Alien Backlash Read online

  Alien Backlash

  Maxine Millar

  Copyright © 2016 Maxine Millar

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

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  Maxine Millar’s books are complete in themselves but will be more enjoyable and in better context if read in order and since they are written in alphabetical order…

  Niseyen Galaxy Series

  Alien Alliance

  (Alien Alliance: Stolen)

  Alien Backlash

  Alien Checkmate*

  Alien Deception+

  *To be Published late 2016

  +To be Published early 2017

  The survivors of the war on the planet of Torroxell faced a multitude of problems including injuries, domestic animals urgently needing farmers, a yukky diet, hostile Alien prisoners that outnumbered them, looting or starving Alien survivors, and a mixture of six Races with six agendas. Add exhaustion, incoming Niseyen with a vastly different culture, and an approaching attack fleet from the Keulfyd with revenge in mind because the virus had spread beyond Torroxell. The weaponized virus they ‘found’ on Torroxell and used in self defense which was devastating the Keulfyd. The Terrans copped some of the blame. It wasn’t all the Terrans’ fault. Mostly not.

  Somehow, Sarah MacDonald has to prepare for another possible war and co-ordinate six Races: one that often won’t talk to her; one that has never fought; one that is infiltrated and badly compromised; one that is hiding a lot from her; and one that is medical not military. And her own Race consists mostly of often traumatized refugees from a disaster-torn Earth.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Index of Characters

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Sarah MacDonald watched as the vast spaceship lifted off, silently, vertically. Heading for another, developed, Human world, unknown, unseen, unknown of, until now. Petislay. The cold, third planet of the Niseyen, their newest, in the process of being developed and settled. The Niseyen, originally Human, who were kidnapped from Earth thousands of years ago and enslaved until they finally overthrew the Kaldalei, their masters. The rock paintings and other depictions of Ancient Aliens on Earth were true, or at least some of them were.

  This was a highly illegal flight (if one bothered about such technicalities) and Sarah wondered how the Niseyen brothers Az and Kaz were feeling about it since they had been designated the acting pilots/captains. They faced a few little problems such as no instruction manual, unreadable gauges which meant they had no idea how much was in the fuel tank — and they hadn’t found the waste tanks yet. Whatever. She imagined Az and Kaz would be grinning from ear to ear. They had no training, registration, qualifications or licenses, and insufficient knowledge to fly the vast spaceship which would make a cruise liner look like a frigate. Yet they had to; they had to get help.

  Sarah yawned, she felt beyond exhaustion. She wondered if she would ever get used to the 28 1/2-hour day of this planet, Torroxell. Or the long night. And how long were the seasons? And how many? She sighed. Just one of the many things they had yet to think to ask. There was so much to do and it all needed to be done yesterday, or a month ago.

  So much had happened so fast once the war was over. Her head felt stuffed full of priorities. And to think she’d occasionally found it stressful managing SETI on Earth. Now she was running a world.

  Yesterday two ships had gone back to Terra, one in a kind of tow, to tell the world about the Niseyen. To tell the world there were now four Human planets plus one shaky, depopulated, war-torn Treaty planet — this one. But there were now four planets where Humans could go to settle from the teeming, overcrowded masses on Earth. Maybe. If the Niseyen wanted them on their three planets.

  She wondered how this news would be received. What would Mathew, Jolene, and Steve do about the now-enslaved Niseyen among their crew? Niseyen, captured on Oberterk at the unfortunate and unexpected conclusion of a war where the Nashi had attacked the Zeobani, who were the rightful owners and hard-working developers of the planet Oberterk. And when the Nashi couldn’t win they cheated, by entering into an Alliance with the Keulfyd. Breaking the rules of war. Amazing that there were Rules of War, she thought, but the problem was the powerful didn’t seem to think the rules applied to them. Typical!

  The Niseyen, once war criminals and now slaves, those now flying the two ships to Earth, had agreed to the monstrous crime of flying the gas ships of the Keulfyd in return for their lives. The gas ships were part of the fleet that had annihilated the Terrestrial population of Torroxell and all its fauna that had been in range. Those Niseyen had helped murder ninety million civilians of varying Races in order to allow some greedy Keulfyd to make a profit.

  Would these Niseyen be trustworthy? Jolene had reasoned that such people would do anything to stay alive but would be somewhat short on martyrdom as they had already demonstrated. Were Az and Kaz right when they said the now enslaved crew would get the ships to Terra in return for the promise of being dumped on a Niseyen world, their identity and crime secret?

  Sarah shook her head. That was their problem. Hers was this war-ravaged planet and its pitifully small population of Terrestrial survivors. At least she now had extra Okme, medical specialists rescued from slavery on the Keulfyd starships. The survivors of twenty-nine Healing Centers plus their Machines and staff. Unfortunately, most of these Machines had been sabotaged by their owners. Martyrdom was the definite goal of all of the Okme it seemed! Pitifully grateful, they had promptly volunteered to work in the totally overwhelmed hospital once they were informed by Helkmid how bad the problem was. They were pathetically relieved to be rescued and freed. There were now three Okme centers running, with twenty-four Healing Machines going and they were all needed. Especially for the Cats.

