit crude, but highly effective. The ship's speed capacity was lacking, the more advanced civilisations able to escape trouble far more quickly. What this ship lacked in velocity, it more than made up for in its ability to destroy the opposition. The craft doubled as a domestic warhorse on Olympiana. It could also transport heavy cargo, critical to this operation.

Qudor hovered over Washington. The night was clear. He was carrying cargo, a huge container in the basement of the craft.

The consignment was noisy, agitated.

Qudor was interrupted.

"The visitor you were expecting has arrived. He is in the torture chamber as you requested," said the warrior.

"I'm busy!" snapped Qudor.

The warrior delivering the news feared that Qudor might feed him to his pets, so he said nothing and left.

The torture room, used mainly to deal with insubordination, was where Qudor kept his pets. Daxzus would be primed, fear  for his life, tormented, by the time Qudor finally joined him in the chamber. His pets would be restrained, ofcourse, but the leash would stretch to within a few inches of his victim's face. He was in no rush to interrogate his victim; he would leave him a while to suffer.

************************

Dane led the posse out of the War Room. The base in the volcano was history. Oosapeth had to have total trust in his compatriot as the evacuation of the volcano meant only one thing: the base would be exterminated. As far as Dane was concerned, it was only a matter of time until the unknown alien source would know their whereabouts. They were sitting ducks, so why give the opposition the satisfaction?

Oosapeth had three ships at this base, enough for a full evacuation. Once the first two ships had escaped safely through the portal to the destinations which only Dane had decided upon, he would then be the last to evacuate, which would start a chain reaction to self-destruct the hideout. He had seen the alien craft heading towards the base; they were pedestrian in comparison to the speeds of both the Undarthian and Trollozyte warships; their estimated time of arrival had been calculated.

Once the unknown aliens' ships arrived, all 150 of them, they knew they would be under attack; their laser fire would be brutal. The more brutal the better. Dane and his comrades would be gone. The first laser fire would activate an explosion large enough to take out any alien craft within a kilometre of the base, irrespective of the designated number of unknown alien craft allocated to the task.

Round One of this chess game would be in favour of Dane.

Qudor entered the torture chamber and sat behind his transparent partition. His captive had a familiar look on his face - the same look as every other victim who had been subject to the horrors of Qudor's interrogations - one of absolute fear.

The Drayzaks were chained to the wall. Qudor wished to have a conversation with his victim, but his pets were too noisy, so they were stunned viciously and retreated immediately; they, too, had been treated abhorrently and knew what was in store if they failed to obey. Now that he had the full attention of his prisoner he could begin.

"I will make this easy for you. Tell me what you know and I promise not to let my pets free from their shackles," said Qudor, who always relished an interrogation. He was a master at the fear game.

Both were equipped with translator headsets; they sized each other up.

"What am I doing here? Who are you and what right do you have to kidnap me?" said Daxzus, with no inclination as to whether this would have the slightest impact on the conscience of his captor. He doubted it would.

Qudor reached out his right hand, paused, then looked at his victim as if he wished to savour every moment. The pain was excruciating, the same pain the two monsters at either side of him had suffered moments earlier. Daxzus screamed loudly, which annoyed Qudor. The electrical impulse was almost enough to render the victim unconscious, but devilishly deficient, on purpose.

"I don't think you understand the rules, Daxzus. I ask a question, you reply. Do you understand?"

Daxzus nodded violently; he didn't want another shock.

"I want to show you something. Look at the image on the screen," said Qudor. The partition screen doubled as a computer terminal. His commander had been notified to project the  image of the 150-strong spacecraft heading to Oosapeth's base in Mexico. The image portrayed the ships, the target identified, the estimated time to destruction less than an hour. The war game was playing out on the visual.

"We will come back to this image later," said Qudor. "All I need is the code sequence to activate the portal amplifier."

"I don't have it," replied Daxzus. The second shock was far more painful than the first.

"The codes!" demanded Qudor.

"I don't have them here!" insisted Daxzus.

"I know all about the cloning farms. You must have many clones, Daxzus. So, if my pets rip off one of your arms, you can replace it, right?"

Daxzus knew only the code that Serenix's clone had given him. He didn't have all the codes.

"Wait! I don't have the all the codes; I have some of them," said Daxzus.

Qudor was already losing patience. He needed the codes and he knew those at the base in Mexico would be history. Serenix would be at the base and only Daxzus and Serenix knew the codes. He had to get a result.

"You're playing games with me, Daxzus. My pets are very hungry." Qudor racked up the fear.

Daxzus was a shrewd operator, too.

"If you kill me, you lose the portal amplifier, correct?" asked Daxzus.

Time to rack up the pressure.

"You see the image on the screen?" said Qudor.

Daxzus nodded, if only to capitalise on this small reprieve offered to him.

"Those are my ships. The target is Oosapeth's hideout," said Qudor slowly, raising the tension. "Daxzus, do you know who is  in the cave apart from Dane Vhastek and Oosapeth? Someone you know very well?"

Daxzus looked puzzled.

"You see, Annaluce didn't die in the kidnapping; she is in the cave."

A relief, but now a nightmare.

"You will kill her anyway, whether I tell you the codes or not," said Daxzus. True, but he didn't know for sure.

Qudor changed tack. He released one of his pets, screamed an instruction, the Drayzak understood. The horror on Daxzus's face delighted Qudor. He would get the codes one way or another. The arm ripped away from his torso with ease, the pain unbearable, only his hand, still shackled, remained, hanging from the wall of his torture cell. What was to follow would be even more horrific.

A Drayzak, starved of meat, made light work of the snack. Its mouth bloodstained, the crunching of the bones in its jaws sickening. The screams from the other Drayzak, also starving, endured the horror show with envy. Daxzus knew that if he didn't give him the codes, the other Drayzak would enjoy a similar snack.

"Is this helping your memory, Daxzus?" probed Qudor, his calm demeanour confirming his cold, clinical psychopathic nature.

"How do I know you won't kill me anyway?" asked Daxzus.

"You don't," replied Qudor, mercilessly.

"I will not tell you the codes," insisted Daxzus. "Do you have the portal amplifier?"

Qudor knew that to kill him would mean zero control of the portal expansion unit. Serenix would be dead shortly; he had not gambled on Daxzus being so stubborn.

"Why do you ask?" said Qudor. He knew now that Daxzus would suspect that he needed him more than he was divulging.

"Lead me to the machine, I will punch in the codes. Even with this one arm I can carry out that function," said Daxzus.

A clever response, which temporarily guaranteed the safety of his other arm. Daxzus had almost passed out.

Qudor had to agree, but would not give him the pleasure of conceding. Out of sheer frustration he stunned the Drayzak who had fed. It cowered.

"Soon you will have no method to punch in the codes. Keep watching the screen, Daxzus," said Qudor as he left the torture chamber.
**CHAPTER 37**

**THE COURTSHIP**

Axel returned to Zarduzian safely. The planet propagation programme was slow, laborious; it was hit and miss to find suitable planets. Daxzus always left his daughter in charge of operations when he was on a mission. The exploration of planet X1285 had not been a success, not in so far as the prospect of propagation was concerned. Axel, though, was keen to tell Annaluce about the real estate opportunities.

