A warm welcome to all my readers once again.  First a quick update on my latest novel – “The Irish Ripper”.  3,600 words written to date.  Slow but constant progress being made.  I’m finding this one easier to write so far and I’m hopeful that I will have it completed within a year.  There will be plenty of violence, sex and intrigue.

A quick reminder that my other novels are currently for sale on the Amazon website.  Just search under my name – “Mark Ahern”

Now for my thoughts on this week –

It was with horror that I heard on facebook about a wheelchair user in Dublin being unable to get a wheelchair taxi late at night and ultimately being forced to drive home in her wheelchair.  This is 2018!  Her health and safety was jeopardized.

This has been an issue in Dublin for far too long and if it can’t be solved there, what hope the rest of the country.  Not much seems to have improved since I went to college there almost 20 years ago.  Vantastic still closes up shop for instance, when it could continue through the night and transform the social lives of wheelchair users in particular.  It is a farce.

In other news the government have made it easier to hold onto your medical card if a person with a disability takes up employment.  It was always an obvious thing to do but at least they finally did something.

Sometimes you just wish you could grab people and scream – things need to happen so much faster.  Peoples lives are being wasted by inaction.

On a happier note, the organization I’m involved with “Independent People with Disabilities” are co-hosting an event tomorrow the 3rd December 2018 about sport/recreation and people with disabilities and the older person.  It starts at 11am in the Mullingar Park Hotel.  All welcome.

One really cool bit of news I did hear during the week on a totally different subject is about American and Russian plans to set up lunar colonies.  It would be a huge advance for humans.  In just two or three decades time there could be someone on the moon looking up at the earth with wonder.

Well readers, that’s it for now.

It won’t be long now till my thirties are in my rear view mirror, well if I had one – June 2019 to be precise.  I remember when I was younger it was inconceivable for me to reach such an age but I guess I better start getting used to the idea now!

It is a strange experience though.  For most people they slow down as they age and are no longer able to do things they used to.  But the technology I rely on is constantly improving.  For instance, the wheelchair I have now is able to go at least twice as far as the one I had ten years ago.  I no longer have to constantly check my power gauge to see if I’m going to run out of power.

It’s also faster so I have to wait for people rather than the other way round.  In may ways life has never been so good and may get better still.  Imagine how far I’ll be able to go in my eighties.  Maybe walking is an evolutionary dead end!

Of course there are some drawbacks – my thinning hair and my touch of grey facial hair.  But maybe that will just help me get promoted.  After all life has always been good for bald, old white guys.

But this approaching birthday does remind me of my mortality or at least, the need to download my consciousness onto the web for quasi everlasting life lol

At least with each passing year I learn new things, like just today I learned that I could add new pages to my blog, rather than having just one extemely long page.  I’m so intelligent.  Not sure if it’s of much use though.

So what are my plans for the rest of my life, your probably not wondering but I’ll tell you anyway.  It’s quite simple – I’m going to take over the world…

 

(Don’t forget my books are for sale on Amazon)

Life with a disability is hard.  The greater your disability, the more difficult it becomes.  In my head I often view it like a soccer league with no promotion/relegation.  You are stuck in the division you were born in.  Unless of course you acquire an injury.

In the Premier League you have people like myself with very severe physical disability and then you have the able bodied in Division 3 and the non leagues.  Life is much easier for them in theory or in my little head lol

But what would I say to my younger self or a younger person with a severe physical disability?

A) Embrace aids and technology.  This might seem like a misnomer.  Like hopefully you are at least driving around on an electric wheelchair.  But I remember how it irritated me, when I first seen a hoist or it was suggested that I use an electric bed.  I felt I was becoming less “normal” and more distant from everybody else.  I’m not sure if the average person with a disability feels this way but I suspect that that they do.

I was wrong.  Each new device has given me extra freedom and made my life easier.  These are things that should be embraced, if needed.

B)  Nobody is perfect and everybody has problems.  See this is where my analogy totally breaks down.  That league is just a self-delusional myth.  Maybe that pretty girl is desparately lonely and would love to talk to you.  Perhaps the greatest issue you have is psychological.  You really are just another human being, not more or less special than anybody else.

C)  Education.  You need skills you can sell.  Studying and getting results are important.  You will not be able to become a brick layer.  This may be true for everybody with the advance of robots.

