The Vinctalin Legacy: The Ovinka, Book 7 Zondex

By Vanda Denton

He is a magnificent Emperor, a stupendous hero and a technical genius, and he is surfing on the crest of victory breaking on the ocean of freedom.

On their return to Earth, Pakow finds himself presiding over two new Emperors and vast battalions of displayed Guards, all of whom he needs for the construction of his Planetary Defence System. But these are powerful beings with ambitions of their own. When he discovers that one of the Emperors has chosen to emulate the beasts with a view to trading with them, Pakow deals with him, permanently, but not in time to prevent a great deal of suffering.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326485016

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The Vinctalin Legacy: The Ovinka, Book 7 Zondex

The Vinctalin Legacy: The Ovinka, Book 7 Zondex

Vanda M Denton

The Vinctalin Legacy The Ovinka: Book 7 Zondex

© 2013 Vanda M Denton

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers and/or authors.

This book is published by and available from:

VinctalinBooks

www.vinctalin.com

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-326-43288-1

ISBN eBook: 978-1-326-48501-6

The Vinctalin Legacy

A series of novels by Vanda M Denton

The Vinctalin Legacy: Survival

Book 1: Harvest

Book 2: Sacrifice

Book 3: Spawning

The Vinctalin Legacy: Retaliation

Book 4: Infiltration

Book 5: Alliances

Book 6: The Veekeren Element

The Vinctalin Legacy: The Ovinka

Book 7: Zondex

Book 8: The Message

Book 9: Veekeren

The Vinctalin Legacy: 0.0015%

Book 10: Alien

Book 11: Integration

Book 12: 0.00075%

The Vinctalin Legacy: Awakening

Book 13: Covert Operations

Book 14: Miss Kitty

Book 15: Humanity

The Vinctalin Legacy

The story so far:

Survival

The Vinctalin arrived in the night, gassing the entire planet with the intention of harvesting it for many commodities, including human organs. The survivors of Earth were enslaved by a human-looking army under the leadership of an Emperor, in order to aid in the harvest. When they realised they were to be killed off at the end of the harvest the Earth Humans, led by Jonathan Trad-Williams and SAS veteran Benjamin Stanzini (Stanzi), rebelled, capturing the Emperor and slaughtering his Vinctalin masters. The surviving Earth Humans took their prisoners to hide in a town away from London. Large numbers of Guards also arrived there unaware of the existence of a truly alien species known as the Vinctalin, who ruled them through the Emperor. But with no Emperor now to control them, the Guards fought one another and in so doing infuriated other Vinctalin harvesting far-flung sectors of the world. With their clan chief, Halbolival, out of reach of communications the lower ranked Vinctalin on Earth slaughtered all of the human-looking aliens that had travelled here with them, except for the Emperor and a few members of his family who had secretly been captured by the Earth Humans. With few trained Guards surviving from the alien ‘human’ army the heroes of Earth were forced to battle the beasts themselves. It was a fight they could not win. However, there was a miraculous eleventh-hour rescue by another group of alien humans: the Disciples, led by Mettle. Long after the bulk of the Halbolival clan moved on, ignorant of the insurgency on Earth, the human rebels found themselves working almost as slavishly for their rescuers as they had under Vinctalin rule. The few survivors out of the Vinctalin slaves were released from captivity with a view to making use of them. Their powerful bio-engineered Emperor (Pakow Lam Fellen) discovered they and their rescuers were in grave danger from a spawning left by Halbolival. They realised they had been deceived by Mettle. They were to be the bait in a trap that would bring the Vinctalin hatchlings to Foundation, the town Mettle had moved them to. Working together with the Emperor they turned the tables on Mettle, making his Disciples the bait that enabled them to kill two hundred new Vinctalin.