Daxzus, at that time, was making final preparations for his latest project: Earth. The operation to abduct the seven victims was in its final stages. He had to create the illusion, the pixelated image, using clever holograms projected from a spacecraft outside the Earth's atmosphere using lasers. The creation of a real force field was complicated. Inside the force field would be a small portal to abduct the humans and return the clones to the same spot 36 hours later. This technique and wizardry were clever, perfected over many years.

The meeting was set up, Annaluce too curious not to invite this alien and discover the riches that might be on offer. The Death Bait Games were the perfect opportunity. Axel, as promised, returned to Olympiana, by portal, to set  up the transportation to Zarduzian via a natural portal, a million kilometres from planet X1285.

Axel escorted Qudor to his planet. They arrived at one of a series of transportation portals in Larquiston. Awaiting Qudor was the bubble transporter. This was a new world and Qudor found it hard to contain his excitement; it was a unique opportunity. He had something of value which he intended to trade and piggyback onto the immensely advanced technology of the Zaagans.

The bubble was faultless, transporting Axel and his guest effortlessly across the magnificent capital. Qudor savoured every second. He observed the opulence, the magnificence, a purpose-built Great Wall surrounded by the equally impressive force field. The city was alive, the Death Bait Games ready to commence. The skies awash with craft either optimising a strategic position to watch the spectacle or careering back and forth between the impressive floating cities. Retina recognition had been set up for Qudor to access the bubble; his translator headset ensured that no part of the negotiation would be misunderstood.

As the bubble rose, Annaluce's apartment came into view. A huge building, reflecting the city in the glass, the spiral shape of the building was like nothing Qudor had seen or imagined; his pyramid offering started to look like less of a bargaining tool. The Death Bait players were gathering below on the wall's summit. Annaluce had a prime position. As they rose above this stunning building in preparation to park the bubble, Qudor could already see that the rooftop gathering was in full swing.

"We will be landing over there," decided Axel, pointing to the area. "It will be a formal introduction. Annaluce will greet you and we will walk to the terrace together. I will leave once you are acquainted," said Axel.

Qudor wasn't dressed in combat clothing but a blue-and-gold tunic. He had a strong figure, a typical warrior build, a little on the short side but reasonably easy on the eye, white hair, brown eyes, good skin and a pleasant face with square jaw. He would be at his most charming.

Annaluce walked towards him, a gold gown leaving nothing to the imagination. She was breathtakingly stunning; it took Qudor by surprise. To Axel it was normal; everyone in the capitals on Zarduzian was gorgeous, access to the clone farms' genetically engineered looks of perfection extended life into the hundreds of years, assuring the citizens a paradise. The Zaagans had created the ultimate existence.

Axel introduced them.

"May I introduce the hero who saved our crew from certain death? Annaluce, this is Qudor Volkan."

Annaluce was intrigued; their race were not warriors, her father hired warriors when needed, usually Trollozytes. She had heard from Axel how Qudor had tamed the vicious beasts known as Drayzaks; he led the army and was a powerful alien. He was a little shorter than expected, nevertheless intriguing and surprisingly handsome. His brilliant-white hair was his striking feature.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. Come, let us feast," said Annaluce.

Qudor was in the presence of royalty on this planet. He realised he could become accustomed to this life very easily. He could also become very accustomed to Annaluce.

As usual, the dishes were served by drones from the fountain. Qudor had trouble taking it all in - this was a superior alien world. The multitude of guests were gathered around the holographic image which displayed the Games vividly. The view from the rooftop eclipsed anything Olympiana had to offer.  Qudor was almost embarrassed, yet determined to become close enough to Annaluce to gain a galactic advantage.

That evening Annaluce would only have eyes for Qudor; the other guests were mere pawns. She also had an agenda: to increase her own connections without having to rely on her father who, these days, was absent most of the time.

"So, Axel tells me you might have a property. He described it as 'the black pyramid'," said Annaluce, getting straight down to business.

"We call it the 'Sky Pyramid', for obvious reasons. We can talk about property later, Annaluce. You don't mind my being informal, do you?" asked Qudor.

"Perfectly fine, Qudor," said Annaluce, joining in with the informalities with an approving smile.

"Axel kept it quiet," said Qudor.

"I don't discuss my property portfolio with Axel," said Annaluce.

"I wasn't referring to your property, Annaluce; only your beauty."

Qudor took a sip of the drink he had been handed by the drone, the gold goblet exquisitely engraved with hieroglyphics and a detailed artist's impression of the capital in ultramarine blue.

Annaluce was impressed but refused to show it. She had to return the compliment, which, surprisingly, she found remarkably easy.

"Axel hadn't warned me either," said Annaluce. Her glance told Qudor everything he wished to know. The evening was showing signs of promise.

The Death Bait Games were a pleasant distraction. Axel was inspired; this was on a par with the adrenaline rush the Drayzaks instilled. Despite wanting to exhaust Annaluce of all  her insider knowledge, he also wished to take full advantage of her hospitality.

The Baiters lined up on top of the Great Wall in all manner of wonderful, colourful attire atop equipment ranging from basic flight machines to extravagant, heavily armoured vehicles, all cheered on by the baying crowd. Annaluce pointed to the crowds in the square below, the vision-enhancing lenses being useful for her guest to take a closer look at the frenetic behaviour of the ardent supporters of the Games.

A kill! The squalor looked in agony, the harpoon had scored and the victim was being air-lifted with great technical skill by the Baiter, the bolt landing just above the thigh. The squalor, still alive, offered the opportunity for the betting to start. Frantic exchanges with the traders followed, via voice-recognition bet activation, bets as to what the demise of this poor soul might be.

Qudor joined in the action. He opted for a heavy bet at odds of 10 to 1 that the Baiter would fail and the squalor would fry in the force field. The Baiter wobbled, lost his balance, aborted the mission and released his harpoon carrying the victim.

Qudor has shown astuteness.

"Played this before?" asked Annaluce, with more than a hint of suspicion.

"Beginner's luck, no more than that," replied Qudor.

Annaluce showed off the terrace, introduced her new real estate partner to her distinguished guests, then around her apartment. The views were stupendous and Qudor found it easy to visualise this as a more permanent fixture.

"Let's get a little more comfortable," said Annaluce, with more than a hint of seductiveness. "Tell me about the Sky Pyramid."

Qudor gave a description of the outlay, the imposing building being the centrepiece of the city, the rather unusual lifts  to each floor from the foyer, which rose on fortified glass poles extending the height of the structure, high enough to survey the spectacular focal point: the stalactite-sculpted icicles.

"So, tell me, how does this real estate interchange work? For example, is this apartment available?" said Qudor, an indirect hint that he found it inviting, a comment she could take as his obvious approach towards gaining her affections.

"It might be, to the right suitor," she replied, not exactly casting aside his approach. "We deal mainly in lease rather than ownership. Greater revenues."

"What might I expect?" said Qudor.

