MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  “Not good, sir.” He maintained vigil on the monitor to his front, fingers poised over the keyboard. “The interference we detected above Nicaragua can’t be categorised. The computer is working overtime but there’s not much else we can do without programmed data for it to work from.”

  “I thought that the computer was up to date with programmed data.”

  “That was last month, sir. Anything could have happened between then and now; especially with the talks in Compos Mentis.”

  “Well, is there any human educated guess, Mr Forster?”

  “Not really, sir. We covered space blocks, curved space interferences, and scan waves during my training course on planet Glaucuna, but this; I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Do you think the computer will come up with an estimation, or logical answer, if given the time, Mr Forster?”

  “No idea, sir. If we had the ground link satellite working, I may be able to send for some program data; up dated stuff, sir.”

  “Very well, Mr Forster. Keep at it and let me know if you come up with any breakthroughs.”

  Cornelius left the situation as it was and walked out and down the corridor towards the bridge. The small lights of the ship shining bright from their embedded cavities along the ceiling flickered slightly, an indication that external work was still being carried out on the small station.

  He was soon at the hatch to the bridge. He pulled the large lever up, unlocking it from its jam, a spacelab safety requirement when the auto cannon was off – all doors were to remain sealed.

  “Morning sir; or is it afternoon?”

  “Morning I think, Mr Home.” He had spent six months on the spacelab and still wasn’t used to the running of the day. He was looking forward to a long earned rest back on Earth. A replacement was expected any day now.

  A tight ship was a good ship and always impressed visiting dignitaries. The promotion board was also scheduled for next month, and he badly wanted his name on it. “I see by the lighting that Miss Shannon is still working on the ground link satellite.”

  “Yes, sir.” Home moved his right hand up and flicked a switch. Another monitor was brought to life. The external camera panned and brought Shannon to clarity.

  A paint chip from some old space junk had gone straight through the affixed satellite, taking with it two of the smaller panels.

  Shannon was watched eagerly, the space welder making its final join. “Do you know how long she’ll be?”

  “Just a couple of minutes now, sir. That join she’s connecting now is the power modulator for the dish. It should be over shortly and the automatic cannon will be put back on line.”

  The automatic cannon was the ship’s safety mechanism, destroying all approaching alien matter from anything sized from a nut to an old satellite. The cannon however, wasn’t perfect. The odd paint chip did get through to the stations silvery surface. The chips were never large enough to destroy the ship, but a hurtling nut or bolt could bring devastation, if hit by one of those, the space lab could quite easily blow outwards, like shrapnel from a grenade.

  Any external maintenance on the vessel required that the auto cannon be turned off. This was the most dangerous of times. Shannon was the satellite engineer, and although she knew little about most of the other satellites that revolved the planet below, she was the most qualified for the spacelab. She had helped with its construction years before when the older model, Spacelab Eight, went to the junkyard for scrap. There were four of these labs all told, all manned and sitting in space.

  The monitor was watched keenly. Shannon turned a knob on the welder, extinguishing the oxygen fed magnesium spot weld. She now slung it over her left shoulder and stretched out, grabbing the thin safety cord, and pulled herself slowly towards the bay door.

  Cornelius retreated from the bridge to meet Shannon as the inner door of the bay opened up. She removed her helmet, shook her long blonde hair loose, and unbuckled the harness as she stepped out. “Captain.”

  “Miss Shannon, and how may I ask are you this day?”

  “Fine thank you, sir.” She detested the captain for this. Always showing affection for her when she didn’t want it, and never seeming to care about anyone else. ‘Ask me how the work went you fool.’

  “I was wondering if you would oblige me by accepting dinner tonight? It’s been awhile, and I won’t be here for many more days now. A farewell to a worthy crew.”

  “Yes, Captain,” a smile came across his face, “it has been awhile, and no, I don’t accept.” She pushed past the captain, his grin disappearing. “The ground link satellite should be working fine now, sir.” She continued towards her quarters, not daring to look back at the stunned Cornelius. “Oh, how I’m looking forward to another peaceful night alone.”

  “I hope you aren’t going to be this coy when my replacement arrives, Miss Shannon. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

  “Of course not, sir. Captain Charles Ray used to be an old boyfriend of mine.”

  Cornelius had one last thought as she disappeared from view: ‘I hope she gets a brain tumour.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  PLANET VERTON.

  PARLIAMENT GORE.

  The Vertons were quick to call a meeting of war in Parliament Gore on their home planet.

  The Warlords sat quietly as Muriphure Vetty stood, he being their planet representative from Basbi Triad.

  The walls of the theatre were covered in banners of war and battles won, and statuettes stood proud, ten metres high in all corners of the octagonal room. Paintings of specific battles, which had a special place in the history books, also decorated the pink marble walls.

  “The Equatians are the responsible ones, there’s no doubt of that. All that they wish is to manufacture weapons of great destruction, not for the purpose of defence, but for the purpose of conquering their own quadrant. They obviously intend to enslave the planets that they once swore to protect, and then bring the final blow of destruction to all existing quadrants within the Milky Way. They do this with the full intention of becoming the centre of the Galaxy and the centre of all attention.” He pounded his fist onto the stone tabletop, driving home his accusation, leaving no doubt as to where his thoughts lie.

