Zein: The Homecoming (16 page)

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 girl, 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 that; 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.

They made their way to the transportation room which was locked. Cronje removed his card and swiped it across the lock. The satisfying noise of the locks unfurling could be heard. He pushed the door open.

‘Vice-Chancellor Cronje, good to see you,’ said a colonel of the US Marines. Behind him there were another ten soldiers with automatic rifles at the ready. ‘What brings you here on such a fine night?’ Behind Cronje and his soldiers another squad of American soldiers arrived.

‘Just taking a gentle stroll,’ said Cronje.

‘Fine, I have been ordered to escort you to the Core,’ said the soldier, ‘After you have placed your weapons into our safe-keeping.’

‘Who are you and who sent you?’

‘I am Colonel Travers and I am here under orders of the Inner Council.’

Cronje weighed up the odds and decided he needed to play this one out. With his step-children safely spirited away, he could bide his time.

‘Colonel Travers, let’s go,’ said Cronje as he pulled out his weapons and passed them to the nearest guard.

They entered the transportation field and teleported to the Core.

Zylar strode confidently down the ship’s walkway surrounded by twenty of his Ilsid. Beside him was Leila.

Since that fateful night when she had given herself to him, Zylar, if it was at all possible, appeared to be smitten by her. His requests for the young women in his captivity reduced and Leila was a regular in his quarters.

Leila hid her disgust at what she was doing but she now enjoyed considerably more freedom round the ship. He had appointed the big, lumbering, young Malacca soldier who had guarded the medical bay with the sallow faced man, as her permanent guard. Leila found out that his name was Clancy and apart from a slowness of mind, he was quite sweet. He held doors open for her and was more protective than threatening.

She walked dutifully beside Zylar, keeping her head down and her gaze averted from him. Even with this precaution, when she saw the wonder of the Skegus city of Quentine open up in front of her, she could not stop her mouth from flopping open in amazement.

In front of her was a city so beautiful that it defied the logic that cities were large conurbations with dirt, noise and energy. Not here. There were buildings of wonder reaching so high in the sky that some of the tips disappeared
into the cloud. Their sheer sides of black glass shone with the reflected sunshine. In contrast, surrounding some of the largest buildings, were exquisite structures of every type of material and construction. It was a rich patchwork quilt of colour and style that gave an overwhelming feel of a sophisticated civilisation.

The wonder did not stay long. In front of them was a welcome committee that made Leila extremely fearful, causing heart palpitations in her nervous body. Ahead was a contingent of what could only be called reptiles in armour; their blue scaly skin secreted a loathsome fluid which kept it moist. Leila felt repelled and fought against any outward sign of her disgust…something which she was finding hard to do.

There appeared to be a variety of types of alien, with the tall ones in front, whom Zylar greeted with a low bow, representing what must be the senior leadership and then there were the aliens that were nearly half the size just behind them. They made up the bulk of the guard but it was the gruesome beasts that a number of the soldiers were holding by reins that made her really shiver. The creatures reminded her of extremely large crocodiles with legs twice the size of those on earth. Snouts dripped saliva onto the ground as they sniffed and pawed at the ground in front of her. She could see the strain on their handlers’ forearms of the power which these animals had. One creature yawned making Leila swallow hard as a vicious array of teeth, embedded inside the yawning maw of the creature, was displayed.

She felt all the reptiles eyes scan over her and she had the passing feeling that they were weighing her up for lunch, rather than welcome. She nervously pulled the cloak around her and dropped her head again, staring at the floor, knowing that the eyes remained on her.

Zylar paid little attention to the supporting cast and concentrated with many grunts and guttural sounds in conversing with the tall, more senior reptiles. Leila didn’t understand a word. If Zylar noticed the interest the human had triggered with the Xonians, he ignored it. He had brought Leila to show them what was on offer, to back up what he had said during talks with them from the safety of his ship.

