DNA Justice Program

SF SmugglerRohad Quark, stood before the court, his nerves were on edge, his face haggard, with widened eyes, haunted by some inner anxiety, as he watched the mallet fall.

A voice echoed around the court.  “We do not accept the defendant’s plea for clemency,” stated the stern looking judge.  “You have come before this court no less than seven times, over the past ten years, for charges of smuggling anything from alcohol to people across territorial borders, but those are the one’s you have been caught for.  However, this time the charge is more serious…smuggling weapons for the Rebel Alliance forces.  You have been caught only seven times in ten years, but the question the court must ask, how many illegal trips have you made…ten, fifty, a hundred or more?”

Thoughts raced wildly through Rohad’s mind.  “What would happen to me now?  He turned and gazed at the judge and smiled.  If only he knew just how many times I had crossed the border with illegal contraband.

“We have fined you, and still this does not seem to deter you,” the judge bellowed in his direction.  “But no more chances – you have not learnt who’s in charge here.”

Rohad shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“You leave me no alterative, but to send you to the planet of Staxa, to undertake DNA remodification. That will put an end to your smuggling ways,” quoted the judge with a smile on his face.

Rohad glared at the judge in disbelief.  Then tossed his long blonde hair back, drew a deep breath in disgust, and fell back into his seat with a loud crash.

“Really!  Mr Quarek, making a public spectacle will solve nothing.  This court has given you every chance to curb your ways, but do you? No.”

Rohad gazed at the judge – as the horror of what lay before him, sunk into every bone of his body.  At that moment, his body went all weak.

“Officer’s, remove the prisoner from the court.”

Two burly looking officer’s either side of him, snapped retaining bracelets to his wrists and ankles, then marched him down the rear stairs to the holding cells, to await prison transport.

It seemed like weeks had passed by, when actually it was no more than a few days, when a tall grey haired man, with wire framed glasses perched on his nose, entered my cell accompanied by two stern looking Enforcer’s, who remained by the doorway.

“I am Doctor Crazone, and I have been appointed to assist in your case.  You have been charged and found guilty, for crimes against the state.”

Rohad stared at him. “It had only been a simple case of smuggling.”

“That maybe so, but you were carrying armaments across border territories.  The court has considered your case, and found you guilty of the charge.  I am here to help you with your sentence, you are to undergo DNA transformation…your thoughts are to be brought in line with those of the ruling government.”

Rohad sat and stared at the opposite wall, unable to comprehend the sentence…”You mean I’m to be re-programmed?”

“In a word yes.  It is all in the genes.  Yours made you a smuggler, as your father before you, but with DNA programming we will change your outlook on life.”

“But why?”

“Trust us, we know what is right for you.”

“All because I am a smuggler, you put me in this place for DNA re-programming as you put it; it is no more than another form of mind control.  I remember stories told to me by my father years ago of such scientific research carried out, but it was outlawed, as it was against the individuals human rights.”

Early the following morning the door to his cell was thrown open and two black cloaked Enforcers dragged him from his bed, and along the uneven ridges of the stone corridor.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, as the sound of fear rose in my voice.

Resistance was futile, for he hadn’t the strength to resist, as he was dragged into a clinical operating room.

Rohad gazed about himself for a split second, as the two enforcers grabbed him by the arms and legs, thrusting him on the table, and strapping him down with straps around his legs, ankles, head and waist.

“What are you going to do?”

Doctor Crazone, walked closer to the table.  “It won’t hurt, well not much, but DNA treatment has proved effective in seventy per cent of cases.”

Rohads eyes watched the good doctor’s fingers slide over some buttons, and fine rods penetrated his skull, and that was the last thing he could remember, the pain was excruciating.

As the months passed by the treatment continued.  Every day he was subjected to the treatment, as every thought of his past was erased from his mind.

Rohad knew nothing of his past life, by the time his treatment was completed.  He had a new name and face, spoke in a voice that sounded more educated than he knew it to be, and was trained as an Enforcer, catching smugglers crossing territorial borders with their illegal contraband…just as he used to.

Rohad shakes off the last of his nightmares, of his former life, and prepares himself for his monthly assessment, as he had done so since taking up the position as an Inter-Space Enforcer.

No matter what he does, he is still gaunt, still as hollow-eyed as a walking corpse.  Still feels like one of them, but deep inside his old life was breaking away the DNA programming, and making its way to the surface.

He went through the full DNA Program, through every painful step of it.  He atoned for his crimes.  They rebuilt his body with new DNA, and, and uploaded new thoughts into his mind.  Finally they released him, to begin his new life…working for the government.

Doctor Crazone along with an Enforcer, wait for me in my living quarters.  “I am waiting,” stated the doctor, with an impatient tone in his voice.

I nod in approval, ignoring the threat in his words, and in the tone.

Sensing Crazone looking at his flawless face, and the pristine white walls of his living quarters.  “You still seem to be re-adapting particularly well.  You have had no trouble since our last interview?”

Nightmare of his past life, seem even more clearer with each nights dream, he didn’t dare confess this, as he knew he would be sent back for more DNA treatment, the dreams were better than that.  “I’m still alive, they haven’t killed off all of my own self,” screams out a voice in his subconscious.

“No,” I reply.

“I am glad.”

Rohad cannot bear the next part, as Crazone probes his mind, endlessly hunting flaws, the things that will break him.  His mind endlessly thinks of the final days of the program, knowing it would be enough to block any mind probe of his actual thoughts.  What he would really like to do, is kill the doctor, who took away his old life.

Space Ships 27

Under the pretence of being an Enforcer, Rohad smuggled contraband, in the hold of his ship.  What the authorities were unaware of, he was using his position to put the competition out of business.

As each month passed by, the monthly assessments were getting harder to fool the authorities, as the procedure was wearing off, his old memories were returning…it would only be a matter of time, before he would return to his old ways all together!

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The Justice Program

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Jeremy Maxwell, his dark face set in sullen lines, as he watched the mallet fall.  There was little difference between the Moon and Earth courts.  The judge’s voice boomed around the court.  “The law does not accept the defendant’s plea for clemency.

“You have come before me no less than five times, on similar charges.  I therefore have no alternative but to sentence you to one year at the Scientific Research Centre at Markgrove in the Asus region.”

Jeremy glared at the judge in disbelief.  Tossing his long blonde hair back, drew a deep breath, and fell back into his seat with a loud crash.

“Really Mr Maxwell, making a public spectacle of yourself will solve nothing.  Officers take him down.”

Between the sterile white stone walls of the hospital chamber, Maxwell lay back and looked on as the auto-medics moved in on his arm, like creatures preparing for a feast.  A nanoserum had already been applied, to anaesthetise the limb and prepare for incision.  Dull iron restraining band felt cold against his soft white skin.  With a swift precise movement, the first scalpel cut deep into his flesh.

Feeling nothing in his arm gazed towards it only to see that it had been completely removed, and laid in a cryolis chamber.  The scalpels lay to one side now, sticky with his blood.  With perfect synchronised movement a laser controlled implement moved in and began sealing the wound, leaving a lingering burnt smell that was to haunt him for some time.

A few hours had passed and his forearm had been removed and was the property of the state for the next 12 months.  He now lay in the recovery room, when he came too; his probation officer Miss Daniel’s sat waiting.

“A year’s sentence isn’t such a long time, Mr Maxwell.  It’ll be over before you know it, and you will get used to being without your forearm, for the next year.”

“Do you have to be quite so callous about it?”

“What would you prefer?  That I didn’t mention what has happened here?  You brought this on yourself by committing the crime and now you must suffer the consequences of your actions”

“No, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be so off-hand.”  As Maxwell gazed at the stump of his arm still numbing by the anaesthesia and wrapped in fresh white bandages.  As he attempted to move, he could feel the missing weight of his forearm.  It would take him some time to adjust to the new balance of his body.

His assigned probation officer, Miss Daniel’s, was very plain looking in appearance.

“I should hope your career as a petty thief is over, now.  The first thing to do is find employment, for the durance of your sentence at least, and hopefully afterwards.”

“The first thing to do, as far as I’m concerned,” Maxwell retorted, “is get me measured up for my cybernetic limb.”

“Mr Maxwell, your sentence will last for one full year, and you’ll be required to attend re-abilitation classes, and I will call upon you each week at your place of employment.”

“What happens to me if I don’t abide by the rules?”

“Your sentence period will be extended.  If you re-offend at any time during the year, your current sentence will run consecutively with any new sentence imposed on you.  My advice to you is not to steal anymore, or at least not get caught.  Unless you have a good lawyer you could be handed a prison sentence or at the worst sentenced to the cryostasis chamber for the duration of your sentence.”

“You know it was not my intention to re-offend,” he said with a pleasing look in his eyes.  “At the end of the year, is it right they will re-attach my forearm?”

“All being well.  Yes.  The procedure is a little more complicated; the nerves have to be regenerated, and realigned.  But it’s quite a common procedure these days.  Your forearm won’t be quite as you remember it, tests will have been carried out on it, and senses adjusted so you don’t stray again.”

“Will I suffer from any side effects?”

She gazed at him for a moment, looking deep into those dark sullen eyes; “there shouldn’t be any.”

“What if there are?”

“If there are go straight to the nearest hospital, and give them your planetarian code number.  A human doctor opposed to a synthetic one should treat you.  The operation isn’t supposed to leave the patient with side effects, but that’s not to say it can’t happen in rare cases.

Maxwell, felt a pain within, that came from outside of his body, how can that be?  Slowly the anaesthetic was wearing off, and the pain grew stronger.  With his remaining hand summoned an auto medic to give him another shot of a pain killer.

A few weeks later, he had been transferred from the prison hospital to work at the exotic animal and plant food-processing unit, surrounded by three high walls, cut deep into the cliff.

His cybernetic forearm looked gruesome, with its network of levers, wires and sensor points; he often questioned in his mind, who was serving time, him or his arm?  The hand had been constructed from a mix of plastic and metal, with a claw instead of fingers, slow to respond to actions from his brain.

Thankfully, the forearm was hidden from sight in his black uniform.  It would have looked better with a synthetic skin covering.

He slipped easily into a daily routine.  Each morning he would climb down into the vaults and walk beside the great holding cages of the farm, checking everything was clean, and the exotic animals were all present and correct.  Like me they had nowhere to go, technically they were imprisoned.

Occasionally he would have to clean the cages out by hand, as the grilles and chutes became blocked with food and waste material.  Each cage was twenty-five metres square, holding up to five animals, proving to be a formidable task at the best of times.

The plant farm was self sufficient, having to be watered by the sprinklers twice a day, ready for the pickers to collect the food on a daily basis.

