While preparations on Earth were underway, I decided to see how things were going on our neighboring planets. I first went to Mars, for I feared this diminutive race would have the most difficulty in war. They seemed to be thinking the same thing I was, so they focused their efforts on building impregnable fortresses and defensive artillery, hoping they wouldn’t have to fight on the many open plains of their planet. They also had large units of aerial fighters – basically just pteranodon-like creatures with Martian sharpshooters strapped to their backs.
I toured one of the completed fortresses, and afterwards I was impressed. The structure was actually built right into a mountainside where an entire underground Martian city lay. The structural improvements were camouflaged to look like the mountain itself. The old city entrance was undetectable now, and the slopes bristled with hidden missile silos and powerful lasers.
Marradok, High King of Mars, showed me another ingenious defense. “We modified an antigravity shield from a spaceship and used it on all the entrances and around the weapons. If enemies get too close to a gate or try to sabotage a weapon, they’ll bounce backwards as if they had struck an invisible rubbery wall. The harder something hits the shield, the harder it flies back!”
“Brilliant!” I said. “The only drawback is that these shields use a lot of energy. I see you have solar generators and windmills, but these have to be protected as well. If a massive invasion were to occur, you’d have to engage your nuclear reactors at nearly full capacity in order to power all the shields and weapons on the same power grid. Bringing that many systems online will take time. You’re going to need an elaborate early-warning system. If it can’t be completed before the impending invasion starts, the entire planet might be overrun before a suitable defense can be mounted.”
“I told Proxima about this weakness,” admitted Marradok, “but he was unconcerned. ‘I wouldn’t worry about an early warning,’ he told me. You’ll know about an invasion long before anything gets through my defenses.’ I don’t know what he could have meant by that, Malkin.”
I wasn’t sure what he had in mind either. Proxima had a penchant for flashiness and drama. His defenses would either work incredibly well or would kill everybody. I had an image in my mind of flaming meteors orbiting the planet at incredible speeds crashing into anything and everything.
“Proxima, just remember these Martians can’t handle massive meteor showers or violent climactic upheavals. You’ll need to show restraint when protecting them,” I warned him.
“Not to worry!” he assured me with a wave of his hand. “Our defenses will work quite well, and no Martians, Venusians, or Atala will be harmed…that is unless the rebels break through. Of course, that won’t be easy! What they need to focus on, Malkin, are finishing construction on the strongholds and figuring out a way to produce food underground. I can’t imagine the invaders will leave their farmlands unharmed. It will do them no good to defeat the enemy if they starve to death afterwards.”
“I’ll relay your concerns to the High Kings,” I told him. “Just be sure you tell us about your dramatic defense plan.”
“All in good time, little guy!” said Proxima with a wink. “We’ve got to tweak the design a bit. I’ve never made one of these so small before. If it doesn’t fit properly, the whole planet might expl…, er, not be adequately defended.”
My heart leapt into my throat at this Freudian slip of his. “If there’s a chance the planet will explode, don’t go through with it!” I pleaded.
“Relax,” he said soothingly. “I’ll test it on some large asteroids in my system. It’ll be completely safe before I set it off here around these planets.”
Now I had less reason to relax than ever. Did he say “set it off” or “set it up?” I went to the Martian High King to brief him. He assured me he’d have the fortresses finished in time, and that there was a contingent of Venusian botanists working to develop subterranean crops for their survival. He seemed to have complete faith in Proxima’s secret, potentially cataclysmic defense system, so I left it at that. I had warned him, but he wasn’t worried. I’d done what I could do.
My next stop was Venus. Their fighting force looked ready for anything. They were as tall as trees, as strong as granite, and as fast as a striking cobra. I sparred with a few to test them. Anyone I fought could easily hold his or her own against me, and the more talented ones could toss me around like a rag doll. I was so impressed that I decided to stay a few months longer to train with their best fighter and learn what I could. He was so good!