Retaliation:

Mettle’s Home World was attacked by the Vinctalin and some of the refugees came to Earth. They tried to drug and recruit Earth Humans to fight in their war against the Vinctalin. Stanzi and Alex (psychiatrist Dr. Alexander Byefield) were away camping. With only a few of the allies of Earth unaffected by their drugs Pitlon Gowry (Pakow’s sister) went in search of them. Together they released their leaders from a state of suspended animation. They imprisoned the Leaders of the Advanced Human Society, eventually negotiating an alliance on their terms. A number of couples decided to have children. Alex remained on Earth to take care of the expectant mothers while the majority of the Earth Humans joined forces with various groups of Advanced Humans for specialised operations. Pakow and his brothers aided King Resh in the liberation of the AHS Home World. Stanzi went with Leader Tep to rescue Advanced Humans on Pressin Vol. Jonathan set off with Mettle to aid the Disciples in an attempt to prevent a Vinctalin spawning on Tosa. There Jonathan communicated with the slave Emperors (Laxshoo and Zondex) left on the planet to complete the harvest and persuaded them to aid in the destruction of the hatchlings. Meanwhile a small rogue clan attacked Earth. Alex was tortured in an attempt to bio-engineer him into an Emperor. Pakow’s beloved partner was killed protecting their twins from these invaders. All but Pakow with his small crew and Mettle returned to Earth from successful space missions. Pakow made a virus he intended killing all Vinctalin with but on hearing this Alex, left mad from the torture, made incoherent objections, claiming that the Vinctalin fundamentally were bio-engineered humans and such a virus would eventually wipe out all of humanity too. With Stanzi persuaded, and then others, a new urgent mission ensued. Earth Humans worked with Disciples, chasing after Mettle and Pakow to prevent the release of the virus. Unable now to attack the Vinctalin with this method but knowing the location of their Home World, Jonathan came up with a new plan of attack. They massed all of the forces including persuading the two Emperors left on Tosa, Zondex and Laxshoo, to fight with them. Only a few elite Advanced Humans were aware that their success in these battles was down to the unique science of a secret faction, the Veekerens, until Alex uncovered the identity of these clandestine leaders. They found that the large area of solar systems occupied by the Vinctalin was not the only zone they dwelt in. Pakow rounded up and recruited surviving Guards to serve him, after he assassinated their Emperors.

Introduction

Some Vinctalin are more talented in their creations than others. A few engineer Emperors who rule over their slaves with efficient care, but all too often the evil nature of the beast is reflected in those men. Thus appalling violence characterises Vinctalite empires. The savage behaviour cascades down from royal Households through tormented Emperors, who in turn, abuse their wives and children. Those children command the Guards with equal brutality. The Tendanny are constant scapegoats for the Guards, while they express all that injustice through their ill-treatment of Tajats.

The Ovinka is the third major story within this series of tales following the fortunes of the survivors of Earth. The Ovinka is presented in three parts. Two Vinctalin Emperors who joined the allies in a successful all-out attack on the Vinctalin Home Worlds now have returned to Earth, along with their courts and their armies. Book 7 offers you the story of Zondex: a cruel, ambitious Vinctalin Emperor.

Prologue

Kesvisirel turned at the low growl escaping its clan chief’s parted lips. It was idly studying The Hierarchy Listings. Obviously there was something of note and that put Kesvisirel on stony ground. Since its return from Sector 9 it had discovered nothing of use to trade and it feared losing its name. Benjesrial scowled at having to answer the question in its Deputy’s eyes.

Two things of note.

The Deputy switched off the holographic display that yielded nothing of interest. It was becoming desperate to offer anything useful.

The Sector 11 clans remain static.

Kesvisirel was confused. Normally it checked positions in The Hierarchy. Sector 11 clans always remained around the halfway mark, but moved up and down a little; likewise their trading offers in the Listings. Though there was little in the way of quantity they always offered high-grade knowledge which kept them in a central position. It had checked very recently, nothing had changed, so why express that data in that manner?

Benjesrial frowned at its Deputy as it tapped up data on the screens. It had searched records dating back hundreds of years, and now Kesvisirel was more perplexed than ever. Benjesrial sighed. Training this Deputy was irksome in the extreme. It would have to consider doing this by implant. For now it explained.

They never move outside this band.

Kesvisirel studied the broad band of names halfway up The Hierarchy and the Listings as the lists scrolled through in time sequence. It was considering tapping in a computer analysis when it realised what Benjesrial had noticed, and it should have seen some time ago.

All other sectors have clans that rise and fall far closer to the top and the bottom.

These were changing position randomly but not one single clan ever rose or fell outside that band.

The Chief’s eyes rolled in contempt while it waited for the Deputy to work out the next stage of reasoning.

They are manipulating their position, Kesvisirel gasped.

Benjesrial rotated its hand, trying to roll along the slow thinking process.

They don’t want our attention!

