The Cleansing – 49 – Chapter 27

Posted on by Opher

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement) eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Chapter 27 – Repercussions

‘Did you see any of those masked individuals being picked up by the Giforian squads?’ Judge Booghramakegra asked with an air of exasperation.

Chameakegra looked at Ron.

Judge Booghramakegra replayed scene after scene of Grrndakegra’s Giforian squads plucking violent Hydrans out of the rioting crowds. Not once did they see one of the youths with the distinctive balaclavas being snatched.

‘What does that tell you about who is involved?’

Ron rang the doorbell and stood on the step impatiently waiting.

Charlene opened the door and had a start to see him standing there. She was about to slam the door but Ron stuck his foot there and held it open.

‘We do it this way or another,’ he snarled. This time he was in no mood to be messed with.

Charly hesitated and then held the door open. Ron strode in. This was a different man to the one who had visited before. The anger was oozing out of him.

Billy was sitting in the living room and rose out of his seat in surprise at the man barging into his house. ‘What the heck!’

Ron stood glaring at him, all the frustrations and anger spilling out. So much made sense now. ‘Billy Smythe,’ he growled menacingly. ‘Which side are you on?’

Billy stood facing him, anger brewing. ‘I’m on our side, you Judas! You…’

‘Billy!’ Charly snapped sharply. ‘Listen to the man!’

‘Fifty-eight dead!’ Ron snarled. ‘That number’s likely to rise! That’s all down to you Billy!’

Billy visibly blanched and Charly gasped, a stifled sob in her throat. She gripped her jumper and grabbed hold of Billy’s arm.

‘You’re lucky it’s me,’ Ron growled, leaving Billy to fill in the alternatives. Charly tightened her grip. She knew.

‘You come with me!’ Ron ordered grim-faced.

‘I’m going nowhere.’ Billy’s jaw jutted out in defiance. ‘You want me you’ll have to drag me out.’

‘Billy, please…’ Charly pleaded, her face screwed up in anguish.

‘Billy,’ Ron said in a furious but controlled voice, his steely eyes fixed on the agitator. He’d only been in post for a short while but he was a different man. The Ron of old would not have had this resolve but he’d been through a lot and developed new facets of himself that he never knew existed. He spoke in an icy measured voice that was as hard as granite. ‘Either you come with me of your own accord and I take you on a little trip that’ll open your eyes and then bring you back to your wife unharmed,’ he nodded towards Charlene. ‘Or I summon up a Giforian or two and have you dragged out of here kicking and screaming, carted off to the rehab centre and open your eyes that way.’ He studied the man with an unflinching stare. ‘I’m easy.’

‘Billlyyyy…’ Charlene pleaded.

Billy considered it for a moment or two before realising that he really had no choice. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he glowered at Ron, ‘but you’ll not get me to change my mind.’

This committee meeting was as smooth as an Alcran’s arse. Beheggakegri was in jovial moody which was totally at odds with the material he was sharing. This time there was no dissenting voices; no calls for the process to be concluded and no objections to a termination. The committee had fallen over themselves to reconvene.

When the viddies of the riots had been dispensed with, without much in the way of a preamble Beheggakegri proposed the motion and it was passed unanimously.

The Hydran experiment was to be terminated immediately.

The Hydrans were to be eradicated. Grrndakegra was to be reallocated as terminator and the Quorma and its crew reassigned to their original brief. Chameakegra was to be stood down and the Neff returned to Gestor.

Beheggakegri hadn’t felt this good for a long while. Job done. Short and sweet.

A contented Beheggakegri sauntered out of the committee room, leaving a disconsolate Sang to tie up the formal ends, and disappeared to reacquaint himself with Lomi.

Chameakegra was waiting at a shuttle when Ron arrived with a sullen and subdued Billy. Without an audience he was a shell of a man probably internally realising how powerless he actually was.

The shuttle ride was not quite the ecstatic experience for Billy that Ron’s trip had been. Despite Ron’s reassurance he still remained anxious about the outcome. His fears were plastered all over his face. He was not certain that he would return or at least not as the man he was. He spent weeks spreading conspiracy theories about blank-minded returnees, now he had to sweat about the veracity of what he had been broadcasting.

The approach to the Neff was hair-raising. Ron watched as Billy took in the immensity of the giant H-craft. The reality of the situation finally hit home. He could see what he was up against.