Their defenses weren’t as good though. They didn’t have impenetrable mountain fortresses, mainly because they hadn’t used their mountains at all up until that point. A contingent of Martian and Atalan architects were hard at work helping them build fortresses in their unused mountainous terrain. They only planned on using these for underground crops or as a last refuge, should the battle go horribly wrong.
Their entire race preferred living outdoors. They barely constructed any shelters at all, in fact. Venus was always warm and rarely experienced bad weather. Besides, a domicile large enough for a giant Venusian would require felling a lot of trees or moving a lot of rocks. They just didn’t feel it was worth the effort.
They understood the importance of underground havens, however. It was only the farmers selected to tend these new crops who weren’t too excited about their new living arrangements. If any Venusian loved the outdoors the best, it was a farmer. Whereas most Venusians could at least identify a particular patch of trees or a clearing as their homes – places where they kept their possessions and slept at night – farmers were true nomads. They would tend their crops and herds all day and sleep wherever they found themselves at sundown. They usually kept an enormous beast of burden with them – something that looked like an apatosaur – to transport their possessions and tools, but that was it.
Now that some of them had to live in gigantic caves without their beloved beasts – apatosaurs didn’t like the dark claustrophobic environment underground – they were a bit more agitated. Their High King decreed that all the farmers had to rotate underground duty with each other so that they could all learn how to take care of the new crops and so that those underground wouldn’t go batty from a lack of natural light or fresh air. I think if I were an enemy fighter, the last thing I’d want to face on the battlefield would be a Venusian farmer fresh from cave duty. Venusians are the most pleasant, good-natured beings in the galaxy, but the ones straight from the caves were the closest thing to grouchy you could meet.
The Venusians also reinforced their vast forests. Missile silos, lasers, and deadly booby-traps abounded. Once those were in, encircling the forest boundaries several miles deep, I insisted one of border guards escort me so that I wouldn’t fall into some bottomless pit or get swallowed by a Venus bear trap. Yes, these were similar to their diminutive earthbound cousins. Instead of trapping flies though, these gigantic plants would lie, jaws open, on the forest floor, waiting for creatures to step onto one of the two enormous leaves. Once this happened, the leaves would swing shut, trap the animal or fighter, and slowly digest it. This sort of plant was specially bred and mutated by Venusian botanists. It didn’t occur naturally.
The Venusians also had a large assortment of war beasts they were breeding and taming for our three planets. I was quite impressed at what I saw. As if a Venusian foot-soldier weren’t bad enough, they now had large formations of their own enormous, dinosaur-mounted cavalry armed with gigantic bows, swords as long as telephone poles, and spears at least twice that length. Whenever a formation of them galloped past, the entire ground would quake, making it difficult for little me to even stand up. Like the Earthlings, they had hunter dinosaurs, but these were no mere allosaurs. The carnivorous raptors they used would dwarf a tyrannosaurus rex! Their flying beasts were limited in number however. They needed a really small Venusian paired with a really large pteranodon to make it work, and this combination did not occur often. Still, they were not altogether without an air force.
A few months later, right about the time I finished my combat training with the Venusian warriors, Proxima returned to declare his project a complete success.
“What exactly is it that you’ve designed?” I asked him.
“It’s a large shield,” he responded. “After the dispute with Helios over my stray asteroids, we both erected shields to protect our systems. Helios’ was rather lame. He just put three rings of asteroids in and around his system at various intervals. Most were just ones that had flown there from my system. How unimaginative! I, on the other hand, designed something far grander. My shield incorporates an electromagnetic shell, coupled with specially designed asteroids at set intervals with surprisingly powerful antigravity generators. Where do you think the Martians got their idea from?”
“And you are sure you can safely set one up around each planet?” I asked.
“Sure!” he said. “The only risk involves making the shield the wrong size. If the antigravity satellites and the electromagnetic shield don’t balance right, the shield will either collapse, crushing the planet like a python crushes its prey; or it will fly apart, sending errant antigravity projectiles on a collision-course with who-knows-what.”
“Wouldn’t their repelling force prevent them from colliding with objects?” I asked.
