Edge of Revelation

by David John West

  Some of the arriving staff headed towards staff entrances to the sides of the buildings. David was starting to follow them when the shiny black door to Number 10 opened for him and he was called inside the main entrance. Once again he was ushered to wait outside the Cabinet Office. Almost immediately surprised ministers, secretaries and aides started to stream out of the room resentful of his apparent rank in the Prime Minister’s agenda. Last and most resentful of all came the special advisors, Nadia Sakrumani, who regarded David with open hostility and Timothy Danes with his thin bowed frame who pointedly ignored David. He was furious that this man had managed an audience with the Prime Minister despite Danes denying him the very same. Danes and Sakrumani disliked any interference in their control of access to the Prime Minister, especially if they were in the dark about its importance. Once the straggle of people had disappeared the Prime Minister craned her head round the door and asked David to come in, drawing her head back out of sight like a long-legged bird.

  “I won’t say ‘Good Morning’, David as it’s certainly not that. Nobody will tell me what really happened last night, only that several important people were caught in really embarrassing circumstances. Now what can that be to do with you and our so-called alien friends?”

  “My view is that our alien friends are cleaning house ahead of making first contact, Prime Minister. Not cleaning their house. Ours. Ahead of whatever contact can be made soon, they need us to eliminate corruption and criminality in our establishment.”

  “Who gives them authority to do that!?” And how can they possibly achieve it on a national scale let alone internationally?”

  “First of all I was with them,” David said. “They did not tell me why they wanted me along they just told me to come and watch and learn. The authority they claim comes from general laws that control all human races across the galaxy and are similar to our own laws at a basic level. The point is that if we are capable of joining with them then our authorities need to conform to those basic standards. Sadly a lot of our senior people do not behave as they should, and last night the Gayans decided to expose the Hammersmith house that was a cover for eminent paedophiles to indulge themselves.”

  “Well, why could they not just tell us and leave it to the authorities to sort it out?” the Prime Minister said earnestly as if David could somehow reverse the course of events to its origin and change them to suit her political needs.

  David took out his phone and showed her the photos he had taken the previous night. A mayor was there, a chief of police, a bishop and then a red-faced man in old white Y-fronts whose urbane public mask had slipped revealing something quite horrible beneath. “Oh, Henry,” the Prime Minister breathed, “what have you done?” She was staring at the familiar face of one of her ministers, revealed as the beast he became when he visited Hammersmith with his establishment friends. The Prime Minister looked up from the phone with a hopeful look. “David, what have you done with these photos?”

  “I have done nothing with them, Prime Minister, but you need to know that the Gayans have everything, and even made a professional quality film of the whole event.”

  “To what end?”

  “To ensure that these individuals are exposed and brought before the courts.” David paused for emphasis. “You know it is the right thing to do, Prime Minister, and the Gayans want you to pursue them with the full force of your office, immediately. The country must see justice being done and the Establishment here and overseas must see the example that has been made of trusted national figures who let us all down. Then the Gayans want the others like them dealt with by us, before they have to do it for us like they did last night.”

  “So they don’t care about the chaos this will cause? The loss of respect for authority in the people?”

  “Frankly, no, Prime Minister, and neither do I if it comes to that, and nor should you. We are soon to enter a time where a light will be shone on corruption wherever it exists. There are only going to be two choices, side with the corrupt or against them. We have no choice. There can be no hiding place for criminals in positions of power anymore.”

  The Prime Minister sagged, but gathered some courage that at least she had no choice in the course of action required. She had to cut out the infection in the country’s administration completely and immediately. “Please send me the photos, David, and thank you for your bravery and good counsel.” She stood and walked to the closed door asking for a Cabinet Secretary to pop in to make arrangements to call each of the culprits in the photos. “I will inform them that I require their resignations immediately and that they can prepare to defend themselves in the courts. They are all finished.”

  David took a long breath before attempting to reset the Prime Minister’s expectations. “I think you should prepare yourself and the country for many changes of this kind as the Gayans and others reveal more of themselves in the very near future. This matter is only a very tiny taste of how things will become, there will be no sweeping ugliness under the carpet, no more cover-ups by those in power. They will simply not be allowed to behave badly with no sanction any more. Our new visitors simply will not allow it and I very much doubt there is anything we can do to stand in their way.”

  “You talk like we have no will of our own, David. If I heard this kind of talk from one of my ministers they would be replaced by the morning.”

  “And yet one of your ministers is one of these monsters we exposed only last night to your surprise. You must understand that despite this kind of interference this is the best possible scenario for alien contact in all our planning and those of our Five Eyesv allies. In any scenario playbook an alien race arriving on Earth will be so advanced that we have a slim to no chance of defending ourselves against their will. Our only hope is that they come in peace, and that the kind of peace is very much of their definition.”

  “And what if they do not come in peace like we saw last night, David, what then do we do?”

