Zein: The Prophecy Read online

  ‘I told you about reflection and the harshness of the winters?’ Gemma nodded. ‘Good, well, to escape these periods we hibernate underground and plan our harvests and any technical changes to our villages. During this period the Pod used this time to breed,’ Kabel explained. ‘Our birth rates are relatively low. Our gestation rate is much slower than that of humans and the Pod. The Pod can have three to four babies at each birth and their numbers grew rapidly. However, the queen was smart and held back her people until they were strong.’ Kabel paused ahead of what he still found painful to comprehend.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘One winter, without any warning, they attacked our hibernation caves. They were fantastic burrowers and before we knew it they burrowed into our living accommodation and killed whole communities, before we could signal the alarm,’ said Kabel.

  Gemma was horrified, ‘Could you not defend yourselves?’ she asked.

  ‘We tried but many were killed that first winter,’ said Kabel, he picked up a drink to quench the thirst he had suddenly developed from telling the story. He took a long drink and then continued.

  ‘We got wise and built our communities with the strongest metals we possessed, which stopped them for a time. Their numbers grew and they outnumbered us. Our technology was great and theirs primitive but they had this great hatred of us and their numbers eventually told. The Elders invested in building the largest battleship we have ever built and an expeditionary force was pulled together. We left a base station on Zein and then went on our quest,’ said Kabel.

  ‘Does anyone know what happened to those that were left?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘I understand we lost communications with them some eighty years ago after a solar storm disrupted our signals,’ Kabel answered. ‘Only Tucan knows what has happened.’ Gemma walked up to him and put her arms around him and they kissed deeply. Kabel was the first to break away from the kiss. She looked at the remaining seckle tucked into his tunic.

  ‘Would you show me how to use that?’

  Kabel smiled and pulled the weapon out. He switched off the protection on the handle so Gemma could handle it and presented it to her. Gemma had a black belt in a number of martial arts and fought for her county, Cheshire, in regional bouts. It was one way to release her impatience with her parents, who had spent the majority of her childhood away working and leaving her and Bailey with nannies. In her training she used a variety of weapons and the seckle fitted snugly into her hand. She pressed the release button and the blades glided out of the handle. Kabel was just going to instruct her on how to wield it when she began to incorporate the seckle into her morning ritual warm up. Kabel watched stunned. This girl was special. Gemma saw Kabel’s admiring look and pulled out of her moves and handed back the weapon.

  ‘Look, we need to see how we can help in Lower Town,’ he said as he took back the seckle. ‘Maybe we can find you an unwanted seckle to practise with?’

  Gemma liked that idea.

  Chapter 18

  Base Station Zero

  The lift doors opened. The two soldiers nearest the door peered out carefully.

  Nothing. Silence…

  No guards near the lift as protocol dictated.

  ‘You two,’ Remo Shanks pointed to Hechkle and Bronstorm, the two soldiers near the entrance, ‘scout the route.’

  Hechkle cautiously made his way down the first corridor, followed by the more hesitant Bronstorm. The latter, to Tyson, looked younger then he was. His sallow freckled face, fringed by wild red hair, was apprehensive.

  ‘Don’t worry, he may be young but he can beat all the rest of us in any form of combat,’ another soldier, called Stern, said reassuringly.

  Once the scouts had made it to the first major turn of the long corridor, the rest of the company followed. They carefully traversed the specially constructed corridors that acted as a coolant against the high temperature of the minerals and earth.

  After only a short distance they came across the two soldiers who should have been guarding the lift. Their lifeless and twisted bodies were slumped on the floor.

  Amelia gasped and turned her head. Tyson placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort. She removed it just as quickly.

  I don’t need your pity. The thought penetrating the block that he had put up to limit his ability.

  ‘It’s OK, Amelia, it’s OK,’ Bailey said after seeing the gesture.

  What is going on here? Tyson heard him say to himself.