“You’d think so, but no,” he answered ominously. “A large object like a planet would pull the satellite inexorably closer. Rather than striking the surface, it would burrow into the planet, forcing a path for itself until it encountered the core. At that time, the entire inner workings of the planet would fall apart, destroying all life and potentially rupturing the entire globe. If several of these struck a planet, it would definitely come apart.”
“Proxima, are you sure these shields are safe?” I asked again, feeling a knot develop in my stomach and heart.
“Yes, certainly,” he answered. “I rigorously tested them. Also, if the enemy manages to breach the shield, the satellites near the breach will explode, ripping any nearby enemies to shreds. The rest of the shield will remain intact. Oh, and the debris from the destroyed satellite will burn up in the planet’s atmosphere long before it strikes the ground.”
It sounded as though Proxima had really done his homework on this project. I felt slightly better.
“Once all three planets are done with their preparations, I’ll set off the shields. The satellites are already in place around the planets. Once they’re on, though, interplanetary travel will be impossible. The only way to shut the shield off again is to detonate the satellites.”
“How is this supposed to stop spirit beings?” I asked. “Couldn’t they just materialize on the inside of the shield?”
“I’ve gotten some outside help on that,” he informed me proudly. “Once that shield goes on, I don’t think even I’ll be able to get through. Ah, that reminds me. Make sure I’m on one of the planets before they’re turned on. I don’t want to face a horde of angry agents by myself. I’d end up stealing all your glory,” he grinned nervously.
Now I was impressed. Only an extremely powerful agent could design something that thorough. I suspected Gabriel or Michael was helping, which made me feel significantly better about the safety of this shield.
“Well, Proxima, I’m impressed,” I confessed. “The Venusians are nearly finished, so I think I’d better head back to Earth before you seal everyone in.” With that, I bade farewell to the Venusians and him and flew home.
Back on Earth, Atal called a meeting with his continental kings and invited their counterparts from Venus and Mars as well. He wanted to discuss the overall strategy with them and with Proxima. They first reviewed their current standing. Mars and Earth were finished with their preparations, awaiting deployment of their shields. Venus was nearly done, too. Their dietary needs were dramatically higher than their neighbors, so preparing the underground farms took the longest.
High King Verelion confessed that they simply had too little room underground to grow enough crops. “We’ll focus our defenses on the massive above-ground farmlands, but if the enemy forces prove to be too much, we’ll have to abandon these fields for the better defended forests and strongholds. If that happens, we could feed our population for a year at most. If many fall in battle – may the creator forbid – then the crops will last longer.”
The Martians also would have this problem. Their planet did not have as robust a plant life as their warmer neighbors, so their sparse farms would take a long time to recover, should they get destroyed. They estimated their underground facilities could sustain their full population for about 18 months.
Atal assured us his planet would not have this problem. “Our strong link with the oceans has us growing most of what we eat underwater anyway. Those crops alone could easily sustain us indefinitely. Even if our dry crops and subterranean farms don’t survive, we’ll still be able to feed ourselves and even assist Venus and Mars with our enormous stockpiles of rations and robust undersea farms.”
He continued, “I fear more for our defenses than for our food.” Earth at that time had few good-sized mountains and much shallower oceans. “Building good strongholds is difficult,” he said. “Our fight will mostly be on open land or in the oceans. Granted our fighters are much larger and stronger than the Martians, but Proxima said that wouldn’t help much against an agent.”
To demonstrate this, Proxima physically manifested himself in full battle gear. He was as big as the largest of the Venusians, could move lightning fast, and was incredibly strong. It would take about a dozen Atalan warriors or six cavalry to take him out. We were disheartened by this.
Proxima said, “I estimate that if only the agents under Helios’ command invade, there will be at least as many agents as living beings per planet. Although my entire system of agents plans on supporting you, if Mephistopheles sent reinforcements, we could potentially be facing an enemy so numerous that they couldn’t all physically fit on the planets. If Phos should bring more galaxies to the fight, we’ll never have a chance.”
