by Judy Carroll
“That’s just typical Australian humor,” I chuckled. “Red-haired males are always nick-named Blue by their friends. But surely he can’t be that bad. I noticed that the information on him mentions he owns a cat, so he must have a gentle streak hidden away under all the outer bluster.”
“Oh, my goodness — yes, the cat! One night we brought it on board with him, thinking that having his pet along would keep him a bit calmer, but the rotten thing is worse than its owner. It wrecked a computer monitor and two laparoscopes, got all tangled up in the opulater and nearly took Dagar’s left eye out with a highly effective feline appendage armed with scythe-like claws that lashed out in all directions. Oh no, Alarca, never ever make the mistake of bringing Bazza the Cat on board!”
The language could be heard three corridors away — loud, profane bellowing that sounded totally alien in the usually quietly clinical atmosphere of the Mothership. Hesitating for only a moment, I bravely poked my head around the door and came face to face with a red-faced and furious human male of gigantic proportions.
“SHIT! Bugger orff yer little creep!” he screamed, letting fly with a hamlike fist which missed Zogar’s head by inches. “If any of youse f—kin’ little freaks TOUCHES me I’ll bloody murder the lotta yers! Don’t you damned-well come near me! I’m WARNIN’ yers! Bloody bunch o’ friggin’ pixies! Piss ORFF!”
A hastily aimed ray of blue light hit him between the eyes, paralyzing him from head to foot but at the same time surrounding him with a protective energy field to prevent his falling to the floor. Dagar was then able to levitate him up onto the examination table, as everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Paralyzed as he was, his eyesight was still functioning, and as I moved towards him he managed to shift his horrified gaze in my direction. His expression shocked me to the core of my being. Never had I seen such loathing on a human face.
I tried to smile in a friendly way, to communicate to him not to be scared and that we meant him no harm, but our gray containers simply don’t have the capabilities for such physical and verbal communication with an Earth human, and his profound level of fear blocked any attempt on our part to express a telepathic reassurance. All we could do was to get on with the job.
A quarter-hour or so later, Zogar looked up from the work he’d been carrying out on the lower part of the man’s body. Having been totally occupied for the past ten minutes in acquiring a decent sperm sample for our genetic program, it was only now, with that part of the procedure completed, that he could turn his attention to Dagar and me, as we inserted an implant into the head.
“Phew, that’s a good job done! How’s it going for you?”
“Almost finished,” we replied in unison. Delving deeply with long and dexterous gray fingers, Dagar activated the implant while I steadied the man’s head. Unlike the ‘alien’ implants that some Earth humans have been fitted with by the clandestine Controller group on Earth, ours are generally not physical objects but rather of a higher vibrational frequency. They provide us with ongoing information on the person’s physical and mental health, emotions, etc.
“Is that a biofeedback one or a frequency modulator?” Zogar enquired.
“Frequency modulator, so it should help alleviate the gall bladder problem he’s developing,” Dagar replied. “Did you manage to get a decent sample down your end?”
“Not too bad. Funny that, the way some of these Earth humans are happy to spread their seed far and wide without much thought at all for the consequences, and yet when we take a tiny sample they get all upset about it, and so angry and embarrassed. For goodness sake, they do artificial insemination procedures all the time on other creatures on their planet, so what’s the big deal?”
Once the job was done, I placed a hand on the man’s head, causing a shift in his vibrational frequency. That way we could return him safely to his bed, and with a bit of luck he wouldn’t remember anything the next morning, although he probably would notice the long, straight, sealed cut on his leg down near the ankle, where a second implant had been inserted to implement further adjustments to his energy system.
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Chapter 15 Blue
The public bar of the Exchange Hotel was already awash with conversation and beer. The hour was early, only half-past five on a Tuesday afternoon, so the voices were still reasonably subdued, unlike the raucous crescendo that would fill the room later in the evening as customers became increasingly charged with conviviality, good cheer and drunken outbursts brought about by over-indulgence in the amber fluid so enthusiastically consumed by Australian males both young and old.