"A personal inspection is advisable." This was a lie; Annaluce used her traders to do her dirty work. Qudor wasn't to know this. She intended to see first hand the power of this intriguing guest.

"Your father is out of town, so to speak." Thus began Qudor's fishing exercise.

"He's generally, shall we say, 'out of town'." A hint of annoyance crept into her voice. "This time a planet called Earth. I believe we have propagation rights, but you can never be sure with my father." Another disapproving swipe.

"I don't understand," replied Qudor.

"Oh, it's just some silly law we have the Council of the Light to thank for. Propagation is always contested. It seems this alien species is in trouble. Self-annihilation, quite common in the galaxy," said Annaluce in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Interesting," said Qudor, not wanting to sound too inquisitive.

"Let me show you," said Annaluce.

The holographic image was impressive; the Zaagans had perfected this imagery, far more precise, more detailed, and many more features than Qudor's model back home. The  system homed in on the general location. As the holographic image became clearer, the penny dropped. This was the planet of his ancestors, the world he had more rights to than any other alien species. He couldn't let his anger get the better of him. Although he was furious, he would need to play this carefully.

"You must visit the Pyramid; no time like the present. How about after the Games?" asked Qudor, in an attempt to woo his host. His intentions had now changed in an instant; with the assistance of a portal, she could lead him to his claim: Earth.
**CHAPTER 38**

**BLIND SIDE**

Qudor watched the image in his capsule; he could clearly see his ships approaching the hideout, just a matter of a few moments and his adversaries would be one less problem to concern himself with. He had left Daxzus to sweat, in excruciating pain, to come to the right conclusion. He could either hand over the codes or die at the hands of his trusted pets.

He adored the kill, whether it be the Death Bait Games or Drayzaks mercilessly killing anyone who dare cross him. He would savour this moment, so he could get on with the job in hand, claiming his right to his home planet.

A large contingent of his spacecraft were poised, the target in sight; he just needed to give the order. The vision was clear. Qudor could see the whole operation, courtesy of Earth's satellite imagery offering raw data that could be downloaded and converted into a holographic image. The explosion would be fierce - the gratification on a par with his pets' mutilation of his other enemy in mid-ship - his plan was coming to fruition.

The first attack was unleashed - an exercise to test the strength of the volcanic rock, to pave the way for a massive assault to follow. But something was horribly wrong. Utter disbelief. _The satellite imagery must be faulty_ , thought Qudor;  he couldn't spot a single one of his craft - all 150 craft had disappeared, the radar image lost. Qudor glared at the screen in disbelief, the volcano was now totally unrecognisable, in ruins, as were his ships.

Those in the capsule didn't know how best to react; one wrong word and they were Drayzak food. The warriors frantically tried to contact their comrades, but to no avail.

"We have lost all contact," was the damning news. Confirmation that a large chunk of his military force had been destroyed irritated Qudor immensely. He became angrier, particularly at the realisation that he had been outwitted.

A noise emanated from mid-ship; Daxzus celebrating Qudor's loss. The codes were now irrelevant, at least for the moment; Daxzus would pay for his celebration.

Qudor issued an order: "Prepare the cargo!"

************************

The ships had successfully aborted, left the volcano behind with the detonated surprise for their attackers. Dane had set the co-ordinates and only he knew his plan, for the moment, at least; he wasn't taking any chances on there being a leak of information from one of the hitchhikers he had acquired during this operation. The only thing Dane regretted was not being there to witness the destruction of the unknown aliens. As a warrior, it was what he lived for.

Oosapeth had read Dane's mind: there was only one strategy and that was to acquire the additional armoury, return with the firepower to destroy this threat. The disorientation of the earth's population was out of their control, the disabling of their infrastructure and communications network was an  inconvenience, granted, but the only strategy was to give their enemy a bigger problem.

Dane had taken no chances. Oosapeth was sent back to Xenox to fulfil his obligation in providing the extra 1,000 spacecraft, the now inseparable Serenix and James joined him, Bella alongside for moral support. Dane took the rest of the crew back to Zanakisco to collect his fleet.

Dane had inputted the plan, a plan only he knew, before exiting the volcano. Just for safe measure, he had whispered the basics of the plan to James; a precautionary measure as he would lose contact with Oosapeth.

Oosapeth was busy orchestrating the fleet, who were already in position, prepared for the battle. His men were battle hardy, had fought many a scrap with their leader, never come out embarrassed but had a few close shaves along the way. Galactic aliens had to fight for every morsel, the competition fierce, the race to establish territory and move your civilisation on from the dependence of just one planet was immense. This battle, though, had only honour at stake, a thank you to another alien for saving his precious daughter.

James Eaton wandered over; he was practically family. Oosapeth felt obliged.

"I'm busy at the moment, James. Is it important?"

"Yeah, might be," said James, the translator not failing him once.

"Dane gave me a message. The plan is in the hologram, on your ship," said James. The thought of a university student conferring with an alien to save his planet was insane.

"He briefed me on the basics. He caught me unawares; I was on my own in the volcano; he said he only trusted a few."

Oosapeth usually acted alone, so this collusion wasn't sitting well. Still, he could see the sense. Like Dane, he wasn't sure who to trust either.

"Look, you sit with me in the capsule and we will check it out together," said Oosapeth, in an attempt to prevent a lengthy vocal analysis.

Serenix was looking on. Not happy with the clandestine James, she intended to quiz him. He returned, pretty pleased with himself, but not for long.

"You wouldn't keep any secrets from me, James, would you?" asked Serenix with an 'or you are in big trouble' stare.

"No," said James. This was a conversation demanding he be on his guard.

"Good. What were you discussing with my father?"

James was on rocky ground. Not sure how honest her father would be, if asked the same question, he played it cool.

"I gave your father my word I wouldn't discuss our confidential conversation," said James, thinking that would pacify.

"James, I'm worried," said Serenix. Here it came, the emotional plea.

"Worried about what?" James suddenly realising that, having just discussed a plan to ease Earth of an alien assault, here he was having his first squabble with the love of his life, an alien.

"About us. If you collude with my father, you might be killed." Serenix was now showing obvious emotion.

James put his arms around her, looked into her eyes, the emotions of the moment now affecting him.

"You are not getting rid of me that easily," said James. They kissed. In that moment, he knew that he meant it, with every ounce of his heart.

Oosapeth took his opportunity, while his daughter was emotionally preoccupied away from the ship, to board and quickly and check out the plan: _Move the ships to the portal in space and close the portal exit_. Dane would access Earth via the  CERN portal, easily outnumbering the unknown aliens. He could take care of the gatekeepers on his own. The rest of the plan he would keep to himself. Oosapeth then destroyed the message from Dane.

Dane must have whispered to James that the plan was on the ship knowing he would deliver the message, also knowing that Oosapeth would know what that meant; check out the plan in secret, destroy it, avoid leaking details.

