“I would like to ask a favor from all of you, that in case you have trouble among yourselves, please refrain from resorting to violence in seeking redress to your grievances,” Mr. Demothy advised. “Well, for the meantime . . . why don’t we talk about what’s in store ahead of us? We’re all slaves here doing different kinds of jobs to manufacture some assorted war machines and nuclear arms . . . to be used by the Martian madman in destroying our beloved planet, the once-wonderful home of our ancestors:
Adam, Abraham, and King Solomon,” Mr. Demothy explained further. In reality, Mr. Demothy was a deep-penetration agent send by Earth’s High Military Command to unify the Martian populace and brainwash them with anti-Ammaron feelings.
The cordial conversation stopped when they noticed the arrival of the company of the hated security apparatus, the infamous Martian Elite Guards, on board the solar-powered armored personnel carriers. Their arrogant commander, a heavily built Caucasian, Capt. Voltaire Vizrogh, standing six feet, eleven inches, got off. His tan-and-gray-uniformed men instantly cordoned off the refugee camps, which scared them all, particularly the women, who had suffered from humiliating sexual abuse whenever they were summoned by the approaching ruthless officer.
The Martian captain, with his patented twin elephant tusk-shaped mustache and half-moon beard, approached them. “Hey! Who started this trouble?”
“Nothing, sir, just a little fun for the workers,” Mr. Demothy responded. “Everything has now returned to normal.”
“If I’m not mistaken you’re Dennis Demothy,” Capt. Voltaire Vizrogh said and blew tobacco smoke in the latter’s pale face. “You know . . . I've been looking for you for the last five hours.”
Mr. Dennis Demothy complained regarding the unpleasant behavior of the Martian officer, “Hey, Captain, what’s this? . . . Uhh! . . . uhh!”
“Lt. Dennis Demothy, military chaplain of the Earth, please tell me who are the other members of your underground movement?”
“I don’t know anything about what you’ve been charging me with,” Mr. Demothy politely answered. “I’m innocent."
“Are you sure of your answer?" The captain, sizing Demothy up from head to foot, continued his interrogations. “Don’t try to fool me. The soldiers of God tell no lies. . .. For your information we’ve intercepted your coded messages to the Earth, our Intelligence Corps has deciphered all your messages, and we reached the conclusion that you ’ve been feeding the Earth's military High Command with some highly classified information. Of course with the connivance of some of your leftist Martian associates," The captain then smashed the surprised chaplain with his wide palm, sending Demothy sprawling on the warm sandy ground. His stunned friends tried to rescue him from further beating, but the Martian guards poked their laser guns at them, “C’mon, tell me who among you here has any knowledge of the illegal activities of this bastard." Nobody responded. After a few seconds the angered officer whispered to his second in command.
“Yahoo!” his pleased men shouted. The poor women suspected something terrible would happen to them. They were not mistaken; the Martian guards pulled them away from their loved ones. The crazy guards tore the women’s clothes in complete view of the refugees. Some women were laid on the platform; nothing could avert the Martians from satisfying their wicked lust with impunity.
“No!” the groggy chaplain shouted, crawling for the double-barreled shotgun and fired it at one of the guards near him, hitting the Martian’s legs. All eyes were on the chaplain, who fought alone, The Martian sentries returned the compliment by firing their laser guns at him. The powerless workers gritted their teeth, watching helplessly the clergy’s melting body. Their vindictive hearts were now aflame; they couldn’t bear any longer the moans of their molested loved ones begging for mercy.
lX
Gallant Warrior
After that fierce encounter in space, Mark found himself alone. He lost contact with his peers; only his new pet, Sniffer, bolstered his morale. They were concealed inside the rugby ball-shaped transparent bluish balloon. The tail was fitted with a keel and twin flippers connected to the steering control and the micro engine, respectively. He had difficulty positioning himself due to the very limited space; his knees were touching his jawbone, while his right hand held the steering control and his left hand held the binoculars that provided him a detailed panoramic view of the serene beauty of the stellar space. He didn’t lose his composure: he had kept track of the bright stars, Sirius and likewise Pegasus, Ursus Major, and some clusters of fixed stars. With the aid of micro navigational instrument and his skills at finger mathematical operation, he has able to plot his position on the mini-navigational chart. The shortwave radio kept on sending distress signals.
