The Cleansing 14 – Chapter 4 continued

Posted on by Opher

Introducing a little intrigue and dissent can boost the interest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all went quiet, contemplating the future and wondering.

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

They all stared at him.

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

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

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

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

The Cleansing 13 – Chapter 4 (The Broadcast)

Posted on by Opher

I wanted to use the novel to take a dispassionate view of humanity – our successes and failures – to look at us with an objective eye as a superior alien might do.

Chapter 4 – The Broadcast

‘People of Hydra,’ unlike Grrndakegra’s frightening image of herself, Chameakegra had carefully chosen a shot of the solar system in all its glory as the backdrop to her broadcast. She hoped the beauty of the stars and planets might produce a soothing effect. The last thing she wanted was to scare the life out of the Hydrans.
‘My name is Chameakegra and I am the Commander of the Federation mission to the planet we call Hydra, the water world. The Federation is an intergalactic association of intelligent life. I work for UFOR – the United Federation of Races. Our intention is to find intelligent life, nurture it, and incorporate it into the fraternity of the Federation.’

This was at least partially true. There was no need, at this point, to terrify them by mentioning judgements and the weeding out of unsuitable species.
‘We are aware that this intervention will have caused you great stress. I would like to assure you that we mean you no harm. This is not an invasion. The people of the Federation are peaceful. We are here to assist you to a better future. We want you to prosper and will restore your full autonomy in due course. For the next day or two we would like you to stay at home, stay off the streets, and not go about your usual business. We will inform you when it is time to go back to work and get your lives back to normality. For the time being schools, shops, and offices will be closed. This will only be for a day or two. Do not worry. Things will soon return to how they were.’

Chameakegra paused to allow what she had said to sink in. There was a lot more she wanted to convey, but she did not want to overload them. In their shocked state they were not likely to be receptive, but she figured some explanation was better than none. If nothing else, the positive message and soothing tone might allay fears.

‘For a short time we will be taking control of your planet so that we can improve your institutions, education, manufacturing, science, and technology. We bring many wonderful gifts. You will shortly see that your lives will run on a far better footing. You will be more prosperous. The quality of your lives will greatly improve. When that interim period is over we will return the planet to you and hope that you may wish to voluntarily join our Federation and take your place as equal members of our galactic community.’

She thought it best to confront their fears directly, and Grrndakegra’s broadcast, full on.
‘We are aware that our appearance might seem frightening to you, but I would like to assure you that we are not at all scary. We are people just like you, and our intentions are friendly and peaceful.’

Chameakegra’s voice was so low and smooth it almost purred.
‘In the short term some of the things that will happen may seem frightening, but I would like to reassure you that they are for your benefit. You might not fully understand or appreciate how this will help you, but we are hopeful that in time you will come to see the wisdom of our actions.’

She had decided to tackle the thorny issue of the military and attempt to turn it into a positive.
‘We have already completely nullified all military bases across the entire globe. There will no longer be wars or conflict between nations.’

She allowed that to embed itself into their minds. Surely that had to be a big plus. War was the most terrible scourge. Nobody liked it, yet she could understand how the removal of their defences would leave the Hydrans feeling vulnerable. Could she turn it into a plus?

The next issue was one that had to be addressed – probably the most difficult of all. Hydrans were tribal and, at a stroke, she was telling them their tribalism was over and that they had lost all jurisdiction over their own destiny. That was hard for them to take, but it was best to state the facts and face it head on.
‘We have suspended all governments and political parties. There will no longer be any artificial division into nations. All Hydrans will be united into one global community. In a short while we will enable a world government to be constituted. We know that this will help you to prosper.’

