The Cleansing – 19 – Chapter 7

Posted on by Opher

I thought it might be interesting to bring myself into the story. I always have a liking for a tall tale. I can indulge my creativity and idealism.

Chapter 7 – The Appointment

The craft came to a halt in the road outside Ron Forsythe’s home. He was in the kitchen making himself a coffee before continuing with the next chapter of his latest Sci-fi novel. Even in the midst of an alien invasion life had to go on. All this alien activity seemed to have lubricated some gland in his cerebrum. The ideas were flowing. He was finding it hard to keep up with the flow. That’s what he loved – riding the crest of that wave. It felt like heaven.

For Ron writing was a kind of therapy. He lost himself in deep meditative immersion. The world disappeared and he became completely submerged in his characters, setting and plot. Ideas popped out of nowhere, chasing each other’s tails, and sent him eager to get them turned into scenes. Nothing else mattered. Even the invasion of the planet by a race of alien lizards seemed secondary. There was nothing he could do about the invasion so he might as well write. While the ideas were growing he had to harvest them. If he left them they turned sour.

The kettle turned itself off as Ron watched the craft as it hovered above the tarmac. It seemed smaller than the one that had carted George and Jean off but of similar ilk – sleek, metallic and shape not dissimilar to one of those new-fangled concept cars. He studied it with professional interest. It might just provide the template for one of the craft he was writing about in his latest book. About the size of a city coach with a curved hull with organic curves giving the appearance of a living creature. He liked it. It had bags of character, not just a bland technologically sound spiritless piece of practical technology; it had real character. Ron stared at the metallic hull trying to commit it to memory and thought his eyes might be playing with him as if seemed to be made of a strange alloy that shifted before his gaze, flowing with iridescent greens and silver, almost liquid. He was loving this. Perhaps he should start making some notes before it disappeared?

The kettle was forgotten, his spoon of coffee with three sweeteners sitting in the bottom of his mug waited in vain for the boiling water.

The more he peered at that alloy the craft was made of the stranger it seemed. Ron noticed that while it was perfectly smooth it did not reflect light at all. If anything the sunshine seemed to be absorbed into its substance. The reflection from its surface seemed to emanate from within it. Weird and intriguing. But then it was alien shit wasn’t it? You couldn’t expect it to be mundane.

Having an actual alien craft sitting on the road outside your house for you to study at length was manna from heaven to a Sci-fi writer. Who could have imagined?

His eyes sucked it in like a starving leech on an obese backside.

Ron wondered how they operated the machine. There was no obvious cockpit or clear window at the front. He surmised that there had to be some kind of radar and a screen inside. Interesting.

The propulsion was also a mystery. There were no visible nacelles, rockets or boosters. If he listened intently he could just make out a soft throb. Something was going on but he could not say what. It certainly looked fast and agile and he’d seen the other one zooming straight up into the sky. He hadn’t thought of it at the time, more concerned with what had happened to George and Jean to think about that, but he’d seen no rocket flames or plasma pulses. Whatever powered it had to be some strange new science. Intriguing.

Here it was effortlessly hovering above the tarmac with no visible sign of support, no wheels, struts or tangible structure. It just floated. These aliens were incredibly interesting.

Only then did Ron come out of his reverie to think about what the machine was doing outside his house. Were they coming for him or one of his neighbours? Perhaps they were on some alien tea break? At any moment he expected those openings in the hull to dilate and a bunch of saurian Stormtroopers to pour out.

Eventually an opening did dilate and a solitary lizard did step out. A lone lizard, and it hardly looked like a Stormtrooper. Ron studied the lizard as it looked around taking in its surrounds. It appeared just like the lizard he’d seen on the telly. But then they all looked exactly the same, didn’t they?

Ron turned his full attention on to this new alien character. Another opportunity to study an alien up close. Very handy. It was certainly an impressive creature. The face was flattened and scaly with two holes that were obviously nostrils below the most amazing green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the sunshine. The whole body, or at least all that he could see of it, was covered in large scales although the face seemed to be plated in more flexible skin. They glistened and gleamed in the sunlight as if they had been oiled. Very similar to the alloy of the craft it had emerged from. The scales also seemed fluid, streaming with iridescent colour.

If only he’d had his notebook handy. Perhaps he should rush and get it, but by then the creature and its craft might have gone. Best to study it while he could.

The creature reared upright to a height that seemed more than nine feet but the crest on its head gave it at least another foot and that didn’t seem to be fully erect yet. Wow! He studied the muscular legs and long sinuous tail that was deployed for balance and thought that that ridged tail would probably make a fearsome weapon if it came to a fight, as would the long curved scimitars of claws to be found on all four appendages. He found himself wondering about the nature of the fangs that probably lurked within the thin line of that set mouth. Not something you’d like to encounter on a moonless night down a dark lane. No wonder it seemed confident on its own. You wouldn’t want to mess with it. That alien lizard was a fearsome specimen.

Ron felt Woody press up against his leg. The dog couldn’t see the saurian but he could no doubt sense it and hear that strange pulsing sound from the craft. He hadn’t barked though. That was strange. If the postman had come anywhere near he would have been doing his best impression of Cujo – Stephen King’s rabid hound.

Ron reached down to scratch Woody’s ears reassuringly while watching what was going on outside in a detached manner. The alien orientated itself, leisurely looking around at the houses and then both ways down the avenue, not appearing at all apprehensive.

Seemingly, having ascertained that it was in the right place the reptile strode determinedly towards the front door.

With a start Ron realised that it was coming for him.

Woody, his fearless defender, must have also sensed that the alien lizard was coming to their door as he slunk off back to his bed with his tail between his legs, curled himself up and pretended nothing was happening. So much for fearless defender of his master. Ron kind of wished he could do the same. But there was also a tang of curiosity. What did the creature want with him? Or was it after Liz?

Ron looked from the dog to the doorway. Somehow he couldn’t imagine the giant psychedelic lizard ringing the doorbell and, not wanting the door to end up in splinters like had happened to George and Jean, hurried off to open it before the lizard got there. Whatever the creature wanted there seemed no point in resisting. He’d stand no chance. He’d go quietly. Though if it wanted to take Liz there’d be harsh words.

Ron flung open the door just as Chameakegra arrived on the step.

The Cleansing 18 (Sci-fi novel)- Chapter 6 continued

Posted on by Opher

I (as Ron Forsythe Sci-fi writer) wanted to create a juxtaposition of a ‘typical’ working class group of friends with that of a professional writer in the setting of an alien invasion. The human race has been judged. Now comes the cleansing – the way to improve the situation. The aliens are bringing in measures to rectify the historical failings of the human race. The locals are watching the alien broadcast in their local pub:

‘Jesus,’ Denby said, his face drawn into a disbelieving sneer, ‘did you see that face.’

‘Ugly buggers, aren’t they,’ Foxy replied.

‘Did you catch that bit about countries,’ Billy said, still staring at the silent TV and shaking his head. ‘Those bastards think they can come along and take our country away from us. They got another fucking think coming. Trying to buy us off with all that guff about how great things are going to be. Pile of fucking horseshit if you ask me!’

‘Countries and democracy!’ Denby scowled. ‘They think they can fucking put their own people in and tell us what to do.’

‘At least they said that they weren’t going to do us any harm,’ Debbie commented whimsically.

‘Yeah yeah yeah,’ Billy sneered. ‘We’ve heard all that before. Every fucking time there’s a coup they fucking tell everyone that it’s all going to be alright – we’re here to put things right’ – next thing you know there’s fucking firing squads, torture chambers and the fucking gestapo.’

‘You saw how they were dragging all those people off,’ Denby threw his weight in behind Billy. ‘Where the fuck do you think they were going – the local beauty parlour?’

‘But they said they’d be right back, they were just er, being er adjusted.’ Debbie replied, looking doubtful but still desperately wanting to believe what the lizard had said.

Billy chuckled. ‘They’re being adjusted alright. Probably their fucking body parts are being ‘adjusted’ into other places.’

‘You don’t need to scare everyone,’ Charlene said sharply. ‘Not in front of the kids.’ Her eyes darted towards the kids, little Billy junior was playing with his cars but it wasn’t hard to see that he was all ears.

Billy grimaced but shut up.

‘Might not be a bad thing if they take all the right people,’ Foxy said with a big grin. ‘There’s a few of them bastards I wouldn’t mind seeing rearranged. I could make a few suggestions about people and parts. That Farage is a dickhead to start with.’

‘First they came for the communists….’ Denby recited solemnly. That was about all he knew.

‘I just hope they open the shops and let the lads get back to work,’ Kathy said miserably. ‘We’ve got to eat, feed the kids and pay the rent. You can’t do that on fresh air.’

‘They said they were going to make everything better,’ Debbie persevered. Everybody looked sideways at her as if she was nuts so she shut up.

‘At least it’s put a stop to all those immigrants crossing the channel,’ John remarked dourly, changing the subject back on to safer ground.

‘Naw,’ Foxy chuckled. ‘We’ve just got ourselves a different bunch of immigrants – Big lunks with scaly bodies!’

‘You’ll be laughing the other side of your head once these fucking reptiles are through with us,’ Billy replied angrily. ‘First they take our bleeding country away…’

Ron was watching the video links carefully. He was weighing it up with what that gaudy lizard had said. It seemed to make sense to him. They were dragging people out of their mansions, not the ones out of ordinary houses. Perhaps they were doing what they said they were and removing the greedy and power-mad. He thought about Jean. He knew she worked in finance and was always crawling with gold. Her Lotus parked in front of their large house shouted something about her income. Then there was George. He lived in the biggest house in the Close. Nobody knew quite what he did for a living but he was never short. Perhaps the lizards were doing exactly what they purported to be doing? Or was this just the start of something more sinister?

