Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  SHALIA’S DIARY

  THE COMPLETE SERIES

  By

  Tracy St. John

  © copyright December 2020, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright May 2013

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

  imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

  events is merely coincidence.

  Kindle Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Book 1

  Book 2

  Book 3

  Book 4

  Book 5

  Book 6

  Book 7

  Book 8

  Book 9

  Book 10

  Book 11

  Book 12

  SHALIA’S DIARY

  BOOK 1

  A Clans of Kalquor Story

  By

  Tracy St. John

  © copyright May 2013, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright May 2013

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

  imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

  events is merely coincidence.

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  The Kalquorian Empire is a civilization of great importance to the Galactic Council of Planets. The fierce but intelligent species has been at the forefront of technological, medical, and scientific breakthroughs for millennia. Their military might has never been in question. Their ancient enemy, the opportunistic race of Tragooms, hesitates to attack a Kalquorian force half its size.

  However, Kalquor’s survival is in jeopardy. The force that threatens this mighty race is not one that wields weaponry. It cannot be seen with the naked eye. It is a virus.

  Centuries ago, this virus struck the home world of Kalquor. It wiped out a substantial number of the empire’s people, particularly the females. Symptoms included massive bleeding of the body’s major organs, along with those of the female reproductive tract. Damaging the x-chromosome of the Kalquorians, the virus’ effects went beyond death. The majority of women not killed within dasy were rendered infertile. Daughters born to those who could bear children were not guaranteed the ability to do the same. The virus altered the very DNA of the entire race.

  In an effort to keep their race from going extinct and prevent fighting amongst the men, family groups called clans were formed. Each clan was made up of a single female known as the Matara (childbearer) and representatives of each of the three breeds of male: the Dramok (leader), Imdiko (caregiver), and Nobek (protector).

  Despite their efforts, the numbers of Kalquorians continued to decline. So few children were born that extinction was thought by many to be inevitable. Despite all their medical expertise and attempts to find compatible species to mate with, the Kalquorian culture seemed destined to disappear.

  In the previous decade, a scout ship from a small, isolated planet no one knew of flew into the Galactic Council of Planets’ space. These newcomers, searching for a new world to house the overflow of their ever-growing population, called their home planet Earth. It was immediately remarked upon how incredibly similar they were to Kalquorians. The doomed race took note at once, and hope was restored. It was theorized that perhaps the Earthers were the fabled Lost Tribe of Kalquor’s ancient ancestors.

  Earth, however, was not as enthralled with their potential distant cousins. Ruled by a government based on fanatical religious beliefs, Earthers were taught they were God’s Chosen, made in his wondrous image. They looked upon Kalquor with hostility and outrage, particularly when the beleaguered inhabitants of that empire suggested compatibility testing for purposes of interbreeding.

  The leaders of the Kalquorian Empire, feeling they had no other recourse, decided the time had come to seduce Earther females and convince them to come to Kalquor. Women on Earth were treated as lesser creatures and second-class citizens by their men. The Kalquorians, with their near-worship of women, hoped they could entice these alien lifebringers to join their clans. And if the women would not be seduced, Kalquor was no longer above the distasteful necessity of abducting them outright.

  Almost 2000 Earther women went to Kalquor, putting the empire and Earth at each others’ throats. Then the unthinkable happened: an Earther woman joined the aliens’ ruling clan, making her Kalquor’s empress. Earth immediately declared war.

  The fighting was horrific, with Earth’s greater numbers slowly overwhelming Kalquor’s more advanced technology. As their already dwindling numbers reached crisis stage, the empire was desperate to discover a way to win the war and secure their future. Kalquor staged an invasion of Earth. Earth’s answer was to set off nuclear explosions beneath its major cities, devastating the population and dooming the planet itself.

  Now the race is on to rescue survivors before Earth becomes completely uninhabitable. Kalquor leads the charge to take refugees to new colonies and Kalquor in hopes of salvaging both civilizations.

  This is the journal of one of the Earth survivors.

  August 17

  To Whom It May Concern:

  My name is Shalia Elizabeth Monroe, and this is my confession. I had a part in bringing about Armageddon. Two months after the nuclear explosives detonated beneath our major cities, civilization here on Earth has collapsed. I anticipate I will soon join the millions, perhaps billions, of the dead. For anybody who is not aware of the truth of what happened, I want to set the record straight. I am uniquely qualified to do so, as I am one of the many people responsible for the loss of life. Perhaps I share in the blame for the loss of Earth itself.