She knew this part of her announcement was a possible negative for many Hydrans, but that goylit had to be grasped. Now she was poised to come up with a proposition that might prove even harder for them to take. She had to prepare them for what was about to happen in the hopes it might soften the blow.
‘In a while we shall be removing those elements we have identified as holding your progress back. I can assure you all that nothing unpleasant will happen to these individuals. They will be removed in order for us to enable their rehabilitation. The overly greedy, the belligerent and violent, those maddened by lust for power, and those with criminal intentions will be re‑educated and returned in a form preferable for themselves and for the good of your world. We aim to leave you with a fairer, friendlier, and more pleasant society based on compassion and equality.’

Chameakegra hoped that sounded suitably vague and positive. She now had to leave things on a positive note. Her purring voice was laden with sincerity.
‘Once again we apologise for the short‑term distress we have caused. I can only reassure you that this will be temporary. We in the Federation look forward to a bright future in which Hydrans are welcomed into our fold. We promise a future of prosperity and the sharing of science and technology that can only be dreamed of. We ask for your cooperation during this difficult transition. We hope that you can understand and bear with the disruption of these early stages. Thank you.’

The vista of planets and stars continued for a short while before fading away.

Chameakegra played back the broadcast and grimaced. It was crap. But at least it was five hundred times better than the one Grrndakegra had made. While it might not win over many Hydrans, at least it was unlikely to send them into fits of terror. She pressed the button to put it out.

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

The Cleansing 11 – Chapter 3

Posted on by Opher

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

Chapter 3 – Control and Lack of Control

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Just order her!’ Beheggakegri bellowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grrndakegra stared questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why?’ Grrndakegra seemed genuinely bemused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Cleansing 10 – end of Chapter 2

Posted on by Opher

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

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

This is the end of Chapter 2:

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

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

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

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

Chameakegra left that thinly veiled threat dangling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were no choices left. They waited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Fuck,’ Charlene mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ian Dury book – now out on Dec 31st

Posted on by Opher

Sorry about the delay. There was a problem at the publishers!

Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books

The Cleansing 9 – Chapter 2 continued

Posted on by Opher

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

Chapter 2 continued:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chameakegra nodded, eyes fixed on the Giforian.

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

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

Apologies – Ian Dury Book delay – but reasons to be cheerful!

Posted on by Opher

Hi everyone, sorry about this. There has been a problem at the printers. The Ian Dury book is delated until 31st December.

I have spoken to Sonibond publishers. It is available on eBook now and out in paperback on the 31st.

Sorry again for the delay. Very frustrating.

Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books

Opher Goodwin’s Top Rock Music Books

Posted on by Opher

Opher Goodwin’s Top Rock Music Books

Here is a list of some of my top Rock Music books (all available in paperback or kindle and some in Hardback):