Bella Laurent was also upset. Unlike Serenix, there was no suitor in sight; her worries, though, were for her mother. Bella, only a few weeks ago, was relatively happy, looking forward to the trip home, then, unceremoniously, she was accosted by an alien. She had seen the devastation that this alien race had already inflicted on the capital cities, the evidence that they could destroy territory at will; the devastation of Camp David a prime example. Her mother would be worried, but not for herself; it was that thought that reduced this compassionate, most wonderful representative of all that was good about the human race, to tears. James Eaton had a different task in consoling his friend, equally as challenging.

Dane had a pep talk with his crew. They were about to go into battle: it would be ferocious; there would be casualties. Scott, Demitri and Patrick were all game, front line, they would not be dissuaded. Dane reminded them that should they prevail, their contribution to broker peace talks in the aftermath would be essential. He could not take the risk and would not be dissuaded; he would lead the attack, leaving instructions with his second-in-command should they fail, covering every eventuality.

The task was simple: stick to the plan and link up with Oosapeth once they were close to Earth.
**CHAPTER 39**

**THE PAYLOAD**

The effect of the electromagnetic pulse wave was wearing off, power was gradually being restored, the IT specialists had managed to reboot a number of systems, and the police were actively trying to restore peace, in a way. This attack was a wakeup call. Had this attack been in the 18th century, there would have been no impact. Our reliance on technology, our trust in the system, our very existence, policing, ability to feed ourselves, to keep in contact with each other, now hinged on an intangible energy, satellites, complicated servers, Nano technology, all of which could be shut down in an instant. These aliens were so far advanced that this was basic.

Qudor had discarded the blip, a minor defeat. His ships could be replaced; he knew his reserves would cover his losses. The plan had changed. He needed to reschedule, move the game plan; an urban assault would dilute any further aerial interference. Portal travel was a game-changer - he could readily transport to Olympiana and, in no time, return with further backup. The trouble was, so could his enemies.

He returned to the torture chamber, in no mood to negotiate. He would sacrifice the codes rather than play games;  there would be an alternative. Daxzus had one last chance; either way he was already a casualty.

Daxzus was in agony, wouldn't survive too much longer without medical attention, but was still elated at the immense military losses of his interrogator. Qudor would now play his ace card.

"Annaluce was in the cave," said Qudor.

"You don't know my daughter," said Daxzus, suddenly revived but sceptical that this alien even knew her.

"Oh, but I do; she's my co-conspirator. We were lovers, planned to take Earth - my planet of origin, by the way - from those who would deviously try to attain it," said Qudor, nonchalantly. "Thing is, I haven't had a message from Annaluce for a while; she must have perished. Shame. As you can see, I am devastated," the look of complete disinterest designed to rile his opponent.

"My daughter would never collude with an animal. You are no better than one of these monsters," said Daxzus.

"I left her with a flesh wound when we captured you. Didn't you notice? Ask yourself: how did we know when to strike if she wasn't informing us? Dane Vhastek followed shortly afterwards. The flesh wound convinced the fool that she was almost a victim but had a lucky escape. Truth is, Oh! the irony," said Qudor sarcastically, "Vhastek has fallen for your daughter; love is blind. It's a shame she had to die; kept us ahead of the enemy for a while. I think her tampering with Serenix's chamber was a masterstroke. Certainly didn't help your relationship with your partner-in-crime, Oosapeth. The chamber released more easily than we thought in the crossfire," teased Qudor, now ratcheting up the pressure.

"That explosion on the screen was a trap. They wanted you to strike; can't you see that?" said Daxzus, figuring he had nothing to lose.

Qudor had a look which suggested he agreed with Daxzus, so he continued:

"Oh! ofcourse, you do know that, don't you?" said Daxzus, groaning in agony and struggling to be coherent. "So, my daughter outwits you. Now that's ironic. A love triangle, but the short alien loses out to a true warrior: Dane Vhastek. That's my daughter for you."

Qudor suddenly lost interest. He had a battle on his hands. The face, now contorted, not befitting of an alien without a morsel of compassion. He would obtain the codes by other means. His pets were chained to the ship's mainframe by a voice-activated device. Qudor would only need to give the order and his pets would be released and know instantly, dinner time. In one word, Daxzus would be one less annoyance to deal with.

Qudor uttered the word "release" before returning to the capsule. He waited just long enough to see the horror on his victim's face.

Each of motherships over the capitals carried the payload. Qudor had planned to unload his cargo following the demise of his opponents. The annihilation of a substantial portion of his fleet at the volcano expedited this action.

He knew that they must have made their exit prior to the attack. In that respect, Daxzus's analysis was correct. If they had exited, then the portal had provided the means. With that portal now decimated, they must re-enter elsewhere. Qudor studied the plan, he needed to make himself scarce, guerrilla tactics were now in play and his payload would be a perfect distraction.

Annaluce was fitted with a tracker, inserted in the ear. Qudor had spotted that it disappeared off the radar before the attack on the volcano. He knew she was alive and that the lost signal was due to her exit via a portal. Despite the show of  indifference in front of her father, he was quietly pleased she hadn't perished.

His fleet were currently dispersed, covering the portal at CERN against an influx of enemy craft, protecting his abducted craft in Antarctica as well as the portal amplifier and ensuring enough motherships and drones to inflict as much disruption on the Earth's capitals as possible. He steadfastly studied his war plan and called for his second-in-command, Gorgan.

"What's their next move?" asked Qudor.

"They will attack. Probably reinforce their firepower. They will have used the portal to return to their native planets," said Gorgan.

"They are expecting a battle. They will hit us on two fronts. The portal at CERN will be first; expect that they will hit us hard. Then, presumably use the same portal we used to take out Vhastek's three warrior craft, and supply further reinforcements," said Qudor.

"A sensible deduction," said Gorgan.

"They have portal amplifiers, too, but they won't know that we haven't obtained the activation codes from Daxzus, so they will be cautious. I would suggest that they will try to wipe out our confiscated flight planes in Antarctica as well as the amplifier. What good is a destroyed portal amplifier? The codes are of no use without it. They will attempt to destroy it. Oosapeth has plenty more; it wouldn't be a big loss," said Daxzus, thinking aloud.

"Do we need the human aircraft?" said Gorgan.

"No, we only need the amplifier, so let's recover it, move the amplifier to a safe destination then destroy the human aircraft stocks. We wait for the attack at CERN, so shore up the spacecraft and drones at the portal. In the meantime, we send out another electromagnetic pulse wave to the capital cities and unleash the payload," ordered Qudor.

Gorgan retreated from the capsule to the mid-deck of his ship. He gathered his foot soldiers and passed on the orders. A melee of activity followed. Of the thousand or so assorted craft at Qudor's disposal, 50 were ordered to initially hold off an attack at CERN, ten ordered to destroy the F-16s and stealth bombers in Antarctica; the rest would descend and unleash hell on the world's capitals. Further resources would be needed if the onslaught at CERN proved problematic.

Once the capitals had begun to stabilise, the armies were called upon to bolster resistance to the anarchy setting in, but with limited communications this was proving an impossible task. Many civilians started to flee the capitals, choosing to flee what now resembled war-torn cities, for the rural areas, where the electromagnetic pulse wave had been least effective.

What the world could not predict was what was about to be unleashed.