‘That is what you are dealing with,’ Ron rammed home the message. He could see Billy visibly blanche. His saucer-like eyes scanned the alien craft from end to end. ‘This is the Neff – Commander Chameakegra’s ship. We can’t see the Quorma Commander Grrndkegra’s yet. It’s just as big and that’s packed with Giforian and Dref troopers equipped to carry out a rapid extermination.’ Ron fixed him with a withering glare. There was no need to spell it out further. By now Billy was turning green and his hands were quivering.

They docked and the silent Giforian Commander took Billy Smythe on a quick tour of the working areas with their comulator terminals. This was no congenial demonstration; the silence made it all the more intimidating. Billy stared in horror at the sheer enormity of the operation. His whole body had turned to jelly so that he could hardly stand, looking as if he was about to pass out at any minute.

‘This is where the assessment of Earth was carried out,’ Ron informed him. ‘This is where details on every human being on the planet is being constantly updated. They have everybody’s profile.’ Ron turned to Billy – ‘Including yours.’

After the whistle-stop tour they returned to the shuttle. A subdued Billy sat queasily in his seat looking extremely frightened.

Chameakegra took them close to the Quorma and parked so they were overlooking the second enormous H-craft.

‘This is Commander Grrndakegra’s craft – the Quorma,’ Ron informed Billy. Billy hardly dared look at the gigantic craft. ‘We’re not going in,’ Ron informed him. ‘You’ll just have to take my word that it’s packed full of Giforian troopers. The ones you disparagingly call lizards and dragons.’

Billy gave a terrified glance towards Chameakegra who was studiously ignoring him. Billy had been keeping up a sullen silence throughout the trip but he had no need to speak. His face was an open picture.

‘Commander Grrndakegra and many in the higher ranks of the Federation want to eradicate humans altogether. They call us space vermin. They are looking for an excuse.’ Ron spoke quietly, the anger in his voice making the words more barbed. Ron held his eyes with piercing fury. ‘You made their case for them.’

Ron could see Billy visibly flinch as if struck with a fist. It was one thing being all brave and gung-ho in front of an adoring crowd, putting out podcasts decrying the alien invasion. It was quite another being faced with the physical reality of what they were up against.

Finally the huge Giforian Commander turned to face Billy. Chameakegra studied him with razor-sharp eyes that cut into him like blades. She had no need to say a word. Her face did the talking.

‘Time to make a choice Billy?’ Ron said coldly.

‘Commander Chameakegra here represents a positive future, a future of prosperity and growth, a future where we are offered a lifeline to prove ourselves and flourish. An opportunity you threw back in her face. Commander Grrndakegra offers the extermination of the entire race.’ Ron’s eyes searched for an answer. ‘What have you got to lose?’

‘Our country’ Billy blubbed pathetically, on the verge of tears but still clinging on to his feeble excuse.

‘You’ve already lost your country,’ Ron reminded him bluntly. ‘They took over without a shot being fired. Just look.’ He nodded towards the giant H-craft. ‘Do you, a humble man from the council estate in Hersham, backed up by rent-a-mob, really think you can stand up to the might of the Federation?’

‘It’s a matter of principle,’ Billy squeaked ridiculously, staring down at the floor.

‘No,’ Ron asserted coldly, ‘it’s a matter of stupidity.’ He pulled Billy’s chin up roughly and forced him to look straight in his eyes. ‘You’ve been used by powerful people you have no comprehension of. All those hits on your podcasts were engineered. They used you. You are a silly fool. They are using you. Can’t you see that? Are you too stupid? All that violence on the marches you organised was planned. They want us eradicated and they used you to make their case for them. For fuck’s sake – wake up!’’

Billy looked as if he did not believe it. His eyes kept flicking between Ron, Chameakegra and the huge H-ship blotting out the stars in front of them.

‘It’s true,’ Chameakegra spoke for the first time in a clipped monotone. ‘You’ve been duped.’ She was looking at Billy like he was a piece of bhufes excrement.

Ron gritted his teeth. ‘As I said Billy, it’s time to choose.’

The Cleansing – 41 – Chapter 21

Posted on by Opher

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

A polite confrontation between two rivals with opposing views:

Chapter 21 – Changes

‘Come in,’ Chameakegra said, indicating a seat next to a low mense on which were two tumblers of synth.

Grrndakegra had not been invited into these private quarters on the Neff. She looked round at the room with some curiosity. It was strange, so very strange. The walls had these oblong structures on them with strange shapes and colours. The mense seemed to be made of some natural substance. There was a peculiar noise wailing away.

When Chameakegra had messaged her and invited her for a casual evening of relaxation she had not known what to make of it. What had Chameakegra meant? What ploy was this?