The Chief grunted, At last you see it.

But for what purpose?

That would be guesswork.

Kesvisirel racked its brain for sensible speculation.

Benjesrial sighed. They have something to hide. Something big. Send a scouting team.

Yes Chief Benjesrial.

As it leapt from its seat the Chief grabbed its wrist roughly, pulling it back down. When I have finished.

It favoured Benjesrial with its full attention.

Put Jomezvimel in charge, and hand-pick its Seconds.

Kesvisirel didn’t set off this time because it noticed Benjesrial tapping the recent Listings back up. It watched the constantly changing positions of the names on The Hierarchy too, and now a single one stood out for a different reason.

The Clan of Lemelremin.

Yes Kesvisirel. A very small clan that is plummeting through not trading. Now, what does that suggest?

Their experiments are failing, they have suffered poor harvests or possibly they have made a fatal engineering error.

Their last contact was a promise of stem cells from a harvest taking place in one of their claims in Sector 3.

Kesvisirel tapped up the data. Tosa. There is nothing from them after that.

And then Kesvisirel was stunned anew as it watched other clan names sliding slowly downwards: Rolavio, Vrenopilod and Peldonius.

Another scouting mission?

No, they’re insignificant. Trade for knowledge. Set up an automated system. If some disaster befell Lemelremin on Tosa it will come to light soon enough. And get some Seconds tracking the last movements of those other clans; especially Peldonius. Why has it traded nothing from that rogue world? I want to know if it is merely incompetent, if it has something to hide, or if it in turn has been attacked. I am beginning to sense a danger to The Hierarchy.

Chapter 1

They faced one another on the open ground of an Earth sport’s field. Each had a sparring pole, for now vertical and in one hand. Angry emerald eyes flashed at one another as they waited for the signal to begin. Each tossed a cropped silver-topped head at the other, causing the jewels in their brows to glint in the weak autumn sunlight.

Rosek Isolla sat on the bench next to his brother as they quietly discussed this state of affairs. Every now and again he tossed the great mane of silver-blonde hair from his brow, revealing an array of small, brightly-coloured jewels embedded in the golden tanned flesh.

Isolla said, Chaso Vrenna has buffed her armour again. Nobody can make their gold gleam like hers.

Quivep Mivon had become disdainful of Chaso’s obsession with her uniform. She had even found a way to repair every tear and stain in the turquoise suit. She may be shinier, but that will not help her survive a battle with Krevith.

The brothers watched the soft, pliable lightweight plastometal of the golden armour adapt to her movements as she bounced lightly and twisted her pole into the turf.

Mivon and Isolla looked seriously at the solid metal sparring poles both adversaries twisted in their hands as they settled into their fighting stances. Just the right thickness for a human hand, and one and a half times the height of a Guard, these poles were nearly harmless in some hands. But for one of these Guards today the result of the sparring pole would be fatal.

Mivon kept his eyes focused on the space ahead of him. None of the other Guards watching would be allowed to see any weakness in him. Just as big and powerful as his brother, this Vinctalin royal also worried only about psychological, not physical, control of the Guards. In the natural body language of a menacing royal, Mivon too tossed his long wavy silver hair, causing the jewelled implants to flash as the light caught his forehead.

Quietly he confided in his brother, I wish we could find a better way. We should not allow any Guard to die by another’s hand.

Isolla, also staring straight ahead, replied, If we can’t keep control of them I fear they may all die.

More than a year ago Isolla and Mivon had fought in exactly this manner, to decide which would lead this bank of First Echelons. They did not fight to the death, and that agreement had been acceptable to the others then. Isolla had won. So now they had a single strong leader who made clear cut final decisions, with the help and advice of his brother. But this time Chaso and Krevith were causing a new split in the group. One of them had to keep quiet or die. Neither of them would be silenced, so Isolla had finally agreed to an honourable match.

Isolla shifted his attention from blank space to the two Guards who faced one another intently. Like all these Guards they had kept their hair in the traditional short crop, shaved to the standard length by the standard shaver. Chaso Vrenna had more implants fixed into her head than most of them, though. She had the sapphire they all possessed, screwed into the centre of her forehead, and the black punishment gem behind her ear. She had the same emerald schematics implant in her temple as Krevith, and in the other she had the orange cytrel distance communicator that Mivon and Isolla owned. Chaso also had a yellow time gem an inch above the sapphire, and higher up on each temple two more knowledge gems.

