In Search of the Alter Dom (22 page)

The following morning Blodwyn is on the bridge, aboard the captured Galla Quall armed frigate with the sabotage party, who plan to poison the lakes on Quilla Prime – killing the aquatic Galla Qualls and Ida Jaade who live in its dark depths. She made a point of memorizing the Latin codes, and take-off and landing procedures – flying the craft looked simple. She was beginning to enjoy space travel – if only circumstances were different!

‘Now hear this!’ announces commander Karak. ‘Our combined battle-fleet are massing somewhere in the Vega Triangle under cloak – the main Galla Quall war-fleet are still far away in the Alpha Centuri sector. Before our fleet can attack Quilla Prime, we have to dispose of the Galla Quall’s home fleet of seven Typhon War Hawks – deep in the lake. This will be simple – the poison will kill the Qualls first. Without Galla Quall leadership, the War Hawks battleships will be easily shot down and the resistance of the Ida Jaade on the two satellite planets guarding Quilla Prime and the lake, will collapse quickly.’ Karak holds up two phials. ‘These neurotoxins, from the Jal Mar are deadly to the gill, and filter-breathing Qualls and Ida Jaade. One phial in the lake is enough! We will reach the lake through False Arcadia.’ Captain Timasek jumps up and protests. ‘That’s the easy part Sir – first we have to get past the two armed satellite planets, manned by the Ida Jaade – they have banks of Orion cannon – and Nytron torpedoes!’

‘Bring me the two Semmi Tal,’ orders Karak. Blodwyn felt sorry for the two stick-like Semmi Tal, they looked so weak and helpless. Their large luminous eyes blinked nervously beneath their hoods.

‘You Semmi Tal are Shape-shifters. I want you to impersonate two Ida Jaade warriors – one a Centurion.’

Blodwyn moved closer – she had never seen Shape-shifters at work before. The two Semmi Tal concentrated and began to change shape! What started as two, thin, timid looking aliens then became a blur of moving shades of different colours; ending as two fierce, muscular Ida Jaade.

Karak cast a critical eye over them. ‘A crest – where’s the red crest?’

Crests appeared on the tops of the two Ida Jaades’ heads. ‘Raise them,’ orders Karak. The crests sprung upright. ‘Good – now dress them appropriately.’ Blodwyn watched intently as the two warriors were dressed as Roman soldiers. ‘Now salute,’ orders Karak. The two Shape-shifters lifted their hands in Roman salute. ‘No, fools,’ snaps Karak, ‘salute with your swords.’ The two Shape-shifters drew their swords; but the weapons were too heavy for their weak arms.

‘We may be Ida Jaade in appearance – but we are still weak Semmi Tal,’ one pleads! ‘We are not true Changelings but only Shape-shifters.’

‘Saluting with the sword is an important etiquette with the Ida Jaade,’ continues Karak, ‘any suggestions?’

‘Yes,’ pipes up Blodwyn. ‘A Centurion need not salute an Ida Jaade legionnaire with a sword – but visa versa. And secondly – let me carry the spare phial of poison!’ Karak’s cold light gray, eyes felt like they were looking straight into Blodwyn’s mind – searching for treachery!

‘I mean,’ explains Blodwyn in her most matter of fact and honest voice, ‘you may be involved in fighting and both the delicate phials could be broken – let me carry the spare – it will be much safer with me?’

‘She’s right Sir,’ says Captain Timasek the Na Idriss, ‘the Galla Qualls or the Ida Jaade would not harm a female Terasil.’ The Malis Afar Karak, reluctantly hands one of the phials from his belt to Blodwyn. ‘Guard it well,’ he orders. ‘Sir, we are coming into hailing distance of the Ida Jaade satellite planet, guarding Quilla Prime,’ Lt Sangar the Na Idriss reports.

‘Stand by,’ orders Karak, ‘open communication channels.’ The Semmi Tal posing as the Centurion, speak after receiving a sharp jab from Karak’s sword. ‘Centurion Marcus – escorting the Creator Sebus – back from patrol – of the Delphinus sector.’

An Ida Jaade warrior appears on screen and studies the two images.

‘Where is the Creator Sebus?’

‘In the re-hydration chamber,’ answers the Semmi Tal: posing as an Ida Jaade Centurion. ‘Pass centurion Marcus – hail creator Sebus,’ the Ida Jaade salutes with his Gladius. Karak smiles, ‘now destroy all Galla Quall communication channels and switch to Malis Afar code signals.’

Blodwyn looks out of a porthole. From above, False Arcadia looked like a patchwork of different colours and shades of green: a rustic paradise. “But why was it called False Arcadia?” The captured Galla Quall frigate lands in a wooded glade. Leaving Lt Sangar and a Na Idriss warrior behind to guard the captured frigate, with orders not to leave the vessel, the sabotage party set out for the placid lake in which the Galla Qualls and Ida Jaade dwell. At the bottom of the lake lay the Galla Quall home war-fleet of seven Typhon War Hawks.

