Zein: The Prophecy Read online

  ‘When is the next shipment?’ the experienced human warrior asked.

  ‘A shipment is made on the hour, so we would need to go either at eleven or midnight,’ said Bronstorm, who had been looking at the manifest earlier. The people round the table looked at the time; it was already six thirty.

  It is going to be tight, thought Charles.

  ‘Victoria, we need to come up with a Plan B. I suggest we accede to Zylar’s demands just in case there is a delay or the force fighting against the command and control centre fails, we can’t run the risk of another launch,’ Charles said, his intelligent mind working overtime. ‘Pull together a call with the Security Council and we will ask them to provide a joint message before midnight surrendering to Zylar.’

  Clever, thought Tyson. Zylar’s guard will be down even more.

  ‘What about the prisoners? The Security Council will take some convincing and it would help if we had a plan to successfully rescue their heads of state’ said Charles.

  ‘My mother is prisoner and we can use her DNA to teleport me and an extraction force directly into the Palace. Then we can rescue the prisoners whilst Zylar is distracted by the attack.’ Bronstorm looked at Tyson with open admiration as did the generals in the room.

  ‘I like the way you think, Mr Mountford?’ said Sir Clifton, echoing the others’ thoughts.

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  Charles looked at the expectant faces in the room and saw hope rear its head. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have an awful amount to do, so time for action.’ Before long there were calls being made and mobilisation of the first Human and Zein Task Force was underway.

  Chapter 29

  Consequences

  General Chad was both exhilarated and irritated at the same time. He had particularly enjoyed launching the two missiles and seeing the once great city of New York reduced to a burning wreck. More of a concern was that the attack on the bunker was proving punishing. The remaining photon machine gun was not making any impact on the surviving levitation tank, which was simply keeping its distance and with increasing accuracy bombarding the front and top of the bunker. The doors had buckled open and a large number of his soldiers were dead or dying. He looked around the room. Apart from the operators he had a dozen Ilsid and a handful of Eastern Quadrant army regulars left.

  They had tried to obtain reinforcements and found the portal was shut down…idiots! He banged his fist down on one of the consoles, making the operator jump nervously.

  ‘Check all your coordinates and be ready to launch at midnight if the humans don’t surrender,’ he told the scared operators.

  ‘Hello Jika,’ said a familiar voice behind him. General Chad spun around and saw Malkin in front of him holding his cane, of which he had relieved one of the soldiers in the Palace of. Beside him was…the Blackstone boy, a strange looking girl and Belina! How the devil did they escape…he had his answer almost immediately as the Changeling crashed into the two nearest Ilsid troops.

  The Changeling, of course, how could he be so stupid.

  ‘Kill them!’ yelled General Chad to his remaining soldiers. The Ilsid attacked. An Ilsid raised his photon shotgun and Gemma blasted him off his feet. Kabel looked in her face and saw the lust for battle and couldn’t help but smile. Belina was also putting her shotgun to good effect and at the close ranges they were having a devastating impact until an Ilsid threw his seckle and cut the weapon in half. The force of the blow swung her body around and one of the Eastern soldiers caught her with a punch and she went flying back. Gemma saw this and closed the gap to the soldier, who had pulled out his seckle and aimed a wicked blow at her. Gemma applied her martial arts skills and bent away from the flashing blade. In the same movement she brought her seckle up and the seckles clashed. She then moved quickly to her left and brought the seckle thudding into the back of the soldier, who went down. Gemma let another shot off, which took another soldier in the chest. Gemma and Belina had halved the number of troops against them

  Gemma looked for Belina to see if she was all right and this distraction was her undoing. She didn’t see the wickedly spinning seckle that cut deeply into her right arm forcing her to drop her seckle. Gemma yelled in pain and slumped to the floor.

