The Cleansing – 43 – Chapter 22

Posted on by Opher

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

Doubts and challenges beset the aliens.

Chapter 22 – Musings

Grrndakegra had been told that Chameakegra was a dangerous eccentric who had a few synapses short of a network. Beheggakegri had portrayed her as a maverick fool who had no regard for the process that had kept the Federation safe for hundreds of years. He had depicted the Hydrans as worthless space excrement that required disposing of.

Now Grrndakegra wasn’t quite so sure. She’d been brought in to do a job on both Chameakegra and the Hydrans. Beheggakegri knew she was a stickler for the rules and would do his bidding.

His evening with Chameakegra had left her feeling confused. They were never going to be friends. That was certain. They hadn’t bonded. She found Chameakegra strange. As Beheggakegri had suggested; she was an eccentric. She was a complete maverick too. That was also certain. She hadn’t followed the process, but did that mean she did not believe in the process or was looking to undermine the Federation, as Beheggakegri had indicated? She hadn’t picked up a scent of that. Chameakegra certainly had a different way of working, that was for sure – but she seemed to want the same outcome – a thorough assessment. She couldn’t make her out: she just seemed to have fallen under the spell of Hydran culture which was downright peculiar. But had she learnt anything from the evening that she could use against her? That was questionable.

As for the Hydrans; Beheggakegri had been adamant that they were crying out to be exterminated and Grrndakegra had completely agreed. What she’d seen of them completely backed up Beheggakegri’s assessment. They were everything he’d called them – violent greedy space rats.

That evening of being exposed to the creative side of Hydrans had affected her. Grrndakegra knew that she did not have a single scute that was sensitive to aesthetic awareness. She could not appreciate a masterpiece of a work of art if it came to life and bit her on the tail. But that did not mean that she couldn’t see that others might find certain creations life-affirming. She wasn’t as much of a Philistine to believe that, just because she could not appreciate it, all art had no value. She could at least appreciate that Hydrans did have a rich culture.

Chameakegra had shared the entire gamut of Hydran culture with her and she’d pretty well hated every moment of it – apart from a few things. That whiskey had tasted vile but she’d acquired a little bit of a taste for it. She liked the way it burnt her palate and sent her taste buds crazy. She’d even gone and commandeered a few different bottles of it. There were a lot of subtle nuances of flavour in amongst that first fiery explosion. Certain of the rhythmic noises that Hydrans called music were interesting. She’d found her body jerking around to it. Not that she’d procure any of it. As for the rest; well, she could not find anything good to say – daubings of colour on canvas, anybody could do that – she could ask Quorma to produce artworks that were more pleasing than anything she’d seen the Hydrans come up with. Still – they had a child-like quality that was vaguely interesting. Hydrans did have another side to them. She could see that the spoken word and stories were interesting for some but she found them boring, she couldn’t see the point of any of the sport and while it was interesting to see the way the Hydrans performed complex steps and contorted their bodies into unnatural shapes the dancing just seemed bizarre – either stylised coitus, weird rhythmic moves or peculiar poses. She could not see any purpose for it. Chameakegra had failed to sell it to her even if it had tweaked her interest the tiniest bit.

That wasn’t to suggest that there wasn’t any value to it. She might have hated it but others might have got a lot from it. What had impressed her was that Chameakegra had obviously totally immersed herself in it. Her appreciation of all the Hydran creative arts was genuine. This was no act or subterfuge. Chameakegra one hundred percent believed that this creativity was worthy and worth preserving. Of that there was no doubt.

What Grrndakegra had to decide was whether the creative side of Hydran nature made up for the violence and greed and whether they could ever be acceptable to the Federation. Clearly it didn’t.

But things did not stop there. If it had been as simple as that the judgement would have been clear. The Hydrans would undoubtedly no longer be here. Chameakegra had believed that the Hydrans were redeemable. She had come up with a plan and Judge Booghramakegra had decided, going against normal procedure, to try the experiment out.

That’s where they were.

Beheggakegri had a private vendetta going with Chameakegra, despised the Hydrans, and wanted her to sabotage the operation. That’s what she’d been brought in to do. Beheggakegri was using her to settle his own private vendettas.

Grrndakegra did not like being used. She was beginning to feel conflicted.

‘Was that wise?’