Every tenth day of the month, attended citizenship classes at the nearest town, travelling by monorail.

After a while you knew what they wanted to hear from you and reciting it became second nature.  As long as they thought they were inducting you into a new way of life, no one was any the wiser.

On the first day of each week, the probation officer Miss Daniel’s, came to check up on his progress, but seldom had anything to report.

“They keep me constantly occupied, no time to consider my old life.”

“It must be quiet and lonely in this environment.”

“The creatures don’t say much,” Maxwell admitted with a slight grin on his face.

Miss Daniel’s stood at the edge of one of the cages, gazing in, “are they dangerous?”

“They’re too drowsy to be dangerous, they are kept drugged up to the eyeballs, still I wouldn’t get too close to them, prior to feeding times.”

It pleased him when she visited, but relieved at her departure, she made it painfully clear he was serving time for his crimes.

As the weeks went by the intensity of the pain increased, where once he had a hand, and now there was a claw like structure.

One of the auto medics had explained part of his brain was still convinced that he had a hand; it believed as though it was still reviewing messages from the nerves.  To resolve the problem, painkillers were prescribed, hoping to ease the sensation, but it never worked.

Finally, he removed the cybernetic replacement, and carried on work as best he could without it.  It made him uncomfortable to have the sensation of two limbs occupying the space where only one should have been.

According to the auto medic, the phantom limb wouldn’t last forever, but there was no telling how long.

Night times were the worst, when he was hovering on the edge of sleep, or just waking up.  He would feel the sensation of something touching his invisible palm, but much worse was the sensation that he was not in full control of his hand.

The only answer must be that his own hand wants revenge for being removed from his body.  It was his fault and he had to be punished for it.

The following night he awoke choking, struggling for breath.  The phantom hand was at his throat, its fingers clasped about his windpipe, unseen fingers digging into his flesh.  Weakened by the lack of oxygen, his vision began to blur, and the room grew darker, all life was being sucked out of him.  Abruptly, the phantom hand loosened his grip, and Maxwell collapsed back on his bunk, gulping great gasps of air.

In an anxious mood, Maxwell rang Miss Daniel’s in the dead of night, requesting to see his hand, but she was annoyed at being disturbed so late.

“Of course you can see your hand, but you must apply to the Scientific Research Centre, through the courts, which should take a few weeks.”

Alarmed at the delay, he just hung up, leaving Miss Daniel’s curious about his request.

Maxwell feared for his life, after the deathly attack upon his body, and knew he must not sleep, as he might not be able to fend off the next attack.

Maxwell headed into the city, to see if his hand was still at the Research Hospital, or was it a dream, but how could that be, as bruises were appearing around his throat.

Before reaching the hospital, he was apprehended by two security officers, at the monorail station, and delivered back into Miss Daniel’s custody.

“What on earth do you think you were doing,” she demanded in a high pitched voice, “are you trying to get arrested?”

“I don’t know.  I was trying to reach the hand, but I had no idea what I would do when I got there.”

“What’s all this about,” Miss Daniel’s asked.

Maxwell out of desperation told her everything.

When he had finished, she sat silent for a long time.  Then she said the reason you were apprehended was that your hand was stolen in the early hours of the morning.  When you weren’t to be found at the processing unit, I put out an apprehend request on site.

“I’m afraid,” he said abruptly.  “But I’m unsure what I’m afraid of,” he said in a low voice.

“Don’t worry,” she replied.  “I will remain here with you until this is resolved one way or the other.”

Maxwell could hardly find the words to thank her.

Down in the cages, the animals seemed agitated.  Having not been fed for the past 24 hours, one of the youngest had been attacked and eaten by the others; bringing home to him how dangerous they really were.  A scattering of bones was all that remained of the young one.  After feeding them he sprayed the cages with water, considered a luxury to the exotic animals.  Where once a form of joining had existed between them; only fear remained now.

“Are you all right, Mr Maxwell?” she asked.

“Somewhat awkwardly I replied.  “Yes.  Thanking her for her concern.

“If you need me, I will be along the corridor.”

Sleep came hard to him; he tossed and turned for many hours; eventually laying in silence with his eyes wide open.  From time to time, gazed at the metal forearm by his bunk.

Finally in desperation swung his legs out of the bunk, and fixed the gruesome arm in place.  There was a slight sting as the control points probing his skin, searching for the nerve interface implants, bringing the arm back to life.

Some instinct told him something was wrong, as he wandered out among the cages.  The sensation he felt in his arm; made him question, was the phantom arm close by, or was it all in his mind?

Then in the larger of the cages, he caught glimpse of movement, too quick to have been made by these sedated animals, as he watched on, when he heard the sound of footsteps heading his way.

“Mr Maxwell is that you?”

“Yes, Miss Daniel’s.  I’m over here.”

“What are you doing in here in the dead of night?  What’s going on?” she asked, observing Maxwell opening the upper hatch into the cage.

“There’s no time for explanations now.  I will explain afterwards,” as he dropped into the cage.

It was dark; by what little light there was the animals skin shimmered, and his old hand could be seen close by.  For a moment he gazed in disbelief of how it got here, then suddenly it lunged itself around his neck, but he was unable to fully control the cybernetic arm to remove his old arm.  The more he struggled, the tighter the grip about his throat.  He felt the blood beating at his throat, trying to find its way through the constricted vessels, past the hard grip of the fingers.  Slowly he began to loose consciousness, as he grew dizzy and everything around him was growing darker, moment by moment.

Then the cages were flooded with light, as Miss Daniel’s switched on the main lights above.  All in an instant, Maxwell saw he could break the things hold, using his cybernetic hand, bringing it down with as much force as he could muster, and tore the stunned hand from his throat, and held it at arms length as it struggled to free itself.

Miss Daniel’s stood by the lower entrance, with one of the darts used to paralyse the animals, whilst I held it she thrust it into the body of the hand.  The struggling stopped, and the hand went limp.

Still holding this violent, but sedated hand, tossed it into the animal’s food tray, and watched until it had been eaten.  Finally the old phantom hand was no more, and peace reigned.

Maxwell looked on, but said nothing as Miss Daniel’s rested her soft hand on his shoulder.  “I’ll put forward a request to end your sentence, under special circumstances, and arrange a new cybernetic forearm, with an imitation outer skin, you won’t be able to tell the difference!

My nightmare was over!!!

The 400 year old Fabrini Mystery

Space Ships 17

Fear took hold of Dargon’s mind as a laser was thrust hard into the back of his neck.

“It wouldn’t be in your best interests to kill me friend.”

“No, but if you give me no choice, I will,” replied the dark looking stranger.

“You know I am the only one who can pilot this ship!”

“I am well aware of the dedicated thought control technology used by this space-liner.”

“There’s nothing to be gained by hi-jacking this craft, we are only a humble space-liner.”

“By no means are your passengers humble, for I am well aware of your sensitive cargo, and destination.  It would be better for all concerned if they did not reach the peace talks on Rosario.  So we will be going to an alternative destination, until the peace talks are over.”

“You won’t get away with hi-jacking this ship, sensors will detect you, as the ship is scanned prior to take off.”

“Don’t worry about that, they won’t detect me, and my men, it has all been taken care of.  You just keep quiet, and don’t try any tricks, and you just might live to fight another day.”

A laser was smashed against the side of Dargon’s head, drawing blood, as he tried to activate the ship’s warning sensors, indicating there was trouble aboard.

“That’s just a gentle warning, next time I won’t be so gentle.”

Fear ran through every bone in Dargon’s body, fear of being shot.  He knew, that for the moment, he would have to bide his time.  Maybe, just maybe, the attempt of galactic seizure, might backfire, giving Dargon his chance to overpower his assailant.

The man was smiling.  “Quite impressive,” he said in a favourable voice.  “Your reputation goes before you; formerly a privateer, and navigator, made your name during the Intergalactic Wars, as one of ten, awarded the prestigious sapphire encrusted bar, for your part in the Pelican Battle, one which has gone down in history.”

“Your exploits across the galaxy have made you a legend, some say you are a hero of your time, while other’s still refer to you as a privateer.   On one attack, your fleet of twelve battle hardened cruisers, slipped through a wormhole, capturing three star-cruisers, destroying twelve battle ships, and capturing over 20,000 warriors,”

“Just rumours, and rumours have a tendency to be exaggerated, from one to another.”

“Maybe so!”

“I don’t even know your name, what do I call you?”

“You can refer to me by the name Bandrill.”

There was a moment’s silence as the significance of the name sunk in.  Dargon was convinced he had heard this name when he was a young boy, growing up on the mining colonies.  “Are…you an android?”

“I am an existential life form of a thirty-two year old male, strong and physically fit, and currently using industrial flesh to pose in this primitive state.”

“An explanation was not necessary,” replied Dargon.

“There be ten high ranking officials aboard this ship, from the Earth’s Alliance?”

“That is correct, with their personal advisers, due to attend the peace conference.”

“They were but now this ship and all on board are my prisoners,” said Bandrill, in a harsh and sadistic manner.  “ I am only interested in making sure they don’t reach the peace conference.”

“You will never get away with it, they will find us.  You can’t possibly hide a ship of this size!”

Bandrill smiled harshly for a moment.  “They will never find you, only I and my men will know your whereabouts.  Now enter these co-ordinates into the ship’s Automatic Navigational Systems,” thrusting the details into his hands.

The ship’s speed throttled down, after crossing the galaxy for three hours at Warp 5, crossing from the alpha to the omega system.

“We have reached our destination, so prepare for landing…I will guide the way,” stated Bandrill.

Dargon gazed out into the emptiness of space.  “But there are no planets out here.”

“It is not as empty as you think…bring us close into that star,” as Bandrill indicated, some three thousand kilometres off their port side.

Strangely enough, the star was an unpopulated chunk of ice, according to the ship’s sensors.

A buzzing sound, activated on the console, they had activated a security defence screen.  A few hundred metres in front of them, three Centurion space-crafts de-cloaked.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” stated Dargon.

Bandrill smirked.

“Enter your access code.  You have three minutes to comply, or be blown apart!”

“I was expecting this…a planetary defence system set up for our guests,” Bandrill spoke out loud, as he entered the code into the ship’s communication system…almost immediately access was granted, and the Centurion space-crafts re-cloaked, and landing lights lit up, directing their path.

“The star shielded a cloaked planet, that’s a first,” stated Dargon.

Dargon stood beside the hatch in the frigid morning air, wearing an insulated suit, which seemed useless against the harsh, sub’ degree weather of this planet.