  The Changeling, in the form of a tall male Pod, was still entangled with the two Ilsid soldiers. Kabel was battling in hand to hand combat with another Ilsid soldier and seeing Gemma go down saw his anger fully released. He hacked left and right with the seckle, his hands moving quickly, the seasoned soldier trying to block each cut and thrust. His blue force-field flared and the soldier was flung back allowing him to run to help Gemma.

  He picked her up and carried her back to the corridor away from the fighting leaving Malkin with his skilful application of his bladed stick fighting the remaining soldiers.

  General Chad watched Malkin, waiting for his moment.

  Kabel gently rested Gemma against the corridor wall, her face drained of colour and grimacing with pain. The cut was bad. Kabel used his seckle to cut some cloth away from his cloak and then tied it around the wound tightly. He took her chin lightly in his large hand and leant forward and kissed her.

  ‘Keep the pressure on that, it will help stop the blood loss.’ He kissed her again and she gave him a weak smile. ‘I will come back.’ With that he stood up. He went back to the battle with his anger pulsating in a fierce blue out of every pore.

  Malkin had dispatched the Easterner he was fighting and was breathing hard.

  ‘Old man, you should have died years ago,’ said the mocking voice of his former pupil. Malkin pulled himself together and looked to his left. He came face to face with the sardonic General Chad, who had drawn his two blades. ‘Come on, old man, I want to see what you have got. Can you still dance?’

  ‘You bet!’

  Malkin attacked, his cane twirling in front of him. General Chad brought his two swords down in a front crawl simulation and the cane blocked the quick downward strokes. Malkin sidestepped his adversary’s charge and brought his cane across to cut into General Chad’s back. The blow glanced off as the protective shield rebuffed the hit.

  ‘Not bad, not bad, old man,’ he taunted.

  Malkin wasn’t listening. He brought his cane sweeping across from the right, twisting at the last minute to go under the protective block of the swords. The twisting blade found its target, catching the thigh of General Chad. This time the blade cut through the shield and made a nasty cut. General Chad made no sound, as if he was impervious to the pain.

  ‘You been dabbling in deep magics again, Jika?’ said Malkin. His opponent didn’t answer except to bring his swords simultaneously from left and right. Malkin tipped his cane left and right in quick succession and blocked the hits.

  ‘You know it rots your soul,’ he said.

  ‘You were always too soft, Malkin. Egan offered you everything and you chose to live the life of a peasant with the Southgates.’ Malkin watched General Chad’s feet as they crossed and uncrossed in a balletic dance as he positioned his body for an attack. The talk was simply to lull him into a false move. Sure enough General Chad swept towards Malkin, half turning his body and swinging his swords, using the momentum of his body. Malkin was able to block the first sword, the second sword hit him in the side and the sharpened blade sliced into his flesh. He stumbled in shock and he dropped his guard.

  General Chad looked at the blood on his sword and his lip curled up in satisfaction. He raised the sword to his lips and licked the blood from the sword. Malkin’s cane was now dragging on the floor and his body open for attack. He swaggered up to Malkin and kicked away the cane. Malkin drew himself up, wincing with every movement and stared defiantly at his nemeses.

  ‘Got to give it to you, old man, you have guts….for now.’ With that he plunged his right sword through Malkin’s belly and twisted. Malkin dropped to his knees. General Chad raised his other sword to deliver the fatal blow to Malkin’s head when he was startled by a loud roar behind him.

&n
bsp; During General Chad’s and Malkin’s fight, Kabel was battling the remaining Ilsid and Eastern Quadrant army regulars. A revitalised Belina was fighting alongside him. They were making good progress against the opposition with Belina, her shotgun out of charge, resorting to using her hand to hand combat skills. Kabel had just killed one of the Ilsid and was engaging the final soldier of the infamous regiment when he saw Malkin go down on his knees and watched as General Chad raised his sword to decapitate his teacher and friend.

  Kabel let a roar out and his seckle dispatched the man in front of him and he ran at General Chad. Hearing the cry his adversary pulled his sword out of Malkin by using a foot to hold him steady and turned to face this new threat.

