Zein: The Homecoming

by Graham J. Wood

  ‘Tell me about the dream,’ Gemma coaxed, as she patted the side of the bed. He sat down and told her everything. Gemma was a good listener and he wanted to share as much of his dream with her as he could remember.

  ‘That sounds awful,’ said a horrified Gemma, after he described the mountain of bodies littering the underground caverns, ‘how did they die?’

  ‘Well, not all my dreams come true.’ He hesitated, not sure how to put it. ‘They are flashes of what could be or will be and I have a chance to alter them.’

  ‘Those creatures are frightening; maybe it is good that they are destroyed?’ said Gemma, shuddering with the memory of the attack yesterday. Kabel reached across and lightly touched her face with his fingertips. She kissed the end of his fingers when they touched her lips.

  ‘It was strange yesterday, I know they were attacking but it wasn’t out of hate but fear,’ said Kabel, telling her about the swirl of feelings that came from the seven foot creatures, which was also felt by Belina and Tyson.

  Much to her disappointment he stood back up. ‘I am going for a shower,’ he said purposely, ‘we need to find out what’s the plan for today.’ He saw the disappointment on her face and realised that after the shock of yesterday, she was seeking comfort. ‘Of course, there is room for two in the shower,’ he said over his shoulder as he strutted towards the shower cubicle. Gemma wasn’t far behind him.

  Later, suitably refreshed, they went to the Command and Control Centre. Another heated argument between General Corder and Admiral Koshkov was underway.

  ‘We should have had air support faster yesterday,’ said Admiral Koshkov, furious with the hesitancy he had witnessed yesterday and not satisfied by the explanations given. His shock at what he thought was a dereliction of duty, further underlined that the commander of the Expeditionary Force had ulterior motives.

  ‘The convoy had sufficient firepower, Admiral,’ General Corder replied calmly. His second-in-command was just going to retort when Walter Moore interrupted.

  ‘I think our focus should be on what we do next and not on what went wrong,’ he reasoned.

  It was Kabel who stepped forward. He was tired and filled with the horror of the battle the day before. On the way to see General Corder, Kabel had sought out Bailey and the others to tell them details of his dream, minus the element concerning the Pod, and that he thought Tyson was still alive. Both Amelia and Bailey, especially, were relieved but all their concern did not evaporate and wouldn’t until they saw Tyson alive and kicking.

  ‘I need to be debriefed,’ he said to the warring officers. He had their attention. Admiral Koshkov pursed his lips to prevent his anger spiralling out of control but that didn’t mean this argument was over, just postponed. ‘In private,’ Kabel said pointedly.

  They all funnelled into the main conference room for that deck. The only one of the companions not there, apart from Tyson, was the Changeling. Kabel could not find Zebulon anywhere and even though he asked for a broadcast over the ships intercom for him to meet in the Command and Control Centre, he still did not appear. In truth no one had seen him since they had left for their ill-fated trip into Reinan.

  Walter Moore and the latter’s personal assistant, a woman called Grace Connor, whose job was to record the session, made up the remaining members of the meeting.

  Kabel brought the others up-to-date on his dream involving Tyson. Both Walter and Admiral Koshkov where pleased, General Corder less so. Koshkov, glared triumphantly at the American guessing this was not part of his plan. Kabel ignored their reactions and pressed on to cover the sequence of events once they had left the Outer Perimeter. Walter Moore outlined what he and his companions had learned from the hologram programmes in the library. It was Hechkle who began to explain the retreat and the attack of the Pod, when Kabel held up his hand to stop proceedings. Hechkle stopped his report and waited.

  ‘Tyson saw someone before the attack and conveyed that image to me,’ said Kabel, looking across at the team.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Gemma, hurt that he hadn’t mentioned that this morning. Kabel ignored the question and pressed on. Gemma threw a filthy look at him.

  ‘He was youngish and had red armour on which had seen better days,’ he described.

  ‘Malacca clan?’ said Bronstorm.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Did he say anything or do anything?’ General Corder asked, intrigued.

