Zein: The Homecoming

Kabel watched the sea crash onto the rocks of the picturesque Cornish retreat. Gemma snuggled into him on the coastal bench they had stumbled upon during their visit to this famous beauty spot.
Lands’ End. Only the humans could give such a finite name to such a wild and majestic place
, he thought.

He saw Tyson and Amelia laughing as they messed around in the cool autumn breeze, each trying to be the last one to touch the other in a never ending game. It was good to see Tyson with a smile on his face, not the wild, hooded-eyed angry man who threatened unimaginable acts of wanton violence on Zylar; the man who was responsible for taking his mother when he was defeated at the Battle of the Southern Palace.

As for Kabel, his thoughts were on the delicate features of his adopted sister Delilah…he missed her deeply. He hid his true feelings from the majority of people; as the newly adorned Lord Chancellor of the Earth Zein Colony he could not afford to display his wrath in the eyes of the human public and unremitting intrusion of their press hounds. No, his role was to influence, cajole and lead his people if they were ever to return home. His attention was diverted to a huge wave that built and built
as it approached the razor sharp rocks with their jewelled brooches of many limpets adorning the blackness of the ancient boulders. The wave reached a crescendo as its foaming mouth roared in and broke against the unmovable barrier, sending a fine spray high into the air. He felt Gemma cuddle into him more as the biting wind cut into them, quiet, unobtrusive, happy to have calmness and love in her life.

Amelia was venting her frustration as she attempted to catch Tyson and touch his shoulder to pass the game back to him and Tyson, using his magics, jumped up in the air and did a forward roll over her head to land behind her, wearing a wide grin on his face. Amelia spun round and stamped her foot in disapproval but she could never stay angry at her beloved for long and soon they were hugging each other, before Amelia, using her female wiles, touched his shoulder shouting ‘You’re it’, at the top of her voice before running away. Tyson chased after her, still grinning.

Kabel stared into the sky, the clouds were low and it was likely to rain but that was not what was on his mind. He ached to see Zein, endless questions always in his thoughts, how many Zeinonians still lived, how did they survive the impact of reducing stocks of zinithium and the brutal attacks of the Pod, did they still dream of the Expeditionary Force’s return after so many years? All this and more tortured his mind, day and night. He knew the burden of his role and wondered who carried that same weight of responsibility on Zein? How did he survive the endless pressure of knowing that if you made the wrong judgement call your friends, family and many lives would be at risk?

Whoever you are, I will find you and we will be one nation again, that I promise you
, Kabel vowed, aware his half-brother would pick up his thought. Tyson, who had in the meantime caught
Amelia and was playfully struggling with the protesting girl, peered over her shoulder and his eyes found Kabel’s. His eyes conveyed his agreement to Kabel but then they grew to a brilliant blue and his face twisted, only briefly, with a violence of retribution making Kabel catch his breath. In an instant it was gone, his blue eyes back to their normal hue and he continued with his game.

Kabel shuddered; his office carried many burdens but only one he could not control. Still shaken by what he had seen in Tyson he let his body and mind enjoy the experience of the scenic beauty in front of him. Zein, would have to wait for another day but soon, very soon it would be at the forefront of the life of every man, woman and child on this beautiful planet.

The shrill klaxon sounded, breaking the silence of the early morning. Tate Malacca groaned as the noise pulled him from his restless sleep.

Not again.

This was the third breach in the last week of the outer defences that protected the delicate zinithium powered Inner Perimeter Barrier. The Pod were not letting up. Rising from his makeshift, lumpy and inhospitable bunk, he rubbed his sleep filled eyes as he peered around him.

He pulled his worn boots on and picked up his two seckles which lay beside his temporary sleeping area, strapping his beloved long sword to his back and his photon blaster around his waist, both of which were well used with much action in their history. His bunk was in the main guard post that covered the entrance to the South Gate and around him others were tumbling out of their light or heavy sleeps, dependent on what nightmares they were experiencing. For the inhabitants of the Aeria Cavern, the last village city of Zein, nightmares were a common occurrence.

The door burst open, ‘Lord Malacca, there is a breach near to the North Gate,’ said the young soldier panting heavily. Tate looked at the tall freckle-faced teenager. He
couldn’t remember his name.
The soldiers were becoming younger and younger
, Tate thought. How many more men and women would they lose before there was no hope?

‘Keep calm soldier, how many Pod?’ asked Tate, keeping his voice low and even. He could not afford panic to entrench itself into his troops.

‘Lots Sir, they just said lots,’ replied the young soldier, screwing his eyes up in concentration as he tried to remember the message relayed via the antiquated intercom system.

Once they commanded the foremost technology, now they simply managed with what still worked. Their depleted mineral reserves struggled to maintain the Inner Perimeter Barrier and even their weapons had mainly regressed to seckles, old photon rifles and swords. Gone were the powerful photon shotguns and levitation tanks, the latter now standing, rusting on the surface of the planet.