Ron wrote about aliens for a living so he was familiar with the usual scenarios. Aliens came in with their massive laser guns and hyperbolic weapons and flattened all opposition. They set up a command post and wiped out all opposition so they could strip the country of everything they desired. That was usually minerals, water, slaves and food – often the inhabitants themselves were the food. That didn’t seem to be the case with this invasion. At least not yet.

If this was an alien invasion it was pretty bloodless. They hadn’t waded in with weapons blazing. They had simply taken over. Even when they were dragging people away they weren’t killing or injuring them. Even their guns were simply stun guns. What was obvious to Ron was that they had the technology to do what they wanted but they weren’t destroying and killing. Despite the fact that we were completely helpless they were spinning us a positive vision for the future. They had no need to do that. Was this just a subtle control mechanism? Were they playing for time in order to consolidate? He could not see it. With their superior technology they were already in complete control. Perhaps he should believe in what they were saying?

Time would tell. So far he was impressed with the rhetoric. Were the actions going to live up to it though?

Grrndakegra patched through directly to the Neff. Her grinning face appeared floating above Chameakegra’s tridee set on her consul in the bridge open to full scrutiny from the rest of Chameakegra’s crew. A deliberate act. She hadn’t bothered to use Chameakegra’s personal connection or give any warning. Chameakegra noted the half-raised crest and blue sheen. Grrndakegra was enjoying herself.

‘Nice speech,’ Grrndakegra remarked as an opening gambit with what could be interpreted as a half sneer. Chameakegra was left not quite knowing if that was meant sarcastically or not. It threw her. But that was the intent. ‘Do you reckon that will do the trick?’ Her face now had evolved into an unmistakeable full sneer.

‘Not for one moment,’ Chameakegra replied evenly, controlling herself with difficulty and not rising to the goading. ‘It’s going to take a lot more than that to win the Hydrans over. But it’s a start.’

‘A start indeed,’ Grrndakegra was openly mocking.

Chameakegra was desperately trying to keep herself from displaying a hint of yellow annoyance. Her eyes narrowed. She needed to take her on and find a suitable retort. She decided to go on the attack and change direction. ‘Can you please ask your troops to try to be less violent with their arrests? Their communications network is alive with disturbing scenes. It’s going to make our task a lot harder.’

Grrndakegra grinned, the blue deepening on her crest. She was loving this. ‘You can’t cook a jebba without cracking shells.’

Chameakegra appeared unfazed. ‘Yes, but you can do it so that it doesn’t look as if you are at least respecting the jebba, not relishing its demise.’

Grrndakegra shrugged. ‘They’re just doing their job. If the Hydrans didn’t struggle and scream so much they wouldn’t have to use force and it’d all be hunky dory.’

‘How long is this operation going to go on for?’ Chameakegra allowed a little yellow annoyance to tinge the tips of her crest.

‘Until we’ve rounded them all up,’ Grrndakegra replied cheerfully. ‘Thanks to your wonderful research we seem to have got around 90% in the first trawl. Pretty good going. But I reckon that tracking down that last ten percent is likely to be a lot trickier. They’ll have gone to ground.’

Chameakegra was not impressed with the false praise. The tone of Grrndakegra’s voice made it quite clear that she was playing with her. It only served to annoy Chameakegra more.

‘The longer the operation takes the more damage it does to our long-term strategy.’

‘It’ll be what it’ll be,’ Grrndakegra grinned infuriatingly.

Chameakegra knew it was pointless continuing down this line. She was just providing Grrndakegra with ammunition. The operation would run its course. No doubt, given time, they wouldn’t track down all the errant Hydrans. Some would have gone to ground or be lost in the system. The raids would throw more fuel on the conflagration but they would just have to ride it and hope that in the long run the Hydrans would see that she was as good as her word and there could be a better future. She just wished that Grrndakegra was on board. She had a distinct feeling that Grrndakegra was actively working against her. But then what could she expect from a Beheggakegri appointment. ‘What is happening to all the Hydrans you are picking up?’ She asked, choosing a different tack. ‘We haven’t completed the lunar installations yet. The installations won’t be ready for weeks.’

‘Holding them in temporary camps,’ Grrndakegra replied almost gleefully. ‘Don’t worry your crest on that one. We’re taking good care of them.’

Chameakegra had her doubts but there was nothing she could say. This joint leadership presented enormous problems. She could not control things. Grrndakegra was a blot on her plans. She made a note to herself to put a jigger up the construction team. The soon the installations were complete the sooner she could prise the errant Hydrans away from Grrndakegra and begin to work on the reprogramming that she had devised. Just by looking at Grrndakegra’s gloating response she could tell she was up to no good. Chameakegra had the distinct feeling that those camps might be counterproductive. A cloud of doubt spread its gloom over her optimism. With hindsight this whole extraction operation seemed rushed. Why had they gone into this prematurely, before everything was fully prepared? That had been Grrndakegra. Was it just that Grrndakegra was a bit gung-ho or was there something more sinister behind it? Too many people wanted this to fail and she had more than a feeling that Grrndakegra was one of them.

‘What’s you next magic step?’ Grrndakegra asked mockingly. ‘Another speech to reassure our compliant Hydrans perhaps?’

‘Normality.’

‘What do you mean normality?’

‘It’s imperative that we get the Hydrans back to work, open the shops and allow normal discourse. Opening the offices and shops will be essential.’

‘Oh yes,’ Grrndakegra actually laughed, her blue deepening and crest rising, ‘I can’t wait to see how they all cope now that their bosses are all taken away and all the hierarchy has collapsed. No government to provide structure. Send them back and it’ll be chaos.’ She seemed delighted by the thought of that prospect.

‘Quite probably,’ Chameakegra replied evenly. ‘We shall see. And not all the bosses are gone – just the corrupt ones. It’ll be a bit of a test to see how the ones who are left handle the situation. Remove the bad loohs and the good loohs rise to the surface. Besides, we’ll lend them a hand.’

‘Or they flounder around and go to pieces without direction.’ Grrndakegra seemed to find that immensely amusing.

‘Some will. Some won’t.’ She was finding this exasperating. ‘They are intelligent and capable you know? They aren’t all corrupt and useless.’

Grrndakegra looked as if she didn’t believe that for one minute.

‘We’ll open up the work, set the transport hub operating and get the media working, under our supervision. We’ll provide support.’

‘That from the Neff then?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’ll work then. You’ve got a massive, well-trained crew and there won’t be too much need for support, will there?’ The tone suggested that Grrndakegra did not expect them to cope.

‘Neff will handle it. We’ll trouble shoot.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Grrndakegra was enjoying herself. ‘Meanwhile we’ll continue mopping up. See how many of the bredlethits we can track down.’

Chameakegra felt herself bridle at the use of the derogatory term but chose to let it ride. ‘We’ll set up an interim Hydran government to reassure the Hydrans that we will eventually leave them to govern themselves.’

A flood of mauve amusement rushed across Grrndakegra’s crest. ‘How you going to form that government given that the bulk of the politicians were among the first on the list?’

‘There were plenty left,’ Chameakegra replied. ‘We have expertise from every government from all over the planet, more than enough to form a global government. Not all of them were corrupt and useless.’

‘And who will lead this wonderful new institution?’

Chameakegra had thought long and hard about this. Who was fit and proper to lead the Hydrans into a new age? Neff had provided lists of well-suited individuals for all government positions. She certainly did not want to set up a similar structure as had failed in the past? Provide fertile ground for greed, nepotism and corruption to flourish? Or was it possible to create something better, built on idealism and altruism? Could she select the right people for the job? She had thoroughly scrutinised the lists Neff had provided her with and made some decisions. ‘We will place a creative in charge; someone who does not seek glory, power or wealth. The very desire to do the job would make them unelectable. We want someone who does not want to do the job.’

Grrndakegra found that highly amusing. She guffawed out loud.  It sounded to her like a sure recipe for failure. ‘Good luck with that.’ She seemed delighted with the way things were going and displayed no interest in involving herself. It filled Chameakegra with a greater determination.

Chameakegra studied the mail with interest. Was it telling her anything she did not already know?

‘Commander Chameakegra, thank you for keeping me in the loop and furnishing me with updates as to your progress. I fully concur with your strategy.  I do wonder if you haven’t started too early. It would have been better to have the facilities set up and rehabilitation started before the extraction. I’m sure those camps will create trauma that will make the process of restoration more difficult. I am intrigued as to whether these violent and avaricious tendencies are genetically ingrained in the species and whether those tendencies can be rectified. The Hydrans are certainly an interesting race and I quite agree with you that the creativity they exude is something that would be valuable to the Federation. I’m certainly enjoying their music and art. Good luck.’

‘One more thing: Beheggakegri seems very anxious to dissociate me from this experiment. I think he’s up to something. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t placed Commander Grrndakegra there to deliberately sabotage your scheme. Watch your back. Do not worry. I am staying on the case. I am here if you need me. Judge Booghramakegra.’

Surely Grrndakegra would not deliberately do anything too underhand? If that could be proved she’d lose everything. But then there were a thousand ways Grrndakegra could make it difficult without crossing any line. She could easily subvert the entire operation while seeming to be fully on board. Grrndakegra was Beheggakegri’s tool and she knew it. Could she do anything about it though? If Grrndakegra was intent on putting sand in the ointment she could jeopardise everything.

