Zein: The Homecoming Read online

  In other cities stories of stalls being ripped down, physical intimidation and mob behaviour were more frequent but what happened in Rome ratcheted up the violence. In retaliation a platoon of Malacca troops had turned on a couple of hitchhiking students in the Eastern Quadrant and beaten them to within an inch of their lives. The two men were now both in a coma with their families angrily denouncing the “alien scum” across the media.

  He slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. As a historian he knew that he was facing a wind of change. Did they not see that over the centuries this had happened before, whether it was the Crusades, Spanish Inquisition, Nazi Germany or Apartheid and segregation in South Africa…that no good would come of this hatred or distrust?

  Charles’s gaze rested on the burning embers of the fire. He had to find a solution and promised that he wouldn’t let all the good work go up in smoke. He didn’t rest that night as he pondered his options. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

  The focus of his worry, the men and women of the Cabal, were on a video conference call, at the same time of the fiery meeting between Charles and Edgar. Their faces shrouded in darkness as they hid their identities from each other, a pre-requisite of their leader, the Speaker. They were listening to the update and pleased to hear it was all going to plan. The Speaker, the only one who knew each of the identities of those on the call, finished the events that had occurred that day and sat down.

  One of the faceless members, with a strong accent that placed him in Asia, spoke. ‘How are we going to secure the flow of zinithium?’

  ‘Over the next few weeks we will be moving our assets around to each and every site where the raw material is mined. Before the end of the month all supplies of zinithium will be under our control,’ said the Speaker.

  ‘How about the remaining Zein forces, the Malacca clan army is still strong?’ an American voice asked.

  ‘They will be compromised and too busy protecting their own quadrant to be an issue,’ the Speaker answered assuredly.

  ‘The protests are going well but there are still many supporters of the aliens,’ a strong guttural Germanic voice uttered.

  The Speaker rose and leaned against the desk. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, all will be taken care off. I have to ask, are you all still behind the vision?’

  One by one they all confirmed their allegiance and when the last agreement was received, the Speaker raised hands to the ceiling triumphantly. ‘The Cabal has spoken. Soon we will become the most powerful force not just on Earth but in the Universe,’ the Speaker concluded, envisaging that the silhouettes of the twenty or so people from the most influential families, organisations and military in the world wore smug and satisfied smiles.

  The Speaker closed the call on the powerful laptop and settled back in the chair at the solid Regency table. All was going to plan, control of the zinithium mining was nearly complete, and manipulation of public perception, even on the Zeinonian achievements was inflaming feelings towards the aliens. The Speaker smirked. The Cabal could only see the riches available; however, for the Speaker this was personal, with hatred for the Zeinonians running deep. Satisfied by progress the Speaker was ready to twist the knife and the most critical part of the plan would be set in motion. Soon the alien race will be under the Cabal’s full control with nowhere to run.

  Chapter 7: Zein

  The companions decided to split up to search the vast ship for Tyson. When he left the fitness arena he seemingly disappeared with no one able to confirm where he may have gone. It was now almost three hours since the confrontation and his friends concern for their friend was growing. Kabel, Bronstorm and Hechkle took the stern, spreading out across the multiple corridors. The rest moved to the bow. They all worked from top to bottom, except Gemma, who decided to travel down in the sleek lift to the Embankment Floor.

  Gemma’s intuition told her that Tyson may have been drawn to the levitation tanks lined up side by side on this floor. The deck that contained the Embankment Floor was impressive, spanning the whole ship and included not just tanks but every other type of vehicle that any self-respecting expeditionary force would die for. Now the attraction of this impressive array of vehicles had brought her here. The floor, above the hangars that contained the fixed wing fighters, was an enormous space. She cast her eyes down the ranks of tanks and armoured vehicles and only saw a few token sentries. There was no one else down here so if he wanted to hide finding him could take some time.

  ‘Hi, Gemma.’ The greeting, though whispered quietly carried clearly in the large hangar.