As he studied their surroundings, two of his crew attempted to move away from the ship, when they were gunned down by laser blasts, from automated gun-posts some ten paces out from the ship.

Dargon cringed with fear, he couldn’t believe what had just happened.  “We are trapped good and proper,” he said lightly to himself, not wanting to alarm his passengers.

His eyes fell upon mounds in the ground, just a short distance from the nose of the ship.  Hurling a rock at one of these mounds, a nanosecond later, the ground erupted with an ear shattering explosion.  “Mines!  Mines!”

Will Bandrill keep his promise, and return, or have we been left to die on this planet?  We can only last a few months at best, for he has taken the ship’s Dilithium Matrix Power Converter, and Communications Array, without them we are doomed.

The winds were picking up, odd-shaped flurries began to fall.  A blizzard was heading their way.  The air was different, a damp deadening cold.  Forcing Dargon and his fellow prisoners to button down the hatches and wait out for Bandrill’s return.

Rumours spread across the galaxy, that the Rebel Alliance Battle Fleet was amassing on the neutral zone border, close to the dormant planet of Acturial.

In the space of eight days, fifty plus Battle Cruisers, ten Star-Ships had exited the warp gate.  They were waiting…

The much awaited news reached the Rebel Alliance, Bandrill and his men, were instrumental in the capture of the peace envoy…

This one single action, persuaded men and women from all walks of life to fight for what they belied in.

Bandrill was very tall, in appearance, and most terrifying.

The forces of the Rebel Alliance had won a victory.  Their cause was just, they would rather die than be slaves to the Earth’s Alliance.  They outranked Earth’s Alliance by twenty-five to one, but their opposition were skilled combat fighters.

At first glance, it didn’t look good for Earth’s Alliance.  With orbital fortresses and ion-gun emplacements, floating along the neutral-zone border, their numbers were no match against the Rebel Fleet.  But they had an ace up their sleeves.  What appeared to be a dormant planet, within sight of the border, was in fact a planetary defence screen that would vaporize any invading ship or missile.

By the end of the first battle, 70,000 troops had been slaughtered, thirty Battle Cruisers, and ninety short-range combat fighters destroyed.

 

Regor is the name, captain of the Eagle scout ship, working with my partner of eight years; Merton.   Our existence came about by the need for law and order in the galaxies, leading to the formation of the Inter-Galactic Federation, responsible for galaxy wide security.

Our current assignment would take us clean across to the other side of the galaxy.

Adrenaline pumps its way through my heart, as I prepare to launch my ship into the darkness of a worm hole, opening up before me.  I have done it so many times, but still my body fears each trip.  Could it be sheer terror?

My body tingles from head to foot, vision is impaired, and colours blurred, as my body races through time.  Crossing many galaxies, many timelines in a matter of minutes.

According to our history records, this worm hole is believed to be, as old as time itself.

At the far end, the worm hole opens into another dimension of space; a sun circled by a red atmosphere and a group of eight planets come into view as the ship is spewed out at high speed.  Seven appear to be lifeless, covered in a deep coating of ice; the remaining one indicates a living planet, standing apart from the others.

The single planet, is encircled within an asteroid field, even though most of the asteroids are barely more than the size of one’s fist, still large enough to do serious damage to one’s ship.

Curiosity got the better of Merton, as he fires a probe into the planets atmosphere.  “We want answers don’t we,” looking in the direction of his partner Regor, but he does not hear, for he is dozing away, unaware of the mystery unfolding before them.

The onboard collision alarm rings out through the flyer, as Regor is brought harshly to his senses.

Scrambling to the controls, just in time to see the flyer being drawn steadily closer and closer into the asteroid field…and danger.

“Hit the reverse thrusters,” he shouted.  “We are being dragged into that asteroid field,” gazing out of the flyer’s forward window.

Once out of range, Regor gazes at his partner, waiting for an explanation.  “So where are we, and what gives?” he blurts out in an authoritarian voice.”

“We have reached our destination, but the onboard  mapping system is wrong, for there are eight planets in this sector of space, not seven.”

“So a new planet has evolved, just mark it up, and let’s move on.”

“Not so quick my friend, this new planet is encircled by an asteroid field; and I have sent a probe into its atmosphere,”  Merton stated.  “The probes data, informs us the planet is capable of sustaining life…and that’s part of our brief, to find new habitable planets.”

“Are there any signs of life down there?”

“None, but our sensors and data probe, have detected a space craft on the surface.”

Regor’s eyes lit up at the mention of a space craft on the surface.

“We had better check this planet out, now we have discovered it.  The neutral zone border is only an hour away at warp 2.0, and many battles have been fought and lost there.  Centuries have come and gone.  This part of space holds many memories of a colourful and bloody history.  There’s even unsubstantial rumours that the rebels once had a base along the neutral zone,” quoted Regor.  Giving his young partner a history lesson of events that once affected this quadrant of space.

Regor, followed by Merton clambered down into the two man shuttle; she was sleek and black, like a long rocket, with finely sculptured fins and wings, accessed from the rear of their ship. Merton closed the shuttle’s hatch whilst Regor activated the bay’s decompression chamber, then dimmed the lights, as the doors slowly hinged open.

Mechanical supports lowered the shuttle, some two metres clear of the doors, the engines were activated, and the clamps securing the shuttle disengaged, releasing the shuttle into space.

The sight that greeted them was a planet surrounded by an asteroid field, and a sea of yellow and green gasses.  For a split second in time, Regor turned and looked at his partner, then activated the thrust controls, hurtling them into space, on a direct path towards the asteroid field and the planet beyond.

Thoughts wandered through their minds, at what might lay down there…a mystery centuries old awaited them!

Regor did not start to get nervous until Merton’s face turned a sickly greenish colour, upon approach to the dreaded asteroid field.  The look upon his face was enough to freeze one’s blood.

“Could we not give this planet a miss,” suggested Merton, through his chattering teeth.  “Today is not a good day to die.”

“If you hadn’t sent a probe, we wouldn’t even be attempting it,” replied Regor, ignoring the suggestion, and accelerated as they entered the asteroid field, surrounding the planet.  By now, Merton was gripping onto the seat tightly, as his knuckles turned white.

Merton glanced out the port window, only to see cluster’s of asteroids, skim past with only metres between them and the shuttlecraft, whilst the collision alarm was blaring away in the background.

The shuttle began to veer rapidly as it evaded a thick population of asteroids.  Rolling from one side to another, they flew up and over one, then buzzed below another, flew within a metre of one to the left.  The shuttle was flying, rolling, and swerving at such unbelievable high speeds; that one mistake, and they would be sent reeling, into the path of an incoming asteroid.

“We are through, we are through,” shouted Regor.  “The planet is just ahead of us now.”

“We live to fight another day!” Quoted a relieved Merton.

Merton scanned the planets surface, and indicated a suitable landing area some 2,000 metres to the north, of their current position, as a suitable landing area.

“Okay!  Okay!  I see it,” replied Regor tense as always when preparing to land.  They dropped down over the tree line, and with a mighty thud hit the ground, and bounced along the surface a further 3,000 metres or so, before coming to an abrupt halt, as the shuttle vibrated, and they plunged deep into the undergrowth at the far end of the clearing.

“That sure was a rough landing,” commented Merton, whilst holding on tightly to his seat.

There was no reply, Regor’s facial fur turned a deep shade of red, a sign of anger.

Merton just sat in his seat, glad to be down in one piece.  His heavily furred face, turned deep pink, as he blushed for a few moments.

They were greeted by a wondrous sea of yellow and green sky, and a never ending forest, with an array of coloured flowers, as they exited the shuttle.

It was Merton, first out with his scanner who detected something.  “Regor, over here,” he indicated.  “Looks like the remains of an ingrained channel, could be the result of landing a spacecraft. It is in the right area according to our probe.”

Regor looks down at the old tracks gouged into the ground…smiles to himself, but says nothing.  Without a second thought, both officer’s started hacking their way through the semi-undergrowth as they follow the tracks, heading ever closer to their target; the space-craft.

“Merton! Merton!” Regor shouts out in distress.  “My head is swimming, and I am having difficulty breathing. What is wrong with me?” as he stumbles to the ground?

Merton rushes over to Regor.  “Slow down, and take some shallow breaths, the planet’s got a rich oxygen atmosphere.”

According to the computer, they had landed in the planets winter time zone, and the temperature for this time of day, was well below zero; the wind chill factor was biting through their space-suits, they had to reach their intended target, before they froze.

They finally emerged from the undergrowth, in a little under two hours, to see the space-craft standing before them.

“So why was she here?” asked Regor.  “She looks in structurally good condition.  She was not war-bird, but an ancient space-liner.”

A scattering of old bones, and weapons were detected by Merton, some fifteen metres to the north of the spacecraft.

Walking around the perimeter, a number of ancient gun emplacements, were found in the vegetation.

“Was it a battle?” asked Merton.

Regor, couldn’t think, his body was cold, frost-bite was getting to him.  “The simple question we have to ask ourselves, was it in protection of the space-craft, or its occupants?”

The ghostly ship appeared to be of an ancient design, some 400 metres in length, 35 metres wide, with at least four levels visible as they walked around it.  The lower level windows were obscured by branches, leaves, and mud; the result of gouging a path through the forest as it landed.

“I wonder what mysteries await us within?” asked Merton.  “More likely a ship full of ghosts!”

“Do you believe in ghosts? Asked Regor.

“I sure do,” replied Merton.

“Then let’s go and meet them, and get out of this cold,” replied a cautious Regor.

Snow, ice, and earth had built up forming a small mound around the ships access door.

Using their lasers they blasted away the earth and ice, and with sheer brute force, the door yielded to them, revealing majestic  styled corridors covered with years of cobwebs.

Merton and Regor found the Captain’s cabin, located off the flight deck.  They forced the sliding door open.  The sight that beheld them was a young woman sitting opposite the captain, who sat at his desk, clutching a pen in one hand.  Sadly, what he had been writing had faded away with time.  What memories they had, died with them in their frozen tomb.

Found on an adjoining table, in a metal box, was the space-crafts logbook, covered in a thick layer of dust.  Regor picked it up, and brushed away the surface dust, with the back of his hand.  The Space-Liner Fabrini commissioned into service 2945.  “That’s over four hundred years ago,” blurted out Regor.

“So where’s the crew,” Merton blurted out.

“Some of the bones outside are more likely to be members of the crew,” suggested Regor.

They and went from cabin to cabin, desperately searching for answers.  The Fabrini must have been one of the most luxurious space-liners of her time, the main lounge had been decorated like a palace.  The staterooms were sumptuously furnished.  Only twenty out of the seventy, appear to have been used; for these contained corpses still dressed in fine clothing.

