In Search of the Alter Dom

by Jack Challis

  Blodwyn’s relief was short lived. She suddenly sneezed – the sounds of feeding stopped – then deadly silence again! Her heart pounded like a base drum; she could have screamed with the tension of waiting. Then sounds of splintering bone again – the Tamasic had resumed feeding.

  The rushing blood coursing through Blodwyn’s veins steadied: she offered up a silent prayer. She realized the Tamasic was also deaf, as well as blind. She remained perfectly still for the next hour, while the transparent horror below fed on the dead Saber-tooth cat.

  Blodwyn was not taking any chances even though her nose itched; and by far the worst ordeal, a large hairy spider with shiny eyes, crawled over her chest. She could feel the hooks on the spider’s legs scratching her skin! At last the Tamasic stopped feeding on the carcass of the vanquished Saber-tooth – then deadly silence again. Blodwyn’s spectacles cleared. She looked up – and to her absolute horror, found herself looking into the staring opaque eyes of the Tamasic – only two feet away. It was looking straight at her! She held her breath again.

  Blodwyn was paralyzed with fear – and could only stare back. Was the Tamasic not completely blind – just shortsighted – had she been spotted?

  She felt herself about to pass out from the strain and tension of the situation. Till Blodwyn realized the Tamasic was now just standing upright; cleaning its manables of blood and flesh, just like a preying Mantis after a meal. Just as Blodwyn’s lungs could take no more – the Tamasic moved away! She was not going to take any chances, and remained perfectly still. “Thank God the large spider had also gone.”

  The lightning had stopped, leaving the night pitch black: but the rain grew heavier. Blodwyn modified her shelter and arranged a loop of creepers like a hammock, and began to tie herself in more securely. Protected by the tree’s thick canopy and her waterproof sleeping bag, she fell into exhausted but dry and cozy dreamless sleep.

  Birdsong awoke Blodwyn next morning. She felt refreshed and relieved – her night’s ordeal behind her. She ate another pork pie for breakfast and surveyed her surroundings.

  The forest was beautiful, flowers draped and fruit-baring trees grew in abundance. The green canopy was also splashed with colourful birds: not a single tree or bird was recognizable. Blodwyn slowly climbed down, first making sure the coast was clear.

  The undergrowth had been flattened by the battle. Of the Saber-tooth, not much remained – just a few splinters of bone and scraps of tawny fur. But the Tamasic did not escape injury – a transparent crab-like pincered arm lay on the ground. It made her jump as it opened and closed for the last time. Blodwyn picked up one of the big cat’s saber-fangs discarded by the Tamasic; she was surprised – instead of being round it was flat like a double bladed knife, and sharp. She could use it when cutting a new staff, which she now desperately needed. Blodwyn rejoined the game trail, hoping the Lings would find her soon using their keen noses. She then noticed some fruiting trees just off the game trail; beneath which, small red striped antelope were feeding on fallen fruit. Approaching quietly she was delighted the small deer did not flee at her approach – their presence reassured her. The antelopes’ keen eyesight and sense of smell would warn her of danger.

  Plucking a fruit she took a small bite – delicious. But she knew that not everything animals ate, was safe for humans. While she waited for a reaction, Blodwyn cut herself a new stout staff using the saber tooth. The fruit was safe: she began to fill her bag.

  Suddenly, the many small antelope dashed away! Blodwyn knew something had frightened them – and that something was behind her! With beating heart Blodwyn turned around slowly. A group of at least ten figures were standing still on the game trail – regarding her. Blodwyn’s heart nearly stopped – she knew who they were – Aliens!!

  All except one of the figures was dressed in black robes and headdress. A veil covered their jutting jaws, exposing only a pair of yellow cat eyes – with pin-prick pupils – the feline Na Idriss! Blodwyn found the unblinking stare of the feline Aliens unnerving – it contained malicious intent – like those of a dangerous big cat! One of the Na Idriss, the one following her scent trail, was still walking on all fours. His short legs and long body made this mode of travel easy.

  The Na Idriss began sniffing in her direction; like a nasty dog does when sizing up an approaching stranger. The single Malis Afar Cold-blood was even scarier. He was a head taller than the rest, wore a red uniform and boots. His pallid complexion and the palest of eyes were striking.