  General Chad was too late in bringing his sword up to defend his body. Kabel threw his seckle with all his might. The seckle cut through the general’s neck like butter and his head stayed attached to his body for a moment, his eyes glazed over and then his body, still clutching the two swords, fell one way and his head the other.

  Kabel rushed to Malkin, who was still on his knees. Behind him Belina had killed the two remaining soldiers. Only the operators were left and they were huddled out of the way in a corner. Kabel placed an arm around Malkin’s shoulders and helped him to rest onto the floor. Blood was dribbling from his mouth. Kabel knew there was not much time. Tears welled up inside him. Why did everyone he cares for have to get hurt?

  ‘No tears, Kabel. There is nothing to regret, it is my time.’ He touched Kabel’s hand, ‘You were like a son to me,’ said Malkin, his breath rasping, ‘you made my life complete.’ Kabel felt Belina’s hand on his shoulders. Malkin grabbed hold of his arm and raised his body up slightly.

  ‘I promised your father I would protect you. Now it is your time to protect your family.’ Malkin fell back to the floor. ‘Watch your human brother. He is on a dangerous path, a path he may not return from. Help him make the right choices…’ Malkin’s eyes fluttered as his voice weakened.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Kabel. It was too late, Malkin’s unseeing eyes a sign that he had passed to the Exalted Heights. Kabel gently closed his eyelids and slowly lowered his body back to the floor. He wiped the tears from his face and stood up. Belina hugged him. The Changeling padded next to them in his wolf shape and sat quietly.

  ‘Gemma needs some Medicare,’ Kabel said to Belina out of the side of his mouth, still holding Malkin. He glanced at the survivors in the room and pointed to one of the operators. ‘You go and get some medical supplies.’ The man ran down the corridor past the stricken figure of Gemma.

  ‘How is it going…?’ said Lord Southgate as he clambered over the debris of the front entrance that had tumbled down into the corridor leading from the entrance. He didn’t finish the sentence when he saw the prone figure of Malkin. He bowed his head in respect.

  ‘We need to destroy this antenna and let Lord Fathom and Tyson know that we have disabled the threat,’ said Kabel quietly, still looking down at the man whom he had known all his life.

  Lord Southgate walked across to another of the operators. ‘Can we send a message to the Core through this console?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ was the short reply.

  ‘You mean you have all this technology and you can’t send even a small message?’ said Lord Southgate, advancing menacingly on the frightened man.

  ‘No, we could before but the blasts have knocked out one of the critical transmitters,’ the operator explained, closing his eyes, expecting a blow. Lord Southgate saw that the operators were used to abuse and not knowing what other help the small group required he didn’t want to antagonise them any more.

  ‘There is only one solution then, we need to teleport to the Core and speak to them face to face,’ said Kabel, before realising their number was missing three men. ‘Where are Remo, Dante and Grampion?’

  ‘Remo is fine but Dante and Grampion didn’t make it,’ said Lord Southgate regretfully. ‘Remo is still in the tank in case any soldiers survived,’ he glanced at the bodies on the floor, ‘although it looks like there are none left. Remo will be disappointed.’

  The man came back with some medical supplies. They fixed Gemma’s arm as best as they could and Kabel helped her into the tank. Remo set the operators free and placed explosives they had found in the stores against each of the consoles and set the timers. Remo drove them a good distance away and when the explosion came there was a massive cloud of dust thrown into the sky. The antenna was obscured by clouds of dust and then they saw the massive structure toppling like a poorly built tower of cards. The construction fell with a thunderous crash that left those viewing the spectacle in awe.

  They left the tank at the entrance of the Transportation building. There were no other soldiers in the parade ground, all having fled back to the safety of their own villages. They applied the coordinates to the Core and soon they were on their way back.

  Chapter 30

  Task Force

  Tyson watched with amusement as the soldiers materialised with stunned expressions onto the Core’s portal field. Earlier Lord Fathom had sent the Elders with an emergency portal to each deployment site in the United Kingdom to pull together the task force. For the last two hours bewildered soldiers had arrived in full battle gear.