Ron winced and gave Chameakegra a grim look. ‘I don’t know. Liz’s idea. I thought it was worth a risk. I was hoping to at least try to make Billy think.’

‘Is he capable of rational thought?’

Ron chuckled ironically. ‘Yes,’ he looked Chameakegra in the eye. ‘He’s not as stupid as he seems. None of them are. They have their own rational way of looking at things; it’s different to our perspective, that’s all. Billy and his friends are very patriotic and more than a little xenophobic, even racist. Even if they won’t admit it they believe that British people are intrinsically superior to any other breed and that Britain and its culture is worth fighting for. They can’t help that it’s inherent in their upbringing and education. They’ve been taught that everything we’ve done and stand for is better than anything anybody else has done. They have immense pride in Britain.’

‘But surely they can see that this is just shallow tribalism?’ Chameakegra responded, not able to grasp how anybody could think that way. ‘That’s like me saying that Giforians are inherently better than Drefs, Achecs, Marlans or Xercs. That doesn’t make sense. It’s obvious that different races have certain abilities that may be better suited for some tasks but are inferior in other ways. We Giforians understand that all Giforian history is not covered in glory. Our ancestors did not always follow a morally exemplary way of life. We accept that.’

Ron chuckled. ‘That’s not how Billy and his mates think. They’ve been brought up to believe everything British is better. They think the British Empire was the greatest thing that ever happened to the world and that our little island has always been better than any other place on the planet. That makes them think that it is worth fighting for. They want the present to be like some idealised version of the past. The irony is that the past was an absolute nightmare for most people. But they don’t see that. They think they can take you on.’

‘But can’t they see what they are up against? Surely they can see the superiority of our technology. We took over the whole planet and nullified the armoury of every single nation. We can eradicate the whole Hydran race in an instant if we wanted to. There is nothing you can do if we decide to act.’ Chameakegra was mystified.

Ron chuckled again. ‘You might have studied us but that doesn’t mean that you understand us. Billy runs on idealism, not rationality. Humans have an inbuilt desire to fight for what they believe in, even if that is against all the odds, even if that leads to their inevitable demise. It’s called martyrdom and we’ve got a long tradition of self-sacrifice. It’s considered highly honourable.’

‘That’s senseless.’

‘But that has been a factor in human behaviour throughout history. Some of us have always been prepared to face certain death for the sake of a principle or belief.’

Chameakegra struggled with understanding this bizarre concept. ‘So explaining to Billy Smythe that Hydrans are being assessed and if they show signs of violent behaviour they might be eradicated might prove a useless exercise?’

‘Probably,’ Ron conceded, ‘even if he believed me, which I don’t think he did. But there is always the outside chance that something might stick. He might be prepared to give us a little more time. Besides, I could see that Charlene was more pragmatic. Maybe the women might bring some sense to the argument?’

Chameakegra looked confused. The more she learnt about Hydrans the less she understood.

Thursday nights were back to normal now that all restrictions had been lifted. The Ashley Arms bustling with its usual bustling trade. It appeared that everybody wanted to escape the claustrophobia and fear of the alien occupation. Alcohol flowed liberally. Secure in their snug, away from the din, the gang had ensconced themselves safe within their old familiarity.

‘Are you sure it was the Ron Forsythe?’ Denby asked disparagingly. He didn’t believe a word Billy and Charly were feeding him. They were having a laugh.

‘Of course I’m bloody sure,’ Billy replied indignantly. He was getting fed up with Denby’s attitude.

‘It was,’ Charly added. ‘I can vouch for that.’

Everybody still looked a little sceptical, though they gave Charly’s opinion a little more credibility than they did Billy’s. The idea of Ron Forsythe, steward of the planet, dropping in on Billy Smythe, arch big-mouth, seemed a little far-fetched.

‘Anyway,’ Billy pressed on, looking a little hurt and annoyed, ‘he’s only telling me to lay off and give the fucking lizards a chance.’

‘He says that the lizards are assessing us to see if we’re worth saving. If we don’t make the grade they’re going to bump us off,’ Charly informed them.

‘Why’s he siding with them?’ Denby remarked angrily, grudgingly accepting that it might be true that he visited them in person.

‘He says that we should give them a chance to improve things so that we can see that they mean what they say,’ Charly added. ‘He says that we should trust them.’