The two of them might have had joint command but they had been operating autonomously with the minimum coordination or contact – particularly following Chameakegra’s outburst. Grrndakegra had been supervising the extraction process, the decommissioning of all military equipment and overseeing the setting up of lunar facilities. Chameakegra had been working on the Hydran government with its various departments. The two of them had been involved with the new energy grid but once the decisions had been made that was running itself. The need for them to work together was minimal. Then this. Out of the blue she’d received this invitation. What was going on?

At first Grrndakegra was going to decline but her curiosity got the better of her. What was Chameakegra up to? It felt as if it might be best to go along and find out. As Beheggakegri had suggested; there might be something to be learnt that she could use against her, something to be found out about her peccadillos. What was there to lose?

Chameakegra looked relaxed, dressed casually with a pleasant blue hue to her scutes. Grrndakegra found herself hoping that her own scutes were suitably friendly. She daren’t look but doubted they were. This visit was making her feel uncomfortable.

‘I call this my Hydran room,’ Chameakegra remarked, seating herself opposite Grrndakegra.

Grrndakegra peered round at the weird room. There was a soft covering underfoot. The walls were coloured and muted lights created a relaxed atmosphere, not that Grrndakegra was at all relaxed; she remained fully on guard.

‘Try the synth,’ Chameakegra suggested.

Grrndakegra took a sip and very nearly spat it out. The stuff certainly wasn’t synth. It tasted like liquid fire.

Chameakegra chuckled at the Giforian’s reaction. ‘Sorry. I should have warned you. Just the barest sip.’

Grrndakegra grimaced and put the tumbler down. Was her host trying to poison her? Was that the plan? She glared at her hostess.

‘It’s Hydran,’ Chameakegra explained. ‘An intoxicating beverage they call whiskey. It certainly has a kick. Probably a bit of an acquired taste. It’s the ethyl alcohol that gives it that kick. I’ve grown to like it. When you get more used to it you can make out all manner of flavours and nuances. Great to relax to.’

Grrndakegra eyed the beaker suspiciously. She did not know if she’d ever want to get used to that burning fluid.

‘I thought it might be an idea to have an evening of Hydran culture,’ Chameakegra explained, sipping her whiskey.

‘So that’s what that noise is,’ Grrndakegra remarked, beginning to twig what this was about.

Chameakegra nodded. ‘You see, I find this culture more fascinating than any other I’ve ever visited. While it is obvious that these Hydrans have some extremely unpleasant attributes I feel it is good to understand that there is another side to them; they are extremely creative.’

‘Well, judging from the taste of that whiskey and this wailing sound I can’t say that this Hydran culture is something I’d be particularly interested in exploring.’

Chameakegra laughed. ‘As with all new things, it takes time to understand something as different and complex as this. I have an advantage. I have been here a long while carrying out the assessment and completely immersed myself in their culture.’

Grrndakegra was impressed with how relaxed and cheerful Chameakegra seemed. She must know that she was in cahoots with Beheggakegri actively working against her, yet here she was being friendly. Nothing made sense. She did not seem to have taken umbrage at his lack of appreciation or derogatory remarks. The past confrontations and harsh words seemed to have been put to one side. This was a complete charm offensive. What was she hoping to achieve? She allowed herself a little smirk. Whatever it was it was doomed to fail.

‘I hoped you might give it a try and come to appreciate a little of what makes them tick.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Grrndakegra replied. ‘They seem like a bunch of primitives to me; primitives with nasty habits.’ But a little part of her was intrigued. So this was Chameakegra’s ploy. She had invited her round to try to win her over to the Hydran’s side. Well that wasn’t going to happen, was it?

Chameakegra did not seem to be in the least put off. ‘What you are standing on is an Indian rug. It was handwoven by Hydrans from animal fur.

Grrndakegra looked at the rough material with its strange designs. Her eyes went a little funny. The scrolly shapes seemed to draw her in to its rich coloration.

‘The sound you are listening to is called classical music. Hydrans regard it as a sophisticated pinnacle of their culture.

Grrndakegra found herself listening to the sounds. She could distinguish a number of different types of noises blending together. There was a rhythm to it, a distinct flow. ‘Sounds like a noise.’

‘Come, look at these,’ Chameakegra rose from her seat and led Grrndakegra over to the oblong shapes on the wall. ‘These are works of art. The Hydrans use pigments to create representations of other Hydrans, animals, landscapes or scenes.’

Chameakegra’s obvious enthusiasm was wasted on her. She peered at the squiggles of colour. ‘I can’t make out any images what-so-ever.’

Chameakegra chuckled again. ‘That’s because this one is an abstract by a Hydran artist called Miro. He drew out imagery from his subconscious and was famous for his bold use of colour and strange esoteric imagery.’

