Invasion of the Zernoplat

By Major Roxbrough

The novel is set in the twenty-third century and is a satire that gets quite politically bigoted for the sake of amusement.

A fleet of space vessels are detected by Earths tracking stations as they enter the outer reaches of the solar system. Messages of greeting are met with silence, and after several attempts, it is presumed that they constitute an invasion force. Several world powers have nuclear capabilities, and after a meeting on a global level, it is decided to attack the ships that are growing ever nearer before they can accomplish their mission.

The strike is totally successful, and the threatened hysteria dies down.

Then a second wave of vessels, exactly as the first are detected, once again ignored every message of enquiry of intent that Earth has sent them. Further warheads are sent to destroy them with total success just as before. It seems that the vessels have no conventional weapons and are unable to defend themselves. While on Earth, looting, murder, and other crimes is rampant during the hysteria.

One man, Hakt, begins digging in his backyard to create an underground shelter. He feels certain the end of civilisation is upon them. The first few chapters deal with his experiences, especially when a third wave of craft are detected on their way to Earth. As the various powers all maintaining their nuclear arsenal is exhausted, the ships arrive unmolested. One lands in the Gambia, while the others land on the far side of the moon. A united nation squabbles over who will go to greet the lone vessel. Once the argument subsides, a deputation does indeed approach.

A gas is released from the ship, and those it lands on are dissolved to nothing more than grey residue. Not only that; the ships also bathe every conflict theatre currently undergoing war on the whole planet! The tacit aliens have brought peace to Earth, but at what cost?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Feb 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543488753

Major Roxbrough

Major Roxbrough has written several collections of short stories and novels and is beginning to release them through Xlibris publishing. He is a married man in his early sixties and has a great love for nature and animals. He currently has five cats and two dogs. He has been a prog music fan since his early teens and sites this as a source of inspiration for much of his imaginative output. When writing he draws on sources as diverse as Shakespeare, Monty Python, Blackadder, the Bible and every science fiction film and TV series ever produced. His imagination and sense of humour is warped and very dark indeed and nothing he writes should be taken too seriously. But it is fun! Try some of his work and find out for yourself. Glimpserama short stories set in the thirty third century. Remember Next Week set just after Glimpserama and sequential Axevictim two serials commenced together with further short stories Invasion of the Zernoplat A full length novel set in the same multiverse as all the other tales

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Major Roxbrough.

ISBN:                   Softcover                         978-1-5434-8876-0

                            eBook                               978-1-5434-8875-3

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 Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/06/2018

Xlibris

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CHAPTERS

1. Vacuum and Vacuous.

2. War and Peace.

3. Meetings and Debates.

4. Zernowo and Zernoan.

5. Replacement and Recruitment.

6. Production and Reproduction.

7. Attraction and Subtraction

8. Dog and Bone.

9. Zernoplat and Others

10. Tealon and Family.

11. Entry and Landing.

12. Phancini and Vanaghor

13. Negotiations and Threats

14. Paranoia and Demonstration.

15. Comfort and Joy.

16. Laura and Hardy.

17. Mission and Master

18. Liquor and Starquest

19. Tom and Jherie

20. Mind and Mined.

21. Rhohaneesta and Tezoviac

22. Norfolk and No-folk.

23. Mayassonza and Print’ulir.

24. Time and Beyond.

25. Focus and Contrast.

26. Shimmer and Crackle.

27. Hot and Cold

28. Seduction and Corruption

29. Directive and Request.

30. constriction and twisting.

31. Time and Tide.

32. Twenty-Three and Seventy-Seven

33. Gentle and Violent.

34. Hide and Seek.

35. Ghosts and Timber.

About the Author

Major Roxbrough has written several collections of short stories and novels and is beginning to release them through Xlibris publishing.

He is a married man in his early sixties and has a great love for nature and animals. He currently has five cats and three dogs.

He has been a prog music fan since his early teens and sites this as a source of inspiration for much of his imaginative output.

When writing he draws on sources as diverse as Monty Python, Blackadder, the Bible and every science fiction film and TV series ever produced.

His imagination and sense of humour is warped and very dark indeed and nothing he writes should be taken too seriously.

But it is fun!

Try some of his work and find out for yourself.

Glimpserama short stories set in the thirty third century.

Remember Next Week set just after Glimpserama and sequential

Axevictim two serials commenced together with further short stories

Invasion of the Zernoplat A full length novel set in the same multiverse as all the other tales

All available in Xlibris

Picture%202.jpg

Invasion of the Zernoplat is dedicated to my editor, Paula, without whom, earlier work would not have been possible, thank you, I love you.

Chapter 1; Vacuum and Vacuous.

The flitter-bus was crowded and the air inside it hot. Everyone was trying to see the vid positioned in the bracket which was firmly attached to the roof of the ground vehicle. On a good day when he felt flush, Hakt would have taken a taxi, but today, like everyone else he was concentrating on the news and the newest flitters the rank used, did not even have mini-vid. Of course had he taken the smaller option, the sun would have stayed firmly behind dull grey, sullen cloud. Now though, it had come out and the sky was a lovely azure and the interior of the flitter-bus was like a hothouse. Not that the huge guy next to him needed any persuasion to sweat by the smell of him. Hakt could never understand a lack of hygiene, when a bar of soap only cost a couple of sestersius. He eyed the man mountain and wished he had merely stood, but if he rose and did so now, it would be telegraphing his intent.

The noise of chatter made it difficult to hear the news announcer too, that only served to frustrate him even more. Just how obtuse was the average man on the street, when the thought of contact with an alien race was not something which filled their mind and became the topic of nearly all their conversations? Was he in a group that only contained him? He squinted at the vid and saw the celebrated professor Dato, being interviewed. He was almost glad he could not hear what he was saying. Hakt found Dato to be opinionated and something of a prig. He also suspected that the professor was a con-man, nothing more than an armchair expert who had managed to get the media to believe he was abundantly wise. Like the majority of the general public however, he was dependant upon such sensationalised reporting and conjecture, he thought back to the past few days and realised he knew very little real detail about the invasion!

