Hoax of the Gabra Shi

By Georgina Zuvela

Rosko Krystoffe and Derek Schoemakker are on an ambitious quest to Jupiters moon Callisto with a small crew, which includes Gretchen Tousard and Vanda Shariffe. Their mission is to rescue Eva who is presumed sold into slavery, and to repossess an alien artifact named the Madonna's Cross that is unlawfully held in possession by the Calliston Gabra Shi.
As competition increases among the top scientists in OOS and also between the Spirullian Force and SEVs Syncronised Network, Rosko devises a plan to liberate the enslaved people with the aide of his Paragonian Secret Army.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524517120

Georgina Zuvela

I was born in Surrey, England 1958 to a seamstress and an animation artist. I attended the Heath Clark Grammar School in Croydon. I left England to be married at seventeen. In Zagreb I worked as Secretary of the American School and also as a translator.     I immigrated to Australia in 1983. I worked as a computer operator until I became a mother of three. For fifteen years I was a Director of my husband’s business. I volunteered as a Catechist in the Diosese of Broken Bay during the 90’s. I love working in retail and creative writing has become a passion and fulfilment in my life.     My novels are fun to read, playing with common fears and phobias, crime and vigilantism. Power, religion and social acceptance are mixed with adventure and the notion of achievable immortality. The plot evolves and leads the reader to new revelations about the Madonna’s Cross. The series is filled with action, mystery and drama. There is some romance and also a healthy sense of humour.  

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Georgina Zuvela.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5245-1711-3

               eBook           978-1-5245-1712-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/09/2016

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Askew

Chapter 2 Prince Xavier

Chapter 3 Grouch

Chapter 4 Pandemonium

Chapter 5 Skittled

Chapter 6 Artemis Gossip

Chapter 7 Prototype

Chapter 8 Crag Mount

Chapter 9 Hooligans

Chapter 10 Abduction

Chapter 11Seduction

Chapter 12 Forgotten Cause

Chapter 13 Cave Mines

Chapter 14 Positive Sign

Chapter 15 Insurgence

Chapter 16 Smoked Out

Chapter 17 Check Mate

Chapter 18 Monarchy

Chapter 19 Tempest

Chapter 20 Evacuation

Jovian Moons

Glossary

A Letter From The Author

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my Dad

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge and thank Goran for being a friend and encouraging me in my writing. Your steadfast and loving patience is certainly appreciated. I feel we are on this epic journey together.

Friends have taught me never to doubt myself. I owe them a debt of gratitude. The spirit of generosity is evidently within their hearts.

I would also like to thank the crew at Xlibris for their understanding and guidance in the world of publishing.

Georgina Zuvela

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The cover artwork is all thanks to FrinaArt

www.selfpubbookcovers.com/FrinaArt

— CHAPTER 1 —

ASKEW

OOS can be a lonely place, you know, Rosko, I’m only too glad you chose to come on board. You’ve livened it up around here enormously—hah! You wait till you see Jupiter up close, man, that’s a sight worth suffering the confines of this old Hoppermax for—and now that we’ve got passed the asteroid belt, well, it should be all plain sailing from here on in, Captain Hillary Jefferson reassured his latest recruit, and he switched to auto astropilot. The dwarf astronaut relaxed into his pilot seat, and with bloodshot eyes put his oversized feet up on top of the dashboard. Letting his eyelids droop for one sly moment, he inadvertently hit the switch that set the small trade-shuttle forty-five degrees off course.

Neither of these astronauts had registered the subtle amber light that had begun to flash on the dashboard amid an array of colours that were quietly blinking all around the cockpit—nor had they taken notice when it faded moments later into an inconspicuous dot. The pair had been engrossed in a discussion about the pros and cons in relation to life as it presented itself out here in space at such a great distance from planet Earth. Confounded by a sudden pang of nostalgia that overwhelmed them along with a great deal of regret for having left Earth at such haste, their initial presumption they could remain stoic at all times was challenged with a vague sense of insecurity that spoke for itself.