‘The creature smells delightful,’ said Yisli, his forked tongue sliding over his blue scaled lips. His report from his initial meeting with Zylar had caused great excitement and greed. He was the commander of all two hundred thousand troops in Sector Four, which covered five galaxies, including the Capulus Novus System where he could call on half of that force if required. He only had Zein left to conquer and was only delayed by a rebellion in one of the other galaxies, which his army was crushing at this very moment.

‘Remember, there are over six billion of these creatures on one planet in a galaxy with no other life,’ said Zylar, waiting for the reaction from the remaining Xonians. He guessed that greed would overtake any caution and he was not disappointed. ‘Now my reckoning is that would feed the Xonian Empire for decades.’

Yisli turned to his second-in-command, Maeli, and gave a horrific smile, before turning back to Zylar.

‘I can only agree to your safety here, all decisions need to be sanctioned by Our Exalted Prince Jernli,’ he said, spitting out the words in distaste. Even Leila could read the disgusted look on the tall warrior’s face, which communicated an intense dislike for whoever Prince Jernli was.

‘You didn’t mention this in our other discussions,’ said Zylar, disappointed that he needed to convince another of his plan.

‘Believe me when I say that I thought there would be little issue but this Prince is weak,’ said Yisli, not even attempting to hide his disdain. ‘I would have conquered Zein many termins ago but the Exalted One feels we need to consolidate our bases here and on Oneerio before invading Zein.’

Zylar grunted his agreement; Zein should not be difficult to conquer and it did seem to be very conservative with such a massive army to call upon.

‘In that case take me to Prince Jernli so we can discuss the strategy,’ said Zylar, and then as an afterthought, ‘I would like to move my concubines to more comfortable quarters near me and have your promise that they will be unharmed?’ Yisli confirmed that this would be the case.

‘This is my principal concubine,’ said Zylar, pointing to Leila, ‘she is the only one who will be able to leave my quarters.’ Again Yisli bowed his head in acknowledgment.

‘Your concubine is welcome in the city. A word of caution, I would advise the alien female that it would not be wise to travel too far without protection,’ said Yisli, oily. ‘My troops may mistake her for dinner.’ He flashed his eyes hungrily in her direction.

Leila saw the exchange and delight on Zylar’s face at the last comment. She felt the bile rising up within her.

The party moved off the presentation platform and entered the city. Leila looked around her in awe. The well-tended gardens that broke up the thousands of magnificent buildings gave the city a life and colour that simply took your breath away. They walked past a new building under construction near what seemed to be an external barracks. Massive photon guns as large as a truck were being winched into the fortifications that surrounded the city.

It was not the guns that caught her attention. Working on the fortifications were a people of such gentle features you could see every grimace as the whips of the overseers
unrelentingly crashed down onto their half-naked golden backs. The majority were at least eight feet tall with arms that reached the ground. Each of the arms ended in eight long digits that wrapped around the pulleys and stone with ease. There were also fellow creatures who were half the size working with them. One of the smaller creatures lost his grip on the pulley and the gun lurched to the ground, but the tall male figure next to him caught the pulley in flight and his huge muscles flexed and took the weight. He then hauled it back to its position, where another of the creatures set it in place.

The overseer raised his whip and before it came down on the back of the smaller male, the huge hand of the tall male shot across to grip the overseer’s hand, preventing the downward application of the whip. The Xonians all around screamed at the creature and they raised their whips to tame this insubordination. The figure straightened up and stared bravely at the smaller figures and his fellow prisoners went to his side. Around the building site there were others of the same race, going by on their own graceful, subdued errands. They all stopped and began to move to where the prisoners were. Hundreds of bystanders swarmed to the site.

Yisli, who had been studying the altercation with amusement, saw the impact on the wider community. He acted swiftly. He issued a series of commands. The overseers dropped their whips and backed off. He spoke to the tall commanding but gentle looking figure in front of him.