It had been his decision to get off his butt and do something about it, rather than lie in front of the tri-vid and worry when the mushrooms would start sprouting. That was the reason for his trip into the metropolis, he needed supplies and certain tools which circumstance would force him to use for the first time in his life. He would be a quick study though, for he had no greater motive to learn - than survival itself.

Jumping off the crowded ground-auto with great relief he was suddenly acutely aware of the sun above, the sounds of distant traffic, the chatter of avian life and the smells of the urban scene. It was all threatened now, not everyone would act, but he would. Ten minutes later he went down to the shed, took out the shovel and started digging at the far end of his half acre garden. When that got too taxing, he would break off and take another trip to the super-mart and buy a whole heap of tinned foods, that would be almost as sweat inducing as the digging. In a disappointingly short time, his muscles screamed in discomfort at the sudden unexpected rigours he had set them. He took a shower and ate a simple hypo-waved lunch before walking down to the mart; despite the distance. It was full of panic-buyers taking just about anything off the shelves. A heaving mass of panic-stricken flesh, at last the general public, ignorant as they were, had realised that there was potential disaster in man’s encounter with a species that had the capability to traverse the enormity of space. The terrifying realm of hyper-space. In addition to the digging, he had ordered concrete ready-mix from a site on his pad. It was to be delivered soon and he rushed home just as the truck was about to pour it into his drive way in his absence. He supervised its correct position and thus the thick walls of the sub-Terran bunker were constructed in one afternoon.

The holo-vid was a marvellous source of information when it came to instruction for practicality. Thus within a couple of days he had the port-a-loo installed and even electric arcs. The generator was in two days later, then he took his flitter down to the local garage and had a full service, then he was ready for the big hide-out.

The most disconcerting thing about the alien vessels had been that they never fought back! As soon as they had been detected just inside the orbit of Callisto, the military there had been on amber alert, or whatever it was they did when an armada of ships from beyond the solar system were first spotted by electron-telescope. Then the sovereignties of Earth got themselves involved and found, not for the first time that they could argue long into the early hours. Finally unable to decide their correct strategy when dealing with the puzzle. Some nations wanted to attack the armada with space-nuclear weapons, others wished to greet the ships with friendly welcome.

It took two days to decide who was right and the ships were getting nearer to Earth every minute they debated. The majority emerged deciding upon peaceful greeting. Mars, Venus and the Moon stayed clear of the meetings, remained silent, for the arc of the vessels were pointed at the solar systems home world. Messages were sent out in all languages known to man, almost all of them no longer in universal use since English had been adopted centuries in the past as the worldwide accepted language. It had been called Standard.

The ships; silently continued on their merry way, straight toward Earth. It was at this stage that the media had started their coverage of wildly expected scenarios. Images of invasion were plastered across the world holo-vid stations. It was also the point in which the major panic started.

While Hakt was busy preparing his bunker, the rest of mankind was going to Hades. Violent crime suddenly increased at an alarming rate, rape, murder and robbery were the order of the day. It was as if mankind, thinking itself on the brink of extinction, wanted to get in all the perfidy it could before it all came to an abrupt end.

The ships came on!

The summit in London once again, was attended by every single one of the leaders of the major powers. No leaders dared to be absent. Messages were being constantly sent out to the armada and the result was a big fat zero. Nothing, silence!

The ships came on!

Reluctantly a difficult decision was reached. Those nations who had always urged the others to consider conflict swayed enough of the others to gain a majority. At least the world was united for once, united against a common enemy. They decided to draw a line in the sand; or in this case, in space, defy the aliens to cross it. After protracted debate as to the exact position of the line, it was finally hammered out in the small hours of Earth Standard Time [EST] and messages were once more sent to the ever tacit invaders. Travel within the orbit of the asteroid belt and nuclear warheads would be launched. Only Francosia, India, the German Empire and both factions of the English Empire (Saxonia and Anglond) admitted to having the necessary weaponry to realise the threat, but it would be enough.

The ships came on!

More urgent and stern messages were sent, an ultimatum couched in no uncertain terms. Stop the journey short of Earth, or the full might of the planet would be deployed against the invaders. Hakt had the concrete bunker finished by then, the port-a-loo was in and he was working on the wiring. He had taken to occasional sobbing uncontrollably, he knew what was going to happen with a certainty born of pessimistic desperation. Why would the aliens travel halfway across the galaxy, only to read a ‘Keep Out’ sign at the first star and then humbly turn tail and run? If they could create engines powerful enough to bridge the enormity of space; what would their weapons be like?

The following day the armada of alien vessels crossed inside the asteroid belt.

The Francosia immediately backed down. Perhaps, they reasoned, the aliens did not understand Standard? It was a curious stance from the only nation on Earth who had refused to adopt the language, over the centuries. In the year 3272 only Francosia on all the Earth spoke a bastardisation of French and Celtic, everyone else had adapted Standard as at least a second language with amazing ease and speed. In any event the Francosian sent their messages of warning in their own tongue as the vessels passed Mars.

Saxonia launched at precisely the time agreed and India and the German Empire hurried to support them. The Unwanted States of America did not fall in line with their eastern cousins, they were still happy to have been reinstated to the English Commonwealth and London-Saxonia, York, the capital of Anglond was keeping carefully silent.

For those that were enjoying nightfall when the explosions went off, there was a sudden bright cascade of unknown stars in the sky. So intense as to make the moon look waxy by comparison. It had taken the missiles only four hours to reach their target, but their success rate had been one hundred percent!

The fleet of unknown vessels was totally annihilated. It was all so anticlimactic, for a while. Everyone was given time off work, time to celebrate the saving of mankind. Hakt continued his preparations, he could not explain why, but he felt that the end was merely an interim, that the story would not end there. It was a monstrous thing mankind had done really.

An alien race had travelled far across the endless void of space to meet their galactic cousins, only to be destroyed when almost at their destination! Could anything be more sardonic, more pitiful?