Mark had no fear, as he had been inspired by the people's outpouring of support back home. Armed with a resolute determination to survive, he exerted all heroic efforts to extend his life. Deep in his mind he wished to witness the proof of his theory; it was based on facts, he asserted. He was not an astrologer or a gifted psychic. And he had pointed out to the people that it was mankind’s collective efforts to save the Earth that would provide an acid test in man’s quest for survival. He was in deep thought, when without his knowledge, his space balloon traversed the treacherous turbulent path with a barrage of pebbles that sometimes blinded his view.
He used his driving skills to maneuver along the hazardous path, especially past the boulders that varied in sizes and sometimes threatened the survival balloon. He kept glancing left and right, up and down, until he noticed a strange object that looked familiar to him, a white spheroid that resembled a planet. This cannot be the Earth! he exclaimed to himself. Or could it be a mirage? He wondered. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to ascertain that this thing was for real. He focused his eyes in the direction of the object, but it was still there. His eyes didn’t betray him; he was positive.
The white spheroid grew bigger as Mark drew closer, and he realized that those sparkling boulders and pebbles were actually the peripheral rings of this alien planet. His heart was beating fast, with a lot of enthusiasm. He had a thousand questions reserved for himself; the most serious probability, which bothered him most, was if this white cloud was a buildup of ammonia gas that was carried into the atmosphere by the intense internal heat or the feared “greenhouse escape” that trapped the incoming heat on this planet, then this planet would be his graveyard; he would be incinerated alive. He thought deeply about this worst-case scenario, and later on he calmly settled down when he remembered the tale of the four blind men’s miscalculation of the elephant. He urged himself to dodge those negative feelings, but rather he must think positively and face the music and prepare for the worst. He clenched his fist and looked forward with rays of hope.
Mark fixed his headgear, kneecap shield, and other emergency falling protection gadgets. The rugby buffs of the bygone era might have mistaken him as a heavily padded American football player ready to dive for the touchdown passed in the tough gridiron field. The gravitational pull of the alien planet was rapidly accelerating with every moment. He had zero visibility, and it was very difficult to determine whether he was approaching the land surface or not. He noticed that the weight of the binoculars was increasing, and he observed that the direction of the gravitational pull was toward his feet. He had now established the vertical and the horizontal axis, which was necessary for gliding at manageable descent in the foggy atmosphere. He looked at the thermometer’s graduated gauge and was astonished because the mercury level wasn’t rising as he had thought it would, but rather it was dropping. That gave him relief. “A sign of habitable land below, maybe populated by reptiles or other creatures, Sniffer,” he announced confidently to his pet.
The space balloon had slipped smoothly from the dense clouds. Mark glimpsed the exotic land. He had a relaxing view of the ground. His binoculars revealed that it was carpeted with foliage of a variety of colors. Some forms of vegetation, he guessed. He reduced the gas content from both rear and fr
ont chambers. Moments later the balloon slowly banked closer to the surface; he dropped the anchor. He disembarked from the survival balloon and raised his hands toward the sky, overjoyed with the luxury of inhaling the fresh air of the foreign land. He hugged his pet cheerfully. He took the survival kit and climbed on top of a dolmen. He observed the weather conditions and surroundings, and to his dismay he saw no sign of a single living creature. I’m now marooned on this barren planet, he thought desperately.
Mark observed that the land had an anhydrous surface covered with a cluster of coral reefs instead of orchards. There was coral that was similar to the Earth’s coral, in great varieties and forms, such as soft coral, crinoid or feather stars, Acropora or table coral, and others. While pacing along the stream gully, he caught an intriguing sight, a “camel’s hump" measuring about two and a half feet in length, sliced with corrugated lips along the ridge. He knelt and removed some moisture on the edge. After some brushing, he recognized it. This must be a clamshell, he told himself. He marveled at the species and thought for a while. He recalled that some Asians had considered this shell a delicacy.
