Empire of the Green Sun

By George H. Y. Watson

The Krell 'Empire Of The Green Sun' had spread throughout the galaxy for hundreds of years and needed a constant supply of soldier-slaves to fuel its expansion.
The latest discovery of a planet full of the most suitable creatures, promised much.

ScoutKaptain Drec of the heavy scoutship ‘Emperor Buntar IV’ looked at the greenish planet below.
It was mostly covered in water but inhabited by the most ruthless and bloodthirsty, semi-civilised beings they had yet encountered!
He was ecstatic as he envisioned the rewards for finding Earth and the Humans!
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: ENG
• Release date: Aug 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463453476

Book preview

George H. Y. Watson

Empire Of The Green Sun

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Table of contents

THE SILVER SHIP

THE OVERSEER

THE OWC’s RETURN

KROMA

ONLY A MAN

Thank You.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR.

Dear Reader,

There exist no definitive records pertaining to the race called the Krells, nor indeed to the location of their home planet Krella Prime. All the information that we, the Trills of the Epsilon Gas Worlds, possess comes from a few tattered copies of something called ‘The Encyclopaedia Krellania’ found amongst the ancient ruins on an insignificant planet at the end of the third spiral arm. After much deliberation over the strange alien concepts therein, I have managed to glean the following segments of information from those ancient tomes so that you may be informed and entertained as you float amongst the methane clouds of Home Planet.

Yours truly, Scribe Dekker 3345.

THE SILVER SHIP

In The Dream he had looked down upon the Plain of Krella and beheld The Silver Ship, a thing of such great beauty that it took his breath away. Made of a strange silvery metal it was surely a new creation of the Makers that the Church despised so much! The Ship had four great wings that held up its pointed body into the green sky and he had loved the machine more than he had loved anything in his life, but didn't understand why.

The nearby city was dark and devoid of any signs of life except the lights blazing from the Cathedral of the Church of the Everlasting Universe. Suddenly, he could discern movement in the dark streets and a dark tide of black-robed creatures flowed onto the plain towards The Silver Ship. Soon he could hear their ignorant fundamentalist screaming and see the steel bars and torches they carried. Quickly the craft was surrounded and fires lit whilst hundreds of the creatures did what damage they could with the primitive weapons they had brought.

A cheer arose as one of the beautiful wings crumpled and the Spaceship began to topple. The black tide began to recede but not quickly enough. The silver body burst when it struck the ground and liquid fire leapt amongst the dark creatures burning many. Others managed to escape screaming back into the gloom laden city where the young civilisation would now be stillborn having lost its beautiful silver future.

Young Buntar, seventeen years of age and once a foundling at the doors of the Cathedral of The Church of the Everlasting Universe, woke up in the Helpers Dormitory, drenched in sweat and trembling when The Dream had reached its awful conclusion.

The Dream came now every night to haunt him as he recovered from the beating that the Deacons had given him three weeks ago.

Faintly in the distance, he could hear the kitchen Almsman limping along the cold passageways towards him calling other helpers to work. Eventually the old man would pass nearby and Buntar would follow the long line of other Helpers down into the depths of the enormous stone building that comprised the Cathedral Barracks, then into the kitchens where he would begin his day of toil for His Esteemed Yellowness, The High Deacon.

When Buntar entered the kitchens the Chief Cook and Under Cooks were already hard at work and had the large cooking pots filled with slowly bubbling porridges of many colours and types. Nearby were stacks of bowls ready for Buntar and the others to carry out to the hundreds of Acolytes of the Church. The table-hands were the lowest of the low in the hierarchy of the Church and the Chief Cook Algar was quick to abuse them, Buntar, you lazy green-skinned ork! Move yer backside an' start sloppin!

Buntar sighed, but not too loudly. Algar was also quick with his fists as were all the cooks. Bowls were 'slopped' meaning they were filled and when a tray full of bowls was ready, Algar screamed at Buntar again, Get shiftin', Greenie!

Buntar and the other Helpers worked their way by the side of the long tables where several hundred Acolytes sat and chattered waiting for their breakfast. Over the last few years their numbers had soared as the Church insinuated itself into the lives of the populace who in turn were obliged to give alms to support these non-productive leeches. At least that was the way Buntar saw it. He had listened to enough of them over the years and he had come to despise them and all their doings; they were nothing but charlatans and this 'Church of the Everlasting Universe' was nothing but a device to enrich His Esteemed Yellowness the High Deacon! As he put the bowls down in front of the Acolytes, some sniggered and made fun of his green skin.

Ignorant, He thought, all of them.

The High Deacon would take his place in a few moments to partake of the porridge and pretend he was living the life of abstinence with his underlings.

Another lie, thought Buntar.

In those ancient times the occupants of the planet Krella (Epsilon Eridani B5 to you Earthies) had an average height of a little less than two meters. Of humanoid form, their natural skin-colouring was a bright yellow, with the lesser orders enjoying a sun-diminished pale yellow. Unlike humans, no bodily hair was evident and their heads were covered with short yellow snake-like fronds. Large eyes were mounted over a delicate nose and a lipless mouth filled with lots of sharp canine teeth.

It was Buntar's misfortune to have a dark-green tinge to his skin and up until the unfortunate incident with the Deacon, he had been as normally coloured as the rest.

Late on that fateful day Buntar had been about the passageways on the menial task of washing the floor, unnoticed and ignored by all who passed by. After all, a mere foundling living on the charity of the Church, he would never be educated or trained for anything else.

He had seen the Moneylenders arrive and not for the first time they slipped in to the sumptuous accommodation