On the holo-vid King Darren II was congratulating the joint efforts of India and the English and German Empires. Even though subsequent investigation revealed that the Indian warheads had not exploded and were travelling outward through the solar system and further still until they ran out of fuel. Even then their momentum would continue to take them through the vast vacuum that was beyond the orbit of Persephone. It was something of a military triumph for the king. The English Empire had led the planet of Earth in total world defence. The home world of mankind was not very stable at all and the various world leaders of the areas were constantly trying to score political points over the others. For a while acrimonious exchanges were forgotten by the leaders and it became the news of the day, that world peace was in their grasp.

Then……..

Three weeks after the destruction of the alien force, sensational news hit the globe once again!

A second fleet of vessels, almost exactly the same as the first, were just entering the solar system, inside the orbit of Uranus!

At first it was thought of as some cosmic joke, albeit one of blacker than black humour. The laughter soon died down however, the world’s leaders convened; this time in New Delhi.

It seemed after exhaustive talks, that some world powers had secretly been hoarding nuclear missiles with the capability to be deployed at any conceivable target!!

Now they were needed, for the nations that had destroyed the first armada had temporarily exhausted their nuclear arsenal.

Hakt was at the local mart when the news broke.

Koofing Gehenna, Hakt, can you believe it? Raxanjani asked him, his features drained of colour.

Hakt was busy puffing nervously on a Dreadnought, the med-tobacco that the discerning smoker favoured. Even then his hands were shaking and he felt the certainty of dread move in his lower abdomen.

The frenging fools, he remarked between puffs, allowing the soothing smoke to travel right down to the base of his lungs. To think, that centuries in the past mankind used to erroneously believe that smoking was harmful, how ridiculous!

They actually thought that would be the end of it.

I did, admitted Raxanjani Why, Hakt what do you know? Do you have some inside information?

Once, months past, the mart proprietor had asked Hakt what he did for a living and it had delighted him to say mysteriously, that security forbid him from telling anyone. He was actually a product-trier and a good one, but he just didn’t want Raxanjani knowing. He knew if he told him, he would be constantly bothered by the Pakistani every time it was time for stock replenishment. He could hear him now.

"Have you ‘tried’ these new biscuits, Hakt what were your recommendations? Will they sell? What’s the next line in tea cakes Hakt, do you really like the malted sort, have you tried them"?

It would make Hakt’s little trips to the mart a misery. He preferred the current set up and though Raxanjani insisted upon talking to him every time he went in, it was always a conversation he could escape once another customer arrived at the till. So he narrowed his eyes looks ludicrously to left and right; as if to suggest spies were capable of hiding in the dim interior of the shabby mart walls and said to the store-keeper,

There will be more vessels; come to see what became of the first fleet.

That’s exactly what happened, the gullible Pakistani gasped, Look at the vids the first pictures of them.

Hakt did not look at the hazy monochromatic picture of several points of light, he had seen the first lot and until the ships were closer there were no discernible features on the images at any rate. Instead, as another customer approached he said with heavy mystery,

I have to go now Raxanjani; mankind is waiting for me.

Yes of course, the other managed, I understand. Though it was clear that he did not at all and Hakt, momentarily cheered by the deception left the mart with the Dreadnoughts, that he had not even paid for.

He strolled back toward his residence, and the simple beauty of Earth caused an aching pain in his chest when he thought about invading aliens. He believed that soon the planet would be a radioactive waste, the scene of the mightiest battle the world had ever witnessed

According to the holo-vids Francosia had agreed to launch their nuclear space arsenal, if the other nations paid the bill, while South Africa, New Zealand and China came forward offering their nuclear might gratis, for the honour of saving mankind. It seemed that each of those nations had held back the first time, believing, no doubt that the first strike would be enough and they could keep what they had stored.

Once again the line was drawn.

Once again it was the belt of asteroids roughly half way between the planets Mars and Jupiter.

Once again the ships came on!

They advanced in total radio-silence just as before, neither responding to the desperate messages sent to them, nor broadcasting any of their own. It was infuriatingly frustrating. Silently they came; never acknowledging a single message, never sending the most rudimentary of signals in response.

Francosia launched once the line was reached, careful to have secured the appropriate cheques beforehand. In quick response New Zealand and South Africa followed suit. China did not launch their missiles. Their reason was simple; maybe, just maybe, enough warheads had been sent to destroy the current fleet and maybe, just maybe there would be a third armada!

The dread of that filled Hakt’s gut, like a mass of ice in his colon. He knew there would be wave after wave until some of them actually reached the planet’s surface. Of course he could not be certain, but his pessimistic nature meant he could conceive of no other workable scenario.

Four hours later the southern hemisphere was treat to a pyrotechnic display of unrivalled proportions and the second armada of alien vessels was completely destroyed!

Could the solar system now breathe a sigh of relief? Had Johnny Alien finally learned his (or her) lesson? World leaders were uncharacteristically silent. Except for the enraged Francosian, who having deposited their cheques into the bank of Zurich, discovered that the one from the government of Ireland, was more rubber than Micheeleine.

Hakt was now emulsioning the interior of his shelter in a tasteful and calming pink. He wished the hideaway to reflect the safety and comfort of the womb. He continued to refine the basement stronghold. Every piece of modern technology was placed into the bunker until it became quite cramped with all the hard-wear. Only his sleeping area remained uncluttered. The mass of fixtures and fittings served to reassure its creator however, the more items he placed in the bunker, the more it comforted him.

Five days passed and then, the world was rocked for the third time. An armada of alien vessels was on its way to Earth and had been detected just inside the orbit of Persephone! By that time the Asimovoscope was getting better at finding the invasion!

To say that the Chinese were not confident of total and permanent victory was something of an understatement, but they did indeed launch. Now that the first two waves of ships had been annihilated, the Earth was committed to the same grim outcome each time. Little point in sending a message that read;

Oh you again! Welcome or freng-off, whichever you prefer. Sorry about your dead comrades by the way; we got confused.