‘Certainly vivid colours,’ Grrndakegra admitted. ‘Can’t make any sense of it though.’

‘Here,’ Chameakegra pointed, ‘That’s a very stylised bird. Joan Miro was well known for his use of child-like imagery.’

‘I can certainly agree with that. A child could certainly have produced that.’

Chameakegra led her along her collection of art and photography then shared a couple of poems. She summoned up the tridee to show some dance and changed the music to a raw simple sound as they wandered through her large collection. ‘They call this rock ‘n’ roll,’ she explained, and this,’ the music changed to a droning sound ‘Indian classical’. They roamed around the room with Chameakegra picking up artefacts from alcoves, encouraging Grrndakegra to handle them, feel their texture, and appreciate their shape and colour, while providing some commentary on their history and importance.

Despite her misgivings Grrndakegra found some of this fascinating. These Hydrans certainly had a range of artistic creations. She could see that, even though most of it was crude and vulgar, others rather repulsive or strange. Chameakegra explained how each of the hundreds of cultures had created their own styles of music, dress, artefacts, dance and art all resulting in an amazing richness. ‘As imaginative as their multiple ways of killing and maiming,’ Grrndakegra retorted.

They returned to their seats and talked. Chameakegra sipped her whiskey and, after a little while, Grrndakegra picked up her tumbler, sniffed the contents and took a tiny sip.

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 12 – Chapter 3 continued

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Cleansing – 3 – Chapter 1 Continued

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Unbeknown to them the Hydrans were being judged. Their future was in Chameakegra’s hands.

The H-Craft Neff was quiet, it’s corridors empty. The agile Xerc were taking the opportunity to carry out maintenance, their lithe blue bodies swarming through the interior ducting and outside over the surface of the craft; probably more to steer clear of being bossed around by being out of the way rather than there being any real need. Best to be busy or at least appear busy. Deck after deck was full of various personnel, harnessing the might of Neff’s enormous processing and information gathering power, engrossed in meticulously sorting and categorising the Hydrans. The arduous task was mainly being carried out by the large lumbering amphibian Leff, who were ideally suited to spending hours handling data,  although there were sprinklings of other races including their amphibian Solarian colleagues, the odd reptilian Giforian or two and even a reptilian Achec and mammalian Jerb. Everyone was incredibly focussed. They all knew the importance of getting this right. They were involved in a revolutionary new experiment. That brought an air of excitement. The department heads, mainly Giforian, Jerb, Achec and Marlan, had very little to do other than join in with their staff in setting up programmes, guiding the AI through the task of separating Hydran personality types. Whenever Chameakegra or her second in command the Minorian Graffa made their rounds the department heads were always eager to engage in sharing their progress. Chameakegra and Graffa listened with feigned interest as their dedicated staff eulogised about their findings.

Of an evening Chameakegra would peruse the accumulating lists as her staff proceeded with the task of refining their programmes and categorising the entire population of Hydra. If the Hydrans were going to have any future then it was necessary to accurately separate the greedy, belligerent, power-mad and narcissistic from the pleasant, well-balanced and creative types. The new process of assessment was lengthy and thorough. It was also highly unusual. If it had not been for Chameakegra’s intervention the process of assessment of the culture as a whole would, as normal, we swift and simple. Following the judgement the Hydrans would either have been fast-tracked into the Federation or quickly eradicated. Chameakegra had taken the process of judging a whole culture to apply it to analysing individuals – something much more complex and difficult. Now they were all paying the price and having to work hard. Interestingly, nobody seemed to be complaining. They were busy. Eight billion Hydrans had to be accurately assessed and categorised.

By far the biggest group of Hydrans were the well-adjusted citizens. The number of creatives and those in need of adjustment were much smaller groups and fairly equal in numbers. Chameakegra liked the way it was going. They were successfully identifying the malevolent. It was what was going to happen next that troubled her. Could greedy and violent be treated? Could a cruel disposition be successfully changed? She wondered.

For the moment, under the ruling, these Hydrans were destined for euthanasia. Chameakegra wondered. The therapists she had at her disposal might just be able to do something. Could she persuade Judge Booghramakegra to give that a try or was she pushing boundaries too far?

Of an evening, in her cabin, Chameakegra found herself pondering the outcome of her plan. Nobody had ever attempted this before. They were in unknown territory. When the mentally disturbed, the violent and avaricious, were removed would Hydran culture settle into a positive mode and blossom? Were the Hydrans inherently good or, once the evil had been cut out, would exactly the same problems start to re-emerge in the ones remaining? Only time would tell.