‘Trust them my arse,’ Denby replied, taking a big gulp of his beer. ‘I’d rather trust a grizzly bear.’

‘Well they’ve done everything they said they were going to do,’ Debbie stated, a little huffily. ‘They’ve introduced cheap electricity and food prices have dived.’

‘If you want to eat that alien muck,’ Denby snarled, rounding on her.

‘There’s nothing wrong with the food they’ve brought in,’ Debbie protested. ‘Me and John like it and it’s supposed to be real healthy.’

‘I like it,’ Foxy chortled. ‘Tastes real good.’

Denby turned and glowered at him as if he was a right old traitor,

‘Perhaps they will make things better?’ Kathy suggested. ‘There hasn’t been a shot fired since they arrived. All them wars. They’ve put a stop to all that.’

‘Taken away our means of fighting back, more like,’ Denby added cynically. ‘Once we’re helpless they’ll change their tune.’

‘Fat lot of good our armies made,’ Debbie pointed out. ‘They took over without any bloody effort. Not a shot fired.’

‘Debbie’s got a point,’ Kathy observed. ‘Even if we had control of all of our armies and airforce and stuff they’d be useless against those bloody lizards. It’d be like slings and arrows against tanks. They brushed us aside as if we didn’t exist.’

‘Resistance is futile,’ Foxy added, doing his best Dalek impression.

‘So what do you think we should do?’ Billy asked, not sounding anywhere near as sure as he had at the beginning.’

‘I think that if we annoy them they’ll probably wipe us out,’ John remarked miserably.

Billy looked nonplussed.

The Time Traveller – Out now!! Paperback, Hardback and Kindle!

Posted on by Opher

The Time Traveller: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798251954647: Books

Billionaire Brian Nether wanted someone to build him a time machine. He found a genius, a tormentor, and a friend in the eccentric Clive Hilditch.
Brian steps into the machine expecting nothing more than a glimpse of the past. Instead, he is hurled into a world that should not exist — a Rome reshaped by his own arrival, a Republic trembling on the edge of empire, and a future that is no longer guaranteed.
Lost in a century of war, ambition, and betrayal, Brian discovers that every choice he makes ripples through time. What appeared straightforward reveals itself to be far more intricate than he had ever anticipated.
His insecurities dictate the man he becomes. And the man he becomes may be far more dangerous than the man he left behind.
As timelines fracture and history bends around him, Brian must decide whether he is Rome’s saviour… or the architect of its darkest age.
History can be rewritten. But time always takes its toll.

I’d be delighted if you take a look!

Thank You for the REVIEWS and ratings!

Posted on by Opher

Reviews are the lifeblood of an author. We live or die by them.

I check my reviews on Amazon regularly – not out of vanity – but to hear what people actually think about my books and writing.

Writing is a long, lonely business. When you are working on a book you are very subjective. In no position to judge its worth.

It gives me great pleasure to read what people think of my books – that gives me the impetus and enthusiasm to go on.

My new book – The Time Traveller – was published yesterday. I await the first review with bated breath!

THANK YOU for leaving reviews on Amazon or Goodreads. I read every one and they give me sustenance.

Amazon.co.uk : Opher Goodwin

Amazon.co.uk : Ron Forsythe

The Time Traveller eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

The Time Traveller – now available in 3 formats

Posted on by Opher

I wanted to put a different slant on a hackneyed Sci-fi theme. I think I achieved that. A fast-paced novel that focusses on human nature and is packed with adventure. Thanks to Brian Beck for the superb editing and proof reading!!

Here it is! Indulge yourself! Cheap at half the price. A bargain!

Billionaire Brian Nether wanted someone to build him a time machine. He found a genius, a tormentor, and a friend in the eccentric Clive Hilditch.
Brian steps into the machine expecting nothing more than a glimpse of the past. Instead, he is hurled into a world that should not exist — a Rome reshaped by his own arrival, a Republic trembling on the edge of empire, and a future that is no longer guaranteed.
Lost in a century of war, ambition, and betrayal, Brian discovers that every choice he makes ripples through time. What appeared straightforward reveals itself to be far more intricate than he had ever anticipated.
His insecurities dictate the man he becomes. And the man he becomes may be far more dangerous than the man he left behind.
As timelines fracture and history bends around him, Brian must decide whether he is Rome’s saviour… or the architect of its darkest age.
History can be rewritten. But time always takes its toll.