This time, the fact that the strike was once again successful, was no comfort at all. It was not feasible to presume the third and hopefully final wave of silent invaders had been put to the nuclear sword. Once again the southern hemisphere of Earth watched the pyrotechnic display - that was their deadly nemesis. There was no rejoicing this time, no thanks in the Jehoh Assembly (the only sect of superstition bent on surviving) churches wishing to praise that most elusive of characters, for his blessing of deliverance. A lull followed, it stretched into a second week, a third, people almost dared to believe that the crisis was over? Hakt continued in his employment during the day, as he needed the cheques. Each night though he returned to the bunker, his house almost forgotten.

Then with dreadful predictability the fourth armada of vessels were detected just inside the very boundary of the solar system. This wave was twice the size of those journeying previously. It was almost as if the aliens thought that the might of Earth had now been expended and the doubly large fleet would be able to proceed unmolested. Did they even know that other worlds and moons had been colonised by humanity. If they did they also knew that such settlements were denied the use of nuclear warheads that could detonate in space.

Speculation was rife. What did they want? Had they not perceived that destruction of three armadas meant that their welcome would be somewhat less than convivial? How could a race of beings who had managed to conquer the limitations that light placed upon interstellar travel be so blazé about keep out signs?

The pundits hit the radio and TV stations in their dozens. The most revered being Professor Dato of Minsk. He opined at considerable length while the ships got ever closer. His feeling was that the aliens were so advanced, they had little to worry about when they reached Earth and the warnings should be changed to greetings. With a, ‘sorry for the earlier mass slaughter’, he added.

Hakt thought the great mind of the Russian had cracked, mankind was committed now, committed to a war that would end in the total destruction of one side or the other. The weather was uncharacteristically mild and devoid of summer storms. Since the erosion of the ozone layer, it had become increasingly unpredictable, but ironically, just when the planet was on the brink of annihilation, it was beautifully settled.

In a final interview the famed TV presenter Svetlana Raspunsul then wished to know from the Professor, if the race currently getting ever closer were so very advanced, why had they endured such massive casualties when a simple hello would have saved them lives and material?

Perhaps, Dato had reasoned, they simply could not understand any of Earth’s languages and were willing to make sacrifices to achieve their eventual goal - in very much the same way as termites or ants? If they were also as indefatigable as insects (albeit large ones) then welcoming them would be preferable to genocide of the human race?

It was the best theory anyone could supply! World leaders convened for possibly the last time; in Oslo. All the nations were there, with the exception of Francosia and Ireland, following the declaring of war by the former against the latter, due to monies being owed.

‘Typical’, Hakt thought as he watched the news with increasing individuality, while Earth was on the brink of a permanent alteration of cataclysmic proportions, the politicians were still holding an irreverent debate.

After all the futile squabbling, most of it quite heated, it was decided by a vote, that three of the leaders would be the welcoming committee, once the aliens arrived. Of course it was not simply achieved, a series of ballots had to then be held to determine whom the three should be.

Finally the trio was decided. They were Abebé Umowayo president of Nigeria, Orjan Olander prime minister of Scandia and Sultanate Amid Khulood of Oman. The trio enjoyed several days of high profile examination and then attention swung back toward space. The ships were slowing as they passed the Moon, some of them broke away from the others, continuing on their way to Earth, while the rest disappeared around the back of Earth’s massive satellite. Urgent messages were sent to the ruling sovereigns on the moon, but they had decided a policy of non-interference and were keeping carefully neutral. Either they were going to orbit the moon, until needed, or they had landed on the dark side of it. Professor Dato seemed to favour the latter possibility. All the attention was focused on the vessels that were then entering the Earth’s atmosphere. Hakt was in his bunker watching the holo-vid, whilst also listening to the sound from his radio. As usual the radio was supplying the more detailed reports, but he also wished to see what the ships would look like and what they would do when they landed!

Chapter 2; War and Peace.

The plumbing was not something Hakt was as confident to do as the other jobs and yet is was vital for the smooth running of the bunker. He needed storage of clean water and possibly, just as importantly, proper sewerage. It would be pointless joining the drains of the bunker to those of the house, for when Armageddon came, the drains would fail anyway, so he installed a septic tank and had great difficulty with all the piping. It was a couple of days of hard work and setbacks and in between times he had to go to his place of employment and ‘try’ things.

On the third day, as a watery sun shone down on him and he ate in the garden, he heard an announcement that the successful arrival of alien vessels was imminent and rushed indoors to see the landing on the holo-vid. As he munched away at a microwave meal, the satellite pictures of the vessels coming through the atmosphere was on the station he chose, though doubtless it would be on them all.

There were ten vessels. The radio announcer told him that forty ships were behind the moon. Reinforcements perhaps?! The announcer on the radio continued, while the ships suddenly darted out of camera range. The radio reporter had a line to the tracking stations that were monitoring the aliens exact location. To everyone’s astonishment the vessels were landing on the west coast of Africa, the listeners were asked to wait while their exact location was verified. Hakt was not particularly surprised at the landing site. In science fiction stories, describing scenarios similar, the alien always landed in London, Washington or Moscow. These aliens being real, had no knowledge of the politics of humanity, they simply touched down where fate dictated.

Hazy pictures were suddenly available as the station rapidly scanned the various inputs from around the world. The announcer finally told the listening public, the crafts had all landed in the tiny strip of land known as The Gambia.

Well at least that would suit Abebé Umowayo, for it was practically his back yard. Planes would be jetting off now from Oman and Sweden, to rendezvous with the president of Nigeria. To make the point even more defined, the aliens had not even managed to find Banjul, but touched down instead in the area north of Mansa Konko. Ironically the name translated as, ‘The Hill of Kings’, of course it was near the Gambia River, all towns in the Gambia were, for the smallest country of Africa was little more than two banks that lay at the heart of Senegal. The last English bastion surrounded by Francosian territory.

