Zein: The Homecoming Read online

  He had surprised them immediately by, for the first time in history, appointing a non-royal as his Vice-Chancellor. It was Cronje. Everyone had been taken back, including Cronje, until his initial surprise was replaced by his pragmatic old self.

  It was a smart move, Cronje had the backing of the still powerful Malacca army and by tying him into the Inner Council, Kabel had strengthened his political base by just one appointment. Though, to be honest, Kabel enjoyed the matter-of-fact advice he received from the taciturn Easterner. He had left Cronje with Remo as his captain to support Lords Southgate and Fathom as they assimilated the two cultures and environments. Kabel felt uneasy not having this pair with him but he needed to provide much needed protection and experience to the vulnerable Zein population, shorn of their technological protections.

  Kabel walked behind the muscled back of Lieutenant Morrison into the Command and Control Centre. He had rarely seen a black man and the imposing statue-like bear of a man brought out the strong, almost regal bearing of the African-American race. Lieutenant Morrison was General Corder’s right hand man and Kabel had immediately established a friendship, learning about each other’s race. Morrison pointed to the figure staring at the wall to ceiling viewing screen which showed the way ahead.

  Standing in front of Kabel was another imposing man. General Prescott Corder was a soldier through and through with many years of experience mapped into the lines on the craggy face. No one was under the illusion that there was not a hard, tough core behind the amenable manner of the American. Even though Kabel towered over him, the presence General Corder exuded, dominated the room. With him was the equally tough and older Admiral Nikolai Koshkov from the Russian Federation Forces, who commanded the second largest force on the ship with the United Kingdom and China the next two largest contingents.

  Admiral Koshkov was an argumentative in your-face man. This was a far cry from his command of the Black Sea Fleet and with General Corder out ranking him as military leader of the Expeditionary Force, he focused on ensuring his forces, numbering some twenty thousand soldiers from air, sea and land forces, delivered their side of the duties.

  ‘Lord Blackstone, glad you could join me,’ said General Corder, the welcoming smile lighting up his square jaw. ‘We have picked up a cluster of signals approaching us fast.’

  ‘Asteroids?’

  ‘Could be, travelling fast. We should know shortly when they pass in range of the afibilator,’ said General Corder, his smile now replaced with a studious look. The afibilator was an ultra-sensitive radar system that was augmented by zinithium. In fact once the Zeinonians had shared the secret of zinithium, the technology of Earth had not just leapt forward but moved into a whole new stratosphere.

  This was a subject which worried Kabel. The humans liked to be the aggressor rather than the follower and that was what he saw in the meetings he attended with his fellow Elders. If the humans disagreed with a point their initial reaction was to reject the position put forward rather than talk; eventually they came around to compromise but the whole experience was destabilising the Elders’ way of politicking.

  They went across to the young radar operator, Corporal Mike Batten, a soldier from the US Army, until they hovered over the four dimensional radar screens that could see some five light years away. The zinithium-powered radar was extraordinarily detailed and just as magnificent to watch.

  ‘What are we looking at soldier,’ commanded General Corder.

  The unflappable young man did not bat an eyelid, Batten pointed to some small flecks that were on the outskirts of the second layer of the afibilator, at four light years away. ‘These are the unidentified masses,’ he said, ‘Once they pass into the second perimeter we will receive considerable more information on their size, shape and speed.’

  ‘What is the likelihood of them not being an asteroid belt?’ asked Kabel. He was concerned that they had started waking up those in hyper-sleep only in the last hour. They bristled with weapons on every floor but had insufficient forces to fire them.

  ‘Well we have run into five asteroid belts and due to our technology were able to change course or use our deflection shields. It is likely to be another asteroid field, Sir,’ replied Corporal Batten.

  Kabel was relieved. His main fear was to enter into a fight too early, harbouring doubts that they just did not know whether the joint force would work effectively together. The relief didn’t last long. The blips on the screen suddenly changed into a recognisable battle formation as they entered into the second perimeter unlike the chaos of an asteroid belt.

