MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  “At least we now know where the Darkside is getting its fuel. I found it quite hard to accept that Equatia would rally to such a state of war. The Vertons will certainly not accept the fact that this El Pasadora was the main arbitrator against peace. Even if they did bring themselves to believe in Equatia, it still would not bring them to a standstill; not now.” Muutampai stood and stepped from the desert tent with Jools close behind.

  Literally thousands of soldiers could be seen around the semi-permanent defence locality. “All of these men are loyal, and I have many camps similar to this one.” Muutampai turned to face Jools. “It’s taken us five days to reach this form of defence and tactical displacement. All of my commanders have been informed to revert to this form of guerrilla warfare. We have never done this before. Tell me, Mr De Cane; were any of your personnel aware of our situation? I’m not talking long term you understand.”

  “No, sir. We had no idea of the seriousness of the problem, or the success of the Darkside’s assaults.”

  “It’ll take a millennium to take back and control the Twilight Zone now. We only offer a small resistance as we stand at the moment. If help arrives as you suggest, then we’ll be assured of a successful hit.”

  “Taking back control can’t be your only thought, sir. You must start to contemplate how you are going to bring peace amongst your people. Just forcing them back over the lines of the Twilight isn’t good enough. The Mildratawa doesn’t want a recurrence of this ever again.”

  “I can understand your concern.” He looked away now, into the distance. “But it’s not as easy as you think.”

  “I’ll accept that if you’ll accept this: If you can’t contain your people, then the Mildratawa will be forced to take steps to prevent any further incursions, and your planet will be run as a police state.”

  Muutampai spat back. “Come now! You can’t tell me for an instant that your world is a satisfactory habitat in which to live! Your people are always on the verge of war, and as for all of this trouble, it was started by El Pasadora, a man from Earth!”

  “You’re a fool, Muutampai! A swine of a fool!” Several guards stood ready to react with weapons pointing. “El Pasadora is a Basbi Triad; just, like, you!” He lowered his head to quickly collect his thoughts as Muutampai waved off the stance of the guards. “He left Basbi triad when he was fifteen years old, and changed his name shortly after arrival on the planet Earth. He was even given Human status and the chip to go along with it; a chip usually installed at birth to designate that child as an Earth Citizen. Shortly after this he went into a self-imposed exile in Nicaragua and apparently got caught in a fire and was horribly burnt. No photos of him exist, and no one has seen him since the chip implant. But as for the rest of it, yes, we are nearly on the verge of war, but peace has been maintained. Just because a few of the smaller nations constantly bicker over land rights and such, is no reason to point the finger in my direction. And Earth may have been the starting point from whence the galaxy as the Mildratawa knows it was born through colonisation, but we live satisfactorily and without affecting the lives of other quadrants.” He took time for a pause and another deep breath, looking up again. “Quarrelling will do us no good, sir. We both know the requirements. Let’s do what needs to be done; and please, don’t keep me from any of your meetings with your commanders. It would be to your advantage if you informed me of everything that you intend to carry out. Please keep me up-to-date.”

  “You’ll be granted that.” Muutampai stepped off slowly with his hands interlocked behind the small of his back, a physical signal to Jools that he needed time alone. And deep in thought Muutampai peered around at his vigilant force. Six thousand men waiting patiently for whatever may arise.

  PLANET EQUATIA.

  THE PALACE.

  John Younge sat comfortably with Queen Druad Asti, King Salami Asti, and the leader of all parliamentary and Mildratawa meetings, Mimbar Stu. The palace was one of the most magnificent buildings he’d surely seen in his entire life, yet the room in which they sat was extraordinarily small in comparison.

  The table was no more than ten feet in length. John and the planet’s leader sat opposite at the table’s shortest width. John peered over to the Queen with a smile, her thin face displaying little commodity such as make-up, but still beautiful for a fifty year old. Her long hair was held neatly together by a hair net that allowed her neck to light up her entire face. Her ruffled gown streaked with colour and was embroidered to perfection, but not overdone, and little jewellery lay upon her thin fingers.