D)  Housing.  If there is social housing in your country, apply as early as you can.  This will give you options in the future.

On a more practical level, if you must drink and drive your wheelchair always minimize the risks on your journey back.  Otherwise you run the risk of losing a few teeth.

So I’m back again.  Turns out I wasn’t that committed to going dry for November but hey, this is my blog.  I can be committed to some things hopefully.

So the interesting news today is that the world tfr (total fertility rate) has declined from 4.7 in 1950 to 2.4 today.  This is due to people having better things to do, like watching Netflix.  The news as usual though starts getting a bit confused when it comes to statistics saying the replacement level for humanity is 2.05.  Guess they must have studied the humanities.

Of course this is total nonsense.  In general there are 105 boys born for every 100 girls (who have the babies).  This means a replacement level of 2.1 before any girls die.  In some countries 10% of under 5s die.  The world may already be at replacement level.  Of course as people are living longer and the young mean age of the world, the world population will continue to grow for some time.

Rant over.

Just finished writing the prologue to my next novel “The Irish Ripper”.  I decided a more brutal start would help get the pacing right.  Really enjoyed writing it.  Not sure what that says about me lol

Just as well I can write a bit of gore.  There’s going to be plenty.

Not much other news for now.  Don’t be afraid to comment.  I might even reply.

 

It is now the time of year I hate most – winter.  The cold and dark nights is just not amiable to my lifestyle in a wheelchair.  No matter how hard you try,  you get very cold if you stay outside for any reasonable period of time.

To add to my misery I decided to give up alcohol for the month of November.  So far I’ve made three days.  This is not something I’m telling many people about as I probably won’t last the week.  In which case, it’s good I have so few readers.

All of which is good for my novel writing as I’ll have more time to write.   I have just completed the first 1,000 words of my latest project – “The Irish Ripper”.  Hopefully I’ll have it completed by this time next year.

It will be a major change for me.  This work will be about a gruesome serial killer and the efforts to catch him; expect horror, sex and violence.

Had two book sales during the week, which reminded me to get back to the top of my game.

“Not the Usual Suspect” continues to be well received but I reckon “Paradigm” will become more popular in time.

As my readers can probably tell I’m not an avid blog writer but I’ll try to improve.

The Trip to Belfast

The rest of the week passed in a blur.  All I could think about was the coming Saturday.  Even the thought of alcohol after hours of tedious lectures couldn’t break me from my slumber.  Instead I stayed in my room sometimes studying but often just staring at the wall. Occasionally one of my PA’s or my flatmate Lucy would come in to see if I was alright.  It was unusual for anyone to spend so much time studying at the start of the year let alone me.

 

But I knew that I was doing the right thing even if it was by default – saving my money and making sure I was in good health for when I met this Jimmy guy.  I had to be in top shape and ready for the unknown.  Eventually the week passed and I found myself nervously trying to sleep the night before I was due to leave.  I thought about all the events that led to this point; my beautiful sister Karen whose vitality had been so cruelly and violently extinguished; then my first meeting with the dissidents on the grounds of the college as we came to our understanding.

 

It did not prove conducive to a good night’s sleep and I felt restless and tired the next morning.  But I tried to think positively, it would be all over in a day or two.

 

I anxiously watched television waiting to Jimmy to arrive; flicking through the channels hoping to find something at least mildly interesting to take my mind off things.  But there was nothing.  Then I could hear the house doorbell ring.  Although expected, it felt sudden and my heart seemed to skip a few beats as I heard footsteps moving towards the door.  I would have driven out in the wheelchair only the sitting room door was closed.

 

Then the front door opened and I could hear my father and Jimmy exchange pleasantries in the distance.  I tried to reclaim my composure remembering I had to act like I knew him well.  Then the sound of talking stopped and I began to wonder what had happened.  A few minutes passed before I heard something in the distance.  Within a few seconds they both entered the sitting room with Jimmy greeting me in a thick Dublin accent which I now recognized as being more specifically from North Dublin.  He was wearing a dark black jumper with jean looking worryingly nothing like a student.

 

“Hows things Alano? – Are you ready to go?  Your father was just showing me the set up for the van and your hoist.  Those are some fine ramps you have,” Jimmy said in a thick Dublin accent.