  I was not a high-ranking member of Earth’s leadership. I was not a member of the leadership at all. Until two months ago, I was no more than a producer of propaganda films, making a somewhat decent living for myself and my mother Eve, who suffers from dementia. My work did put me in contact with certain important people in the hierarchy, but I had no power. I am a woman, after all. Made of Adam’s rib, I was created to be an appendage to man. Or so the Church said. Actually, we females were little more than cunts for men, twats for them to shove their cocks in and shoot their sperm into. Fuck the state-sponsored Church. I can say that now. It had nothing to do with God and everything to do with grabbing all the power and money it could. It’s gone, and good riddance.

  Okay, so I’ve digressed a bit. If you’ve found my handheld computer and this letter, then I hope you will excuse me exercising the freedom to say what I think. I’ve never had that right before, and it’s one of the few indulgences I enjoy these days.

  Returning to my confession. I knew all about the bombs beneath the cities. I knew that if Earth was ever invaded by a hostile enemy through either of the two wormholes, there would be a big, cataclysmic boom. I was aware it would w
ipe out most of our population and that the fallout would probably decimate Earth.

  My lover told me about it. Yes, I committed the sin of sex without marriage. I knew what would happen to me if my transgressions were ever discovered. I produced the films, didn’t I? I am the person behind those cautionary vids that showed what happened to women who indulged in carnal pleasures, who were branded and tortured and mutilated and finally executed. Yep, that was my work. One of those films actually won an award for excellent service to the Church. I burned that piece of shit commendation in a pile of raked leaves that autumn. I puked while I did it too, just as I’d puked every day following that woman’s story from her trial until she dropped dead under a shockwhip. I still hear her screams in my nightmares sometimes.

  I kept another award I was given, that showed the demonic intent of our enemies, the Kalquorians. I’m proud of it, though I have no clue how horrible a race they really are. If you’ve seen my vid, you’ll remember all those shots showing the aliens with horns and red eyes, their fanged mouths gaping open and salivating as they stalk Earther women. That was my best work. You truly can’t tell where reality ends and the computer enhancements begin. Not to pat my own back, but I outdid myself on that one. Some (obviously people who'd never seen a real Kalquorian) thought I'd patched in actual footage of our enemies. That's how seamless my work was. Actually, all of the live shots were of Earth actors of Middle Eastern ancestry, since the skin and hair coloring are so close to that of the aliens.

  But enough about me. I am not writing to extol my exceedingly few virtues. I am confessing my greatest sin. It's so huge, I can never dream of redeeming myself.

  I wonder what the Kalquorians thought when they came through the Bermuda Triangle wormhole and the major cities of Earth exploded? I can only imagine that ‘Oh shit’ moment. After all, the war was all about how they needed Earth women to breed with and save their own civilization. Congratulations, aliens! You won the war. Crispy-fried girls for every clan. Enjoy.

  Damn, I’ve wandered off again. It’s hard to concentrate at fucking-early o’clock in the morning when you haven’t slept worth shit in weeks. But Mom’s asleep, and this is my only chance to write without having to worry about what she’s doing or where she’s wandering off to. The old girl’s dementia became a lot worse after everything went to shit.

  Back to the great confession. My lover/rapist (I won’t bore you with that story, my dear confessor), who happened to be Secretary of the North American Bloc’s Interior, explained to me all about the stockpiles of old nuclear weaponry. They’d been hidden under the main cities and rigged to go off if we were invaded. These party favors were put into place right after Unification, which was over a hundred years ago. Every time the head of the regime changed, those who weren’t completely psychotic and fanatically bloodthirsty bastards brought up the issue of disarming said warheads. Mike, the guy I was screwing though I didn’t want to, said the late and unlamented Holy Leader Browning Copeland was considering dismantling the whole mess. That is until the Kalquorians made their lewd request that Earth share its admittedly ridiculously fertile female population with them.

  Crap, Mom’s awake and calling for me. I’ll finish this later.

  August 18

  The Great Confession continues! Yippee.

  I was discussing how the government considered getting the explosives out from under our major cities. That went out the window once the Kalquorian Empire said, “Pretty please may we have some of your extra vaginas so we don’t go extinct?” That led Holy Leader Copeland to tell his cabinet, “Leave those bombs where they are. Better we all die in the good graces of God than pollute his great creation with freaky alien DNA.” Or something to that effect.

  So the warheads stayed put. Five years later when we declared war on the horny aliens, Mike got scared and told me all about those nukes. He always shot off his mouth after he shot off his load. It was like he had to unburden his conscience along with his balls. I do not miss that prick.

  Ha! I just realized what I wrote. I meant I didn’t miss Mike himself, but I don’t miss that particular appendage he possessed either. It’s only too bad I didn’t rip the damned thing off him before he vaporized along with the rest of Washington.