  She looked over to the King, who sat at the head of the table, placing another fork full of yoebla steak into his mouth. His age was also held well, amongst his many wrinkles, which only added to his character. His fine moustache gave a mysterious authority and he was dressed well with a thin band of black gold twined around the crown of his head.

  From the foot of the table Mimbar spoke: “Mr Younge’s men seem to be a well-trained garrison, my lord,” looking now to John. “They appear fit and are well disciplined. Do you think that they’re really necessary though? I mean to say, we have a large army of our own.”

  “Two thousand in strength I believe, sir.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  The King and Queen continued to eat but their listening was evident as their heads moved from side to side, from speaker to speaker. Mimbar’s face was a hardened one, one attained from many battles. Not very often would a parliamentarian be seen to actually partake in the battle itself, but Mimbar relished such opportunities. His long hair was held in a ponytail fashion, to the right side of his head. John had never noticed it before, never during meetings of the Mildratawa; but of course, a religious feature of many of the tribes in the area, and no doubt, his two thousand warriors.

  “And what weaponry do you have?” John knew full well that Equatia was a fairly poor planet with not much need for weapons, or a large army.

  “Why, the mace is the main weapon of my troop. They do so much love to wager in battle on the hand-to-hand scenario. It’s all that’s required for the keeping of peace. It acts as a deterrent as well, for obvious reasons. Its appearance cannot be overlooked.”

  Mimbar placed his fork down upon the table’s surface and reached for a glass of wine. “You’ll find that no man, not on any of the planets in Quadrant Three, possess the ability to kill from a distance. No laser guns or pistols – or whatever you call them – exist around here you know. No, little occurs around here. Sometimes it may be required to send away some men to sort out a small problem; not often.”

  John’s eyes struck those of the Queen, king, and Mimbar in succession. “I have with me some very powerful weapons indeed. My cargo bays are under strict guard at this very moment. I would like to hand them over to your army, for use in the future. My men will teach yours their ways. They are simple weapons but very deadly.” The King’s stare was met. “You must understand, my lord, that the Vertons are a vicious breed, and will stop at nothing. They’ll of course approach in peace, to try and negotiate with you at first.” He reached for his glass. “A very nice wine indeed, my lord.”

  “Thank you. The best from our cellars.”

  “Yes. They’ll try and insist that they come in peace as they talk directly to you in person, and their army outside of these walls will be raping your women and devouring your planet of all things. All they would bargain for is your undivided help in rallying, organising, and preparing the men from the other planets of your quadrant, to do their fighting for them. They’ll give them weapons of great destruction.”

  “But is that not what you do, Mr Younge?” Mimbar questioned.

  “Not at all. We give these weapons to your army, not to your tribes to use in their mercenary formations for widespread destruction. The weapons I give are for defence, to be employed by men who would not dream – according to you – of defying the crown. If the Vertons didn’t receive the help they required, then you would meet the villain in his true colours.
You would never survive such genocide. You have already seen my reports and yet you’re still not convinced?”

  The King said: “We are convinced that the reports are true but find it hard to figure our response to such.”

  “Husband.” The Queen’s control over the mind of the King had always been known. She’d very seldom been refused a comment in any matter, and usually got her way. Her light smile was hypnotic and the King’s apparent love for her overwhelming. “I have listened to Mimbar and Mr Younge’s comments.” Her eyes met with John’s, glistening in the rays of the chandelier’s exquisiteness as she spoke. “You will have whatever you require, Mr Younge. Neither my husband, nor Mimbar, will interfere with any progress that may be made against these backbreaking vermin. You will be given whatever you ask for; and Mimbar,” a stare and squint of the eye was authority enough, “will aid you to the fullest. It’s hard enough to control our people. They do so much love to take a hand in their mercenary type perils. It’s the jewels and diamonds that they receive from the smaller governing powers in each of the planet’s societies, that guide their greed, and not moral sanctions that forge the heart.