The year had been 2086 when they departed from Earth, and Jefferson, being the seasoned solo astropilot that he was, and regular slipspace traveller to the Jovian moons, had agreed to accommodate a passenger crew comprised of the Paragonian royal family, who had combined their talents, their hopes and ambitions, and had initiated this whole daring and dangerous quest to the Jovian moon Callisto, in order to liberate the slaves who were suffering a fate worse than death, being that they were forced to reside and work on the moon indefinitely.

Senior among them was the currently exiled—through no fault of his own—King of Paragonia, Daniel Krystoffe-Xavier, the only surviving son of Prince Baikal Xavier of the Paragon Cross. Next in line to the throne was his son, Prince Rosko Krystoffe, who had brought along his cousin, Derek Schoemakker, and a couple of independent female volunteers for the ride, whose names were Gretchen Tousard and Vanda Shariffe. The family was missing Rosko’s mother, Eva Krystoffe, since she had the terrible misfortune of being abducted by Spirullian lieutenants the previous year, and was believed to have been taken to Callisto and sold into slavery by them. It was for Eva’s sake that her family found themselves waving good-bye to their home planet with tears in their eyes.

At length the astronaut crew were all settling in for a tedious slipspace journey across a stretch of OOS—the Outer Orient Spectrum, also known as the Milky Way Galaxy—without knowing exactly what they had gotten themselves into. They were all contemporary ‘greenhorns’ when it came to slipspace travel, except for Captain Hillary Jefferson, of course, who was the proprietor of this independent space trade-shuttle. He had spent a couple of decades in this line of business, although his shuttle was by far the smallest model of Hoppermax on the market. It suited his purpose for delivering specialised, luxury goods, at exorbitant prices, into the hands of wealthy dignitaries living far and wide in the solar system. Goods which fetched him enough of a profit in galaxy drakmaa and hospitality to see him comfortably into an early retirement.

Rosko encouraged Captain Jefferson to catch some well needed shuteye, and he volunteered to take the command in the meantime. You ought to hit the sack with the others, Hill—I’ll watch out for asteroids for a bit, if you trust me, he said. I need some time alone to formulate a fool proof strategy—hopefully we can reduce the risks and maximise on the results—we’ll only get one chance at making our mission work. You do understand—I don’t intend to spend too much time on Callisto, Hill, I plan to complete this operation as swiftly as possible, he reminded him.

I told you not to fret.

I’ve got plenty of research to complete, if you don’t mind, Hill, I’ll need to use your computer, Rosko said.

Be my guest—and the controls are all yours, mate, but don’t forget to wake me up in eight astro hours without delay. You won’t need to worry about asteroids out here, but go ahead, have some fun if you must, succumbed the blurry eyed captain and then he retired to his cell.

The passengers had been oblivious to their surroundings for many astro weeks already, submersed in an electrolyte gel, and were to remain sublimely comatose for a long period of time. Jefferson checked on them, and adjusted their astro timers. He set the timer on his personal incubator and then slipped into the warmth of soothing gel and locked himself inside his cocoon with his big toe on the switch. He gradually sunk into a deep and satisfying nature trip, being instantly taken to a virtual paradise, surrounded by half naked women, the tropics on a beautiful, turquoise sea, a beach shaded by coconut palms and he blissfully fell into an enviable, though calculated state of absolute pleasure.

Rosko was now in command of the space shuttle and got to work on refreshing his knowledge on ‘how to handle a Hoppermax’, in case he was challenged by any number of possible hazards. Cruising across the solar system, he cautiously monitored the atmospheric gauge, making sure there was enough oxygen flowing through the system. He still failed to notice the immediate error with the auto astropilot.

They continued to travel deeper and deeper into OOS, but in the wrong direction, until Rosko eventually suspected that something was askew. He was intrigued by several conflicting pop-up messages on the dashboard screen in holographic form. He focussed on one object in particular with concern. It gave him the most unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach to see the 3DH image tagged as an unidentified flying object.