 

I smiled trying to maintain the false pretence and said I was really looking forward to the trip.  My father then interjected to ask Jimmy which roads he was going to take and double checked that he had the correct insurance.  Jimmy reassured him that he knew the roads well and there wouldn’t be any problems.  We then headed out to the van where I drove up the long ramps and got clamped into the van.  With that we said goodbye to my father and we were on our way.

 

After going a short distance Jimmy stopped the act and began to speak more candidly.  Still he couldn’t seem to shake his positive attitude; he used to be a PA for people with disabilities so looking after me wouldn’t be a problem.  He couldn’t understand how I ended up as his partner on the mission but everything would be fine.

 

Then in what must have been a break in the code of omerta he said they must be hanging something over me too.  That I was far from a classic IRA operative; from a good background not even considering my disability.

 

But I said nothing in reply.  It could all too easily be a ploy to test me.  So, I simply replied to get on with it; neither confirming nor denying his thoughts.  It was best to be an enigma. Then I asked matter of fact what time we would arrive at our target; I would not be easily fooled.

 

He replied that he didn’t know; that we had orders to take a detour.  The Chief Commander wished to discuss the mission with us first.  Not exactly what I wanted to hear but there was no point complaining.  I had never felt such sadness to see Mullingar fade into the background.  Soon we were driving along through narrow windy roads and through villages I didn’t recognize.

 

Fortunately Jimmy liked the CD that was in the van so that helped to pass the time.  I could feel myself warming towards him but tried to fight it.  He was not the kind of person I wanted to like.

 

After about forty minutes of driving we pulled into a house with a farmyard.  This wouldn’t be good for my wheelchair I thought to myself.  We drove to the rear of the premises and Jimmy immediately got out of the van to open the rear door of the van and put down the ramps.  As he began to take the clamps off the wheelchair I could hear the sound of footsteps in the distance which then came to an abrupt halt.

 

I then reversed out of the van with Jimmy’s guidance hoping all the time that one of the ramps wouldn’t slip to be met by three men in typical IRA regalia wearing military uniforms with balaclavas. There were no hugs or warm embrace.  Jimmy and one of the men immediately headed off leaving me with two of the men.  After a few minutes I asked where we were but they just completely ignored me.  An age seemed to pass before they returned with Jimmy carrying a brown bag.  They finished talking as they approached me.  But even in the distance I recognized the thick Ulster accent of the other guy.  It was the same man I met in the car park in UCD to arrange the hit.

 

Jimmy said it was time to go and as I drove back up the ramp the other three men left.  With a big smile Jimmy told me that they wanted to put a device in my wheelchair but that he had just about convinced them it was a bad idea.  All I could say was a very relieved “thanks”.

 

“What’s in the bag?” I inquired meekly.

 

“You know what’s in the bag!  Don’t play the innocent with me,” he replied giddily, “I’ve just heard all about you.  You’re a right dark horse.”

 

Then he affectionately patted me on the side of the face and said it was time to go.

 

It would take another two hours for us to reach our destination.  I had wondered if we would encounter difficulties trying to cross the border but there was no checkpoint.  The only noticeable change was that the Irish language no longer appeared on any of the signs and the speed limits were in miles per hour rather than kilometres. Then the Union Jacks and Tricolours appeared. It was as if buildings and pavements were themselves nationalist or unionist.  Every square inch was fought over.

 

The landscape itself was very beautiful.   I found myself captivated by hills and valleys, it was just a pity about the people.  I wondered how many people had died fighting over each hill down the centuries.

 

It was a relief to finally reach Belfast as I was tiring of the journey and needed the bathroom.  It was a sunny day and the beautiful red brick buildings that I guessed were from Victorian times were a sight to behold.  There was evidence of the conflict everywhere with flags on most of the buildings.  Suddenly I became conscious of the van’s southern registration and wondered what the likelihood of coming under attack would be if we stopped on the wrong street.

 

Finally we reached our destination right in the centre of Belfast.  It was a large modern looking hotel with a packed car-park to the front.  Jimmy cursing under his breath grew increasingly frustrated trying to find a wheelchair parking spot and joked; it would be no harm to blow the place up.

 

Then as we neared the front entrance and without hesitation, he got out of the van shouted that he would be back in a minute.  So much for not drawing attention to ourselves I thought to myself.  After a few nervous minutes he replied that they had a wheelchair parking spot behind the hotel.