************************

Chloe Jackson lived with her family in Upper East Side, Manhattan, New York. The riots had forced the Jacksons to flee; their home had been ransacked. They gathered their last few possessions and loaded them into their red 2010 Chevrolet Malibu. Heading through town, civilians were running riot, stones were hurled at their car in an attempt to halt their exit, Chloe's dad had to be vigilant. She was just 16, beautiful and terrified. The electromagnetic pulse wave had rendered communications redundant, reducing the whole family to living in their basement. Her father, Daniel, had decided to head up north to his sister Agatha's. If they could make it to the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge and over the Hudson River, then they  would have a 2.5-hour drive to Agatha's place in Springfield, Massachusetts, where they would be a lot safer.

Chloe sat in the back of the Chevy with her younger brother David. Mum and Dad were in the front. Daniel had to drive without a care if they were to escape; he had hit at least six people, probably killed three before even reaching the bridge. There was a mass exodus; many civilians were begging for a lift to escape the anarchy. Daniel, though, was having none of it; it was just him and his family. If he failed, then his daughter would be accosted probably his wife and son, too; civilians were lawless. The bridge was crammed, cars were either abandoned or driving mercilessly; normal traffic laws were non-existent. It made no difference that cars cascaded into each other - the aim for civilians fleeing the city was simple: escape.

Chloe screamed throughout the journey. Evelyn, her mother, tried her best to reassure her daughter that Dad would get them through this. They crossed the bridge, not sure how, but they managed it. The roads on the other side were equally as intense, but once they negotiated their way out of the city the attacks on their car ceased; those fleeing were concerned with only one thing: getting away from the murderous chaos in the city.

It was late; the decision was made to travel at night by Daniel - less chance of the thugs in the street seeing them in full view, especially the children in the back and a beautiful, young, blonde teenager, who would draw attention. The roads were lit by headlights for miles. It took well into the early hours for the Jacksons to reach the outskirts of the city.

It was young David who spotted the alien craft first. The craft was descending slowly, almost brazenly. The spaceship was transporting something, a huge container hanging from the ship's belly. The night sky was clear; the ship could clearly be spotted, becoming much larger by the second as it lowered.  It appeared to be the size of a football field, lit up extravagantly in an array of different colours.

"Dad, the spaceship, look over there!" said David, pointing.

The other cars on the exodus out of the city slowed down, many stopping on the roadside to get a closer view. Daniel wasn't sure. This could only be bad news.

Daniel didn't like what he saw. David tried to exit the car.

"David, stop that now, you hear? Close the door and lock it!" were the precise instructions from his father. David duly obliged. "Chloe, lock your side as well. Immediately!"

"What is it?" Chloe screamed.

"I don't know, darling, but we aren't hanging around to find out," said Daniel, assertively.

The craft hovered for what seemed an age, probably only two or three minutes in reality, before the loud 'clang' confirmed that it had been safely lowered to the ground.

People exited their cars in droves, trying to fathom what had been deposited. A mistake.

The sides of the container were released. The mothership disappeared into the night sky instantly. A wall of sound unleashed. Whatever was in the container had escaped. Creatures, hundreds of them, some ran, some flew, and they weren't friendly.

Those who had left their cars on the roadside to explore this alien deposit regretted it. Screams could be heard, not from the creatures in the container, but human screams, blood-curdling screams. Swarms of creatures, in packs, descended. It was feeding time.

Drayzaks.

Daniel had made the right move, headed away from the disruption. Sensing that something horrible had occurred behind, he pressed his foot on the pedal even harder. The  thud on the bonnet startled him as the creature tried to get a footing. Staring back through the windscreen was the ugliest creature Daniel had ever set eyes upon. Chloe screamed; David froze, petrified. The creature's mouth was wide open, displaying his killing armour - those razor-sharp teeth, the blood-red eyes only confirmed the threat staring back at the Jackson family. Unable to land, the creature hovered, like a helicopter might follow a vehicle, its face coming into view every now and then. Daniel hit the pedal, harder still. The Drayzak followed resolutely.

"Land, you bastard, land!" shouted Daniel. By now, the whole family, other than the driver, was screaming. "You got your seatbelts on in the back?" asked Daniel. The response to confirm that they had was all he needed. Finally, the hideous monster landed on the bonnet, ready to pounce, only for a moment, but that was all Daniel needed. He slammed on the brakes, hard; the Drayzak lost his footing and fell onto the road in front. It was disorientated just enough that Daniel's sudden burst of speed hit the creature hard; it squealed, "Take that, you freak! Hold on, kids!" instructed Daniel: "It'll be a rough ride."

Daniel checked in his mirror; the darkness ensured that the demise of their attacker was not confirmed. He could vaguely see the creature squirming, whether it was dead or alive mattered not. The Jackson family had escaped and were heading for Springfield.

************************

The city had been encompassed with the payload, containers were parked at intervals of a few kilometres or so, surrounding the city. This was repeated at every major capital, worldwide. The world had been introduced to a nightmare.

Qudor ensured that the electromagnetic pulse wave disabled the major capitals for the second time, with the army already preoccupied with looters and thugs and no communication to organise an effective defence, the civilians were easy targets. Drayzaks would kill, maim, eat and pro-create. The forests would be awash with cocooned humans, the streets littered with half-eaten carcasses; absolute mayhem would prevail. The human race had no answer to the superior technology of their aggressor's spacecraft; this latest tactic would leave our species with nowhere to hide.
**CHAPTER 40**

**THE DANE ATTACKS**

Dane Vhastek attended to his duties, ready to return to Earth to take up the battle. The elders had supplied the 1,000 craft and 2,000 warriors, as promised. They were stationary near the portal park, ready for action. It was some sight: craft lined up in rows as far as the eye could see, glistening in the evening light, menacingly. Warriors, like ants, were crawling all over, attending to last-minute checks of their precious craft, some waiting to board, eagerly awaiting the battle. Others were arriving from assignments on distant planets but got the call to assist the legendary Dane Vhastek on yet another adventure.

Each craft was synced into the other. Dane could orchestrate proceedings from the mothership; his war plan would be distributed to the commanders on board each craft, meticulously. The holographic images would demonstrate the overall attack; each craft would know precisely when they should travel via portal to Earth. The human contingent was purposely left until the latter stages of the onslaught, to board those ships at the back end of the attack.

The plan was simple: send through a few hundred unmanned drones to keep the gatekeepers of the portal at  CERN busy. By the time the first wave of real firepower came through the portal, the opposition would be otherwise engaged and could be picked off at will. At least, that was the plan.

Dane Vhastek, not trusting of anyone, had to hope his counterpart, Oosapeth, had secured the fleet and would appear through the portal deep in space to join him in battle later.

Dane was relishing the challenge when Annaluce approached him. The look of guilt obvious; the look of desire even more evident. She was stunning, as usual. Dane preferred not to get emotionally involved before battle; it weakened the spirit, but he could see from the look in those gorgeous green eyes that he could not avoid this issue, whatever it was.

"Annaluce, I have already said no," said Dane.