Rosko examined the object in question and established it was a tetrahedron space vessel, which appeared to be disintegrating space junk left floating around the solar system. The sight looked eerily familiar. His gut feeling set alarm bells off in his head as he realised they had drifted into a Spirullian Defence Zone.

Oh frolicking nuts…! he muttered in acute anguish and tried to get a second reading on the dashboard. He listened to what appeared to be unrelated radio signals. Baffled by the strangely euphonious noise, which sounded more like whales calling from deep under an ocean, he tried to decipher the message.

Rosko listened to the haunting music with a sense of déjà vu. Holy mackerel! I want to get a translation on this, he muttered, evoking the system’s bionic brain, which came up with an appropriate application. He selected A.I.R., which stood for Animal Interpretations & Recitals, and listening intently, he confirmed his initial conclusion. He knew the words belonged to a certain mantra by the way it affected his emotional state and sense of wellbeing. It was strangely nostalgic, and in a sense allowed him to tap into a sub conscience stream of thought, which brought the past into focus… ‘Don manwo sindo hanon fisubelo vi tusonet gabra shi…’ Rosko tuned in his voice to the whale-like music and was happy to just drift along with it, since there was nothing he could do about the Spirullian advance.

Rosko recognised this unique chant from his childhood. His father had taught him how to meditate from the age of seven. He also recognised the name of the Gabra Shi, and it gave him goosebumps down the side of his face, as if someone had kissed him tenderly—the way a mother would kiss her child when she doesn’t want to disturb its sleep.

All at once Rosko became transfixed in a paranoid jumble of joy and fear—he felt as though the Gabra Shi was protecting him from afar, just as she had promised to during their meeting in the caves of Lupadilia. When she spoke, her voice had been as constant as the wind but had the gentle affect of a summer’s breeze. He had met her for the first time, down under the mountains, in a cave called the Quintilian Chamber.

Captivated, Rosko sang along with the chant… Don manwo sindo hanon fisubelo vi tusonet gabra shi… till he decided to select another form of translation just to compare. Switching to nocturnal animal translations, however he got the exact same result… ‘Don manwo sindo hanon fisubelo vi tusonet gabra shi…’ muttering to himself, This is extraordinary to the point of being eerie.

Time passed speedily for Rosko until Jefferson recovered from his comparatively short slumber, and saw fit to return to the cockpit.

Want a chunk of macadamia? It’s my very own recipe, Jefferson startled Rosko who was more concerned with the UFO sightings than getting a dose of nutrients for himself. Jefferson sat down to munch on his energy bar. Learn anything new then, while I was gone? You wait till you get to land this ol’ Hoppermax, mate, it’s one crazy piece of machinery, I’m warning you, he babbled with his teeth full of macadamia. He thought nothing of lifting his feet up onto the dashboard.

Rosko was busy, trying to decipher the information showing on the screen. His face was slapped red with concentration. Ah…ooh…ah! Nope! I haven’t learnt anything new, not exactly, Hill, he mumbled as Jefferson got in his way. But I guess we’ve made a slight human error—take a look at this, buddy!

An error? Well, I can see you’ve got the hang of my brand new radar system, mate, I only installed it this year! He was slow to notice three UFO’s encroaching their slipspace route. The holographic radar images were suspiciously obscure at this point. Hey, what’s this then? You inviting guests, are you? Jefferson shot up like a jack in a box.

It’s obviously Spirullian Defence on the war path, Hill, they’re shooting at anything that gets in their way!

Rosko, what exactly have you been up to while I was away? I can’t trust you even a few hours on your own! Jefferson protested and immediately flicked on the ‘Defence Shield’. The last thing we want is battleships honing in on us—Ruddy Nora! The bastards are honing right in on our fricking slip route. Look—damn it! You watch ’em—they’ll intersect in less than an hour—They’re going to ram us up the ruddy arse! Jefferson jumped to his feet and slamming his fist down as he activated the ‘Stealth Mode’ on the controls. This is an emergency situation, Rosko—By Jove, you should’ve woken me up earlier, damn it!