  The Cats, no-holds-barred fighters, had suffered horrific injuries. Helkmid told Sarah they were almost all young males who had disobeyed their leaders’ orders not to fight. They also made rather difficult patients. Sarah smiled, thinking of what Bert had told her. They had a poor attitude to doctor’s instructions, hated medication, especially via needles, were allergic to antibiotics and some pain killers, and CATegorically refused to
use the local equivalent of bedpans. She chuckled, remembering the reaction Bert had gotten when he had suggested CATheters.

  Given their large size, their average weight of 330 pounds of irritable, ungrateful Cat with a bad attitude, getting them to a toilet was difficult even with the anti-grav lifts. They still had to be steadied and balanced. It was just as well that most of them got to walking-wounded standard fairly quickly and got their ungrateful asses off to the loo themselves.

  The cat joke award had gone to Anne who had said that, “Catering to Caterwauling, Catastrophizing Cats was a Catalogue of Cataclysmic proportions.” Sarah wandered into the mess hall to find someone had laid out some food packets. Add water and stir. Yuk: tasteless stuff, like eating flour paste. She suddenly had the flash of an idea. Batter for fish, fritters, donuts! It might work. At least it would taste and look better. She found her pad and pen and wrote herself yet another note. As she sat there eating her tasteless meal, others straggled in. The place looked empty. Full, it would seat a hundred or so, many more if there was standing room only. The tables were varying sizes to cope with varying sized occupants. Papa bear, momma bear, and baby bear. The kids fitted baby bear. So did some of the adults — which rather put us in our place in this galaxy, Sarah thought wryly.

  Anne sat down beside her, slowly and carefully to reduce the pain. In her hand was a notebook. “I’m trying to keep track of everyone,” she said. “Mathew, Steve, and Jolene have gone back to Earth.”

  “What about Con? He was itching to write the story of what happened here.” Con was the only surviving journalist and was expecting a massive scoop. “Why didn’t he go back? Was he too injured? I did wonder at the wisdom of him travelling so long without a doctor.”

  “He decided we couldn’t do without him. I suspect Bert had a word with him. He says he can write the story from here, he’s already started, and he’s hoping to find someone who can transmit it to the ship. He’s going to send a copy to Petislay and the other Niseyen worlds and copyright it.”

  Sarah smiled, relieved. “He’s right. We need him. He’s so useful and such a handyman. He’s recovering quickly, too. Did I hear right? About seven months before we get any help from Earth?”

  “Yes, but we can expect help sooner from Petislay. The round trip is about four months plus maybe a month to convince them to come. Five months. If they come.” They looked at each other. “There are five hundred survivors in one city alone who could overcome us and take the planet. How do we rescue them and stay safe?”

  “Anne, I’m amazed at how many have elected to stay here on Torroxell. It’s a telling opinion on the chances of survival on Torroxell versus Terra. Those with children here have all stayed. That, for me, has been an eye-opener. But sorry, I’m interrupting. What did you want to tell me?”

  Anne consulted her notebook. “Az, Kaz, Stella, Li, Donny, Dan, Kelly, Helene, Simone and Dieter plus I think five Zeobani have gone to Petislay. That leaves us here with about sixteen fit adults, four traumatized Zeobani, several walking wounded Terrans whose brains still go, and a lot of kids. The Okme are still concentrated on looking after the sick, most of whom are now uncooperative ungrateful Cats.” They both chuckled.

  Anne continued, “I think we need to keep using the kids although it doesn’t seem fair to them. Mahmoud has taken his job of Survivors Coordinator to heart. He has already organized the Cats to find the survivors and report back. Harsha, Bella, and Bea are his deputies, he says, and are passing on his orders.” They both laughed. Mahmoud had spent lengthy periods of his short life babysitting his two younger sisters while his parents worked long hours. He was very good at it. But one of his problems was that he was unable to speak to the telepathic Cats. To his disgust, both his little sisters could. Which was why they were now his deputies. Bea was added because she and Bella were inseparable and Bea’s parents were busy with search and rescue.

  “Mahmoud has been told by Az to look for Zeobani and Niseyen for a start. We should find more pilots among them. Mahmoud has decided to delegate the Cats to prioritize who needs help first and work it out between themselves. They weren’t really interested in the job but via Bella they got a huge lecture on humanitarianism from Mahmoud. He really ticked the Cats off. Then when they were still smarting about that insult he stormed off to see the Priskya and so Pickdaa ticked the Cats off too. Talked about peeved Cats. They do peeved so well.” They both laughed.

  Something else was nagging Sarah. “Didn’t Nanelle go to Petislay as well?”

  “I can’t remember,” confessed Anne.

  Sarah abruptly stood up. “I’ve had it. There’s so much to do and I’m so tired I can’t think. Roll call in the morning at nine. I’m off to bed.”