She scorned Krevith’s small number of implants. That contempt shone out of her eyes. Though neither had moved the battle had begun. Krevith turned his sparring pole, grinding it into the ground, while Chaso tapped hers lightly. Even by female standards she was quite small. At about five feet eight she was a good four inches shorter than Krevith and her body was notably far less muscle-dense. It seemed most unlikely the fight would last long.

Finally Isolla called, Prepare.

Both warriors began bouncing more vigorously in a flex-kneed fighting stance, holding their poles horizontally across their bodies. Chaso held hers low, at pelvic height, but Krevith held his high across his chest.

Isolla shouted, Engage!

Chaso rolled forward over her pole, straight at Krevith’s feet.

He bounced over her, swinging the end of his pole behind him, bellowing, Die Chaso!

Chaso felt the metal jar in her hand as, screaming, she hoisted up her pole to block that blow. She had caused the effect she wanted, because Krevith turned at the end of his leap and had started his charge still with the pole vertical, just as she planted hers in the ground, swung around the top of it, and with a triumphant shout landed both feet heavily in his face. He crashed to the ground while Chaso whipped her pole up and over her back to bring it smashing across his legs as she loudly expelled the air from her lungs. But Krevith was too fast for her. While her strike was mere inches from his legs he had begun spinning on his back, sweeping her feet from under her. Because all of her weight was in a forward momentum with her pole, she fell on to her face.

Still on the ground, and without a great swinging momentum behind it, he slapped the pole across her back, shouting, I said, you’re going to die Chaso!

The blow had been enough to push her back into the ground as he sprang to his feet. In that instant she seemed to be at his mercy.

Krevith’s supporters began chanting, Die Chaso! but their expectation of victory was premature.

As Krevith swung his pole over his shoulder certain he would crack her skull, from her place on the ground Chaso jabbed backwards with hers, grinding the end of it under the skirt of his armour and into his groin. He buckled in agony.

Chaso rolled forward over her head, crying, You won’t be needing it anyway, dead man!

Doubled over on his knees, growling furiously, Krevith just managed to raise his pole in both hands to block the two rapid blows aimed down at his head. Still screaming, Chaso redirected the strikes to clash dully with the pliable armour in his side; but she could not keep him down. Though bent forward in pain, Krevith was jabbing the end of his pole at her stomach. It failed to sink in because she leapt backwards. And he drove her back twice more in this manner until once again she sank one end of her pole into the ground and swung around the top of it, above the height of Krevith’s thrusts.

This time yelling Zenon’s excrement! she anchored his head in her knees, spinning and twisting his whole body along the length of the spine. She had expected to break his neck, in which case landing in a tangled heap with him would have been no problem. But he wasn’t dead. He was roaring ferociously as he scrambled on top of the weaker Guard, clamping his strong hands around her throat.

Die bitch! he yelled, spraying her face with his spittle.

Again Krevith’s supporters began shouting, Die Chaso! Die Chaso!

As if in slow motion, Krevith watched the emerald eyes bulge, the wide mouth try to draw in air and the sweat ripple through the jewels in her temples. Then he realised she was grappling at his fingers with only one hand. Immediately after that he felt the end of her pole crash into his temple, gouging out the head of his emerald implant, sending his sense of geographic location into a sickening whirl. As he lost his balance, a very much weaker Chaso grunted loudly, heaving the heavy male off her.

Disoriented, vomiting and infuriated, Krevith dragged himself to his hands and knees. Determined, stoked with adrenalin and the enormous triumph of not dying after all, Chaso wound her body in a spring, coiling the sparring pole over her back and head to bring it smashing into Krevith’s skull.

Stinking corpse! she yelled as the loud crack of breaking bone heralded her victory.

Krevith fell on to his back, releasing his last breath as blood pumped from the terrible wound in his head. Chaso Vrenna scooped up a handful of it. She staggered over to his followers.

Loud and clear she threatened, If any one of you miserable followers of the despicable dog, Kandel Zenon, says one more word in his favour, I’ll kill you too! Somewhere on this foul planet of animal manure there lives either Pakow Lam Fellen or Pitlon Gowry. Until we find them we serve Isolla.

She jabbed her pole into the stomach of a particularly vocal female Guard. Agreed?