  I swear to you, I wanted to tell someone about the warheads after I found out. It’s not that the war was going badly, not at all. We were slowly overwhelming the Kalquorians because our numbers were so much more than theirs. Mike told me the War Secretary had secretly informed him that the aliens’ technology was way beyond ours. Just one of their destroyers, if it managed a lucky shot, was actually capable of taking down one of our big, bad battlecruisers. But with a ratio of ten cruisers for every Kalquorian destroyer, superior technology wasn’t winning the day.

  Still, when you’ve got an enemy that smart and that determined, the worst can easily happen. All the Kalquorians had to do was get their ships past the defense grid and into the Bermuda or Dragon’s Triangle wormholes, and we were done. Which was exactly what happened.

  I should have alerted someone. Somehow, I should have gotten the word out to the general population. Never mind I would have been killed by my government. Never mind most wouldn’t have believed a ‘hysterical’ or ‘sinful’ woman looking to make trouble as we have since Eve in the Garden of Eden. Never mind I have no idea what outlet would have reported the true story since all publications and vid agencies were state-run. There had to have been a way.

  In my defense, even Mike was terrified to open his mouth, though he knew the dangers better than I. He was part of Copeland’s cabinet, supposedly untouchable where law and Church were concerned. Untouchable, my ass. Mike told me what would happen, and he had no reason to lie.

  He said, “If I dared to speak of this, I would die. Officially, the cause would be a sudden heart attack. They’d give me a state funeral, and the Holy Leader himself would preside over the service. It would be the event of the year, and few would guess I’d actually been murdered.” Mike looked at me, fear making white show all around his eyes. “You know how they do it? How they kill us if we turn on the Holy Leader? I’d be put in a grav-field, laid down on a table. They’d place me in semi-stasis so I couldn’t bleed out too fast and so I would remain conscious for the whole ordeal. Then they would ritually slice me open, my organs slowly removed until I was dead, right in front of the rest of the cabinet. I’d be an example to them, to keep them in line.”

  If an ‘untouchable’ was afraid to tell billions of people that they were sitting on a pile of death, then how do you think I felt about my chances to stop Armageddon from happening? That doesn’t excuse me. I knew and I’m yet alive. I didn’t tell, and an unfathomable number of people are dead. Hello, guilt. Sure, move on in.

  It was an accident I wasn’t in Washington when it went up in a giant mushroom cloud. Mom’s condition had reached the point where I couldn’t hold onto my job and watch over her too. It was time to find an alternative to our living situation.

  A media production position that wouldn’t have meant much of a pay cut had opened up at a government facility in Georgia. It was close to where Mom had been born and grew up. When she had her infrequent lucid spells, she wasn’t too thrilled about being put in assisted living. Being able to return to her hometown and have me nearby made the bitter medicine a bit easier to swallow though. Not to mention getting out of Washington would let me escape Mike finally. No more, “gimme what I want or I report you for lewdness”. No more worrying about somebody seeing something they shouldn’t that would put me in a work camp. I actually looked forward to moving to the little southern town and away from the hectic pace of D.C.

  I applied and won the job. I was a month from transfer when I grabbed Mom on a bright June morning and we took a jaunt down to Georgia to scout nursing homes. Two days after that, I was interviewing the administrator for St. John’s Adult Community while Mom sampled their arts and crafts class. Suddenly, people started screaming. We ran out of the administrator�
��s office (sorry, I forgot the guy’s name), and someone says, “We’ve been blown to smithereens and there are Kalquorian destroyers in our smoke-filled skies.” And that was that.

  There you have it. In the two months since the world most definitely ended with a bang (hundreds of bangs, if you must be accurate) and not a whimper, every iota of our society has disappeared. Emergency services are gone. Law enforcement is gone. Gangs roam the area at will, killing and looting and raping. Kalquorians skulk about, no doubt searching for some surviving vaginas to impregnate. Dantovonians fly through, inviting us to sign up for indentured work that will yank us off our poisonous rock of a planet and put us on our feet – no doubt after they’ve put us on our backs for awhile. I’ve even heard rumors that Tragoom raiders have been seen, eating whatever they find, whether it be man or beast.

  We are done. Earth is dead. I helped put us in this position. With all that’s happening now, I will probably be another body on the pile before long. You might think it’s what I deserve. You’d be right.

  All I can say at this point is I am so very sorry. I really, truly am. It’s not much, certainly not enough to make up for what I allowed to happen. If I had said something and they’d shut me up before it reached anyone’s ears, at least I could have claimed I tried. I didn’t. To my eternal shame, I didn’t even try.