The Time Traveller: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798251951394: Books

The Time Traveller eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

The Cleansing – 40 – Chapter 20 continued

Posted on by Opher

It seems that the dirty tricks, political scheming and intrigue is almost as bad in aliens as it is in humans.

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

With rising annoyance Grrndakegra flicked her communicator on. The image of Beheggakegri consolidated as she prepared herself for another infuriating session.

‘I thought we need to get our heads together to work out some tactics,’ Beheggakegri said in a far more conciliatory tone.

‘I’m open to ideas.’ Grrndakegra noted the more satisfactory blue scutes and lowered crest. Seemingly Beheggakegri was in a better mood.

‘We got some good evidence together out of that last protest action even if it didn’t quite produce the desired effect.’

‘So what do you want me to do? I’m promoting the dissent and enabling protest. I arranged the violence. I can’t do much more.’ Grrndakegra was still angry at the way she had been treated.

‘Well, more of that wouldn’t go amiss,’ Beheggakegri mused, ‘but I was thinking that we need to find a way of undermining Chameakegra.’

Grrndakegra stared at the image above his tridee. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Couldn’t we find a way to demonstrate that she is closely in cahoots with the Hydrans? That she is getting some personal gain?’

‘What profit can she possibly be making from an arrangement with the Hydrans?’

‘I don’t know,’ Beheggakegri seemed to be floating ideas, ‘maybe it would indicate some psychological character flaw that we can exploit. Perhaps she has a predisposition to enjoying violence or has developed some Hydran-like lust for possessions? Anything that would explain her obsession with these vermin?’

Grrndakegra considered Beheggakegri’s suggestions. Was there any mileage in anything like that? She thought not. But then…

The Cleansing – 39 – Chapter 20

Posted on by Opher

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

Trying to talk rationally with populists is similar to arguing with a newt.

Chapter 20 – Reactions

‘I don’t know what the hell this is,’ John muttered as he dug into his dinner, but I like it.’

‘It’s that new stuff they’ve brought in,’ Debbie explained. ‘Virtually giving it away down at the supermarket. Meant to provide everything a body needs.’

‘That alien stuff then?’

‘Probably. Nobody seems to know.’

John shrugged. It tasted alright to him. ‘I’ve been given a big pay hike,’ John remarked. ‘Seems the busses are getting big subsidies.’ He looked up from his plate. Alright with me. We’ll probably be able to afford a lot of those things we’ve had on hold.’

‘Particularly as the energy prices are through the floor. Our electricity charges are almost non-existent.’

‘They trying to buy us off?’

‘Who cares?’ Debbie replied. ‘As long as we’re doing OK.’

The door bell sounded.

‘Don’t worry!’ Charlene shouted, ‘I’ve got it.’

She opened the door to find a man standing on the doorstep. She looked him up and down. ‘You know, you look the spitting image of that guy the lizards have brought in to run the government, Ron something or other.’

‘That’s because I am him – Ron Forsythe,’ he held out his hand.

Charlene stood completely flummoxed. It’s not every day that you get a world leader turning up at your front door; even if they are some bogus puppet put in place by an alien invasion. She was flummoxed.

Ron allowed his extended hand to slowly return to his side. ‘I was wondering if I might have a word with Billy, Billy Smythe?’

Charly finally managed to get her brain back into gear, shut her mouth, all agitated, she nervously brushed herself down with both hands, not taking her eyes off him. It was quite one thing to see someone on the telly and something else when they unexpectedly turn up on your doorstep. Her natural hospitality kicked in. ‘Of course. Of course, do come in er Mr Forsythe. I’ll, er, I’ll get him.’ With that she stood aside and ushered him into the house.

Charly hustled him through to the front room and sat him down. ‘Would you like a drink Mr Forsythe,’ she simpered.

‘Cup of tea would be nice. Milk two sugars.’ He smiled. It was a tactic well-used by salesmen. If you were nursing a drink they couldn’t throw you out.

Charly rushed off. He heard her shout up the stairs: ‘Billy! Billy! Someone to see you!’ Then there were sounds from the kitchen. He heard Billy tramp down the stairs followed by voices in the kitchen, a few expletive-ridden exclamations and clattering.