A large, ginger-haired and bewhiskered man sat alone in a corner, muddy work boots sprawled under the table, calloused elbows slumped dejectedly on top, and unseeing eyes staring into the depths of an over-sized mug of beer, which sat still untouched in front of him. Just then a small, balding, sandy-colored man with a slight paunch overhanging the waistband of his faded and well-worn jeans approached Ginger Top in friendly greeting.
“G’day Blue! How ya goin’ mate?”
No response was forthcoming.
“BLUE!” the small man raised his voice for a second attempt. “Wot’s wrong with ya? Ya bloody DEAF or somethin’?”
The man called Blue jumped, as if waking from a dream.
“Ah, sorry mate, I was bloody miles away. How are ya? While since I seen ya.”
“Yeah, too right! Been up to me arse in work. Yer’d think they’d give a man a break this time’ve year in this awful bloody weather, but nah, bloody phone never stops ringin’. Jus’ f—in’ amazin’ wot people’ll try ter flush down th’ dunny, then bloody ring me at two bloody 30 in the damn mornin’ ter git me ter come an’ unblock the bloody pipes! Ah shit! Still, can’t complain I s’pose. Better’n bein’ on the dole fer Chrisake! Anyway, ‘nuff of me, how about you mate? Still diggin’ holes fer the bloody council?”
“Aw shit yeah, mate! An’ still on the same bloody job as last time I saw ya. We’ll be there fer the next ten bloody years I reckon, wot with ‘go slows’ an’ strikes! Still, gotta keep the bastards honest, Johnno me ol’ mate. Gotta keep ‘em honest.”
“Yeah mate, you’re tellin’ me. Bloody council! Pack of bastards if ya ask me! By the way, howzit with the missus away? Last time I saw ya she was takin’ orf fer two months’ holiday on the Gold Coast wif ‘er sister, wasn’t she? Due back soon I s’pose, worse luck! Bet yous’ve enjoyed ya eight weeks’ve freedom, ya lucky sod!”
“Well,” Blue replied with a deep sigh, “ter tell ya the truth, I’ll be bloody glad ter see ‘er back! A man gits a bit lonely after a while on ‘is own.”
“Oh HO! Ya mean when ya not gittin’ a bit, ya randy ol’ bugger! Thought yers was well past it by now!”
“Aw, knock orf the dumb jokes, ya silly bastard! Anyway, that’s not wot I’m damn-well talkin’ about. An’ I’m not bloody past it if ya really wanna know! Not by a long shot! Jes’ ask the missus if ya don’t believe me! But hell no mate, that’s not the bloody problem.”
“Well, wot is it then, Blue? Don’t tell me ya scared stayin’ in the house all on ya lonesome. Wotcha worried about? Bogey Men or somethin’?”
“Ah, shaddup, Johnno! Yer an idiot!”
“Nah, seriously mate, all kiddin’ aside. I could see when I come in that yers were worried about somethin’. Fair dinkum, yers were right orf with the fairies! Look mate, ya can tell me, after all, we bin mates fer a long bloody time — ol’ cobbers through thick an’ thin. Wot are mates for, anyway?’
“Shit no. Yer’ll jes’ laugh!”
“No I won’t, Blue. Fair dinkum! Struth mate, we all got somethin’ we’re scared of. You’d prob’ly piss yerself laughin’ if I told ya I was scared bloody stiff of frogs. All soft an’ spongy an’ slimey! Yuk! Couldn’ touch one o’ them nasty little buggers if ya paid me a million dollars! Now come on, mate, out with it! Wot’s botherin’ ya?”
“Ah shit, Johnno, I dunno! It all started with these funny sorta dreams I bin gittin’
for Gawd knows how long.”
Blue shuddered at the memory, and took a long swig of beer. The pair of them sat in silence for almost a full minute as he went back to staring unseeing into his mug.
Finally Johnno’s curiosity and impatience got the better of him. “Well, go on, mate,” he prodded. “Wot about the dreams?”
Blue took another prolonged swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he emptied his mug in an attempt to give himself ‘dutch courage’ before going on.
