Zein: The Homecoming (11 page)

Gemma was taking in the fresh air after the staleness of the recycled oxygen that was pumped round on-board the ship. She saw Bronstorm and Hechkle exchange jibes at each other and marvelled at how they got on when Hechkle was some number of years older than the youthful Bronstorm. She had witnessed the closeness of the two over their many adventures and was intrigued to hear more about how they met.

Bronstorm took a breather, sipping some water as Hechkle continued, his strength undiminished by the demanding work. Gemma saw her chance and casually went to stand next to him. They exchanged warm greetings. Bronstorm wiped a bead of sweat off his brow and took another swig of his water.

‘I see the big man is still going?’ said Gemma, as Hechkle launched a huge crate at three of the US Army men to catch and they struggled to hold it, cursing the big Fathom man in the process.

‘Yep, nothing tires out old Hechkle.’ Bronstorm’s pride in his voice was clearly noticeable.

‘You think highly of him, he is special to you, isn’t he?’ Bronstorm nodded and took another swig. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I think Hechkle is brilliant and we are all very fond of him, but what is your story, how did you meet? You have never said.’

Bronstorm, at first, flashed a look at Gemma and she saw protectiveness in his eyes. He then let his eyes fall to the ground as he scuffed the ground with his boots. Gemma waited patiently. Seemingly to make a decision, Bronstorm replaced the cap onto the water bottle with a loud click.

‘I was an eight year old kid and my family were travellers, not wanting to be cooped up in the Core.’ Gemma held her breath, seeing the deep feelings this story was already dragging from the young soldier’s memories. ‘There was my Mama and Pa and my older brother, Jeb, and we were close you know, really close,’ said Bronstorm, with a faraway look. Gemma let out her breath slowly not wanting to disrupt the story. ‘We sold fine clothes, beads and the like and we were in the Eastern Quadrant visiting this pretty large settlement when it was attacked by the Ilsid.’ Bronstorm’s voice carried pain and Gemma began to regret bringing the story up. ‘When they attacked we were near a well in the main plaza and Jeb told me to climb into the bucket and then he and my Pa lowered me down, before wedging the handle to keep me from going into the water.’

Gemma, seeing the tears in his eyes and now feeling guilty, placed her hand into his. Bronstorm squeezed her
hand in thanks. ‘I heard the screams of not just my family but the hundred or so other inhabitants as they were tortured, then killed,’ said Bronstorm, his voice low and pained. ‘They killed every man, woman and child in the settlement and no one died easily. They coldly wounded the men and tied them up and systematically made them watch their wives and children be cut up in every imaginable way before killing them all.’ Gemma felt sick and it was Bronstorm who squeezed her hand, realising he had gone into too much detail.

‘I must have been in the well for over two days, too petrified to move and then I heard angry voices and soon someone decided they needed some water,’ said Bronstorm. His voice grew lighter. ‘The person who winched me up was Hechkle, his face was like thunder and if I was an Ilsid warrior then I would have run away and not stopped,’ said Bronstorm, with a glimmer of a smile. ‘They wanted to give me to a family in the Core but he wouldn’t let them, he took me in, taught me how to defend myself and the big lug has been there ever since,’ said Bronstorm with much affection.

‘He is a special guy, Bronny,’ said Gemma, using her pet name for him.

‘Aye and I best get back to helping him before he kills any of these soft humans for not working hard enough,’ he said, with a snigger. Gemma smiled and gave him a quick hug before he sauntered across to work with his comrade, surrogate father.

Gemma, touched by the story, left them to it. She passed other soldiers as she walked up the ramp into the bowels of the
Elanda
who were setting out to take up their sentry duties. Bronstorm’s story had affected her in more ways than one. She had regretted her kiss with Tyson almost immediately and had only started to realise that he was
not the same Tyson she had grown up with. Something was wrong inside him and she felt that she was taking advantage of his confusion. Bronstorm’s story of loyalty and friendship had rocked her and for the first time she began to see her folly. If the friends were to retain that same loyalty she knew it was time to back off.

