MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  “My apologies.”

  “Not at all. Now your question, Doug.” Doug nodded in thankful acceptance that his name hadn’t been removed fully from all society. “I am and am not. But what is your interest in the planet?”

  “Galactic peace can only be gained through your planet’s resources.”

  “You have more resources than— oh; the resource of robots. The only thing that maintains law and order, the only thing that prevents fun and laughter from flooding the planet. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m simply saying, Nakatumi, that your planet needs to be persuaded by someone, to see the; excuse my figure of speech; the light.”

  “How do you propose to force such a play?”

  “Let me firstly say that we need the robots to act as a Mildratawa force, to control galactic peace, and the Mildratawa itself, of course.”

  “And to answer the question?”

  “Why; I thought that was obvious. You, Nakatumi, with your galactic experiences, are going to go to Irshstup, to become leader of that planet.”

  EARTH’S MOON.

  SURFACE.

  It was now the year 2395.

  The prison ship G-27 flew graciously above the surface of the Earth’s moon, searching endlessly for escaped Vertons and other beings. A beeping – flashing – light came suddenly to life on the console.

  The two pilots looked immediately to the scanners. “It’s not a Verton. It reads metallic,” said Malon.

  Lanoi pointed out towards the object. “There. What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned the flight stick and the G-27 tuned to head in that direction. “Let’s see.”

  The ship came in low and dropped to the lunar surface. Both Alza Ningh’s occupied themselves with various scanners before deciding on a closer investigation. All at this stage appeared safe.

  They dressed each other in spacesuits and stepped from their vessel. Slowly they moved closer, Malon leading the way. “It looks like the wreck of a ship or something. There!” He leapt over the ten-metre gap in two bounds. “I’ve found a body.”

  “Is it a Verton?”

  “No.” He stared out towards Lanoi as he came gliding in. “He’s dressed in robes; like a, a monk.”

  “A what?”

  “Look.”

  He peered down. “Yeah, well. A dead monk. What do you think we should do?”

  “We’ll get a salvage team in to clean up the mess and try to work out what happened.”

  “Why bother?”

  “Because there is a dead man here.”

  “Hah. Let him rest in peace. At least the worms won’t get him.”

  “What about all this stuff. Look. There’s some boxes over there, and—”

  “Forget it. We’ve work to do.”

  “I’ll have to report this when we get back.”

  “You do that.”

  They departed as soon as they had arrived, to continue their search for Vertons, and not another word was said.

  The chief warden for the prison on the moon’s surface stared out from the small periscopic porthole towards earth, confident in the knowledge that his men were hard at work rounding up escaped Vertons. He played with his fingers that interlocked behind his back, pulling one then scratching another, his mind in deep thought. But the antics of the day were not what worried him, they were not at present playing on his peaceful mind. It was the Earth, almost 400,000 kilometres away, which had his attention at present. Its brilliant colours were estranged to that which he was used to; a shimmering red, orange, and pinks appeared to transparently shroud the entire surface. He couldn’t help but to wonder if it would ever be returned to its normal state of existence, or whether man would walk upon its surface again, without the aid of a bodysuit. And the innocent creatures of the earth also came to mind, those innocent reptiles, insects, mammals; all manner of life which had endured that which man had given out so freely; destruction.

  His attention was suddenly brought back to reality as his secretary came in through the door to his office, but he knew he was quite safe.

  All entrance to the administration wing had been sealed off, and as this particular wing rest beneath the surface of the moon, little worry was entered into. He took the held out message from his secretary’s nimble fingers, a drained-of-life smile, which would elude those whom didn’t know him better, a smile of false pretences and security, which was barely recognisable.

  Magnore, his secretary, was Negabban, and couldn’t help but notice that even in these trying times that the warden had opened the only escape to the outside system of planets. She stepped over to the control panel and switched the periscope off, the view of the earth disappearing upwards, a sheet of black outer shielding lifting to drown the scene.

  “You know full well, warden. If they see the scope up, they’ll try and launch an electro-photon down its length. Why do you endanger yourself in this way?”

  The warden looked at her. “You have no scar tissue over your wrists so you are bred with another being from another planet; you speak with a good earth accent as well. Surely these must have been hard to live with, especially on Negabba. To be ridiculed time and time again about your looks and strong accent.” He returned his eye to the message, intending to answer her question with time.

  “I lived.”

  The warden screwed the paper up and threw it towards the farthest corner. “Another dozen guards killed. Those goddamn Vertons and macebearers, not to mention the Nicaraguans, have overrun this entire area. I don’t know who’s worse.” He sat heavily, relieving some of the anxiety upon his shoulders.

  The maximum-security prison had erupted in violence and a good one fifth of the 100,000 captives were at present roaming the surface of the moon; in small groups, placing out beacons as directed by Newtwon. Once aboard a battle cruiser, the plans to the largest jail of all mankind, could be entered into the ships computers; this was the warden’s worst fear at present; and then, a mass exodus from the moon’s surface would be undertaken; this was the escapee’s mission. But the prison’s automatic defences had to be avoided.