  To Blodwyn’s horror, as the figures closed in on her, she saw the Cold-blood, Malis Afar had the vertical narrow reptilian pupils that one sees on crocodiles: two holes sufficed as ears; just like those of lizards. The Cold-blood’s thin lips struggled to cover long pointed teeth. She could also make out the faint outline of scales, beneath the pallid skin of the Malis Afar. The Na Idriss began sniffing Blodwyn like bloodhounds. All were armed with sophisticated looking weapons, but still carried long-handled samurai swords on their backs.

  Blodwyn was trapped. “No point in an ungainly flight,” she decided, there were just too many of them. Plus more importantly, she would lose her dignity! She was determined not to show fear – even though her tummy fluttered with dread – and she adopted her best aloof manner. A distinct smell of tomcat reached Blodwyn’s sensitive nostrils. A black-veiled Na Idriss spoke first, in a gruff tone.

  ‘I am captain Timasek of the Na Idriss – this is Commander Karak, a Malis Afar. Drop your weapon – remain still – you are now our prisoner. If you are a Changeling, do not think of changing into some fierce creature, or we will use our proton lasers.’

  Blodwyn put on her most puzzled face – her: “I don’t understand,” look.

  ‘This is not a weapon – it’s a stick and I have no intention of running, or turning into a dangerous creature.’

  ‘Keep your stick,’ says the Cold-blood, in a colder voice, ‘you will not be harmed – don’t be afraid.’

  ‘I am not afraid!’ lies Blodwyn.

  ‘Are you Queen Angharad?’ the Malis Afar Cold-blood asks: still unsure.

  ‘No,’ replies Blodwyn, ‘my name is Blodwyn Jones, but I am under the protection of Grunwalde Angharad!’

  ‘You fit her description,’ says the Malis Afar.

  ‘Those lying female Harpies,’ swears Captain Timasek, ‘I have a good mind to….’ The Na Idriss is stopped by a slight gesture of the Malis Afar’s hand.

  The whole thing suddenly made sense to Blodwyn now – Grunwalde had used her as a decoy – the Queen of Lings had set her up! “Just you wait Myfanwy Jenkins!” thought Blodwyn.

  Blodwyn was now aware it was Grunwalde they were really after.

  ‘Is the lovely Queen of Lings on Tarrea?’ the Cold-blood asks.

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ answers Blodwyn, ‘– I just know she is a lying cow!’

  ‘A cow – Grunwalde is posing as a cow, Sir,’ says Capt Timasek.

  ‘Don’t be a fool Timasek!’ the Cold-Blood snaps.

  ‘Where is your rendezvous with the two Lings?’ barks Captain Timasek, trying to redeem himself.

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Blodwyn replies, striking her most indignant pose.

  ‘You lie!’ growls Captain Timasek.

  Blodwyn put on her best pout: hands on hips, but without protruding bottom lip, unlike Grunwalde. ‘No – I am not lying,’ she replies.

  ‘Enough!’ the Malis Afar orders; he then whispers something into Captain Timasek’s ear. Blodwyn’s fine-tuned hearing homed in – she could normally hear a whispered secret or juicy bit of gossip at five paces.

  ‘That’s not the way with Terasils, Captain,’ advises the Cold-blood Malis Afar. ‘They can be stubborn – our race once kept them as a pets when we lived on Earth – kindness is the key – they are gullible – leave this to me.’

  ‘Sir,’ interrupts Lt Sanger, a Na Idriss, ‘our battleship has picked up a Galla Quall Typhon War Hawk battleship – two thousand miles and closing!’ Captain T
imasek looks at the Malis Afar for orders.

  ‘Signal our battleship to de-cloak – leave orbit – collect the items I have ordered from the Jal-Mar, return tomorrow,’ says the Cold-blood. ‘Gentlemen we will hide in the cave – until the Galla Quall warship leaves.’

  Blodwyn was delighted. The delay would give the two Lings time to find and rescue her. She also decided the Malis Afar Karak, their leader, seemed the only one influenced by her Am-dram play-acting. She was sure she could influence him – maybe even squeeze out a tear or two at the right time, to gain his sympathy.

  The Na Idriss were another matter; there was something sinister about them, their sniffing and their unblinking stare.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Prisoner of the Malis Afar and Na Idriss

  When Earth lay adrift in the prehistoric mists of distant time: Amid lava

  flow and basalt spume. A Cold-blood rose from viscous slime!

  The group began their journey to the cave. Blodwyn walked in front of Karak the Cold-blood. A Na Idriss scout led the way moving on all fours; his shoulders rising and falling like any big cat. Blodwyn could now clearly see the Na Idriss’s feline proportions: long bodies and short legs. The scout stopped every now and again to sniff a leaf or the grass at the side of the trail. Suddenly the scout froze mid-stride.