  “We know this to be true due to repeated history. We cannot be blind. This will be the fifth inter-quadrant threat. Their talks of peace are nothing but a misguiding pawn in their strategic plan for victory.” He glanced around the forum at the leaders and generals of Verton’s greatest of legions and mercenary forces. “The people of the Darkside Basbi Triad are fully aware of this. They themselves are fighting for the cause of Equatia. I have no proof of their loyalty. I question; where did the fuel for the Darkside’s defying push past the Twilight come from? It was all very well planned indeed.” Muriphure began to pace the floor. “It’s my third eye; my tactical genius – if I may be so bold to say – that brings me to the following conclusions: Number one; Basbi Triad should be left alone, this is of no strategic importance as yet. Sympathisers such as planets Earth, Glaucuna and Erulstina will most definitely go to their aid within the blink of an eye. The looming violence on Basbi Triad will be our weapon against them later. Whilst we crush Equatia, the forces on Basbi Triad will dwindle. Number two; this will also give us time to bargain for the much needed resources and minerals from planet Irshstup. I talk bargain by force; Irshstup will be easy to win over; probably without a fight. Whilst we bargain, Equatia will be felled. Our grip on that planet will be a guiding light. We shall show ever-lasting peace in their quadrant, a shrouded peace; another bargaining tool. Reinforcements to Basbi triad will be cut off, and our diamonds and pearls will pay for more mercenary help from the other planets of Quadrant Three close to Equatia, placing that entire quadrant in our power. Number three; the time will then be right. From Equatia, Irshstup, and Verton, we will descend upon Basbi Triad without warning. We will conquer and push out the peace-lovers. Last of all; once our presence on Basbi Triad has
given us the power we need, we then, alone, can be seen to be the ones pursuing peace and become the ruling planet of our quadrant, and the ruling quadrant in all of the galaxy.” He stopped pacing and looked around again at all of the political adversaries, whom for once appeared to be nodding their heads in agreement. He brought fourth his final words: “Rulers of war and peace; I give you the Milky Way!”

  The audience stood and erupted in applause. Muriphure held his arms high to receive the emotion from the battle hungry beings of Parliament Gore. He was a truly magnificent leader, councillor, and countryman.

  The meeting had soon come to a close and just in time. Muriphure had an invitation to dine with the extinguished Imperial War Lady and leader of Verton, Empress Sualimani Natashafuna Dimala the Fourth.

  The palace stood on a solid rock formation, a small hill surrounded by nothing more than a hundred metres of bare ground, cracking under the ever-changing atmosphere. Four seasons in one day, all of which were hotter than those experienced on Earth.

  Only two guards stood at the entrance of the palace, standing in the cavity of the wall itself. An invisible shield lay down the front of each, which helped in containing the controlled temperature for which the body required in order to survive. Each was clad in suits of loose material. Thin thermal gloves covered their hands, still allowing them easy control of their weapons, known quite categorically as the mind scan. These were capable of removing a beings mind, collapsing his nervous system, stealing his knowledge on how to breathe, until all that remained was a wriggling form of pure insanity. Slowly the body would stop its convulsions; the blood within the arteries would then retract into the body, leaving a pure white skin, warning others of its treachery. They had a saying to match the weapon; one shot, one breath.

  Each of the guards was bald, one of the many signs of the Legion Millennium, the oldest and bravest of all ranking veterans of war. Helmets of pure glass rest under their arms, a seal of life being given when placed over the head, a necessary formality if contact with the outside atmosphere was going to be undertaken for any great length of time.

  Muriphure approached the two guards, each with his right arm outstretched down the right side of his body; just centimetres above their mind scans. Vetty was alone, walking the long thin path towards the entrance, giving him ample time to think: ‘How best to dispose of these inferior quadrants. They’re nothing but barriers of straw that stand before my naked flame of terror.’

  His subconsciousness forced him to remain on the path, to remain staring directly to his front. His pupils focussed on the door. He smiled. He knew well, as all did that travelled this path, of the balai timit. He thought consciously of it now, but careful not to show his consciousness, hiding it behind a shield of meditation; unmoving – eye. All it would take was a quick glance out to the corner of his eye, the slightest proof that the pupil had moved from its central focus on the door to his front and the balai timit would leap from their hides in the cracking ground. These trap doors were the size of an open hand and the balai timit was only slightly smaller than this.

  Travelling through the air they would direct their assault against the groin and the throat of any living thing, killing it in seconds, devouring the flesh in similarity to the earth’s Piranha. Devouring anything that dare show any signs of pupil consciousness – consciously looking.

  He had now reached the point between the two guards, only now did he turn to look around, catching a glimpse of a balai timit as it swiftly moved from one hole in the ground to another, the trap door snatching closed behind it. The guards said nothing.

  The door immediately opened to reveal a small closet, this he entered. The door behind him closed and another to his front opened. He now removed the helmet from his head. A servant dressed in a black suit of suede bowed before him. “Good day to you, Lord Vetty; your empress is waiting for you in the blue chamber. The other guests have arrived.”