  Or not so long! Gemma turned to where the sound generated from and there he stood; her doubts of being able to find him evaporating quickly, a mixture of anger and concern overtaking her worry. He was leaning against one of the levitation tanks, staring into the distance, as if he carried the troubles of the world on his shoulders.

  ‘Come to give me a lecture?’ His voice was bitter and she realised that she needed to tone down her anger knowing he would be able to sense it.

  ‘No, we are all worried about you,’ said Gemma, approaching him slowly, unsure whether his anger was under control. Tyson turned to stare at her. His eyes were a dull blue and she noticed that his face looked a little grey as if he had aged a couple of years in the space of a few hours. ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘If you mean feeling like my body is not my own and endangering my friends, probably not?’ said Tyson. Gemma reached up and held her hand against his face: it was cold She was concerned.

  Where was the Tyson who used to have so much energy irritating the hell out of me?

  Tyson turned his cheek against her warm hand, nuzzling in. Gemma moved closer. The physical attraction was immense. She was close to Kabel but Tyson was… dangerous. She ran her other hand down his right arm feeling the muscular outline. Tyson didn’t say anything but kept his eyes in contact with hers. Amelia. His mind screamed at him. He was confused and felt his grip on reality slipping away from him as the magics inside him twisted this way and that, gnawing at his very soul.

  The touch of Gemma caressing his arm and his cheek both inflamed him and soothed his turbulent internal thoughts. His whole body began to shake with wanting. The thoughts of Amelia were pushed to the side. Gemma felt Tyson’s body shake as she pressed her body to his. The heat of his body radiated off him as the temperature around them soared. Her head was level with his neck and chin. She tilted her head back and Tyson felt the warm delicacy of her breath. His lips moved to meet hers and when they touched it was like a reverse electric shock. It didn’t throw them apart but acted like a magnet as their bodies moulded to each other.

  Sensual. Exciting. Dangerous.

  They kissed hard and violently. No caressing now, their bodies on fire. Gemma felt herself lifted off the ground as Tyson wrapped his arms around her.

  Amelia, Amelia…the voice in his head said her name over and over again pushing him back from the brink. Tyson relaxed his grip on Gemma, returning her feet to the ground and pushed her gently away from him. They could hear voices coming from the main lift as they stared at each other. Both panting, breathless, unsure what the last minute meant.

  ‘Hey there they are guys,’ said Bailey, spying the two across the hangar as he ran forward and then slowing down when he saw his sister and Tyson standing there silently with their chests heaving with the intensity of the kiss. Thinking quickly he turned round as Amelia and Kabel approached the pair. ‘It’s all right, Gemma has found him. He is fine,’ said Bailey, shielding them from their approaching partners.

  Pull yourself together, he thought so Tyson could pick up the warning.

  Tyson gulped and dropped his gaze from Gemma’s who snapped out of the dreamlike state she was in. Amelia ran past Bailey, ignoring Gemma and wrapped her arms around Tyson. He hesitantly did the same to her and she then surprised him by pushing him away and hit his arm with a clenched fist. ‘Don’t run off like that again,’ said Amelia, angrily and then hugged him again. The others,
even Gemma, smiled and Tyson couldn’t suppress a small smile either. Bailey gave a sideways glance at his sister and she dropped her head to avoid his accusing stare.

  The companions made their way to the Command and Control Centre via the main lift, where an uneasy silence descended with all thoughts focusing on Tyson, for different reasons. Tyson ignored the thoughts that swirled round his consciousness and cleared his mind, resting the back of his head on the cold steel of the lift. When they stepped out of the lift, Bailey pulled Gemma back. The others made their way to the nerve centre of the ship.

  ‘What do you think you are doing? Don’t you think this is screwed up as it is without you making a play for Tyson?’ said Bailey, angry at his sister.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ mumbled Gemma. Bailey could not hold back the dislike for his sister he was feeling.

  ‘For years you knew Tyson liked you, yet you ignored him, leaving me to pick up the pieces. Then he finds someone as lovely as Amelia, your best friend, and you want to mess it all up!’ Gemma blushed, the shame she was feeling reflecting the trueness of what her brother was saying.

