The Cleansing – 35 – Chapter 18 continued

Posted on by Opher

More Alien intrigue as the one faction of aliens controls the populists.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Grrndakegra sat back with a satisfied glow, deep blue with pleasure. It could not have gone better. Just twenty paid provocateurs could create so much trouble. Just twenty. Who would have believed that?

This entire operation, from the renting of the traffic exchange platforms to raise the profile of Billy’s podcasts to the arranging of transport and staging, had gone remarkably smoothly. Just as she had planned it? But the greatest success was the arranging of the counter demo and hire of those twenty thugs. Without those rocks being hurled this might have all melted away into insignificance. Now they had hard evidence of extreme Hydran violence and not only that, they had publicity to build on for future demos.

What could be better? That satisfied glow came from the sense of a job well done.

Beheggakegri called an emergency meeting of UFOR. Not because there was an emergency but because he’d spotted an opening. He wanted to call an end to the Hydran experiment as soon as possible, get them eradicated and bundle off that drangling Commander Chameakegra and her sycophantic Judge Booghramakegra into the obscurity of deep space for ever. He wanted rid. He did not want to have to think about them and their annoying ways ever again. He wanted his life back. He wanted to eat and relax.

The Hydran protest violence looked ugly. Grrndakegra had certainly done a great job there. This could be just what was required. Surely the committee would agree now?

He heaved himself into his extra-large luxopexi and turned the antigrav up full so that he felt comfortable. Once suitably ensconced he gave his committee a withering glare just so they knew who was boss.

‘The evidence is here for all to see,’ he growled, daring anyone to challenge him. With that he flicked the tridee into action and they watched the scenes of violence unfurl – the vicious blows between demonstrators and counter demonstrators outside the Clacton detainment centre – heads being broken, blood flowing, missiles raining down  – Hydrans being knocked to the ground, beaten and booted senseless. The scenes were graphic. The violence horrible. They had been stitched together to represent the incident at its very worst. Beheggakegri had been delighted with the gory result.

When the sequence had finished Beheggakegri sat back and glared around at his assembled committee. ‘These are the vermin that Commander Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra want to admit to the Federation. They claim that these Hydrans’, he spat the word as if it left a disgusting taste in his mouth, ‘are worthy for enrolment.’

Nobody spoke.

‘This is the rabble who are left after we removed all the worst elements,’ Beheggakegri continued disdainfully. ‘They claim that violence is not endemic to their DNA,’ he gestured towards where the last frame of the tridee footage, showing a woman receiving a horrific violent kick to the face while lying prone on the ground, ‘this tells me otherwise.’

Beheggakegri’s eyes roved over the assembled committee, searching for anyone who would dare speak. ‘I say that we end this senseless experiment right now. Save ourselves a lot of time and effort and complete the job. The process has been tried and tested. It has protected the Federation for hundreds of years. We do not need to take risks by introducing these vermin to contaminate our system. Let us end this nonsense once and for all.’

He was about to take a quick vote and wrap things up when Debo, the Arker, raised her furry hand. Her gibbon-like face registered a slight nervousness but also a resolute determination. ‘Surely these are early days?’ She ventured, glancing nervously around to see if she had any support. ‘The systems are still being set up. They haven’t had time to begin working yet.’

‘I agree,’ the tiny Marlan Bark ruffled her feathers, raised her multi-coloured plume and stared defiantly at Beheggakegri. ‘The new education system isn’t even up and running yet. That could have an effect of the Hydran attitudes.’

‘And we haven’t even removed the entire troublesome element yet,’ the Achec Zenn arranged her facial plates into a frown. ‘I’m interested to see if this programme that Commander Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra have dreamed up actually works in the long run.’

‘There are big implications for future operations. It could affect how the process is put in place,’ Debo added.

Beheggakegri stared around disbelievingly. This was an out and out rebellion. That was not what Beheggakegri wanted to hear. The dranglers were not only talking like they wanted to continue the experiment; they were after it affecting the process itself. This had to be cut off before it started to grow.

‘The process has worked brilliantly for hundreds of years,’ Beheggakegri repeated indignantly. ‘I have no intention of putting the Federation at risk. Not on my watch!’ For a moment it looked as if things might deteriorate into a full-blown row.

Sang stepped in quickly, looking to apply all his Solarian diplomacy. Years of working with Beheggakegri had shown him how quickly the volatile Dref could turn volcanic. Reptiles were meant to be cold-blooded but Beheggakegri could erupt into incandescence at the flop of a crest. Sang doused himself with refreshing fluid before interrupting. ‘I can fully understand Beheggakegri’s concerns,’ he said, nodding to the Dref whose crest was now fully raised and whose green tinge revealed his inner displeasure. If that green was allowed to turn white they were all in trouble. ‘Our leader has the interests of the Federation at the heart of everything he does.’

The committee looked bemused. The idea of Beheggakegri putting anything above his joy of eating was laughable. The Federation probably never entered his thinking. Beheggakegri did as little as he could get away with and they all knew it.

‘The scenes we have witnessed are truly disturbing,’ Sang continued, shaking his smooth-featured head in sorrow and giving his integument another douse to alleviate his distress. ‘I can clearly see why our leader thinks these Hydrans might be a threat to our system.’ Sang was relieved to observe that Beheggakegri’s crest was slightly deflating and his coloured had softened into a less outraged yellow. ‘On the evidence we have seen these creatures are violent and loathsome.’ He noted a tinge of blue satisfaction creeping into Beheggakegri’s extremities. He was appreciating Sang’s unexpected support. ‘However, I, and I am sure our leader agrees, acknowledges that the experiment is in its early days and we have a way to go yet.’

The blue tinge faded rapidly and the crest rose again but Beheggakegri did not respond.

‘It wasn’t enough!’ Beheggakegri stormed.

‘That’s hardly my fault,’ Grrndakegra replied, openly regarding the white enraged Dref with a look of annoyance, her own yellowy-green tinge defiantly signalling her own disgust. Her eyes roved across Beheggakegri’s bulging scutes with repugnance. It was fortunate that they were conversing across lightyears of space, in the flesh the repulsion might have proved too much to disguise. At least with the hyperspace link there was no aroma. ‘I delivered what you wanted. There was violence and fury by the ton. It was up to you to sell it to the committee.’

Beheggakegri turned as white as snow, his crest rising. He was not used to being treated with such open contempt. The Commander’s tone was more offensive than the words. When this was all over there would be a reckoning. ‘Just get the job done!’ He snapped off the connection.

The Cleansing – 34 – Chapter 18

Posted on by Opher

An aliens view of the sort of populist crap served up by Tommy Robinson and Farage.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Chapter 18 – Joy and Fury

Beheggakegri watched the great protest with a building elation. These Hydrans were such chumps. You had to laugh. Look at them in their fancy costumes, chanting like primitives. How had these cretins actually managed to harness electricity let alone master nuclear fission? Hard to believe. This is just what was needed to show them up for what they were. That stupid Commander Chameakegra would get hers yet! He’d see to that. This was the proof that he needed. These primitive twerps were demonstrating quite clearly that they weren’t worthy, weren’t capable of being civilised. They were playing right into his hands.

He went back to watching the idiots prance around in the sunshine soaking up the ridiculous speech from that prize moron and chortling to himself over a particularly amusing part while shovelling Limo’s delicious dainties down his oesophagus. Grrndakegra was proving to be a genius. The lunar and camp crises were fading into the past. Life was looking up.

Grrndakegra was on the bridge of the Quorma when the message came through. She pretended to be too busy to answer so shunted it on to record. Beheggakegri’s signature appeared on her communicator his bloated features coalescing in the air. Grrndakegra winced at the sight of the dribble of sort kind of purple creamy juice that was oozing down from the corner of Beheggakegri’s mouth along the crevices of his mandibular plates. That same purple gunge was clogged around his yellowing fangs. She frowned in disgust. Didn’t he have any standards? This guy was running UFOR for heaven’s sake. He could at least have made himself presentable. She did not have to disguise her grimace of repugnance as it was on record for which she was grateful.

‘Grrndakegra,’ Beheggakegri purred, ‘I wanted to congratulate you. I am watching the Hydran protest. Five hundred thousand. Who could believe it? You’ve done a great job. What a bunch of fools. I’m keeping a record. When it comes to the final reckoning we can use stuff like this to sort them out. We’re going to take them down. Well done. Keep it up.’

Grrndakegra considered the short message. Was that supposed to raise her morale? Was she supposed to feel pleased that he’d recognised the success of her scheme? It niggled at her. How had this moron gained such power? How was he still there? What a repulsive creature. Here he was telling her that they needed a record to use against them. What the gruthul did he think she was doing it for?

Grrndakegra took a few minutes to cool herself down and get her scutes under control. Only when she was a satisfactory blue did she fashion a reply – short and succinct.

‘Keep watching. The best is yet to come.’

With the speeches over, the crowd suitably roused, it was time to march on the detention centre.

With Billy and Charlene leading, flanked by Foxy, Debbie, Denby, John, Kathy and Cheryl they set off towards the camp. Banners were held high and placards raised as stewards with loudhailers led the crowd in chants:

‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!’

‘OUT LIZARDS OUT!’

The sound echoed off the buildings and as they snaked out into the country roads on the way to the camp the chanting roared into the sky and seemed to echo off the clouds.