  ‘Move forward,’ said Remo quietly. The soldiers advanced with the two scouts pushing a good one hundred yards ahead. There were numerous branches off to the main corridors, which Evelyn quickly explained led to the main mining areas.

  After half an hour they reached the Core settlement, Base Station Zero. Base Station Zero was a large round cavern burnt out of the hot rock. It was encased in the same shiny steel-like substance as the corridors that kept the heat at bay. A number of smallish steel huts, each with two windows and a doorway, were built on the outskirts of the circumference of the cavern. In the centre was what Tyson made out to be a communal area with tables and cooking area for the hundred-odd Zeinonians who worked on a shift basis.

  The force stopped at the entrance of the cavern and waited until Hechkle and Bronstorm had made their way to the centre of the area. Hechkle waved forward the rest of the group. Tyson, who was at the back of the group, became aware of half a dozen white eyes looking at them from the huts. Then more, a lot more eyes he could see.

  Voices invaded his head. Kill, kill, kill.

  The fierceness of the voices knocked him back. He placed the palm of his hands onto his forehead in an attempt to stop it. No one noticed his discomfort. The rest of the soldiers, led by Remo and Evelyn, entered the area, followed by Bailey and Amelia.

  Tyson closed his mind to the haunting voices. ‘No. Stop…’ Tyson shouted to the rest of the group as he found his voice.

  It is a trap. He yelled directly into their heads.

  Evelyn half turned and looked behind at him. ‘What…’ Before she could finish there was an ungodly cry and crazed men came running out of the huts from all directions holding an assortment of fierce looking weapons.

  Bronstorm initially hesitated, his fear showing through his youthfulness. The older, more rugged, battle-hardened Hechkle leapt into action, cutting down one of the first attackers with his drawn dagger. With his other hand he pulled his blaster from his holster.

  Bronstorm snapped out of his glazed look and, quicker than anything Tyson had ever seen, whipped out a seckle and blaster and shot one of the inhuman beings and cut another deeply.

  Tyson heard a cry and Amelia had bravely pulled her blaster from her holster and had brought down one of the attackers, but another had grabbed her and thrown her to one side, ripping her new green tunic. Bailey was immediately there standing, with his gun drawn, over Amelia, protecting her. He killed the man who had shoved Amelia to the floor. Tyson sprang into action.

  With an astonishing bound he leapt some fifty yards and crashed into the attackers converging on Bailey. He came face to face with one of the crazed attackers. No pupils in the eyes. Just white blank eyeballs……

  Tyson was rocked. It was the dream again. It was all true. Could he see into the future? Then realising his friends were in mortal danger he pulled his seckle and activated it. He swung the seckle easily…as if he had been using it for years. He brought two of the men to a halt by cutting the throat of one before turning and catching the chest of another.

  Two more rushed him and with his left hand he raised it so as to steady his body and a pulse from the blue force-field left his hand and knocked the men off their feet.

  Bailey looked at him in surprise. Tyson stopped and looked blankly at his left hand. Where did that come from?

  The crazed Zeinonians attacked with such ferocity, with all types of weapons including shovels, picks and in some cases rocks that the group struggled to hold their line. Nine of the guards had fallen. When they tho
ught they were going to be overrun there was Bronstorm. He was like a whirlwind. He was everywhere. Slashing. Cutting. Meeting the attack in the only way he knew.

  Hechkle took a blow to his head and was dazed. Bronstorm took him by the arm and started to clear a path to one of the huts. Then Remo was there with the rest of the Palace Guard. He drove back the attackers, taking over from Bronstorm. Although the attackers incurred considerable casualties they continued to push forward without regard to their safety. The Palace Guard, led by the brave Remo, managed to establish a line, at a cost, between the remaining group and Evelyn saw that one of the huts was close.

  ‘Let’s get to cover,’ she shouted.

  ‘Bailey, pick up Amelia,’ Tyson shouted as he used his new found power to blast the rushing hordes off their feet. He helped clear the way to the nearest hut. The companions one by one stumbled into the hut. Last to enter was Remo.