 

At this point I didn’t care where we went so long as I got to a bathroom fast.  Another few minutes later I was de-clamped, and out of the van, finally able to feel the sun upon my face.

 

Jimmy shouted that he had already got our keys and so we headed to our rooms.  There was a lift just inside the door and we headed to the third floor and after quite a long walk through what seemed a maze of narrow corridors we reached our destination.

 

I immediately felt a sense of relief when we reached the room which was spacious which would help with the hoist and that the beds had legs for the hoist to go under.  Jimmy switched on the television for me before returning downstairs to get my hoist and the device.  I flicked through the channels using the remote but there was nothing interesting on.

 

When he returned I no longer had any fear of the device.  It was just about getting into the hoist and onto a toilet.  Fortunately, Jimmy knew what he was doing and I only had to give him some guidance with which hooks of the sling to use; then finally relief.

The Debt

 

It felt good to return to return to UCD for Second Year of my Bachelor of Commerce Degree, anything to take my mind off the summer’s events.  It is the largest university in Ireland with approximately eighteen thousand students.  During the day there is a constant flow of activity and at night The Student Bar is the place to be.

 

Just like my first year I would live in a ground floor apartment on campus with fellow student Lucy and Personal Assistants.  It is close to the centre of everything which makes my college life that much easier.  The only drawback is that almost all the rest of the student accommodation is inaccessible.

 

Lectures provided an opportunity to exercise my mind without feeling a cold sweat pour over me.  The Student Bar was once more in full swing with queues forming before lunch hour to get in.  Just the way I liked it.  My friends were  thrilled to see me if a little amused that I had made it this far after spending so much time in the pub.

 

Casey gave me a big hug when he saw me.  It was the second night back and I was reacquainting myself with my favourite table and my beloved vodka.  The music was pulsating through the bar and the large crowd were in vibrant form.

 

At times shouting into my ear as people barged past he told me about him summer.  He had spent it in Lyons in France teaching English and had become besotted with a French girl.  He had told her that he would return but now looking forlorn was doubtful he would.  He never asked about my summer; perhaps wanting to distance himself from events.

 

The party atmosphere continued throughout the night.

 

Fortunately fewer hours of lectures were scheduled than my first year at the university.  There would be plenty of time for recreational activities between lectures which would probably consist of drinking tea and watching daytime TV for me.  I had different subjects than last year; but being a Commerce student; there was nothing, not related to business or which I felt could give me a sleepless night.

 

Economics was always a subject which made total sense to me and business organization couldn’t possibly be arduous.  Hopefully accounting wouldn’t be too boring this year.

 

But a shadow constantly lingered over me.

 

Just a week before I started back, the mission had been outlined to me.  It was a bomb plot to murder the British Prime Minister.  Originally there was a different target but this was apparently too good of an opportunity to let pass.  He was to give a key speech about the peace process in two months at the Langton hotel near Belfast city centre.  One month from now I would be attending a disability related conference at the same hotel where my co-conspirator would plant the bomb.

 

All I was told was that there was a republic sympathizer involved in an organization called People with Disabilities in Northern Ireland (PDNI) who would ensure I would be invited and that suitable accommodation was booked.  I would be accompanied by another IRA agent who would both seemingly look after my needs and plant the bomb while I was there.

 

“Where?”  “Why?” and “How?” is a summation of my parents’ thoughts regarding my forthcoming trip to Belfast.  Telling the truth that I was on an IRA mission was totally out of the question so instead I told them that I needed time to get over Karen’s death; that a trip away would be cathartic for me, that I needed to spend some time away from everything, where people didn’t know my name or what I’d been through.  When they started to accept that the questions about who I was going with started.

 

These were far more difficult to answer.  I was only meeting my “handler” every two weeks at best, sometimes beside a bench in the town park in Mullingar and other times in the Arts Centre on campus.  He gave little information away stressing that people had to be protected.  He had seemingly been assigned to me by central command and had a long terrorist history.  Shabbily dressed with a long white beard and ever present blue cap he liked to remind me endlessly that I should be honoured to get a chance to serve my country. That the British had been oppressing the Irish for over eight hundred years and it was now time for them to leave.