  “If they do not come in peace then any assessment is very bleak for our civilisation. If a hostile alien race came here with the kind of technology I have already witnessed myself than we have nothing to match it. If they decided that we should be used as their slaves, or merely replaced us at the top of the food chain on our planet, then our fate would be the same as the dodo on Mauritius as the humans and rats arrived there, or the bison on the Great Plains when we decided we had more need of their meat and fur. In this scenario, which we call ‘Blood Eagle’, our plans are that our fittest and best military personnel go to ground and survive as best they can as guerrillas or more likely simply trying to hide away from the new owners of our world. In this scenario more than ninety-nine per cent of original human life on Earth is exterminated in the short term.”

  “But that is horrible, David. You must be able to do something. We have advanced weapons, the nuclear threat if necessary.”

  “That would be like an ant colony in your back garden deciding to storm your kitchen by breaking through the garden door. They may even manage it – but imagine the retribution you would bring upon them if they achieved only a small success. This would be nothing by comparison to what an enemy with alien technology could do to us. It would not be like the brave ending of War of the Worlds in reality. I am afraid the likes of you and me, middle-aged men and women leading civilised lives in a major city, would be early casualties of an alien apocalypse. Only the youngest, most capable and luckiest would survive to live on their wits in isolated groups avoiding contact with the new owners of our planet as best they could.

  “My counsel is that we should be thankful that the alien contact has come and is as benign as we could ever have hoped for. That does not mean it will not bring change on a sweeping scale, though. Last night was them showing us their definition of coming to us in peace. The peace standards that they set. We can assume there is very much more of this to come and that last night was just a demonstration of their cap
abilities; a challenge to us to prove that we are fit to join with them, where their moral and legal standards are as far beyond ours as their technology. They say they want to share both with us, if we are truly ready for it.”

  “So we are being tested, David?” The Prime Minister paused a moment. “There are very many places where these advanced standards of morality and law will not be met.”

  “There is likely very much more to come on that topic, Prime Minister, but be thankful this is how it is. The stable door cannot be slammed now; the horse has already bolted, let us hope these newcomers are our friends.”

  David lapsed into silence after that and stayed quiet, he had little comfort to offer the Prime Minister and she would face the most hostile examination of what she knew and when of the sexual exploitation gang in the highest levels of the establishment in London. At least she could preempt all that with determined action now, before the world’s media discovered the whole story for itself. It was highly unlikely the media would unearth the alien connection and they could be thankful for that small mercy.

  FIFTEEN

  It was decided that Daniel would lead the punitive mission against President Mblane in Matlalaland once Charlotte had completed the raid on the Hammersmith paedophile ring. The objective of the African raid was to illustrate that racial cleansing was equally unacceptable to the Gayan Worders if the two worlds were to become allies. There could surely be no complaints against the protection of little children and the prevention of genocide?

  Something needed to be done to safeguard the oppressed Nkonkis who had become utterly powerless to resist the oppression of the ruling Matlalas. It had been hoped that President Mblane would become more statesmanlike over the many years of his presidency but the precise opposite was playing out in reality. As the Nkonkis became weaker, losing all the early battles in the decades-long conflict, they were reduced to merely attempting to protect their fields and villages with sticks and spears against the AK47s and modern light weapons of the Matlalas. The rivalry between Nkonki and Matlala tribes originated in the mists of time and in truth neither tribe sprang originally from the disputed territory to the north of South Africa. The Nkonkis arose from the San people of the fairest Cape, slender and small, light-skinned and slow to anger. A spiritual people disinterested in modern culture, respectful of the power of their Earth Mother. The Matlala arose from central Africa, a tribe feared for their powerful physique and warlike nature. They considered themselves the superiors of all other tribes and were just as likely to fight each other, kraal against kraal, if they ran out of other tribes to fight. As a result the Matlalas and their offshoots controlled great swathes of the bush lands of sub-Saharan Africa. In the countries already of economic interest to the developed world this meant wealth and power beyond the imagination of their tribal leaders. They benefited from the largesse of mining and mineral companies seeking gold, gems and ore contracts. They were further sponsored by remarkable overseas aid budgets of developed countries that could be channelled into the personal bank accounts of the ruling elites. Even in places where there were no known natural resources, like Matlalaland, President Mblane was the recipient of overseas aid and speculative investment in pursuit of more elusive resources that were required in high technology for electric cars and computers. Beyond the old colonial powers that President Mblane detested but understood and still respected to some degree there were the Chinese. The Chinese were inscrutable and arrived in far greater numbers than the old traditional powers. They provided more cash than all the other powers added together and so many had moved to the capital Kangwane that it now sported its own Chinatown.

  President Mblane had built himself a sprawling low-rise brick ranch he called a palace, basically a standard chief’s kraal built of modern building materials; red brick walls, PVC windows and a roof of different coloured tiles arranged in diagonal patterns to alleviate the monotony of the walls. The building looked like a post-war medical centre with a fancy roof surrounded by a walled compound topped with spools of razor wire. Fortunately the ugliness of the compound was lightened where the local flora grew despite the grim conditions around the large pool and tiled braai areas. The palms, wealth of tropical shrubs and birdlife softened the brutal style and sprawl of President Mblane’s residence, despite his best efforts, rather than because of them.