  ‘Sir, I count thirty ships,’ the young radar engineer calmly stated. Good, some action, thought Admiral Koshkov. He itched for a battle. He was bored with the waiting around and endless drills.

  ‘Sound battle stations!’ General Corder was now all business. The communications officer, a Fathom soldier, set off the noisy klaxon throughout the ship. Admiral Koshkov departed to organise the Russian forces.

  On the third deck Hechkle was the first to react, picking up his cap, thrusting it onto his head and walking towards the nearest entrance. He brushed past two American soldiers who were patrolling the deck, his large shoulders unbalancing both of them. Hechkle didn’t break stride and it was the following Bronstorm who saw the dark looks the two soldiers gave the disappearing back of the tall Fathom warrior. They then turned their hostile glances towards Bronstorm, who blanked them, before walking past.

  ‘Follow me,’ Hechkle shouted to the group over his shoulder. The rest of the companions pushed their way through the still groggy civilians and made their way to the main corridor looking around for what to do next when a familiar voice called out.

  ‘Greetings, my friends, you are all looking rested, it is amazing what three months can do for your complexion!’

  Kabel, Gemma’s heart raced and she ran to him and gave him a big hug which he returned, realising how much he had missed her these last three months. The others promptly surrounded him and once pleasantries had been exchanged he beckoned them to gather closely around him.

  ‘Look, we have many photon anti-ship guns on this ship but we do not have enough trained soldiers to fire them. The others are awakening from hyper-sleep but it will take too much time before they are combat ready. I need volunteers.’

  ‘We trained on the guns before we left, though I admit I will be a little rusty,’ said Bailey. The others nodded their heads as they all had previously volunteered to train on the weapons defence.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to hear. Go to the first deck and grab yourself a position – we have only a few minutes before the enemy are upon us,’ Kabel stressed, ‘I will join the aviators in the Cobras.’ He was referring to the reconditioned double manned sleek aircraft that used to protect Elanda all those years ago. Now in full working order, they were aptly renamed after the venomous snake, and how the neck of the plane coiled before spitting out the deadly pulses of zinithium photon torpedoes.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Gemma, a lump in her throat. In answer he kissed her and then ran up the corridor. Gemma swallowed hard. It had been long time since she had seen him, and for him then to go was hard.

  The others made their way to the first deck, fighting through the bedlam around them. Tyson felt the tightness of the excitement gripping him as he followed the others. He like all the others had practised on the huge anti-ship photon guns with his natural hand to eye coordination proving an instant hit, leading him to record the highest number of “kills” in the training programme; nearly twenty-five percent higher than the previous record, held by Kabel. When he had finished the exercise and the other companions were congratulating their friend, he held back on what he had experienced, the connection with the gun that transcended pure metal and ammunition. He saw Zylar in his sights and every virtual ship he transformed into the hulking presence of his nemesis. The outside world faded from his consciousness – all he wanted to do was kill.

  ‘Tyson, Tyson?’ He shook out of his trance an
d turned to look at the worried face of Amelia. Amelia had grown used to the faraway looks of her boyfriend. She knew that he thought of Evelyn often and her death had changed him – possibly forever. Sometimes it took her minutes to wrestle him away from whatever place he tucked his mind into. What she knew for certain by the look on his face, it was rarely a pleasant journey.

  ‘You with us now, honey?’

  ‘Sure I am.’ Tyson flashed an indulgent smile and entered one of the anti-ship photon gun booths. The booths were positioned strategically down the spine of the ship with a one hundred and eighty degree angle of engagement. Due to this there were many booths on the first deck and these were supplemented by numerous others on each side of each of the other decks. The Elanda effectively bristled with protection, but the overriding problem was there were too few trained gunners awakened from hyper-sleep to arm every one.

  Tyson settled into his seat with the command hologram immediately sensing him and surrounding his head with a series of monitors. The electronic pulses took a matter of nano seconds to align with his brainwaves, the guns fitting comfortably into his dry hands. He was ready. The guns just needed to be directed and then his mind would direct the firing. Zebulon had quietly observed the companions awake from their hyper-sleep and sensing the stirring of the magics within the young human he decided to stay with Tyson. He could easily fit in the booth in his wolf form and sat patiently beside Tyson.