Some murmurs of despair could now be heard, so he continued in a louder voice, “My realm’s agents can easily defend your planets from Helios’ forces. Depending on how arrogant he is, or how much he fears the wrath of Mephistopheles, we might not face reinforcements until it is too late for the rebels. If Helios seeks help quickly, which I fear he will have enough sense to do, then the war will become much more challenging. Still, I doubt very much that Mephistopheles will go running to Bel, his immediate boss, for help. Those two despise each other. If he shows any weakness before Bel, he might get fired.
“Phos himself, of course, will be far too preoccupied with his neighbors, Michael and Gabriel, to worry about a siege on a few tiny planets. Long before he gets word of what’s happening, reinforcements from Mallachia and possibly Gelashalem will have arrived here. I don’t foresee this war lasting longer than a month or two; six months max, assuming everything were to go wrong for us.”
“How long do you think your shields will hold?” asked Atal. Of all the planets’ High Kings, he was the most skeptical of Proxima’s invention.
Proxima answered, “Helios and his underlings have no chance of breaching. Helios will soon realize this and call on his boss for help. Mephistopheles can probably break a hole in them, so depending on how soon he finds out about us, you’ll have some peace at first.
“Now about those shields: you CANNOT activate them until I tell you. My agents have to first invade your planets and evict the meager guard force Helios leaves behind. His main forces will of course be helping Mephistopheles put down any insurrections in the Milky Way. While they’re gone, we’ll slip in and boot the rebels out. Your citizens are to do NOTHING to help us. This first strike is an agent-only engagement. If Helios suspects you’ve had a part in this, he’ll alert Mephistopheles and possibly others immediately. Besides, I don’t want any of you killed while you’re most vulnerable.”
Pacing back and forth in his physical body, Proxima continued, “Let the evicted agents assume we’re just temporarily taking these planets hostage, and Helios will not take it too seriously. He already assumes the Atala are fully behind him and that Venus and Mars will follow suit once they realize they’re surrounded. If he thinks the largest insurgency in the Doxades is underway in his own system, he’ll lose his mind and overreact. Mephistopheles will be bad enough to deal with. I don’t want to go toe to toe with a dozen of his kind or with Bel himself.” He involuntarily shuddered upon saying this.
The kings, agents, and I all liked Proxima’s plan. I inwardly felt that it would take intervention from the creator to withstand Phos once he eventually found out about this. Granted, Proxima was on good terms with Michael. If he came to our aid, we might just succeed. From what I knew about my own history, I was quite sure the Earth would survive this war intact, and that Michael himself would most likely be the reason for it. This comforted me more than anything.
We all agreed that Proxima would be the overall commander of this operation. His second-in-command would be Atal, followed by Verelion, followed by Marradok King of Mars, followed by me. Our combined forces numbered about sixty billion – every living soul on the three planets would be participating. There were an equal number of agents as well. Each planet also had an enormous number of war beasts – cavalry mounts, attack carnivores, and flying monsters. We also had countless missile silos, high-power lasers, and the shields. We felt more than ready.
Incidentally, the one other planet in our solar system with a race loyal to the creator was readying for the war in a completely different way. On
In order to properly evacuate over such an enormous distance, we knew the Neptunians would have to move beyond the speed of light, which meant subjecting them to wormholes. Michael and I showed them how to create a temporary black hole – something that could only be built in empty space half a light year away from the nearest planet or asteroid in order to prevent these objects from getting sucked in. Once the black hole portal was constructed, I urged them to experiment with inanimate objects similar to their anatomy to see if they would come out the other end in one piece. I knew their skin was elastic, but could it stretch trillions of light years? Our own experiments seemed to indicate the only things that could injure them were caustic chemicals that reacted with the molecules in their bodies, not physical trauma, but I was still deathly afraid of sending an actual Neptunian through a wormhole.