Chameakegra thought that it might be a good idea to check out those camps, get the lunar facilities up and running and press ahead with her strategy. The sooner she could get Grrndakegra away from anything she might cause mischief with the better. Chameakegra really wanted this to work. She was certain that the Hydrans could be rehabilitated. She was even more determined to stop Beheggakegri and Grrndakegra putting a puncture in the plasma field.

The Cleansing 16 – Chapter 6

Posted on by Opher

The original idea behind Judgement was to provide a vehicle to analyse the good and bad aspects of human civilisation. The idea behind The Cleansing was to suggest how the bad stuff could be remedied.

Chapter 6 – The Plan

Chameakegra sat in her quarters concentrating deep into her mind. How could she undo some of the damage done by the extractions? How could she soften Grrndakegra’s hard style? The Hydrans were now familiar with the look of Federation races, particularly Giforians and Drefs. She knew that their features produced terror. Hydran folklore was full of dragons, serpents and scaly worms. To them they appeared like creatures from their nightmares. Was there any way she could counter that? It seemed impossible.

What had been the effect of her first broadcast? The research seemed to suggest that not much had gone in at all. The Hydrans had been in total shock and were completely unreceptive. Neff’s great mind suggested that she should simply repeat the message. Hydrans found repetition reassuring. Psychologically it would help. But Neff intimated that there was no magic cure, no panacea. Sudden exposure to a superior technology always resulted in psychological turmoil. All that could be done was to keep repeating the same message and demonstrate the veracity of it through actions. That took time – a lot of time. Chameakegra took that on board.

The idea of her second broadcast was to put a little more flesh on the bones. She aimed to pick up the same points as last time and build on them.

‘People of Hydra,’ Commander Chameakegra spoke in her most soothing tone. This time she was allowing a close-up of her face taking care not to show her crest which she thought might still be too frightening for Hydrans to stomach. She was working on the principle that the Hydrans had seen the hordes of Giforian and Dref troopers on the street. The time for pretence was over. The best psychological ploy was to be completely transparent, lay out the reality and all the Hydrans to come to terms with what the situation was then they could start to come to terms with it. ‘I am Commander Chameakegra – the officer in charge of this assistance scheme. I am sure that you have been extremely frightened by what has happened. I can fully understand that. I can only repeat that we mean you no harm. What we are doing is in your best interests.’

Chameakegra peered out from billions of homes with a face that she hoped looked sincere. Hydrans had never seen alien races before so it was a big ask to expect apes to interpret saurian expressions and scaly faces were notoriously difficult to read. It was a risk. She pressed on. There was nothing she could do about that. Her scaly face was something they were going to have to get used to. She just hoped they could adjust quickly.

‘I would like to tell you something about us. We are a Federation of intelligent beings from all over the galaxy. Intelligent life is rare and our aim is to assist it to develop and prosper. This is not an invasion so much as an intervention. We are here to assist you to progress.’

Images of polluted areas and wars filled the screen.

‘Our investigations have concluded that action was necessary. You and your planet are teetering on the brink of catastrophe. Wars, violence, social breakdown and environmental disaster have taken you to the brink of disaster. We had no choice but to intervene.’

Chameakegra was hoping that the Hydrans were savvy enough to at least partially accept the truth of what she was saying. After all, she had heard it expressed all over the planet. Even though many of them turned a blind eye to it, or were in denial, most did recognise that things were hanging by a precarious thread.

‘We are briefly taking control of your planet. We have dismantled your military and suspended all forms of government. We have temporarily closed your media. Please do not be concerned. I will explain what we are going to do.’

This was the crux. Could they accept that it was necessary for the Federation to take over the planet? Could they psychologically come to terms with this invasion? She was projecting a pinky beige colour in order not to appear too outlandish. She guessed that a psychedelic face might just push them over the edge.

‘We have completely undone the tribal idea of nations. They will not be reinstated. In due course we will set up a global government which, in the future, will be run by yourselves for the benefit of all Hydrans. There will never again be the need for armies and military forces. There will never again be any more wars.’

Chameakegra thought that explanation was better. Even if they did not agree maybe they could understand the reasoning.

‘As for the members of this interim government we have assembled; we have replaced your democratic system with one based on ability. Instead of electing individuals into office, based on lies, charisma, promises, lust for power and greed, our supercomputer has studied the qualities of all eight billion Hydrans and selected people best suited to carry out the jobs based on their ability and character. All too often your democratic system has elected self-servers, liars, inept fools and thieves. That is largely why you were in the mess you were in. We have replaced the corrupt and ineffective with those most able and best suited to do a good job.’ Her face seemed to crinkle into a smile as she attempted to come across in a more informal manner. ‘Allow me to point out that if you were appointing anybody into an important role you would study their qualifications, experience and interview them to ascertain their views and character in order to select the most appropriate candidate for the role. Governing is the most important job in the world. You would not appoint them through an election.’

Chameakegra was attempting to look serious but benevolent. She wasn’t really certain how that might come across to Hydrans. This was the crux of her speech.

‘So, citizens of Hydra, we have made two moves that may cause you some consternation but which we believe are essential for your progress. We have given you a global government, unifying you under one overarching system and we have placed people of ability and integrity in charge.’

Here, she knew she was treading on some delicate psychological territory. Her investigations had led her to recognise how deep the tribal traits were embedded. Many Hydrans seemed intrinsically patriotic and nationalistic to the point of rabid xenophobic racism. The idea of their nation being done away with altogether would be utterly abhorrent. Would the prospect of there being no more wars be sufficient to bring them on board? The camera zoomed in to focus on her eyes, eyes that were not dissimilar to that of Hydrans, apart from the brightness of their colour, vulnerable eyes that she hoped might project compassion and verity. She hoped that they could see those emotions.

It was time to grasp another thorny issue and clear the table.

‘You will have seen that we have taken away numerous individuals and I am sure this has caused you a great deal of fear. Do not be concerned. We have identified all the people who, for one reason or another, are responsible for the precarious state of your world. These are the people who have displayed malevolent levels of greed, lust for power or violence, or have obvious psychological, emotional and anti-social behaviour traits. I repeat do not be concerned. They will be returned to you unharmed. It was necessary to remove them so that we could carry out the cleansing. They will come back rehabilitated with their empathy and compassion fully restored so that they can perform positive roles in your society. We aim to leave you with a vibrant, happy, well-adjusted and productive society that no longer takes you to the brink of extinction.’

At least it might allay some of their fears and give them hope. She knew their imaginations were probably conjuring up scenes of torture and murder. This might help allay some of those fears though she was aware that she might be reopening wounds and feeding fires. She allowed a reddish tint to spread over the scales of her face, softening it, providing warmth and indicating a positive emotion. It had to be said.

‘We have a clear vision for the future. One that will make you prosperous and happy and enable your progress into a new age of science and technology. The stars await you. After we have restored your government we will overhaul your other institutions so that they function properly and enable your society and culture to reach its potential and assume a leading role in the Federation.’

Providing hope for the future was essential if they were going to progress. She tried to present a sincere expression that she hoped they might be able to decipher. From her experience Hydrans were good at interpreting facial expressions, though the Giforian features were nowhere near as malleable as those of Hydrans.

‘We will take steps to overhaul our industry and energy production so that it is no longer polluting and damaging to the environment. We will clean up your rivers and seas, improve the quality of your soil and air and restore the biosphere to the dynamic state it should be in.’

Chameakegra was confident that this would appeal to a sizeable number of Hydrans and find a majority in favour. Her investigations had shown the state of the environment to be a major concern. Her big eyes shone out hypnotically as she paused between each element. She wanted them to take in the gist of what she was saying even if, in their present state of turmoil, they were unable to retain the detail. This exercise was all about the long, slow process of building trust. Chameakegra herself had to believe. She had to believe one hundred percent that at the end of this process the Hydrans were both capable and worthy of being saved and Hydra had a great future. She could not allow herself to think for an instant that Beheggakegri might get his way, the Hydrans eradicated and all this in vain. Not for a second. She exuded sincerity.

‘We will make education a priority in order that young minds are nurtured and expanded so they can reach their creative best.’

Everyone cared about their kids. Surely this was another important area to emphasise. She resisted the desire to raise her hands to emphasise the words. The last thing that Hydrans needed was to be shown an image of Giforian claws. Not at this stage.

‘We will enable a care system so that the weak are supported and greatly improve your health systems with all manner of preventative and remedial technology. This will enable you to cure many of your present-day maladies, rectify genetic flaws and prevent many diseases that you presently suffer from so that you can all flourish. We will provide treatments to cure your various addictions, addictions to drugs, alcohol, sex and gambling so that your societies will be healthier.’

This too might help to paint a positive vision of what was to come that might win a number of Hydrans over.

‘We aim to give you the means to improve your infrastructure and housing so that the quality of everyone’s lives will improve greatly. When the resources of your planet are more evenly distributed, far less is wasted on destructive warfare, and the innovations on technology and science have been introduced all your lives will be transformed.’

Chameakegra’s image hung there in all its glory. She could only hope that she had done enough. She had tried to sell them a vision of a glowing future. She had to hope that they could absorb it and see the benefits. Could this vision of a fabulous future compensate for the fears and shock of this encounter and upheaval? Time would tell. At least it was a start. She smiled benignly out at them radiating peace and hope.

The picture faded away.

The Cleansing 16 – Chapter 5 continued

Posted on by Opher

I like to ground my Sci-fi in the present time. In this novel I introduced myself, under the Ron Forsythe alias, as a character. That was fun.

The novel itself is an objective view of humanity in which I attempt to dissect the good and the bad and delve into the reasons.