“What we appear to have here, is a ship containing high ranking officials, based on their fine clothing.  Could they be delegates on a special mission?” suggested Regor, airing an idea.

Merton, shrugged his shoulders.  “One things for certain, they didn’t die a violent death.  They must have died from starvation, and cold.”

“The answer’s as to why they be on this planet in the first place, are more likely to be found within the pages of this logbook,” Regor stated, waving it in his hand.

Merton glanced at the logbook, “it should make for interesting reading.”

“These people must have died hundreds of years ago, and the passing world has forgotten them, for I can not remember anything in our history books relating to the Fabrini and her disappearance,” Regor quoted.  “A great tragedy had beheld these passengers.  Somebody must have mourned the passing of those who died here?”

A loud cracking sound broke the silence, spreading  through the length of the ship; compartment by compartment, bulkhead by bulkhead, then she started sinking very slightly towards her aft end.  At that moment fear ran through their bodies, of being trapped onboard, as the elements destroyed her.

“We had better get out of here fast,” shouted Regor.

“You don’t have to say it twice, I am right behind you,” replied Merton following in his partners footsteps.

Once out of this old space-ship, they were horrified to see that the ground was opening up, and she was slipping deeper and deeper into the ground, as it must have been doing these past four hundred years or more.

“Had our intervention, been the reason she was being swallowed up by the planet?” asked Merton.

“Anything’s possible, movement – disturbance.  The planet doesn’t want to share its secrets,” suggested Regor.

Returning to their shuttlecraft was made more exhausting, as a bitter wind of sub zero temperature had blown up, and  their feet sank deeper into the ship’s original landing tracks.

Some three hours later an exhausted Regor and Merton were back on board the Eagle Scout Ship, reminiscing of the past events on the planet and how easily they could have been buried alive down there, as they warmed themselves up with Tarludian Cognac.

“This is the Eagle Scout Ship, calling Central Command,” Regor spoke with firmness in his voice.  “This is the Eagle Scout Ship, come in please.”

“The time lag between sending the call and receiving an answer, was as much as three minutes, caused by the distance.  Their message was relayed by beacons, spread across space.”

“We read you loud and clear,” replied the Central Command controller.

“We have discovered a planet protected by an asteroid field, and went down to investigate,” stated Regor.  “The planet appears to be uninhabited, but sitting there large as life is an ancient Galaxy Class Space Liner, called Fabrini.”

There was silence from the other end, just static.  Regor thought the connection had been broken, just as quick as it disappeared, it burst into life once again.  “You did say the Fabrini, did you not?”

“That is correct.  She is over four hundred years old, according to the log book, I have before me.  She’s a real piece of history, and classy.”  Regor stated.  “We found twenty staterooms, with corpses all dressed in fine clothing.”

The line returned to static as they waited, the minutes passed by, turning into hours, then the line burst into life once again.

Well officer’s it seems you have stumbled upon a mystery, a forgotten one, surrounding the American built Galaxy Class Space-Liner Fabrini of 2945 out of New York, who disappeared without trace, some four hundred years ago.

According to our history files, it was March 2950, when the Fabrini was on route to peace talks, with the peace envoy, when she was hijacked by a mercenary group under the leadership of Bandrill, and that was the last anyone heard of them.

Bandrill openly acknowledged they were his prisoners, and demanded five million gold bars in return for their whereabouts.

We would never negotiate back then, as we wouldn’t now with terrorists…so the money was never paid, and the secret of their whereabouts died with Bandrill and his men.

Time has passed by, the Fabrini, has all but been forgotten.

This relic of the past, lies in frigid isolation.  The planet has been listed off limits to all craft, her co-ordinates have been omitted on all databases, it has become a memorial to those who died on board the Fabrini.

Wallpaper Image

Lost Civilisation…

Underwater Dome

Mathew, had just fallen asleep when the pounding on the door begun.  At one o’clock in the morning, he knew it could only be one person.

Mathew’s brother Graham questioned him as he barged past him, and through the open apartment door.  “Don’t you ever answer your phone or read your e-mails?”

Being half asleep, Mathew let the rebuke go.

“Morning Mathew.”

“What?  Oh, yes-sorry.”  Graham made a half hearted apology for his rudeness.  “Goodness Mathew, you do look awful.  Are you ill or something?”

“No just tired.  So what’s so important that you have to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night?”  Mathew stifled a yawn and stretched away some of the sleep remaining nestled in his body.

“This,” Graham said, slapping a large folder against his chest.  “Look at it, then we will talk.”

Mathew took the folder and flicked through the pages, as he did so, much of his tiredness fell away,.  He said nothing, occasionally glanced at his brother Graham, from time to time, as he read the detailed document.  Suddenly, he tossed the folder on an empty chair, and began rifling through the mass of papers that littered his study.  Finally he found what he was looking  for, as his eyes lit up.  A set of computer print-out’s that were nearly identical to those of his brother.

“Snap!” he cried out, waving his own set of figures in the air.  “I have just had four sleepless nights trying to work out, what all these figures mean.”  Mathew was well awake by now, and shared his brother’s obvious excitement.  “Your figures are similar but not identical.  What we need to do now, is get your figures entered on my computer as well.”

“I can do better than that,” as Graham produced a DVD data disk.  “This should save us about ten hours of laborious typing.”

“Great,” proclaimed a relieved Mathew.  “You can load it up while I throw on some clothes, and organise an injection of caffeine.”

Graham cleared a space on Mathew’s desk, pushing all the papers into one stack in the far corner, and loaded the data on to the computer.  Then proceeded to display both sets of figures, side by side on twin screens.

Mathew returned, dressed in an old black and grey tracksuit, carrying two mugs of steaming black and sweet coffee.

“Our figures are very similar,” stated Graham, unable to hide his excitement, as he supped at his coffee.

“So I see,” Mathew stated, looking over Graham’s shoulder.  “But what does it mean?”

“It can mean only one thing, a major astronomical event is set to take place very soon.” Graham was taken aback that his brother had not realised the significance of the find.

Mathew sipped away at his coffee, and pinched away the tiredness that was seeping back into his eyes.  Graham’s enthusiasm and excitement had become quite infectious; but ninety-six hours without sleep, took some shaking off.

“Yes, I agree with you on that,” Mathew replied.  “But what do you think is likely to happen?”

The bubble of Graham’s eagerness began to sink slowly back to Earth.  “I just do not know, but it must be something spectacular,” he sighed in response.  “These figures spell it out.”

Mathew drank more coffee.  “What we could do with right now , is big brother Daniel.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you, he is on his way, rang him on my way over,” stated Graham.  “He was still at the Scientific Space and Development Centre, and promised he would call in on his way home…spoke about working late, on some special project.”

Mathew smiled in response, as the two scientists studied the array of figures, they both had that thought.  “Do you think this could be?”  Mathew’s words faded away to nothing.

Graham did not speak, but his gape an uncommon expression for an eminent professor, answered the question.

Their thoughts were disrupted by the knock at the door.  “Finally.”  Mathew moved slowly, trying to assimilate the implications of what may or may not be about to happen.  As he opened the door, Professor Daniel King, stood in the doorway, large as life.

“So what’s so important that I have to drive forty kilometres out of my way home, in this torrential rain?” barging his way past Mathew.

”What we are faced with, is two sets of figures nearly identical from two completely different areas of space – how can that be, unless when matched they equal something?”  asked Mathew.  “What we conclude, an important event or discovery is due to take place, soon.”

“Do any of the figures match?” asks Daniel with much interest as he removes his cloak, and acknowledges his brother Graham.

“Some do,” Graham replies.

“Extrapolate the data,” Daniel orders.

Graham obeys his brother, running his fingers across the keyboard, within minutes new sets of figures appear on the screen.

“They be longitude and latitude readings,” injected Mathew, as he pushed past, and entered a series of command lines, showing where these figures relate to.

Bermuda Triangle

Bermuda Triangle Map

The right hand screen, displayed the Bermuda Triangle: stretching from San Juan, Puerto Rico to Bermuda, and then to Miami, Florida.  Believed to be some 14,000 square miles in size, and considered by many as the deadliest waters known to man, as each man looked on.

“Some have suggested over the years that it could be the resting place of Atlantis; myth or fact.” Mathew suggested.  “Or even an access point, to another world?”

“You boy’s have done good, but we need more answers.”  As Daniel moved forward, taking a seat in front of the computer; highlighting the figures and detailed map, proceeded to send a copy by e-mail to his own computer at the Scientific Space and Development Centre.  “I have got access to more information there, and can check with other centres around the world for any unusual data, matching these figures.”

“You will let us know, what you find,” asked Mathew.

“Sure, sure,” Daniel replied, making his way out of the door.

One cold morning , a few months later, Mathew woke to the constant sound of ringing in his ears; slowly groping around until his hand fell upon the phone.  Picking it up, a voice he recognised as that of brother Graham, shouted down the phone in a state of hysteria.  “Turn on channel 25, and see what is on the news, and hurry!”

Moments later the news station channel 25, was telling of a discovery off the Florida Keys.  The Electra aeroplane had been, discovered this day, 12th October 2002, some sixty-five years after it took off with its pilot: Adele Dryden.

According to the flight log, the Electra left Florida, bound for Puerto Rico in 1937, on the first leg of its journey passing through the Bermuda Triangle.  She never reached her destination, both plane, and pilot have been missing.

What stunned Mathew, Graham and millions of television viewers, was that the pilot had not aged; she appeared to be in her mid-thirties.

“For years, any a ship or plane that passed through the Bermuda Triangle, had disappeared without trace.  Now in recent times some of these, have started re-appearing with their crews.  With the help of Professor Daniel King here, of the Scientific Space and Development Centre.  Co-ordinates discovered in space, has led to a major discovery; a seamless sphere some forty-five metres in diameter, at a depth of seventy fathoms, encrusted with a dense covering of sea creatures on the sea bed,” stated the news reporter.

“He stole that information,” shouted Mathew down the phone line.  “He ripped us off; he could never have found it, without us.”

Underwater Station 2

Some two weeks later, divers and deep sea submersibles accessed the sphere, as millions watched the event broadcast live on television around the world.  First impressions, it must have laid down there for thousands of years, according to its outer decayed condition.

Camera’s recorded the first moments, as diver’s cleared away a thick encrustation of sea creatures, to clear a hatch way, to cut access into the sphere.  It was at this point, they detected the sphere, was not constructed from metal, as light burst forth from within.  The waters were being kept back by some form of force-field.

The first divers to walk through the force—field, were amazed that no water seeped in…but what they found within was to amaze the world.