  “Good.” He handed the helmet to the servant and stepped from his protective clothing, revealing the uniform of an officer of the legion, a loosely embroidered fabric. He stepped past the weary old man. “Take those with you and be gone. I’ll announce myself this evening.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” He bowed again and picked the articles of clothing up from the floor as Muriphure made his way towards the chamber in question. He soon arrived at a blue door and moved straight in, no knock of announcement as to his arrival. The refreshing blue surroundings gave him an immediate feeling of coolness.

  The other five guests turned to face Vetty as he moved over to the Empress Dimala. A greeting was exchanged, a simple handshake, confirming the bond of trust which stood between all great leaders. “My lady. It’s with a pleasure that I find myself in your company but once again,” a friendly nod sought the eyes of the other guests, “and I look forward to another afternoon with my old familiars.”

  “It’s not just your pleasure which is satisfied; we too are strengthened by emotion— and to the quest which seems to grip all of the Warlords of this planet; together; today, and tomorrow.” The grip was released and the empress lifted up the sides of the draping dress that she wore with such elegance, a brilliant green contrast that was offset by the blue of the room. Turning now, she showed it off. “A simple garment. A long lost gift given to me by the council of the first quadrant – although I must say, it doesn’t appeal to many beings. It has such an overwhelming character.” She paused now. “What do you think Muriphure?”

  “I think that my empress would look good in an atmosphere suit which had seen many days of wear. It’s not what we see that will be our judge, but what the mind’s eye sees beyond the garb.”

  “You talk such lies, Muriphure. I hope that a glass of yantus milk will seize your tongue.” She stopped showing off the dress now and looked around, addressing all, as though expecting to catch a complaint. “It will be the drink of tonight’s meal. Let’s move in now. The first course will be presented shortly. Maybe a few glasses of yantus will do us all good.”

  They moved into the dining area and were seated by stewards. The glasses were filled. Yantus milk was a mind drink. Not controlling or numbing. Not a drink of tricks or one of brain cell mutilation, but a relaxing substance that gave life and stole that which most possessed – the power not to talk the truth. A meeting of this calibre always ran more smoothly with the yantus. A Verton’s mind speaking the truth and letting known its thoughts to all, on all matters, political or otherwise; it was an asset, in most cases. It could also be quite revealing. Quite a few generals of the legion were executed for saying more than what was welcome.

  The meal went well, all points, on all matters, which evolved Basbi Triad, being conversed upon. All had agreed that war was the only key for a powerful race to take and that if any one race had to be rulers, then that race was to be none other than the Verton. Only Dimala’s thoughts remained her own, for she’d arranged for her yantus to be of a synthetic source.

  The phases of war were sworn upon, and all agreed to the tactical and political side of all matters. Two divisions of mercenary forces would embark upon Irshstup for the much-needed supplies and strategic positioning. At exactly the same time a force of no less than ten divisions of legion, would take control of Equatia.

  Muriphure had the final words as normal. “Then I bid you all good luck. Each commanding Lord, of his force, will run his force to meet his needs; under possible change by myself, of course. I shall take Equatia and no being will interfere with my progress.” He held his glass up and exchanged a gentle nod with the Empress Dimala. “To the new quadrant.” The yantus milk was drunk and the conversation changed.

  The orders had been written.

  PLANET EARTH.

  SPACE.

  Cornelius stood with both hands resting on the back of the seat where Forster sat. The final keys were punched. “We have it, sir. The program sent from Glaucuna has arrived.”

  “Let me see.” He eyeballed the monitor and read out loud. “The i
nterference of such proportions is an indication of invisible force and pulse of intervening scanner – anti signature vibration. Such vibration indicates and offers only one conclusion; a cloaking device.” Cornelius read the report again, this time to himself. “Tell me your thoughts on this, Mr Forster.”

  “I have no information as to who uses such measures. No military folio that I have read during my training has ever indicated to me that any one planet holds such a device of military power.”

  “I asked for your thoughts, not for what you do or do not know.”

  “I have no thoughts on this enigma, sir. I cannot have a thought on something that doesn’t exist.”

  “Well something must exist, Forster, or how else would the Glaucunans have something on record?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The captain stood erect and moved to the side of Forster. “Send the information directly to the Mildratawa, immediately; and did yesterday’s information get received.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cornelius turned to leave. “Sir; scanners have picked up the vessel Interpretus, approaching from 1, 9, 2, 2, 0, 5.”

  “Switch off the auto cannon on range, as usual. Switch on again after docking procedure had been completed;” ‘at last, my replacement.’

  “Affirmative, sir.”

  “I’ll be on the bridge if I’m needed.”

  The docking was completed without problem and a day earlier than anticipated. This pleased Cornelius to no end. He greeted the new captain in a formal manner and escorted him to his quarters. He was surprised that Shannon hadn’t yet shown up. They entered the large cabin with little more than warm words of introduction.

  “As I say, Cornelius, I look forward to my stay here on the lab, although some aspects sound deeply disappointing and boring. The task itself is one of great importance though; don’t you think?”

  “Why, certainly, Charles,” ‘you fool,’ “but I must admit to my anxiety in returning to Earth.”