Here’s Chapter 5:

Ron lived on a mixed estate. There were people from all walks of life. He liked to associate with creative people and live in a rural environment. Nature and creativity were important to him, but pleasant surrounds were sought after by many different types of people. Down his street there were people from many professions.

The night was one of those clear, bright nights, the type where the stars are visible as a glimmering scattering of glistening salt on a black velvet cloth. The moon, almost full, lit everything up with its blue light, creating pools of inky shadow. The absence of street lamps enabled the beauty of the scene to be appreciated in full. Ron cherished such nights and probably got to appreciate them more than most. He always worked late at night, when it was quiet and inspiration struck, not finishing until tiredness stilled his fingers on the keyboard and his sponge of a brain had been wrung dry. After shutting down his computer he would often get himself a last cup of coffee and take the dog out for a walk. Woody, named after his idol Woody Guthrie, was a loyal, loving border collie who did not like other dogs. He was wont to get his retaliation in first. Thus it was preferable to take him for walks when other dogs were not around. Ron often remarked that Woody thought outside was permanently dark.

Ron’s writer’s block had lifted and a new storyline had magically coalesced in his head. While strolling down the road towards the lane, lost in thought, mulling over the twists in the plot, he was brought up short by Woody’s sudden aggressive reaction. He had frozen, ears back, hackles up and fur bristling, growling and staring straight ahead. Ron immediately shortened the lead and peered ahead at the moonlit street. If there was another dog they’d be in for a loud barking match, which might not please the neighbours any too well, it being close to three in the morning.

There was no dog. What Woody was seeing was a large black shadow rapidly approaching, accompanied by a deep subdued throbbing. Ron pulled Woody in and grabbed him by the collar as the craft silently passed overhead and hovered a little way down the road. He knew exactly what it was: one of those alien ships. He watched as it seemed to make up its mind and arrived at its destination. It rapidly descended. As soon as it hit the ground large doorways dilated open and a number of lizard troopers spilled out. It was as clear as daylight. Woody barked madly and had to be restrained with all of Ron’s might. The lizards ignored Ron and Woody. They split into two contingents, one group making a beeline for George’s place, the other a little further down, focusing on Jean and Dean’s house. Without hesitation the doors were booted in and they disappeared inside. Ron stood agape, frozen, staring at the scene taking place in front of him while absently trying to calm Woody, patting his head as he lunged at his collar.

Screams could be heard from inside both houses. Within seconds the lizards reappeared, dragging George and Jean to their craft while a desperate Dean yelled, screamed, and pulled at them, trying to free Jean from their clutches. They brushed him aside like one might bat away an annoying wasp. The two were bundled into the craft, the doors dilated shut, and the craft lifted off and was gone, leaving a distraught Dean in its wake. Ron couldn’t quite believe what he had just seen. Apart from a hysterical Dean, now crumpled sobbing in the street, and two splintered doors hanging half open, there was nothing to suggest it had really happened. He shook his head to wake himself up and released the now‑submissive Woody.

Coming out of his trance, Ron rushed forward to comfort the stricken Dean, helping him up while Woody stood watching with his tail wagging. He obviously considered this a much more interesting walk than normal.

Back in Ron’s kitchen the two men were seated at the table, mugs of strong tea in their hands, while a satisfied Woody coiled up in his bed contented. As far as he was concerned the fun was over. Dean was still shaking.
‘What the fuck was that about?’ Ron asked.
Dean shook his head and was about to collapse into a blubbering wreck again. Ron patted his hand.
‘They’ve taken Jean,’ he wailed, unable to say anything more.
‘But why have they taken Jean?’ Ron muttered largely rhetorically, utterly bewildered by the events he had witnessed.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know,’ Dean wailed miserably. He turned to Ron with a face creased in anguish. ‘What will they do to her? Will I see her again?’ With that he descended into a whimpering heap.

Ron did his best to console the man. In truth they hardly knew each other. They moved in very different circles. But they were neighbours, and neighbours looked out for each other.

What was going on out there? Why had they taken Jean and George? They were hardly desperate criminals, were they? Was this the start? Would they be coming for everyone else soon? This was all taking a nasty turn. He put an arm around the sobbing Dean’s shoulder and told him it was OK; it was all going to turn out alright.

Despite the clear instructions that they were to stay in their own homes, the Ashley Arms crew broke the curfew and furtively made their way back to the pub. It felt like a refuge. With no TV or radio to provide news bulletins they had nothing to go by. In their part of town the abductions were few. None of them had actually witnessed an abduction, though they had all seen the alien craft flying back and forth overhead but could not see what was happening. Vague screaming could be heard in the distance — enough to scare them silly.

‘Something’s up,’ Billy observed, peering out of the window at the sky as another alien craft shot past.
‘Come away from that bloody window,’ Nobby the landlord ordered. ‘I don’t want you drawing bloody attention to us.’
Reluctantly Billy pulled himself away and rearranged the curtains.
‘They’re up to something,’ he growled, glaring around at the others.

The kids were having a time of it, racing around the pub, giggling and laughing oblivious to what was going on. There was no school and a new playground. What was not to like? Besides, for some reason they were being given unlimited crisps and pop.

‘Seems there are all sorts going on,’ Foxy remarked, trawling through his phone. All the media was down, but the phones were miraculously still working, and people all over the world were finding ways of evading the censorship and putting up snippets of various scenes of abduction, most of which were very disturbing. Doors were being smashed in and lizards emerging with struggling people. ‘They’re dragging people off.’
‘I think we can see that,’ Cheryl observed cuttingly.

The mood was grim as all of them started scrolling through the disturbing scenes that had begun springing up on their phones. Debbie looked to be on the verge of tears and was trying to hold it together.
‘At least we’ve still got power on,’ Kathy remarked, desperately trying to put a positive slant on things and looking to divert attention onto something else.
‘Where do you think they’re taking them?’ John muttered, glancing up from his phone. The abductions seemed to be taking place all over the world.

‘Who fucking knows,’ Billy growled, scrolling from one distressing scene to another as they popped up on his phone.
‘They seem to be focusing on all the wealthy areas,’ Foxy noted, observing the nature of the houses the lizards were targeting.

Everyone started to check that out. Foxy was right.
‘Right,’ Denby acknowledged, ‘they do.’

‘Do you think they’ll be coming for all of us?’ Charlene put into words what they were all thinking.
‘I don’t reckon so,’ Billy muttered, concentrating on his phone. ‘They look to be picking up all the rich bastards.’
‘Might just be the first phase,’ John remarked chillingly.
‘But what are they doing with them?’ Cheryl wondered.

‘What did that lizard say about it in that broadcast of hers?’ Denby asked, trying to think back to the night before. They’d all been so shocked that much of it hadn’t really gone in.

Everyone stared at Denby as they tried to recall what had been said.
‘I think that lizard said something about them taking away the ones responsible for causing the trouble,’ Debbie said thoughtfully. ‘And that we weren’t to worry. They would be returned unharmed.’
‘Yeah,’ Denby said. ‘I’ll take that with a pinch of salt.’

‘Sounds pretty lame if you fucking ask me,’ Billy muttered. ‘How do they know who’s causing trouble? I bet that’s just an excuse.’
‘It’ll be us next,’ Charlene muttered morbidly.

They all turned her way. The same thoughts were going through their heads.
‘Fucking hell,’ Denby growled, ‘this is a right mess.’

The Cleansing 14 – Chapter 4 continued

Posted on by Opher

Introducing a little intrigue and dissent can boost the interest.

This Sci-fi novel has a lot of satire and a firm social footing:

Chameakegra had watched the broadcast from the bridge of the Neff with a critical eye, trying to imagine how it might be impacting the Hydran population. No sooner was it over than her communicator buzzed. The image of Grrndakegra appeared floating in the air before her. She was smiling broadly, though not in a manner Chameakegra found particularly pleasant. The tilt of her jaw and set of her eyes seemed to betray a mocking air. The image hung in the air grinning at Chameakegra for long seconds before she deigned to speak.
‘I watched the broadcast,’ she finally sneered. ‘Very reassuring. I am certain the Hydrans found it suitably uplifting.’

Grrndakegra nodded her head slowly, the grin fading into a steely stare.
‘Just to keep you informed; operation extraction begins in one hour.’

The image hung in the air for a second or two more before fading without Chameakegra able to respond.

‘What do you reckon to that then?’ Foxy muttered, nervously glancing round at the others as the screen faded to black.

They’d all assembled at the Ashley Arms to watch the broadcast. As one might expect, there was a strange atmosphere about the place, a tension like the air was full of electricity. Everyone was terrified but attempting to put on a brave face.

Out on the streets the eerie reptiles with their plastic uniforms and stun guns had faded into the background, but they were still there. Many of the craft had landed, though some still hung in the sky. For the Ashley Arms gang it felt as if they were trapped in a scary hiatus. Nobody knew what was going to happen next. The tension was palpable. Something was about to happen. It felt like they were sitting on a heap of gelignite and the slightest movement could set it off. Everybody spoke in hushed tones with sly glances in all directions. There was no getting away from the fact that they had been invaded. What was uncertain was what the lizards’ next move might be. They’d been hoping the broadcast might shed a little light on that.

The Ashley Arms had seemed a good choice for them to get together. At least when they were together they felt more secure. They were thankful that Nobby had opened up for his regulars. They needed a refuge. Nobody wanted to be on their own. No news was coming through the normal channels, which only served to make things worse. The radio and TV had stopped broadcasting. All you could get during the day was static. It was far too frightening a time to be isolated. They’d grabbed the kids, contacted their parents and relatives to reassure them, to let them know where they were, and comfort them with the thought that it would all be OK in the end and they weren’t to worry, and headed for the safety of togetherness at the Ash. All they could do now was wait.