In reaction to the shouted commands the tall male figure spoke. Leila marvelled at the musical tone of the voice. It travelled on the breeze and immediately calmed you.

‘It is all right my people, please go on your way,’ he calmly said. Leila was surprised that she could understand him.

The fellow creatures converging on the site stopped and then carried on their way, their heads bowed again. The figure turned his attention to Leila. Interest flickered across his face, before he moved onto Zylar. Leila was sure he saw him recoil.

‘That is Yi, the King of Oneerio and Skegus, Leila,’ whispered Zylar.

‘What did the Xonian say to him?’

‘Just warned him that if this aggression continues, then everyone around him, including his son,’ Zylar pointed to the young male who had let go of the pulley, ‘would be put to death.’

‘That’s barbaric.’

‘That’s Xonian Law, and that is why they reign over a hundred galaxies,’ said Zylar, admiringly. Not for the first time Leila couldn’t look at the monster who stood next to her. She watched King Yi return to his work after patting his son on his head.

Now that peace was restored the party carried on with their journey. They approached a stylish building that had a castle-like appearance for the first ten floors with battlements ringing the building. Guarding the walls, which had numerous murder holes, were a large number of Xonians in full battle dress. Behind the battlements the rest of the sleek black glass façade reached high into the sky. It shouldn’t have worked as a building but it did, maintaining an almost medieval wrapper around an ultra-modern inner building. Zylar saw her take in the building.

‘They do go in for the dramatic don’t they, Leila?’ Leila ignored him and he shrugged his shoulders at the lack of interest in her response. They entered a tower like entrance and it was here that Leila was separated from Zylar and led away by her escort with Clancy trailing.
They travelled in a lift, which was a mini teleport, up to a much higher floor.

The room she was placed in was beautifully furnished with a separate seating area, a large bedroom and ensuite bathroom to the side. Clancy was positioned outside the door of the room and before he left her, Leila asked him to notify her when the other women were brought to the building. Tired, she rested on the bed and soon fell into a restless sleep.

It was a couple of hours later that a knock on the door woke her. Groggily she raised herself from the bed, and went to the door and on opening it was faced with Clancy standing there respectfully, clutching his hands in front of him and struggling to look her in the eye.

‘The women have all been transferred,’ he said, nervously wringing his hands as he noticed Leila had just a vest top and pants on which accented her curves. He was ten years younger than the human but over the months on the ship he had wrestled with his emotions. A simple man, who was always given the boring and easy roles, he was a sensitive giant. His size stopped some of the hurtful barbs of how slow he was but Leila had treated him with kindness. Recently he had fought other, deeper feelings. He hated how Zylar treated her and marvelled at how caring she continued to be even when subjected to the humiliation heaped on her by his leader.

Leila was no fool and noticed the wringing of the hands, the blush on his cheeks.

He likes me. That may prove useful
.

When they entered the room of the other prisoners, Leila was swamped with hugs and questions. Delilah was so pleased to see her and as she hugged her, Leila thought back across the last six months, noticing how she had changed from a shy teenager, into a tough and vibrant
young woman. Leila had protected her from Zylar and other guards’ attentions. It was not particularly difficult, as Zylar was focusing on the humans rather than Zeinonians.

The three children were lying down in a corner.

The two girls, Hanna and Adira, gurgled happily as their eyes followed the handmade shiny animal mobile dangled above them. Megan and Devra, the two mothers respectively, had accepted that their children may have been born from forced relations but they were just as much theirs as Zylar’s. The latter was a quiet Jewish girl, snatched from a small kibbutz outside Jerusalem. The boy, Cian, was the oldest, crawling away from his Irish mother, Shannon, his shock of dark, curly hair already growing thick and fast. They were all pleased to see Leila.

Leila patiently told them what had happened and that she had a plan. When she left the room there was hope in the air. Everyone needed hope and now she just needed to deliver on her promises.