Underwater Station

Inside they found a self-contained space-station with gangplanks and walkways constructed out of glass, and self controlled by its onboard systems.  Deep within the sphere, another watery force-field glowed, through which they found the remains of a medieval city.  Could it be Atlantis?

Legend has it: Some 11,000 years ago, there existed the island of Atlantis, located in the Atlantic Ocean, and protected by Poseidon, God of the Sea.  Who it is, believed, created a dwelling for a mortal woman; Cleito, and fell in love with her.  She lived in the centre of the island, and he protected her using rings of water.

Zeus, watched the immorality of the Atlanteans, with utter disgust.  Atlantis was swallowed up by the sea, in a form of retribution.

So what is the connection between the sphere and the disappearance and re-appearance of planes and boats within the Bermuda Triangle?

Is it a holding station, or stepping stone to another world?

Could this be the lost city of Atlantis, protected by the Bermuda Triangle?

This and many other theories as to the Bermuda Triangle, are likely to remain a mystery, waiting to be solved.

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A Planet’s Hopes… Dashed by Disaster!

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Planet of Cirinius

Mathew Sanderson, Captain of the HMS Bounty space ship looked out the window at the golden covered surface of the planet Cirinius, some fifty thousand kilometres below them in the Pegasus system.  After ten years of planning, and some six long months in space, stored in cryogenic chambers, we humans had finally arrived at our chosen planet.

Astronauts: Marcus, the expedition leader, along with Caroline, Phil and Ralph had been launched in their shuttle, our short-range space craft, to orbit the planet, waiting for the signal, that it was safe to land.

“Looks like the relay satellite is working,” commented Phil, seeing the lights on the control panel light up.  Their first major task had been to deploy a communications satellite into the planet’s orbit.

Cirinius was almost twice the size of Earth; the long horizon, mountains and rocks dotted across the snow covered landscape.  With the satellite in orbit, surface communications had been enhanced to cover a larger area, and was able to communicate with Earth, instead of piggy backing its way back using radio waves.

“Good to know everything appears to be working,” Ralph spoke to himself as he uploaded the video feed with NASA, as they came online.

“HMS Bounty,” she spoke without any emotion in her voice, “you are cleared for landing, proceed at your discretion.”

“You would expect more from Earth, this is a momentous achievement after six months in space,” suggested Ralph.

The shuttle’s computers are designed to automate everything, from minor approach adjustments to the final landing.  In the event of computer failure, Ralph the pilot would land it manually.

The entire landing, start to finish was being recorded; sure to be heard millions of times over the next few weeks by space enthusiasts, the world over.  “HMS Bounty, beginning landing sequence.”

The world-wide co-operation in extra terrestrial matters was no longer political sustainable, when thousands upon thousands couldn’t afford to put food on their table.  The planet was in desperate need of space and food, to house and feed Earth’s growing population increase.

America’s suggestion of a new home in space was considered no more than a pipe dream – forcing them to go it alone, with the eyes of the world upon them.

“I see one of the supply ships,” exclaimed Marcus.  “There’s another down by the trees,” he pointed out to his fellow astronauts.

A total of five unmanned cargo ships stocked with food, equipment, water, oxygen and seed stock had been sent ahead of the mission.  All had landed safely on the surface, where they waited the astronaut’s arrival.

“That’s precision flying,” Phil spoke out loud to anyone who would listen.  “Those boys on Earth are good!”

Marcus nodded in agreement.

Planting the flag in the surface of Cirinius was the moment everyone would remember, but in fact the first humans on the planet had but one simple task: to survive.  The hopes of their home world rested firmly on their shoulders.

The crew of HMS Bounty was methodically preparing to take their first steps onto this newly discovered planet.  The main video camera was extended from the underside of the shuttle, where it would film their first steps, and send back the live feed to Earth.

Caroline Joined Phil near the airlock.  “Where’s Marcus?”

“Already in the airlock suiting up, he’s so excited to get out there.”

Inside the airlock, Marcus climbed into his pressure suit and helmet, under the watchful gaze of the empty suits and helmets lined along the wall.  The suits were white in colour with gold visors.  Average temperature on Cirinius, ranged from 25 degrees Fahrenheit during daytime hours to -40 degrees Fahrenheit at night.  Thankfully, the climate controlled suits would compensate, for the changes in temperature.

The order of exit had been predetermined by mission control.  Marcus the expedition leader would be first to step onto the planet’s surface, followed by Caroline, and finally Phil.  Ralph was to remain on board to maintain the link with Earth and monitor the vitals of the astronauts from a safe distance.

That was the way mission control wanted it to happen.

Marcus drew a few deep breaths to test the suits air valves were working, and checked the gauges on his over-sized wrist watch control panel.

Not waiting for Phil and Caroline to join him, he pressed the outer airlock door controls.  He watched and waited for the light to turn from red to green.

Marcus poked his head out, lifts up his gold sun-visor, and gazes in wonder at the deep ice plains which lay before him.  He finally steps down onto the surface.

The suit keeps him warm, as he walks away from the craft.  He surmises to himself, this must be their wintertime.

Some twenty paces later, he comes to a halt, as the indicator alarm on his wrist starts bleeping – a warning, as he crunches the snow beneath his feet to keep them warm.

He hears the hum of pumps and fans of his portable life support backpack get louder and louder, as they strain to supply him with oxygen.

“Marcus,” shouted Phil through the helmet’s radio, “we three are supposed to step down together for the entire world to witness our steps!”

Marcus debated whether to respond, but he turned faced the craft and smiled.  “I just wanted to be the first to step on this planet.”

An angry silence followed.  “We are coming out,” replied Phil.  “You are not hogging all the glory for yourself.”

Marcus could only imagine the furious face that lay hidden behind the sun-visor.  “Don’t come out here, the snow is eating through my space-suit.  Save yourselves.”

Phil gasped in awe.  “Marcus get back inside.”

“I only have minutes before it eats through my air tank pipes.  Shut the door, and save yourselves.”

Phil and Caroline looked in the direction of Marcus, the expedition leader and geologist.  His choice to go out alone had saved them all from certain death.

As their leader, Marcus knew his primary duty was the safety of his team.  “You must leave the surface immediately, and return to the space-craft, there is nothing you can do for me.”

As the sunlight was fading, Marcus watched as Phil and Caroline, closed the door on him and the new planet – once thought of as a new beginning.

We had hoped to transform the surface of the planet Cirinius, melt its ice, plant seeds, and build houses for a new generation of people.  Instead we found a deadly planet, which would kill all those who set foot upon it.  Our mission leader Marcus Clarkson, gave his life, and will always be remembered for his bravery!

Space Wallpaper Image

Reign of Terror

reign-of-terror

Within recent years, we have come to appreciate the astonishing feats achieved by our ancestors, and how their advances in science led to space age travel.

What they believed to be a new future for our world was to lead to a Great Invasion of planet Earth by an alien force.  Our great cities; destroyed.  Civilisation; forced underground.  Man; hunted like a wild animal.

space17

For thousands of years, man tore our planet apart with their great destructive wars.  With no more to fight for, they turned their heads upwards gazing into the solar system, “asking what lay beyond?”

Captain Jamie Straker: a rough and ready looking individual, more suited to the battlefield, commanded the Genesis: Excelsior.  His brief was to find out what lay on the planet of Uranus.

The ship glided quietly through space, and it was not long before they reached the planet of Uranus, encircled by a deep mist.  Lying under the mist that protected them from the sun, they observed low rolling plains and wide valleys, and marvelled at the great cities of gold that were in evidence to the north and south.

Intelligent looking creatures greeted us and made us welcome on their planet.  These spider looking creatures were called Ranush.

It was not until we understood the dialect of their language, could we communicate with them, telling whence we had travelled from.

Thinking they be friends, one of the crew stated, our home planet housed billions of people.

It was not long before the crew found themselves prisoners.  For it was here, they stumbled on the true nature of the Ranush; they were a race of Barbarians, who eat and kill each other to survive.

The Ranush demanded to know the location of planet Earth, but none would reveal it.

Thirty of us entered the dungeons, four weeks later; only eighteen of us were still alive, the guards had consumed twelve.

Time after time, we tried to escape, but it was futile.

One day, the twelve strongest attempted an escape.

Straker and his companions fought their way across the planet, heading closer and closer to their spacecraft.  By the time, they reached their craft only eight remained alive.

The great bullet-shaped craft sped across the vast emptiness of space and at last landed upon the Earth.  Straker, was the only survivor; some had died from their wounds, other’s from a strange disease that they had caught from the Ranush.

Straker, barely alive, lived long enough to tell his story.

Faced with this oncoming attack by an alien race, the world only had enough time for limited defensive measures.  Survival seemed the word of the day.

News Bulletins; were broadcast on every channel, every station, every country, warning of the incoming dangers.  It could be a week, a month, or more, but it is definitely coming our way.

Countries joined to retaliate with the might of their arsenals, against this intruder of planet Earth.  Every man, woman and child, would have to fight for their own existence.

I remember that night well, when creatures from outer space, landed at our town of Rushville, nothing more than a desert town, some 150 miles from Denver, with only 89 inhabitants.  Temperature was high in the eighties, your shirt sticking to your back, and the moon glowing over the desert, as far as the eye could see.

As far as I can remember, that was late evening on the last Sunday in July, in the year 2015.  I can remember those events, clear as though it was only yesterday.

Matt hollered out.  “What on earth was that?”  Glancing around the bar, expecting somebody to reply, as the ground hollered below them.

The barman, clambered to his feet, and gazed towards the window, ablaze in light.

“That must have been an earthquake, or something?” he ventured to suggest.

I slipped off my stool, and casually strolled across to the now illuminated windows.  The cause of the turbulence had caused a mini sandstorm, from the parking lot opposite heading down the main street.

“Whatever it was,” someone in the back of the bar announced, “we have no power now!”

Shielding my eyes from the bright light, I saw what had caused the power failure, not a matter of downed power lines; some sort of flying object.

The shaking stopped, and the lights shuddered back into action.

“Shouldn’t somebody go outside and see what caused it?” Jake suggested, but no reply came back.

Matt slipped out the door without a word.  The first we knew about it, was when he put his hand up in acknowledgement.

“Hope he keeps his heads down,” commented Sean.

Matt crossed the street, where an alien looking craft had landed.

Just as Matt reached the craft, a ramp towards the rear, crashed down on the dirt, making a large noise, and out popped a spider looking creature.

Matt turned, facing us, and waved us on.  “Come on out, it looks harmless, it looks more scared of us, than we are of it,” he yelled.