He drew his laser sword and aimed it toward the lips, and slowly he released a minimal beam that slowly opened the clamshell and exposed its half-cooked, savory meat. He took a knife and carefully sliced off a portion of the watery meat, but he was surprised. Underneath the meat was the brilliant nacre of a white pearl about four inches in diameter. Unmindful of the importance of the luminous pearl, he took the meat and bit a chunk. “It’s tasty!” he exclaimed. “It fully satisfies my appetite . . . at last I can survive on this planet,” he declared. “Sniffer! eat this; it’s delicious!” His pet was very hungry and ate all the leftovers. This obliged Mark to check his surroundings to see if there was sufficient clamshell around. It didn’t take him so long to discover that there were a hundred just a few yards from him.
Again Mark poked the laser sword toward a clamshell; it opened instantly. He investigated its contents; it had a brilliant pearl inside. What a hidden wealth of this planet, he said to himself. This kind of rare gem commanded an enormous price if sold by Sotheby’s and Christie’s auction houses in the old days, he marveled silently, shaking his head. He gathered about a dozen sparkling pearls that varied in sizes and lowered the floating balloon. All the mechanical devices were carefully detached, and all the pearls were placed inside the transparent spheroid; the six-inch-diameter pearl was fixed on the balloon’s centroid, tied by a rifle string on the horizontal axis.
The helium gas from both chambers was diffused inside the bluish spheroid, and he let it float about fifteen feet above the ground, anchored by a synthetic-fiber-stranded guy rope. He was fascinated by his creation. The smaller pearls were revolving around the fixed pearl. It’s amazing! he exclaimed to himself. He couldn’t avoid comparing it with the stars in the vast stellar space that had just been ejected from “Mother Nature’s womb” and added luster to his womb theory of creation. “How wonderful... the pearls were born through the clamshell’s womb; so with the stars in the galaxies!" he insisted.
He squatted on the fine white sand, watching the stellar model that graced the white sky while contemplating deeply what his future would be here. If Kareen was here, she would have realized her dreams, he thought. She would have a Kingdom of her own, a young planet at her advanced stage of development. But he doubted her sincerity. Is she worthy of my love? he asked himself. Or was he exploited only for her lofty ambition? She idolized Catherine the Great, who gave up her vanity just to achieve her dreams for her titanic struggle in czarist Russia. Then he remembered Kareen’s mind quizzer’s question: “Does the moon have a parental relationship with the host planet, as in the case of the Earth, which has one moon, while others have a dozen?” This puzzled him. “Why is it that some planets have a ring while others don’t?” Kareen had asked him further.
Mark had a comfortable sleep beside the coral with a yellowish pink polyp. A mild tremor awakened him.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Sniffer?” Mark saw the ears of the dog flick, and guessed Sniffer had scented something. “Is it a sign of a tremor?” he asked his pet.
Mark got his zigzag laser sword and looked around. He peeped and saw a dozen alien men on foot patrol. One alien spotted him and fired at him with a laser beam. Mark looked for cover. He crawled under the giant red coral. The aliens split into two groups. Half of them chased the dog. Mark returned the fire using his laser pistol. The dog, on the other hand, ran and ran. The aliens kept on chasing Sniffer without firing a shot; they wanted him alive. Mark found a lone alien who had strayed from the group. The alien noticed Mark and they scuttled with each other. The alien was very much stronger and kicked Mark in his belly, dropping him to the ground. The alien drew his pistol, but Mark was fast; he got hold of his zigzag laser sword and in the wink of an eye chopped his adversary’s head off. The beheaded alien slowly dropped to the ground. To Mark’s total surprise, the alien spoke, begging for mercy: “Please help me-e-e . . . please.”
Mark understood the alien’s dialect. The dog returned, growling, looking for Mark, who hugged his buddy. When Mark looked around, he was already surrounded, the aliens’ pistols aimed toward him. There was no way to escape from their dragnet. In an instant, Mark grabbed the wounded alien’s head. “Don’t come closer! Or else I’m gonna finish him off!” Mark warned them.
“Hold it! Don’t shoot me! I need immediate medical assistance. Young man, please spare my life. I give you my word they won’t harm you.”