  It was a true multi-national force. When the Deputy Prime Minister along with the Chief of Staff and Defence Minister had briefed the Security Council each country wanted to take part. Charles knew that the more multi-national the force was, the stronger the political agreement would be. It was agreed that the force would be under the control of Brigadier Michael Flintoff-Jones, an experienced officer from the Iraq, Afghanistan and recent Syria conflicts. He would report to the Chief of Staff, who would brief other military leaders of the participating countries. Already, in addition to the British troops, troops from France, Germany, US, India, Canada and Russia had arrived. China was sending some engineers and Australia some of their most experienced special forces. In addition to the Scots Guard and First Rifles, a regiment of the famed Special Air Service, or SAS as they were known, had also arrived.

  Tyson had already struck up friendships with some of the soldiers from the Scots Guards. The Scots Guard could trace their lineage back to the mid sixteenth century and were once the personal bodyguard of King Charles the First, now they were an integral part of the Guards Division of the British Army. One of them, Sean Lambert, was drinking some water from his flask as he watched with Tyson the combined force of nearly eight thousand men materialise in a variety of groups via the portal.

  ‘So you say this stuff, zythan…’ he started saying.

  ‘Zinithium,’ said Tyson, correcting the six foot two Scottish man.

  ‘Whatever its name brought these aliens to Earth over a hundred years ago?’

  ‘Zeinonians, and yes,’ said Tyson, his eyes twinkling. Sean laughed. ‘And if we dig enough of it up then we can go back to their planet and free their people.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My wife will be fine with that,’ said Sean, with a broad grin, ‘she is always saying that I am sometimes on a different planet from her!’

  ‘Hey, I am the guy who does the jokes,’ said Bailey with a fake hurt look on his face as he walked up. He and Sean had immediately hit it off and were busy seeing who would win the competition of best one liner. With Bailey was Amelia, who had just been helping in the sickbay for those soldiers injured in the Battle for the Core.

  ‘Hi Tyson,’ she said brightly, walking past him and cheekily accentuating the swing of her hips. Tyson was for once lost for words and his face went red. Spending time with Amelia in the last few hours he found that he was always thinking of her. The past irritations had disappeared and he found Amelia attractive and fun to be with. He studiously blocked reading her mind though; he wasn’t that brave. Amelia carried on past to deliver a message to the Brigadier from Lord Fathom.

  Brigadier Michael Flintoff-Jones was in in his early fifties and no one had seen him smile on duty,
ever. He was intimidating with his sternness and he brokered no tomfoolery or wisecracks. He was all business. The troops from the Scots Guards and also the First Rifles, the latter one of the largest infantry regiments in the United Kingdom, who had arrived after the first intake, both knew him well and respected him.

  ‘That’s some girl,’ said Sean with a raised eyebrow, as Amelia passed the message on. ‘She is sweet on you, laddie,’ he said to Tyson.

  ‘I am afraid my friend here,’ Bailey thumped Tyson playfully on the arm; he had seen his old friend back in the last few hours and it had helped wrest him back from his doom and gloom thoughts, ‘has three girls chasing him.’

  He himself was trying to block any thoughts that his parents were caught in the New York hell. He had looked at the notes on his phone and he had their flight number down for leaving in mid-afternoon. When the communications came back on line after Zylar’s intervention, he had phoned the airline, who had said the plane had left safely. This had calmed his nerves down. Planes from New York had been arriving all day and he fully expected his parents to have safely made it back.

  ‘Bailey!’ said Tyson, joining in the light heartedness. He knew his friend better than anyone and to joke and mess around was his defence mechanism.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Bailey pouting like a six year old.

  He pointed to Evelyn, who was talking with some of the First Rifles soldiers. ‘Lord Fathom’s daughter over there, and of course my beautiful sister.’ At this point Bailey’s face clouded over with a worried frown. They had not heard from Kabel or Gemma.