  Evelyn shut the steel door, locking it tight, and ordered the remaining soldiers to close the shutters on the windows.

  The crazed horde, recovering from Tyson’s blast, launched a desperate manic attack on the hut. They hammered their assorted weapons on the fabric of the hut, creating an intimidating noise.

  Those inside, their breathing ragged from the fighting, waited fearfully. All of a sudden the attack stopped and they could make out the attackers backing away. An eerie silence then drowned out the previous noise.

  Tyson counted the number of survivors in the small room. Out of the twenty four soldiers only nine remained. Along with the injured Hechkle and their saviour, Bronstorm, another two soldiers, Stern and Dart, guarded the windows and the remaining five soldiers guarded the door; he didn’t know their names.

  ‘It looks like we have found what has happened to some of the platoon sent down yesterday,’ Tyson said, pointing to three bodies on the floor, ‘They must have hid the bodies after the attack.’

  Amelia put her hand to her mouth in shock. Tyson moved to the side of her as Bailey was wrapping a cloth around her left forearm which had a small cut from her fall.

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. It’s just a scratch,’ Amelia replied sullenly, not looking at him.

  ‘You were brave out there,’ said Tyson gently, looking at her stubborn chin thrust forward. He saw her for the first time; her courage in holding back the tears that were not far below the surface. Her soft brown eyes showed steel that Tyson had not seen before; at odds with the soft contours of her attractive face. Amelia looked up. Tyson held her gaze for a moment, ensuring he blocked any thoughts she was having. Now was not the time for his gifts.

  ‘I’m alive! Thanks for asking, mate…,’ Bailey said drolly. Tyson turned to his friend, a smile creasing his face. Bailey was sitting down on his haunches, catching his breath, sweat slowly making its way down his face.

  ‘Sorry, Bailey,’ said Tyson, ‘you showed some guts out there as well.’

  ‘What were they?’ Bailey asked.

  ‘They were the last shift,’ Evelyn answered, tossing her red ringlets back from her face. She looks beautiful, Tyson thought.

  ‘I recognised some of them,’ she shook her head in disbelief, ‘but they have the disease we have seen in the Lower Town.’

  ‘I have heard rumours from refugees that this is how Zylar prepares his Ilsid,’ Bronstorm chipped in. They all looked at him.

  ‘Stop gossiping,’ countered the gruff voice of Hechkle, pain etched on his face from his head wound.

  ‘It’s true, Zylar makes his hostages drink this potion that turns them into mad beasts and then he uses his magics to train and control them. He transforms them into those fighting machines.’

  ‘That’s just loose talk over Mee wine, boy,’ was Hechkle’s retort.

  ‘No, I am telling you it’s the truth. Just because your brain cells shrunk with all that muscle,’ retorted the young soldier, teasing his larger colleague. Hechkle made to clip the younger soldier around the ear but Bronstorm was too quick. Tyson read their thoughts and found uncertainty in Hechkle but firm belief in Bronstorm.

  ‘When we faced the Ilsid on Earth, some appeared to have metal arms,’ said Bailey.

  Bronstorm was in his element now. Even Hechkle was listening intently.

  ‘When I was stationed in the Western Quadrant I was able to travel to a couple of the Federation Fairs. In the beer tents talk was loose.’ Bronstorm saw Hechkle’s grimace. ‘However, the stories were consistent.’ Bronstorm had looked unthreatening to the drunken revellers, no one knowing of his fighting expertise. Their tongues were loose with the flowing Mee wine and hola beer and they all had a story to tell.

  ‘There were stories of family members disappearing, vast barracks and training grounds, illicit operations and unanswered atrocities happening in out of the way villages.’

  He had them hooked.

  ‘It was said that Zylar had used the borderlands of the Eastern Quadrant to train and build the Ilsid. He used whole villages as training grounds for their butchery,’ he said.

  ‘When he had three quadrants available to him he was able to train and experiment more.’ Bronstorm looked round the assembled group.