Arrival at the base was an anti-climax. No barbed wire, electric fence, turrets or even a hedge – just an invisible barrier that seemed to encircle the large camp. Not even any guards to hurl abuse at. The protest was being kept at a distance. Obviously a second barrier closer in kept the inmates from coming out to exchange words with the protestors. Groups of inmates could be seen gathering against the inner barrier, gesticulating and shouting. Unfortunately the barriers appeared to deaden the sound so it was impossible to make out what was being shouted. The few lizards that could be seen seemed completely unperturbed.

The protestors peered in at the rows of pristine barracks seemingly made of some functional plastic substance. By now the inmates were gathering in large groups shouting and gesticulating from within. There did not appear to be any restraint on their movement or any attempt to control them. The odd Giforian lizard could be seen moving between the huts. A few lumbering Leff were standing at the end of one of the huts. A few Xercs were up on the roof doing some maintenance work. A Marlan and a Jerb joined the Leffs but none of the aliens seemed at all interested in the massive Hydran protest outside the barriers or what the inmates were up to. They stood in conversation without so much as a glance towards the angry chanting mob.

Outside, the protestors raged in an impotent show of fury. The fact that there was no focus or response seemed to rile them up even more. They bashed at the barrier with their placards, fists and boots. They hurled abuse at the aliens; shouted greetings and futile promises to the inmates. Then they began searching out stones to hurl at the barrier, attempting to find how high it extended. Nothing got through. It went higher than they could hurl.

By this time the rage was in danger of burning itself out. There was nothing they could do. All their ranting, wailing, chanting and insults were falling on deaf ears. The protest was in danger of collapsing like a damp squib.

That’s when the counter demonstration came into sight. They too carried placards but they were of a different nature – PEACE AND LOVE, GIVE PEACE A CHANCE, A BETTER FUTURE. They chanted but were not dressed up in union jacks or waving flags. They looked like a rag-tag bunch of escapees from a hippie love-in.

These peaceniks were only a few hundred, marching arm in arm but they made a considerable racket.

At first the two groups met in a stand-off. A thin line of police separated the two and Stewards were trying their hardest to keep control.

Abuse was hurled back and forth, accusations and derogatory remarks as both sides pressed against the poor police attempting to keep control. Things were rowdy but within limits. Placards waved, fists shaken, insults hurled, nothing really serious.

Then, from the back of the anti-alien crowd rocks started being hurled, heads were blooded and the mood changed. From being rowdy it rapidly turned violent. There was nothing the police or stewards could do. A rain of missiles, fists, boots flew, placards were used as clubs and spears. Screams, yells, rallying calls and hysteria rent the air. It did not take long for the counter demonstrators to be overwhelmed, trampled and forced into desperate flight.

Howls of victory were hurled at the ragged remnants as they fled the scene, along with rocks and abuse. Adrenaline ruled.

By the time police reinforcements reached the scene of the battle it was all over. The ambulances arrived and injured were seen to. The unconscious, wounded and hysterical were carted off and order resumed. No fatalities but many nasty wounds, gashes, broken limbs and fractured skulls. The fighting had been intense. But once the focus was removed the inflamed emotions soon settled. It hadn’t lasted long but the repercussions would last a lot longer.

The Cleansing – 34 – Chapter 17 continued

Posted on by Opher

How do you counter the rise of populism based on distorted nationalism and racism? I tried to address it.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Ron watched from his office on live stream with a sense of despair. Unlike some who saw this merely as venting of pent up steam he saw the protest as dangerous, a mirror to all the flaws of humanity. He shook his head slowly, engulfed with sadness. He could understand their reaction to the presence of the aliens. These protestors felt threatened and impotent. They were driven by fear. That was understandable. Who liked the idea of some outsiders, any outsiders, coming in and taking over even if they were after improving things? People liked to be in control of their own destiny.  Having some superior race turning up on your doorstep was a shock to the system. But what did they want to happen? Did they really think that the aliens would feel unwelcome, pack up and go home? Where the military had completely failed with all their guns, missiles and H-bombs, did they imagine that a bunch of placard waving loonies in fancy dress were going to scare them away?

No chance.

He had his qualms. Who wouldn’t? But when there was no choice you simply had to make the best of the circumstances you found yourself in. The Native American Indians and Australian aborigines had come to that conclusion. Their protests had been tragic in the face of superior technology. Their cultures almost destroyed. He did not want that to happen to all the people of Earth.

Ron, as head of government, had his own unedited feeds to watch. He watched the fools in their crusader costumes prancing around as if those cruel savage times, with their failure, cruelty, stupidity and blind religious extremism, were something to be proud of. The flags of the Turkish St George draped around shoulders as if rallying round for a battle; Union Jack suits and flags. He doubted that any of them knew what lay behind those jingoistic symbols. Everywhere around the square the placards were waving. There was a carnival atmosphere. WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK! NEVER SLAVES! OUT LIZARDS OUT! WE ARE BRITISH FOREVER!

Ron felt that this was plain sad. If you had grievances then by all means express them but to transform it into some patriotic pantomime was embarrassing. What the hell did they hope to achieve?

Ron was being pragmatic; if they had no choice then they needed to take the Federation at its word until such time as they were proved to be untrustworthy. As far as he could tell they were keeping their word. They were transforming the energy and infrastructure. Things were being addressed. But you couldn’t transform the world overnight. Ron had studied what the aliens were proposing. He was monitoring the progress. Things were going as fast as could reasonably be expected. Couldn’t these people see that?

He watched the feeds and tried to understand what was motivating them. He found it hard. He had never been particularly patriotic – limiting himself to muted cheers of the national soccer team as they periodically were eliminated from competitions. As far as he was concerned the world, with all its varied cultures was a smorgasbord of delights to be savoured. He loved the imported words, concepts, views, tastes, smells, colours, designs, costumes and textures. Being British gave him a certain pride. He identified with the artists, writers, scientists and inventors that emanated from this tiny island. He marvelled at how such a tiny island had become a powerful State and seat of a vast empire. But there was a lot in the past history of Britain and its empire that was plainly scurrilous: unnecessary wars, conquests, slavery and exploitation – things that he detested. Couldn’t these people see that? The past wasn’t so great. Most of the people out there draped in their union jacks would have been the ones slaving away in the sweat shops and factories twelve hours a day, six days a week, so that a few could live in their mansions with carriages and servants. Couldn’t they see that?

Ron certainly did not feel superior to any other culture. People were people. Good and bad in all. All one species. As for the aliens? Well. He was a pragmatist. Chameakegra had won him over. They had to give them a chance. This protest was pointless and counterproductive. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they see anything? Were they blind or stupid?

Besides, somebody was behind it, stirring up the hate. There was always someone who was profiting from this hatred.

The Cleansing – 33 – Chapter 16 and into Chapter 17

Posted on by Opher

Addressing things such as populism and nationalism within the context of an alien invasion was an interesting challenge:

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

‘God, King and Country!’ Billy reminded the crowd outside Clacton Town Hall. ‘That’s what we stand for. They are stealing our country, kidnapping people right left and centre and undermining all our values. Who cares about pie in the sky?? We want our country back! WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!!’

‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!!’ the huge crowd roared back at him.

Grrndakegra watched the antics. She’d selected right. Billy Smythe could certainly rouse a crowd.

‘Incredible,’ Beheggakegri remarked. ‘Who would have believed it. These Hydrans are truly stupid.’

‘I’m not sure it’s just stupidity,’ Grrndakegra reflected. ‘They seem to have an ability to relate to things emotionally instead of rationally.’

‘That’s the definition of stupidity,’ Beheggakegri chortled.

Grrndakegra looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure what it is. I think it stems back to some kind of tribal allegiance. It overrides logic. They attach themselves to an idea or person and remain loyal to it despite all the evidence.’

Beheggakegri looked baffled. ‘But they were given the whole proof of what those people had been up to. The corruption, greed and violence were laid bare and still they don’t believe it. They had the evidence!’ Beheggakegri looked genuinely nonplussed, his blue forked tongue licking over his scaly lips. He grudgingly shook his head at Grrndakegra in open admiration. ‘That was masterly.’

Grrndakegra couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride. Yes it had been masterly. ‘Easy really,’ she replied modestly. ‘Put out enough stuff contradicting and undermining, foster a climate of distrust, shout conspiracy and fake news loud enough and often enough and you can undermine anything. These Hydrans are remarkably gullible.’

‘I didn’t think it was possible,’ Beheggakegri beamed admiringly. He was so pleased that, even though it went against his nature, he couldn’t help displaying it. ‘When Chameakegra put out all the material that Neff had gathered I thought our glibwort was barbequed.’

‘So did I, so did I,’ Grrndakegra chuckled, ‘but,’ and her mood darkened, ‘we’re not out of the woods yet.’

‘No, indeed,’ Beheggakegri replied. The thoughts of the lunar base and those camps loomed up in his head. ‘But I think we’ve covered our scutes.’

‘I hope so.’

Chapter 17 – Protest

Clacton, despite its ancient history did not have many old buildings to boast of. Apart from a couple of old churches and the pier there was not a lot to attract people to the small seaside town. The population is predominantly a monoculture with a large percentage of white unemployed and single parent families along with a multitude of grey-haired retirees, which rather explains its support for populist politicians and anti-immigrant policies. A walk along the front meant dodging an armada of mobility scooters, having to squint in the dazzling light bouncing off glossy bald heads and trying to walk round waddling blubbery girls pushing pushchairs while trying not to trip over their false eyelashes and gossiping on their mobiles.