When Mark heard this assurance he glanced at the alien’s head and followed the foot patrol, who took the body. They boarded a personnel carrier buggy hovering over the rough ground. In the distance Mark saw a floating chateau resting on a rectangular base approximately five hundred feet from the ground. He suspected that this was a giant spaceship. When they came closer his laser pistol went up to the bottom of the base instead of going down. Now he got the answer: the giant floating structure was resting above the magnetic field on a retraction principle of magnetism. Why did they do this? he asked himself. Then he remembered the mild tremor that had jolted the land a while ago. This giant structure was designed intelligently by a genius structural engineer; it's seismic-proof, he concluded silently. The hatch below the base opened and they got in. He saw a breathtaking community; their buildings were made of shells and jasper in marvelous mosaic designs. The foot patrol led him to the medical edifice.
“Please give me that head, stranger,” the alien surgeon begged.
“No, I won’t! . . . unless . . . you” Mark replied.
“Please young man, don’t create further trouble. After a few minutes that head will be lifeless. There’s no way for you to escape death." the alien surgeon warned, wagging his finger.
Mark changed his mind and politely handed the head over. The surgeon placed the head and the body on the operating table. The abdomen was cut open. To Mark’s astonishment, the anatomy was made of lightweight carbon fiber with a microcomputer heart pumping in rhythm; other parts were also mechanical. It had a pinkish translucent skin and jellylike flesh.
After a laser beam operation, the patient began to move. Mark was stunned by what he saw. The man Mark supposed he had slaughtered was now well and sound, standing in front of him displaying a smile.
“Welcome to our planet, Kuralus, young man . . . and accept my friendship, Mr.”
“I’m Mark Gouch. . .. Congratulations on your spectacular recovery. . .. I understand you’re all bionic robots here.”
“You’ve gotten the wrong impression, Mr. Gouch. On the contrary, we’ve got our complete senses. We can talk, we can smell, we can see, we can feel, we can hear, but unfortunately some of us can't have a single teardrop fall from our eyes."
“Oh, I see . . . you mean you’re all perfectly programmed bionic machines?” Mark inquired.
“Oh-h-h no, we’re not programmed neither. . .. Well, in fact, my memory can still recall what transpired several years back. . .. I’ve a
real human brain; all other parts of my body were mechanically crafted to suit general needs.”
“Oh, how terrific! What a medical achievement you’ve attained here. Your race has a very advanced medical technology indeed. You’ve perfected the cyborganism. . .. Due to this extraordinary achievement your people may attain immortality.” Mark was very impressed by the aliens' advancement.
“Aha, you’re telling me that we applaud all this? . . . You’re wrong again my friend. On the contrary, we’ve been suffering from disillusionment. There are many things that aren’t around compared to other habitable planets."
“What self-pity, Mister--”
“I’m sorry; I forgot to introduce us. I'm Capt. Hans Minilai, and my surgeon is Dr. Varun Chopra."
The alien officer was pacing back and forth while pressing his palm to his neck.
“Are you native to this planet?” Mark asked.
“No, we aren’t. . .. You know, some of us here had buried the past memory in oblivion. We came from the lost planet; it’s from the far galaxy. . .. It was ruled by some super beasts. The most prominent were the winged beast called Hawk, which had authority over the sky and seas, then the other beast, which had four legs and was called Bear; it ruled supreme over a large portion of the land, air, and seas. The third beast was called Red Dragon; it was silently sleeping in its habitat in the eastern region of the lost planet. It so happened that a stray destructive bomb of unknown origin had exploded in the Red Dragon’s breeding turf, killing instantly millions of its minions. The Red Dragon became furious. . .. A white dove came to console the grieving beast and try to restore peace, but when the peacemaker failed to identify who was responsible for the violent act, the Red Dragon turned down the latter’s peace initiative.
“The weeping dragon then rose from its long hibernation and millions of its army marched westward, meeting no resistance along their path. . .. They occupied the oilfields that supplied 60 percent of the planet’s domestic energy and struck the first blow; it plugged all the liquefied energy's outlets, depriving the rest of the world of its energy requirements. The result was worldwide anarchy. The other two super beasts were accusing each other of ejecting the killer bomb until their heated argument inflamed into a full-scale nuclear war. The flaming Red Dragon with the alliance of some sympathetic kingdoms widened its clout closer to the west and sowed terror along the way.
The Embryo of the Star Page 11