Phil Ochs On Track: Every Album, Every Song  Phil Ochs was the ‘The Prince of Protest’ in the sixties. The only real rival to Bob Dylan, he was the archetypal Greenwich Village topical songwriter. Whether protesting the Vietnam War or campaigning for civil rights, workers’ rights and social justice, Phil was always there. Phil was the man to take up causes, write songs, play at rallies and even risk his life. His clear voice and sense of melody, linked with his incisive lyrics, created songs of beauty and power. As his career progressed, with lyrics and music becoming more highly poetic and sophisticated, he still never lost sight of his cause. Towards the end of the sixties he joined with the YIPPIES in protest against the Vietnam War. But idealism became Phil’s downfall. He was an idealist who could see no point in continuing if he was unable to make the world a better place. Phil lost all hope and descended into depression, which, along with excessive alcohol consumption, led to his suicide in 1976. Shortly before he took his life, Phil asked his brother if he thought anyone would listen to his songs in the future. Well here we are; sixty years later, still listening. The songs of Phil Ochs are every bit as relevant as they ever were and they are making the world a better place!Phil Ochs On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523263: Books
Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song Paperback – 25 Sept. 2025  “We only ever get glimpses of Ian Dury; nothing is as it seems. From irascible rogue to national treasure, pop star to social commentator, cockney geezer to artist, he was a man greater than the sum of his parts. Part teddy boy, part punk, part vaudeville act; he was unique. The music that emanates from this powerful personality echoes the heart and drive of their complex creator.
   Dury began his career as a frontman with post-punk outfit Kilburn And The High Roads, but had his greatest success with backing band The Blockheads, which featured Chis Jankel and Wilko Johnson at various times. He found true commercial success with the albums New Boots And Panties and Do It Yourself. Dury went on to a critically acclaimed solo career and worked with The Blockheads again on the 1997 album Mr Love Pants. He also had a slew of non-album hits, especially the UK number one ‘Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick’.
   In this book, Opher Goodwin dissects his albums and songs to tease out their spirit and reveal the inspirations behind them. 
   This is Ian Dury: a Blockhead, a genius.”		Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books
Leonard Cohen  On Track: Every Album, Every Song Paperback – 30 May 2025  An enigma, Leonard Norman Cohen was possibly the most improbable bohemian intellectual songwriter/singer in music history. He was certainly the working-class hero, the peoples’ poet, the suicidal lamenter of doom and the purveyor of popular songs. But the truth is even more complex. Throughout his life, there were juxtapositions of the most unlikely life choices and influences. To have fashioned a mishmash of ideas, styles and influences into a successful, long-lasting musical career is nothing short of amazing. He blended secular, mystical, sexual and religious themes into ambiguous poetic tapestries and devised an intricate, unique musical style. He possessed a deep baritone voice that, although mesmerising, was sometimes in danger of sounding monotonous. Leonard was able to fuse these elements into a distinctive amalgam that somehow worked on many levels. He did not look the part, play the game or conform to any rules, but Leonard touched hearts and minds all over the world, while writing some remarkable songs, including ‘Halleluyah’ and ‘Suzanne’. Focusing equally on his popular early albums, his more experimental mid-period and his final, late-career renaissance, this book analyses and interprets every album and every individual song to shed light on the phenomenon of Leonard Cohen.Leonard Cohen On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523591: Books
The Beatles – White Album – rock Classics    Arguably the greatest album by the best rock band ever, The Beatles – also known as The White Album – proved to be a watershed recording. Coming as it did, after manager Brian Epstein’s death; after the disillusionment with the Maharishi; in the middle of the break-up of long-term relationships, and following on from the psychedelic masterpiece Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, it heralded changes of style and the marked the start of the falling apart of the previously tight-knit group.The album’s diversity and creation are analysed and its background and dynamics revealed. This extraordinary double album reflects a remarkable time and period. As the sixties came to an end, so too did the band. They mirrored the times they lived in. The album also followed on from their first highly criticised TV flop Magical Mystery Tour, the success of the first global satellite triumph of ‘All You Need Is Love’, and the highly ambitious Apple business venture. George Martin ducked out and ructions broke out between band members. But, among all the pressures and stress they found time to write and record an incredible array of songs; songs that synergised into a spectacularly successful album with a fascinating story. This is the tale of every track and every facet of this remarkable record.The Beatles: White Album – Rock Classics: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523331: Books
Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home – Rock ClassicsOne of the most pivotal albums in the evolution of rock music, few other recordings have had more impact than the 1965 Bob Dylan classic, Bringing It All Back Home. In the mid-sixties, rock music was about to explode into psychedelia, prog and jazz fusion. Meanwhile, Bob Dylan had made an enormous impact on songwriting with his first four all-acoustic albums. He had created a different way of writing songs, by embracing themes such as civil rights, anti-war protests and social issues, which lifted the subject matter from teenage love songs to serious poetic works of art, rife with symbolism. But with Bringing It All Back Home, Dylan shot his lyrics through with surreal hard-edged beat poetry while the music contained both acoustic songs and blues-based loud electric rock. It alienated him from many of his peers in the folk community but nonetheless contains classic cuts like ‘Mr Tambourine Man’ ‘Maggie’s Farm’ and ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’. Dylan had opened the door to experimentation. The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, The Doors, Hendrix, Pink Floyd and Cream all listened and responded. In its wake, Songwriting rose to new heights with few boundaries. After Bringing It All Back Home, music was forever changed.Bob Dylan Bringing It All Back Home: Rock Classics: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523140: Books