 

He suggested telling them that I was going with “Jimmy”; a mature student.  The rest of the details were to be kept as vague as possibly lest they were to guess for instance that “Jimmy” had no idea where UCD even was.  This was not very reassuring.  Pointing out that I needed someone who understood how to use a hoist and could drive the family’s accessible van drew a quizzical look before looking away and saying it would all be sorted.

 

Eventually he told me that my accomplice would be a masquerading as a mature student who had some previous experience helping people with disabilities.  Whether he actually had any experience helping someone with a disability was seemingly another thing entirely but the leadership were confident I could direct him appropriately, something which reassured me little. The date of the conference was now fast approaching.

 

Two weeks later I got the call.  My Dad called out my name to tell me that “Jimmy” was looking for me on the phone.  I nervously drove into the kitchen to take the call.  My Dad had to had to hold the telephone to my ear which made me worry he might hear something he shouldn’t.

 

The first thing I noticed about Jimmy was his thick Dublin accent.  It was unexpected as I thought it would be a Northerner but nevertheless the sense of familiarity made me more comfortable.  The conversation was short and snappy.  He would be calling at 10 am the following Saturday and driving me up to the conference.   We would be staying for two nights; he had used a hoist before and there was nothing to worry about.  In response I just responded that was fine and I would see him then.

 

That ended the conversation and I nodded to my father that he could put down the phone which led to him looking at me a bit bewildered.  Seizing the initiative, I then informed of my plans for the following week.

 

He was concerned but then said he hoped everything would go smoothly.  That it would be good for me to get some time away from things.   It made me feel sick to lie to those closest to me.

Yes that’s the title of what I’m thinking for my latest novel.  It will be far darker than what I’ve previously written.  But then my own life is not going swimmingly.  It will be with relish that I have the opportunity to enter a truly black world.

So the main character or dare I say “hero” in a normal novel will be a contemptuous, vile character who becomes paralyzed in a night of passion with a police colleague.

It is the villain that truly excites me.  He will be based on a mixture of the “Golden State Killer ” and “Jack the Ripper”.

I intend the finished product to be my homage to “Silence of the Lambs”.  It was a true work of terror that I saw on television but never read.  I did read the sequel “Hannibal”.

These works greatly increased my appreciation of the literary arts and it is something I want to emulate and perhaps surpass.

There will by necessity be depictions of extreme violence of all kinds.  Yes I am looking forward to it.

Regular readers will be kept occassionaly updated on progress.

 

 

The Horror

 

It was the serenity I had loved; the silence.  That is except for some branches gently shaking in the wind.  It was only a short distance from the house and used to be a secret refuge.  But now the thought of going there would terrify me. I needed noise to drown out my thoughts.  The shame and guilt for what I had done.  My parents had never intended to raise a monster but that is what had happened.

 

There was simply nowhere else to go.  My parents were anxious for me to spend some time outside perhaps so they could escape my foul mood.  As if theirs was any better; they barely spoke to me or anyone else any more.  Now the sound of women crying out for their loved ones from the rubble, images of the missing limbs and faces covered in blood permeated my mind.  Surely there are things that can never be forgiven and I must have crossed that point just about an hour ago.

 

It was never supposed to be like this.  All I wanted was revenge against my sister’s murderer.  Surely after what he had done to her, it was what any decent brother would have done.  But with a crippling condition since birth called Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita revenge was to be had by an invisible hand.  The condition caused by multiple joint contractures left me wheelchair bound with only limited use of my hands.  It was a friend from college who first put me in contact with a faction of the IRA that rejected peace.   Blinded by hatred I cared little for the consequences of the alliance I had entered into.

 

It was only when I tasted my revenge that my thoughts turned to the North.   The Good Friday Agreement had been signed in May which promised a historic lasting peace in Northern Ireland.  Both sides had grown weary of a bloody but low level conflict that had led to the deaths of over three thousand people over twenty years.   On the one side you had moderate nationalists, Republicans including the IRA and the Irish Government; on the other unionists, loyalists including terrorist organisations such as the UVF and the British Government.

 

There were minorities on both sides which opposed the peace deal.  But its most deadly opponents were dissidents from the IRA.  To them there could never be a peace deal while Ireland remained divided into two different artificial state-lets and British soldiers remained on the island of Ireland.  They saw their comrades as sell outs who had betrayed their country.  The struggle had already lasted centuries; there was no end in sight for them.