Of course:- once the vessels were down the pictures grew sharper, but after twenty minutes of gazing at the blank side of one ship, Hakt grew bored and went back up to the surface of his garden. As the bunker was below ground level, it had not made such an impact upon his back yard as he had imagined. Merely a huge section of lawn was now a slab of concrete and even that was green, which he had ordered expecting it to blend better for the colour.

He smoked a couple of Dreadnoughts; pineapple flavoured, his favourite, then decided to go for a stroll. There would be nothing worth watching for a few hours while the English tried to organise the Gambian militia. The newly formed Global Cabinet would delay as well, no doubt they were locked in lively debate at that very moment. The roads out of town and toward the countryside were not surprisingly, quiet. Hakt loved the peace of solitude. It was such a shame that the stillness would soon be rocked by conflict on a world wide scale.

Hakts peace was rudely shattered when a voice cried out behind him,

Hakt you old dog, what are you doing wandering around when the rest of the world is glued to the holo-vids?

He turned at the rude greeting and saw his old buddy from his army days. Scat Maddison had done his national service with Hakt, but unlike the former, had joined as a private and ended his three years as a private.

That’s Sergeant Hakt to you trooper, Hakt laughed, Maddison, you don’t look a day older.

It was a lie, as the two men shook hands, Hakt saw that Maddison had gone grey in the intervening years. His skin had sagged and taken on an unhealthy pallor and he was thicker around the middle. Hakt had kept himself in shape, it was vital for his job, but he would have anyway. Being a Negro in middle England, he constantly fought for self-esteem.

Are you living around here? he asked his white friend.

Maddison nodded to the house at the end of the lane the Sergeant had just passed, Bought the cottage with some of my demob money, I’ve been there ever since.

Nice, Hakt smiled, even though he had no idea what the interior would be like, I often wondered who had taken the old place. I’m up on the new estate, it’s comfortable but it doesn’t have the character of your cottage.

Or the damp, or the rats, Maddison laughed, Hey, come and have a coffee and we can catch up, what’re you doing now anyway?

Do you mean apart from waiting for the invasion? Hakt could not resist, though he fell in step with his old buddy.

I know, fantastic isn’t it?

They walked up the lane and Maddison took him around the back of the property, The front door sticks this time of year, he explained, Sticks like a bugger, but I won’t shave any of ’cos it fits just right in the winter.

Hakt nodded his approval, but in truth he could not have cared less. He was not really interested in Maddison and had not got on that well with him in the forces, especially when he had been promoted. Like most people Maddison seemed to glamorise the past. He had a coffee and sat smoking but didn’t offer one to the Private. Despite their health benefits med-cigs were still an expensive luxury. He was quite relieved when the cottage owner put an e-cig in his mouth and puffed the vapour into the tiny kitchen, the fumes smelled like cherry, but he could not be certain.

So what are you doing with yourself nowadays? he asked Maddison, not that he cared, but he didn’t want the meeting to become awkwardly silent.

I went in with my brother Bobby, we’re doing rewires, you remember Bobby, always the one with electrical items and such, he was in the engineers.

Hakt nodded, but he could not bring the mentioned man to mind, How’s his beard coming on? he asked, which was a safe bet as beards were the height of fashion. Maddison laughed,

Thin and straggly, like it always was. He seemed pleased Hakt had remembered, although the truth was the opposite. And you Sarge, what are you up to?

I’m a trier, Hakt admitted, wondering what the response would be. He hoped it would be positive, he was one of the best in the business.

Maddison looked suitably impressed, A trier wow, good for you Sarge, wanna tell me what the next line in fashion will be? He was dressed in shell suit bottoms and a zipped fleece top, the colours were black and gold.

You’re wearing very trendy gear right now, Hakt admitted, I can’t see shell suit leggings going out of style any time soon, they are comfortable and durable, warmer than bohos too. I’ve just endorsed a new line in next years colour.

Maddison looked expectant, but Hakt suddenly switched topics, Not that we’ll see next year, the way things are going.

The sol-web thinks we’ll have the Zernoplat eating out of our hands within a month, the Private told him.

Zernoplat?

One of those intellectual fleet street journo’s are calling the aliens that, seems to have been taken up by the other news-sites too.

Well whatever they are called, they won’t be defeated by us, Hakt promised, Any race of beings that can traverse the enormity of space aren’t going to have cap guns in their arsenal.

And yet we’ve whipped them more than once, how do you figure that Sarge?

Hakt’s dark brow creased in frustration, That’s something that’s been foxing me since the first wave was destroyed, he admitted, Be certain of one thing Maddison, the world has not defeated the aliens. Call them what you will, they will conquer us and it’s going to get messy.

Well you always did have a better grasp of events than me. Anyway come and see the cottage.

Hakt took the tour and made the right noises and then took his leave. His meeting with Maddison had illustrated what he already suspected, mankind was not ready for an invasion, they were prepared to stick their head in the sand and hoped all would end well. He was still certain that there would be a global, possibly stellar war and the aliens meant mankind harm, otherwise they would have answered the early greetings. He only felt relaxed when he was once more below ground in the safety of his bunker. For the next twenty-seven hours there was nothing to report!

Satellite photographs showed that the ten vessels remained in their location, with no sign of movement of any kind. The three elected representatives of the whole world congregated at Dakar, from which, the Senegali forces, under English and German supervision, headed for the ships. Still no movement of any sort from the aliens. By the time the trio from Nigeria, Sweden and Oman arrived at Mansa Konko, every major holo-vid company had cameras there. Hakt turned off the radio, for once he wanted to see what transpired.

He wondered briefly which of the three dignitaries would be the one to approach the landed ships and speak the first words. He could imagine the politicians arguing endlessly over the very subject. It was one thing that never changed, even when Earth annihilation was a genuine possibility, politicians found time to debate. It had even been rumoured that some of the queens of Venus had requested to be present to greet the aliens, but Mars, Callisto and the Moon continued to keep well out of it.

