Tyson was shown into the briefing room off to the side of the Command and Control Centre. He was met by a cross section of individuals who were the principal members of the new force. Crikey, someone means business, was the only thought it could muster. Facing him, along with Kabel, the Zeinonians were represented by the injured Safah and Quinlan, both now rested after the battle, the human contingent by General Corder, Admiral Koshkov and Walter, the Pod by Dominion and his son Wernion, and the silent figure of Zebulon stood to one side with a curious looking being. He was amused by the dazed looks on both Safah and Quinlan’s faces who were stunned that they were in the spaceship that formed the basis of almost their religion. Quinlan’s injury was the worst of both, a nasty cut on his forehead, now safely bandaged up. But if their expressions made him smile the looks on the Pod representatives trumped it. They were terrified and desperately trying not to show it. From their simple subterranean life in the depths of the planet they found themselves, on the orders of the High Priestess, on a dazzling spaceship, which was, until recently, part of their nightmares.
‘Glad you could join us Mr Mountford,’ said General Corder, laced with heavy sarcasm. He was still recovering from his injuries from the battle but that didn’t deter him from baiting the troublesome boy wonder. His broken arm was in a cast that was folded across his chest and supported by a sling.
‘No need for that tone, General,’ said Kabel, witnessing Tyson bristle with the challenge; they still didn’t see eye to eye after their disagreement on the Elanda. Kabel didn’t see Admiral Koshkov stroke his goatee beard thoughtfully during the interplay; the Russian still had a suspicion that the American was not aligned with the objectives of the expedition.
‘So what is the panic stations for?’ Tyson felt belligerent, his previous calm mood, set by the presence of his friend and the influence of Eva’s sparkling personality, evaporated into the abyss of life events.
‘Please take a seat, Tyson,’ said Kabel, the others in the room wary of triggering the volcanic nature of Tyson’s rage.
‘I’ll stand,’ was the blunt reply and Kabel didn’t want to push it further. He indicated to Walter to take over the briefing and Tyson’s eyes switched like a trident missile from one person to the next, his magics flaring up as he read the undercurrents and scattered thoughts in the room.
How will he react?
Why is everyone so scared of him?
Will he act first or listen?
‘What is this all about?’ he demanded and then the other thoughts hit him and he knew.
‘My Mum, what about my Mum?’ Tyson began to pulsate with his magics, those in the room stepped back. Wernion stepped forward wanting to help his new friend but his father grabbed his arm and held him back, shaking his head to deter him.
‘Continue Walter?’ said Kabel, as he indicated Zebulon to move closer to Tyson. Tyson saw the move and turned to Zebulon. His new protector sent messages to him telepathically to manage his breathing, retract his anger. By this time Tyson’s body was nearly shaking with power and Safah and Quinlan needed to turn their heads away to shield their eyes. Then the soothing words worked and Tyson began to stabilise, until the force-field resided in just his hands. Zebulon noiselessly congratulated him on his control. All in the room breathed a sigh of relief.
Walter cleared his throat and flicked on the overhead screen, which was deployed.
‘During the battle for the Aeria Cavern, Lieutenant Lavelle, picked up a signal transmitted from Skegus to Zein,’ he started, nervously as usual. ‘The message was sent in code so we recorded it and after the battle had ended, no little thank you to you, of course,’ said Walter, pointing to Tyson proudly, who in turn ignored the compliment, gripped by the unfolding reason for the briefing.
‘My mother, Walter!’ said Tyson, through gritted teeth.
‘With the help of Tian, from Skegus,’ Walter, quickly continued, pointing to the tall golden skinned figure, who bowed. Tyson bowed back briefly, still fixing his stare on Walter, who gulped nervously. He clicked the remote he was holding in his hand.
The voice filled the room. Tyson shook as he heard his mother’s voice, the desperation behind the message, and the horror of what she was witnessing. Others in the room diverted their eyes as they felt the full range of emotions play across Tyson. He didn’t hear the door open or see Amelia slip in. Kabel had sent for her as soon as he had heard the tape. He knew that Tyson needed the emotional support of the one he loved. The message finished and there was an uncomfortable silence, no one wishing to say the first words.
‘I want a ship.’ The statement was said with no room for negotiation but General Corder took the bait.
Not a good move, thought Kabel.
‘I know it is your mother, Mr Mountford, but you will not be going off on some hair-brained rescue mission, as long as I am in control of this Expeditionary Force,’ said General Corder, squaring up to Tyson, across the table, still smarting at the trouble he had caused on the journey to Zein. Tyson didn’t reply but leapt over the table, too fast for the guards or anyone else in the room to react, to land in front of General Corder with his face an inch away from the soldier’s face.
‘I can rectify that,’ Tyson snarled.