 

These were the people I had become indebted too and I had become an instrument of their destruction.  I had never really thought about it before but planting a bomb and then scurrying away really was a cowardly act.  At least television would give me some indication of my heinous crime; I deserved to be punished.

 

It was now approaching dinner time so I turned the wheelchair back on and began trundling the short journey home.  The skies were slowly turning grey as I drove horizontal to the front door and knocked on it three times.  My father struggling to smile opened the door and welcomed me in telling me the dinner was ready.

 

My mother was already sitting at the table ready to help feed me.  Their lives had been shaken to the core by Karen’s death but recently I could feel they were trying to move forward with their lives.  The Gardai had told them that the case had been effectively closed as the primary suspect was himself dead.  They were sure he was the perpetrator and to try to take at least some solace from what had happened even if it was not ideal.

 

It was a typical setting for an Irish dinner with beans, potatoes and pork to eat with the television in the corner of the kitchen.  My father went to turn on the news as he always did.  It would only be seconds now till their questions would start.

 

“Alan, wasn’t that the hotel you were at?”

 

“Did you notice anything odd?”

 

Or maybe they will tell me how lucky I was, that it could have happened to me.  Probably best to act surprised I surmised and that I was so thankful nothing so awful had happened to me when I stayed there.  Fortunately I had learned I was a good liar..  Not the kind that would let something slip easily.

 

The Angeles snapped me back from my thoughts.  It lasted the customary sixty seconds and then the news headlines were read out.  I was surprised when it wasn’t the first item mentioned but shocked when there no mention of it whatsoever.  Perhaps the news still had to filter through.  Then at the end there was a brief mention of the British Prime Minister Tony Blair visiting the North for peace negotiations.  The attack had demonstrably failed.

 

A million different thoughts started to run through my mind.  Perhaps there was a cover up to stop panic breaking out or maybe the bomb had failed to detonate.  Either way things were not good and I could feel a heavy weight on my shoulders..

 

Perhaps sensing my unease my father asked me if I was alright.  I struggled to reassuringly smile and nod that I was fine.

 

The news continued till the end without any mention of an attack as I slowly ate my way through the dinner.  Once I was finished I went to check my mobile swinging my arm onto the coffee table where I had left it hours earlier but there were no messages or phone calls.  What did this all mean?  Or maybe, just maybe..

The Zeyons 

 

 Below is a short story I wrote years ago and was was hoping to expand my science fiction universe.  Let me know what you think!

It was a sudden reversal of fortune.  Humanity had creeped across the Milky Way, colonising one world after another in a seemingly unstoppable wave.  Many aliens had been encountered previously but they had easily been destroyed or assimilated.  But now real frontiers were beginning to form; first the Mullinarians and now the Zeyons. 

 

The Zeyons appeared to be nothing more than a curiosity at first; robots that had apparently turned on their indigenous masters.  Humans thought they were too few in number to mount a serious threat.  But it was a major mistake; all their assumptions were based on an outpost of the Zeyon civilization.  They didn’t realise the number of planets and the quality of the spaceships under their control. 

 

It was Corporation Zang who made first contact on the barely habitable planet Moros, a recently discovered planet which was now seen as being ripe for colonisation and exploitation.  It was a carbon world located just outside the galactic centre of the Milky Way which developed from a protoplanetary discs that were carbon rich and oxygen poor.  Oceans of liquid methane flow on its surface covering approximately three fifths of the planet.  The remaining dry ground consists of frozen tar around each pole.  Carbon monoxide is the most abundant gas in the atmosphere and humans would quickly suffocate if not for their bio suits.  The lack of water was the biggest obstacle to human colonisation but it could be created in sufficient quantities through various chemical transactions. 

 

The ship Zorn was dispatched.  Interstellar travel could still take decades at this point.  On board one thousand female embryos and a massive sperm bank which was kept cryonically frozen until required. 

 

 

It was a sudden reversal of fortune.  Humanity had creeped across the Milky Way, colonising one world after another in a seemingly unstoppable wave.  Many aliens had been encountered previously but they had easily been destroyed or assimilated.  But now real frontiers were beginning to form; first the Mullinarians and now the Zeyons. 