On the face of it not an ideal site to place a large detention centre as it was almost certain to stir up local resistance, but perhaps an exceedingly good place to hold a rally against the alien invasion. The local populace were staunchly patriotic, to the point of being nationalistic. If you were talking ‘British Values’, whatever they were, this was the place to go.

Even before the alien invasion every pub, coffee house and queue was a hotbed of gossip concerning how our values were being eroded by bloody immigrants. Now, the immigrants from another star system were truly taking over and those ‘British Values’ were in the process of being discarded altogether. It might appear that the new ‘Universal Values’ of equality, tolerance, empathy, compassion and respect were not very different from the ‘British Values’ that people claimed to espouse. Though, from the heated discussions all over town it was apparent that supporting a set of values associated with your country and cultural and having similar values foisted on us by outsiders were two distinctly different things.

Clacton had been lucky with the weather. A warm sunny day showed off the large paved square overlooked by its two hundred year-old hotel to good effect. The refurbished Royal Hotel made an excellent backdrop combining Victorian charm with modern convenience. The surrounding shops and cafes were looking forward to the event and were hoping to make a killing. The water jets themselves were turned off but by the time the event got underway, with the sun beating down, there would be many who would wish that they’d been left on.

The stage was set early in the morning. A pall of expectation hung in the air. A few children were playing in the square wishing and forlornly hoping that the water jets would start up. The locals, mainly those pensioners and mothers with toddlers in pushchairs, sat around on the seats expectantly waiting for something to start up. Not much ever happened around here. This protest was the biggest thing that had ever happened in years. You could taste the excitement. The square hummed with the chatter of locals with a few buskers already setting up their pitches and rehearsing for when the crowds finally arrived. The locals were waiting, not wanting to miss a second of it.

All through that morning the special coaches and trains flowed into that ancient market town. Clacton hadn’t seen the like of it for many a year. Electricity sang in the air as the crowds rapidly started to grow and the newcomers, all dolled out in their union jacks, flags of St George and assorted regalia gathered in knots discussing what was about to take place. They did not quite know what to do about the cosmopolitan contingents who had flown in from around the world. That was confusing. But they were all united in their opposition to the lizards.

The excitement mounted by the second. They weren’t coming for a day out at the arcades on the pier or strolls along the sandy beaches. They were coming for Billy Smythe. They were coming because the alien lizards were stealing their land; the land they paid homage to. They were angry and were looking to vent their fury. They came with their banners, their flags of St. George and their union jacks to make a statement. They weren’t going to roll over and give away their country. They were going to fight for it.

 Some were even dressed as crusaders ready for battle; some wore full costumes made of their flags. They were ready for battle. As they marched from the train and bus station they chanted:

Out, lizards, out! 

Hear us all shout! 

Out, lizards, out! 

We are British, loud and clear,  
We are British, WE ARE HERE!

Out, lizards, out! 

Hear us all shout! 

Out, lizards, out! 

Country back!  
Country back!  
We want our country back! 

Out, lizards, out! 

Hear us all shout! 

Out, lizards, out! 

Tens of thousands of them snaked through the main street. It seemed as if the whole 53,000 inhabitants had come out to either cheer them on or gawp.  The large stage that had been erected in fountain square in front of the hotel was the focal point and was equipped with a powerful PA. The rumour was that Tommy Robinson was going to speak. Others said Nigel Farage. The two of them seemed to have abandoned their hatred of Muslims and immigrants to focus on alien lizards.

‘More money in it,’ Charly had cynically remarked, scathing of Farage and Robinson who she viewed as opportunists. She found that she had mixed feelings about a number of things as Billy prepared for his big day, but she let them slide. There was something about Farage and Robinson that stuck in her craw. She didn’t like the way they had jumped on the bandwagon. For the most part she kept her thoughts to herself. She agreed with what Billy was doing and was greatly impressed by his rise to prominence. That filled her with pride. The immigrants and aliens both needed dealing with but hypocritical politicians jumping on the bandwagon sickened her. She didn’t want her Billy associated with people she regarded as scum.

They had come down to Clacton the day before. Billy’s unidentified benefactor having provided a luxury suite in the hotel complete with banquet. It felt like being on honeymoon.

On the day neither Farage nor Robinson showed but that didn’t matter. The crowd were content with Billy Smythe. Denby, Cheryl, John, Kathy, Foxy and Debbie had all made the journey down to support their Billy. They took the piss out of him unmercifully but he took it well. He knew they were immensely proud of him.

A few local dignitaries took to the stage to welcome them to Clacton. The dignitaries went down like a bag of sick. The crowd obviously identified them with the reactionary windbags of old. But when Billy took to the stage the crowd went wild.

‘Wow!’ Billy said from the wings, prior to the event, surveying the enormous sea of faces. The square was packed and still people were arriving down the various streets converging on the square. Everywhere was awash with flags like a great field of red and white sunflowers.

When the moment came Billy strode the stage like a veteran showing no signs of nerves. He told the crowd just what they wanted to hear. ‘We have been invaded!! They are trying to destroy our culture – what do we say to that?’

The crowd told him exactly what they said to that. They wanted the alien lizards out! And they expressed that in no uncertain terms: ‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

‘They’re trying to impose foreign control on us! The think that having a global government will solve all our problems. I say their idea of unity is nothing less than tyranny!’

‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

‘They tell us that they are revamping our education system. That they are transforming our schools. Setting up propaganda machines more like! Brainwashing our kids!’

‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

‘They’ve taken our military apart and think we are helpless. They think we are helpless. I ask you – ARE WE HELPLESS??’

‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

By the time Billy had finished winding them up they were ready to tear the lizards apart with their bare hands.

‘Let’s go to the camp and show them that we don’t want them or their ideas here! We’re British! This is our country! We want our country back!’

‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’

‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!’

The news was dominated by the massive protest.

The Cleansing – 32 – Chapter 16

Posted on by Opher

Taking heed of the effect of the European cultures and their colonisation of the world, with the destruction and disillusionment that followed, the loss of confidence, I transposed that to the alien invasion. I coupled that with the modern populist wave of propaganda and undermining of institutions and media. The resultant instability was open for exploitation. My aliens were at odds with each other. They were seeking different outcomes. Human civilisation was in meltdown.

Chapter 16 – Progress

Beheggakegri was beginning to feel more relaxed. The camps were far less crowded and the amenities improved. He was confident that if they were inspected now they would just about pass. The lunar facilities were coming on apace with some parts already up and running. They had shipped in the expertise from around the Federation and were already beginning to work on the Hydrans. If drangling Booghramakegra started poking her nose in now she couldn’t find too much to blame Beheggakegri with. He could refute all that excrement emanating from Chameakegra. He was in the clear. A great feeling of relief passed through him.

Good luck to all those therapists. He was sure that they could apply their therapies and potions to their hearts content but they’d soon find out that they were wasting their time.  These Hydrans were a lost cause and he would prove it. That Chameakegra was heading for a downfall.

As for Grrndakegra, that Giforian seemed to be coming through. He liked her. She was like him, no nonsense. She could see what these Hydrans were like from the start. If she’d only been in charge of the operation from the very beginning these Hydrans would be gone and forgotten and he wouldn’t have even had to think about drangling Commander Chameakegra. She’d be off doing her mundane work out in the periphery where she belonged, unseen, unnoticed and out of his crest. When this debacle was over he’d have her commission, she’d be gone for good. The sooner he could get back to normal the better. All this business with Chameakegra was upsetting his digestion.

Grrndakegra would sort it out. He felt confident again.

No sooner had Beheggakegri begun to relax when the next problem hit home.

‘What is it?’ Beheggakegri asked abruptly, answering the special encrypted communicator he kept for all commerce with Grrndakegra. When that communicator buzzed it usually meant something was wrong.

‘Have you seen what our darling Commander has just put out?’

‘No,’ Beheggakegri replied with a sinking pair of hearts. What had the drangling guff done now?

‘I suggest you check your mail. She’s pasted you in.’

Beheggakegri fumbled around with his other communicator. Immediately he could see that a colossal file had been sent through to him. ‘What the drang?’

‘She’s only gone and released all the data that Neff had collected about the Hydrans.’

It took a moment for Beheggakegri to take that in. Slowly the implications dawned on him. ‘She wants to justify the extractions.’

‘That’s right.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m already on it,’ Grrndakegra replied. ‘I’m flooding their communication network with posts from a large number of reputable sources questioning the facts, contradicting, undermining and claiming it is all fake news. The dissident factions are already claiming it’s a fabrication; a conspiracy put together by the Federation. I’m boosting that view on steroids. I’ll soon have the bulk of the Hydrans believing right is wrong. Doubt and distrust are our weapons. These Hydrans love to believe in conspiracies. They are so incredibly stupid.’

Beheggakegri laughed.

Progress was being made but Chameakegra knew that it was a race against time. Did she have the time to win the Hydrans over before Beheggakegri got his way?

Funding and expertise was being funnelled into education. Long-neglected schools refurbished, a new curriculum put into place that was mind expanding, creative and brought enjoyment to the heart of the process. In developing countries new facilities were under construction. Every youngster over the entire globe, for the first time, was going to receive a first class education. But there were problems emerging. Teachers could not be conjured out of nowhere and the new curriculum and styles of ‘active’ teaching were an anathema to a largely conservative profession. Despite the long-term benefits the short-term issues dominated. There was general disquiet and unrest. The unions became involved. Parents became anxious. Conspiracy theories blossomed – education was being taken over by the lizards. Children were to be brainwashed. Protests ensued. Soldiers were being brought in to fill gaps and soldiers are not renowned for compassion and empathy.