  “We’re a truly poor quadrant, but live in the best way that we could ever dream. If we could run our parliament in a way so as to prevent our peoples’ rotten habits, then we would. We do try, and no blame will ever go to parliament. As you are aware, Mr Younge, Mimbar’s retreat, so hastily from Basbi Triad, was due to some trouble on planet Stia. Peace talks over the past week have just begun to take effect. Their rebellious actions are only troubled by tribal discontent. We nearly have it under control.”

  “But your Majesty; I have three other platoons, one of each which have been sent to the other planets of your quadrant. I knew of Mimbar’s return, but was unaware as to the exact reasons.”

  “I pray for their safety. To contact them would be impossible. We have no interplanetary communication; only weekly reports; which can sometimes be brought in at five-day intervals.”

  “Excuse me please.” John stood and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I must go at once, to inform one of my men to take flight into an orbit around your planet – in the hope of contacting them from the bridge on the spectre’.”

  All stood in response. “You are excused, Mr Younge.” The Queen acknowledged his fear. “Mimbar will escort you whilst the King and I speak privately.”

  “Thank you.” He left quickly with Mimbar close at his heels, praying for the safety of his men.

  PLANET STIA.

  PLANET SURFACE

  The lush green jungle lay thick around the small palace and Julius Moda’s platoon had been deployed. A small group had been sent through the doors in search of Planet Stia’s leader, Tam-Bie Tar. ‘No one to be seen, how strange.’ Julius turned on hearing his second in command approach from the building, its walls decaying and covered in a carpet of vines – an escort of five followed close behind. “Find anything, George?”

  “Nothing, sir. Completely deserted.” George waved his men to take their positions along the perimeter, the edge of the jungle. “There’s evidence of a fight, no blood or anything else though, just a lot of mess. I was wondering whether or not we were at the right place.”

  “This is the right place.” On that a chanting broke out from within the dark of the jungle’s foliage. “What the hell is that?”

  A man came running in from his sentry position fifty metres outside of the perimeter of men. “Stand to, they’re coming, hundreds of them!”

  George yelled out: “Watch your fronts! Go to action on all weapons! Report all sightings!” With that the first human wave of macebearers came screaming into view of the now shocked soldiers.

  A mace was swung around heavily, and the long protruding metal spike struck its target, embedding itself into the soft skull of one of the platoon members, a young man with only two months experience. No scream came from his mouth, just jets of spurting blood that sprayed out, covering his screaming and chanting assailant. The mercenary kicked hard at the chest of the young soldier, at the same time pulling the mace free from the skull of the dead man. He then searched rapidly in a continuous swinging motion for the chest of another. The body quivered in response to the spikes which penetrated deep into the heart, the wide-eyed soldier falling to the bloodstained floor of the jungle’s perimeter, still jerking with spasms and twitching before the stillness of death took hold. A sudden response of red laser flashes struck the macebearer, tearing open his chest, his intestines being swept out of the exit wound and over the macebearer directly behind him, his war face twisting in anger, hungry for the blood of these intruders of unknown origin.

  The macebearers made short work of the left flank before the remainder of John’s perimeter could react accordingly. The right side of his ragged formation turned and blazed away into the new killing area, their own perimeter, and bodies from both sides fell quickly.

  A few fast thinking macebearers dropped to the ground and picked up a few of the laser rifles, the operation of such a weapon even simple enough for these creatures to master in seconds. A few of the older members of the assailing force had had experience with the weapon before, during prior recruitments into smaller conflicts, especially the war ten years earlier, before their world and quadrant was devastated by the Vertons, turning it into a Third World by Earth’s standards.

  The first wave of macebearers had now been halted but the second was only metres behind these, screaming out their war cry as they closed in. Supported by the advantage of laser fire, they commenced to close the ground between themselves and the enemy intruders.