The alien broadcast might tell them more. They had very mixed emotions – hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

‘I don’t know,’ John muttered despondently. The whole world had come to a stop. His bus was no longer running. The shops were all closed. Nobody was going into work. Everything was at a standstill holding its breath. He did not know what he was supposed to do.

‘All bullshit,’ Billy stated angrily. ‘They are trying to keep us fucking quiet while they tighten their control.’

‘Where the fuck’s the army?’ Denby snarled. ‘Why didn’t they at least try to blow those bastards to kingdom come?’

‘They say they’re coming in peace,’ Debbie said rather hopefully.

‘They all say that,’ Denby muttered morbidly, taking a swig. ‘What’s all that stuff about removing people? Who are they removing? And taking away our countries. I tell you, these fuckers are up to no good.’ He waved his glass in the air.

‘Have you seen the size of those fuckers?’ Foxy looked aghast. ‘They’re bloody ginormous.’

Cheryl glanced nervously out the window. ‘There’s not much any of us can do. I reckon we just have to grin and bear it.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Charlene remarked, drawing her shawl tightly around her and sipping her chardonnay, ‘until the friggin’ food runs out.’

‘Maybe everything’ll open up tomorrow?’ John remarked hopefully, looking round at everyone with hopeful eyes. ‘They’ve messaged me from work. Everything’s on standby.’

‘They never said anything about when we’re going back to normality in that fucking broadcast,’ Foxy remarked.

‘Well the shops better be opening soon,’ Charlene remarked, drawing herself up haughtily, clutching her shawl to her and tilting her head. ‘They’ll be nowt to eat.’

‘Stopped serving food here,’ Foxy remarked with a wistful look at the bar.

‘Be grateful that you got your beer,’ Kathy remarked. ‘Might not have that for too much longer.’

They all went quiet, contemplating the future and wondering.

‘We’re bloody English,’ Billy suddenly spouted. ‘You know, never ever ever will be slaves. We shouldn’t be sitting here doing nowt. This is a fucking invasion. We should be out there doing something! Protesting and kicking up hell!’

They all stared at him.

Fortunately Beheggakegri had not mentioned the Judge again. Perhaps he had forgotten? Sang knew he could not be so lucky. Beheggakegri never forgot. It was merely that the Judge had not come to his attention for a while and he’d been focused on other issues. When she did loom back into his attention it would likely elicit another explosion that Sang would find himself in the impact zone of. He searched around for a solution and came up with a possibility.

Probably a long shot, but one that might possibly prove tempting enough.
‘Judge Booghramakegra, we are in grave need of a Judge to preside over an extremely exacting judgement in Extol 3. You may have heard of the complicated situation regarding the conflict between two advanced civilisations, both individually worthy of entry into the Federation but both showing loathing and aggression towards each other – a very complex and difficult judgement. The case has featured very prominently in the galactic media. As it is such an intriguing situation I am certain that you have been following it.’
‘Unfortunately, Judge Forcasi has unexpectedly died leaving the judgement hanging. We require an experienced Judge to pick up the threads and solve the impasse. You appear to be the only available Judge capable of dealing with the issue. – Sang – Deputy Head UFOR.’

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278910817: Books

Judgement: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798267855549: Books

The Cleansing 12 – Chapter 3 continued

Posted on by Opher

In this novel I was using a number of different settings with political intrigue to create tension and interest. There was always an element of where was this heading? What was going to happen? I also had to develop the personalities of the personnel involved.

Sang thought long and hard about the message he was sending to Judge Booghramakegra. It was one thing for Beheggakegri to make his incandescent demands and quite another to deal with a Judge. He could not go in there making demands. He at least knew that, even if Beheggakegri didn’t. Judges were powerful. You didn’t mess with them. It required diplomacy — a concept that didn’t exist in Beheggakegri’s repertoire.
‘Judge Booghramakegra, now that your judgement has been completed regarding the Hydrans, Beheggakegri, Head of UFOR, has requested that I contact you. He is of the opinion that your continued presence might actually impede the operation by deflecting time and attention away from the task of reprogramming the Hydrans so they can be incorporated into the Federation. – Sang – Deputy Leader UFOR.’
He hoped that was respectful enough.

‘Grrndakegra,’ Beheggakegri growled. He dispensed with titles and formalities. ‘Listen, I want that vecal Chameakegra put in her place, you understand? That’s what I’ve put you in there for.’

Commander Grrndakegra bristled. She did not like anybody adopting that superior tone with her. She was used to due deference. She did not need talking to like a child. She knew why she’d been selected for this role. Beheggakegri wanted the Hydrans dispensed with and Chameakegra put back in her box. She worked that out for herself and she could see why. Chameakegra, with her namby‑pamby ways, was an insult to the profession. She’d be glad to take her down with all her highfalutin ideas. What the Federation needed was clear, no‑nonsense policies. They didn’t need crackpot idealism, but the way Beheggakegri was going about this was annoying.
‘I get the message.’ Her reply was terse. Beheggakegri’s overbearing manner was so irritating it put her off wanting to do what he wanted. The less interaction she had with the man the better. She certainly did not need bossing about.

‘As for that drangled Judge, ignore her. We’ll sort her out from this end. This business with these Hydrans should have been settled long ago. They are vermin. You only have to look at what they are doing. They’ve destroyed that planet and they are destroying themselves.’

Commander Grrndakegra did not need telling. She’d spent time scanning through the terrible footage of war and destruction. They were obviously a blight that required eradicating quickly before the disease spread. She really couldn’t see what Chameakegra saw in them. The last thing the Federation needed was a bunch of psychotic apes. She agreed with Beheggakegri even if he was an obnoxious cretin. He just needed to shut the drang up and allow her to get on with the job.

‘Make sure those Hydrans get what they deserve and that vecal fool is made to look the idiot she is,’ Beheggakegri insisted.
‘You can count on me. I’m on the case.’

When the link was broken Grrndakegra had to remain sitting calmly until her equanimity returned to normal and the colours had stopped flowing over her scutes. Beheggakegri always had that effect on her — how that piece of atrbus excrement had got to where he was remained a mystery. Still, there was a job to be done and she was relishing it. She had to put Beheggakegri out of her mind. He might be a pathetic blob of lard but his assessment of Chameakegra and the Hydrans seemed spot on. She did not need commands from the like of him.

‘Sang, please inform Beheggakegri that I have no intention of distancing myself from the fascinating experiment at Hydra. I am intrigued to see how this operation proceeds and feel that it has big implications for future judgements. – Judge Booghramakegra.’ Sang read the reply with a sense of dread. He puffed out his cheeks. Not something he had any desire to pass on to Beheggakegri, but he knew he had to.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278910817: Books

The Cleansing 11 – Chapter 3

Posted on by Opher

Sorting the plot for this novel to provide twists and turns was fun. This social/political satire is a reflection on the state of the world we have created but I wanted it to be a good read too!

Chapter 3 – Control and Lack of Control

Beheggakegri called a special meeting of the United Federation of Races committee. The damn time lapse in receiving information from Grrndakegra was proving a major problem. How could he possibly control things with this degree of waiting? By the time he received updates, the situation on Hydra had probably changed. If it hadn’t meant leaving the luxury of his beloved luxoservo Lomi with its unique dainties and quality psychosynth, he might have been tempted to make the trip himself. But he knew he couldn’t justify that. The Federal Administration would start asking questions. Hydra was just a pimple on the backside of the Federation. There were countless other nifts he was meant to be frying. His personal vendetta against Commander Chameakegra and her pet judge was no justification. The central council did not share his views. To them Hydra was a minor problem. Beheggakegri had plenty more issues to oversee than one tiny planet stuck out in the middle of nowhere. He was left frustrated.

‘Why is that drangling Judge getting herself involved?’ Beheggakegri railed, glaring around at the committee as if it were their fault. His eyes locked on Sang.

Sang knew what was coming. He saturated his epidermis in preparation and met Beheggakegri’s gaze. ‘She has sent us a communique stating that this case is so interesting she has decided to take a sabbatical and participate in the experiment.’

‘Participate in the experiment?’ Beheggakegri repeated in disbelief. ‘It’s none of her drangling business. Order her to keep her snout out of our drangling stuff!’

‘Actually,’ the Achec Zenn interceded, ‘she has a right to remain involved. It is enshrined in the constitution. Our claws are entangled.’

Beheggakegri rounded on him with a glare that threatened to melt titanium. ‘What drangling constitution??’ He turned back to Sang. ‘You drangling tell that dull‑scuted apology for a Judge to clear off. We are dealing with this.’

‘I’ll try,’ Sang replied calmly, already formulating the wording of a diplomatic request, ‘but I rather feel she won’t take any notice.’

‘Just order her!’ Beheggakegri bellowed.

‘We might be on more secure ground asking politely,’ the Jerbian Debo suggested tactfully.

‘Yes, we’re on very dodgy legal ground issuing orders to Judges,’ Bark the Marlan added.

Beheggakegri seemed ready to explode. The bulging flesh protruding between his scutes throbbed like an overripe godelberry. Colours raced across his plates in a manic psychedelic rainbow. Somehow he regained speech. ‘I don’t care how you do it. Just get that drangling Judge out of there!’

Grrndakegra thought she looked suitably impressive, decked out in her finest. Her image was beamed through every TV set on Hydra. They had seized every transmitter; the alien broadcast was the only game in town. Everyone wanted to hear what the invaders had to say.