Rosko turned the volume up on the whale music and put on his headphones. Maybe you can help us decipher this weird message, Hill—I picked this up an hour ago. Listen! he said, watching his reaction.

Holy mackerel! I told you, Spirullians were on to us, mate—I bet they’re up to no good. Quick, Rosko! Switch off the power immediately! It’s our only option—We have to avoid a major confrontation!

Gotcha, mate! I’m right on to it, obeyed Rosko without objection.

I’m afraid nothing will faze that lot. They’re Spirullian scouts, that’s for sure. Incapacitate the nuclear reactor—that’ll confuse ’em—We can’t take any chances. Man! If the worse comes to the worst, we’ll have to claim ignorance, okay? Beads of sweat broke out on Jefferson’s brow. Hopefully they’ll presume we’ve got technical problems—Crap! I hope they don’t incinerate or blast us out of existence like a piece of junk.

Hold on to the seat of your pants, mate, we’re going for a free fall, Rosko warned him. Shutting down auxiliary controls, now, Captain. The Spirullian scouts were rapidly approaching and the two astronauts clung to the flimsy hope of surviving weightlessness with loss of power.

Jefferson thought it was time to pass on a few observations. Speaking from experience, Rosko, he advised in a low mumble. Even though you may well think you know something about Spirullians—I found, contrary to popular belief, they are actually noble minded beings—most of the time.

Let’s hope so, mate.

They’re known to stand, steadfast, to the highest degree of moral standing, if you know what I mean—And their intelligence is absolutely mind blowing, mate, especially when you get to know ’em—

Which may, or may not, be encouraging—

Considering our current predicament, Rosko, it’s a very comforting thought, Jefferson said.

"Sure it is, Hill, it doesn’t mean they won’t do anything stupid though, does it?" remarked Rosko.

Nevertheless, paragonman, immortality has granted them overall superiority out here in OOS, just in case you were thinking of making waves—They happen to possess the most advanced technology in the galaxy. My advise, Rosko, is never mess with Spirullians—not under any circumstances—If for no other reason than they can simply detect a lie from a hundred light years away, mate.

No worries, Hill. Rosko rolled his eyes.

And, my best advise to you is always make sure you have something at hand—to trade, like old school pencils—they love ’em. I also recommend you keep your women folk well out of reach, lectured Jefferson.

Silence fell on them both, apart from the haunting whale song, as they prepared for the worst. The creaking old Hoppermax drifted on the tide of gravity, suspended in slow motion. It seemed like the only thing that was holding them together. They were on the threshold of death. They clung to their woes. After a moment’s contemplation they doubted anyone on Earth would miss them. Feeling like utter failures, they wished they had got more time to plan this haphazard flight. They were painfully aware of their impending fate which lay in the lap of the Spirullian Guard.

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The Spirullian admiral sat on his forecastle in his SOOSB900, having deployed his squadron to check out the lone shuttle, which had entered his Defence Zone. With his long spindly finger right on the button at the control panel, he communicated to his scouts via Intellectual Radio Cognition or IRC impulses. His special company of Spirullian Guard, being seasoned warriors of sovereign ranks, were the most experienced explorers of OOS. They commanded the highest multiform intelligence in the galaxy.

These Spirullians were in fact the result of a cross species that included many original forms of life from planet Earth. They had interlocking, feather-like follicles that resembled a head of hair. These feather strands were their main receptacles, rather like antennae, through which all radio signals were received directly into their brains. The silvery white strands were flexible and by interlocking they formed an impervious kind of helmet when it was needed.

Their memories, although excellent, relied mainly upon the Central Cognition Implant Station, which they received soon after birth. This CCIS gathered information that was constantly updated from the source, and remotely relayed the signals via their battleship, and ultimately connected them to their home planet.

Neither robots nor cyborgs, these Spirullians were the ancient guardians of life within OOS. They were voyagers who loved to collect souvenirs from other planets. They valued comradeship more than anything. They were also used to living it rough, and their bodies were adapted to extreme conditions. Their sleek constitutions were protected by scaly skin, which they shed periodically, with no need of any apparel.