Tate thought through the implications of the brief report. None of his options filled him with confidence. He knew the North Gate was not the most heavily guarded section as most of the troops were situated to the South and West Gates. It was there the community needed the greater protection due to their proximity to the larger and more accessible entrances to the Aeria Cavern.

The Aeria Cavern was the principal Zein mining settlement, which rested above the once richest seam of zinithium on the planet. In the days when the village cities on the surface prospered this was the largest permanent underground settlement that remained untouched by the winter and reflection periods. The city village was deep into the earth and four great ramp-ways were used to transport the massive mining trucks loaded with the precious ore out to the waiting villages on the surface. Each ramp-way was historically protected by four steel outer gates, North,
South, East and West, which through the decades closed during the brutal weather the winter and reflection periods brought. The Zeinonians sought the protection of this massive underground city village during these periods after collapsing the top storeys of their own city village buildings, intending them to be built back up to their previous glory at the start of the summer. Today the impressive outer steel gates were all but destroyed by neglect and carelessness, exposing the Inner Perimeter Barrier and huge internal gates to not just the remnants of the weather but also to attack. The gates were only at the four intersections to the ramp-ways as the rest of the city’s perimeter was encased in rock and an inner lining of zinithium steel.

The weak Inner Perimeter Barrier was a sporadic shield that could not be relied upon and this only covered the actual entrances and barricades. Yes, the weakness was the entrances. Lose those and the city would fall. The Aeria Cavern was their last safe haven, the difference between survival and extinction.

‘What’s your name, soldier?’

‘Bertrand Mallory, Sir, of the Blackstone clan,’ said Bertrand proudly.

I should have guessed
, Tate thought, noticing the tallness of the young man.
Is this all the once famed Blackstone clan can provide to support the perimeter; children!
He fumed silently.

The Blackstone clan kept very much to themselves now, not lifting a finger to help the other clans. They still formed the largest army after the Malacca clan but chose to remain behind their walls, mumbling their dissent. Not far behind them for intransience was the Changelings community. Always whispering, plotting and looking after their interests only.

‘Who do we have stationed there?’ said Tate, brushing away his irritation and knowing he should be able to
answer this himself. Heck he was tired. Constant fighting and lack of sleep were having a major impact on his health. He pushed this all to one side and he dragged his bruised and battered youthful body out of the guard room closely followed by the young soldier.

‘Prince Southgate, Sir,’ answered the young soldier. Tate groaned. Of course, just what he needed, that fiery fool crowing about how brave he was. He had purposely placed the remnants of the Southgate forces to the North and East Gates to keep them out of his way.

Prince Southgate was the remaining hope for the Southgate clan. After his marriage to the young Cadence Fathom, Tate had hoped that supporting dependents would curb the prince’s more excitable ways. It hadn’t. If anything, it had triggered more irrational and impulsive behaviour which his young bride still struggled with.

Cadence was the oldest surviving Fathom. Her family had been nearly wiped out during one of the first Pod attacks and just Cadence, her younger feisty sister Eva, and youngest sister, Mia, had survived. Cadence had grown up with such responsibility, looking after Eva and Mia, coupled with her sadness at the loss of her parents, that her spirit was broken and when Taio Southgate began to show interest in her, it was not long before she fell under his spell.

Tate shook his head. Cadence put up with so much from the weak and bullying attitude of the vain prince that sometimes he had to hold his own tongue for fear that he would cause a split in the Inner Council. Any split in this most important civic body and the Aeria Cavern may fall due to the warring factions not working together. He could not let that happen, his own burden resting heavily on his shoulders. Fleetingly he felt the weight of his office and then he remembered Eva and Mia, and he
felt re-energised. Cadence’s spirit might be broken, but in Eva and Mia they carried the spirit of the entire Fathom clan. The young sisters were irrepressible. No one could tame or control them, not even him. In his heart he didn’t want to, they were what Zein needed. Spirit. Fight. If Cadence represented the past horrors, it was Eva and Mia who stood for the promise in the future.

As his thoughts drifted, around him the squads on guard were rushing to the barricades. He caught some of the soldiers’ looks as they pulled on their red tunics and slung photon rifles onto their weary shoulders – women, men and children – pressganged onto the front line. Their eyes displayed the fear and resignation they felt.

For a moment despair washed over him. His mind was racked with guilt and his body ached from recent battles and old injuries.

Pull yourself together Malacca. If you let fear take over, the Zeinonians would not last a week
.

‘Sir, what are your orders?’ The calm request came from his right. It was Kron, the Captain of the Malacca clan, who had fought with his father and now his allegiance transferred to the youngest surviving male heir. The one person he could rely upon in this madness. Tate took in the eye patch on his left eye gouged out by one of the Pod and the stump of half a left arm swinging casually at his side. No, if he was the leader then Kron was the enforcer. His eyes traversed to the gleaming machete that Kron held loosely in his one good hand. How many hours did he clean and sharpen the blade each night? Tate shivered, probably too many to count. He never wanted to be on the wrong side of Kron.