She could not have believed her words would calm and reassure the terrified population. If she had, she was utterly wrong. If she meant to terrify, the Hydran reaction must have pleased her immensely. The sight of a giant gaudily coloured lizard with a crest, fangs, a bright blue forked tongue, and piercing green eyes was enough to send Hydrans into paroxysms of fear. To them she was a nightmare made flesh. Her voice, which she must have thought soothing as ordered by Judge Booghramakegra, barked from receivers like the growl of a rabid grizzly. Far from reassuring, it sent Hydran minds into frenzy. Many fainted outright. The visual impact of an adult Giforian in full regalia was petrifying. Who cared what she said? They had been invaded by dragons. Who knew what might happen? These aliens probably feasted on babies and barbequed people for fun.

Chameakegra watched the performance from the Neff’s bridge. Feeds poured in from across Hydra. This was not going well. She shook her scaly head. If only Grrndakegra had consulted instead of rushing in. This would be hard to recover from. Not the best of starts. But perhaps that was the point. Was Grrndakegra doing Beheggakegri’s bidding?

Commander Chameakegra mailed Grrndakegra to formally inform her of her intention to visit. The response was brief and less than welcoming. Grrndakegra was available for a thirty‑minute window at 10 hundred hours. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Chameakegra accepted.

Travelling alone in the shuttle, she was cleared for docking. Her entry onto Quorma was a far cry from the reception Grrndakegra had received on Neff. As the airlock dilated, a young female Dref waited to escort her directly to Grrndakegra’s quarters. Chameakegra struggled to hide her annoyance. No welcoming committee. It felt like an insult. It was an insult.

Grrndakegra’s quarters were Spartan and utilitarian. The Dref was dismissed. Chameakegra gestured to a pexi beside a low mense while Grrndakegra dealt with a ‘pressing’ matter on her comulator. After a few minutes she reluctantly dragged herself away and joined Chameakegra. No refreshments were offered.

Grrndakegra stared questioningly.

‘I thought it important that we liaise and formulate a policy on the best way to proceed,’ Chameakegra opened, keeping her tone neutral. She did not want to suggest Grrndakegra’s opening moves had been a disaster. That was self‑evident.

Grrndakegra looked puzzled. ‘I cannot see what there is to discuss or liaise on,’ she replied. Chameakegra thought she could already detect slight ripples of yellow annoyance in her scutes.
‘I think that the approach we take in dealing with the Hydrans will largely determine whether the mission succeeds or fails,’ Chameakegra insisted.

Grrndakegra looked even more confused. ‘The sequence is laid out. It is clear. We move in, take over all military, political and media institutions, and restore order. We’ve done that. Now we begin the process of moving forward. We dissolve all nations, set up a global government, begin to introduce a suitable education programme, and remove the errant Hydrans. Couldn’t be clearer. That is what I was initiating when you interrupted me.’

Chameakegra was shocked at the abruptness of the response. ‘Surely you can see that unless we actually take the population with us this will be doomed to fail?’

Grrndakegra shrugged. ‘They will either find themselves worthy or not. It’s of no consequence to me either way.’

‘Don’t you want to facilitate some rehabilitation and introduction to the Federation?’

Grrndakegra looked pensive but no pink tinge invaded her scutes. ‘Once we have removed the troublesome element, done away with the absurd archaic tribalism, and introduced a suitable education programme, I think it is largely in the hands of the Hydrans.’

‘But you are overlooking the emotional make‑up of these Hydrans. You are inviting opposition.’

‘It goes without saying that we will overhaul their energy production and industry. We will remove all pollution and cordon off areas of the natural habitat so that the ecosystems can mend. That will soon create a great improvement in their living conditions. No Hydrans will be starving or living in poverty. The air and water will be uncontaminated. The planet will replenish itself.’ Grrndakegra looked genuinely perplexed. If she was acting she was doing a good job. She appeared as if she really could not see what the problem was. ‘They will soon understand that things are far better under our control. Then we will see what they are made of.’

For a number of seconds Chameakegra sat and stared at Grrndakegra, not quite knowing how to respond. Was she really so ignorant or was she deliberately trying to sabotage the whole experiment? She had to at least assume that she was genuine. ‘We need to work together. I know the Hydrans. I’ve studied them, moved around in their societies. I understand what makes them tick. Take last night. That could have gone much more smoothly if you had consulted with me.’

The yellow ripple of annoyance gave way to a clear burst of green displeasure, though Chameakegra could see a slight pink of thoughtful consideration. ‘Yesterday proceeded very smoothly,’ Grrndakegra responded, an edge of anger and defiance dominating the clipped tones. ‘We successfully took over all strategic sites without opposition. We placed ourselves firmly in control and restored order. The first phase was completed without incident.’

‘That is as maybe,’ Chameakegra was attempting to find a conciliatory way forward. ‘But your subsequent broadcast failed to reduce Hydran fears and establish a way forward. It frightened the life out of them. Surely you can see that?’

Grrndakegra bristled, deep waves of green rippled over her scutes and her crest reared with a distinct warning white. ‘The broadcast was necessary to establish our control.’

‘Yes, but it did not need to be as frightening for the Hydrans. So frightening that they did not listen to what you had to say.’

Grrndakegra looked genuinely confused. Waves of black bewilderment began marching over her crest. If this was an act she deserved an award.

Chameakegra had to give her the benefit of doubt. ‘For Hydrans the sight of a large Giforian is a terrifying spectacle.’

Grrndakegra raised her palms. ‘But they have to get used to the sight of Giforians, Drefs, Achecs and the rest. We are here. We have taken over.’

‘But that could be done gradually. For that first broadcast, if you had kept what is to them a terrifying image out of the way, you might have had a calming effect. You could have talked to them and they would have listened. It was an opportunity to explain the benefits and reassure them that we are benevolent and mean them no harm. It was an opportunity to set a tone and allay their fears. They might not all have been won over, but it would not have exacerbated the problem.’

Grrndakegra shrugged again and slumped back with a grim look on her face. She regarded Chameakegra sternly. ‘We have invaded their planet and taken over. Do you really expect them to welcome us with open claws? They have to get used to it.’

‘No, I don’t expect them to welcome us, but I don’t believe we have to terrify them into submission,’ Chameakegra asserted, meeting Grrndakegra’s disparaging stare. ‘I am not thinking about the immediate situation. I’m projecting further into the future. If we handle this right and they come to see our take‑over as beneficial and short‑term, then I think we have a good chance of creating what I would consider to be a good outcome.’

Grrndakegra glared at her, daring her to put that outcome into words.

‘I want them developing their positive side and shucking off the negative attributes so that they can legitimately find a place in the Federation.’

‘Why?’ Grrndakegra seemed genuinely bemused.

Chameakegra gathered her thoughts. ‘Because I believe that at their best they are more than worthy. They are vibrant and creative and have a great deal to bring to the Federation.’

Grrndakegra seemed to consider that. ‘Hmmm, you are truly an idealist,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t say that I’ve seen any of those positive attributes that you speak of. They seem rather a weak, craven race to me, but I’ll take your word for it.’

Chameakegra took that as a step forward. ‘All I am suggesting is that we work closely together and you allow me an opinion in how things are carried out. I think that’s important.’

A distinct wave of mauve amusement flowed across Grrndakegra’s scutes as she smiled across at Chameakegra. ‘Alright then. What’s there to lose?’ They rattled claws.

‘I am sorting the arrangements for the separation. The techs have nearly completed the lunar facilities. I am going to start the process of extraction. Any suggestion on how that should proceed?’

Chameakegra ignored the condescending tone. The process of extracting the abhorrent elements was going to be ugly. She knew that but could see no way around it. They had to extract the poison before the wounds could heal. She had no advice to offer.
‘No. I don’t see any way of carrying out that operation painlessly. We have identified the individuals for extraction. We have furnished you with them. We just have to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.’

Grrndakegra looked surprised. She had been expecting some kind of namby‑pamby protest.
‘I would like to draft a broadcast though. Something that will set out clearly what we intend to do and lay the groundwork for a future relationship,’ Chameakegra added.
‘I’ve no objection to that,’ Grrndakegra smiled.

The Cleansing 10 – end of Chapter 2

Posted on by Opher

As this book is set in the present with the arrival of an alien race with superior technology I wanted to use a group of working class Reform voting characters and their reaction to the arrival of aliens.

The novel deals with the social and political stupidities of human civilisation juxtaposed with the brilliance of our creativity.

This is the end of Chapter 2:

Grrndakegra’s scutes flared yellow with flashes of white. Anger mounted. Chameakegra had outflanked her — inexcusable. ‘Beheggakegri will not like this. Not at all.’

Chameakegra shrugged, sipping her synth with deliberate calm, taking pleasure in Grrndakegra’s discomfort. Petty, perhaps, but satisfying. The Judge held power. Beheggakegri would have to lump it. Yet she knew annoying Grrndakegra could prove costly. The Giforian could wreck things simply by how instructions were carried out.

Grrndakegra sat bolt upright, waves of green and white obvious. ‘You have gone behind our backs.’

‘Not the way I see it,’ Chameakegra simpered, sipping her synth. ‘I have detailed knowledge of these Hydrans. It was necessary to clarify instructions from Beheggakegri. The situation is not black and white.’ She noted Grrndakegra’s disquiet with a degree of pleasure. She had not taken to her at all. The haughtiness was infuriating. But for the mission’s sake she needed control. Annoying Grrndakegra would not help. ‘We must give the Hydrans the best chance of progressing,’ she insisted firmly. ‘Too heavy‑handed and we create predictable failure. Judge Booghramakegra agrees they need all possible assistance. She has decided to retain an active role throughout.’