Captain Beefheart On Track: Every Album, Every SongCaptain Beefheart (Don Vliet) was undoubtedly the creator of the most bizarre and wonderful music. A child prodigy sculptor, he applied his artistic approach to music, creating ‘aural sculptures’. He befriended Frank Zappa in High School, collaborating on a teenage rock opera and sci-fi/fantasy film entitled Captain Beefheart vs The Grunt People. It was from this film that Don took his name. Of course, a magic character had to have a magic band. Captain Beefheart On Track: Every Album, Every Song : Opher Goodwin: Amazon.co.uk: Books
Roy Harper On Track: Every Album, Every SongRoy Harper must be one of Britain’s most undervalued rock musicians and songwriters. For over fifty years he has produced a series of innovative albums of consistently outstanding quality. He puts poetry and social commentary to music in a way that extends the boundaries of rock music. His 22 studio albums 16 live albums, made up of 250 songs, have created a unique body of work. Roy is a musician’s musician. Roy Harper: Every Album, Every Song (On Track): Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789521306: Books
In Search of Captain Beefheart – A Rock Music MemoirThe sixties raged. I was young, crazy, full of hormones and wanting to snatch life by the balls. There was a life out there for the grabbing and it had to be wrestled into submission. There was a society full of boring amoral crap and a life to be had in the face of the boring, comforting vision of slow death on offer. Rock music vented all that passion. This book is a memoir of a life spent immersed in Rock Music. In Search of Captain Beefheart: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781502820457: Books
Bob Dylan 1962 to 1970 On Track (Decades)  Bob Dylan is the magician who sprinkled poetic fairy dust on to the popular music of the early sixties and his songwriting sparked a revolution and changed rock music forever. The diminutive poet/singer claimed he was merely a ‘song and dance man’ but Dylan altered popular music from intellectually bereft teenage rebellion into a serious adult art form worthy of academic study. Bob Dylan 1962 to 1970 On Track (Decades) : Opher Goodwin: Amazon.co.uk: Books
Neil Young 1963 to 1970: Every Album, Every Song    In the realm of singer songwriters, few have been as influential as Neil Young, whose music has always been creative and relevant throughout six decades. Neil is a chameleon for whom boundaries of genres do not exist. He has delved into folk, country, r&b, rock ‘n’ roll, grunge, hard rock, electronic and pop and made them his own.Neil Young 1963 to 1970: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789522983: Books
Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years    Nick speaks!  I first met Nick when he was a young child and over the years he has become a close friend. This book illuminates the genius that I feel is Nick Harper and is designed to accompany ‘The Wilderness Years’, a trilogy of vinyl albums. Nick talks candidly about many aspects of his music and career. I include, with Nick’s permission, the lyrics of all the songs featured in the trilogy. There are also many photos dating from his childhood to the present day.Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798815185630: Books
The Blues Muse – A novelI was in conversation with a good friend who, like me, is a Rock Music fanatic. We have both been everywhere, seen everyone and have had our lives hugely affected by music. However it is not who you have seen but what you failed to catch that you dwell on. I said to him that it would be brilliant if we had a time machine and were able to go back and see all the major events in Rock history; Robert Johnson play in the tavern in Greenwood, Elmore James in Chicago, Elvis Presley in the small theatres, The Beatles in Hamburg, Stones in Richmond, Doors in the Whiskey, Roy Harper at St Pancras Town Hall…………….. and a thousand more. Then I realised that I could. The Blues Muse: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781518621147: Books
Rock Routes – A History of Rock MusicThis charts the progress of Rock Music from its beginnings in Country Blues, Country& Western, R&B and Gospel through to its Post Punk period of 1980. It tells the tale of each genre and lists all the essential tracks. I was there at the beginning and I’m still there at the front! Keep on Rockin’!!Rock Routes: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781514873090: Books
Opher’s World Tributes to Rock Geniuses  If you like Rock Music you’ll love this! – 195 tributes to Rock Acts of Genius. – Each one a gem of a picture. You’ll find out what makes them so brilliant and a lot more besides! This is the writing of a true passionate obsessive. These are Ophers tributes to Rock geniuses – loving pen-pictures to all the great artists and bands that have graced the screens, airways, our ears, vinyl grooves and electronic digits – (well a lot of them anyway). These tributes make you thrill to all the reasons why they were so great.Opher’s World Tributes to Rock Geniuses: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781508631279: Books
537 Essential Rock Albums  – Pt. 1This is not your average run through an opinionated list of somebody’s favourite albums. This is much more than that. By the time you get to the end of the book you will be in no doubt as to the type of person who has written this and what their views are. This is Opher at his most extreme and outspoken. He’s been there at the front through thousands of shows, purchased tens of thousands of albums and listened to more music than seems possible to fit into a single life.537 Essential Rock Albums – Pt. 1 The first 270: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781502787408: Books