The armed forces flanking him and with planes overhead and artillery at his rear, President Umowayo had obviously swayed the greatest majority, for it was he who began to walk toward the alien ship. The other nine were mysteriously still orbiting Earth. He would address the vessel in Standard, it seemed. The flash-pads of the world press were lighting him up with uncomfortable brilliance when picking up the microphone the address system squealing in readiness. He spoke,

"Visitors from space, I am the representative of the whole globe’s nations. On behalf of the human race of Earth, it is my honour to welcome you and ask you to come out of your vessel and meet us. We regret that some of your ships were accidentally destroyed by our planet’s automatic defence systems and assure you we only wish to meet you and to form this world’s first inter-planetary alliance".

The silence which followed was deafening in its intensity. Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. There seemed to be some discussion between Umowayo and Khulood, who then took the Nigerians place and made the same speech in Arabic. The move was nonsensical, for even the Arab nations of the world no longer spoke the tongue.

The lack of result was the same. In desperation Prime Minister Olander then gave the vessels the Swedish version followed by a high ranking officer in charge of the troops. He addressed the vessels in Standard and French. Hakt muttered to himself,

They don’t want to speak to you. Why don’t you just wait until something happens from their side? It looked as if that was what indeed was going to happen, when, to everyone’s utter astonishment, the Nigerian president started walking closer to the ships. Several troops hurriedly scampered after him, needle-rifles at the ready. Not that the needles would have been able to do any damage to the vessels, for they were twenty-four metres in height and standing on three supporting legs, each of which must have been another twelve. What Umowayo thought he could achieve by walking to the base of one of those magnificent pylons was anyone’s guess. Although a lift would have fit quite snugly inside one.

Then; finally something happened!

At the base of the leg that the Nigerian president was standing beside, a panel some 0.3 metre square suddenly slid to one side. Hundreds of shoulder-pads zoomed in toward that square aperture, it was the brightest place on Earth as flash-pads from a myriad of single lens illuminated the shallow interior. Inside was a small nozzle about the same size as a garden-hose sprinkler termination.

Hakt was willing the men near the nozzle to run, he was crying out with all his energy at the holo-vid, but they did nothing!

A puff of mustard-coloured gas suddenly billowed from the nozzle, quickly dispersing on the breeze and certainly surrounding those close to the leg of the ship. Hakt could see them coughing then. He watched along with billions of other viewers, as the soldiers and Umowayo began to double up in paroxysms of hacking gasps. The colour however, seemed to drain from them, rather than be heightened by their discomfort.

The ten or so began to change colour! They seemed to fade from brown to an unhealthy looking grey. As Hakt watched in fascinated horror, the men began to dissolve, they tottered and fell, taking on the appearance of gruel. Their uniforms and Umowayo’s suit collapsed as the grey porridge-like mass ran into the ground and soaked away. Before the announcer of the station that Hakt was receiving could say anything, the percussion guns started. Howitzers firing 152 millimetre exploding shells turned the vessel and the surrounding area into ruptured burning metal and dust. The announcer cried over the top of the terrific noise,

It seems we were right in the first place, when we destroyed the three armada’s, Johnny Alien does not want to make friends. He has just needlessly murdered president Abebé Umowayo and several Senegali troops. Well the response was swift and the response was deadly. If that’s the way the aliens want to play it, then world forces are all on a state of readiness. They will have to send more than a single ship if they want to give mankind a bloody nose.

Hakt could not believe the scene flashing on his tube. The alien ship was a burning mass of twisted metal.

Why did it not have weapons more powerful than a bit of dissolving gas?

What was it all about?

He watched the aftermath and analysis, Earth’s satellites used laser weapons on the other vessels that were in orbit, though there was no sound in space the other ships were cut to pieces and only those sheltered by the far side of the moon were then left of the armada.

Hakt seated before the holo-vid watched in grim fascination until he was exhausted and crawled into the bunker’s cot.

Several experts professed to understand the alien’s actions, but the theories became more and more fanciful the longer the programme went on. Awaking eight hours later, after two sleeping pills, he flicked on the vid while eating his bowl of bran. Professor Dato was once more being consulted by Svetlana Raspunsul.

We have seen the alien response to peaceful approach now, he said, The late President Umowayo was presenting no threat to the ships, he had offered an explanation as to why the other vessels had been destroyed, but the aliens had no inclination to investigate this. Their response was conflictive and also seriously fatal.

But why gas, Professor? Svetlana wished to know, Why gas just a small number and then present nothing in defence to shell fire?

The enemy evidentially had no other defence, or it would surely have used it. Remember we do not know the physiognomy of the invaders, perhaps their structure has leant them toward the construction of chemical weapons alone. They may have very advanced research in the field of genetics, whilst neglecting more conventional forms of conflict. Or the reason may be tactical.

Tactical, Svetlana echoed, In what way Professor.

Dato leaned in closer to the camera, a device he used when wishing to impart particularly important data,

Chemical weapons only attack living organisms, or some, only specific living organisms, perhaps the aliens don’t wish to damage our property, but just dissolve us and then move into the resultant real estate.

Svetlana tried to reason that revelation, But they are no match for our conventional weapons Professor, how can they hope to defeat us?

We don’t know how much gas they have for one, as for the other point, we don’t know how many ships they have, they may have the capacity to endure millions of casualties and still keep coming. Spraying more and more of the dissolving gas they used yesterday.

There has been a mass of requests for people to phase-door to alternative realities, Professor, do you think that might prove to the ultimate fate of humanity in reality 1?

It’s too soon to say, the professor hedged his bets, But even if alternative realities can be found in time, why should we just pack up and leave?

Svetlana’s smile was a trifle glassy as she wound up the interview, Well what we do know everyone, is that Johnny Alien got a damn good thrashing yesterday and might think twice before having another go at good old planet Earth.

Hakt switched off the tube and decided to go for a walk. There was no danger at the moment and he might as well get all the exercise he could, while he still had the opportunity. He walked into town and stopped before the newsagents. On a plaque outside on the pavement, the various broad-pads were describing the events of the day before. Of them all the Solar caused Hakt to grimace most with its headline, which was typically jingoistic, it read,

Earth 4 Zernoplat 0.