Chameakegra knew that her reputation hung on the result. Not that she was bothered. The whole Federation would be watching. If this experiment worked it might form the template for future operations. A lot hung on this outcome. All that mattered to Chameakegra was the possibility of preserving much of the best of Hydran culture and art. That is what drove her. She’s felt the worth of that culture: it had touched her deeply.

Soon, her job would be over. When all the Hydrans had been categorised she would hand over to someone appointed to carry out the separation process. That was not an area she would be involved in. A deep sadness welled up when she thought about it. She could only hope that Beheggakegri made the right appointment and the excision was carried out humanely.

Chameakegra sat in her commander’s pexi while the operation went on around her. A green light flashed on her comulator. She had a message.

‘I am intrigued by the possibilities this experiment opens up. For that reason I have taken leave so that I might stay involved. I am eager to witness the outcome. Keep me informed with regular reports so that I can monitor progress. Judge Booghramakegra.’

Chameakegra reread the message as a blue wave of satisfaction spread across her scutes. Perhaps she had an ally?

Fantastic Sci-fi

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I’ve had a whole raft of my best Sci-fi books re-edited and updated. They are all available in multiple formats – Hardback, Paperback, Digital and Audio.

Why not take a look! Enjoy a great read!

New Eden: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798269332932: Books

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

Neanderthal: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron, Goodwin, Opher: 9798267828468: Books

The Trutian Consequences: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798270994846: Books

The Hrretian Gift: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron, Forsythe, Ron: 9798270142254: Books

God’s Bolt: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron Ron: 9798268877885: Books

The Last Idealist on Earth: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798271956256: Books

The Last Two Humans: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798270052034: Books

Elspin: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798269544700: Books

The Pornography Wars: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798270797836: Books

Schizoid Prophet Protocol (The sequel to Quantum Fever): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798271669835: Books

Quantum Fever: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798270353315: Books

The Last Days of Gaia: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798269650685: Books

Farm 703 – The Human Project: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron Ron: 9798271126291: Books

Star: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron Ron: 9798268499285: Books

The Last Two Humans now available as kindle! Sci-fi humour and satire at its best!

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The Last Two Humans eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Will shortly be available in Paperback and Hard back!

THE LAST TWO HUMANS
The Last Two Humans is a satirical, emotionally charged exploration of extinction, love, and the stories we choose to believe. With echoes of Vonnegut, Orwell, and Douglas Adams, it’s a tale of absurdity, tenderness, and the strange hope that survives the end of the world.
Love, extinction, and the absurdity of survival.
Nick and Jenny wake to find themselves trapped in a research enclosure on a distant planet. They don’t know how they got there, or why—but they have each other. And when they make love, the universe takes notice.
Their intimate moment, accidentally broadcast by a rogue alien, goes viral across the galaxy. Suddenly, human sex becomes the hottest commodity in existence. The institute that was about to be shut down is now the centre of a cultural revolution. Politicians pivot, bureaucrats rebrand, and the last two humans become symbols of everything society claims to value: empathy, connection, and the will to survive.
But behind the applause lies a darker truth—opportunism, manipulation, and the rewriting of history. As the rest of humanity is wiped out by a mysterious virus, Nick and Jenny’s quiet resilience becomes a beacon in a world that never meant to save them.

The fantastic sci-fi novel ‘New Eden’ now available in Paperback, Hardback, Kindle and Audio!!

Posted on by Opher

They engineered extinction. The children inherited the Earth.
A genetically tailored virus was meant to cleanse the world. It did. Now, in the ruins of civilisation, a handful of children—immune, innocent, and marked by difference—tend gardens, sing songs, and carry the last flicker of humanity.
As the final survivors fall, one scientist must decide whether to save what remains or vanish with the old world. What blooms in the dome is not just survival—it’s something new.
New Eden is a haunting, redemptive tale of catastrophe and compassion, where the end of one world becomes the fragile beginning of another.

Judgement – New Sci-fi novel

Posted on by Opher

Judgement eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

The Judgement is coming.
They have arrived—beings from beyond the stars, emissaries of a vast Federation that spans the galaxy. Their mission is not conquest, but assessment. Humanity stands trial.
Will we be welcomed into the Federation as equals… or condemned to extinction?
Our record is damning: centuries of war, cruelty, racism, and hate. Yet there is another side—love, harmony, creativity, and the fragile spark of compassion that refuses to die.
The Judge is on her way. She will weigh our worth. She will decide our fate.
The future of the human race hangs in the balance.