“You think it is safe then, Matt?” asked Sean.

Matt, just shrugged his shoulders, in reply.

These spider looking creatures, who have landed here from another planet, are supposed to be dangerous according to the daily News Bulletins.

Sean strode out of the door.  As he headed out and moved  towards the lot, two more spider like creatures appeared and moved across, to greet him.

“They must be able to read our minds or thoughts,” Sean thought to himself.

I could see the situation getting get out of control, and thought we should tell the law.

I tried the phones, nothing just static on the line, it was at this time, I realised we were isolated.

“I am going out the back, and through your storeroom, over to the sheriff’s office,” I said to Mac the Barman, who just nodded in agreement.

I slipped behind the counter, through the storeroom, and then out the back door, over the fence by the trashcans.

As I reached over the fence, three more of those creatures were in the rear alley, making a high-pitched whistling sound; it just went right through you, just like a howling wind.

These spider like creatures, with four tentacle styled arms, were about six to seven feet in height, and glided across the ground, in a floating motion.

Looking into the creatures head, you saw nothing, just blackness, an ever-ending effect, with holes for its eyes and mouth.  What they were made of, we never found out.

If you got too close, they flutter out their arms in defence, dropping a wing-like shield.

The confrontation with this alien form, lasted only moments, before it moved away, heading in the direction of the sheriff’s office, as Matt was heard sprinting down the alley towards them.

Sean, who had followed up behind Matt, slightly out of breath, confirmed Matt’s thoughts that they can indeed read our minds.

“Do you really believe that, why?” asked Danny.

“Well, for one thing, they knew you were coming out of the alleyway, heading to the sheriff’s office,” quoted Matt.

Sean gave one of his renowned shrugs.

“What do you think their intentions are?”  Danny asked.

They gazed at each other, no one speaking, as the rear door to the bar flung open.  “Are any of those creatures out here,” asked Jake.

“They were, but when they heard Matt and Sean coming down the alleyway, they moved off, heading in the direction of the sheriff’s office,” replied Danny.

“That will please Carl or the creatures,” suggested Jake.

The creatures did not do anything more that night, just moved around the town.

Three or four days had passed, and still these creatures hung around our town.

As Matt, Sean and myself, sat out on the sidewalk, beer in hand watching the aliens, it became obvious to us, their actions, and movement were slowing down.

“Danny, do you see what I see,” suggested Matt.

“Sure do, these creatures, are slowing down,” replied Danny.

“If you watch their actions, there is a cautious mannerism, coming through, but why now, something must be about to happen?” suggested Sean.

With all the telephones dead, and roads out of town closed, they had us where they wanted us.  We would never have found that out, if it had not been for the daily bus, unable to get into the town.  The perimeter of the town had an invisible barrier surrounding it.  Was it to keep us in, or something else out?

Wherever we turned, our exit out of the town was blocked.  This alien race had taken us prisoner in our hometown.

With nowhere to run, all answers to their purpose lay aboard their craft.  We backtracked to the alien craft, to find even more of them now standing guard by the ramp.  As we approached, they glided back up the ramp.

“Let’s get out of here,” shouted Matt.  “I have got a bad feeling about this.”

Come dark, the ship was silent, as the alien creatures paraded around the streets.  Matt and Sean crept up into the hold, while I stood lookout by the side of the ship.

Time stood still, my heart ever racing, waiting, and watching for my compatriots, when suddenly they raced out of the ship, their faces were stone white, with fear.

“Well, what did you find?” I asked, once we had retreated to the safety of the bar.

Sean’s hands were shaking, as he tried to take a drink.

“You are scaring me,” I replied.

“You would say, the town is devoid of people at the moment, compared with normal times?” asked Matt.

“Well, yeah.”

“That is because the hold of that ship contains hanging body bags of our people.”

“Are they alive?”

“I did not stay long enough to find out,” replied Sean.

“Remember those broadcasts, warning us of danger from alien invaders,” stated Jake.  “It looks as though their intention is abduction, but to what ends?”

Matt, gazed around the bar, looking into the eyes of those close by.  “We have no option but to kill them all, and destroy their ship.  Our aim, being the survival of our race.  It is either them or us.”

We waited for night to come.  There was me, Carl, Matt, Sean, and Mac; Carl was carrying a rifle along with Matt and Sean, while Mac and I carried shotguns.

Right on cue, they appeared and we started firing at them.  We moved forward as one mass, firing and clearing, firing and clearing.  These alien creatures never knew what hit them.  They just folded up and fell to the ground, some inside the ship, and some outside, others on the ramp.  When they were all down, Carl went up to each one and put a couple of bullets into its head from his handgun.

We checked over the ship, and removed any of the townsfolk discovered.   A further four were found in the hold, and we filled them full of lead like the rest.

When the sun rose the following morning, our act of destruction, was clear to see.  We placed all the alien creatures upon their ship, and doused the whole thing in gasoline.  Then we tossed a match into it.  It burned quietly, for three whole days and nights; a cloud of black smoke, rose 200 feet into the air.

Nobody spoke of the events again.  Who would believe us?  Where was the proof?

What happened those few days in our town of Rushville, was to haunt me for years to come.  Was our planet, facing extinction by an alien race?

The Ranush, entered Earth’s atmosphere by way of a black hole.  They arrived in their thousands spewing out ionized gasses into the blackness of space.  Battle cruisers roamed the perimeter of the fleet, housing short-range fighters; whilst the main fleet consisted of cargo vessels holding thousands of warriors.

After seven moons had passed, each side blasting away at each other; the Ranush dive bombed the planet by their thousands, one wave after another, with their short range fighters, destroying buildings until all that remained of the human race lay dead, dying or maimed.  Their losses were minimal, for Earth faced an enemy with firepower, far exceeding their own.

Within twenty moons, the Ranush warriors had fought hand to hand with the human race.  Capturing some three billion prisoners and executing as many.  Thousands had fled for safety in new cities being built below ground.

A central dome consisting of inter-locking pre-fabricated steel sections with an inner and outer wall with a common walkway between the two, along with thousands of additional walkways had been built, all leading to large groups of interlocking housing domes.  Each glazed in high-density aluminium sheeting.  A series of trusses supports the main dome, outlying domes and walkways, and power conduits running through the construction.  All in all, we had built our own city underground.

Whilst the Ranush had the planets surface, we humans laboured below, extending our city of life further and further; with millions of intricate honeycombed passages.

Food was in short supply, with limited underground food farms.  Warriors were selected to hunt on the surface for livestock.  This became a game of cat and mouse with the Ranush.

Our technology saved us from extinction itself; for we had the ability and scientific minds to create synthetic foods.

Man, lived like an animal, in their underground cities.  For it had been twenty years since many of us had seen daylight, and breathed fresh air.

The Barbarian spiders like creatures known as the Ranush, came from planet Uranus, and now rule planet Earth.  We are no more than animals surviving below ground, just as they were on their home planet.

What future remains for the human race, as we know it!

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Planetary Extinction

In the beginning, the universe was a swirling sea of black space…a nothingness existed.

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It was imaginably cold.  Ice mountains floated in the nothingness. Frozen rocks tumbled through the darkness, collided and shattered.  Cold stars burned faintly.

The cosmic Gods formed the planet of Terra.  The race of humanoids who lived there, were born in their eyes, and known as the Zylons, an intelligent race.  They believed they were the true masters of the galaxy.

They offered protection to planets under their control, not with violence; but with fear.  It is rumoured Zylon warriors would land on new territory, with their prophet.  No planet, no race, no person, says no!  It is believed their population numbers in the trillions.

Thousands of years ago, the prophet of the Zylon race, fought to stop the scourge of the Hawks on their galaxy.

A great battle ensued, which lasted ten long years; cargo ship after cargo ship was attacked…planet after planet until the Zylons were pushed back to their homelands.

Even with their vast numbers of warriors, they were no match for the Hawks.  Squadrons of fighters attacked deep into the Zylon homelands…until they were no more!

Piracy and smuggling is believed to date back more than three thousand years, and first writings of it, come from the planet Earth.

The Hawks, a band of cut-throat pirates, dates back a thousand years or more.  The brave and dangerous pirates, cruised the depths of space, attacking without provocation; space-ships, cargo-ships, space-stations, and settlements in search of fame and fortune, among the underworld.

History tells of some planets, who hired them to represent them in their wars, with neighbouring planets.  The most popular form, was attacking their lifeline; enemy shipping.

Over the years, the Hawks, had grown in size, and amassed a fleet of 60+ ships committing acts of piracy and smuggling on a grand scale, that made them notorious throughout the galaxy.  Nobody!  Nobody! Was powerful enough to put a stop to their deeds.

Andretta Hawk, one of the original descendants of the Hawks, born on the planet Amazon, raised and trained to fight like any male Hawk, by the fearsome race of Amazon warriors, to carry on the family tradition.

Andretta first managed to capture the attentions of the Zylons, an old adversary not heard from for centuries, when she attacked one of their cargo ships, stealing their cargo, selling the crew into slavery, and killing the captain, at the age of eighteen.

1094She earned much respect for her actions that day, and the Hawks had a new figurehead.

One could argue that as long as goods have been transported through space, there had been pirates, but with the introduction of much larger cargo carriers, piracy had been on the increase.

With the young Adretta, proving her abilities amongst the Hawks, they plundered and pillaged their way across the galaxy, concentrating on major shipping lanes – easy pickings, in a time honoured tradition.

The Hawks had started out, as a band of pirates, but they had progressed from attacking ships to conquering planets…putting fear into smaller planets throughout the galaxy.  They had become the scourge of the galaxy…They were building their own empire in space.

The new breed of Zylons, who had once protected space by fear, were forced into a violent confrontation with their old enemies; The Hawks.

Their predecessors had taken on the Hawks many centuries ago, and were defeated.  Now the task had been laid before them, to rid the galaxy of these marauding pirates who had terrorised the galaxy, for as long as anyone could remember.

With 10,000 battle hardened warriors, the battle for the galaxy had begun.

Thousands of years ago, the Prophet Zylon fought to stop the encroachment of the Hawks, on what they believed was their galaxy, but lost.

A new breed of Zylons, wants revenge for their predecessors; battles rage on each and every world, their goal, the complete extermination of the Hawks and their descendants.

Desert covered almost all of the Grecian World.  I had made an existence here, in the desert wastelands of my world.

I knew the brutal sameness.  The endless hills of sand and rock.  The constant, tearing winds.  The biting emptiness.  I knew all of this because I was damned here for eternity, until the day of my calling.  In time, the end would come only after an eternity of exile.