He wondered how long the copywriter had spent dreaming that one up. One thing was certain though, it had cemented the aliens identity, from then on the journalists would call the invaders, Zernoplat. It was not a pleasing nomen, but it served its purpose.

He found himself standing in the unnaturally quiet morning. The birds were particularly noticeable. For them life was going on much the same, they had nothing to worry about. He found himself envying them their ignorance. A small breeze was gently tugging at his hair, he could smell the fragrance of spring flowers conveyed by it. It became a poignant moment. There was not another soul about.

Just to make human contact he went into the shop and bought a pack of Dreadnoughts. The man behind the counter was a little weasel of a fellow, whom Hakt had never seen before. With the news of the ‘invasion’ that wasn’t, he was even more timid and more detestable. Hakt noticed how his moustache twitched as he took the sestersius and dropped them in a till. Some people still used archaic money instead of thumb and Hakt preferred the tactile quality of doing so.

He could not resist noting,

Shillin won’t be worth saving once the mushrooms start sprouting.

The weasel scurried back into his parlour through a plastic strip barrier that would never be a door. Hakt knew he was still watching him, making certain he didn’t sneak off with any cigs. He tucked the pack into a pocket and left the pitiful establishment. If that was the representative of humanity then roll on the Zernoplat. They couldn’t make more of a mess of the world than mankind had done. Earth had been the garden of Eden, while humanity was the pests that slowly ate it away, until it was dying under the weight of its own filth. The animals were being squeezed into smaller and smaller reserves, many species were sadly extinct and rumour had it that even the plankton were less plentiful. Meanwhile the world laboured under the weight of human flesh. Even with active depopulation around the turn of each century, even with the phleege, there were still seven billion of them.

Perhaps, he thought, it was time someone or something else took the controls for a while. He had always fancied it would be the ants or the termites; now he suspected it would be creatures who had not even originated from Terra firma.

Just like the rest of humanity Hakt found the next few days to be anticlimactic. The war between Francosia and Ireland accelerated, but from the vessels obscured by the moon there was no sign. The public became so blasé that they actually started finding the Ireland/Francosian war interesting. Troops had landed on the western coast of Scotland, backed by Unwanted States of American/Irish money and materials and Kilmarnock was taken in two days.

The Francosians asked for World and Anglish backing, but both were immobilising their forces in readiness for the next invader landing. A three day battle at the edge of and finally in the heart of Glasgow, proved to be a blood bath and Ireland was once again victorious.

The public found the entire spectacle distracting, but did not actually care. Hakt knew that folks were only concerned about anything when it actually involved them in person. Irish tanks rumbled down the M73 and onward down the M8 and finally began the siege of Edinburgh. Once again the Francosians asked for first Anglish and then Saxonian aid. The Duke of London and the Prime Minister of York were unavailable for comment and everyone knew the monarchy and politicians had no real power over senior officers of the armed forces anyway.

During this period Hakt installed a short-wave radio and antenna. He could actually pick up the communication that the Irish/Unwanted States of American forces were sending to one another, but this palled after a couple of hours too. He knew that the invader thread would interest him much more and for good reason, but it had become like the phoney war of Mars a few years past and he was forced to simply let time run down to its beginning

He painted every area of the bunker and was almost pleased with the eventual result, but the triumph of his engineering accomplishment had a curious after-taste, the tang of foreboding.

Then it began again!

It was in spectacular fashion and in a form that no one could have anticipated. From behind the moon, a single ship emerged and flew rapidly toward Earth entering its atmosphere. After what was obviously some orientation, flew straight toward Scotland. More specifically straight toward Edinburgh!

The Francosian were currently in no shape to launch jets into the air, being too busy with the Irish fighter planes that were also over the city. All that anyone could do, or would do was watch and receive reports from various tracking stations around the globe. Fylindale was the tracker Hakt was getting his information from. The invader simply flew over Edinburgh. A single pass and then, obviously having learned from past experience, sped back out of the atmosphere and back to behind the moon. What it had done however, was discharge a jet of the mustard coloured gas previously used in the Gambia, rather like a huge crop-spraying plane.

The result was identical to that achieved by the gas when used against the late President of Nigeria. Troops of both sides and the civilian population of Edinburgh fell to the ground where they stood and dissolved away like grey gruel.

It had the effect of halting the conflict in one swift and decisive move. The Irish forces and the Francosian defenders were eliminated with equal prejudice. The alarming thing, if that was not bad enough, was that the civilians were dissolved in exactly the same way. The gas was admirably specific, it targeted humans and humans alone. Dogs, cats, other pets, fish in the river, insects, nothing was harmed. Buildings and other property was also left in tact, the only thing the gas dissolved was people. What right had the aliens to mercilessly slay Irish and Francosian with similar severity when they were busy wanting to slay one another in their own way?

The aliens were guilty of the worst possible crime; interfering in human affairs!

The new-global parliament met in Oslo again. Hakt watched in ill-concealed mirth as a scuffle broke out between the Irish Prime Minister and the Francosian Supreme Laird of France, Scotland and the Shetland and Hebrides. Both had somehow managed to reach the meeting due to the necessity of giving their valuable input regarding both the war and the meddling of the aliens in it. Before it was over and the two had been separated, the Prime Minister had suffered a bruised set of knuckles, while the Laird had suffered a broken nose. It took several minutes for the hullabaloo to die down, during which the constant flash of pads ensured that the nose in question would decorate the top boards of the sites the following day.

The meeting finally came to order (or as much order as politicians can usually manage) jointly chaired by the Swedish prime minister and Sultanate of Oman. There was little they could do. The aliens were currently out of the way and all space missiles globally had been expended (with the exception of those hidden by Samofijitong), even if they were presenting the Earth with a target anyway. The Moon still refused to get involved and left the dark side where it belonged - in the dark.

The Zernoplat did not seem to wish to communicate and the combined intelligences of the C.O.M.B. (constabulary operational metropolitan bureau), D.E.E.(Deutsch Erkennung Exekutive) and K.G.B (komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti) possessed the sum total of detail known about them, it was zero! After a lengthy meeting which was forced to endure the recess, while the Irish Prime Minister had his hand bandaged, it subsequently continued on into the small hours. It was decided that there was only one conceivable outcome to the Edinburgh Crisis.