A simpering Charly reappeared carrying a tray with three cups, a jug of milk, a teapot and small plate of chocolate bourbons. ‘The biscuits were all we had, I’m afraid.’

Billy trailed in behind her and  scowled at Ron as if this was some kind of a joke.

Charly placed the tray on the coffee table. She poured Ron a cup of tea in a china cup on a flowery saucer, adding the milk and sugar as requested. Then she pushed the plate of biscuits towards him and sat down next to Billy.

Billy had sat himself on the sofa opposite not taking his eyes off Ron, a suspicious frown on his face. He wasn’t sure it was really Ron Forsythe not that it really mattered. He was not going to be fazed by that stooge.

Ron rose from the armchair he’d been directed to and extended his hand to Billy. ‘Ron Forsythe.’

Billy regarded the hand with a tight-lipped grimace  but half rose from the settee to give him a cursory shake. ‘Billy.’

The two men studied each other. ‘Charlene said you wanted to see me?’

‘That’s right,’ Ron lifted his teacup and took a sip. ‘I think we need to talk.’ He carefully placed the cup back on its saucer.

‘What have we got to talk about?’ Billy asked belligerently, not anywhere near as unsettled by Ron’s presence as Charlene had been.

Ron took a slow measured sip from the tea again, never taking his eyes off Billy, and then deliberately placed the teacup and saucer back on the coffee table and leaned forward, lacing his hands together. ‘I think we’ve got lots to talk about.’

‘Is that some kind of threat?’ Billy had turned bright red.

Charlene was sitting nervously watching this confrontation not sure which way it might go. She could see Billy was all riled up. He didn’t like being bossed around.

Ron sat back and smiled. ‘No threat Billy. I haven’t come here with threats. I’ve come to talk things through. To ask you to give us some time.’

‘Some time?’ Billy looked like a giant squib that someone had just lit the blue touch paper. It was his turn to lean forward and look menacing. He poked his finger at Ron. ‘I’m not having a bunch of lizards taking my country off me! If they think they can waltz in and send some fucking lackey round to get me off their backs, they’ve got another think coming.’

Charlene watched wide-eyed, half horrified and half really proud of her Billy. He was standing up to the newly appointed world leader. Who would have believed that? Good for her Billy.

Ron sat back and pursed his lips deep in thought as to how he was going to defuse this. It was no surprise. He’d expected it. He could see that Billy was a fiery, combative character. He knew this was not going to be a picnic. It was a forlorn hope but he’d figured that it couldn’t do any harm.

Ron spread his hands in surrender. ‘I haven’t come here to have an argument, Billy. I was hoping we could have a talk and reach some kind of compromise.’

‘You can’t compromise. There isn’t a compromise when it comes to giving up your country.’

Charlene was looking from one to the other.

‘Can’t you just give me a few minutes of your time and listen to what I have to say?’ Ron spoke in a quiet conciliatory tone.

Charlene was fixed on Billy, waiting for him to decide. The tea was untouched. A pregnant pause hung in the air.

‘Alright,’ Billy muttered grudgingly, finally leaning back, ‘I’ll hear you out. But I’m telling you right from the start; I’m not going to give an inch to these fucking lizards.’

Ron nodded. ‘Thank you Billy,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘I’ll try to keep it short.’ He lent forward in a conspiratorial manner, elbows on knees and hands together, fingers interlaced in a non-confrontational stance. His eyes sought out Billy’s. ‘I know you think I’m some kind of tool appointed by the lizards.’ He shrugged. ‘In truth I’m just a writer. I don’t know how the hell I’ve found myself in this position.’ A little smile creased his lips. ‘But this has put me into very close contact with Commander Chameakegra who is head of this occupation.’  He paused to check Billy was still focussed on what he was saying. ‘And I don’t shy from calling it an occupation. That’s what it is.’

Billy made a tight-lipped grimace.

‘The thing is Billy, you have to know what you’re up against,’ he pressed on despite seeing Billy’s expression darkening. ‘These aliens are from a massive galactic Federation. They have powers we can’t imagine. Their technology is incredibly advanced. They make us look primitive. As you put it – they simply waltzed in and took over without a shot being fired. They nullified all our military capability just like that.’