 

The Zeyons appeared to be nothing more than a curiosity at first; robots that had apparently turned on their indigenous masters.  Humans thought they were too few in number to mount a serious threat.  But it was a major mistake; all their assumptions were based on an outpost of the Zeyon civilization.  They didn’t realise the number of planets and the quality of the spaceships under their control. 

 

The humans had by now perfected their technique of colonization.  As the ship approached the mid-point of its journey to the planet, the first female embryos would be planted into artificial wombs.  They would be born on board on the ship and have reached early adulthood by the time the ship landed.  They would then be fertilised and begin the construction of the first base. 

 

During construction one of their autonomous flying scouts spotted the first Zeyon.  They immediately recognised that there was another advanced civilization on the planet.  This one was different to anything humanity had encountered previously.  It was an android civilization.  They made no attempt to hide their non-biological nature with silver metallic bodies and piercing red eyes.   

 

Although they had two arms and legs it was obvious that they were not modelled on humans.  Two small artificial horns protruded from their head and their jaws protruded forwards.  Each Zeyon had strength and resilience many times that of a human. 

 

For many years the two colonies developed independently on different hemispheres of the planet.  The humans eventually sent a small group to make contact but they were obliterated.  The humans retaliated with a nuclear strike but it was ineffective against their shields much to the amazement of the human colonists. 

 

The planet went quiet for a time.  Then it was the Zeyons turn to attack.  Their tanks obliterated the human ground forces and they outnumbered the humans in the air where the two sides were more easily matched.  As the Zeyons marched into the cities, they tore the soft human flesh to pieces and the roads of the city became rivers of blood.   

 

Only a few humans managed to escape off the world.  But their tales of horror went unheeded.  Other human worlds reasoned that this defeat was on a carbon planet, one that humans were maladapted to and that the outcome would be changed on a different world. 

 

Some also thought that the Zeyons had a specific interest in carbon worlds and they would only be interested in inhabiting the inner galaxy which was a poor area for human colonisation anyway due to the intense radiation from neutron stars, black holes and the massive stars found there. 

 

Centuries passed and there was no contact between Zeyons and humans.  Then an armada of Zeyon ships entered human space.  Gerta was the first human world to be attacked.  It was a frontier world and its defensive capabilities were poorly developed.  In places the entire blue sky turned black from the mass of Zeyon fighters.  Its cities were obliterated in the first few hours of the attack and then the Zeyon ground trooper hunted down and annihilated the survivors. 

 

This time humanity took notice.   But it soon became clear that it was too late.  The Zeyons cut a swathe through unprepared human worlds.  The machines could not feel pity and showed no mercy as they slaughtered humans begging for their lives.  If their lasers jammed they would tear them apart with their hands. 

 

Eventually though the Zeyons cut through the less militarised frontier worlds and came up against more established human worlds which had initially become heavily militarised to deal with threats from other humans but which could now turn their guns on the alien machines.  After much bloodshed the Zeyon advance had been stopped. 

 

But there was to be profound repercussions.  The main body of human worlds now joined the Galactic Human Treaty.  It was a common defence treaty ensuring neither Zeyons nor Mullinarians could pick off human worlds one by one again. 

 

The rapid Zeyon advanced led to many individual and groups of human worlds becoming totally encircled by Zeyon space.  The different groups of worlds tended to band together to fight off any possible invasion. 

 

The individual worlds that were completely surrounded were in a much weaker situation.  Most were quickly invaded and their inhabitants slaughtered.  Some surrendered to avoid bloodshed and became the Zeyons biological slaves.  The few remaining worlds in human control were heavily militarised and of poor economic or strategic value. 

 

Beta 7×95 was an exception.  It ended up very deep in Zeyon space with the nearest human world many systems away.  It was a world that the Zeyon war plan had for millennia seemed to forget.  It was an oxygen world with oceans of water that covered five sixths of the planet in orbit around a yellow star.    There were two large continents on the planet on opposite hemispheres of the planet called Aba & Cohort. 

 

Aba was the first to be colonised.  It was originally covered by lush forest which would prove to be excellent agricultural land.  The temperate climate increased its habitability and the human population soared as was originally planned. 

 

Cohort was never to achieve the same population density.  There was a huge mountain range called Gubak at its centre and its climate was arid and hot.  Only a few mega-cities managed to develop along its coast benefiting from its bountiful seas.