  “George! Take the line on the right! Get them up into extended line!” Julius reacted to the orders. “Pull back on the left and watch for an enemy envelope around to the flank! He ran back into the safety of the nearby secure line. A few of his men on the left flank being unable to pull back fast enough.

  Another soldier fell, his arms out-reaching for the sky as a mace came crashing down into his spinal column, the cracking of the bone quenching the macebearers fury and hunger for blood. The macebearer in return was soon blasted and his head fell apart, his ears falling to hang at his shoulders’ side, held on by thin strips of flesh and skin. His brains landed upon the leaves around and the collapsing body fell with the mace dropping to rest beside the now limp shell of flesh.

  Only twelve soldiers remained as the second wave made its approach and was luckily brought to a dead stop by some heavily concentrated bursts of laser fire. The perimeter had shrunk dramatically.

  Two laser rifles captured preceded to fire from within the depths of the jungle, just missing the soldiers by a hair’s width.

  Their line of defence had changed somewhat and was now extended to face the macebearer’s suggested line of approach, the palace and spectre sitting just over to their left, too far away to make a run for. “Gunner! Silence that damn animal!” A sudden concentration of rapid fire brought one of the macebearer’s shooting to an end.

  Another war cry was heard and the shadows of the third wave could be seen running in the jungle depths; they were sorting themselves out so that the captured lasers were spread evenly throughout the line of assault. The soldiers commenced a controlled retaliation as scattered beams of light were fired in the direction of likely enemy positions, but only a few death screams were heard. Both flanks were at this stage quiet. ‘The animals have failed to completely envelop the position, surely.’

  But the detesting creatures were an intelligent species, and just as a thought to cover the unprotected rear of the line came to Julius, a horde of fifty macebearers were seen hurdling over the vines, closing in for the final contact.

  Mace after mace quickly found its target until the last of the soldiers lay in a pool of his own blood. One eighteen year old lay dead over a boulder, with the spikes of a mace entering through the rear of his head and protruding out of both eye sockets and cheeks.

  “Death to the intruders; aaarrrggh!” The mercenaries-for-hire
grabbed what they could and departed; not one laser rifle left behind; not even those damaged beyond repair.

  PLANET BASBI TRIAD.

  SPACE.

  Pasnadinko sat with a listening stare as the communicator pulled the message from the computer console aboard the Ziggurat. “Muamsimpa is still with the main force; with Muutampai, sir. He says that a Jools de Cane from planet Earth is with him. There is to be a major assault on Nicaragua tomorrow morning.”

  “Does our scientist-spy-friend give any indication as to how the assault will be furnished, or how they intend to penetrate the sphere?”

  “No, sir. He has little information. He has given the message a code Bravo. He suspects that too much intervening and many questions will alert De Cane and Muutampai as to his presence. It appears that no one at this stage suspects that he is a spy.”

  “That would be hard to suspect considering how little he tries. He’s been in their ranks for a good many years, and getting quite lazy. He’s being far too cautious. Remind me when it comes time to launch our assault, that his name should head the list for assassination with prejudice, only second to Muutampai’s.”

  Pasnadinko flicked a switch on the arm of his seat. “Cargo bay.”

  “Here, sir.”

  “How many one man pods do we have remaining?”

  “Three, sir.”

  “Good. Prepare one for immediate flight.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Pasnadinko turned to one of his officers. “Lieutenant Brab.”

  “Sir.”

  “Have one of my personal messengers report to the cargo bay. He is to fly immediately and report to El Pasadora the information we have just received about the assault upon his defences tomorrow. Inform the messenger that he’s to tell him that I’m going to meet with the equerry Muat Shrinpooh, at his palace. I’ll remain on the Darkside and ready the forces there. Have you any questions, Lieutenant?” A message passed by hand was by far more secure than one delivered by ordinary transmission.