‘If you think that…’

Ron raised his hand. ‘No. Please hear me out. This is too serious. There are things you should know and consider.’

He could see Charlene’s eyes flash Billy a signal. Billy took a deep breath and controlled himself, subsiding back into his seat.

‘This Federation seek out intelligent life around the galaxy,’ Ron explained. ‘They assess it and either incorporate it into their Federation or,’ he paused for effect, seeking out Billy’s eye, ‘or… they exterminate it.’ He watched for Ron’s reaction and could see Charlene looking startled in the background.

‘That’s right. We were and are being assessed. They will wipe us out if we are considered too violent.’

‘Are you really saying…’ Billy blustered.

‘That’s right,’ Ron interrupted. ‘They have the power to wipe us off the face of the planet as easily as removing a smudge from a window pane. With ease. Nothing we can do about it. They are here trying to make a decision. There are those among them who already think we are too violent. They’d do away with us just like that. There are others, like Commander Chameakegra, who want to give us a chance.’

‘How do you know this?’ Charlene asked, a startled look on her face. Looking from one to the other.

‘How do you know this?’ Billy asked aggressively, leaning forward. ‘I don’t believe you.’  Charlene touched him on the arm.

‘I know this because I have been meeting regularly with Commander Chameakegra,’ Ron explained. ‘That’s the way it is.’

‘You would say that,’ Billy blustered. ‘She picked you. She put you in place. She’s using you. Spinning you a yarn.’

Ron nodded. ‘Yes she did put me in place. But she’s not using me.’ He held Billy’s eyes with an intense stare that he hoped came across as sincerity. ‘And I believe her.’

Billy glowered at him. Charlene looked scared.

‘You’ve seen their power. You’ve seen what they can do.’ He left that hanging. ‘What is dangling in the air is our whole future. If they find us ‘worthy’ they will take us into their Federation and help us to develop. They offer us a future where everybody has a great life; there’s no poverty, no wars, we have clean energy and new incredible technology.’

‘They won’t give us our country though, will they?’ Billy spat the words.

‘We will be free to govern ourselves and take an equal place in the Federation and we will be at liberty to exercise our cultural values.’

Billy made a silent sneer.

Ron ignored that. ‘If we are deemed too violent then they will simply eradicate us all.’ Ron sighed deeply. ‘We have a clear choice. It’s on the edge of a knife. What we do in the next days and weeks will determine whether we live or die.’

Charlene was staring at Billy with a terrified expression on her face.

‘Billy, I’m imploring you,’ Ron leaned forward and fixed Billy with an intense glare. ‘That violence at Clacton played right into the hands of those who want to get rid of us. We have a delicate situation. Commander Chameakegra is running an experiment that has never been attempted before. She believes in us. She wants to give us a chance.’ He saw Charlene’s fingers tighten on Billy’s arm. He pressed on. ‘She has initiated an experiment. The people who are responsible for the terrible state of our world have been removed. Chameakegra is trying to see if the violent, greedy and power-mad can be reprogrammed and rehabilitated. She believes they can. She wants to prove that with good education, sound government and a new positive philosophy we are capable of being much better than we have been. She believes that humanity has a good side – a side that is empathetic and compassionate – a side that is creative and worth saving.’

Billy did not look convinced by Charlene looked like a frightened rabbit.

Ron sighed and slumped back in his seat, spreading his hands. ‘All I am asking is that we give her a chance. We give her some time. That we judge her by the fruits of her efforts.’ His pleading eyes were meeting a stony resistance. ‘Let us see if the rehabilitation process works and those violent and greedy people come back changed for the better. Let us see if the new energy system, the technology and education bring real improvements. Let’s look to a bright future and see if we can’t banish war and poverty.’

‘So we sit back while they consolidate their control? That’s what you’re asking?’ Billy growled. ‘So they can take our country away.’

The Cleansing – 38 – Chapter 19 continued

Posted on by Opher

Detailing the life of a reluctant leader who is giving his all in order to make things work; to make things better. We need more of them.

I write Sci-fi in order to illustrate the human condition.