  The Presidential palace had spawned a tumble of lesser buildings all around that were homes to his favoured relatives and administrators. To the rear was a compound dedicated to his Presidential Guard. President Mblane had promoted some of his closest family to run the Presidential Guard and he showered the cut-throat troops with cash and goods to keep them loyal. They had never lived so well and loved the President like a father, as long as that father was of a generous nature. The compound and its clutter of attached buildings sat on a low ridge overlooking the broad river that ran through into central Kangwane. The waters of the river were sweet and clear before running into the untreated effluents of the town. Rocks and broad red-brown slabs of rock provided play areas for all the children and many of the women still washed their clothes on rocks in the river. A happy chatter rose from the river most of the day as the fat yellow sun sat directly overhead and the blue skies reflected off the river disguising the sewage.

  President Mblane was listening to an earnest group of Chinese businessmen in his enormous reception room. They looked uncomfortable in business suits, too small of frame for the oversized bulging upholstered leather chairs. President Mblane wore lightweight military uniform most of the time, resplendent in medals and ribbons fantastical to behold. His chair was the largest and sat on a plinth overlooking the room where his guests were seated a full head below his own position. President Mblane required no air-conditioning, redolent in his own man-scent and the besuited Chinese were suffering slickly in their seats. The Chinese were speaking with President Mblane’s trusted administrators in small groups and he mostly observed, chipping in occasionally when he detected an opportunity for aggrandisement.

  Soon the Chinese contingent collected their papers, stood and bowed and removed themselves back to make their reports to Beijing. In strode a small group of military leaders, large impressive men also in uniform, but of the ‘recently used in action’ kind. President Mblane sprang up to greet them. These were his closest troops and the hunt to eradicate the Nkonki was the single most enthralling event of Mblane’s life now his material needs were somewhat fulfilled. They sat around a monstrously heavy ironwood table and the military described their next planned raid on the village of a Nkonki leader. Much was made of the likely resistance and how that must be met with overwhelming power and force by General Zambwan, second cousin to the President but most favoured of all his military command.

  “Oh you shall have good hunting there, Zam,” President Mblane bellowed across the room. “I envy you and these good men,” he waved to include the other officers. “I wish I could join with you but someone has to deal with all the business here that would bore you men to death, ha!” The officers laughed deep and hard along with their President. They knew that they had the warrior man’s life and they would receive their share of business on their successful return.

  *

  The Matlala raiding party approached the defenceless Nkonki village through heavy cover of thorn trees and vast baobabs wide as buildings and several times taller than the surrounding bush. They called them ‘upside down trees’ as in winter their rubbery leafless limbs looked like giant roots waving up to the sky rather than buried in the rich red earth.

  *

  The bush village was at peace as the Nkonkis planned their evening meal and went about fetching water and preparing food in blissful ignorance of their approaching enemies. Meanwhile another force they were equally unaware of was preparing to come to their aide. Back in Cambridge, Daniel had boarded the Cavallo spaceship Maria making plans for tonight’s sortie to Africa with Rafaello. They watched the Matlala raidi
ng party racing through the bush in Land Cruisers on large wall screens. The new white vehicles were coated in runnels of red dust, thrown up in roosters from all four-wheel drives of the off-road vehicle of choice of Third World paramilitaries. The men were lightly armed, heavily muscled and wearing sunglasses, relishing the prospect of reducing another Nkonki village, raping and pillaging as in all the days of their manhood. The bloodlust was upon them, fuelled by cans of strong lager, and they shouted and grinned to each other, every detail captured on the wide display wall of the Gayan spacecraft Maria’s command deck.

  “I think these boys are in for something of a surprise this evening,” Rafaello observed with the calm demeanour of the elite military force, unable to keep the distaste of these marauders from his voice.

  “Yes indeed, Rafa. It’s almost a shame we don’t get to do this more often,” Daniel smiled a wide grin. He was wearing a Cavallo brown combat cloak, light and loose to allow for total freedom of movement in hand-to-hand combat. He eschewed the bright medals of campaign successes so loved by his Cavallo companions, his tunic held at the waist by a leather belt, the only adornment being his ranking badge as Pointer of Dawn on the mission for Earth; notionally the senior-ranking Gayan on this mission but mostly signifying he was responsible for planning Gayan activity on Earth. Rafaello would be the military leader with command of the action plan this night.

  It was already late afternoon when Maria lifted off vertically from the nearest deserted farm field west of Cambridge by Queens’ College sports ground. Maria computed the flight path; a tight parabola rising south and steep into inner space before peaking and re-entering Earth’s atmosphere on a mirror trajectory plunging into southern Africa. The Pantucci brothers and Daniel were enfolded in their flight seats, which carefully offset the stresses of take-off. Maria’s DMF Drive simultaneously split the mass of air molecules in their path to pull them forward as the drive thrust them into the vacuum created. This dramatic push–pull effect hurled unmanned Gayan drones around with near instantaneous acceleration, much remarked in UFO sightings of earthly passenger and military aircraft. Manned Gayan craft perforce managed acceleration and direction with protection of embodied crew in mind, though their agility in flight was still dramatic when the crew were seated.