Thank you for looking. Why not try one or two? And please leave a review!

Cheers

Opher

The Cleansing 7 – Chapter 1 (continued)

Posted on by Opher

Writing about aliens is never easy. As a biologist I can look at alien creatures with a degree of accurate science but trying to imagine a different evolution is fascinating. I tend to focus on the social. I’m really writing about us!

This is another extract from Chapter 1:

The process was complete. All assessment and sorting had been concluded. Neff was running one final check. Every single Hydran had been considered and allotted. Chameakegra’s work was done. Time to pass it over. Beheggakegri had already selected the commander who would run the show from here on.

She dimmed the lights on the bridge and sat in her commander’s pexi, alone and glum. In the distance came sounds of merriment from the mess. The crew had gathered to celebrate. The mission was over. An assessment like no other. They had done it. Not only had they judged the worth of a new culture, they had uniquely gone on to assess each individual. Feelings were mixed. Some thought Chameakegra’s idea worthwhile; others considered it a waste of time and energy. Opinions varied on how it might turn out. One thing was certain: her idea had considerably extended their mission. Nobody had ever worked so long. Time to go home, to relax and celebrate. The psychosynth was flowing, the mood high. Soon they would edge out of orbit, power through hyperspace, and be back with their families on Gestor. Endorphins saturated brains. They had made history. Whatever the outcome, their mission would be discussed for years. The elation was palpable. They were ground breakers.

Chameakegra stared out through the viewport at the planet below. It was out of her hands now. She peered at the great blue globe, her mind dwelling on those eight billion inhabitants. Was she correct? If those elements were removed, could the species prosper? Would they then be worthy of Federation entry? Or would genetic traits rear their heads again? Were all Hydrans afflicted with the same predispositions? If the problematic individuals were removed, would another group simply take their place? She sighed deeply. In her heart she knew it all depended on who Beheggakegri had selected to carry out the operation.

The thoughts stalked her mind like zeebos on excrement.
What if Beheggakegri was right? What if all Hydrans were tainted with the same flaws? What if violence, greed, and cruelty were not confined to a minority but afflicted the whole species, masked by prevailing pressures? Hydrans always lived in hierarchical societies. Their history showed that if you removed the elite, a new elite rose to take its place. What if the presence of an elite suppressed those detrimental traits in the lower rungs? What if all Hydrans were truly cruel and greedy?

Maybe Beheggakegri was right after all; perhaps it was quicker to eradicate the threat and be done with it. Perhaps she was wasting everyone’s time.

But then she mulled over their creativity — the art, the music, the dance, costume, architecture, and poetry. How the Federation could use an injection of Hydran culture. It would enrich them all. The risk surely had to be worth taking.

Her thoughts turned to the malevolent group. What of those afflicted with negative traits? Were they beyond hope? Could they not be treated for their maladies?