  ‘No, he looked surprised and then they disappeared into a hole in the ground,’ Kabel explained, ‘Tyson was going to follow but then the Pod attacked.’

  ‘So there are Zeinonians alive,’ said Hechkle, ‘we must find them.’

  ‘Agreed Hechkle, but we need to make sure we do not place the expedition at risk,’ said Admiral Koshkov, carefully. Kabel and General Corder agreed.

  Kabel sought Gemma’s attention, not sure whether he should share the rest of his dream with the committee. Gemma initial petulance at Kabel for not telling her about what Tyson had seen had evaporated, intrigued by the discussion and she nodded her head encouragingly.

  ‘I have something else I need to share with you,’ said Kabel, and then outlined key details of his dream. The rest listened in horror when he described the gut wrenching death of thousands of the creatures.

  ‘I have not had this dream,’ Belina challenged. Her dreams had started back on Earth as the magics built up inside her. She saw in Kabel’s shared memory what he had seen but was not sure what the vision meant.

  Kabel lifted his hands in resignation, ‘Sorry, dear sister, but I did as you now know, and I found it disturbing.’

  Bronstorm had been quiet in the exchange and then brought up what they had all felt during the attack. ‘We all felt that the Pod were attacking out of fear and not hatred.’ He waited for Kabel and Belina to support his view.’ They did. ‘Why would they risk such a loss of life out of fear is the question we should be trying to answer.’ Bronstorm stated. ‘Maybe it is this vision which Kabel had. They fear death from an illness?’

  ‘Fair question Bronstorm, but I don’t tend to dwell on why someone or something is trying to kill me when I am protecting my life,’ Hechkle’s gruff voice spoke up. It was reinforced by similar views from both Gemma and Amelia, both of whom had felt immensely frightened yesterday.

  ‘So what are we going to do?’ Walter asked, having listened quietly to the views around the table.

  It was Kabel who suggested a recon party, firstly to search for Tyson, just in case his dream was misleading and then to seek the hole the men, who Tyson had seen, disappear into. They agreed the size and participants of the party required and then ended the meeting.

  As they exited the conference room, the warning klaxon sounded. As one they all rushed into the Command and Control Centre.

  Lieutenant Lavelle, the Communications Officer on the Elanda, had a picture up on the forward screen. It focused on a position near the Outer Perimeter Barrier. Standing there, silently, were a group of people, numbering between forty and fifty. In front of the group was a Zeinonian clad in battered red armour.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ said General Corder, drawing in his cheeks as he bit on his inside cheek, ‘looks like we don’t need to go looking for them.

  Chapter 15: Simple Life

  Cronje was working his homestead in the Eastern Quadrant. He still supported the Inner Council meetings on Earth but had placed his right hand man, Reddash, in charge of the remaining Malacca troops. He was tired of fighting and when Kabel had asked him to be Vice-Chancellor he readily accepted but was also worried as he was not a political animal. If you placed him into a battle, against the odds, no problem; place him in a war of words and he became tongue-tied. Kabel gave him assurance that Lords Fathom and Southgate would cover that and he should be there to provide the necessary advice and support.

  He had met a woman named Marcy, who had two teenage children, a thirteen year old boy called Tredegar, or Tred as Cronje called him, and a fifteen year old g
irl, called Sasha. Marcy’s husband had died in the recent fighting and Cronje had met up with her to make sure she was coping. They both were hurting and hit it off. Marcy was a timid, petite woman whom Cronje immediately felt protective towards. He had moved into this tiny homestead some four months ago and spent his days ploughing the lush field and updating the buildings of the little farm.

  He saw them coming down the road. The two teenage children were with Marcy’s aunt in the nearby city village of Emula and Marcy was in the kitchen cooking the evening meal for just the two of them. He made out the bulky figure of Reddash and ten other soldiers as they sped towards him on their hover bikes.

  Cronje shut off the sophisticated ploughing conveyor and hopped off. He purposely made his way back to the homestead. Reddash would not have come out this far unless something was wrong.