Chastened, Gemma sought out her quarters and waited for Kabel. When he arrived tired and spent from the day’s activities, climbing wearily into the bed, Gemma hugged him hard, taking him by surprise. Touched, he hugged her back and they drifted off to sleep holding each other tightly.

As night closed in all activity ceased and the Joint Expeditionary Force slept safe in the knowledge of the ring of steel around them. In the deep gloom they did not see the bright eyes of the watchers. The eyes flickered over the three ships, marvelling at the size and boldness of the newcomers. They saw the aliens and the returning Zeinonians. The scouts of the Pod made their mental notes and fled back to the safety of the breeding ground with a full report.

The morning came slowly for those waiting for the first exploration of this new and enticing planet. The Zein suns rose early in a splendid dawn, their pleasant glow bathing the planet in warm sunlight. Inside
Elanda
the team chosen to explore the empty city were completing their final preparations. The plan was to travel into the centre of Reinan to the principal community buildings and establish control of the area and seek information to assist the search for any survivors.

‘Sleep okay, Bronstorm?’ Amelia asked the Fathom warrior, while arranging her figure hugging Blackstone armour.

‘Not really, too excited,’ he said as he sharpened his dagger on a hand held tool.

‘What’s this, you don’t sleep anyway,’ said Hechkle, listening in. Bronstorm shrugged aside his friend’s snide remark.

‘I know you were sleeping, your snores could be heard across the barracks,’ Bronstorm retorted, good-naturedly. Heckle grunted, not rising to the bait, and disappeared to search for other weapons to take on the expedition.

Amelia turned away from Bronstorm and sought out Tyson. She found him sitting pensively on one of the
stools beside the armoured truck they would be driving into the city, seemingly lost within another dimension well away from where they were. She slipped an arm round his broad shoulders and rested her chin on one of them. ‘You were very restless last night honey?’ said Amelia, softly. She had not slept well, kept awake by Tyson’s tossing and turning. Amelia did what she could only do; she wrapped her body around him providing comfort trying to calm down his internal demons.

‘Not the best of nights,’ he replied.

‘Was it your mum again?’ Tyson didn’t answer, not wanting to talk about it. The vision had grown. He saw crying young women and his mother comforting them. He had seen a baby surrounded in darkness and the worry and despair on his mother’s face

‘Team, we need to go over our plans for the expedition,’ said Kabel, rescuing Tyson from more difficult questions. Kabel went through the approach and plan which they had already heard a dozen times. The size of the expedition was impressive.

They would be escorted by two, M1117 Armoured Security Vehicles or the ASV as popularly known. Each ASV carried an Mk Grenade launcher and M2HB Browning machine gun mounted in the turret. The ASVs were flanked by four levitation tanks, two at each end of the column. In between all this protection were the main Armoured Personnel Carriers or APCs, which were over thirty tons and could carry up to fifteen individuals each in addition to the crew. In the five APCs there would be a mixture of soldiers and civilians.

Kabel and his companions were in the first APC supported by Sean Lambert and some of Remo’s newly trained Blackstone clan troops. More Blackstone troops were in the second APC. Walter would also be accompanying them,
but Zebulon had decided to stay on-board
Elanda
. Kabel didn’t ask why. The Changeling had become withdrawn and frequently disappeared for long periods. They didn’t need him anyway, he reasoned, as the firepower the expedition had at their disposal was immense.

It was already late morning when the brief was concluded and they all piled into their respective vehicles, eager to enter the city village. The expedition waited patiently for the security perimeter to be switched off briefly at the part of the shield facing the capital. The order was given and the convoy headed out towards Reinan.

Kabel looked around him in the APC, sensing the nervousness of the group. It was not hard to notice, their faces displayed the conflict of emotions, fluctuating from fear to excitement.

General Corder had tried to block Amelia and Gemma’s involvement and neither Kabel nor Tyson could change the man’s viewpoint. Help had come from an unexpected source in the shape of Walter Moore. He had taken the general to one side and explained that Amelia was the one who could calm Tyson down if matters became out of hand and that Gemma had shown tremendous fighting qualities in the destruction of the mast in the Eastern Quadrant. General Corder had eventually relented and the two women now sat next to their respective boyfriends suited in the figure hugging blue armour of the Blackstone clan. They still smarted from the indignity of having to prove their ability to handle themselves in a fight again.