Earth declared war against the Zernoplat!

It seemed that if mankind wanted to kill one another, as the Irish and Francosian had wanted to, it was no business of beings from another star system. With Umowayo dissolved, the ballot for a replacement to make the Chair a triumvirate was taken, resulting in the appointment of Ignacio Lutu, General of the Republic of Uruguay. The aliens may have superior weaponry, for which man had currently no defence, but they could not stop the awesome machine that was global politics. The term Zernoplat was now officially acknowledged and the war against them was more official than the most official thing that anyone could conceive.

Hakt was wryly amused by the decision to wage war against an obviously superior enemy. Not only that but as far as he was concerned the aliens had only defended themselves on the first meeting with man and stopped needless slaughter in the second instance. Granted that the ‘cure’ had been drastic and dramatically worse than the malady, but no one could argue against its effectiveness.

In the next few days three other wars currently simmering on planet Earth had agreed to a ceasefire. The most startling thing about this was that one of them was the Egypt/Israeli war! Jews had hurriedly sat down at the table with Arabs and agreed an immediate cessation of hostilities. The other two conflicts were more localised skirmishes. One being the Falklands Second Crisis between the English Empire and Argentina. The Argentinians had quickly withdrawn from the island. The other was the Korean War. North and South Korea agreeing a ceasefire until they could conduct their war in peace(!) without alien interference. In short, what mankind had desired for centuries, the Zernoplat had achieved overnight. It simply would not do!

Oslo was once more abuzz with the intellectual musing of politicians. The Irish Prime Minister (P.M.) had recovered and his hand was no longer bandaged. He demanded some sort of action against the Zernoplat. The considered reply being,

What, when conventional weapons and annihilations of armadas did not seem to deter them?

To this the Irish P.M. asked for trade embargoes; it was time to show the aliens that planet Earth would not stand for interference from other star systems. What the other politicians thought to this severe step was to refuse point blank. If the Zernoplat wished to buy Terran goods they were entitled to do so at a fair price, provided they stopped stopping wars. It was one thing to declare war on a customer, but quite another to shut up shop.

The trouble was, no-one knew what the Zernoplat did, or did not want? It was decided to launch a vessel to orbit the moon and once more try to communicate. This decision - only after the Moon had been contacted and hugely profitable offers made to entice them to side with Earth and be the first to approach the far side of their own world.

Chapter 3; Meetings and Debates.

There had been a great and protracted debate as to which nationalities would comprise the crew of mankind’s most hopeful launch into local space. The vessel, Rama VII was to be supplied by Pakistan.

That did not automatically mean that the captain should be Pakistani though. It took two days for the heated debate to be resolved and finally the crew was named and ready to board the Rama VII. The crew would be Captained by Daniel ‘Buck’ Rogers from Pennsylvania, Eastern Alliance of America (E.A.A.), which had split from U.S.A. (Unwanted States of America) around the time the American countries had been allowed by the English Empire to once more join together. His control operator would be Lieutenant Lars ‘the Van’ Svan (Scandia), while the final member would be a woman one Lieutenant Maria Gonzales of Uruguay. It was noted by certain cynics that being on the triumvirate of the chair had its advantages.

Launch date came around and went decidedly smoothly, the mission control team of Karachi performing admirably, despite the fact that none of their countrymen or women had made the crew. This was an international effort, one that fostered cooperation between nations and an example to all, particularly Ireland, Francosia and Israel. In the last few days those three nations had become alarmingly isolationist, equally disappointed at the cessation of hostilities, although it could be pointed out that Francosia should have been grateful to the Zernoplat, for they had stopped the Irish/Francosian War before many more Scots had been given a damn good thrashing.

Hakt stayed in front of his holo-vid for as much time as he could. He smoked too many med-cigs, but they had been conclusively proven to cause no ill effects since the turn of the last century and sales had rocketed as a result. Most preferred the particularly healthy non-tipped zero tar versions and the menthols had been forced into liquidation. Work was something of an annoyance, but he needed the money to fund his shelter and anyway life seemed to have returned to normal over the past few days.

He was a brilliant Trier; or so he told his colleagues repeatedly. Of course he was hated by his fellow workers for that reason, the star in any firm was always despised by peers and loved by supervision. No one could try a product like Hakt. If he tried it and said he liked it, then it always proved a great seller. He had been the first to try shell suit pants, a garment that had for some inexplicable reason disappeared into obscurity in the middle of the ancient centuries. It had always been championed in Liverpool but failed to catch the imagination of the buying public in the rest of Anglond. In Saxonia it had never achieved popularity. When Hakt had tried them on and liked them, declaring them ‘comfortable and stylish’, production had gone ahead and the new fashion sensation had swept through Anglond London, and even Cymru and Snowdonia. Then came the really massive boost to sales when the President of the Unwanted States had worn them in the triangular Office in Hot Springs, Arkansas. There were several other instances where Hakt’s skills had taken the world by storm, including, the umbrella (went down a wow in China and Seattle). Snufz, which had resulted in the legal distribution of it worldwide. Most notably, though, following his visit to the new Euthanasia Clinic in Hamburg, giving it his total approval, the chance for millions who desired to exit with dignity, the chance to realise their departure from the veil of tears. He tried a few things on while the Rama VII sped on its way to the dark side of the Moon, but his heart was not in it and he found he could not endorse much at all.

Although the laser moustache trimmer was something which he did enthuse about and was a necessary item of male toiletry following the banning of men being allowed to shave their heads and faces around the turn of the century. Sometimes Hakt almost wished he lived in Norfolk, the only place in the world where shaving was still allowed. There again Norfolk had always been the outcast in the counties of the English Empire. It was believed that as the Mayer of Norfolk was a woman, it was the sole reason for allowing it. Especially after her speech in which she confessed to ‘only liking a