The protection of the environment was warmly received by environmental groups but also generated widespread anger. People were no longer allowed in areas they considered beauty spots. The turning over of whole areas to nature met a furious response. We were being told where we could go and what we could do. This wasn’t right. Restrictions on fishing, trawling, farming, mining and logging, no matter how beneficial they might prove in the long run, were garnishing widespread dissatisfaction. Rewilding became a dirty word. Who were these aliens to barge in and tell everyone what they could and could not do on their own planet?

New quantum energy plants were under construction using alien technology but a new energy grid cannot be constructed overnight even with the amazing resources that the aliens could bring to bear.

The revamping of industry with the incorporation of new technologies required time and expertise. People had to be trained.

The data drop that Chameakegra had instigated had certainly made an impact. The media had delighted in picking over the dubious actions and attributes of their pet politicians, celebrities and business magnates. They were shown up for the horrible selfish people they really were, yet strangely it did not spin the dial as much as Chameakegra had hoped. The campaign claiming that the reports had all been doctored, were fake and created by the lizards greatly undermined the impact. People became confused. What could they believe? Who could they trust?

The most noticeable effect of the aliens’ occupation, apart from the huge impact of the excising of so many people from the upper echelons, was the disbandment of the military. The Federation with the help of the Ministry of Peace under Apsara Amorin, managed the decommissioning of equipment, including nuclear arsenals, warships, planes and missiles but the personnel were suddenly surplus to requirements. All over the world soldiers, sailors and airmen were stood down. The knock on effects were enormous, the whole defence industries, the supply and support along with surveillance, planning and organisation. The mass unemployment created huge problems. People could not simply be retrained overnight.

They were all compensated. The Federation seemed happy to support a large number of unemployed people. That was not an issue. Their resources were unimaginable. That was not the issue. The issue was time. Work filled time. Work gave purpose, status and self-worth. When the work stopped people had time but no drive. They were at a loose end. Time was the enemy. They felt as if they had been robbed. They no longer mattered. They had far too much time.

Then there was religion. All over the world the religious fundamentalists felt that their faith and beliefs were under attack. Attacking or denigrating a person’s deep-felt faith was incendiary. There were no holds barred to a religious fanatic.

People did not like change.

Whenever there had been periods of change there had always been great civil unrest. It took time for change to bed in.

Never in human history had so much change happened so quickly. The whole world had been turned upside down. Not only that, but inside, people were suffering from a demoralising malaise. It was the same psychological collapse that had affected the human cultures following their contacts with the superior technology of the European nations. The arrival of the huge sailing ships with their mystical death-dealing cannons, horses, armour and weapons undermined the very psyche of the cultures they encountered. The tribes, with their canoes, bows and arrows and spears, were suddenly up against people who not only looked different but acted different and brought new religions and weaponry. These tribes could not conceive of how anybody could build a colossal schooner or make a cannon. These strangers appeared like gods. It undermined every belief the endemic people held. Their worth disappeared. They were inferior in every respect. They felt worthless.

Such was the impact of superior technology.

It was the same with the aliens. They left people feeling that their beliefs, culture and lives were worthless. All over the world people were feeling hopeless, floundering and losing the will to live.

Soldiers, miners, fishermen and timber merchants were thrown on the scrap heap, but they were only the tangible symptoms. The very tenets of all religions had been thrown into question and fundamentalists were vainly trying to hold their hands over their ears and eyes. They did not want to hear it or see it. In reality the whole of humanity was now worthless. There was nothing to hold on to anymore. All social cohesion and inner pride had evaporated.

If this was what progress looked like then it was better to live in the past. At least in the old days there was certainty. Now nobody knew what to believe and all beliefs were either discarded or open to question.

The Cleansing – 31 – Chapter 15 continued

Posted on by Opher

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Sci-fi for me is a way to explore the real world and real people. I don’t write space opera. My heroes are Philip K Dick and Robert Sheckley. I like it grounded in insightful realism.

If you are enjoying these excerpts why not purchase the book. It’s available in 3 formats on Amazon.

Here’s the next snippet:

Billy was also caught up in an inferno. Except his was a joy and he was blossoming. The flames of dissent were igniting in his head and being fanned by millions of followers making him feel energised and indestructible. The momentum was building and Billy found himself gathering dissenters like a mighty avalanche careering down a mountainside building as it went. Billy was caught up in it like a fly trapped on a treacle trap, except he was basking in every minute of it. All his time was devoted to the movement – trawling the net, gathering the latest gossip, theories, gripes and information, distilling it into a series of blogs and rants. He’d purchased software and hardware and harnessed Dom the Geek from down the road to set it up. His and Charlene’s bedroom had been transformed into a studio. Now he ran a daily podcast in which he shared his ‘wisdom’. There was no shortage of help. Donations were flooding in. He could afford to do it right – the best cameras and microphones – a real professional job.

Gone were the days of standing on the bar at the Ashley addressing a measly hundred or so, or even holding a meeting at the community centre to address hundreds; he was now on line with an audience in the millions. There wasn’t a hall big enough to accommodate them. Billy had discovered that he had a knack for this podcasting; he just poured out all the stuff he’d picked up and gave it his ‘Smythe charm’. Everyone was suitably impressed at how natural he was – like he’d always played with microphones. Charly had always said he had the gift of the gab.

‘You’re a dark horse,’ Charly chortled. ‘Who’d have thought that you had it in you?’ She was checking out the hits on Billy’s latest rant. The numbers were going through the ceiling.

‘It needs doing,’ Billy replied, a slight modest blush tinging his cheeks. ‘We can’t let these lizards steal out bloody country, Charly.’

‘There’s a lot of people feel the same,’ Charly observed, looking at the latest figures. ‘The trouble is what can we actually do about it?’

‘I’m working on that,’ Billy replied with a smug look on his face.

‘Billy, what are you up to?’

‘We can’t just sit around and moan, can we?’

Charly looked sideways at him. Billy wasn’t a deep thinker. She knew that. He had trouble booking a restaurant for an anniversary surprise.

‘There’s this guy on the web,’ Billy explained. ‘Likes to keep in the background. Some rich geezer. Chucks in most of the readies. He’s as pissed off with the lizards as I am.’

‘And what’s he going to do with anything?’ Charly enquired doubtfully.

‘He’s full of ideas. Things I’d never have thought off. They’re dragging people off to these camps and wiping their brains, you know? The ones they’re not bumping off. He thinks we have to do something about it’

‘I’ve read all that,’ Charly muttered. ‘Don’t know if it’s really true.’

‘It’s true. This guy is sending me stuff. I’ve got the pictures to prove it. They’re ending up like zombies. Their brains wiped clean. He sent me photos. They look like they’re on fentanyl.’

‘And where’s he getting these photos from?’

‘He has contacts.’

She looked at him questioningly. Billy could be a bit gullible at times.

‘I dunno,’ Charly said thoughtfully. ‘They’ve rounded up a right bunch. I never liked the look of that Musk and Farage and their ilk. Glad to see the back of them.’ She chuckled. ‘I don’t even mind if their brains are turned to mush.’

‘Farage is alright,’ Billy protested. ‘A man of the people.’

‘Man of the people my arse,’ Charly sneered. ‘A fucking merchant banker with the gift of the gab who’s jumped on the bandwagon to easy street.’

Billy kept quiet. Farage was one of the few things they disagreed on.

‘So what are the big ideas then?’

‘Well,’ Billy shifted around, ‘protests and stuff.’

‘Protests and stuff?’

‘You know, marches and protests at the camps.’

‘You don’t even know where the camps are.’

‘Yes I do. He’s sent me the details.’ Billy was indignant. ‘There’s one at Clacton. Used to be an old holiday camp and then army base. They’ve taken it all over and put up these huts. He’s sent me photos.’ Billy was enthusiastic.

Charly looked sceptical. ‘What are you going to do there?’

‘We’re gonna march down and have a protest at the camp.’

‘And you’re organising this.’

‘I am,’ Billy said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I’m putting out the stuff this week. I’ve been preparing it.’ He showed Charlene the material he had stashed away in a file on his computer. There was a lot. She trawled through the headlines, photos, posters and details with a wary eye. This looked professional, not at all like Billy’s work. ‘I tell you Charly, we’re putting England at the centre of the whole fucking world!’

‘Looks really impressive,’ Charly remarked with a hint of doubt. ‘What’s all this about trains and busses?’

‘This guy says he will lay on special trains and coaches to take people to the place, even laying on fucking planes to bring people from abroad. We’re expecting thousands,’ he was excited. ‘He’s doing banners and all sorts. All I’ve got to do is publicise it through my blog, stir up interest. He’ll do the rest. Amazing eh?’

Charly fixed him with a wary eye. ‘You be careful you don’t get yourself brain wiped, Billy.’

Chameakegra was in her quarters checking through the material Neff had sent through to her. There were gigabytes of the stuff – all the details on each and every Hydran who had been extracted. The descriptions were graphic, highlighting their personality defects and crimes against humanity.

Judge Booghramakegra was right. This was nuclear. Surely if all this information was released every Hydran would clearly see that they had ample grounds for excising them from society. These people were sick. What they had been doing was criminal. They were the reason the whole world was in such a grave mess.

By removing them Hydran society had an opportunity to heal. People would be able to see that. This could change the balance of opinion. All Hydrans would see why they were doing it.