  ‘Hi buddy, looks like I will need to wait for my breakfast,’ said Bailey, into the communication link, laughing. Tyson wasn’t listening; his mind was in a different zone waiting for someone or something he could destroy.

  ‘You just have a one track mind dear brother,’ Gemma retorted.

  ‘Well I do have other vices, don’t I, Belina,’ smirked Bailey. Belina, who was hooked up like the others to the communication network, blushed.

  ‘Soldiers, can I just remind you to keep your eyes on what is in front of you and cut unnecessary chatter,’ said the powerful voice of General Corder, cutting across the banal discussion.

  Kabel smiled at the banter and joined in the fun with his co-pilot in the cockpit of the impressive Cobra. The co-pilot was Sean Lambert who was providing the support on manning the aft weapons console, which like the anti-ship guns on the Elanda was operated by thoughts. Sean was one of the humans who had supported Kabel during the last three months, refusing to accept the hyper-sleep option. He and Kabel had grown to respect and enjoy each other’s company and Kabel welcomed the light relief that broke the monotony of the journey.

  ‘Cobra Ten can you read me,’ said Kabel, searching through the hundred Cobra fix wing strike aircraft.

  The unhurried and calm voice of Hechkle, who was supported by Bronstorm, came back in acknowledgment, ‘Kabel, I mean Lord Blackstone, we are ready, as you humans say it, to kick ass,’ in a monotone flat response.

  ‘Just make sure you look after my back, you Fathom reprobates and no shirking off for some sightseeing,’ said Kabel, jokingly.

  ‘Ready to launch Sir,’ said Lieutenant Michaels to General Corder.

  ‘Launch in squads of ten, Lieutenant.’ The soldier acknowledged the order and his hands ran over the array of lights in front of him. General Corder was tense but knew that this was what he had been trained for.

  As the Cobras were catapulted out from their launch bays into the blackness he felt a surge of pride. The first human to command a battle in space, he thought. His chest poked out with pride before he admonished himself. Focus, man, focus. ‘Sir, there they are…,’ said Lieutenant Michaels, his voice petering out, as he and everyone else on the ship followed the approach of the marauding ships towards the flotilla at incredible speed. The ships were considerably smaller than the two escorting destroyers but the Cobras were dwarfed by their size.

  ‘Xonian scum,’ said one of the Zeinonian navigators. The puzzled General Corder asked how he knew they were Xonian ships. ‘You see the four wings each with four torpedo launchers.’ General Corder looked harder at the fancy “X” shape of the ships which attached to a black, gnarled and ribbed main body. He picked up the menacing torpedo launchers. He nodded his head. ‘Well, in our training they went through the ships in our databases that held records of all known space fighters and this type of ship was included in the lists and it is an Xonian ship called a Vening,’ said the experienced Zeinonian, Zachary Harris of the Blackstone clan, recalled General Corder. ‘In Xonian language it means “Spitting Death”, nice hey?’ Those in the Command and Control Centre looked round at the frowning, tall Blackstone man.

  ‘Good job we named our fighters Cobras then; let’s get into a spitting contest,’ General Corder retorted. Suddenly, the nearest Vening opened fire on the destroyer to the port side with two torpedoes launched from each of the four wings. The eight missiles within a blink of a second crashed into the side of the destroyer. The Vening pulled away from its attack and was immediately replaced by a second enemy ship, which did the same. The flashes made those following the action flinch.

  Kabel, tracked the explosions as he sped towards the ship. He knew that the plentiful stores they had of the precious ore, that fed the protective shield around all the ships, and extended more weakly to the Cobras, should protect them, but the extent of the firepower of these ships still caused him concern. If they were not careful they would rapidly exhaust the current zinithium loaded into the cell batteries, which would mean they would need to be replenished from reserves, an activity they could not afford at such an early stage in their quest. Who knew what faced them when they reached Zein?