It was a very sorry existence that I had been brought to.  An existence of weakness.  An existence all too similar to that of the few pitiable humans that also lived out here, among the desert dunes, waiting for a time when the Zylons would have need of our services once again.

By its very nature, this was an existence filled with everything that I abhorred.  But I was Zsaram.  Despite my sorry existence, I would never let myself die easily.  I would live on, for as long as I could.  No matter What.

Every ten years, a sand storm swept across the desert, tearing apart everything that it touched – people, buildings, even entire settlements.  Nothing was safe.

When I first experienced the storm, I stood out in the open and faced it, in all its glory and destruction, until I knew better.  Now I bury myself below ground, in the ruins of a dilapidated settlement, until the storm passes.

It was amazing to me, that the planets temple stood for hundreds of years, and in all that time, the sand storms caused no damage.

The great sand storms, were followed by a wake of small fires, attacking the smaller settlements, and some thirty days passed, leaving stillness over the planet … that was a sign it was safe to leave my place of sanctuary.

In modern warfare there are no rules of engagement.  There are no strategies.  No manoeuvring tactics.  No initial charge.  All these things have been removed.  Now there is only the lining up of thousands of Hawks, coming face to face with the Zylons on the desert.

My command, one of many, consisted of one-hundred thousand strong warriors, against an enemy of one hundred and twenty thousand battle hardened warriors.

The battle began at dawn, under the deep red sky of the Zylon home world.

The Hawks, an aggressive army, attacked our defences as soon as the lines had been formed.  Within minutes, hawk blood ran down my face, a feeling I had not experienced for many years.

The sand was awash with Zylon and Hawk blood, as the sands turned dark red in colour…the slaughter had begun.

The warmth of the battle, and blood gave me a sense of belonging.  A sense that had been too long absent from my existence.

However, it had been so long since I had been on the battlefield, I did not follow procedures.  Instead, a kind of madness took hold of me, and I killed every Hawk that crossed my path.

I have no idea how many died, hundreds or even thousands.  The madness caused all of the death to blur into one long haze.  When a Hawk warrior, touched me with his weapon, without breaking my skin, expecting me to surrender, I praised his actions, before I tore him apart … he didn’t know what hit him.

After three bloody days, the battle came to an end.  The Hawks had beaten us, as they did our predecessors centuries ago.  Thousands of us Zylon warriors had been herded into pen-like structures, awaiting our fate.

Such had been our discipline that only ten thousand of us remained, some preferred to commit suicide than be taken prisoner by the Hawks … this had been part of Zylon teachings…we fought to the death.

“I own you!” shrieked the Hawk commander, looking straight at me.  “You will serve me!”

My jaw tightened, I questioned whether it would have been better to die by my own hand or theirs.  “No one owns me completely.”

“Wrong, Zylon!  You are mine…the spoils of war.”

“Death is much preferred, than serve the Hawk scum you are.”

The Hawk commander shrieked out in anger, and drove his thermal lance into prisoners either side of me.  “You may not have much respect for us, but your stubbornness, could see all your fellow warriors killed.”

Blood splashed everywhere.  “You will obey me Zylon!  Yes?  This is how things are…You are my prisoner…You are mine to control…You will serve me!”

“Serve, and obey the Hawk scum,” enraged the Zylon warrior…you could see it in his eyes, as his face turned bright red with anger.  “I may be your prisoner, but no one, no one controls me.”

The order was given, and three prisoners were dragged some hundred metres, and Hawk warriors tore their bodies apart limb by limb, amidst the screams of anger.

“Is that what you want for your men, to be torn apart one by one… I promise you this, you will be the last.”

I growled low in my throat.  “I submit myself and my fellow warriors to yourself, my lord,” bowing down on one knee, in proper response.  But deep down inside, it was better to live, for one day my time will come, and see revenge on the Hawks.

“That’s better, you will learn to obey your new masters!”

As I gazed at the Zylon palace and temple, Hawks tore down the towers, and walls, setting fire to anything that would burn.  The fires burned for six whole days, until not a building stood standing on this planet.

I knew the Zylon high command would not take such destruction lying down…they would come after the hawks with an army, the like of which the galaxy hadn’t seen.  No one destroys their temples and palaces, kills their priests, without some form of retaliation.  I don’t know how many escaped?

The flatlands:  Smooth, endless burning.  The hottest place on this world.  The driest place on this world.  The deadliest place on this world.  The only feature was flattened rock, savagely burnt, extending all the way to the horizon.

While the deserts of my world were dangerous, and could wear you down until you die…you learnt to survive.

Word of the Zylon attack spread across the galaxy like wildfire to the Zylon home world, which sent ripples of descent through the ranks, all the way up to the high council, for they believed they were unconquerable.

Thousands upon thousands, of their warrior slaves had been killed in battle.

The Zylon desire to rid the galaxy of Hawk pirates, came to a head, when scientists designed a genetic airborne disease, which travelled from planet to planet, targeting their genetic coding; destroying the Hawks and their descendants on mass.

A war that had lasted centuries between the Zylons and Hawks, could be resolved in a matter of years.  It didn’t seem possible, but it was!

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Evolution… New Life after Death?

sent-into-spaceDeath is supposed to be the end of life as we know it, or could it be the starting point of a new life?

Professor Drysdale was mocked by fellow scientists in his beliefs, so much so that he left instructions that he was to be dispatched into space within his specially built rocket, upon his death.

In the depths of space, some twenty thousand kilometres from Earth, black in colour this metallic rocket, his new home, measuring two and a half metres in length, and one metre in diameter, contained the professor’s body.

As far back as the Pharaoh’s, man had sought a means that might preserve the dead against the ravages of time.

In his need to retain his body whole, the art of embalming, which came by way of the Egyptians, was a possibility.  Time was the problem.  How long would he be floating in space.  The idea was dismissed, as bodies disintegrate into dust over time.

It was then, he reasoned it out logically, that any material substance, whether organic or inorganic origin, cast into the depths of space would exist indefinitely.  In his mind, he visualised his dead body, floating in Earth’s atmosphere.  He would remain in perfect preservation, until the day … the start of his new life!

Never would his body undergo decay, and never would his bones return to the dust of Earth from which all men originally came.

Would humanity cease to survive, and other life forms occupy our planet, until they too became extinct?

2899The once raging sun, had been reduced to a dull red ball covering a large expanse of space, edging nearer and nearer towards Earth.  One day soon the two were destined to collide.

After all this time, would Drysdale’s body be preserved intact or merely a crumbled mound of dust?

2889Entering Earth’s solar system came a force of entities, as they did so Drysdale floated up from his tombed craft to join them.  Eons had passed since the entities had visited this system.

The energy-based entities gathered around, the ruins of a gravity mine in this sector of space.  Hundreds had descended upon the great structure, as they loomed in on the core.  Here the central black hole’s gravity was so strong that light itself curved in closed orbits.

Other’s rushed past him, a dazzling storm orbiting the exhausted black hole.

After waking all these years later, only to find he had become an entity, left many questions  to be answered.

Living out an indefinite life lasting millions of years; these explorers of the universe.  This offered them a never-ending source of interest and discovery, on the various planets and systems on which they came upon.

The aged professor was now becoming more astute as to his condition.  At first, it was only a mild, passive wonderment at his helplessness and the strange thoughts, which raced through his mind.  Now he attempted to arouse himself from the lethargic state he found himself.

Quite suddenly his sight cleared, and what a surprise!  Then it dawned on him, success; rescued from the clutches of death, itself.

However, he had not really died after all; only in the physical sense.  It was then a horrible thought struck him!  Was this life after death?  On the other hand, was it an illusion of the mind?

One of the entities was asking him about the place whence he had come from.  He did not know; his mind was in such turmoil.  He found himself gazing out from the boundless depths of space across the cosmic void to a huge deathly looking planet.  He Now he was sure that the planet could not be Earth – well not of the past, his times.  None of the familiar continents, lay before his very eyes.  Then he saw the great dull red ball of the dying sun.  That was not the sun of his Earth.  It had been brilliant during his life-time.

“Did you come from that planet?” the thought impulse came from the entity by his side.

“No,” he replied.  “It could not be so.”

“So I died in the earthly sense; now my new life begins!” exclaimed Drysadale.  “I have now attained unrivalled success.”

He then turned towards the entity.  “How long have I been floating in space?”

“This being our first visit to your system in many eons, we can deduce it must have been over a million years ago, when you died.”

“So that was my earth at which I gazed upon,” mused Drysdale.  “It is no wonder I did not recognise it.  The topography has changed so much.”

“Many millions,” suggested the entity.  “Suns of such size as this one do not cool in such a short time.”

“So who are you?” he suddenly asked, as more entities joined them.

“We are entities; we come from a universe many light years from here.”

“In our world we evolved, as in your world you gave birth to your young.”

“Is it now a dead world, as the planet has ceased rotating,” asked Drysdale.

“Of course, time has come to mean nothing to us, especially when we float from one system to the next,” observed one.  “We never keep track of it on our expeditions.”

Landrax, considered to be the oldest of all entities, moved in on the professor, the newcomer who had attracted much attention.

Landrax reached for him, and Drysdale sensed the warm depths of companionship, and memory, and shared joy that lay beyond him.  Depths waiting to swallow him up, to obliterate his questions.

He floated into the gravity well, passing through the thin walls of the tunnel, soon he found he was rising through the layers of the structure, and eventually emerging into space, where Landrax was there to greet him.

“What do you see now?” asked Landrax.

“Nothing.”

“Look harder,” he showed him how.

“There be a scattering of red and blue pinpoints, in space,” replied Drysdale.

“They be the remnants of stars,” replied Landrax.

Landrax told him about the Afterglow: that brief brilliant period when matter gathered briefly in clumps and burned by fusion light.  It was in that era that humans rose to join us.

“This is the first gravity mine, built on the ruins of the primeval galaxy – the galaxy from which humans first emerged,” stated Landrax.

“The first ever galaxy?” asked Drysdale.

“But it was all a long time ago.  The mine has become exhausted, and soon it will evaporate completely.”  Suggested Landrax.  “We come to see the mine for the last time, and you are the last human to be retrieved.  According to our history – the last human retrieved, from the solar system containing the first gravity mine, would bring stability among the entities,” Landrax stated.

“Your future and our future is stretched out before you.  Our minds will flow together in great rivers of consciousness.  There is immortality to be had.”

As he gazed into the depths of space, he could make out the faintest of patterns: orange on black, in a mesh of neat triangles covering every area of space.  It was a structure that spanned the universe.

“Is that what I see and understand when our minds flow together, Landrax?” asked Drysadle.