  ‘What did he experiment with?’ Bailey asked the obvious question, something which he was getting used to.

  ‘Cyborgs,’ was the reply.

  ‘Humph,’ was Hechkle’s response. Evelyn raised her eyes to the ceiling. Tyson read Bronstorm’s mind and knew he told the truth or the truth as he knew it. He shared a glance with Amelia and Bailey and they could see that he believed.

  ‘How are we getting out of here?’ Evelyn brusquely brought them back to reality.

  ‘I don’t think it will be easy,’ the booming voice of Hechkle answered. Evelyn turned to him.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To set such a trap, ensure that we were exposed before attacking means they are intelligent as well as crazed,’ he explained.

  ‘We would only get a few yards. There are too many of them,’ said Bronstorm.

  Suddenly, there was a cry and the drugged attackers threw themselves at the hut. The attack focused on the steel shutters. One of the shutters buckled and a knife was thrown through the gap. One of the soldiers fell gasping for breath as it lodged in his throat. Then Hechkle was there. He threw his weight against the shutter pushing it back into place. He then held it in place with his enormous back.

  ‘Well done, big fella,’ Bronstorm chirped. Hechkle growled back. Evelyn went to the fallen soldier but it was too late for him. It was Dart.

  ‘I think I can help,’ said Tyson quietly, still absorbing what had happened to the other soldier.

  ‘How?’ Evelyn demanded. Tyson could read the doubts in the surviving Zeinonians’ minds.

  What could this human do that soldiers can’t?

  Yet he projected his magics away from his body.

  Is he the One?

  All hit him at once and his brain began to deal with them one by one.

  ‘When we were attacked I could hear them.’ He saw the disbelieving glances and yet more thoughts. ‘If I can hear them they can hear me if I project my thoughts.’

  ‘They are crazed beings, man. How can you reason with them?’ said Hechkle, rising from the floor. He was frustrated. He had lost some good friends today.

  ‘What do you know, you big oak?’ said Bailey, stepping in front of his friend confronting the taller man. Bailey was not one for backing down. Hechkle flexed his mighty forearms, tightening his massive hands into fists.

  ‘Step away, soldier,’ Evelyn said in her most commanding voice, ‘and you,’ pointing at Bailey, ‘pull your head in,’ she then waited for Tyson to elaborate.

  Tyson used the interruption to think through his initial suggestion. To be fair he had only thought of the opportunity in the last few minutes. Now he needed to place more flesh on the bones of the idea. He realised there was a connection with the Ilsid and the crazed men outside. If the Ilsid can be controlled then why can’
t these infected people? What he needed to work out was how he could make this happen……and quickly.

  He looked at the expectant faces waiting for him to speak. Then he had the answer. Keep it easy. He explained his thought process and even the sceptical Hechkle nodded encouragingly. A plan was formed and they readied themselves for the task. For the task to work Tyson had to have eye to eye contact with as many of the survivors as possible. Bailey held the door edge ready to open it. Bronstorm, Hechkle, Stern and the five other soldiers waited to rush out and form a protective shield.

  Bailey counted down and then wrenched the steel door open. It opened with a huge screech. Quickly the eight soldiers ran and fanned out in front of the hut. Tyson stepped out behind them. He had his seckle out and the blue force-shield surrounded him. Either side of him Evelyn, Bailey and Amelia had drawn their blasters.

  Nothing happened at first. Then suddenly the white eyes of the other survivors glistened under the artificial lights. As one they rushed forward and Tyson’s eyes bore into one after another. Those he caught he gave simple orders:

  Stop. Protect me. Stop. Protect me.

  The order seemed to work. Individual attackers stopped in their tracks. The next part of the instruction appeared not to compute with them. The ones that Tyson could not connect with clashed with the thin line of soldiers. Bronstorm’s hands moved quickly. Those that came near him fell at his feet. His youthful countenance was in deep thought as he placed his training into forceful action. Hechkle used less finesse and brute strength to throw back the attackers. The other soldiers fought bravely and held the hordes back.