All that remained to be done was to decide how to release this massive body of material. There was far too much for anyone to read through. But was that necessary? They could dip in to select certain individuals of interest. By seeing the despicable activities of some characters, and having the whole body of information to back that up, they would surely see that the reasons were valid? The guilty ones had to be dealt with.

Even so there remained nagging doubts. Chameakegra had come to realise that many Hydrans were not rational beings. No matter what evidence they were provided with they tended to stick to their own prejudices. That couldn’t be helped. They believed or they didn’t. She had to put that down to the way Hydran’s minds operated. At least a percentage would be won over. She had to hope it was a large percentage. One thing she was sure of was that it could not do any harm. Let some of them believe that it was all made up. There was little she could do about that.  It was no good worrying about lost causes.

So what was the best way to get the information out to the widest audience? That was easy. She would ask Neff to release it to all media outlets and simultaneously send it out on all social media and communication platforms. Let them pick over it and select the morsels they found most interesting.

She set about producing a short introduction to accompany the release:

Dear Hydrans,

I am releasing the raw data that provides the justification for why we have extracted a large number of your citizens. There are a variety of criteria we have applied. Our investigations have been thorough and in depth. We have identified all those guilty of the following crimes against humanity:

Committing or instigating violence

Corruption and bribery

Greed

Racism, sexism and misogyny

Religious and/or political extremism

Indoctrination and brainwashing

Crime

Wanton destruction of the environment

It is our contention that these people are mentally or emotionally ill. Their illness has detrimentally impacted on your society. By removing these antisocial individuals we are enabling your society to heal.

The individuals that we have removed are not being punished; they are being cured of their various illnesses. When their rehabilitation is complete they will be returned to you unharmed and no longer suffering from their antisocial attitudes.

I hope this clarifies our actions for you.

Chameakegra – Commander of the Hydra Mission

When she had completed everything she had a moment’s reflection; should she involve Grrndakegra or Beheggakegri? Grrndakegra was joint Commander. Surely she needed to be updated? Yes. But not before the material had circulated.

She pasted Grrndakegra, Beheggakegri and Judge Booghramakegra into the release. Her claw hovered over it for a second, then the button was pressed, Neff received her instructions and the massive file of documents was on its way.

The Cleansing – 29 – Chapter 14

Posted on by Opher

Attempting to delve into the psyche of a population faced with the reality of an alien invasion was an interesting task:

Chapter 14 – Seeds of Resistance

All over the planet people were emerging from their stupor and finding their voice. The Federation had come from nowhere. They’d taken over without a single shot being fired. People were left stunned. There was disbelief at how quickly and efficiently the Federation had assumed control. The military had let them down. They had simply capitulated. But that wasn’t the end of it. The people weren’t about to allow a bunch of alien lizards to waltz in and take over without so much as a ‘how’s your father?’ Something had to be done. Surely someone could do something?

These lizards were all over the place, rounding up people, manhandling children, and the rumour was of concentration camps, torture and mass graves.

Nobody could simply stand by and allow that to go on, could they? There was a feeling that we were at war, under occupation. The resistance began to coalesce.

The reaction to Ron’s address was mixed. There were many who saw resistance as futile, who felt that they had no option but to place their faith in the vision being sold to them. They had to believe the lizards. They had no choice. It all sounded great but they were reluctant to believe it but they felt they had little choice other to wait and see and hope for the best. Maybe they would be as good as their word? On the other side there were those who saw Ron as a traitor and thought the lizards were taking them all for a ride. We were being occupied by hostile forces that needed opposing at all costs. Principles were at stake.

The underlying groundswell was that nobody, whatever their views on the likely outcome, liked the idea of these alien lizards running the show. That caused universal disquiet. Could they be trusted? Nobody knew for certain. Everything was open to speculation.

The greatest focus of unrest was over the loss of sovereignty. Patriotic sentiments ran high. How could these aliens swarm in and do away with their country? They’d taken on Billy’s mantra – thousands of years of culture gone just at the stroke of a pen. It wasn’t right. This was soil that had been fought over, earth that was rich with the blood of generations. There were highly valued cultural identities that were deeply engrained in peoples’ psyche. You didn’t give up your whole way of life without a struggle. No amount of benefits could compensate for that. Their blood was up.

Besides, wasn’t it obvious, global governments meant absolute power and absolute power meant corruption and nepotism on a grand scale – assuming that the aliens weren’t controlling everything from behind the scenes, which was even worse.

The dice had been rolled. Now it felt as if the whole world was holding its breath. There was no telling where those numbers would fall. All over the planet there were bitter disputes between friends and in families. It split the people into two camps: the believers and the non-believers.

The believers, while not being happy with an alien take-over, were sold on the massive benefits that could ensue. On balance they thought it was worthwhile to be rid of war and put resources into other things. They liked the idea of good, cheap energy and non-polluting industry, of restoring the natural world. There were many who saw the removal of the greed merchants, corrupt and crooked politicians and the violent as being a good thing though there was general consternation at the brutal way these people were being treated as well as concern that the correct people were being identified. Many quite liked the idea of a global government, unity and inequality, even though there were an equal number who were horrified by the idea. It all came down to trust. They did not like the idea that they were being fooled. The insecurity levels were firing through the roof. Were they being led down the garden path? Nobody was sure.

The non-believers did not even believe a word they were told. They saw the aliens as invaders who were working some elaborate deception and did not believe they ever intended to deliver. They saw it as a ploy and the world government as a sham. As for the removal of the elites, they viewed the removal of capitalists as communism and believed that it would remove incentive and demotivate everyone, although they were quite happy for the crooked politicians to be rounded up even if they could not agree on who the crooked ones were. That seemed to split along partisan lines. As for the idea of a global government; for many that was a complete non-starter. Nothing could compensate for the loss of their country. They argued that the aliens could not simply impose unity and equality. It went against human nature. People were different. Some were better than others. That was the law of nature. To many these aliens sounded like a bunch of insane communists.

The battle lines were being drawn. Violent arguments were breaking out all over the world as people became more entrenched and conspiracies rampaged through the internet.

Grrndakegra was watching closely, selecting targets. This was fertile ground. The rising swell of dissent was throwing up a string of new leaders. She watched to see how this might be exploited.

Her conversation with Beheggakegri had been unsettling. She had watched the slimy ball of blubber writhe around in pathetic weak fear. She’d seen it – even if he’d come through with a half-decent plan, the fear had been there. Beheggakegri was the head of a big organisation, a person of enormous power, but she’d seen the weakness. When threatened by the whippet of a Giforian Chameakegra he’d folded like a deflated balloon. The threat of that Judge had terrified him. The Dref had no spine. She felt repulsed. Grrndakegra knew that Beheggakegri possessed not a shred of morality. His whole life had been a litany of schemes and deals. How this sagging, overblown apology for a Dref had gained the position he was in was beyond her. He wasn’t even the most focussed laser in the beam. She knew she could not trust him a centimetre. If it came to it he’d throw his granny under the shuttle. He’d certainly throw her in the propulsion unit to save his own scutes. She knew she had to double down on covering her own thoracic scutes.

Yet Beheggakegri still called the shots. She’d go along with him for now until it was expedient not to. He was right about Chameakegra. She was a detached laser. These Hydrans were hopeless, violent and irredeemable. This was all a waste of time. Follow the written procedure, assess them for what they are and pull the plug. All this silliness was ridiculous. The sooner Chameakegra woke up to it the better. That was frustrating. But, despite all that she warmed to her much more than he had to Beheggakegri. She was crazy but there was no doubting where her heart was; she meant what she said. She liked that. You knew where you were with that kind of person, even if she was totally misguided. Those Hydrans were a lost cause.

There was work to be done.

She began trawling through the Hydrans media, selecting shots of various rising stars busy rabble-rousing crowds, looking for potential; a strategy forming in her head. 400,000 hits on that one. She made a note.

Transforming hot air into action would soon bring out the true nature of these psychotic apes. She was sure of that. All she had to do was lubricate the wheels of dissent and transform it into physical confrontation.

Ron relaxed in his office following his speech. He’d poured himself a stiff whiskey. He told himself he deserved it but really it was to steady his shaking hand. He could not quite believe that he had done it, that he hadn’t simply dissolved into a blubbering heap.

A short while ago everything had been normal. He’d lived in his modest little house in his small village with his lovely wife. Life had been simple. He’d get up, have a leisurely breakfast, check out his facebook, check his book sales, check his emails and take a leisurely stroll down to the village shop to buy a paper. Read a little, write a lot, put out a bunch of posts on his blog aimed at the nincompoops, greed-ridden bombasts, violent extremists, religious nutcases and corrupt shitheads who ran the world and the ignorant, stupid, gullible, misinformed sheep who put them there. All utterly pointless, as his wife Liz kept telling him, but it allowed him to vent his spleen. It had all been so ordinary. Then the aliens had arrived and thrown the whole shebang up in the air. Part of him had liked that. In his opinion it had needed knocking to bits.  But, the jury was out as to whether they would really do what they said they would. He had to believe it, didn’t he?

Now here he was, sitting in a plush office in New York, in the UN building on Turtle Bay, not just visiting but actually fronting up a world government. And he’d just delivered a speech to 8 billion people. The biggest hit he’d ever had on his blog had been when one of his posts had gone viral and received over two thousand hits. That had knocked him out. Now, here he was with an audience in billions. He couldn’t quite take it in.

‘Where did that come from?’ Liz asked as he walked in to give him a big hug.

He grinned. ‘I dunno. How’s it feel to be the first lady?’