Like paragonman, Spirullian’s had emerald-green eyes but they were also naturally shielded by two layers of graphenium.

Generally, Admiral Raoul considered humans to be inferior, a primitive race and a naturally selfish species with predatory tendencies. Although quirky artisans with a vague desire for justice, which sometimes came at a cost to innocence, this strangely inherent trait made humans utterly warped in his opinion, and yet he understood the desire for respect was mutual between them.

Admiral Raoul was used to seeing space exploration probes out on missions from planet Earth, however they were usually benign objects sent by amateurs and mostly university students. However this faltering Hoppermax, he suspected, was either completely lost, or out of its depth, or else the astropilot was a presumptuous and extremely arrogant fool.

The Spirullian Admiral had been intrigued lately by some very bizarre human activities. One in particular that recently came to his attention was the veneration of a ‘Gabra Shi’ who was permanently in residence on the moon Callisto. He had become amused with this recent trend among humans to assume superiority and thereby colonise nearly every convenient landing spot in the solar system. They had nothing to back up their claim of superiority as far as he could figure, and it worried him they might challenge his command in OOS if they continued on this ridiculous path—using the Gabra Shi as a guru to convince the crowds.

What was worse, he knew that humans were also dabbling in brainwashing techniques to sway his lieutenants and his scouts as never before. Using radio signals, Gerald Topovski, the long standing CEO of Starlineage Enterprises and Ventures, known as SEV, was reported openly enticing Spirullians to defect. If there was any offence he detested more, it was this very crime of attempting to render his command obsolete, blatantly implementing their cowardly brainwashing techniques. It was evident to the admiral, and naturally very disturbing, to discover that SEV had been promising a life of luxuries in exchange for spending a mere ten years of their lives working on Callisto.

According to Admiral Raoul’s human history data there was plenty of evidence to confirm that humans were incapable of conforming to any kind of regime for long, let alone for an extensive period of time.

Communism, paragonianism, capitalism and even democracy were all predestined to failure under human authority. The admiral was convinced that as a species humans were hard wired to become their own worst enemies. In the admiral’s opinion, Callistons were no different from regular humans back on planet Earth and he believed they were driven first by greed and unequivocally by short sighted, selfish reasoning.

The uncanny emergence of a brand new form of dictatorship under the guise of the Gabra Shi was an abomination in his eyes, nevertheless it didn’t surprise him in the least. Neither had the thought eluded him that SEV was using this guru’s charismatic appeal to deflect the people’s attention away from a growing controversy—whether it was ethical to enforce hard labour in exchange for immortality, or whether it was more productive to make the immortalising vaccine available to everyone.

Admiral Raoul had spent centuries observing from afar, and also from close up in more recent times with first hand experience, and was led to suspect that yet another uprising was brewing. The ripening Callistons were soon to topple the very power upon which their future depended.

Recently, while on reconnaissance down in a cave on the South Cape of Africa, Admiral Raoul had been fortunate enough to have encountered the true Gabra Shi, therefore he knew that the Calliston one was an elaborate hoax, most likely conjured up by the CEO of SEV. This evidence alone convinced him they were already losing their foothold on Callisto.

"The corporation has obviously got very shaky foundations," Admiral Raoul pondered out loud, scratching a scaly patch on his chin. He winked at Lieutenant Ambrah and got on with his job, sifting through local Intelligence.

It came to his attention that circulating OOS were two popular rumours—the first, which involved the Calliston Gabra Shi, assumed that she was one of Dr Gerald Topovski’s puppets. The second was even more intriguing. It pricked up the admiral’s ears in secret jubilation. It said that Prince Xavier of the Paragon Cross had been sighted several times in Stork City on the moon Callisto, and that he was looking for a wife.