  As Cronje jogged back into the driveway the hover bikes, with a screech of brakes, came to a stop before him. Reddash and the soldiers jumped off the bikes, resting them on their hover brake, a light emanating from the bottom of the machine which created a mini force-field that prevented any movement of the bikes unless the operator restarted the machine.

  ‘What’s the matter, Reddash?’ Cronje asked.

  ‘Can we go inside, Sir?’ answered a breathless Reddash. In answer Cronje gestured for all the soldiers to come in for refreshments. Marcy had already begun preparation of the cold refreshing drinks, as she heard and saw the soldiers pull up outside the house.

  After the soldiers had all taken in refreshments, Cronje took Reddash to one side. ‘Tell me, what is going on?’

  Reddash placed his iced sweet tea down. ‘They are disbanding the Malacca Clan Eastern Army,’ said Reddash, handing Cronje an order paper, ‘by order of the Joint Inner Council,’ he finished bitterly. Cronje read the order.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There has been a lot of trouble. Since those two hitchhikers were beaten, we have had many more humans travelling to the Eastern Quadrant,’ said Reddash, as he took a sip of his tea. ‘Most of them have been fine, causing no problems but a growing minority are causing fights, drinking too much as Emula is now seen as something called a stag destination.’

  Cronje grimaced; Emula was the Eastern Quadrant’s capital city and was a beautiful, quiet place with many beer establishments. Now it appeared the human illness of too much alcoholic indulgence had spread to his quadrant.

  ‘Surely we can manage this trouble?’ Cronje asked. He knew the Malacca army, which in the old days numbered in excess of seventy-five thousand men and women, was significantly smaller now but shouldn’t a few troublemakers be dealt with comfortably?

  ‘Sir, you don’t understand, with the conscription law repealed our numbers on Earth have dropped below twenty thousand men and women. Our best soldiers are with the Expeditionary Force,’ Reddash explained. Cronje disagreed, he did understand that despite the repeal of the conscription laws the Malacca clan still had a professional fighting unit, although, he also knew that with twenty thousand of his best troops with the expedition, they had an experience gap. But this was just a few drunken revellers.

  ‘Where are our soldiers now?’ Cronje asked as he pulled on his uniform; the farm would have to wait.

  ‘Two thousand are in the Core supporting the US Army and Russian troops and the rapid expansion of the settlement. Eight thousand in the Eastern Quadrant and the rest scattered around the other quadrants.’

  ‘How many troops from Earth are there in the Core?’

  ‘At last count, about ten thousand,’ said Reddash.

  ‘Why so many?’

  ‘The Core has nearly doubled in size and now holds nearly one hundred and sixty thousand Zeinonians and humans,’ said Reddash. He saw Cronje’s surprise. ‘They are mining vast parts of the zinithium fields and with the Freedom of Movement Act 2014; no one can prevent immigration rights across Earth.

  ‘Madness! What are Lords Southgate and Fathom’s views of this?’ Cronje demanded, cursing that he took such a back seat. Reddash just shrugged.

  ‘I know that Lord Southgate has challenged the decision on behalf of Zein but I have not heard from Lord Fathom in over a month.’

  ‘That’s disturbing. Anyway, why disband our army?’ said Cronje. Reddash went red with embarrassment.

  Cronje paused, pulling on his tunic. ‘What’s happened?’

  Reddash fidgeted and the other soldiers who had overheard some of the conversation also looked anywhere except at their Commander-In-Chief.

  ‘Spit it out, man,’ said Cronje, expecting the worse.

  ‘A few nights ago there were ten fights in different parts of Emula and the local militia were overrun. The fights didn’t seem connected but then they seemed to join up and bars were destroyed, local villagers were attacked so I sent in the garrison.’ Reddash couldn’t look Cronje in the eye. Cronje didn’t give him any respite as he bent forward and locked his penetrative glare at his second-in-command. ‘We had no choice, they were wrecking the bars and the Royal Council building,’ Reddash pleaded.

  ‘What did you do?’ Cronje had a hard knot in the pit of his stomach.

  ‘Some of the rookie soldiers panicked and opened fire.’ Was the hushed response. Cronje felt ill. He knew the humans well enough that, whatever the provocation was, live rounds on an unarmed crowd was strictly off limits.