  ‘Look Sir!’ the scout growls. Captain Timasek and the Cold-blood examine a long unshod clawed footprint on the track. ‘What being left the footprint?’ the Malis Afar Cold-blood asks.

  ‘Serpentils!’ the scout answers. ‘The tracks are about an hour old.’ ‘Serpentils!’ repeats Captain Timasek with alarm – all the Na Idriss look around nervously; drawing their swords.

  To Blodwyn’s horror, she notices all the Na Idriss had fully exposed their retractable claws that looked as long and sharp as any tigers. She knew that once in their grip, there was no escape.

  ‘Who are the Serpentils?’ asks Karak the Cold-blood calmly, not bothering to draw his fine blade.

  ‘A new reptilian species – appearing in the Antares Cluster, Sir. Naked black, flat snake-heads with prehensile tails. They are venomous primitives who swallow their meat whole!’ Captain Timasek replies with disgust.

  ‘You mean venomous like the Lings?’ the Malis Afar asks with interest.

  ‘The Serpentils have haematoxin? snake venom.’

  ‘And Serpentils also stink,’ another Na Idriss warrior adds.

  ‘Where are this new species from?’ Karak asks.

  ‘We think Serpentils are using the new Lupus-three Wormhole to enter the Antares Cluster from Stellar space. We have met them before once in battle – they are formidable lightning-quick warriors.’

  ‘You fear unshod primitives?’ asks Karak, surprised.

  ‘Serpentils are Cold-bloods – like the Malis Afar,’ answers Captain Timasek. ‘Their speed with the sword cannot be matched. Their shiny scales act as Amour. The last time we met – they killed seven of our warriors – we only killed one Serpentil with a laser.’

  ‘What!’ Karak the Cold-blood exclaims, ‘you broke the warrior’s code – “blade against blade.’

  ‘We had no choice,’ Captain Timasek replies.

  ‘Did your scientist study the Serpentil’s corpse?’ Karak asks coldly.

  ‘Yes,’ answers the Captain, ‘they have only a single heart and a single lung, just like snakes.’

  ‘Where is their single primitive heart situated?’ Karak asks.

  ‘Below their neck sir – best reached under the arm where their scale amour is weak,’ replies Captain Timasek.

  ‘And their flesh is not suitable for eating!’ Lt Sanger adds.

  Karak the Malis Afar gives the Lieutenant an angry glare for divulging this information in Blodwyn’s presence. Blodwyn now had confirmation – the Na Idriss were carnivores. ‘Who is their leader?’ Karak asks. ‘A Mar-lissa is their Empress!’ Captain Timasek replies.

  ‘A Mar-lissa!’ repeats Karak surprised. ‘A higher being ruling unshod primitives – it doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Sir,’ calls out the Na Idriss scout urgently, ‘the storm is building and the temperature’s falling – we must reach the cave before the lightning and the rain!’ The group moves on.

  Inside the cave Blodwyn keeps close to Commander Karak. The longer she knew the Na Idriss, the more she feared them. Karak placed his warm black cloak over Blodwyn’s shoulders, when the cold cave made her shiver. The cloak had some kind of heating device in it.

  ‘The nights on Tarrea are not only dangerous, but cold’ says Karak. Blodwyn knew the Malis Afar was trying to manipulate her with kindness; she was also astute in the art of manipulation – the alien was not aware of her acting skills. This was the perfect opportunity to use these skills to the full. She would go through her full repertoire of facial expressions. All those hours practicing before a mirror, now had to pay off: her life depended on it. Blodwyn decided to adopt the naïve, gullible, little girl lost persona, to bring out the father instinct in the cold-blooded Malis Afar. Little did she know there was no such thing as a father on the home planet of the Malis Afar, Afar Major, in the distant Aquilla Triangle!

  The Na Idriss milled around the cave uneasily as the storm approached – their cat-like hate of getting wet ran deep. Lt Sangar holds up a skin. ‘Our national drink – Tarrish,’ he announces proudly, holding it under Blodwyn’s nose. ‘It smells disgusting,’ says Blodwyn, ‘what is it?’

  ‘Blood with alcohol anti-coagulant,’ replies Lt Sanger with enthusiasm. ‘Yuk sounds revolting,’ exclaims Blodwyn, ‘I would be instantly sick.’ Then, with curiosity, ‘Whose blood is it anyway?’