In the first place, he suspected that Prince Xavier was remaining incognito to stay out of harm’s way, since he was the one who had buried the Madonna’s Cross on Callisto—this being the very artifact, that was stolen from a Sister Cluster on Earth, about a hundred years before, and the admiral had intended to recover it at some point. He was certain the cluster contained Spirullian DNA, and according to his history data, it had been stashed away for safe keeping on Earth by his forefathers over 200,000 years ago. The fact the Calliston Gabra Shi was using this stolen Madonna’s Cross as the main source of her power, and that Topovski was playing second fiddle to her, was a red flag to the admiral.

While dwelling on these, not so myopic, insights spread by tittle tattle, and after a lengthy discussion with his faithful lieutenants, the admiral felt worried and slightly baffled by these latest of human activities.

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An image of Admiral Raoul popped up on Jefferson’s dashboard screen and greeted him with a Texan accent. Ahah! Captain Jefferson! We have to stop meeting like this. I knew it was you as soon as I saw the white flag. I’m sure you’re not drying your underwear again—Why are you playing so hard to get? It took me ages to tap into your system. I thought you would have learnt your lesson by now—Are you reading me, Captain?

Er—y-yes Sir! S-Sorry but we’ve suffered of a major glitch, Sir, replied Jefferson as the controls flashed a ‘Spyware Infiltration’ warning.

Never mind about that—but I hope you’re gonna make ‘saving your butt’ worth my while, you little mongrel, teased the admiral with a grin to match his broad accent. I look forward to having you on board with the rest of your crew, Jefferson—You’re all invited to dinner.

Jefferson felt humiliated but he was glad to see the Spirullian in good spirits. What a pleasure it will be, Admiral—I am so relieved you could find us so far from Earth—Wonders never cease!

How did you lose your way again, Jefferson?

Er—I told you it was a major technical hitch—I’m afraid we ran into a spot of bother with our control system, he blurted, wearing a cheesy grin.

And what do you have to trade this time? And I’m not interested in your dried jerkings this time, Jefferson. You’ll have to come up with something a bit more exotic than that, Admiral Raoul toyed with him.

Righty ho! Well okay then—I was going to offer you spices from Garamasala and also some of the most exquisite truffles from France. They are the size of tennis balls, I’ll have you know, confided Jefferson in his most tantalising tone of voice.

Oh, good! Very good, Captain! And what else have you got? My mouth is watering already. Do you have any Pashki smoked cheese? I do very much hope so, the admiral inquired with an optimistic air.

I’ve got heaps of it, actually, and I’ve got a wonderful bear skin that’s absolutely top quality—Oh, and also, are you interested in a rare collection of red coral larvae to compliment your giant aquarium, Admiral? I presume you still own that lake on Mango Mountain. I do hope to see it some day—if I live long enough, Jefferson enticed him, sounding more confident by the minute that his carefully selected merchandise was to stand them in good stead.

Yeah! My wife would love it! But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to really impress me, Jefferson. Have you got any embryos?

Oh yes, Admiral, I almost forgot, and everything you need to create as many little tykes as you want, he replied, looking sideways at Rosko. He was feeling the pressure from both sides of the console. He managed to pull up a long inventory on the monitor that listed all the products available in stock. I’ll show you exactly what I’ve got, Admiral. Take note of the treasure trove, full of luxurious silkworms—I know your wife would love them, Sir. These little fellows produce absolutely, top quality silk, in great abundance, and also in half the time, he informed the inquisitive Spirullian.

Great! You’ve said the magic word, my friend.

Thank you, Sir, when can we come aboard then?

Right away, my good man. You are more than welcome. Sit back and enjoy the ride. I’ll have my squadron tow you back to the dock. You’ll be in the quay within the hour, Admiral Raoul assured him.

Jefferson conceded and buckled up again, feeling greatly relieved at having survived these initial formalities. He watched the spindly image of the Spirullian with silver cone shaped hair, shrink to a blue dot on the dashboard screen. Both he and Rosko were feeling optimistic and heaved a great sigh of relief. They were glad to see their Spirullian buddy again.