  ‘Amelia always gets the attention,’ she said, feeling sorry for herself, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. Bailey eased off realising that this was a combination of long term issues and picking up that Gemma was truly regretting her actions.

  ‘Gemma, I understand how you feel, I have seen Amelia sway even the most hard-hearted of boys but you can see, can’t you, that she is the only one who can control Tyson?’ His sister agreed knowing this was true.

  ‘She loves him terribly,’ said Gemma, quietly. ‘I suppose I am still uncertain about Kabel and it is messing with my mind.’ Bailey wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

  ‘I know, give it time, a lot has happened and Kabel is a good man.’ Gemma gently pushed her brother away and wiped away the tears and gazed respectfully up at him.

  ‘Wow, look at my sensible brother, looking after his emotional sister, who would have thought?’

  Bailey laughed. ‘Hey, I am all grown up now, have a proper girlfriend and a gun.’ Gemma laughed along with him and they hooked arms and went in search of their companions.

  In the Command and Control Centre, General Corder was absently feeling his neck where the bruising was now apparent from Tyson’s previous grip when they walked into the room. He was studiously reviewing the latest charts, ignoring the group, when Tyson approached him.

  ‘Sir, please accept my apologies for my actions. It will not happen again,’ said Tyson, formally. General Corder slowly put down the charts and turned to face Tyson.

  ‘Accepted, young man. Any other action like that and I will have you confined to the Brig. Understand?’ the army man replied standing straight and using all his military bearing to reinforce the words.

  Tyson accepted the admonishment. Sometimes he felt lost, looking in on someone who was him, but not him. There were times he wished he could return to the old Tyson, playing sport and drinking beer. He just knew that he was never going back to those carefree days with his body and mind firmly pushing him into a strange world that he was struggling to keep pace with.

  ‘Good. Lord Blackstone, can I ask you to look at these charts and to help us understand where we are on our journey?’ said General Corder, dismissing Tyson from his concern. Kabel joined him and they began to review the charts. They had a pre-set course programmed into the ship’s computer, similar to how they teleported. The difficulty they were facing was the lack of understanding of the impact related to the more aggressive bending of space and time on the accuracy of the coordinates that the Zein Inner Council had provided to the Expeditionary Force. The others retreated from the Command and Control Centre glad to leave the strategy decision makers to their own, egotistical world.

  They all decided that they needed food and went to the canteen which was packed. This was no dreary metal room with stodgy food. The first thing which hit you on entering was the huge atrium housing full grown trees centred in a room that spanned a quarter of the top deck at the back of the ship. The glass roof could be covered with sliding steel shutters in the event of approaching asteroid belts or in the time of battle it would close like large all weather stadiums.

  Looking up at the reinforced fused silica heavy duty glass you were able to look out on the twinkling stars of wherever in the galaxy you were travelling through. There was every cuisine known to man and Zeinonian on offer, all beautifully cooked by the extensive catering staff complement. You could eat at formal tables or take a stroll under the trees and have a picnic. This was a place you came not just to eat but to relax.

  After selecting a range of meals from their daily allowances they sat down at one of the large oblong tables, similar to those used at the Federation Fair. Hechkle and Bronstorm sat opposite each other as they tucked into their food. Bailey, sitting next to Bronstorm, glanced across at the big warrior and then at his other companions. He saw the strain of the last few days clear on their faces and it was then Bailey decided it was time for some light relief. He grinned inwardly; it was time to bring the big man down. He cleared his throat and roughly pushed away his empty plate so that it clanged against Hechkle’s plate and stood up, leaning his fists on the table facing his hulking companion. Hechkle initially went still and then continued eating his food as if nothing was happening.

  ‘Hechkle, I bet my evening meal against yours that I could eat ten doughnuts quicker than you,’ said Bailey, with his stance wide and moving his hands onto his hips, trying to intimidate the six foot four inch muscle man. Hechkle still didn’t look up at him but simply finished his food, placed his knife and fork in the middle of his empty plate and then wiped his lips with his napkin.