Dreken Loxo sneered, Gowry is Second Echelon.

Furiously, Chaso slapped the woman’s face with her blood-soaked hand, and brought her to the ground with an unseen swing of the pole across her shins.

Leaping astride the Guard, tossing her on to her back to get the pole across her throat, Chaso yelled, Agreed bitch?

The First Echelon Guard choked out her compliance.

All eyes but Mivon’s were focused intently on this scene and it took them a few seconds to respond to his shouted warning.

Take cover!

While they scrambled to obey, he ordered two to drag Krevith’s body out of sight. Within a few more seconds the only sign of their presence was the thick line of scarlet blood leading to the pavilion where they hid.

They might see that from the air, Mivon observed quietly.

I didn’t see them, Isolla admitted. How low were they?

I think too high to see us, but they were circling as we fled.

Dreken Loxo huffed angrily. If it’s one of Zenon’s ships we should be out there greeting our fellows, not fleeing.

Chaso grabbed her collar at the throat. If one of you turds of Zenon betrays us to that murdering dog, I promise you, I’ll find a way of killing you before I die. I will never let that animal get hold of Rosek Isolla or Quivep Mivon. They have the right to rule. Kandel Zenon is the foul product of the murdering bitch Toray Por Vernon. You all know what she is and where she came from. Cowards! You’re afraid of her and her offspring.

Isolla, along with one or two of the other Guards, was peering into the sky through various windows. Mivon gave the order to have Krevith’s body hidden and the blood cleared away. Both listened to Chaso as once again she mustered support for them.

A Guard suddenly pointed to the east, calling, There it is.

All rushed to the windows at the far side of the pavilion, mindful not to allow themselves to be seen. It was still quite high in the sky, and almost certain to not have seen them. But despite this narrow escape, all Guards were frowning. They looked to Isolla for an explanation. He gave them the only sure knowledge he had.

It is not one of ours.

They were dumfounded.

One of the Guards said, These Tajats don’t have air craft of that type.

Another asked in that case where could it have come from?

Since they were brought down by their own surveillance vessels they had seen no other ships. Between them Mivon and Isolla had had six ships. Each time Zenon’s Guards got one of them the others somehow helped, though there was little space on these small vessels to carry passengers. Eventually they were all on foot, while Zenon’s ships spluttered away screeching and reeling in the direction of home leaving them stranded in the ice and snow. When Zenon swooped low for the last time a number of these Guards wanted to surrender. It was only Isolla and Mivon that Zenon wanted dead and that royal brother actually seemed to know how to win battles.

These two abandoned sons of the Emperor and their Guards had made their way on foot southwards from that area a quarter of the way across the globe. They had endured two winters on this rotting planet, raided towns, found maps and learned how to use them. They had battled many times with supporters of Zenon in those early days while still some demanded the brothers be handed over. In time that became academic since they had no way of contacting Zenon. Somehow he had relayed a feedback into their cytrel implants as well as the communications in their ships. Even after all this time the implants had not recovered. Isolla judged that effective repairs would require the expertise of a high-ranking Second Echelon.

Zenon knew where they were roughly, most of the time, then some seasons ago the attacks had ceased. Because they believed Zenon was trying to take over the Empire, still refusing to believe he had succeeded, they were resting up in this town, just as they had rested up many times before. Without the rinjinjin and without the knowledge of the Tendanny to make it, they were losing too many people to sickness and unhealing injuries.

They were getting ready to finish this long march to the Home of the Emperor, then at least they would know if Zenon had managed to kill the other brothers. They knew he must have killed his father, otherwise the Emperor would have control of his land by now and they would have been taken home. Mivon and Isolla were saving their troops and their most violent actions for avenging their father. After that they would have to rethink which of them would rule because Mivon had never felt that last duel was decisive. Both tossed back the thick silver hair, turned their heads sharply, flashing their gem-encrusted brows and glowering at one another through their bright emerald eyes. Everyone knew you could have only one Emperor. The Guards couldn’t be allowed to choose between Pakow Lam Chenden’s sons. There must be a clear victor deserving of their loyal service.

Chapter 2

Today at last they could anticipate the future with confidence. Only a few days ago the allies had returned to Earth. Too exhausted for detailed plans, the other two Emperors had been given permission to set up temporary homes in Florida and in Singapore, in exchange for working on the Planetary Defence System. Jonathan Trad-Williams declared a day of rest in the English town that had become home to the survivors of Earth and their closest allies.