Chameakegra left that thinly veiled threat dangling.

Grrndakegra’s fangs clicked, tail twitching as white anger coursed through her crest and scales. Beheggakegri would not like this. This was not how it was meant to proceed. She slammed her beaker down so hard half the contents leapt into the air. ‘I will discuss this with Beheggakegri.’

The coming of the aliens was not so much an invasion as a take‑over.

One moment the skies were clear, the next they were full of alien craft. No warning. No sign on even the most sophisticated radar systems. They arrived in an instant, leaving no time to react.

Every military site across the globe was seized at once. All weapons nullified. No shots fired. Government offices, political bodies, media outlets — occupied. The invasion was peaceful and instant, or at least as peaceful as possible.

The shock was profound. In seconds the Hydrans went from ordinary routines to victims of alien occupation. Disbelief collapsed into hysteria. Chaos was far from peaceful.

Grrndakegra found it immensely amusing. Hydrans rushed like headless giffors, cowering, gathering offspring, crashing vehicles in panic. Everyday rules evaporated. Traffic lights, speed limits, even which side of the road to drive on — discarded. Cities gridlocked, screams and wails prevailing.

In full regimental costume, Grrndakegra appeared on every network and device. Speaking via her comulator in every language and dialect, she instructed the population to go home and await further orders. They were now under Federation control. As an afterthought, she reassured them they were safe.

The sight of a huge iridescent reptile giving orders did little to reassure. Panic intensified. Mobs rampaged, buildings burned, vehicles overturned, shops looted. Fear turned to anger, destruction the outlet.

From her vantage on the Quorma, Grrndakegra shook her head. Were these beings truly candidates for Federation entry? She flapped her crest in disbelief and barked orders.

More craft landed, troops spilling onto streets armed with weapons that stunned and immobilised. Order was restored, though the presence of reptilian aliens with guns did little to calm terror.

Grrndakegra announced she would address every parliament and governing institution that evening. Again she reassured them: no harm intended, only assistance toward a better existence. In the meantime, they were to return home and wait. Few were reassured.

Hydrans struggled to believe giant lizards wielding guns meant peace. Where was the army? Where was defence? Why was nobody coming to their rescue? Communications networks flooded with hysteria. It was the end of the world.

By evening, calm returned. No signs of violence, mobs dispersed, alien troops on guard. Rioters had been stunned and carted off, not killed. The aliens weren’t pillaging. They were keeping order.

Escape was impossible. Transport hubs shut down, highways closed. People gathered kin, huddled around media devices, waiting. Politicians silent, news frozen. All they could do was wait.

Many turned to churches, mosques, temples, praying for divine intervention. Most simply went home. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

As time passed, hope flickered. Perhaps these reptiles meant no harm. Not that there was choice. Military forces were no match. The Hydrans had been overpowered without a bullet fired.

There were no choices left. They waited.

Ron sat at his computer, trying to conjure a character, an event, a scene — anything. He was beginning to think he had writer’s block. The synapses weren’t firing. He desperately needed something to spark a chain reaction, the torrent of ideas that usually toppled inside his head like electric dominoes. Not today. Not this week. Not last week. His head was empty.

Perhaps he should give up on a new book and edit one already produced. Desperate. He disliked editing. Unlike the satisfaction of imagination flowing onto the page, editing was a chore.

Worse still, Liz had urged him for years to promote his published books. That idea filled him with horror. Wasting writing time on tedious commercial exercise? No. If nothing happened soon, he would have to send another package to agents and publishers. They could do the promotion. Surely he had proved himself? He was a proven writer. There was a market. All he needed was an agent or publisher to handle the tiresome tasks and leave him to write.

Except nothing was happening. No epic waited to burst out of his chest like a xenomorph. Nothing to write about.

That’s when Ron glanced out the window and saw an armada of alien craft descending from the sky.

‘What the fuck??’ exclaimed Billy Smythe, mouth open, eyes wide, pint spilling over his lap unnoticed. Everyone stared out the pub windows at the strange craft materialising above.

‘Fuck,’ Charlene mumbled.

‘Fuck!’ John, Debbie, Foxy, Kathy, Denby, and Cheryl exclaimed in unison.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Denby gasped, staring at the gigantic craft hovering in the sky directly above them. You could always count on Denby to be more articulate than anyone else.

It had to be some kind of stunt. Surely it had to be a stunt.

But the silence in the Ashley Arms told another story. No laughter, no banter, no clinking of glasses. Just the stunned hush of ordinary people watching the impossible unfold.

Above them, the alien leviathans hung motionless, blotting out the heavens. Hydra had changed forever.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278910817: Books

Judgement: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798267858489: Books

The Cleansing 9 – Chapter 2 continued

Posted on by Opher

This novel provided me with the opportunity to examine human society and the crazy way we have been behaving. Questions we have to ask ourselves are whether violence, greed and lust for power are embedded in our DNA or learnt behaviour. Can we become civilised or must we always have Trumps, war and Musks?

Chapter 2 continued:

Chameakegra reread the judge’s mail with mixed emotions as her initial elation receded. She was retained. She still had a role. She could oversee the operation. That was the best news, particularly as she knew it would not sit well with Beheggakegri. She allowed herself a chuckle.

But a joint command? Could that work? She found it hard at the best of times to work with others. Graffa would attest to that. Her second‑in‑command was the most even‑tempered Minorian in existence, yet even he had found it nigh impossible at times to work with her. She knew it. That posed the question: could she work with another commander on a joint project — particularly one in which she had been so deeply involved and fully responsible? What if they did not agree? Who took control? Did either have a veto? She had severe reservations. Even so, a blue wave of satisfaction flowed across her scutes. She was staying on Hydra. That could not be bad.

Then she thought about her crew, the ones who had chosen to remain. She was exhausted, and she knew they were too. The extended assessment had drained them all. She was buoyed by emotional involvement, but what about them? Could they summon the energy and enthusiasm required? Many had families and commitments. They had already given far more than intended. The expedition was far longer than planned, and they were psychologically prepared for return. The news they were staying on for another indeterminate period had gone down like a greffotum’s bum. Could they pick themselves up to do a good job? She thought not. That needed addressing.

Judge Booghramakegra, I am delighted to assume a joint leadership role in this venture and am sure my knowledge will be of use. However, my crew are exhausted. Many have chosen to stay on out of loyalty. However, they have been away from home for an extended period due to the burden of the added assessment. I would suggest we arrange a shuttle to send home all those who wish to return and replenish the crew. — Commander Chameakegra

Chameakegra pasted Beheggakegri into the exchange but refrained from informing the crew until she heard back. There was no need to unsettle them. Graffa was the only one she took into her confidence. They discussed the situation at length. He too was torn. His larvae were nearing metamorphosis back on Gestor, and she knew he wanted to be with his partner for that enormously important transition. Yet he wanted to stay.

Two messages arrived in quick succession:
That sounds like a sound proposition. I will inform the Head of UFOR that you will assume joint leadership on the execution of the project and I will ask him to arrange replacements for the crew who wish to return. — Judge Booghramakegra
This is preposterous. We cannot have two commanders on a mission like this. We require clear leadership. — Beheggakegri, UFOR

Chameakegra regarded the two messages with satisfaction. In matters such as these the Judge held sway. This was a fait accompli. A wave of blue satisfaction ran over her scutes at the thought of how irate this must have made Beheggakegri, but it quickly faded to green and yellow as she considered the implications of upsetting him further. He was a powerful enemy. There was no telling what trouble he could cause.

Her claws clicked across the comulator:
I am pleased to assume joint command and look forward to working with the Commander the Head of UFOR appoints. I am certain we can bring it to a suitable conclusion. — Commander Chameakegra

She pasted Beheggakegri into her reply, then set her mind to informing the crew of the changes in plans and providing them with options. She urged them to take up the offer of leave to be with their families, thanked them for a job well done, and wished them well.

Another thought occurred. Perhaps this was the moment to broach her other idea. She quickly rattled off another message to Judge Booghramakegra:
As the nature of Hydran minds is yet to be fully understood and the positive effects of the rehabilitation programmes have yet to be assessed, I would suggest we hold back on the extermination programme. It is possible we might rehabilitate them too.

She paused before sending. This time she refrained from pasting Beheggakegri in. She did not want him clawing into this nest of kiddgers.

Everything had been buffed to perfection. Cleaning bots had worked overtime, staff likewise. All immaculate in full dress regalia, assembled in a welcoming committee.

Commander Chameakegra presided, standing to the fore ready to greet her counterpart. In bytes the two commanders were on a par. In practice, parity would be hard to achieve. First impressions mattered.

As host on her own turf, Chameakegra was fully prepared. Her best dress uniform, usually reserved for the highest ceremonial events, accentuated her physique — a Giforian female in her prime. Extended shoulder pads broadened her frame, the low‑cut back revealed vertebral spurs, and the cut‑away front flaunted her large ventral scutes. With crest fully extended, insignia on display, and scutes flowing with iridescent sheen, she presented an impressive figure. Her forked iridescent blue tongue flicked over her scaly lips in anticipation. She was ready for Grrndakegra.

The massive H‑craft, the size of a city, emerged through the maw of hyperspace precisely to the nanosecond. Even with shields deployed, it was perfectly visible to Neff’s surveillance equipment. The vast sister ship slid close, Commander Grrndakegra’s Quorma drawing alongside so airlocks aligned — a masterclass in docking. The two monster craft dwarfed the shuttle craft lurking nearby. A sinuous connecting tunnel deployed, and within seconds they had docked.