  ‘How many injured?’

  ‘Thirty, with five deaths,’ said an ashamed Reddash.

  Cronje threw a fist at the wall, making an indentation in the plaster. He then calmly turned to Marcy informing her he would be away for some time. He finished dressing and pulled out his seckle and photon blaster from their hiding place and strapped the blaster on. He went to collect his bike from the barn.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he ordered Reddash and his troops, once safely sitting astride the impressive machine. Before long they were moving at incredible speed across the wilderness of the Eastern Quadrant towards the city village of Emula. When they were half a mile from the village border they saw the checkpoints. Cronje raised his hand to halt the procession. When he saw the unmistakable markings of the US and Chinese armies, he called forward one of his men. He knew that nothing good lay ahead.

  ‘I want you to go back to the homestead and take Marcy to the safe house in the mountains.’ The soldier saluted and roared away. Cronje then called forward another soldier.

  ‘When we are through the checkpoints I want you to collect Marcy’s children and take them also to the safe house,’ said Cronje. He then turned to Reddash and the remaining soldiers, ‘Whatever happens from now on, don’t react just accept what is to happen, that’s an order,’ he commanded. They all acknowledged the order.

  They set off to the checkpoint. There were six soldiers at the checkpoint. The senior US officer stepped forward and asked for papers. Since the unification all Zeinonians had been provided with a licence stating name, clan, date of birth, village of birth and number. The original purpose was to enable free movement around Earth; now it was being used to control Zeinonian identification.

  The US Army officer looked at all the soldiers’ identification, when he came to Reddash’s licence he motioned for the soldiers at the checkpoint, including two Chinese soldiers, to arrest him. Before they could move, Cronje acted. He grabbed hold of the officer and placed his seckle against his throat.

  ‘Drop the weapons, now,’ he said. The humans hesitated but then followed the order.

  ‘No action you said?’ Reddash raised a quizzical eye at Cronje.

  ‘That was for you, didn’t apply to me,’ retorted Cronje, pleasantly. Reddash groaned.

  Cronje directed his troops to tie them up. They then carefully approached the city village, placing their bikes against one of the houses. Dusk had fallen so they went in slowly and not by the main exit. The streets were quiet. The soldier who he had commanded to collect the two children left them.

  ‘We need to get a message to Lord Southgate,’ said Cronje to Reddash. ‘I will do tha
t; you need to find the barracks and pull together the Veterans.’ The Veterans or Vets as they were more fondly referred to, made up the core of the remaining Malacca Clan Eastern Army. Their expertise was gained in the hard fought border wars, the invasions of the other quadrants and the battle at the Southern Quadrant Palace with the Ilsid. Everyone knew not to mess with them.

  They decided the best approach would be to split up into two groups, one travelling at street level, the other clambering over the roof line. Cronje was at the street level and Reddash took the other troops across the buildings.

  Cronje cautiously crept along the street with the three troopers with him. He heard the clump, clump of feet and the group merged in with their surroundings. Around the corner came twenty soldiers of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Ground Force. Their marching was synchronised expertly. They waited until they went past.

  Cronje felt the anger rising within him. Foreign soldiers had never been on Eastern Quadrant soil and if he had his way they would not be staying.

  They carried on with their journey to the Transportation building in the centre of Emula. They dodged a number of patrols, which Cronje noticed contained no one from the Malacca clan. They approached the inner circle with the main buildings in front of them. Cronje took in that all the bars with their cascade of brightly covered chairs, which used to provide a cheerful and pleasant atmosphere around the circle, were closed. He saw the damage to some of the windows which were now boarded up.

  Outside the Transportation building there were two US Army soldiers standing guard. Cronje motioned for one of the troopers to loop round and then make a disturbance. He and the remaining two troopers worked their way round until they were close to the two soldiers standing guard.

  There was a shout across the circle and the US Marines immediately were on their communication links. One of the soldiers left his position and raced across to investigate. Cronje moved swiftly. He crept up on the remaining soldier and knocked him unconscious. They then entered the building dragging the inert form with him.