  ‘Blood is blood,’ replies Lt Sanger, ‘it’s all delicious.’ (Then getting carried away,) ‘But I must admit my favourite is….’

  ‘That will do Lieutenant,’ orders Karak – cutting the Na Idriss short.

  ‘Would you care to try some, Commander?’ the Lieutenant asks.

  ‘Alcohol does not suit the cold-blood of the Malis Afar,’ answers Karak. Lt Sanger joins a Na Idriss guard at the cave entrance; they drink Tarrish and whisper together. ‘Lieutenant,’ says the guard, ‘we haven’t eaten for four days. It’s all right for the Commander, he is Malis Afar, a Cold-blood – we are warm-bloods and need to eat often; let’s kill the female Terasil when the Cold-blood is asleep – she smells delicious. Young Terasil flesh is tender,’ continues the guard, ‘and is without fur – no hair balls to irritate my stomach.’

  ‘We have our orders,’ answers Lt Sangar, ‘now tend your duties and forget your stomach. I am going to look around outside before the storm begins.’

  Inside the cave all the Na Idriss huddle in a corner drinking their foul brew, Tarrish. Only Blodwyn and Karak, the Malis Afar, sit by the fire.

  ‘We know you are seeking the Alter Dom,’ announces the Cold-blood, ‘but you are wasting your time.’

  Blodwyn decided not to deny her quest. ‘I am only helping Grunwalde – she tricked me – has the Alter Dom really gone?’ Blodwyn asks with contrived innocence.

  ‘An Event Horizon of a feeding black hole,’ explains the Cold-blood, ‘is the most deadly and destructive force in all the Universes. Once past the Event Horizon there is no escape from its gravity pull and black matter, it swallows spaceships and planets. But once the Black Hole’s hunger is satisfied its mouth closes – there is no return even for a higher being like the Alter Dom.’ Blodwyn pulled her most disappointed face. ‘So the Alter Dom is dead.’

  ‘There can be no other outcome,’ replies the Cold-blood

  ‘Have you ever seen the Alter Dom?’ asks Blodwyn.

  ‘No,’ replies Karak, ‘we, the Malis Afar are not among the privileged few it shows itself to – but we fear its anger.’

  ‘Why do you refer to the Alter Dom as an “It?” Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Because the Alter Dom is not classified as a life form,’ answers the Malis Afar. ‘It is neither male nor female; it appears and disappears at will and constantly changes substance.
It can even destroy a planet with an asteroid bombardment. The advanced races are afraid to antagonize it; some primitives even worship the Alter Dom. Its presence restricts the strong races like the Malis Afar from expanding their empires.’

  ‘Do you think the Alter Dom was a kind of God?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Only the weak believe in a God or Gods. You Terasils spend too much time worrying about Gods – it is because your race has such a short life-span. Shortly after birth you Terasils are worrying about death! We Malis Afar never wasted time building useless monuments like the pyramids or giant cathedrals to a God, instead we concentrated on becoming space travelers; it saved our race.’

  ‘Some powerful being must have created the millions of universes that exist?’ replies Blodwyn. Karak the Cold-blood gave Blodwyn a long look, but did not answer. Blodwyn realized the Cold-blood Malis Afar was not really sure of his convictions.

  ‘You must realize,’ continues the Cold-blood, ‘that the Alter Dom has left a power vacuum – we must fill this vacuum. As you saw today, races from Stellar space, like the Serpentils and the Jed-Bella who have already colonized Aries Major, must be kept in order – stopped from expanding.’

  ‘What will you do when you re-occupy Earth?’ asks Blodwyn.

  ‘First, we have to persuade Grunwalde Angharad to take the Lings to another suitable planet – like Earth but better.’

  ‘Why don’t you just kill the Lings and their lying Queen?’ Blodwyn asks, putting on her most cruel face. ‘The Lings are unfortunately respected by some of the other powerful advanced races – because they are true Changelings –“three hearts.” The Galla Qualls, the Ida Jaade, the mysterious Jinnd, the elusive and dangerous Shi-Larriss, the fish eating Cilla and the Shapeshifting Semmi Tal all respect the Lings,’ answers Karak, ‘they would object to the extinction – killing of the Lings by us. We have to defeat the Galla Qualls and their dogs the egg-laying Ida Jaade. You see, they will object to our occupation of Earth as they admire Terasil culture. Earth was once ours – we just want it back!’