The portal dilated. Commander Grrndakegra strode through with her entourage in tow. Once inside the Neff she halted, haughtily surveying the crew. She too cut an impressive figure, matching Chameakegra in every respect. The deep orange of authority cloaked her crest and scutes. Her eyes roved up and down Chameakegra with arrogant air.

Chameakegra thought she detected a faint tinge of mauve amusement on the Commander’s plates, as if she saw the charade as a game, as if she were above it all.

Chameakegra stepped forward to rattle talons, her eyes taking in the stern‑faced entourage of reptilian Achec and Giforian, with the odd Dref and Jerb. She began the formalities, welcoming them to the Neff, introducing her second, Graffa the Minorian amphibian, then proceeding through the department heads. She noted that the presence of mammalian Jerbs, Marlan avians, and Solarian amphibia seemed to spark more waves of mauve. It made her keenly aware that the Quorma’s denizens were predominantly reptilian. Was that chance?

With formalities complete, the Quorma crew dispersed to be entertained by their counterparts, and Chameakegra took Grrndakegra to her quarters.

Grrndakegra took a pexi without being offered and declined a beaker of synth, commandeering the servo to choose an aromatic juice instead.

Chameakegra sipped her synth and took the initiative. Alone now, the vying for position was inevitable. As host she had the upper hand. She detailed their assessment and findings on Hydra, expounding on the many creative virtues of the Hydrans. Grrndakegra sat back, perfectly relaxed, studying her intently but not engaging with the issues raised. She let Chameakegra proceed without interruption. Only when the report concluded did she deign to speak.

‘My mission is quite clear,’ Grrndakegra fixed Chameakegra with crystal green eyes. ‘I have been charged to take control of the planet. There are Hydrans allocated for extermination, others for rehabilitation. The remainder are to be reorganised into a more harmonious system. When those under rehabilitation are deemed suitable for reintroduction — or irredeemable — they will be reintroduced or exterminated. Once the planet has settled into its improved arrangement, there will be a period of embedding followed by further judgement. On that basis the Hydrans will either be granted probation before Federation entry or eradicated as pests. Isn’t that the essence of the orders we have both received?’

Chameakegra listened with mounting alarm at the emotionless exposition. Yes, it was precisely what they had been ordered to do. It followed Judge Booghramakegra’s instructions and came directly from Beheggakegri. But the way Grrndakegra presented it — as a sequence of cold facts — seemed to predict inevitable failure.

She sipped her synth and met Grrndakegra’s gaze full on, determined not to be intimidated. ‘Yes, that is what we have been instructed to do,’ she replied coolly. ‘But I have worked with these Hydrans for some time. They are highly emotional creatures. The way we approach this will determine whether we succeed or fail. Judge Booghramakegra has appointed us joint commanders and asked that the process be carried out with minimum trauma for Hydra’s inhabitants.’

Grrndakegra shrugged, scutes tinged yellow with annoyance. ‘We’ll see what Beheggakegri has to say about that.’

Chameakegra ignored the jibe. Judge Booghramakegra was in charge. Enough said.

Grrndakegra eyed her with a calculating stare, sipping her juice. She had not come all this way to play second flubert. ‘I do not view this exercise as one of success or failure,’ she remarked calmly, lounging back in her pexi. ‘Either outcome is acceptable. It is up to the Hydrans. They are either worthy of incorporation or not. If they cannot progress, they deserve eradication. That is not success or failure. That is genetics and psychology.’

‘No,’ Chameakegra protested, involuntary flashes of white crossing her scutes, ‘the way we approach this will determine how the Hydrans react.’ This was not beginning well.

Grrndakegra sipped her juice, mauve amusement more evident now. She studied Chameakegra’s emotions with detached smugness, seeing weakness. ‘I shall require a base for a rehabilitation unit,’ she stated, ignoring Chameakegra’s words. ‘My experts suggest we set up the facility within the lunar satellite. I have brought specialists to handle that.’

Chameakegra nodded, eyes fixed on the Giforian.

‘I trust you have the details of the Hydrans selected for extermination and rehabilitation. We shall need to extract them. I have the military means for that.’

‘We have the lists and the whereabouts of the individuals,’ Chameakegra reassured her. She calmly sipped her synth, scutes distinctly green. This was not going as she had hoped. She could see Beheggakegri’s claw in it, setting her up to fail. ‘I will assist in setting up the rehabilitation facilities in the lunar satellite.’ She paused to compose herself. ‘However, I have been in contact with Judge Booghramakegra. She has agreed we should pause regarding the group earmarked for extermination. They are to be afforded a stay of execution pending psychological tests. I will forward the protocols to your team. She wants a report on whether this group, despite extreme symptoms, might also be receptive to rehabilitation.’

The Cleansing 8 – the end of Chapter 1 and beginning Chapter 2

Posted on by Opher

I like to introduce a little satire into my books. Although concerned with aliens and usually futuristic situations (not in this case) I like my tales to reflect the social and political intrigue that runs the world. I like them ‘real’.

As a scientist I like my science based on reality. Here at the end of chapter 1 and beginning of chapter 2 I am setting up some political intrigue.

Onward:

Chameakegra had been in regular contact with Judge Booghramakegra, sending reports and sharing thoughts throughout the assessment. The judge appeared receptive. Shortly after the call from Beheggakegri another message came through.

Judge Booghramakegra’s imposing frame came into focus. The message had been sent to Beheggakegri, but Chameakegra was patched in.

The message was succinct:
I am aware the assessment phase is complete. I am sure you have the implementation in hand and have appointed the correct forces. However, after due consideration, and I am certain you will agree, we cannot afford to dispense with Commander Chameakegra’s intimate knowledge of the Hydrans. I have appointed her joint commander for the operation. — Judge Booghramakegra

Chameakegra felt her mood levitate. She could only imagine Beheggakegri’s response. That judge was a gem, an absolute gem.

Her entire integument turned bright blue. Bring it on!

Chapter 2 – Arrival

Grrndakegra was mopping up after an extermination of an errant civilisation newly discovered in the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way when orders came through from Sang. Beheggakegri was instructing her to gather ships and personnel for a new mission. Her crest bristled, scutes oscillating with black and white waves of bewilderment and anger. She was due a lengthy break. This was not welcome. She had plans — troposphere surfing on a gas giant followed by a retreat on a moon with spectacular views, outrageous luxury, and every form of relaxation known to Giforians. It was all arranged. She deserved it. All she had been uncertain about was whether three male companions would be sufficient given the way she was feeling. Her hormones were up. Now those plans were dashed. She had to take more medication to suppress her oestrus yet again. Infuriating. But she was not in a position to refuse.

The black and white colours flowing through her thoracic plates deepened, joined by waves of yellow annoyance that gave way to pink intrigue as she studied the draft from UFOR headquarters on Gestor. The more she read, the more she realised this was no ordinary operation. Indeed, she had heard of nothing like it. The pink deepened, though green displeasure tinged the edges of her scales. Giforians did not appreciate being ordered around, especially by Sang. That amphibian had an annoying manner, always doing Beheggakegri’s dirty work. Now her leave was cancelled, replaced by a task immensely complicated, even if intriguing: separating aliens into three categories, only one of which was for extermination. What was that about? Somehow she was meant to provide rehabilitation for millions of aliens. That was well beyond her experience.

Grrndakegra took a deep breath and sat back in her command pexi before replying. No rush. She read the brief again to ensure she had not misunderstood. Reaching out with clenched talons, she operated the controls and barked orders. The mopping up was to be done super‑quick. All leave cancelled. Another mission. She knew her crew would not be pleased. Tough. They would not be as miffed as she was.

She turned her attention back to the brief. No time to dwell on what was lost. Surfing and copulation would have to wait. Messages flew as she organised sufficient force to carry out the unusual, if not unique, mission. Crew were ferried in and out as she prepared for this ridiculous assignment — alien behaviour experts, administrators, control units, armed craft, construction operators, and a large number of Stormtroopers. The more the merrier. She earmarked a contingent of feisty Giforians she had used before. Efficient and effective. She added a batch of truculent Drefs. They would do.

The more she studied the mission, the more complex it became. According to the judge’s brief she was to invade the planet, subdue the population without traumatising them, set up administration, reorganise social and political structures, sort and separate the population, and establish a rehabilitation centre. Who had heard of such a thing? Rehabilitation — what next?

White scutes of anger drove her actions as she assembled craft and personnel. The fact it seemed unachievable did not matter. How were they supposed to abduct aliens without trauma? A nonstarter. Her Giforians specialised in creating trauma. Whoever thought up this scheme needed exterminating.

When everything was in motion, tasks delegated to competent staff, she sat like a statue before her comulator, running through her mental checklist, searching for gaps, weaknesses, further actions. Only when certain she had things under control did she check Commander Chameakegra’s credentials. She suspected they would have a close relationship in the days ahead, as Chameakegra was charged with providing the data for the mission. Shades of pink and green flowed over her crest as she flicked through the information. She did not like what she found. Chameakegra seemed too much of a loose laser. Grrndakegra liked precision. Chameakegra sounded wiffly‑waffly. Time would tell. She hoped Commander Chameakegra had a handle on these aliens. That was the best she could hope.

Grrndakegra flicked on the tridee messenger, composed herself with as much of a blue sheen as she could manage, and prepared to respond to Sang. All was in hand. They were on their way.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278910817: Books