The lake was situated on the other side of False Arcadia. Karak is in the lead followed by the two Semmi Tal; still disguised as Ida Jaade warriors. Blodwyn follows behind six Na Idriss. They move through the beautiful country of False Arcadia. Fruiting trees abounded; some exotic, others familiar; cherries, plums – vines grew everywhere, festooned with heavy bunches of dark cascading grapes. Game abounded. Antelope, partridge, quail; birds of paradise displayed and a host of multicoloured birds flittered and sang in a canopy chorus.

Beautiful butterflies floated on the warm flower scented air. Small neat pretty hobbit-like villages and livestock could be seen in the distance. The hungry Na Idriss licked their thin lips at the sight of so much red meat: on hoof and wing! Blodwyn caught a glimpse of a pale creature shyly watching her from a low cloud. “Is this the paradise Grunwalde talked about?” This fragile place would soon disappear under the cruel hands of the cold-blooded Malis Afar and the feline Na Idriss. Blodwyn had to think quickly if she was to stop this catastrophe! But what should she do? She would have to work on it: “Given enough thought any problem can be solved.”

The sabotage group stealthily approached a green leafy glade through which ran a gin-clear, pebbled stream! Flaxen haired and dark maidens frolicked; picking wild flowers and bathing. Their laughter and song penetrated the blooming woodland. “Were these the Angles, Saxons and other races plucked from earth by the inquisitive Galla Quall centuries ago; or were they Star children – Angels?”

Karak studied the females coldly: his thoughts a mystery. The Na Idriss sniffed at them longingly. Blodwyn could imagine them salivating at the thought of tender hairless Terasil flesh; and God only knows what else!

Unseen, the sabotage party moves on. Blodwyn starts to hang back a little; a plan had formed. She needed some kind of berry juice; dark purple, the same colour as the poison, to use as a harmless substitute. The group stops again. The sound of many hooves disturbs the tranquil scene.

‘Bolladocks!’ swears Karak… ‘Goats, but I see no shepherd!’ A large herd of goats passes by. ‘My men need red meat commander,’ Captain Timasek complains. ‘Patience Timasek,’ replies Karak, ‘your men can feast soon; you know how lethargic your species become – with full stomachs.’

Blodwyn studies the goats as they pass by. In the middle of the flock, she noticed a large strange looking goat; it seemed much taller than the rest: but was hiding this fact by stooping. Its eyes glinted - was she mistaken; did that goat actually wink at her – surely not?

This was the chance Blodwyn had been waiting for. She recognized a mulberry bush, heavy with purple fruit – just what she needed. Blodwyn had found a solution! She would empty the phial of poison and replace it with harmless mulberry juice. Blodwyn stopped, and started to eat some mulberries – they were delicious. Squatting to pick a large mulberry, Blodwyn spotted what looked like the hind legs of a large he-goat on the other side of the bush; a glinting eye winked again! Blodwyn slowly rose to her feet. She noticed curly goat hairs ended at the being’s waist and there began the olive muscular torso of a man. She met the creature’s eyes. It winked at her again and smiled. A heavy smell of Billy goat assailed Blodwyn’s keen nostrils – she caught a glimpse of horns – a Goat-Man!

‘Well rip my reed – a fair maiden,’ exclaims the goat man. ‘Would you care to share my jug – and a jape.’ A hand passed a jug through the bush.

“An amorous Goat Man is all I need,” she thought. Blodwyn recognized the creature to be Pan. She knew of his nature and deeds; however, she must enlist his help. Declining the jug, Blodwyn handed her phial of poison to the Goat-Man. ‘Please empty this and fill it with your wine.’ ‘Empty it – I will indeed,’ says the Goat-Man, ‘with pleasure,’ placing the phial to his lips.

‘No!’ Hisses Blodwyn, ‘its poison! The aliens ahead wish to destroy Quilla Prime and False Arcadia by poisoning the lake of the Galla Qualls.’ Pan looked puzzled. ‘No lakes – no Galla Qualls – no False Arcadia,’ continues Blodwyn, spelling it out to the inebriated Goat-Man.

‘Well rip my reed!’ exclaims the Goat-Man Pan, who then empties the glass phial of poison and fills it with wine – then returns the phial to Blodwyn.

‘Well this means war,’ he says swigging from his jug; ‘I must find my companions – a Centaur and two Satyrs.’

Pan the Goat-Man, pointed ahead and says, ‘I will attack from atop that hill.’

‘Wait,’ says Blodwyn, ‘be careful – the Malis Afar and the Na Idriss are ruthless. The single Malis Afar Karak carries another phial of poison on his belt – it must also be destroyed.’

A Na Idriss warrior notices Blodwyn. ‘Stop talking to that bush, female – and close rank – have you gone mad!’ he growls.