Benjamin Stanzini had left his partner and baby taking a nap, while he sought out his friends. He found the doctor sitting with Jonathan in the large familiar lounge of this luxury H-shaped hotel that had become their home. Before taking a seat Stanzi walked along the huge window that made up the east wall of the room, and then looked out of the window that made up the north wall.

Garden still looks tidy, he called across to Alex, while he took in a good long view through the early autumn trees.

From this second floor he could see across the large garden, past the back hedge to the fields beyond.

Mostly thanks to the old folk and Tendanny, Alex responded quietly.

Rinj is growing well, the soldier remarked as he marched back to the coffee bar, close to where his friends sat in their usual circle of blue armchairs.

While he poured his coffee, Stanzi spent a few moments recalling how the conquerors of their world had forced his partner, amongst other slaves, to plant that peculiar self-seeding crop. He glanced again, past the closer meadow just beyond the rear garden of the hotel, noting that the rinj field beyond was still white. By Christmas it would quadruple in height, ripen and turn purple. Then the little robot harvesters would automatically appear. They would never be hungry.

Stanzi grinned at the spaceships in the meadow.

Bloody unbelievable isn’t it? He sat opposite Jonathan placing his cup on the coffee table. I’ve just been halfway across the Galaxy, helped slaughter thousands of those bloody evil Vinctalin beasts, and come safely home to Caroline and Benjamin.

It was only now that the soldier noticed Alex’s glum expression. While he’d been chatting happily, the doctor had been making short, absent-minded replies. The soldier looked to Jonathan for an explanation. The older man offered only a brief, humourless smile.

You look well, he said seriously, studying the powerful black warrior.

Now the doctor took a good look too. I should check you over.

Stanzi eyeballed him. No way was he having a medical or psych evaluation yet. So Alex made do with the unsatisfactory assessment he could get as they sat in conversation. Stanzi’s skin had a healthy glow, his sable eyes were clear, and he was as fit and muscle-bound as ever. He sat in his characteristic straight-backed pose, staring back seriously. His handsome face displayed easy relaxation, and his hands were still and steady.

Like all the soldiers that Alex openly inspected in this way, Stanzi hated it, so he did the same back. He noted that the doctor’s large grey eyes also were clear, his fair skin had just enough colour in it, his well-toned muscular body was fully at ease, but the face he knew to be much admired by women was way too grim.

When Jonathan laughed at the two younger men winding each other up, they turned their attention to him. He grinned as they openly studied his self-assured hooded brown eyes, pale complexion, and rock-steady hands. Nothing rattled Jonathan. No one but his friends in the hotel would get close to guessing how much this man had achieved in the past two and a half years. They should have been destroyed; killed at the end of that first harvest. But over that time he built a massive alliance which had gone out there and taken away the threat for the foreseeable future. More than that, he had given all the allies the chance to build defences that could keep them safe from the Vinctalin forever.

Still grinning broadly, Jonathan watched the two strapping six-footers. Alex was brooding, but Stanzi was the happiest he had ever seen him.

Stanzi said, Your hair’s going grey.

Jonathan didn’t allow the younger man, with the short jet black hair, to see how dismayed he was that his pepper and salt hair now had more salt in it. He was fifty-six years old. He would just have to accept it. Both transferred their happy grins to Alex. Now he was staring moodily out of the window.

Bloody hell! Stanzi exclaimed. What the hell is the matter with you?

Defensively the psychiatrist replied, Nothing. Why?

Jonathan was exasperated. He had quickly noted Alex’s defeated expression every time Zan was around, but this time was adamantly avoiding interfering in the doctor’s disastrous love life. Stanzi took note of the older man’s studious face.

You obviously know, he told Jonathan.

Alex said testily, How on Earth would he know when there’s nothing to know anyway?

The doctor continued staring out of the window, even though what he really wanted to do was watch the beautiful vision of Zan heading for the exit door. Her movement caught Stanzi’s eye. He watched the very appealing figure striding across the huge lounge, past the large polished conference table, to the door. Then he looked back at Alex who was frowning at the soldier’s obvious admiration of the Advanced Human.