“What we see, and what we understand will be passed through our conscious thoughts, one to another as we travel from one system to another.

Landrax indicated to Drysdale.  “As you will see when many are massed together, they produce a multi-coloured display of energy, soon you will learn how, if you stay with us.

A great loneliness seized him.  Would he be happy among these entities from a far off world?  They were kind and thoughtful towards his welfare.  What better fate could he expect?  Still a longing for, his own kind arose in him – the call of humanity.  Nevertheless, humanity had long disappeared from Earth – millions of years ago.

Was it possible when he had been sent into outer space, that space had slowed down the decomposition of his body?  Would it have been better to die than the existence that is now on offer to him?

“Free your mind, and come with us to visit other worlds – many of them are beautiful.  You will then feel a great difference,” stated Landrax.

“Will you come?”

“I shall come.  I shall come,” replied Drysdale with conviction in his voice.

Drysdale gazed into the depths of space, remembering the past, present and what lay before him – what path his life would be taking.  An unbelievable chain of events had taken place.  His new life with these alien life forms from space, offered him a life of eternity and boundless adventure.

A vague memory flashed into his perception.  Earth had been full of life when he grew up, now all that remains is a dying planet.

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He turned and studied what was left of Earth.  The dying sun licked at the molten surface with flares igniting fires in the Northern Hemisphere.  Flames leaped from the Earth to the Sun, and the Sun to the Earth.

Gravitational forces pulled the Earth apart, one piece at a time, after a while, Earth disappeared, consumed by the dying sun.

The entities bonded together with him for travel out of this system, heading for the stars and beyond.

“We have witnessed a death.  Let us now witness a birth.  A new universe awaits,” stated Landrax, as they sped out of the solar system.

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Who am I?

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If someone suggested to you that you could have been an alien in some former life.  What would be your initial reply?

Sean Carver would be like most people, and burst out laughing at such an idea.  For he was a typical American; busy, sophisticated, and always in a rush.  He was a cocktail waiter at the Pacifica Heights Hotel in San Francisco.

If Sean ever had a dream, it was about being his own boss, and owning a wine bar, by the beach, but it was only a dream.

But his life was about to change, he sensed it in a dream, he believed he came from another world…he woke up all of a sweat, but something deep down inside him, felt it was true.

How could he tell anyone of his dream, they would surely believe he was loosing his mind.

So what happened to send his mind into believing he came from an alien race?  It had to be that crazy girl, he had seen at work; who kept saying she knew me from our home world.

Sean arrived home around 5.00am, then went for a light run along the beach, eventually coming to rest at one of the beach side benches.

He looked down the beach, towards the pier, and there standing at the base, that strange girl from last night stood still, gazing in his direction.

Sean felt forced to look in her direction.  So why was this girl staring at him?

She gave him the creeps.  Her long hair was almost white, and her eyes were deep blue and round, and her skin was white as death.

She walked slightly stiff-legged.  She had a pretty face, but her eyes looked hard.  Was she dangerous, or just crazy?  Since he had started working in San Francisco, he had witnessed many strange things, so a woman with white hair and bleached skin, could not be considered strange, when you see many others, with all manner of hairstyles and colours.

One moment she stood a matter of yards from him, then with a blink of an eye she was gone.

As he continued his gentle run, she deliberately came out from behind a palm tree, running straight into him, sending him flying to the ground.  She waited close by, as he picked himself up, and brushed off the loose sand.  There was no apology, but as he tried to leave, she grabbed hold of his arm.

“Who do you think you are?” Sean shouted, as he freed himself from her vice like grip.  Who an earth was she; the thought ran through his mind.

“Do you remember, who you are?” she shouted back, with those deep blue eyes of hers.

A shudder went through his body.  “Am I supposed to know you?”

“Do you remember?” she said again, as Sean stared at her.

“Lady you’re just crazy.”

She gave a dark low laugh.  As Sean moved away from her she called out.  “I miss you…it has been a long time.”  The look in her eyes went from ice to anguish, as tears welled up in her eyes.

He had a good memory, and was sure he didn’t know her, and became convinced in his own mind she had to be crazy.  Yet as he left her there, he found he just couldn’t get her out of his head.

Deflated and tired, Sean returned to his small, one-bed roomed sparsely furnished apartment, with its empty fridge, clothes piled in one corner, and surf boards in another.  As he sat there, his mind returned to the white-haired girl he had met at the beach.  She had ruined his day!  Why oh why, couldn’t he shake the memory of her from him.

Remembering those words she spoke.  “Do you remember who you are?”  She had asked him.  As he tumbled into bed.  Funny enough, he had often asked himself the same thing, but only when thinking about how much life had changed since working in San Francisco.  Some of the changes he liked, and others, well, that was what it took to succeed in his eyes.

Sean knew nothing before his tenth birthday, it was all blank to him.  He had been raised in a children’s home…could that be where she came from…then again I would remember her.

For the next few weeks since that dreaded encounter with that crazy girl, with white hair.  I would wake from those reoccurring dreams, soaked in sweat, with images of her again, and again…just what did it all mean.

I have tried so hard to remember, but still I have no memory of her.

I can’t go on like this, he said quietly to himself.  I have to find her…but where do I look.

Just how long would it be, before our paths crossed again?

What I didn’t know, was that their was a connection between her and the recent news story being shown world wide, and I would see her again shortly.

Two childhood friends: Qua and Rohad, stood in front of the portal on their home planet…their destination the city beneath the sea, on planet Earth.

“See you on the other side,” Rohad had said to Qua.

“We are coming up,” shouted Qua as they breached the water’s surface, of the Atlantic Ocean, amidst a rippling tide, some two miles from the coast, leaving behind all they had known.  “What has gone wrong, where are we,” shouted a distressed Qua.

“I have no idea,” replied Rohad.  “The water is imaginably cold, we must have taken a wrong turn.”

For the past few weeks, ever since the disappearance of that crazy girl with stark white hair, had crossed Sean Carver’s path, the news was full of it, every channel on the hour.

Scientists claimed this to be the most significant find of the century; in the Atlantic Ocean.

A sphere, some 250 feet in diameter, and two hundred fathoms down, set into the sea floor.  Images showed the cutting of a hatch to access the sphere…what followed was to surprise a universe.  A medieval city under the sea.  From outside it is small in comparison to that found within.

First impressions were of a self-contained home, with gang planks and walk ways constructed out of glass, and self-controlled by its own on board systems; leading to a city under the sea.

According to one scientist, they have only been able to access part of the city, the technology used to control access to other parts, is far beyond our understanding, and will take time, and require the help of our best scientists.  But what we have found out, crystal coloured rods are used to supply the city with power, much in the same way we use computers today.

Claire Hammond, on the scene interviewer, asked questions of one of the projects leading scientists: Kristina Clements.

Sean Carver could not believe his eyes, it was the same crazy girl who had been following him, and knocked him down on the beach.

“Kristina, how long has the sphere been down there?” asked Claire Hammond.

“It is too early to say, but our best guess at this time would be a thousand years or more, according to early tests.  We will have a more accurate time line, once exterior samples on the sphere have been carbon dated.

“Do you think this could be the lost city of Atlantis?”

“That’s a hard question to answer at the moment.”

Some 11,000 years ago, the island of Atlantis in the Atlantic Ocean, was protected by Poseidon, God of the Sea.  Who created a dwelling for a mortal woman: Cleito, his love.

The island was later swallowed up by the sea in the form of retribution by Zeus, for their immorality.

“So what you are saying, it could be the lost city of Atlantis?”

“We don’t have conclusive proof yet.”

“So what happened to all the Atlanteans?”

“If we believe the mythical tales in times gone by, they left their city under the sea, and settled on our home planet.  Many of us now, could be direct descendants of those early settlers.”

It was at that moment as Sean gazed at the television, remembering her words to him.  “Do you remember who you are?”

Those dreams of mine, and the finding of the city under the sea, must be connected.  I must be a direct descendant of the Atlanteans!

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Natural Forces… Declares War

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I heard it on the radio that the world was coming to an end.  The dark purplish clouds that had been forming in the sky were not adverse weather conditions, as we had been told, but clouds of meteors on a direct course with Earth.  I just could not believe the words I was hearing.  I switched from one news station to the other … it was true; the world was coming to an end as we knew.

I looked out from my window, there was much commotion, people were packing up, and heading out of town … but to where?

That night our world changed as the news reader had said it would.  On the edge of our town, we were treated to a colourful display of lights, but they weren’t any old lights, by morning small craters had formed close to the town.

The craters housed meteors, about the size of a cricket ball, and they glowed from the intense heat they gave off.  By late afternoon, hundreds more objects burst forth from the skyline, streaking across the tree-line, crashing into houses, shops, bridges and petrol stations, setting them ablaze.  Who would have believed something so small could do so much damage.

As darkness enveloped our town, once home to 25,000 people, more than half the buildings were ablaze, and still these deadly meteors kept on coming, like missiles on a pre-arranged course…  Was this natural or man-made I asked?

People looked for safety, from this natural enemy, destroying their home, and their way of life.

How many had survived, such blatant destruction, on such a scale.  Billions lay dead, countries wiped out.

Natural forces, in their own way, had declared was on planet Earth.

Our planet all but died over the next few months, surface temperatures rose to three hundred degrees and more, if that did not kill you, the radiation surely would, but it would be slow and agonizing.

The seas turned to ice.  What was once beach-side property disappeared under mounds of ice?  It was the start of a new ice- age, sending our planet back in time, to a period; pre-technology.

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Frightened, yet determined to survive, we built our new homes below ground.  Four regional centres; Norpin, Gamelan, Cytherial and Magnellan colonies, each housed domed like structures, with inter-linking tunnels connecting them to a central dome, being the heart of life upon this planet.

Smaller domed structures have sprung up over the years surrounding the regional centres, used to provide homes for our ever-growing planets population.

The early colonists of the Gamelan region of our subterranean world, was where our farms were located, supplying much of the food we needed.  We had our own lighting source, from the moon orbiting our planet, as it breached cracks, and by breaking up rocks from old volcanoes.

We lacked manual knowledge so to speak, for we had relied heavily on technology to solve our problems.  Now we had to think like our ancestors did before us, how they would have solved a problem, by pooling ideas together, and experimenting.  We would learn, we would make mistakes, all in the name of survival.

Over the years the earth’s moon broke through the thick atmosphere surrounding our planet, and was known to breach the cracks and shine down upon our city, giving us hope!  I came to accept, that this was our Guardian Angel, looking over us, and protecting us in some way … letting us know life still exists.

I wonder what will happen to us, in the long term, will we create a new world?  Will we ever be able to live above ground again?

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