  The warden knew full well that little time existed. “You can’t really blame them for their hideous, torturous ways. If I could imagine how you felt, being different from everyone else, finding it hard to fit in, to be able to do whatever you wanted to do. These scum have feelings as well; but only of evil; unfortunately.” Would that satisfy her question, was there any irony behind what he had said, did it make sense or was he simply speaking in a garbled tongue. Would the prisoners of the moon be better off dead; was there anything else to live for.

  “Don’t worry yourself, sir. The guards are doing a good job at maintaining what order they can.”

  “They’re being killed off. I have less than 8,000 guards, less than one in twelve compared to the prisoners that at present exist. And something big is coming down, I feel it.”

  “Little information has been diagnosed as yet, Warden.” Magnore offered another note. “This also has just arrived.”

  He read it with a stern stare and little else, screwing it up and throwing it towards a hole in the wall, a magnetically sealed chamber which opened automatically, the rubbish disappearing from view; the information would have been recorded on computer in any case. “Some gibberish about a man in monks clothing— ah.”

  “Sit down, Warden, please.” A chair was promptly pulled from behind the desk as his laughter died away.

  “Do you realise Magnore, that this place— no; this life becomes more estranged every day.” He looked her in the eye. “What am I doing here, wasting my pitiful life for no more than a few extra credits on my expense account and the prospect of living anywhere in the galaxy that I choose, and in a custom built home; free of charge mind you. All I have to do is sit in this office for thirty odd years.”

  Magnore ushered he sit. “You just rest awhile Warden, while I get you a drink.” She turned towards the door and it bust open, three scruffy looking pri
soners took aim and violently shot Magnore and the Warden dead, their bodies falling to the floor in growing pools of yellow-green, and scarlet red blood.

  PLANET SIEST.

  SPACE.

  Newtwon’s plan of attack and rescue was a success, and whilst his move against the prison of the moon was undertaken, others were ventured.

  Newtwon had studied his adversaries well and had decided that if it were true, and Siest was indeed a dormant planet, then he would be better off to try his luck at some form of scavenging. He knew full well that he couldn’t remain hidden in the Dead Zone near Quadrant Two forever.

  For reasons unknown to the empyrean, he also changed his plans slightly, he himself deciding not to venture to Siest.

  The battle cruiser was under the command of Empyrean Muetvit and was just coming out of parsec at a computerised distance of less than 10,000 kilometres. As it hit what was considered as the space boundary of Siest, shortly after exiting parsec, a mysterious phenomenon came face to face with the entire crew of Muetvit’s battle cruiser.

  An unbelievable alteration had occurred. A planet apparently void of life had suddenly sprung a blockade of a single ship – which now sat directly to their front. On visualisation and monitor recognition of it being present, all of the battle cruiser’s computers went dead. Parsec was impossible. At this same instant a cloud of white vapour commenced a rapid growth around Muetvit’s ship itself, a steady flow of billowing puffs of the whitest of whites.

  The two ships remained motionless. The gigantic battle cruiser dwarfed the ship from Siest out of all possible proportion. The tiny Siest vessel remained silent, not even bothering to monitor the intruder. The violation of their planet’s atmosphere was under direct threat, all living-breathing mammals, and all species of intelligent life – the Legion Millennium had come to conquer. The pendulum swing had to be stopped.

  It was now that they would regret their untimely intrusion.

  Verton aboard the cruiser fell to their knees one after the other, clutching their ears as tightly as possible, a high pitching sound wringing memories of all knowledge from existence. From here their souls could either be reborn or live out eternity in the causal dimension; which was quite absurd for a Verton; only a minute proportion ever achieved the highest realm of awareness towards the inner self and an understanding of everlasting peace.

  Within the space of a few minutes the entire crew had been removed from existence and an ominous cloud, which in time wafted and dispersed into nothing, had devoured the battle cruiser.

  Muetvit’s last wish was that Newtwon had stood by his decision to journey with him.

  PLANET NOUGSTIA.

  PLANET SURFACE.

  Nougstia still maintained a high number of violators whom remained imprisoned in a well-guarded fortress.

  The four planets to Quadrant Three had only just started to enjoy the rewards of wealth which had been discovered through planet unity and natural resources, each of which were so natural that it was preposterous. Many thought that Doug himself was directly responsible for their new way of life. But no single thing, so great, could possibly be governed by one.

  Scientific and mathematical breakthroughs were discovered at neck-breaking speed – so thick and fast were their discovery. Exports and imports had been bargained for in such a way that Quadrant Three was seen to come out on top of each and every bargain. Queen Asti simply held too many trumps, four to be exact, and each of the four planets worked their wonders as fast as any of the others.

  Only one thing worried Queen Asti at present. Where were the four battle cruisers belonging to Newtwon? These could only exist in one place, and that was in the Dead Zone; surely.

  It was on one quiet morning that Doug took understudy of his wife and cared for his son. Although this opportunity came seldom, due to work commitments, he believed that they understood each other better than what they could have done if they’d been able to see each other on a day-to-day basis.