Stunning woman, Stanzi remarked with his head at an angle for a better view of the legs. He quickly adjusted his expression to a welcoming smile when Caroline came to a halt in the doorway, to exchange a few words with Zan. All of a sudden Stanzi knew why Alex had become morose again.

Bloody hell Alex, what is the matter with you? You’ve had all that time with Zan, and no competition. You need a woman, so why don’t you just go for it?

Alex leaned close to the soldier. He wanted to make sure Stanzi wouldn’t be putting ideas into Caroline’s head. She had stopped interfering since she’d been busy with her baby and the last thing he wanted was her matchmaking.

He imparted his explanation in a hushed voice, Because subtle though you are Stanzi, you sometimes miss the finer points of a successful relationship. For example, in Zan’s case she hates men with a determined passion, has the sharpest tongue in England, and I’m not over Pitlon yet.

Bloody hell, Stanzi whispered back, mocking the doctor’s confidential tones. Why do you have to make such a meal out of everything? Why can’t you just have a bit of fun with her? It would do you good. Hell, it would do her good! You could wipe that sour expression off her face.

Now the three men took a good long look at the fabulous Advanced Human still talking to Caroline in the doorway. At five feet seven she was a couple of inches taller than the blonde Earth Human. Zan’s creamy flawless complexion contrasted dramatically with her long black, lightly waving hair, which once more she had dressed in her unique style.

Must take those young Zanists bloody hours to do that hair, Stanzi laughed. Caroline’s jealous as hell of it.

Now they compared Caroline’s delicate golden curls that bounced on her shoulders, to Zan’s helmet of tiny plaits. She had hundreds of them fixed closely to her crown, then most were released into long waves to flow down her back, while a few of the braids continued to the ends. She turned her head sharply causing the heavier plaits to swing out from the waves. Alex was thinking that he preferred it loose as he pictured her stunning deep blue eyes, presently turned away from him. Absentmindedly he compared them in his mind to Caroline’s pretty cornflower ones.

They all watched closely as Zan gesticulated crossly about something or other, causing her wonderfully full breasts and bottom to bounce gently under the plain blue dress she wore. Alex recognised the dress. It was one of Tani’s. Zan was wearing a snugly fitting, flattering, short, knitted dress, only because she would not take the time to find the kind of garments she preferred; those being the most sexless and utilitarian available.

Fabulous bloody legs, Stanzi continued his musings. She should show them more often.

Alex frowned. He’d been thinking exactly the same thing. And she was wearing the little kitten heels that gave them their best shape. Stanzi laughed at the doctor for admiring a beautiful woman, being free, and doing nothing about it.

The women’s conversation was becoming more animated, and all three men were caught by surprise when Caroline glanced across to them. Stanzi was very quick. He turned his lustful leer into a broad relaxed grin. His partner smiled back happily, giving him the warm thrill of a promise. Her glance turned into a longer look as the couple exchanged their understanding.

Jonathan realised his friend was suffering more than normal when the doctor failed to take an interest in the subtle communication going on there.

Normally fascinated by other people’s relationships, the psychiatrist said only, Why don’t you stop nosing into my affairs and take your wife and child on that walk while the weather’s fine?

Without hesitation or mercy, Stanzi replied, Because you always provide so much bloody entertainment Alex.

The doctor reacted acidly. It’s time you stopped swearing so much. Benjamin might be tiny, but he does have ears.

Stanzi’s parting stare told the psychiatrist he was an idiot about that too.

After their friend had left with Caroline, Alex slumped back in his chair. When a few minutes had passed he peered over to what he knew he would see. Jonathan was indeed feeling sorry for him and determinedly trying to keep his opinion to himself.

At last Alex sighed, O.K. This is worse. Just say what you want and then we can move on.

Jonathan settled back to study his friend seriously. After all they had survived and achieved he should be feeling happy. He would not add further pressure with his own criticisms. Instead he moved the conversation on to what for Alex would be a happier theme.

How’s the hospital coming along?

Alex’s eyes narrowed. Jonathan rarely gave up on an opportunity to offer advice about his constantly failing love life. Never the less, he was off the hook and not about to throw himself back on to it.

The doctor’s face lit up at last. The two new doctors are brilliant, although Dr. Singh isn’t in excellent health. He’s not a young man and they’d been living in terrible conditions. I’ve got one of the medics working with him full time so he doesn’t have to do much physically. His health will improve if we take good care of him.