“Well, let’s see. Mostly they start with this really weird sensation of me whole body bein’ lifted up orf the bed, an’ I’m all sorta paralyzed, like I can’t move a bloody muscle. Bloody awful feelin’ it is I’m tellin ya. Look, you know me, Johnno mate. I’m a bloke who likes ter be in control of the situation — ya know wot I mean? Me own boss kinda thing, not a bloody puppet controlled by some other bastard. Anyway, after I’m lifted up, I find meself on board some sorta bloody craft, like a flyin’ saucer thingo. I’m lyin’on a table, with these really weird little creeps doin’ things ter me. Oh, Gawd, it’s bloody ‘orrible!”
“Jeez mate! Like wot do they do ter ya?” Johnno was agog.
“Aw cripes, it’s like they take stuff outta me, blood an’ such like. An’ sometimes the dirty little creeps even put some sorta contraption over me privates an’ you know, do stuff ter me ter git a sample!”
“Wotcha mean — a sample, Blue?”
“Aw fer cryin’out bloody loud, Johnno! You know wot I mean! Do I hafta spell it out for yers? SPERM mate! Bloody SPERM! Gawd it’s embarrassing, I’m tellin’ ya!” Blue shuddered at the very thought, his face turning bright crimson right to the roots of his ginger hair.
“Now jus’ hang on a minute mate!” Johnno interrupted. “First ya tellin’ me it’s dreams ya havin’, now ya tellin’ me ya atcherly getting’ stuff done ter ya! Who is it wot’s doin’ all this anyway?”
“Ah jeez mate, that’s the worst bloody part! They ain’t human! They jus’ ain’t bloody human!”
“How do ya friggin’ mean they ain’t human?”
“Jus’ wot I said! Not bloody human! They’re real freaks, like bloody robots, or puppets, or insects or somethin’! All really skinny an’ a sorta gray color, with big heads an’ huge bloody black eyes that sorta wrap around their skulls!”
“Crikey Blue, ya kiddin’! Hey, I’ve jus’ had a thought! Whyn’t ya set ol’ Baz on ‘em next time they come afta yers. Good ol’ Baz’d give ‘em a run fer their bloody money!”
“Aw come orf it Johnno! Wot’d an ol’ ginger tom like Bazza do against little creeps like that? They ain’t sparrers or grass’oppers! A man’d be better orf settin’ a cattle dog on ‘em — or better still, a bloody great pit bull! Yeah, come ter think of it, I might jus’ git meself a nice big bully! But hell’s bells, I don’ reckon even one o’ them’d do much good against those little bleeders! It’s like I sed before mate — they jus’ ain’t bloody HUMAN!”
“Bloody hell Blue, you sure ya ain’t dreamin’? I mean ter say, maybe yers’re goin’ balmy an’ imaginin’ all this! Shit, it can’t really be happenin’. Maybe ya should go see a shrink or somethin’.”
“Johnno, mate, I’m not bloody imaginin’ it! I’ve got friggin’ proof! Physical bloody evidence as the coppers’d say!”
“What? Aw come orf it Blue!”
“Struth I have mate! Look here.”
So saying, Blue bent down and rolled his thick sock down to the top of his boot, revealing bruises on his lower leg in the exact shape of four-fingered hands. Between them was a long, perfectly straight cut, obviously caused by an extremely sharp surgical instrument. Tiny blisters ran the length of the incision, as if it had been sealed artificially.
“Jesus H. Christ!” Johnno gasped in a voice tinged with fear and disbelief. “I need a drink! A bloody strong one!”
“My shout mate," said Blue in a sick and quavering voice. “Let’s make it a double bloody scotch!”
“Aw shit, Blue, I could go a triple. With a beer chaser!”
top/bot
Chapter 16 Realm History 101
“Your attention, please, everybody!” Maris’s strong telepathic command cut through the conversations of the assembled group of 30 as his blue light body floated up to the front of the lecture hall on the big disc. With no clinical work scheduled for the night, he was able to comfortably remain in his true form rather than having to don one of the specially created gray containers which constitute our physical working garb. He was appearing tonight as a blue light, as he was carrying out communication work. A couple of the students were also completely out of body, although most, myself included, still dressed in a container while on the disc. These containers were stored on board, ready for us to step into when required. Our gray containers are totally attuned to our own individual energy signature.