Chameakegra felt they were on the laser point of a huge moral issue long ignored. Surely the Federation’s process was too clinical, too bureaucratic, too cold‑blooded. If they carried out mass exterminations, could they truly be considered morally superior to the evil they eradicated? Even if safety was the overriding objective, could it be justified? Chameakegra had her doubts.

She stared down at the blue globe below — a glorious water world with so much potential. Sadness welled inside her, black waves flowing across her scutes. She had grown to love the place. Now she had to say goodbye to the planet and its array of people. No more excursions to the surface, no more interactions with these complex beings. It was out of her hands now.

She had a bad feeling Beheggakegri might engineer failure just to get back at her. She knew he had taken the Judgement as a slight. Would he stoop so low as to contrive extermination of an entire race for revenge? She wouldn’t put it past him.

The blue sphere, swathed in white cotton, hung still in the heavens. Unseen hands were about to throw the dice.

Chameakegra turned away. Best not to think about it.

‘I don’t care,’ Beheggakegri retorted vehemently, responding to Sang’s objections. Safe behind his mense in his office, sprawled in his comfiest luxopexi with the antigrav turned up full to support his increasing mass, pulpy flesh bulging between scutes so he resembled an over‑inflated alligator, his crest raised and bright green with outrage, he jabbed a sharp talon towards the poor Solarian he had summoned, now standing before his mense.

Apart from an occasional dousing of his amphibian skin, there was no indication Sang was perturbed by the onslaught. He was used to it. This was Beheggakegri in his usual mode. Internally Sang weighed the pros and cons of giving in to Beheggakegri’s demands. Outwardly he stood patiently, allowing gusts of hot foul Drefian breath to blow over him.

‘I will check and see if she is available,’ Sang replied smoothly. ‘It’s a big ask. She will have to assemble a large fleet with a sizeable contingent of trained personnel. Can’t be done overnight.’

‘You have drangling let me down twice,’ Beheggakegri boomed deafeningly. ‘Don’t you dare do it again! Get me who I want!’

‘I can’t do the impossible.’

‘I don’t care about any of that,’ Beheggakegri blustered, jabbing his talon. ‘I want Grrndakegra. I can count on her to do a good job.’

‘Count on her to do what you want,’ Sang thought, his face exuding the necessary ingratiation. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘We have carried out your directives to the letter,’ Commander Chameakegra informed Beheggakegri in as pleasant a tone as she could muster. ‘We have assessed and sorted the Hydrans into the three categories as you instructed.’

Her three‑dimensional image hung in the air above Beheggakegri’s tridee unit. Her dress uniform gleamed, crest raised and bright orange, scutes shining. There was no hint of wavering despite the hundreds of light‑years the image had travelled. Hyperspace technology allowed flawless communication.

Beheggakegri, comfortably installed in his office on Gestor, studied the insolent Giforian with disdain. His crest rose and scutes took on a green tinge of disgust clearly visible to Chameakegra. Not that Beheggakegri cared. She could take umbrage if she wished.

‘We are now ready for the next phase and fully prepared to give full assistance to the implementation team,’ Chameakegra said, staring calmly as if present in the room.

Beheggakegri allowed himself time to calm down, scutes settling to neutral beige before responding. ‘We have a task force preparing for the operation,’ he replied. ‘Get ready to welcome them and assist with implementation. You will provide the necessary data, then your work is concluded; you can come home.’

His tone was suitably gruff, vague yet to the point. When the call ended he slouched back in his pexi, glowering at the space her image had occupied, and began shovelling dainties into his buccal cavity.

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

Ian Dury book out TODAY!!

Posted on by Opher

I greatly enjoyed researching and writing this book. Listening to every single track that Ian produced was a great pleasure. Playing them with a view to analyse and explain is a different experience. It’s a bit like putting pieces of a jigsaw together. This is the finished puzzle!!

Ian Dury On Track: Every Album, Every Song: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781789523744: Books