At least ten years older than Jonathan, and not yet having told them any details of his loss and suffering, Amrik Singh had been in the town only two weeks. Both men gave a few minutes thought to that fellow’s probable troubles.

Alex continued with quiet enthusiasm. He has a wealth of experience in different fields of medicine, and is primarily a paediatrician. Before the invasion he’d been trying to retire for some time, but there was always a hospital in Europe somewhere begging for his expertise. He’s so open minded that he’s even taking advice from Zan and is willing to incorporate Vinctalin and AHS technology anywhere that it can serve a purpose. He trusts her completely you know, and she even seems to have some respect for him. She spent a whole day showing her Zanists how to set up his wards and check out their equipment.

Jonathan spent some minutes appreciating that. For Zan to spend an entire day on anything but her own science was a kindness he had never before known her to extend. He looked to his friend and thoroughly enjoyed the animation in those fine features. For nearly two and a half years this psychiatrist had courageously drawn on his medical skills because he was the only doctor they had. Strangely though, it had been his expertise in psychology that probably had saved them. This doctor had known there was at least as much danger to their survival from mental illness as from physical injury. Getting two doctors from one of the Zanist scouting missions had been the best thing that had happened to Alexander Byefield since the whole awful business began.

Looking forward to watching more joy on his friend’s face, Jonathan asked about the other doctor.

Dr. Palnekov also has a broad range of knowledge, but wait for it…

Jonathan smiled merrily as he waited.

She’s a surgeon.

Alex watched his friend’s face move on from encouragement to genuine relief.

What kind of surgeon? He hardly dared ask.

The kind that has now performed operations she didn’t previously know she could do, in conditions that she never would have thought could have a successful outcome. She was a heart surgeon but she has removed an appendix, set bones and even amputated a leg.  She already has one theatre nearly ready for use, and the Zanists are preparing another. She speaks excellent English. We’re going to set up a medical school.

That is better news than I’d dared hope for.

Two of my medics have a good foundation to begin training. I’d like them to be taken off any factory work.

Jonathan nodded. He hadn’t kept in touch with the medics Alex had been training all through this long ordeal.

Who? he asked.

Chang of course. Eventually he will be a psychiatrist but we’ll provide him with more than the basic medical training I had. He is very keen.

What about his music?

Alex’s face lost its glow. We’re none of us getting what we really want are we? He has his orchestra organised. Providing he doesn’t have to do any other kind of work at all he can fit in music, medical training, and I’m afraid I’ve had to give him quite a few patients to continue counselling.

When does he breathe? Jonathan was concerned that the young man would be as overstretched as Alex himself.

Sensad has taken to doing all his laundry and cleaning.

Jonathan smiled warmly. She has to be the sweetest girl I ever met.

Alex grinned broadly. She’s also my secretary now. I’ve got her at least halfway out of her brother’s clutches.

Jonathan frowned. He wished Alex would not interfere with the royals. Rather than dwelling on that just now, he asked what other training Alex had organised.

Who’s your other medical student?

Susan Green.

The doctor had no need to remind him of this one. She’d been with them from the start. She was the stout, middle-aged nurse, who had stood by Alex and helped him at every turn. Unmarried, nursing had been her life before and after the invasion.

Alex said, She’ll be our first fully functioning GP.

Jonathan devoted a few moments of silent appreciation to that development, before expressing these thoughts. She’ll be excellent in the post Alex, and thankyou, you’ve done us proud. It is truly heart-warming to return to such a safe, solid foundation for a peaceful future.

Alex sat back, relaxing with the satisfaction of finally reaching this stage. The older man however, remained upright and alert. There still was plenty to worry about.

How has Zan been getting on with Pakow’s instructions? This was Jonathan’s greatest concern. If they didn’t get the Planetary Defence System up and running there would be no need for GPs, orchestras or hospitals, because another Vinctalin strike would definitely wipe them out. And the beasts could soon be looking for them. After all, never before in their history had they been actively attacked, never mind on such a massive scale as the allies had just achieved. Mettle and Pakow had agreed that even with all this newly accessed data they had no real comprehension of the numbers of Vinctalin in the Galaxy, or of their socio-political structure. There were bound to be some surviving the gassing and others returning from missions away. However they had destroyed or stolen all of their significant technology and