  Anne looked after her in sympathy. The job would be overwhelming for a normal person but if anyone could co-ordinate this huge mess it would be Sarah. She had taken over SETI (Search for Terrestrial Intelligence) and pulled it out of the despair and decline it was in. Within five years it was out of debt, forging ahead and recruiting. Sarah knew how to pick good people and delegate properly. Many managers never learnt that, as Anne well knew. Sarah delegated by ability and left people alone to get the job done their way. She normally had boundless energy, enough to put most twenty-year-olds to shame.

  Anne yawned. Her old, tired and battered body needed a lot of rest these days. Still, she was lucky to have survived. Well, the Healing Machines of the Okme certainly helped. Julia had thought her injuries were not survivable and, given she was unconscious, had left her and gone back to the fight. At least she had lived. Anne still found it hard to believe that Minka and Tasha had died and Simone and Tue were left so badly injured.

  The main problem here was the urgency. Like Sarah, Anne felt they did not have the resources to get the job done. People — well, mostly Aliens — all over the planet were starving, dying, suffering, in despair, and some had suicided. Yet others were looting and vandalizing. Those ones had to be stopped. The Cats would enjoy that part. They liked the idea of payback. But what to do about the secret sentience of the Cats? And their telepathy, Anne pondered. So many knew now. It was so dangerous in this galaxy to be telepathic. The attitude of those who weren’t telepathic towards those that were was appalling. Telepathy was feared, exaggerated, demonized, and considered dangerous. Which put the Cats, Terrans, and Priskya at terrible risk if this was found out. Yet how could it be kept secret? It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. To be telepathic was an enormous disadvantage to the Cats: because of it, they had not bothered to develop writing. Illiteracy hampers education to an extent understood only by teachers and the illiterate. It vastly reduces the knowledge that can be passed on from generation to generation, the accumulated knowledge that a civilization builds on. Anne thought of all the remedial teaching she had done of illiterate children and how restricted they were. After she retired, she had missed teaching and taken up teaching English as a second language with the ready market of Auckland’s huge immigrant population.

  The Cats seemed to have a vague idea of what they were missing but they seemed to be lazy. Telepathy was so easy but it had consequences. The Cats, according to Helkmid, had a very limited verbal capacity. Therefore, he said, they could not use Translators. It followed that they could not use computers. All their symbolic reasoning and communication was telepathic. Their vocalizing was largely the emotional component. Yet puzzlingly, Anne had discovered they understood the use of computers surprisingly well. They also understood how scanners worked and therefore how to hide from them. This knowledge had saved millions of them plus a few Terrans. They were very intelligent. Anne wondered just how intelligent they were. Like Humans who are illiterate, she presumed they had very good, well-trained memories. They were a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, as the old saying went. Anne wondered how their secret could be protected.

  It was surprising that the Cats had decided they wanted to be included in the Treaty. Actually, it was astonishing. Maybe they were going to try to be recogniz
ed and hide their telepathy. The decision was theirs. Life was so complicated sometimes, Anne thought. This was yet another urgent priority: they needed to find out what the Cats wanted. Anne was tired but her mind was racing. Sleep was impossible. She went back to her notebook and started to go over her plans again.

  Some time later, getting painfully to her feet, she looked around for something she could use as a message board and something larger to write with. Nothing! She finally left a message written on her precious paper and left it by the sink: “Meeting, Tomorrow morning, 9 a.m. Everyone to be here. Tell everyone.” Then she slowly and carefully went off to bed.

  She briefly thought about going to get some painkillers from Bert but the pain was pretty minimal, especially considering the injuries she had suffered in the war. It was lucky it was a glancing shot she had taken. A full shot to the chest would have killed her but the Relog had missed and just got the side of her chest with gouged-out muscle and burns resulting to her chest, abdomen, one arm and both legs. Or had he missed? Kaz had told her that blasters were used when the intention was to disable, not kill. So she could be interrogated? Maybe the Relog hadn’t missed. He/she/it had certainly succeeded in disabling her.

  This pronoun business was a mess, Anne considered. He and she were often irrelevant here and unknown, sometimes unknowable. They were going to have to do something about that. Pondering, she remembered a book she had read years ago. A book written by Ursula K. le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness. The word “kei” was used to denote she, he or unknown. Now that was a thought. Belatedly, she realized it was likely the Niseyen had already thought of that one. She decided to ask someone tomorrow.

  A few hours earlier, as she trudged up the dark ramp to her apartment, a solar light in her hand, Sarah had wondered about the wisdom of living twelve stories up but it had such a fabulous view. Plus a compulsory exercise routine when the power was out again, as it was now. She had chosen a large one-bedroom apartment at the end of a wide corridor, with views to the sea to the south and the hills to the north. The doors, which slid back into the walls, were ten feet high and six feet wide. All the rooms were large. Best of all, being the penthouse, it had a large balcony which was really an avian landing pad. Small problem, however, of no balustrades so Akira had designed one and a group of them had fitted some clear plastic-like sheets and made it safe. Then Ludmilla and Bert experimented and added more plastic sheets to make transparent sides and a roof to her balcony and then to theirs as well, so now they both had conservatories with breathtaking views. Bert and Ludmilla had also chosen penthouses at the other ends of corridors on the same floor of the same building. Rank hath its privileges, they said.