Out on the streets the shock had dissipated. People were emerging from their stunned comas. The realisation was hitting home.

Life was superficially getting back to normal but it was a false normality. Nothing was the same. The shops opened, the busses ran and businesses reopened but it was different. There were holes in all the corporations where the corrupt bosses had been and that meant vacancies that had to be filled, expertise that had to be found, decisions had to be made. Nothing was working properly yet. People were scrambling to get the jobs done. The corrupt, greedy and psychotic might have been selfish and corrupt but at least things worked, systems operated. Now corporations had to find ways to cover the absentees. There was a period of chaos as companies worked out how to bridge gaps.

Even with the best will in the world things take time. Even these alien lizards with all their super technology weren’t miracle workers. People had to be trained, resources had to be diverted. It took a lot of time. Periods of transition were always fraught. Nothing had ever happened on this scale before. It was going to take time. Until then it was muddle-through time.

On top of all the chaos caused by the abductions there were the bewildered troops, demobbed and sent home as their weapons were confiscated and they were decommissioned.

According to the lizards society was being dismantled and put together into something better. That’s not quite what it seemed like.

Chaos bred fear. Fear bred distrust. Distrust bred anger. Emotions whirled into tornadoes. Logic and rationality were the first casualties.

There were times when even the most optimistic despaired.

The Cleansing – 28 – Chapter 13 continued

Posted on by Opher

An alien scenario – the same political intrigue. I try to make my sci-fi relevant to the present day:

Beheggakegri was shaken. The reality of Chameakegra’s message continued to hit home. He’d placed himself in a perilous position and he knew it. The Judge had power. This wasn’t something that was going to go away. If Judge Booghramakegra had sufficient evidence in the form of numerous incriminating statements from various departmental heads he might be in trouble. She could take that to the council on Gestor and they could oust him. If she had enough…

He lay on his luxopexi absently shoving dainties down his throat and trying to think. What could he do to remove the damage?

Had they left a trail? Were there any messages, orders that could be laid at his portal? He thought not but he could not be certain. You couldn’t trust people these days. They had an infuriating habit of covering their own backs by surreptitiously recording things. Scandalous!

But, no. He was careful. He might have acted spontaneously but he was too much of an old hand. Even when he was operating on autopilot he was sure that he would have followed a safe procedure. He knew how to cover his trail. They probably had a lot of anecdotal evidence but nothing that would hold up to interrogation. There had been no direct contact. He’d done everything through Grrndakegra. If necessary he’d chuck Grrndakegra down the thruster. When she’d served her purpose that’s what she intended to do anyway. He was in the clear. That is unless Grrndakegra had been canny enough to record their conversations as insurance. Her scutes rippled with multi-coloured fear as the doubts rose up again. She would have done. He knew it. She’d have recorded everything. Grrndakegra was no fool either. She’d try and push the blame on to him. He was certain.

He poured another synth to wash the dainties down.

What could he do?

Silly ideas kept popping into his head. A sign of deperation. He could employ someone to go and steal Grrndakegra’s communicator and comulator. That’s where the kuff would have stored it. But what if she’d stashed it somewhere for safe keeping? Besides, Grrndakegra would have backed up any incriminating evidence in a safe place – probably a copy of all the incriminating messages somewhere out in the comulator cloud.

He could arrange for Grrndakegra to meet with the scene of a nasty accident. But would that guarantee that the evidence would be destroyed? Maybe it would all surface as her things were dispensed with?

He could bribe Grrndakegra to take the fall. But what with?

Could he deal with all the department heads who might squeal? He thought not. He didn’t even know who they all were. Grrndakegra dealt with all that.

It was all that drangling Chameakegra’s fault. If it came to it he would see her go down with him. He’d get his revenge in first!

Dainty followed dainty as his anxieties boiled and a proper solution failed to materialise. She would have to discuss the matter with Grrndakegra.

Grrndakegra’s personal communicator buzzed. It could only be one person and he knew what it would be about. She flicked on record. ‘Grrndakegra, we have a problem.’

‘I know,’ she replied calmly. Beheggakegri sounded agitated and that was not a good sign.

‘What? Chameakegra? You know?’ Beheggakegri blustered as he attempted to process the fact that Grrndakegra already knew.

‘Yes, she came to see me with threats and Booghramakegra and the like. Throwing her weight around. Saying she had evidence.’ Grrndakegra explained. She sounded calm and unconcerned which calmed Beheggakegri down a great deal. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he had imagined? After all, Grrndakegra had been dealing first-hand with the situation. If she wasn’t greatly bothered…

Grrndakegra’s relaxed manner made Beheggakegri think anew; If she really did have enough evidence surely she would have initiated something by now. Was it all a bluff? Was she just using leverage? It was hard to know how that cursed dranglers mind worked. ‘Are you recording this?’

‘Recording this? Why would I be recording this?’ Grrndakegra lied.

‘Never mind. Look, we have to change tack here,’ Beheggakegri said, thinking on his pedal extremities. ‘We can’t be seen to be deliberately sabotaging the operation. Booghramakegra would tear us apart. Are you certain that you haven’t left a trail? Is there anything tangible that could find its way back to us?’

‘Nothing,’ Grrndakegra replied. ‘I’m no fool. Everything has been verbal.’ She smirked at her agitated boss. ‘I’ve covered out scutes.’

A wave of relief flowed through Beheggakegri and his mind started slipping into gear. ‘OK, but we still have to take this seriously. Circumstantial evidence can be damning.’

Grrndakegra waited.

‘OK, this is what we do. Give out some clear instructions – you know, it’s come to your attention that the operation to produce the lunar facilities is proceeding far too slowly. We need to pull out all the stops and get it up and running as soon as possible. That you will be making regular inspections and expecting results. Cover our backs.’

Grrndakegra nodded. ‘I can do that. We can get it completed in no time.’

Beheggakegri nodded pensively. That was good. If the facility was up and running it would tell the lie to anything that Booghramakegra and Chameakegra might cook up.

‘Same with the camps,’ Beheggakegri instructed. ‘Something along the lines that it has come to your attention that some of the arrests have been too rough and that has to stop. All Hydrans are to be treated with the utmost respect and courtesy. A notice to all camp chiefs that even though the camps are only an interim solution they are to build as many facilities as necessary to avoid overcrowding and ensure that the inmates are treated well, we adequate facilities, privacy, good food and recreational facilities. Disorder is to be clamped down on. The camps are not punishment centres and that you will be regularly touring to ensure standards are met – something along those lines.’

‘I can do that.’ Grrndakegra smirked. She was enjoying seeing Beheggakegri squirm but was also quite relieved to hear what seemed like a good sound course of action. She didn’t know Beheggakegri had it in him. She had been worried. That Chameakegra was a threat. Grrndakegra had been concerned and not sure what to do. It seemed like there was some life left in that old frux Beheggakegri after all.

Beheggakegri considered his instructions. Had he covered everything? He thought so. If Grrndakegra got that into motion it would take the plasma out of Booghramakegra’s thrusters.

‘Right. That should cover things. Now, I want that drangling kuff Chameakegra to pay for this. I want this to fail horribly and her to go down.’

Grrndakegra waited. She’d known all along that this was the only thing in Beheggakegri’s head – a personal vendetta. For some reason he had taken a personal dislike of the Giforian Chameakegra. He’d stop at nothing. The fate of 8 billion Hydrans was immaterial. They were pawns in Beheggakegri’s game. Not that Grrndakegra was particularly bothered about the Hydrans. From what she’d seen they were a bunch of psychotic apes, space vermin of the worst kind, they deserved to be terminated. But Chameakegra? What was that about? She was a bit namby-pamby but she’d found her pleasant enough. She certainly had more time for Chameakegra than she had for Beheggakegri. She surmised it was all about control – some psychological flaw in Beheggakegri’s make-up. Whatever, it was not really any of her concern. She just did what she did, what she was instructed.

‘What do you want me to do next?’ Grrndakegra asked.

Beheggakegri was thinking out loud. ‘We can’t be seen to have any role in the failure of her crackpot idea. It has to fail and fail horribly.’

‘So, what’s your big idea?’

‘We use the opposition.’ Beheggakegri replied thoughtfully.

‘What opposition?’

‘All over the planet. There are groups of Hydrans organising against the crazy systems Chameakegra is putting in place. We have to fan those flames into an inferno. Use the Hydran’s propensity towards violence against them. If we can get the Federation to see that these Hydran’s are intrinsically violent and that Chameakegra is trying to introduce space vermin into the Federation she will be utterly discredited. I can take it from there.’

Grrndakegra ran the idea through her head. Yes it could work. ‘OK. Leave it with me.’

Beheggakegri shut down the communication. Why had he mentioned recording? Now he’d put that idea in Grrndakegra’s head. Had they done enough? Covered all the bases? He’d just have to trust Grrndakegra on that one. But at least he felt a lot better about things and had the start of a way forward. That damn Chameakegra was going to pay for all this. He’d make sure of that.

 Beheggakegri turned his attention back to Ron Forsythe’s address to the nation. He had to admit that the Hydran had handled it well. Beheggakegri could already see that he was going to be a problem. There was someone else who might need dealing with.

‘Have we actually got enough to undo Beheggakegri and Grrndakegra?’ Chameakegra asked Judge Booghramakegra.

The Judge looked thoughtful. ‘Probably,’ she replied, ‘but I wouldn’t count on it. Beheggakegri is an experienced politician and the bar is set high. I’ve no doubt that he will have covered his tracks and would be prepared to throw Grrndakegra in front of the shuttle.’