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

That evening Ron took much needed time off. He was burnt out. Sitting in his favourite armchair in front of his favourite log burner, sipping coffee (three sweeteners plenty of his favourite barista oat milk) by the side of his favourite (and only) wife with Woody at his feet he relaxed. Casting a wistful glance over towards his silent computer with its sad looking office chair, all beat up and worn out, he hadn’t realised how contented he had been stringing words together for nobody to read and relaxing in his quiet orderly life.

‘You look knackered, Ron.’

He smiled at Liz. ‘I stopped being knackered a long time ago. I’ve descended into the fiftieth level of total oblivion.’

‘You need to look after myself.’

‘Look after myself. I’m so busy I’ve forgotten who I am.’

Liz looked worried.

‘There are a million things to do. So much going on. I have to check all the new departments are working. We’re overhauling education. You should see the new techniques and equipment the Federation are bringing in. And they’re creating completely new schools. Amazing. The energy plants are starting up. They call it quantum power. Beyond me. But those little blue Xerces swarm over things and wallop a whole new plant is up and running in no time. They are genius at constructing, so nimble and strong. Schools, power plants, factories, homes, bridges. You name it. The changes are phenomenal.’ Ron was rattling off like a machine gun with a glued trigger. ‘Of course it’s causing no end of kickback. People don’t like change. They’re railing about being banned from various areas. Lots of gripes about the military being dismantled. The biggest thing all over the world is the loss of nationality. I just don’t know what we can do about that. You can’t please some people no matter what you do.’

‘They’re worried, that’s all,’ Liz murmured, reaching over to pat him on the arm. ‘You can’t expect this degree of change without some kick back.’

Ron smiled at her. She was always such a calm, rational head. Just sharing things was a relief. He sipped his coffee, nectar of the gods, and stared at the soothing flames in the log fire.

‘Another huge worry is these bloody protests,’ he frowned deeply, staring into the depths of the fire then looked sideways at Liz. ‘This Billy Smythe is really stirring things up. There are millions following him on line. It’s becoming a monster.’

‘People have to have an outlet for their feelings. That’s good – a safety valve.’

‘Not like this it isn’t. Every boot boy in the country is latching on to it.  That last one at Clacton was appalling. There was all manner of violence. It made us look like a bunch of savages. Just shocking. The thing is that these idiots don’t realise that we are still being judged. There are people in the Federation who want to do away with us.’

‘What? This Commander Chameakegra?’ Liz looked shocked. ‘I thought she was friendly?’ Her eyes opened wide as she stared at Ron, beginning to understand what had made him so scared.

‘No, not Chameakegra,’ Ron said with a weary sigh. ‘She’s fine. There are others. And she’s none too sure about this Commander Grrndakegra who’s carrying out the round up. I think she thinks she’s been put in place to do a job on us.’

‘So, what can you do?’

‘Well all this protest is playing into their hands. The violence is proving their case for them. They want to prove that we’re a violent bunch of yobs who deserve to be exterminated.’

Liz sat pensively staring at the fire before looking across at Ron. ‘You could try going round to see this Billy character, explain things to him and see if you can’t make him see sense.’

Ron looked thoughtful.

How I write

Posted on by Opher

I write out of inspiration and compulsion.

It starts with an idea. That buzzes around my head for a while. I wait until I have another idea and marry them together. Then I place my ideas in a setting. Then a character comes to mind.

When I have those dominoes in place I shove the first one.

Thar first word sets the process in motion. The words tumble out. The ideas develop, the characters spawn and a story coalesces out of my subconscious.

For the duration of the writing I live and breath the story. The characters develop, the setting becomes richer and the story evolves. Often I have no idea what comes next but my subconscious seems to know. The dominoes tumble and one knocks another as I frantically attempt to keep up. It’s intense.

The idea for my latest book – The Time Traveller – came to me a long while ago. I had this idea of going back in time with modern weapons and the effect that would have on ancient armies. It felt too comic book but the idea wouldn’t go away. My mind kept mulling over the thought of missiles and bazookas against ancient armies. I imagined Hannibal and the Punic wars. Then I started thinking about the effect of that power on the human mind. A twentieth century nobody suddenly finding themselves the most powerful man on the planet. What would be the effect on his psyche.

My character had to be rich in order to afford to build a time machine.

I had to have a scientific genius from the backstreets who just needed the money and backing but who did not trust governments.

I chose the Punic Wars as the setting.