It was Zebulon who intervened. Moving just a fraction slower than Tyson he was there beside them and he inserted his frame in front of Tyson, again sending calming messages to him, then Amelia was there, grabbing hold of his hand, soothing away the anger. General Corder, stepped back, pale, uncertain and a little afraid.
‘You are a liability to this task force, Mr Mountford, I will have you removed to the cells.’ His injuries weakened him and he cursed the fact Tyson had made him uneasy.
‘Try it,’ snarled back Tyson. No one was backing down.
‘Gentlemen, we need to sit down, take the heat out of this discussion and think calmly how we can free Skegus, defeat Zylar and the Xonians and free any prisoners,’ said Admiral Koshkov, calmly. ‘Mr Mountford, we will get your mother back but we need to decide how we can do that without jeopardising hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.’
Tyson, with one last hard glance at the general, reluctantly agreed and took a seat at the table. The others in the room did the same with General Corder sitting well away from the instigator of the tension in the room. Amelia and Zebulon sat protectively next to Tyson, more to keep an eye on their friend, than to safeguard Tyson from others in the room.
Admiral Koshkov was all business, this was his strong point and he knew it. ‘Is what Mr Mountford’s mother is saying true about the plains, the frontal defences?’
It was the Oneerion who spoke, in a halting dreamy voice. ‘We never needed to have strong defences, relying on the support of Zein for protection,’ Tian said. If he was nervous no one could tell. ‘They have added to the fortifications, though they are still relatively weak.’
‘How many troops do they have?’ This was a question from General Corder, attempting to gain back respect from those in the room. He failed. The Oneerion was just going to reply, when Kabel stepped in. ‘Before you answer can you tell us how the Xonian manage the relationship between Oneerio and Skegus?’
Tian cocked his head to one side as if he were contemplating whether to answer or not, then he spoke. He spoke about the first day they came, the unnecessary killing, how they rounded up their women and children and began to execute them until all the secrets of the mining operation were provided, and then they continued anyway until even they grew tired of the screaming and stench of death. He told them how many of his friends were taken away to be experimented on, never to be seen again. There was no sound in the room as the horrors unfolded. The humans in the room feared for the six billion on Earth and what would happen to them if the Xonians defeated their armies.
Tian continued as he lay out the defences which faced them. The Xonians treated the Oneerions as slave workers in the mines of Oneerio and there were nearly fifty thousand troops guarding them with two destroyers in orbit. On Skegus their numbers were nearer one hundred thousand and in orbit there was a space cruiser that held over eighty fixed wing spacecraft.
‘Can the ships in orbit of Oneerio reach Skegus in time?’ asked Admiral Koshkov.
‘It would take them a few days to reach an attack position on Skegus,’ Tian said, ‘The Xonians are an experienced warrior race and would not leave their mining operations undefended, irrespective of an attack on another outpost.’
‘If we go for a full frontal attack, will that not place the hostages in danger?’ said Tyson. ‘Couldn’t we teleport in following my mum’s DNA signal, like we did at the Southern Palace?’
Tian shook his head. ‘We have security protocols that prevent any teleporting outside official routes within the metro limits.’
Tyson jumped up and brought his fist down on the table. ‘We can’t just attack and hope they don’t use the hostages as shooting practice.’
It was Kabel who calmed matters down, saying, facing Tyson, ‘Tian says there is a way for us to enter the city but it is dangerous.’
‘What is it?’
It was Lieutenant Morrison who replied. ‘I discussed this earlier with Tian. If we climb up the mountain which overlooks the city and prevents any attack from the back, we can freefall using our specialist parachutes to land on the tallest building in the city.’
‘We are not all special forces you know,’ challenged Tyson. Morrison held his hand up in acknowledgment.
‘Yes, I am aware and that we can deal with. Tian here says there is a secret passage that goes through the mountain into the Oneerion Royal Palace.’
‘What about their Xonian space cruiser?’ asked Quinlan.
‘We attack the cruiser first with the Elanda, the Manhattan and the Brooklyn will support the initial landing on the ground with the Elanda joining them, after dealing with the cruiser, to off load the levitation tanks,’ said Admiral Koshkov, he looked across at Quinlan. ‘The Tyther clan, I believe are specialists in the technology arena?’
Quinlan’s chest puffed out with pride, ‘We are, although the Fathoms have always wanted our crown on that one.’
‘Good, we will need scaffolding and tools to help our troops breach the outer barricades of Quentine.’
‘On it.’ Quinlan stood up and left the room.
‘Then the only remaining business is to decide on the insertion team,’ said Kabel. That discussion took some while, until they decided on a team of thirty, their task to locate the main prisoners, escort them to the Quentine transportation portal and send them to the Elanda portal room, before or during the main attack if possible.