"I'm not asking to join you. I know it is dangerous. I want to ask you a question," said Annaluce, forlornly.

"Quick, because we are scheduled to exit shortly."

"I know who the unknown aliens are," said Annaluce, too afraid to look in the eyes of the being she desired so much.

"How, but how?" said Dane, with the sense that he had been betrayed.

"I would rather not say. Let me help you. Let me put things right," she pleaded.

"Why do I get the impression that you are working for the enemy, Annaluce?" Dane, too scared to know the truth, awaited her reply.

"It isn't that simple. I want to help; I can help." She paused, then looked up into his eyes, "If you will let me." She paused further, "If you will forgive me."

"Forgive you for what?" now Dane was even more concerned.

Annaluce, with tears in her eyes, turned away. Dane grabbed her by the arm; he needed to hear the truth, he wanted to forgive but he didn't know exactly what to forgive.

"Dane, he is a monster. I had no choice. He threatened me, my father. I hadn't met you, Dane. If I had, it would have been different." Annaluce was pouring her heart out; this was the being she had fallen in love with. Qudor had been an interesting encounter whilst it lasted; more a business deal. She had been foolish. Dane was different.

"Monster? Who is the monster, Annaluce?" anger crept into Dane's voice.

"Qudor Volkan from planet Olympiana. His species emanate from Earth originally. This is complicated. Dangerous. We don't have to fight. It is their planet; they originate from the planet. Qudor believes he has a right. I understand you propagated the planet, but..." Annaluce paused again.

"But what, Annaluce? We leave our people, our descendants on Earth at the mercy of a monster. You had better start talking, and quick," said Dane.

Annaluce spent the next five minutes, more, explaining that Qudor was charming; she had fallen for him. All was going well, they were going to trade real estate; he had invited her back to Olympiana; she hadn't told her father, which, in hindsight, was a grave error. He was interested in her father's escapades, especially Earth. Qudor had confided in her, if she could help him overcome the aliens battling for Earth, which, in his eyes, was rightfully his, he would reward her. She almost conceded. She was angry with her father and wanted to get back at him, until Qudor explained that her father needed to be the first casualty if she was to help him deliver. She got scared. She was getting in too deep. When she refused, he introduced her to his pets. He said that wherever she went, whoever she was with, he would find her and his pets wouldn't be as friendly next time.

Dane wasn't sure what to believe. Was this another trap? Was he walking into a plan that this alien had set? Was she so scared that even now she was acting out some sort of deception?

Annaluce looked into his eyes, put her forefinger and thumb into her right ear and removed a tracking device.

"This is how he knows where I am at all times on Earth. This is how he contacts me, asking for information," said Annaluce.

"How do I know I can trust you?" asked Dane amid an ensemble of calls from his comrades to get the operation under way.

"Because," she paused, tearfully, "you must have noticed the way I look at you. Do I have to spell it out?"

His heart was ripped out. He felt the same, but she had betrayed him. He wrestled with the situation; she could not have chosen a worse time. He needed to act quickly: does he throw her out of the craft, lock her up until it is over, or is she now useful to him, to the operation? This wasn't the time to announce her betrayal to the others; he was in a catch 22.

"Change of plan. You're coming with me, where I can watch you," said Dane. He took the bug she had handed him and put it in a pocket. He would need to think things through, ad lib a little, play out the plan differently.

Annaluce wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried. At least she would be by his side and, if Dane's ship was taken out in the battle, she probably got what she deserved. She could only hope that his feelings for her were strong enough. Facing Dane in a sense was easy - they had feelings for each other - but Annaluce was not so sure how the others would react; she had put all of them in danger. The one she feared the most was Oosapeth; he had already been double-crossed by her father and would have little sympathy. How had she ever fallen for such a monster as Qudor Volkan? He wasn't half the warrior  Dane was; he had no morals. So he emanated from Earth, so what? That was millions of Earth years before the Undarthians propagated, ethically, with the permission of the Council of the Light. How had she fallen for his charm so easily?

One way or another she would get her revenge.

Qudor watched as his payload was delivered. He had inflicted the knockout blow; the Earth would now be consumed by his pets. With the world's military preoccupied with the aftermath of the electromagnetic pulse waves, his pets would dominate, they would feed well; having deliberately starved the Drayzaks was a masterstroke.

The business of obtaining the codes in order to activate the portal amplifier was more complicated now that his pets had devoured Daxzus. Qudor, however, had little concern.

Serenix would be the new target.

Oosapeth's convoy entered through his portal first. Dane was still preoccupied with his last-minute adjustments due to the revelations from Annaluce, which delayed his arrival at CERN. The spacecraft steadily poured through the portal, some one million kilometres from Earth. The entourage was impressive: a thousand craft, in unison, led by Oosapeth himself. Just one craft at the rear stood out from the generic spacecraft - the portal amplifier. From a distance, the long group of ships resembled an asteroid belt, heading slowly towards its target, Earth, and the destruction of this unknown alien source, although Oosapeth would not know that the alien's identity was now a known fact to his war partner.

The priority was to keep a close eye on any incoming enemy craft who might use the same portal. Dane had brought him up to speed with their previous attack - the destruction of his three surveillance craft. Oosapeth doubted very much that the enemy would try to attack against such a formidable ensemble  but, in true warrior fashion, he was taking no chances; he kept a close vigil.

Dressed in his formidable combat attire, all black with built-in computer technology to monitor his vital organs, sophisticated software to interconnect with his comrades, and a visor projecting the image of the battlefield a few inches in front of his eyes, which simultaneously superimposed the hologram war plan, even in face-to-face combat. His suit was laden with laser weapons, reacting instantly to an enemy attack. Just to ensure added protection, each suit could emit an electromagnetic force field to disable enemy personnel at will. Oosapeth had all the toys at his disposal.

The satellite images from Earth came through; no combat activity at CERN, just a small number of gatekeepers. Oosapeth could see the destruction in Antarctica of the Earth's military aircraft. The portal amplifier was missing, an obvious manoeuvre to hide it.

************************

James Eaton and Scott McCabe were also monitoring their planet in another spacecraft, currently around the middle of the impressive convoy of killing machines. At the insistence of her father, Serenix was in a separate craft at the back.

James contacted Serenix first, translation mode on.

"Hi, it's me. James. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Still annoyed at my father."

"I understand. It's only because he cares. Missing you," said James.

"Are you? I'm scared, James."

"You trust me, don't you? We have two superheroes on our side; how can we fail?" said James, reassuringly. "Listen, I'll see you soon. That's a promise."

"You had better."

James rang off and decided to investigate the imaging coming through from Earth's satellites. He homed in on the UK, London.

"Scott, best come and have a look at this," said James. Scott made his way over.

Oosapeth received the message from James. The message had been translated into hieroglyphics. It read:

The Earth's capitals are surrounded by strange, opened containers. The pattern is eerily the same around each city.

Oosapeth quickly replicated James and enlarged the imaging. He could see the containers - huge, heavy-duty boxes, opened.

The plan hadn't changed; they still needed to hook up with Dane, but clearly their enemy had been busy since they returned to pick up extra resources. Oosapeth thanked James and decided that the sooner he contact Dane Vhastek the better. He checked the hologram again; there was still no activity at CERN.