  ‘Scared are you, Mr Muscle man?’ Bailey goaded him with a big smile creasing his face, taking away the menace in the aggressive statement. Tyson laughed as did Amelia. Gemma’s mind was still on what had happened on the lower deck and was quietly eating her chicken salad. Then Hechkle slowly stood up. On the table they were seated at and on other tables around them, those who had heard the challenge exited their seats and formed a circle around the two men. Hechkle dropped his napkin onto the plate.

  ‘Is that your white flag of surrender?’ Bailey prodded at the great man’s pride. Hechkle, with a twinkle in his eye, eventually raised his bushy eyebrows and emerald eyes to stare at his tormenter. He stood up and leaned on the table, mirroring Bailey’s initial stance. Even though it was a playful challenge, Bailey couldn’t help but swallow nervously when faced with the man mountain just a few feet away from him.

  I never want to cross this guy for real.

  ‘Bring it on, puny human,’ Hechkle growled. As soon as he accepted the challenge, Bronstorm as quick as lightning fetched twenty doughnuts from the plentiful desert table and plonked them on the table. Hechkle gave his fighting partner a look that would curdle milk. Bronstorm just raised both his eyebrows in complete innocence.

  ‘Just helping,’ he said, sweetly as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  Hechkle gestured Bailey to the seat opposite to him vacated by Bronstorm and they both took their places.

  ‘Now big man, the rules are you must eat all the doughnuts and have nothing left in your mouth to win, have you got that or do I draw you a picture?’ said Bailey, cheekily. Hechkle gave no smile. It was as if he was facing a squad of Ilsid and not a light-hearted eating contest.

  ‘Zeinonian versus Human,’ said Hechkle, adding to the laughter around the table and more raucous name calling from the watchers.

  Amelia stepped forward and gave the count down. When she reached one the two men grabbed two doughnuts each. They alternately took a bite out of each doughnut, and then stared at each other as they swallowed the first mouthful before cramming the next huge bite into their mouths. Within the first minute they demolished the first two before moving onto the next two. Both wouldn’t avert their gaze from each other, making it a very comical picture.

  The
shouting of their supporters became louder and louder, clearly split between human and Zeinonian. Tyson, who up to this point had been joining in the fun, began to pick up abundant random thoughts from the supporters.

  Show him that we are better.

  Humans have no guts.

  Muscle freak is going to lose.

  How dare he challenge one of us!

  Tyson opened his mind to more thoughts. He was shocked. The enmity between the opposing camps was clear to see. He felt uneasy. This did not bode well for the expedition. Bailey was ahead and had two doughnuts left and Hechkle had three. The crowd grew closer and the shouting of encouragement louder. Both Hechkle and Bailey, fixated on each other, did not pick up the building atmosphere around them but Amelia and Gemma did. They had both been laughing with Gemma breaking out of her quiet state, now they began to pick up the vibes, as did Bronstorm whose stance changed from relaxed to anticipating trouble. Bailey stuffed the last doughnut in his mouth and chewed vigorously. Hechkle looked beat but continued as best as he could. Bailey finished his last doughnut and stood up triumphantly, his arms out wide accepting the cheering from the human contingent. Hechkle groaned. It was then that Bailey realised that the activity he had thought of to lighten the day had backfired. The resentment emanating from the Zeinonians and the aggression of the humans made for a volatile mix.

  One of the Malacca soldiers standing behind Bailey pushed him. Bailey pushed him back. Another Malacca soldier stepped aggressively towards Bailey and Hechkle leapt across the table to stand in front of Bailey, protecting him. The Malacca soldiers backed off a little faced with the intimidating presence of the Fathom warrior. Bronstorm turned to face the human wall of the crowd behind him. The soldiers pushed forward. Bronstorm automatically crouched waiting for the attack from the jeering onlookers. No weapons were allowed on the ship, with all of them locked away unless given dispensation by either General Corder or Lord Blackstone; this would be a fist fight.