  ‘Cobra ten and two, are you with me?’ Kabel queried. ‘Always,’ was the succinct reply from Hechkle; the other pilot a soldier from the British Royal Air Force also acknowledged. ‘Let’s get stuck in,’ said Kabel.

  Kabel rocked the Cobra to the left as he followed the departing Vening. In the virtual controls wrapped round his head, his thought pulses picked out the homing beacon mark, which sent a powerful laser ray to track the exhaust pipe of the enemy ship. The tracking device locked onto the power source and he gave the silent order to fire the pulse expulsion in the cone of the ship to release the deadly torpedo.

  These were no ordinary torpedoes. Inside with the nuclear device there was a powerful zinithium core that on detonation would quadruple the already significant payload. In Earth it would be the equivalent of five times the power of “Little Boy”, the name of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. This was just one torpedo. He had some pity for the enemy.

  The torpedoes sped towards their destination. They smashed into the back of the ship and Kabel let out a small cheer. There was no explosion. What the hell…

  The torpedo just thumped into the ship and fell away. All around him the same thing was happening to the other fighters; something was deactivating the bombs before they hit, nullifying them. ‘Bogie on my tail can’t shake him, Mayday, Mayday.’ The cries came from one of the Russian pilots; Kabel saw that it was Cobra seventy-nine. Firing with increasing accuracy a Vening was on his tail keeping up with the frantic movements of the smaller aircraft. The shield could only protect the ships so far, with a sustained assault the Cobras were vulnerable.

  ‘Don’t panic, Cobra seventy-nine,’ said Kabel, momentarily turning to Sean after switching off his communications link. ‘Who is flying seventy-nine?’ Belenov, was the response. Kabel reconnected to the pilot and told him to go high as he moved in with a burst of concentrated firing to support the under-pressure Cobra fighter. It was too late for Cobra seventy-nine. The plane exploded.

  Kabel heard anguished screams over his communication link as other pilots’ shared the same fate as Belenov. The Vening ships had turned on the offensive and although slower than the Cobras, their greater experience and the shock to the Cobra fighters that their weapons were useless saw six Cobras blown apart within seconds. Others relied on their photon machine guns rather than their torpedoes to provide some element of protection.

  ‘Kabel, watch out,’
shouted Sean. The Vening in front of them had gone into a steep climb and now was coming in range to return fire. Two torpedoes were launched at them. Kabel flung the Cobra to the right and released photon flares to pull the torpedoes away from the ship. The manoeuvre worked. The weapons exploded away from the ship, which rocked with the sonic blasts. Sean turned his photon machine gun on the Vening and poured round after round into the ship. Kabel just focused on evading the gun sights of the intimidating enemy ship. Perspiration dripped from his brow.

  On the Elanda they watched the dogfight with bated breath. Gemma’s stomach lurched left and right with worry as she saw the distinctive command Cobra fighter with its red tip cone come under increasing fire. The other Cobras were using their greater speed to stay out of the fatal grip of their attackers. Survival was now the overriding objective.

  ‘We’re next,’ said Tyson, as he sensed fierceness and hate emitting from the ships arrayed in front of them. Sure enough, four ships peeled off heading directly for the Elanda with the deadly torpedo launchers on each ship facing the defenders.

  Ready. He sent the command into all the minds of those controlling the anti-ship guns and opened fire. Bailey and Gemma followed him. Soon the air was crisscrossed with blue energy pulsating from the bores of the weapons with the fire pouring into the ships approaching them. Their ammunition was making little impact and the ships kept coming. The Venings launched four torpedoes each and they streaked across space smashing into the ship in an instant. The flash made all the gunners flinch and made the ship shake with the impact.

  ‘What’s the damage?’ General Corder asked, worriedly. He felt tense. This was not going to plan.

  ‘There is no damage, Sir, but we will need to replenish the Protective Barrier if they continue with this barrage,’ said the tall Blackstone operator.

  The attacks on the Elanda increased. Kabel was confused why the powerful battleship’s weapons were having no effect. They had lost another couple of Cobras as the pilots lost confidence in their ability to hit back. They were flinging their ships all around space as they desperately tried to prevent the Venings obtaining a fix on them.