Dane Vhastek was ready; the portal prepared, the drones waiting. The tracker in Annaluce's ear gave Dane an idea and, in any case, he needed proof that Annaluce was not double-crossing him. The drones were automatically programmed to enter the portal at CERN and take the avalanche of fire. They were dispensable and would merely distract the enemy.

If Qudor needed Annaluce, if he had the remotest of feelings, then he would not shoot down the drone carrying Annaluce's tracker.

************************

The red 2010 Chevrolet Malibu had hit the tree at an alarming speed; Daniel had lost control. The bonnet crumpled, steam  oozing from the engine. The seats, both at the front and the rear, were terribly bloodstained, but not from the impact.

The injured Drayzak had returned with a few of his friends. Daniel could not fight off four angry Drayzaks; he lost control and veered from the roadside. The seatbelts had saved them; Daniel wished they hadn't. In a feeding frenzy, with blood-curdling screams from their victims, the Drayzaks went about their business. Daniel and his son were ripped apart viciously as Chloe and her mum looked on. They would be spared, for the moment. The horrors that awaited them were far more gruesome.
**CHAPTER 41**

**THE CAPSULE**

The date: 23rd February 2018. The destination: the alien spacecraft hangar at Area 51.

Robert Stave had just finished saying his prayer. The data in the capsule was going berserk, the graphics changing so fast he couldn't keep track. He checked himself and, to his knowledge, he hadn't been burned alive. The view was different. He could no longer see a room, he couldn't see the shutters which had been drawn down the minute the time capsule was activated in the year 2218. The vision was a little blurred, the graphics in the capsule from the complicated array of gadgets a distraction. The image became clearer. Robert's heart was beating fast; a surreal feeling, emotion swept over his thoughts. Could this be real? Had he really gone back in time?

The vision cleared. It was just as he had imagined. He had seen footage, really old footage from the historical archives in the city library, and it had come to life in front of his eyes. He glanced down at the graphics. There it was! A flashing number, a date in time; it read 23rd February 2018. Robert wanted to savour this historic event: he, Robert Stuart Stave, had travelled back in time.

Robert had been given the briefing before he embarked upon this epic journey. He closed down the capsule, as  instructed, the capsule already synced to his voice would shut down or re-programme at will; Robert just had to say the command.

As the moment cemented in his mind, he looked out of the capsule. There it was: the spacecraft, the portal amplifier. He had seen the footage, the images, yet there it was, in all its glory: the machine that changed everything, the pivotal aspect of 'The Great Alien Wars'.

Robert had rehearsed this moment over and over again, what he would do, how he would act out his plan, how things in the future would be so different. He froze, the reality of the unique position he found himself in starting to sink in. The machine was even more magnificent than he could ever have imagined. This was a machine outlawed by the 'Council of the Light', considered the most dangerous machine any civilisation had devised. There it was, a beast, capable of the most horrendous atrocities and yet wonderful. At this very moment in history, this machine was still in operation. It was the events that followed which resigned it to the trash bin; it almost destroyed the universe as we know it.

Robert pressed the release button and prayed for the second time. Beneath the fireproof suit, dressed in Colonel Patterson's best army uniform, complete with all the paraphernalia, the medals, the meticulously kept shoes and everything else that could flaunt his authority, Robert was overdressed for the actions he would need to take.

The proverbial dry ice came into play as the two halves of the capsule parted, thankfully. It was around midday; his next worry was the possibility of anyone snooping around. Robert had planned this meticulously; he knew the floor plan of the base at Area 51 by heart. The hangar was a perfect selection as Hank Richards frequented it often and there was also a large  storage locker towards the back of the hangar. The co-ordinates were accurate and his capsule was close enough to push the contraption into the area designated for defunct equipment, seldom used to investigate the alien technology. Frankly, the scientists commissioned to try to fathom this alien craft were pretty hopeless back in 2018. Robert had selected this day on purpose; the library had in its archives a detailed log of events around this point in time. The murder of Sophia Hernandez occurred on this day, so most at the base were preoccupied with the other hangar, the one housing the Undarthian craft.

Robert moved the capsule into place to disguise it and took up refuge in and amongst the hoard of outdated specialised equipment, to test the alien craft, all of which were useless, all of which were relics as far as Robert was concerned. This was like visiting a history museum where those observing ancient relics might comment on how people ever managed without modern technology. Robert afforded himself a congratulatory smile, a similar look to that of his reveal following the operation.

The stage was set. Robert knew exactly what he had to do, when the time was right. Having taken care of a few minor trivialities, he could set about the task of dealing with the portal amplifier. The archives had again furnished him with the specification and precise operating instructions he needed. The fact that he would have to resort to technical drawings on paper also drew a smile; holographic images were so much easier. However, in a warped way, Robert already preferred the physical drawings, even though he had never needed to use them.

************************

Dane sent the drones through the portal. One of the drones was equipped with an additional feature: Annaluce's homing device.  The ships were prepared; Dane would lead the operation. His ship was more adapted to speed and manoeuvrability, smaller than the craft carrying warriors and combat equipment needed for both aerial and land battle. Around half the spacecraft speed fortified, the other half more robust, carrying cargo and essentials for a long, arduous conflict.

Dane entered his craft, battle ready and looking fearsome in his war suit. Unlike Oosapeth, Dane's combat gear was more traditional, more hands on. The most striking feature was Dane's black beads - his long hair was both awe inspiring and menacing. The hologram was in full flow, the battle plan uploaded, as much has could be pre-empted. His warriors were ready for battle; Dane was in his element.

The drones had been commissioned to enter at CERN in multiples of ten. Dane wanted to introduce his gatekeeper friends to a sustained assault, play with their minds as to how many of these damn drones would be filtering through. Disorientating the enemy was a key element of Dane's battle plan.

Annaluce had entered the craft first, as he needed to keep his eye on her at all times. In truth, this was as much to do with pure lust as it was distrust. She looked spectacular. Dane considered how best to deal with the passenger; to sit in the hot seat next to him in battle would be too distracting. He would lead her to the sleeping quarters, lock her in, then deal with her once her knew the outcome of how his love rival, Qudor, would respond to the drone carrying her surveillance identity.

"I need to lock you in the sleeping quarters for now," said Dane, in a masterful tone.

"Why can't I sit with you?" replied Annaluce. Looking at the cockpit area, complete with holographic images, the computer wizardry of hieroglyphics, complicated graphic images of the expected terrain, the magnificent 180-degree  view, not to mention the thrill of watching a master tactician in full flow. The truth was, she didn't want to die alone; she needed to be beside Dane.

"It's for you own safety, Annaluce," said Dane, grabbing her by the arm and leading her to the sleeping quarters at the rear of the ship. The door opened instantly upon his command; the voice activation ensured no escape for his passenger. Annaluce relented, reluctantly.

Dane sat at the helm, orchestrating the hologram with precision. He checked in with the sub-commanders, who controlled large batches of spacecraft; everything was in order. They would wait some time until the drones had exhausted their use, then follow and attack. The warriors awaited his command to enter the portal.