Tate turned his mind to the task at hand. He could not leave the South Gate unguarded due to the risk that the Pod usually attacked this entrance as it enabled them to
mass their numbers in the large access tunnel. There were five thousand men and women guarding the South Gate with the bulk of them resting in the barracks behind the barricades that were at each side of the enormous gates, ready to support any attack or breach, the remainder walking the numerous ramparts that sat above and around the gate, enabling the defenders to shoot into any advancing enemy.

The shift change happened over a week to ensure numbers were maintained. The number guarding never fell below five thousand; they could not take the risk of a successful attack by the Pod on their main entrance.

‘Pull together five hundred of your best men Kron and some of the Tyther engineers,’ said Tate. ‘We are off to see if Prince Southgate needs reinforcements at the North Gate barricades.’

‘Prince Southgate…’ Kron spat out the name in disgust but then held his retort back after Tate gave him a warning look. He may agree with Kron in private but he couldn’t let the young soldiers around them see the disrespect. Kron, with a grimace, hurried off to pull together the force. Everything was on a knife edge of uncertainty – food, raw materials, weapons and bravery.

Within a short period of time Kron’s assembled force, climbed into a number of the gliders which connected each of the main sentry points. The doors shut with a barely perceptible whoosh and the zinithium propelled vehicles sped away clockwise, hovering over the steel encased tunnel. The journey was not a long one but sufficient for Kron to relax and remove the protective guard on his shortened arm. He flexed the muscles on his stump of an arm, sometimes he still thought he felt his non-existent fingers but then looked down at what was left of his arm below the elbow, a victim of the fangs of a fateful bite from
an enraged Pod; he survived but the Pod’s life ended shortly after. Kron looked around the glider’s cabin reviewing the team he had pulled together. The team consisted of some of the most experienced fighters, but it was becoming harder and harder as the toll of the attacks reduced their ranks. For his part he didn’t fear the Pod just saw them as the basis for his life. No Pod. No need for Kron. He had turned killing the Pod into an art form. Kron saw it as a battle of steel and guts against wild animals; to him peace was an uncertain world as he revelled in the violence and backs against the wall mentality.

The fierce looking warrior glanced across at Tate, and although his duty led him to follow the Malacca prince, what confused him was how much respect he held for the young royal. They had nothing in common; Kron’s was brought up by uncaring sadistic parents in a small outlying cottage on the extremes of civilisation, and Tate enjoyed the splendour of the Malacca Royal Palace. He shook his head as he already knew the answer to his own question… it was simple, when they found their backs to the wall, there was only one leader who stepped forward to face the threat. Tate. He could see the worries the man carried and though Kron had sympathy for this crushing responsibility on such a young man, he knew without it there would be no Zeinonians left standing. Time and time again, Tate had saved them with his calmness and leadership.

The glider began to slow down from its tremendous speed as it passed one of the key gates. Kron pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind, placed his armour back onto his stub, with the spikes that he had himself driven into the material, dully shining in the lights of the tunnel, making his apparent handicap into a fearsome weapon.

The gliders swept past the East Gate, which bristled with men and weapons from the Tyther clan. The barricades
and ramparts looked bleak and old. Tate shook his head slightly. It was just sheer guts keeping the Pod at bay.

They continued on their journey until they came to a halt at the North Gate barricades where the men climbed out. It was eerily silent outside the gate where hundreds of soldiers should have been patrolling.

What is going on!

Where were the Southgates?
Tate screamed in his head, although his face remained emotionless.

‘Sir,’ said Kron pointing to a frightened young face, barely in his teens who stood trembling in a corner near the open door of the large steel encased sentry pill-box that housed the powerful photon machine guns; each main entrance had at least two of the remaining temperamental machine guns; sometimes they worked and sometimes they jammed. It was pot luck.

‘Bloody ridiculous,’ muttered Tate as he walked purposely across to the lad. He took in the old photon rifle he held in his hands and glanced into the pill-box and saw a mixture of women and similarly aged teenage lads behind the photon machine guns which poked out of their pre-ordained slits. He then looked behind the steel barricades that rose up behind the pill-box that covered the large expanse around the gates and he saw a few hundred soldiers, but they were dwarfed by the number of teenagers and women nervously holding makeshift old blasters and shotguns.

He surmised there were five hundred soldiers in total, when the barricades and barracks should be manned by over three thousand.

Women and kids!
The stupid idiot has left women and children to guard one of the main gates. If the Pod had attacked here then…he tried to remain calm…as calm as he could. ‘Okay soldier what is the status?’ said Tate deciding that authority and leadership were required.

‘T-h-h-e Pod have a-a-ttacked the corridor between the North and West Gate b-b-barricades Sir,’ said the teenager, shaking with fear. Tate smiled warmly and placed a hand onto the boy’s shoulders.

‘You are doing an excellent job young man,’ said Tate smiling encouragingly, ‘Where did Prince Southgate go?’

‘He took the main force in the gliders to see what has happened,’ said the teenager.

Leaving one of the principal gates practically unguarded!
Tate ground his teeth together in anger.