It ran from there. I wrote the first draft in eleven days. It flowed and developed a life of its own. I rewrote it in a further four days. It is currently being edited.

The Cleansing – 36 – Chapter 19

Posted on by Opher

I was looking to create an honest, competent Head of State, who wasn’t in it for himself, didn’t want the position, wasn’t interested in wealth or power and was trying to make the world a better place. I’m sure they’re out there!

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

Chapter 19 – Plans

The meeting in Ron’s office seemed more urgent than usual. Chameakegra entered and took her seat at the table, unwrapping a thin laminated sheet that was apparently her computer. She looked over expectantly.

Ron came over and took his place. This was more formal than usual. They had usually relaxed in the more comfortable seating – his a softly cushioned armchair and hers a specially designed seat to accommodate her tail.

Ron gave Chameakegra a quizzical look. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘We have to get things moving fast,’ Chameakegra explained, indicating that they did not have time for niceties.

‘But what you are trying to do is extremely radical,’ Ron protested, taken aback at what he took as implied criticism. ‘You cannot implement changes of this magnitude overnight. Even with your technology and workers it will take time. We are talking about changing peoples’ mind sets. That’s massive.’

Chameakegra regarded him with a cool quizzical expression and sighed deeply. In her opinion these Hydrans seemed worse at accepting change than drangling Drefs.

‘The protests, at camps and on-line, are beginning to build and create a groundswell.’ Chameakegra observed looking concerned.

‘So I noticed,’ Ron had been appalled at the scenes he had witnessed in Clacton. ‘I suggest that it would be a good thing to get the camps emptied and all those people processed and returned,’ he observed, taking an adversarial stance. ‘Those camps are the focus for a lot of this trouble and the missing people are a cause for all manner of conspiracy.’

Chameakegra eyed the Hydran and wondered if it wasn’t time to level with him. Could he be trusted? A lot more information might serve to bring him firmly on board but what might his reaction be? It was so hard to tell with these aliens. All species were different and, despite all her studies, Hydrans remained unpredictable. She made her decision.

‘The things is Ron, you don’t realise how important this is.’

Ron frowned.

‘This is existential.’

Ron raised his eyebrows.

‘I was sent here to carry out an assessment.’

‘I know that.’

‘But I do not believe you fully understand the gravity of the situation; that assessment was to decide whether your race is worthy or not. If they are deemed too violent they will be exterminated.’ She waited for the impact of that stark statement to register. Then she proceeded to explain. ‘The Federation sets out to protect itself. We are a tolerant equal society spread right across the galaxy. We cannot afford to incorporate races that will spread violence and disorder. If we come across a race that is likely to cause the Federation trouble we simply erase it. That’s been our policy.’ She frowned across at Ron, her facial plates taking on a pink, sincere colouration. Not that he could have interpreted that. ‘You Hydrans were very nearly erased and everything is still very much in the balance.’ She did not mention her own part in saving them from annihilation. ‘There are powerful forces out there who would like to terminate this experiment and put an end to all this. That is the process. Time is not on our side. If there is much more of this violence it will tip the balance.’

Chameakegra watched Ron’s reaction. His face had blanched. ‘I thought that assessment had already taken place?’

‘It has,’ Chameakegra stated. ‘You were found wanting. It came very close.’

‘So, if these changes do not result in a drastic improvement you are telling me that all humanity will be wiped out?’ Ron was shocked. He had not contemplated this. He’d thought the assessment was over and they were building for the future. He did not know that future was still in the balance.

Chameakegra did not need to respond.

‘How long have we got?’ Ron’s worried face searched Chameakegra’s scaly face seeking an answer.

‘With every passing protest we have less time.’

Ron’s mind was racing. ‘Re-educating a population takes a long time. We can’t get results overnight. The idea of a global government is bad enough. We can alleviate some of the unrest by promoting cultural differences and giving people their national identities.’

Chameakegra looked sceptical. ‘I’m not against keeping some cultural identity. Perhaps a gradual move to a global identity is alright, as long as we eliminate this tribal culture that is so damaging. But that is by the by. Right now we have to prevent further outbreaks of violence. That is fuelling Beheggakegri’s position. Much more and he will act.’

‘Beheggakegri?’  This was all becoming increasingly hard to comprehend.

‘Beheggakegri is the head of UFOR…’

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.