“In tonight’s lecture,” he began, “I will cover a little more of the fascinating history of our beloved Realm. After the destruction of the Atlantean civilization, which gave rise to the so-called ‘great flood’ of the Bible, our people were forced to leave Planet Earth in the hands of the Controllers. Over the following millennia we regrouped, expanded and grew in strength, and eventually were ready to return, to try to make things right. Nothing had been heard of the negative group for some time, so we assumed they had self-destructed, along with Atlantis.
“Our people established a base in the northern part of what Earth humans call India, in the Himalaya Mountains. This base housed about 3,000 personnel and was set up inside a mountain which had been hollowed out to create a large enough area to accommodate a number of our discs as well as staff members. Thus our installation was well hidden from the local human population, who, seeing our ships regularly coming and going overhead, came to know them as ‘Vimanas.’ It was during this period that we introduced the Vedic Teachings to this area on the planet, in a bid to restore some of the lost spiritual heritage to the native inhabitants.
“Not too long after we’d established our presence there, our base came under a surprise attack from a remnant of the Controller Forces. We were completely unaware of the fact that they had their own underground base on Mars, probably since the time of Atlantis, and had been observing us for some time. All of our personnel were captured, subjected to torture, including brainwashing by the Controllers’ crystal-energy technique, then forcibly removed from their gray containers and imprisoned inside Earth human containers, from which they could not escape.”
It was obvious to all of us present in the room that, even after many millennia, our Teacher was still deeply affected by the memory of this terrible catastrophe that befell our people. Unlike Earth humans, dying does not interfere with our soul memories. With so much more soul consciousness awake and expanded, especially at the Teacher level, Maris is consciously aware of his entire soul history plus that of our whole civilization, so events that occurred long ago are still reasonably fresh in his mind.
To Earth human eyes we may seem lacking in “normal” qualities and emotions, but we, the soul essence and personality motivating the artificial containers we reside in, are every bit as alive, sentient and “feeling” as any Earth human. In fact we share exactly the same God Consciousness as Earth humans, and of every other civilization throughout the universe. The only difference is that our emotions vibrate on a higher frequency, way beyond the very limited perception of energy that Earth humans can detect. And, being in artificial or semi-artificial bodies, we cannot easily express our emotions physically. These containers are designed specifically for travel in deep space.
The problem is, Earth humans tend to measure everything in the universe by their own capabilities and perceptions, but what they can’t, or don’t want to understand is that their capabilities and perceptions are extremely limited and therefore do not make a reliable yard stick with which to measure what is going on outside of their own immediate area. Even though we may be viewed as robots sometimes, our emotions run very stro
ng, and at that moment it was obvious to us that our beloved Teacher was still affected by these past memories. Quite some time passed before his light body regained its full brightness, but masterfully controlling his emotions, he continued with the lesson.
“Naturally we were extremely upset by the loss of our recently established base and all of our personnel, including disc pilots and crew, as well as communication, medical and administrative staff, so we sent a rescue mission to Earth to look for them. This group was also attacked, captured and treated in the same way as the others, having their memories removed and replaced with false screen images and hypnotic commands, and imprisoned on Earth in biological bodies.
“Some of them are still down there, along with the native inhabitants of the planet, because until recently the energies of Earth have prevented us from reaching them. Trying to approach physically to pick them up is too dangerous, and their minds are still too deeply affected by Controller-engendered illusions and fear for communication to be established telepathically. These members of our lost patrol are the ones we are especially trying to re-establish contact with, in order to wake them up to their true identity. We have managed to fit them all with implants so we can keep track of them, but they’ve been so brainwashed by the fear-mongering tactics of the Controllers, our job is not easy. Our goal is to just wake them up to the truth of who and what they really are, then their own free will and self-empowerment will be enough to set them free. This of course applies to all the others down there as well — they just need to know the truth of what is really going on.
“During our investigation into the loss of our base, we discovered that the Controllers had been operating their own secret base for millennia. We sent our ships out to do battle with them, and we finally defeated them in a massive space war. This battle, which had its beginnings in the skies over India, is the so-called War in Heaven so graphically described in the Vedas.