‘My thinking too.’

‘My view is that they’ll cover their tracks. The Lunar facilities and camps will magically begin to function well. We may have blocked the leak in the plasma there.’ The Judge mused. ‘We need to focus more on the issues that are causing most upset with the Hydrans.’

‘The extractions.’

‘Precisely.’

‘I’ve already tackled that with Grrndakegra,’ Chameakegra mused. ‘What else can we do?’

‘What’s done is done,’ the Judge replied pensively. ‘Somehow we have to regain the initiative.’

‘Easier said than done. Those viddies on their communication network are pretty damning. They make us look like a bunch of thugs and have spread terror all around.’

‘We have to justify them,’ the Judge pronounced.

‘I already have,’ Chameakegra protested. ‘I have explained why we are carrying out the extractions in my addresses.’

‘I know you have,’ the Judge smiled. ‘But they don’t believe you. They think you are fooling them and dragging people off to either murder them or brainwash them.’

‘I don’t know what else I can do.’

‘You need to win them over. Make them realise why the extractions were necessary.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘The Neff has all the details on them, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Chameakegra replied beginning to grasp the gist of where this was going.

‘Release the dirt,’ Judge Booghramakegra grinned. ‘Let them see exactly how despicable they all are. Give them the full works.’

The Cleansing – 27 – Chapter 12 into Chapter 13

Posted on by Opher

Unlikely heroes and alien political intrigue emerge as the tale unfolds:

Fresh from her encounter with Grrndakegra Chameakegra sat herself at her station to send a message. The rage still flowed through her and she needed to expunge it.

She sat in front of her comulator and pressed record. Her image hung in the air above the tridee. She studied her angry white scutes and began:

‘Beheggakegri, you slimy piece of dreyfus shit, I have the evidence of what you and Grrndakegra have been up to.’ She waved her communicator in the air. ‘I have an interview with Commander Loj at lunar and more from Minorian commanders at various camps. It’s all here.’ She tapped her communicator with a claw and allowed the camera to linger on her bleached face. ‘You two have been actively undermining my plan and I have the evidence.’ She glared into the camera. ‘I’m sending a full report of your sabotage through to Judge Booghramakegra.’ She leaned into the camera so that her face loomed menacingly out with fluorescent green eyes flashing spears of venom. ‘You are mince!’ Then she flicked the record off.

Chameakegra thought about all the advice she’d ever been given. Never do anything in haste. Never send a message to anyone when consumed by anger. Then she calmly and deliberately pressed send.

For a minute she stared at the tridee, her mind racing. Was this the moment to go nuclear and actually send the evidence through to Booghramakegra? Was it enough? Should she gather more?

At least it was all out in the open. Her claw hovered above the keypad. She hesitated.

By the time Ron was prepared for his first address to the new assembly the media was back up and running. Getting TV back was considered essential by Chameakegra. She saw it as a calming influence.

Ron mounted the podium and calmly surveyed the delegates spread out before him. There wasn’t one he recognised. They had all been appointed by Chameakegra and the combined computer power of the Neff, wherever that was. Somehow he had to put his faith in that. And, despite a few residual qualms he thought he had. This was certainly no time for doubt. Not when he was facing thousands of delegates and a world-wide audience of billions.

For a moment Ron froze. The fears rose up in him. What if the words did not come?

He was not used to public speaking; a few dozen in a hall at a book signing was his limit if you didn’t count a wedding speech or two. Yet here he was standing in front of a couple of thousand delegates in the old UN building in New York. At the front were all the department heads responsible for managing the various branches of government. Behind them a mass of delegates of all shapes, sizes, colours and cultures. He looked down the aisle. There were the camera crews with their equipment all trained on him. Nobody knew who he was. This was their first look at the new boy on the block. This speech was going live right round the globe. Every word he uttered would be analysed. Billions of people were probably going to judge him on what happened in the next hour. He had no notes and decided against the autocue.

There was complete silence. All eyes were on Ron. They were already weighing up this strange little man who had come out of nowhere – studying his straggly hair and grey beard, his podgy frame and slightly crumpled cheap suit. He hadn’t even tightened his tie. Was this really the man who was going to lead everybody to a new future? It didn’t look very likely.

The pressure on Ron was immense.

Strangely he felt completely calm and confident. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He turned to face the world.

Chapter 13 – Deception and Vision

Beheggakegri was incensed. He kept rereading the short message from Chameakegra as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His crest was fully raised but a multitude of colours raged across his scutes as he attempted to think of a way forward. That infernal Giforian would be the death of him. He could feel is twin hearts labouring as his blood pressure rose dangerously high. His medikit kicked in with a shot to calm him down, but that didn’t do too much. His confidence had evaporated. Had he overreached? His anxiety levels were dangerously high.

What could that Judge actually do? She didn’t actually have jurisdiction over UFOR. What if Chameakegra or Judge Booghramakegra did send out there evidence? Had that stupid Minorian implicated him? Couldn’t he just push the blame on to Grrndakegra? What had the stupid fool told her? Did they have enough to call it a conspiracy or could he get away with blaming it all on Grrndakegra? The questions buzzed around in his head like maddened zubby flies.

How should he respond? The rudeness of the message was such that any formal response should involve a severe reprimand, probably sufficient to warrant a demotion or sacking. But if he went down that path and she had evidence of conspiracy that could rebound on him. But if he chose to ignore it then he was displaying guilt and weakness. Which was worse?

For once Beheggakegri felt conflicted.

Then he made a decision: he would go the middle way, reply with a severe rebuke, tell her she is being stupid and warn her not to be so rude?

‘My fellow delegates, new governors,’ he looked directly into the cameras, ‘and citizens of the new world, my name is Ron Forsythe and I have been appointed President and Planetary Steward.’ He paused, looking resolute, projecting more authority than he had ever done in the whole of his life. A huge burst of confidence welled up inside him sweeping all doubts aside. He knew the words would find him. There was no need to search for them. He was the President and he aimed to make them know it. It was essential that he did – so much depended on him coming through. He had to trust in Chameakegra and sell her vision to the world. There was no room for doubt. He had to be 100%.

‘We stand on the brink of a new age. We have pulled back from complete disaster. Our alien friends have arrived to assist us to escape that horrible fate and move forward into a new age.’ The silence was thunderous. The delegates were watchful and sceptical. Most of them, just like him, felt they were impostors, brought in to do what the Federation wanted them to do. He leaned forward and peered out at the world. His audience extended far beyond the delegates in the hall and all of them were far from sure. His job was to convince them. ‘I aim to ensure that we grab this lifeline with both hands.’

Unfazed by the lack of response Ron pressed on. He knew exactly what he needed to do; his mind was crystal clear. ‘Together with our Federation friends I have been working through an exciting vision for the future.’

Ron looked round and gestured to Chameakegra who was lurking in the background. He waved her forward. A murmur ran around the silent hall. All the delegates had been appointed by their new overlords but that did not mean that they trusted them yet. They certainly had not had the close daily contact that Ron had. The Giforian was still viewed with great suspicion by most people. The horrible scenes of the abductions were fuelling distrust. Even many of these delegates saw them as invaders who were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. If the delegates didn’t believe then how could anybody else?

Ron reached for Chameakegra’s claw and held it aloft. He could only raise it to Chameakegra’s shoulder height but it achieved its aim. ‘This is Chameakegra. She is the Commander of a spacecraft that travels through the depths of hyperspace – something that we can only speculate about. Chameakegra is one of two commanders who have been given the task of helping us save ourselves.’

Chameakegra stood awkwardly by his side not knowing quite where this was going. They certainly hadn’t rehearsed this. She had to trust Ron. A yellow awkwardness flowed over her scutes as she stood beside this little Hydran. Neff had selected him. Now she had to give him her trust. ‘When I first met Chameakegra I saw her as an alien lizard, part of a conquering set of invaders. She talked to me and shared a vision of the future. I watched her talking in her broadcasts and I could not bring myself to believe her. But she persevered. She told me she’d seen something in me and that was why she thought I was suited to this role. She continued to share that vision, putting flesh on the bone, until I could see it too. She spent time with me until I learnt to understand her mannerisms and feelings; until I came to realise that she really meant what she said. She had a vision for how we humans could be and she is trying to make it come true.’

He let go of Chameakegra’s claw, stepped forward and gripped both sides of the podium ignoring the cameras and peering round at the massed delegates.

‘I am a writer; a nobody. Everyone can see that. I am no politician let alone President. But I am here. I see myself as a bridge to the future. Just a bridge. When you have all made that journey to the other side I will no longer be of any use. But I can get you across.’

Ron stared the silence into defeat.

‘To understand where we need to go we have to first understand where we’ve been and where we were going. We have to recognise it and accept the reality of it. We have to change the path we were going down because that way spelt disaster. We have to find a better way.’ He gestured towards Chameakegra. ‘This is our crossroads. This is the better way.’

They might not have been applauding but they were listening. Ron had more charisma than anybody had expected and what he said made sense.

‘The world was in a death loop,’ Ron asserted, ‘a repeating cycle of escalating catastrophe – a cycle of uglier and uglier wars with nastier and nastier weapons – a cycle of endless ravaging of nature producing greater pollution and a climate change that would have been catastrophic – a loop of endless unrestrained greed in which we spawned billionaires and trillionaires while condemning billions to terrible poverty – a loop of tribal racism, violence and hatred, of gangs, drug abuse, sectarian extremism and crime. It doesn’t take a genius to follow that to its conclusion. We were steadily, inexorably heading towards the exit.’