As the expedition entered the outskirts of Reinan, they peered through the slits in the APC. They passed rows and rows of white painted houses that were in complete disarray. They took in the personal possessions left lying around in the rubble and now covered by layers of dust; part of a settee teetered over the edge of a collapsed wall ready to plunge to
the street below; a child’s stuffed toy sat forlornly on a dusty kitchen table, waiting patiently for its previous exuberant owner to come skipping past and to pick it up…years had passed, yet the toy waited expectantly.

‘Whatever happened here, the population left in a hurry some time ago,’ said Kabel, to no one in particular. Tyson turned briefly to look at him and marvelled at how much the responsibility of his position had aged him, maybe not so much in looks but in weariness and worry. He shrugged his shoulders, he had his own problems, and his brother would just need to deal with his issues.

There was little noise. Outside the rumble of the vehicles and the hiss of the levitation tanks an eerie silence was loud in its pervading voice. The expedition continued on its steady but slow journey into the centre of the city.

Tyson reached out with his mind. He could not hear any thoughts outside the increasing concerns of his companions leading him to supportively squeeze Amelia’s hand, when he detected rising fear within her. She appreciated the support. The APC rocked back and forward as it chicaned between the rubble and debris strewn mosaic roads.

The roads were made of crisscross brightly coloured bricks which in their heyday would have provided a startling, inviting pathway for the citizens of the city. They could see that this had once been a tremendous city village, with plenty of colour and life which made it so sad to see it in this state.

‘Because they didn’t collapse the top half of the buildings the damage you see is probably from the winter and reflection periods. Over time this would have made all these houses uninhabitable,’ said Kabel.

‘But I thought you always collapsed the top half of the buildings before winter sets in?’ said Gemma.

‘Didn’t have time,’ said a grim looking Kabel, ‘they didn’t know what hit them.’

Eventually they turned into the central circle of the city. It was similar in size, if not shape, to China’s vast Tiananmen Square, with the central circle stretching out far and wide. Overturned carts, vehicles and stalls littered the impressive space. You could see the imposing Grand Zein Central Transportation hub and the equally impressive Royal Council standing side by side.

None of the buildings stood over two storeys high; they were, though, wide and each covered a significant acreage. They, like the surrounding residential buildings were damaged. Whatever happened meant that the buildings had also not been formally collapsed and the considerable damage displayed was wrought by the winter and reflection seasons. Parts of the roofs were ripped off, as were doors, and window shutters hung loosely, partially ripped off their hinges.

The expedition moved closer to the two principal buildings and then formed a circle, in a good old fashioned Wild West wagon defence. The soldiers in the levitation tanks and the ASVs stayed on guard; all the personnel, outside of the three soldiers driving and manning the communications in the APCs, clambered out.

It was a sizable force; a mixture of civilians, US Marines and Fathom, Malacca or Blackstone troops. They created four parties. In Kabel’s APC Group One, in addition to the usual suspects, Walter Moore and three Blackstone troopers joined them, making twelve in total. Joining them was Group Two, which contained environmental and senior scientists in a range of fields plus a further four Blackstone troops and two US Marines. They had thought to split up and enter both the buildings individually; however, Kabel decided strength in numbers made more sense.

The Royal Council was an especially impressive building, the centre piece of the community. Even in its dilapidated state it spoke of past greatness with its gold leaf intricate façade still glistening in the afternoon rays. Stone statues, of what must have been past historic figures of Zein, were situated at the corners of the imposing property, moulded into the fabric of the building. The spectacularly arched windows across both the floors held the remnants of exotic stained glass and the carved window shutters hung listlessly half off their hinges.

Kabel gulped nervously, overwhelmed by the history in front of him and his place in that story. Here was where his forefathers had agreed new laws and provided guidance to the populace across not just Reinan, but the planet. For the first time he felt the intimidating pressure of his office and the expectation of his role in the future of Zein. His nervousness subsided fast; pushing the negative thoughts to the back of his consciousness, now was not the time to have a crisis of confidence. As he issued orders, he saw Tyson watching him solemnly.