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Admiral Raoul waited patiently for the Hoppermax crew to recover and then invited his seven captives to speak with him in his private quarters, amidst his display of glittering plankton, housed within globules of seawater, the colourful bubbles floated around the room and lit up the cosy foyer with a romantic glow.

My dear guests, it is my great pleasure to welcome you all aboard the SOOSB900, he said and blinked at a light in the wall to begin the virtual tour of the ship. I trust you are feeling refreshed. I’m sorry for any imposition you may have suffered in the transfer. It seems that you were very lucky this time. I would suggest you be more choosy in your choice of space shuttle in future. Young travellers, this model of Hoppermax has been obsolete for decades. I doubt it would have completed the slipspace journey to the Jovian Moons—it’s in a state of disrepair—far too run down to be up here in OOS. You could have ended up, er—in terrible strife, dare I say, Admiral Raoul lectured them.

Nevertheless, Admiral, it was on the cards that we bump into each other, you have to admit, remarked Rosko revealing a sarcastic streak. It’s almost as if you were stalking us, dare I say. We are grateful, but you still owe us for ruining our coastline, and for flattening Vanda’s sanctuary island. You should never have shot those meteorites into the South Sea—and you can’t deny it, Admiral.

Jefferson nudged Rosko in the ribs.

The admiral grunted. Still, this is a good opportunity for us to catch up—share our knowledge and delve into the latest developments prominent in the scientific headlines, he recommended. Relax and enjoy our hospitality—I suggest we travel together all the way to Callisto. You won’t mind if we stop over at Europa first? It’s where all the buzz is happening lately.

Why, thanks for the offer, Admiral Raoul—sounds very interesting, responded Jefferson over the top of Rosko. I’ve always wanted to go to Europa—got plenty of friends there—excellent feedback.

Then go there you certainly shall, my good man.

Sounds great! Daniel cut in with an agreeable tone. It could be to our advantage—I was hoping to raise funds during this trip. I’m still taking donations for our good cause—Paragonia has to be rebuilt,’ he reminded the admiral. You did promise to help us procure the essential supplies to get our project moving, Admiral."

I stand by my word, Daniel, my architects are already on their way to the harbour of Paragonia, or what’s left of it—Still, there’s plenty of time to discuss these things in greater detail later, my friend.

Gretchen shared a glance with Rosko. Their smiles revealed renewed hope of spending some long awaited time alone. It’s certainly an honour, Admiral Raoul. Though I can’t help thinking that Captain Jefferson arranged this timely meeting without telling us. A lovely surprise—I can’t wait to stretch my legs around your wonderful SOOSB900, she said.

Rosko’s main concern was to keep the women out of trouble, after what Jefferson told him before they boarded the tetrahedron battleship.

Rosko felt he had to voice his concern and bring the subject out into the open. Being cautious not to offend his host, he waited for the right moment. In the interest of our women folk, Admiral, I have to insist they remain close by us at all times. Our women are highly intelligent and also highly strung beings, nonetheless, Gretchen and Vanda are feeling quite vulnerable right now. I hope you understand, Sir, he suggested.

The admiral was indignant. I may find the human reproductive process extremely fascinating but one thing I cannot fathom is the psyche of human females, Rosko—I’m sure they are a lot tougher than you give them credit for. Maybe you would like to volunteer for one of our current studies? And while we’re on the subject, he implied, pouring everyone a drink, I think you paragonmen would make for an excellent study, hah! I seem to recall that you were dubbed ‘the Studs’ among the ladies at Skadar Lake. I often wondered why—I presumed it was easy for you to get laid. So, how about it, Rosko? Now’s your chance to make it official, he singled him out and teased him with a menacing grin.

You’re not serious! Rosko protested, feeling quite uncomfortable.

Oh yes, of course I’m serious, young man. There’s one thing I do know and that is your beautiful ladies here would do anything to get you into the sack. All you have to do is simply ask one of them in the right manner, of course. By Jove, little Gretchen especially! I can see her glowing with enthusiasm already, insinuated the admiral, but in