Ron stood centre stage and dared anybody to contradict him. Rapt silence. But it was a positive silence. At least they were listening to him.

‘We had lost faith in all political parties, institutions and the media. We were being fed a daily diet of lies, conspiracy and propaganda. The billionaires controlled the media and ran things to benefit themselves, electing useless buffoons and populist self-servers. We were being led by narcissists, psychopaths and sociopaths and could not catch a glimpse of a competent leader capable of leading us out of this quagmire.’

Ron stopped again. He reached once again for Chameakegra’s claw and raised her arm once more, drawing her forward, up to the lectern.

He looked up at Chameakegra admiringly as she stood beside him. ‘It took an objective outsider with intelligence, a clear understanding, the scientific and technological means coupled with a clear vision, to help us crawl out of the grave we were digging for ourselves.’ He looked directly into the cameras and addressed the whole world. ‘Chameakegra provided that objectivity and vision.’

Slowly and deliberately he pronounced each syllable: ‘I    trust    her.’

‘This, ladies and gentlemen, whether you like it or not, is our only hope for the future.’ He shook Chameakegra’s claw in a sign of unity and victory. ‘I urge you to trust her too; to give her your backing and work hard to make her vision real.’

‘Together, Federation and Earth, can forge a better future. We can banish the scourges that have crippled us throughout our history. I say to you – back Commander Chameakegra and fight for a world without war and division, without violence and hate, without cruelty and pollution, without poverty and unrestricted greed, a world with a future.’

There was actually a ripple of applause.

‘The Federation offers us the science and technology to create that better future. They have temporarily removed the minority who were responsible for creating much of our misery. They will be rehabilitated and returned as wholesome, well-adjusted citizens. This isn’t an invasion, a take-over or a bid for control; this is our last chance… our last chance.’

‘Let’s not blow it.’

Ron stepped back from the podium. For a moment the silence remained then, first as a dribble, then a dam burst, and a surge spread around the hall, soon every member was on their feet clapping.

Ron smiled and nodded.

He’d passed the audition.

The Cleansing – 26 – Chapter 11 into Chapter 12

Posted on by Opher

The political intrigue between aliens mirrors that to be found in human societies:

Chameakegra settled for checking the lunar facilities first. Finding time to fit everything in was proving difficult. She needed to be in ten places at once. An army of Xerc engineers were working on the facilities, burrowing deep into the moon’s substrate, creating rooms, facilities and corridors sufficient to house a small city, necessary to house and treat all the excised Hydrans. By the standards of the Federation, this was not too daunting a task. They had all the tools and materials to facilitate the operation. With the technology available this should not have taken too long to get up and running.

An army of psychiatrists were at hand. Behind the scenes Judge Booghramakegra had lubricated the moving parts to assemble the best.

Chameakegra was greeted at the entrance by loj, a large Minorian. She was familiar with species; Graffa, her second in command on the Neff was a Minorian. He’d always impressed with his calm amphibian manner and efficiency. She was expecting the same.

Loj began the tour, leading her through completed corridors, showing off the idle lavish facilities and introducing staff. It was only when Chameakegra enquired about the date for the facility to be up and running that she began to get the highly aromatic reek of a deceased quiw. Loj began to show signs of agitation and Chameakegra noticed her dousing herself from her hydrating glands. Something was up.

Back in Loj’s office Chameakegra cornered her. ‘Right Loj,’ she demanded, ‘what is going on?’ It came spilling out.

That’s when the real tour began. Roughly hewn corridors, empty rooms, no facilities, Xerc’s standing around with little work being carried out.  It did not take too much to piece it together. They were on a go slow. Loj fired excuse after excuse, unexpected rock formations, instability, cracks, and fissures. None of it made sense and Chameakegra could plainly see Loj’s embarrassment. When asked directly if she was acting on orders from Beheggakegri or Grrndakegra she prevaricated.

Chameakegra returned filled with a seething fury. She had got nowhere and could see that her whole project was being deliberately sabotaged and there was little she could do about it.

Next up were the temporary camps, only intended to house the Hydrans for a short while as they were shuttled off to be treated. She toured the cramped, squalid conditions with their listless inmates, squabbling, infighting and sullen resentment boiling up into hate and fury. Hardly conducive to the rehabilitation she had planned. Nobody could tell her anything. The squalid conditions were a hotbed for everything she was fighting against.

This wasn’t disheartening; this was monumentally horrendous.

Back on the Neff she sat for a moment. Something had to be done. First Booghramakegra. She needed putting in the picture. Quickly her claws rattled across the keyboard filing a report of what she had witnessed along with her suspicions. Then the communicator.

‘Grrndakegra, we need to talk.’ With that she shut down and sat back in her pexi her scutes and crest a deep green sign of outrage.

Chapter 12 – A Reckoning

Ron was a writer, a man who was used to studying people, who was familiar with emotions, psychology and all manner of human behaviour. Understanding character was his trade. But dealing with human beings was one thing; dealing with completely unknown alien reptiles was quite another.

His regular meetings with Chameakegra were beginning to pay dividends. Ron felt that he was beginning to get the measure of her. Despite his initial sense of outrage at feeling he was being used he couldn’t help but start to melt. As he grew more familiar with her mannerisms he began to read her more. What he was becoming more and more certain about was that she was sincere. Slowly his anger melted away to be replaced by a grudging respect. He believed her. He was beginning to be able to read the emotions displayed on her scaly face and interpret the colours that flowed across her skin. He still could not figure out why she had chosen him but, though he kept a small element of doubt alive, he was becoming convinced that she believed what she was saying. She wanted that bright future for them.

That left Ron with a dilemma.

He felt torn.

If Chameakegra believed in him and felt he was the man for the task; if she had a viable vision for the future, one that he could buy into, then wasn’t that worth fighting for? What had he got to lose? Despite the violent scenes he was seeing perhaps it was just as she was saying – a necessary means to an end? Ron was at war with himself but maybe, just maybe it was time to put aside his doubts and fears and fully buy into the dream? That’s what his gut was telling him.

Chameakegra was fuming. Her scutes ran with livid green outrage bleeding into white fury.

Grrndakegra sat back looking supremely relaxed in her pexi. Somehow Chameakegra had kept her composure as she led her through the Neff to her private quarters; she’d even offered her a drink of synth, now Grrndakegra’s total lack of concern was needling her. She had been so sure she could hold it together now she wasn’t so certain after all.

Chameakegra sat opposite Grrndakegra and poured herself a sizeable synth from the servo then sat back, took a deep breath and tried to control her feelings.

Grrndakegra continued to watch her closely, her scutes moving between a thoughtful pink and mauve amusement. She was waiting for what was coming.

‘Where’s this coming from?’ Chameakegra finally asked, fixing Grrndakegra with her flashing green eyes while slowly sipping her synth. ‘It’s Beheggakegri behind this, isn’t it?’

Grrndakegra tried to hide it but Chameakegra noticed a hint of red annoyance creep into Grrndakegra’s scutes.

‘Where’s what coming from?’

Chameakegra glared at Grrndakegra a distinct white rage stealing across her crest.

‘Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid. I’ve just come back from the lunar facility after an interesting tour with our friendly Minorian. Loj did her best but she couldn’t hide it forever, could she?’

Grrndakegra sipped her synth and tried to brazen it out. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ her beige scutes displaying a lack of concern.

Chameakegra nodded allowing the white rage to settle over her thorax. It did not hurt for Grrndakegra to know how furious she was. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ The cold, deliberate delivery gave the words a cutting edge.

Grrndakegra shrugged.

‘I did a tour around the camps,’ Chameakegra continued in measured tone. She left it hanging.

Grrndakegra sipped her synth insolently but Chameakegra could plainly see some yellow annoyance or awkwardness displaying on her scutes. She might feign a lack of concern but inside she was feeling something.

‘Is this some underhand ploy that you and Beheggakegri have dreamed up?’

‘Chameakegra,’ Grrndakegra purred, in a condescending tone, ‘you have to be realistic. These Hydrans are space vermin. They can no more be turned from greed and violence than Beheggakegri can forego his dainties. There’s something deep in their DNA. You’re not going to fix it with all your restructuring and namby-pamby therapy. It runs too deep.’

Chameakegra studied her fellow Giforian with an olive burst of contempt. ‘I never figured you as one of Beheggakegri’s cretinous stooges.

Grrndakegra produced a burst of white anger, like a button had been pressed and some dam inside her head had burst. ‘I’m nobody’s fool and I’m nobody’s stooge,’ she snarled rising to her feet in fury.

Chameakegra stared up at the Giforian towering over her with her crest fully raised and waves of white anger flowing over her scutes. She sipped her synth in a show of indifference while showering the Giforian with disdain, the olive green deepening into a brown shade. ‘That’s exactly what you are.’ The contempt in her voice was thick like cold molasses. ‘You are utterly despicable, worse than that heap of blubber whose anus you are busy licking.’

For a moment it looked as if Grrndakegra, who was now incandescent white from toe to crest, was going to strike her with one of her raised claws. Chameakegra met her gaze and leaned forward, daring her to deliver the blow. ‘You and that piece of drewfus excrement Beheggakegri deserve one another.’

For a moment the claw hung in the air then Grrndakegra turned on her heel, flung the beaker of synth at the wall and stormed out, the portal barely dilating sufficiently to allow her through.