Annaluce shouted through from the rear, another distraction Dane could do without. The ship was set to auto pilot allowing him to deal with the disturbance. He walked to the back and commanded the door to open. On the bed lay Annaluce's tunic, but she wasn't there. The door closed behind him and Dane turned around. There was Annaluce, naked.

It is a warrior tradition that they say goodbye to their wives or loved ones in more than mere words before they leave for battle, but usually with time to spare. Annaluce was even more gorgeous naked than Dane could have imagined.

"I might never see you again, alive," said Annaluce. She moved towards this great hunk of a being and kissed him passionately on the lips. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. This is what he had longed for. He tried to resist, but the thoughts of the battle ahead were fading. He was lost in the kiss.

Dane picked up Annaluce with ease; she purred. She fumbled with his combat gear; although not the best design for love-making, she was making progress. Dane ripped off the top  half of his space suit to reveal the most impressive physique Annaluce had ever seen. He dropped the lower section; equally impressive. This should have been a marathon love-making session, both Dane and Annaluce could have made love all day, but both had to take the moment at face value. They may not survive the battle, which made this all the more exciting and meaningful. She knew at that moment that she loved him. Dane knew the same.

Dane was on the verge of the battle, ready to give the order to his warriors, he had to regain focus. He was ready, but now he had more to lose. Despite his protests, he went into battle, this time with Annaluce at his side.

************************

James Eaton again checked the holographic imagery. The fleet of craft by now close enough to Earth to get a precise image on the chaos. James played the hologram, zoomed in on the images, chose New York rather than London. What he saw horrified him.

Oosapeth was busy co-ordinating the huge contingency of spacecraft. Earth was close, just a few thousand miles; it would be impossible to camouflage a fleet this size. He needed to break up the fleet into smaller squadrons, enough to give coverage to the alien-occupied major capitals. Dane would be busy with a battle of his own; they would need to communicate. A message came through from James:

_Hell, on Earth!_

The image showed the Drayzaks, cars in pile-ups on the major roads, the beasts swarming down on individuals, anarchy in the streets of New York, buildings on fire, the military unable to cope, citizens running for their lives. Oosapeth had to agree  this was indeed 'hell on Earth'. His response:

_This is a different type of war! The rules have changed._

James replied:

_Have we heard from Dane?_

Clearly intent on conferring with James, especially in light of this new development, Oosapeth messaged:

_Not yet. Awaiting contact. He is taking his time._

Summing up the position succinctly, James replied:

_If we destroy the cities, we destroy our civilisation. We must land and deploy your warriors. There must be hundreds of thousands of these alien beasts worldwide, not to mention the unknown enemy 's aerial threat. Dane is crucial._

The scene was set: the battle was about to commence, but the strategy was changing. The advent of guerrilla warfare made this battle all the more challenging. In order to destroy the Drayzaks, the aerial assault would need re-evaluating. Qudor had played another masterstroke. He knew that to save the Earth's civilisation meant avoiding aerial bombardment of its cities. The enemy had to contend with both an aerial and ground bombardment, almost impossible based on the numbers of troops available to the coalition.

This would be a long, bloody battle, one which would involve espionage, out-manoeuvring, betrayal, greed, gruesome suffering, all to save a civilisation now very much on the brink of extinction, not of its own making this time, but from any number of alien species.

This would be known as the period of 'The Great Alien Wars'.
**CHAPTER 42**

**BONES**

The human hand was all that could be seen as evidence of a crime. The desert was hot, sand blowing relentlessly in waves across the desolate landscape. The hand was testimony to an amateur burial, a rushed affair with seeming indifference to whether the body would be discovered or not. It appeared as though the murderer cared not about the discovery of the body but more that this bodged burial might buy time.

The body had been stripped naked, down to the undergarments. It was a male, around late-thirties, his throat cut cleanly. He would have suffered little; it would have been a quick death. The body had only been there a matter of three days, the date 26th February 2018.

In the distance, a ranch, one of the many that occupied a large area surrounding the water known as Groom Lake. The spade had been abandoned, no obvious attempt to disguise it, which was unusual; evidence that proving the identity of the culprit was of no concern. This murderer seemed almost blase. The hand was greyish in colour, indicating that the body had been there for some days. The smell around the area was putrid and was attracting unwanted attention. The vultures were circling.

A rancher had spotted the vultures and decided to venture out and investigate.

"Say, Jake. Need you and Johnny to ride with me," said Cory Walters.

"What's up, Cory? The work getting to ya?" asked Jake.

"Less lip, boy! Just wanna check those vultures over there. Ain't let any of the cattle out, not that I know of."

"No, boss, we ain't," agreed Jake. "Say, Johnny, saddle up."

In typical cowboy fashion, Cory Walters rode out with two of his ranch hands. The disturbance, receiving the vulture's full attention, being about three miles from his boundary. Cory slowed down as he approached the carcass, dismounted and instructed Jake and Johnny to wait.

"Well, it ain't no cattle, that's for sure," observed Cory. "I'll just go check it out."

Cory bent down and put his neckerchief over his mouth to smother the stench.

"Stay back, boys!" insisted Cory. "It reeks. Vultures have gotten to it by the looks of things. Flesh eaten to the bone."

There were some remnants of a uniform buried alongside the body; someone of importance in the military from the little that could be seen. Tyre marks to and from the burial area. He pushed the sand to one side to reveal the half-eaten human hand. On the wrist, a bracelet. It read:

_To my Darling Hank, love you always. Margaret._

************************

Robert Stave returned from the hangar. He had full knowledge of the layout and knew exactly where he was heading. The exit to the hangar led to the first corridor. Robert walked along  as if he had known it for years, nonchalantly saluting every soldier that passed his way. He had practised the accent, a slight southern twang; he wouldn't know the individual names of all of his colleagues, but he knew the main characters.

Robert found the door key, as predicted, in the trouser pocket of Hank's uniform which, a size too small, fitted well enough. He had already discarded the Colonel's uniform in the desert. He opened the door and immediately locked it behind him. The office was how he had imagined it to be: the round conference table with its black leather chairs; Hank's desk with its computer; it was almost home.

He sat down and breathed a sigh of relief that he had made it this far and had disposed of the body, undetected. The use of the army vehicle was daunting, but his new look was a passport to leave the base, temporarily. He gently lifted the laptop, as if handling a treasured antique. This would be the tricky part. If his plan was to have any chance of success, then intercepting Hank's emails would be crucial. The concept of emails amused Robert.

Hank was predictable. Robert's first password guess was 'Margaret'. The computer said 'incorrect'. He paused, rubbed his left hand on his chin and looked around the office. On the bookshelf, there was nothing but memorabilia: books, vinyl records and CDs with a photo above, just to top it off.

It was obvious. 'Elvis' got access.

His plan was under way. Could he, Robert Stave, pull off this mission? He knew the date was correct, he knew the stage was set, the advent of The Great Alien Wars gave him a window of time, a chance to save his species from a future only he knew beckoned.