  If he saw less of his son, then his son would see less of him. How to increase the father-son relationship? His son was a bright boy and as all were aware in these times, something unexplainable was always passed on from one generation to the next.

  His son came to stand before him one afternoon and had told his father that he meditated a thought and saw strange things. “And I don’t know what it was Father, but it was huge, ugly, and metallic.” He was intelligent for his age but not all that apt to convey his foresight into a text bequeathed that of a genius.

  “Can you draw a picture of it, John? Or would you like your father to see it for himself?”

  “You can look if you want to, I don’t mind.” The boy leant closer and whispered. “But we’d be best not to tell Mother,” and pulled away, looking full face at his father again. “She may become angered.”

  “Does she know that we play games at night?” The boy laughed and shook his head. “Well we won’t tell her. Now you go and lay yourself down in your bedroom and I’ll go into the study, then you see if you can’t find my conscience before I find yours, okay.”

  “Okay.” He took off for the small extension that had been added to the palace and within minutes was lying on his bed with the lights out. Doug by this stage was seated in his favourite chair in the relaxation chamber next to the dining hall. All was quiet and the game was ready.

  The distance between each offered no challenge. John left his mind and body, his spirit searching to find his father, to tell him what he’d seen, to show him firsthand what it looked like.

  It took little time. Both smiled at each other and Doug entered his son’s unprotected body whilst his son’s guardian watched over the process. His guardian was a long dead relative who offered encouragement during times of out-of-body experience and kept his body protected from evil encounters, a mythical phenomenon that only few believed.

  Although John wanted to show his father what he had seen, Doug wanted to journey beyond that knowledge to find more of the same, to outwit his son. The game had gone further than the usual limitations. He found what he was looking for. The transformation lasted but a few seconds. John was running back to his father in the study.

  “I wanted to tell you myself, in my own way, even if I couldn’t share all. You cheated. Why did you do that?”

  “I needed to see, John, to see what else you knew. You know a lot more than you realise.”

  He was happy with himself now that he had received a compliment and he just stood there and nodded with feelings of satisfaction enveloping him.

  Doug had more than enough to go on now. He found it difficult to come to terms with his sons growing knowledge of all things, in particular those things that Brother Anthony had revealed unto him almost 18 months before, things that John wasn’t within earshot to hear.

  The vital information was given to Tiny Ballow and he in turn prepared an ambush for the lone battle cruiser, which had all intentions of entering Nougstia’s space boundary and attempting the mass escape of near-on 100,000 prisoners. The capture was mainly a simple task as John’s foresight into the incursions had suggested that the Empyrean Daisilani and his Partisan Austere were to deploy all available space ships for a close quarters encounter and planned escape by mass surprise and force.

  It was here, near the planet’s surface, above the jungles of Nougstia, that Tiny had cast his net of surprise, his voice of reasoning reaching all Vertons’ ears, over all frequencies. Only those that failed to abide by the issues of surrender were blown from the skies by a large scale M.S.Boumutah.

  The only question now was what to do with the captured Austere of Legion old.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PLANET EARTH.

  SPACE.

  The last account of Newtwon’s infringements upon the Mildratawa was the account against Earth. Now Empyrean Bouham and Lord Newtwon looked out over the bridge of the battle cruiser as it made approach towards Earth. All of the ship’s monitors were at present scanning the boundaries of space and
the surface of the planet.

  Ever since the earth had lost the security of its spacelabs, it had been left alone, to be monitored by deep space vessels that were unmanned and only passed within sight of Earth on occasion. For more purposes than seemed appropriate, a few ground-mounted stations had been established. The domes of these stations were not detectable from any monitor in existence, except a small device that had been constructed by Quadrant Three’s scientists.

  The sole purpose of these stations was to monitor the earth’s changing atmosphere, a computerised study of the planet itself. Many believed that the atmosphere would change for the better, but as yet it hadn’t stabilised.

  Each major continent above the earth’s crust housed one of these stations.

  The purpose of visiting Earth was for fuels and food. If Newtwon’s plan was to work then he needed to be able to feed his forces as well as fit them with weapons that could be powered by some type of ore.

  In the case where Doug’s son had given insight into Newtwon’s plans, Quadrant One was simply too far for him to develop a clear insight as to future events. His willing consciousness was not quite apt to work over such an overwhelming distance.

  A perpetual line of ships glimmered in the sun’s rays like a fine thin thread from the battle cruiser down to the surface of the planet Earth, it, once again, falling victim to a scavenger of the galaxy. The line moved effortlessly, down to the surface and then back up again: Go down empty; come up full.

  Newtwon ensured that he stayed on board. He was about to marry up with Vetty and El Pasadora. He had received their transmissions, one of his own reconnaissance ships collating the information and delivering it to him personally.

  Vetty would be here soon, and although he found that he had little time for Vetty, he knew that they had to rid his mind of him once and for all; Empyrean Bouham who stood beside Newtwon was also to aid in Vetty’s downfall.