You heard every thought I just had, didn’t you?
Kabel asked, silently.

It wasn’t hard brother; just remember none of us would have come this far without your leadership. Stop doubting yourself
. Kabel welcomed the calming words. Protecting his thoughts this time, there was another first; he felt a growing closeness to his hybrid brother…maybe, just maybe there was a future in their relationship. He shook himself out of his personal thoughts and addressed the planning of the expedition conscious that the soldiers were waiting for their orders.

They would enter the Royal Council first and then the Grand Zein Central Transportation hub. The other three groups would strike out to other areas off the circle to scan and analyse the buildings for any sign of life.

Kabel sent the Blackstone troopers ahead with the two US Marines. They had their photon automatic rifles armed and aimed as they leapfrogged each other’s position seeking to establish a perimeter, with the rest of the two groups following. The troopers and marines entered the Royal Council to establish a secure forward position once the safety recon was complete; the rest of the group was called forward.

Kabel stepped through the large, thick, mahogany doors that carried significant decay, into the Royal Council and found his breath taken away. In front of him was a large room divided into different sections. At the far end was the usual council seat configuration with numerous seats facing a raised platform with a throne-like ornate chair standing tall as if it was in command of the more junior seats. The seat was adorned with beautiful carvings of Zein historical figures and wildlife.

To his left was a large office-like environment with many desks arranged in circles around a master desk. The desks still had the computerised equipment built in with piles of loose paper scattered about. To the right was what must have been a communal area where people must have eaten and conversed as they relaxed at break times or in the evening; the soft furnishings, now broken and tarnished, spread into the corners of the large building.

He saw the curved stairs to the second level and motioned for the troops to proceed up the stairs to increase the safety perimeter. He saw Walter Moore and a couple of his colleagues talk excitedly, looking at the murals on the walls and the other decorations on the ceilings.

‘Wow, look at that,’ said Gemma, her head tilted back. He followed her gaze. On the ceiling was an intricate painted ceiling that would have challenged the Sistine Chapel for its elegance. The mural depicted the history of
Zein, from the first settlements, to the Xonian Wars and latterly the conflicts with the Pod. It was breath-taking. Walter had one of his colleagues take numerous pictures of the historic developments.

They moved deeper into the building. Tyson, with Hechkle and Bronstorm made their way up one of the curved stairs. Kabel remained on the first floor. He saw great holes in the floor everywhere as if someone had ripped back the floor to get in.

Walter saw Kabel’s look, ‘Something was attempting to get in by the look of how the floor is jagged upwards. If it had been the other way around of course, then those jagged edges would be below the floor,’ said Walter, peering into one of the holes, saying what Kabel was thinking. ‘Interestingly, if you look at the steel shutters and the additional iron bars across the door,’ he pointed to the now ripped away shutters and the broken iron bars near the door, ‘here is where they were making a stand, probably the last stand, looking at the dry and dusty bloodstains,’ Walter surmised. Kabel took in the many blotches of dried blood scattered across the floor.

‘Hey, look at this.’ The shout came from Tyson who had followed the soldiers to the second level. Leaving the US Marines on guard near the door they all raced up the curved grand stairs. In front of them was a vast library, but not a library in the usual sense. There were row upon row of holograms of Zein figures, teachers, under different headings, including
Animals of Zein, Reflection, Awakening, The One Way, The Pod
and many more. The holograms stretched back far into the depths of the building. Excited, the group explored the different sections of the library.

Walter Moore settled in front of the
Reflection
hologram and the Zeinonian was speaking but he could not hear. Frustrated, he looked for a button.

‘You have to press your palm on this,’ said Kabel, pointing to a panel that stuck out with a hand print throbbing in red. ‘Once you press this you will be the only one to hear the hologram talk as your DNA is recorded.’ He looked around and addressed a few of the other scientists. ‘And if you want to hear at the same time you can touch the device here as well.’

‘How can it still have power after all these years?’ asked Walter, as he observed his fellow scientists trying other holograms. He tried to ignore the hostile looks they gave Kabel as he helped them connect.
Can’t they grow up, all he is doing is showing them how to use the damn machines
.