The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books
Alien intrigue and populist revolt. The chickens are coming home to roost! I wanted to illustrate human nature in both the actions and thoughts of the aliens and the humans too.
Chapter 23 – Action
Beheggakegri was unable to settle. He was even off his food. The last few committee meetings had been unpleasant. A schism had opened between him and the rest of them, Sang in particular. In a way it had always been there. He’d told them what to do and they’d deferred. This was different. He still told them what to do but he was never certain that they were going to do it. He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just his imagination but he detected an air of defiance. They were plotting. He could sense it. Biding their time. The lasers were out. When the time was right they’d slice him into lumps. He knew it.
While he was giving out his instructions he found himself studying them one by one. Which one was the ringleader? It had to be Sang. He knew where all the bungles were buried. When would he strike? Were the others all behind him?
The tension was palpable.
In the evening he found himself picking at his food, even rejecting the new dainties Limo was serving up. He could not settle. This was all that Chameakegra’s fault – the drangling slub. If only he could rid himself of her he could decisively do away with the Hydrans with a fine display of power, re-establish control and get back to the way things were. That Chameakegra was the key. She’d made him look weak. If only her drangling shuttle would blow itself up.
He sat bolt upright. His brain was whirling.
Billy was already sitting at the kitchen table waiting. It was Thursday; his favourite day.
Charly was serving up the sausage and mash. The Smythes were not about to try any of that alien muck – even if they were virtually giving it away for nothing. They’d rather die.
She placed his laden plate down on the table and carried her own round to the other side.
Before she’d even sat herself down Billy had banged on the ketchup and was diving in, an intent expression on his face as he carved off a chunk of sausage, scooped up the mash and dipped it in the sauce.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ Charlene remarked thoughtfully, cutting up her sausage in a more genteel manner.
‘What about?’ Billy looked across at her as he crammed a mouthful of best British beef sausage into his mouth.
Charlene paused reflectively, a slice of sausage with a small dollop of mash on the back of her fork. ‘What that Ron Forsythe was saying.’
Billy chewed briefly and swallowed. ‘Oh him.’
‘It’s not every day that you get the leader of the whole world in your front room,’ she replied almost indignantly.
Billy sneered, already cutting more sausage. ‘He’s no more leader of the world than our auntie Ada. He’s a stooge put in place by those aliens.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Charly stuck her nose in the air, her tasteful forkful suspended in mid-air. ‘What he said made a lot of sense.’
‘What? That we should kow-tow to a bunch of aliens?’ He forked another big mouthful in.
‘He didn’t say that though, did he?’ Charly persisted, finally raising the fork to her mouth and taking the food.
‘He said we’d should stop fucking protesting and do what they say,’ Billy reminded her morosely.
‘He said that they are incredibly powerful; that they are assessing us and could wipe the lot of us out if we don’t watch our step.’ Charly had been very uneasy at that idea. At first it hadn’t seemed real – like the idea of another world war isn’t real – but the things Ron Forsythe had told them seemed more real as she mulled it over more. She couldn’t get it out of her head. What if the lizards were really judging us and decided to wipe us all out? There was probably nothing we could do about it.
‘Pah! Baloney!’ Billy exclaimed, irritably cutting off another chunk of sausage. His face darkened. All this talk of Ron Bloody Forsythe and aliens was spoiling the meal that he’d been looking forward to.
Charly primly sliced another piece of sausage and daubed some mash on to it with her knife. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she muttered, shaking her head worriedly. ‘We’ve seen what they can do. That new hospital the little blue men have put up in no time at all is absolutely amazing. It would have taken us years to build and cost billions.’ She peered across at Billy. ‘They took over without a single shot. Just like that. We’re helpless.’
‘Phhhh!!’ Billy grimaced and forked another mouthful in. He really didn’t want to hear all this defeatist nonsense, especially not coming from Charly.
‘He said that we should back off for a bit and see if they are as good as their word,’ Charly bristled. It was so hard to engage Billy in any kind of discussion. He was so pig-headed.
Billy laid his knife and fork down, face dark and angry. ‘That stupid lackey can say what he likes. If he had his way he’d have us rolling over and inviting them in for a cup of tea. Fucking idiot. They are using his to control us. They want us nice and docile. None of that bollocks was worth the bother!’ He picked his cutlery up. That was the end of it. He wanted to eat.
‘Except he was right,’ Charlene did not know when to stop. ‘That last demo at Clacton was used by a bunch of bully boys. That violence was horrible. And if what Ron Forsythe said is true is playing right into the hands of the people who want to kill us.’
Billy banged his fist down hard on the table causing Charly to jump. ‘Enough!’
He could relax. All the departments were beginning to work. Ron was astounded. How had Chameakegra managed to select the right people to do the job? Then he thought back to what she’d told him about the assessment process. Incredibly, the thousands of crew on the Neff had, using the unbelievable resources of her supercomputer, had somehow analysed the character and abilities of every human on the planet. That’s how they had successfully managed to extract all the ‘bad eggs’. Chameakegra had been able to slot the most capable into place. This world government was as close to perfection as you could get. Each post was carefully selected on their abilities in connection to the role required. Forget democracy and elections. This was obviously a far better process. Except it left him with one unanswered question – how on earth had he slipped through?
Not only were the government departments bedding in to become efficient operations transforming the way government operated with efficiency and resolve that was nothing short of astounding, but the full resources of the Neff had been brought to bear to assist. They all had a supercomputer on tap. Nimble blue Xerces swarmed over construction projects, large lumbering Leff coordinated and manipulated, Giforians, Def, Solarians, Arkers, Marlans, Minorians and Jerb scurried around doing whatever was required. Chameakegra strode around overseeing the project in her intense single-minded manner. This was her baby and she fully intended to see it mature into adulthood.
Of Grrndakegra Ron saw little. The Giforian Commander kept her distance, restricting her operations to the extraction and rehabilitation process. Ron couldn’t tell them apart if he saw them stalking the corridors of New Hope –the name they had given to the World Government building on Turtle Bay that had once been the UN headquarters. But then he couldn’t tell the differences between any of the various races of aliens. It was only when there were a few of the same race together that he was able to discern nuances in facial characteristics. That led to a few embarrassing exchanges in the corridors of New Hope when he thought he had spotted Chameakegra only to discover it was another female Giforian altogether. He’d learn.
The efficiency of government meant that he could relax a little; he did not have to be hands-on with every aspect. He could delegate with a high degree of faith that things would get done properly. In his experience that was remarkable. There was no pulling in different directions. Everyone was on board united behind a shared vision. He’d never worked in an organisation quite like it. All the places he’d worked in had different factions all wanting different things, blaming everything that went wrong on management and doing their best to undermine and place obstacles. Workplaces resembled war zones. This was different. There was a shared vision, trust and efficiency.
With the government working efficiently, even if progress appeared slow because of the immensity of the task, Ron could turn his full attention to countering the protests and attempting to ensure that any ensuing violence did not bring down the wrath of UFOR on them. He could fully focus on Billy Smythe.