‘Slip away – meet me back at that spinney,’ the Goat-Man whispers.

The group continues. ‘Look,’ says one of the Na Idriss warriors pointing, ‘a Goat-Man on the hillock.’ The group stops and studies Pan.

‘False Arcadia,’ says Karak, ‘is full of strange creatures collected from the past, by the Galla Qualls – they are harmless ancients.’

‘What service can I give you?’ shouts the Goat-Man; in a surprisingly loud voice. ‘Your rare skin,’ answers a Na Idriss warrior, ‘it would make a fine trophy in the officers’ wardroom of our ship.’

‘Well rip my reed,’ shouts back the Goat-Man, ‘but I must decline – as me and my skins are fondly and firmly attached. But I will salute you with a volley of rocks!’ The Goat-Man picked up two rocks and in rapid succession threw them with amazing force and accuracy. The first stone hit the Na Idriss, who was bandying words with him, on the head! The Na Idriss fell stunned: the second stone hit Karak on the belt – breaking the glass phial of poison!

‘Bolladocks!’ swears the Cold-blood Malis Afar.

‘Not so harmless after all!’ murmurs Captain Timasek: sarcastically under his breath. ‘Let me blast him off that rock sir,’ requests a Na Idriss. ‘We have been spotted!’

‘No,’ replies the Cold-blood, ‘we cannot alert everyone. We will wait here for the scouts to return.’ The Goat-Man, pleased with his aim, did a lively little celebration jig on the rock while playing the panpipes.

Blodwyn held out the spare substituted phial of ‘poison’ containing harmless wine to the Cold-blood; she was happy the first part of her plan had worked. ‘It was an excellent idea of yours,’ compliments Karak. ‘You have a sharp mind – if your tongue is less sharp – I may consider you as a Terasil wife!’ Blodwyn gave the Cold-blood a sweet contrived smile and answered, ‘It will be such an honour!’ Karak nodded in agreement. Then in a quieter tone she added. ‘Get lost you creep – I would rather marry a scabby Pterodactyl!’

The scouts return and report the way ahead, clear. The group moves on. Blodwyn quickly undid the laces on her boots: an excuse to linger.

As the group disappeared around a bend, she made her escape and headed for the spinney and her rendezvous with the Goat-Man.

She marveled at the wonders and the colours of False Arcadia. “Is this heaven and Golgin Hade hell?” she wondered: but again she was wrong! Everything was perfect. Giant turquoise butterflies and humming birds fed from dripping beehives and lovely blue and red clusters of orchids.

Blodwyn reached the spinney and carefully entered its perimeter. What an adventure she was having. Blodwyn heard voices – parting the leaves gently, she beheld an amazing sight! Creatures she had read about in Greek and Roman mythology were before her in the flesh – she had to pinch herself: was this really happening?

A large Centaur: the horse-end coloured bay dominated the spinney. The human half was tanned, and powerfully built; with a large noble head and curly hair. The Centaur seemed agitated and was pawing the ground with his hooves. A bow and quiver hung from his habergeon around his shoulder. Near the Centaur stood the Goat-Man Pan. To the left pranced two unusual creatures, pale, handsome young men with the long black ears and tails of horses. “Were these Satyrs?” All were in animated conversation. Blodwyn listened. ‘Battle looms!’ roars the Centaur.

‘A deadly battle,’ pipes up the first Satyr excitedly, prancing and clapping his hands. ‘We fight to the death!’ adds the second Satyr.

‘What weapons will you use?’ the Goat-Man asks.

‘Insults,’ cry the Satyrs in union, ‘we’ll hurl terrible insulting – insults.’

‘Insults!’ the Centaur repeats in disgust.

‘Yes,’ answer the Satyrs proudly, ‘we will insult their ancestors, their mothers and most of all – their daughters – who we would threaten to chase!’

‘I am sure insults will be very frightening,’ says the Goat-Man acidly. ‘Can you consider hurling something more substantial – like a javelin!’

‘Oh no,’ answers the first Satyr, ‘we have no stomach for battle.’

‘You have stomach for bragging,’ says the Centaur.

‘And stomach enough for drinking my wine,’ adds the Goat-Man tipping his empty jug. ‘Fighting is not in the nature of Satyrs,’ says one Satyr. ‘Chasing nymphs and lovely females is our nature and deeds.’

Blodwyn felt it was time to show herself and stepped from the foliage.

‘A female – she-male!’ exclaim the Satyrs with delight, prancing towards her. ‘Don’t even think about chasing me!’ Blodwyn threatens.

The Satyrs let out a cry in horror! ‘Ugh, the she-male has the eyes of a Gorgon! The large, bloodshot eyes of a female wine guzzler! And look!’ cry both Satyrs, ‘she has a humpty back!’ The Satyrs lose interest in Blodwyn.