After numerous experiments with artificial flesh prototypes which passed through the wormhole with no apparent damage, the Neptunians finally felt confident they would survive. A small contingent of them, including their High King and Queen, made the long journey out to the portal. Michael agreed to examine the Neptunians’ dark matter, spiritual, and physical natures in ways no one else could in order to determine if they could survive. After he gave us his blessing, the high king of the Neptunians, named Salashemu, volunteered to be the first of his race to go through the portal to ensure it was safe. His wife Eshemisa refused to watch. He approached the event horizon and went in feet first, trembling like a leaf. When he came out the other end, the agents waiting for him said he was screaming in fear and extremely dizzy, but otherwise unhurt. Michael went in right after him, and I followed. We found Salashemu, who had taken on a spiralled seashell-like shape, muttering incoherently, his limbs spinning around and around. He gradually regained his equilibrium, untwisted himself, and calmed down.
“Are you all right?” I asked, with my heart in my throat.
“I’m n-not hurt,” he said, “But I n-never want to do that again. I think I was r-rotating slightly as I entered the event horizon. Once in the wormhole, that turned into a rapid spin. I came out the other end more dizzy and nauseous than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Michael examined him again to be sure there was no unseen damage. Once he determined everything was fine, he and I went back through the wormhole. I purposely started slowly rotating before I entered, just to see what it was like, and I regretted it afterwards. I, too, came out the other side feeling like I had spun about a billion revolutions per minute for three hours, and I was incoherent for quite some time afterwards. I guess the other times I had done this, I hadn’t been turning prior to passing through, and I vowed never to do it again.
It reminded me of the time long ago when I jumped out of an airplane in the U.S. Army Airborne School. The jumpmasters drilled us over and over again on how to exit the plane properly. When we went out of the 20-foot towers attached to a rope slide, if we didn’t jump straight out, we’d start spinning while sliding down. When I did this the wrong way out of the airplane, I started spinning too, except I had the rest of my life (approximately one minute) to untwist myself, go into a Parachute Landing Fall (PLF) position, and hit the ground safely. Due to one bad PLF, I sprained my ankle on impact on my first jump and had to fake being unhurt around the jumpmasters in order for them to let me do the other four training jumps out of an airplane. Seeing Salashemu like that brought those memories back to me pretty fast. Only out of morbid curiosity did I purposefully start myself spinning as I passed through the event horizon.
The sight of me curled up in a ball, spinning like a neutron star, dry heaving, and babbling like a lunatic was not very encouraging to the other Neptunians, but we assured them that traveling through the wormhole was physically safe.
“Just be sure you go in straight and don’t spin any as you pass the event horizon!” I warned them, once I regained my senses. We sent a very nervous Eshemisa through so she could rejoin her husband and help prepare for the arrival of the rest of their race, but the remaining contingent returned to
It took them six months going nearly the speed of light to return home. They had been gone over a year total with the first journey, the construction, and the experiments. Now they had to prepare an armada of spacecraft to shuttle the Neptunians to the portal. There they would abandon their spacecraft, travel through the wormhole one at a time (at a rate of one being every half second, it would take nearly 161 Earth years!), and then board different spaceships to travel for six more months to a nearby planet in Michael’s realm named Semesh. Those beings wished to join Phos’ realm. Since they were of a similar composition as the Neptunians, we would have them go through the portal the other way use the Neptunians’ abandoned shuttles, and take up residence on
We hoped this would be just a few years longer than it would take us to prepare the Atala and their neighbors. Now this planetary exchange program was not something I wanted to be a part of. It was so boring! I could never wait in a line that long! It would be like going to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get a drivers license, getting in line, and then finally receiving the license three centuries later. I’d have rather fought a horde of agents than do this! So leaving the Neptunians and their endless convoy of spaceships wending their way to the portal like a line of tourists waiting to ride a rollercoaster, I made my way home.
We most likely would not have to wait much after the Neptunian exchange program ended for this rebellion. This couldn’t come fast enough in my opinion, for some of the lesser agents were starting to get a little suspicious. We hid our true intentions as much as we could from them but they knew we were arming for war. This was not that unusual any more, however. Most planets by now had standing armies, but the others were arming to assist Phos and his rebellion, not the creator. Our three planets went way beyond any others’ preparations. Some of the lesser agents were downright intimidated, especially the ones on Venus, where they hardly would have a physical advantage should it come to blows. Helios also knew about how powerful our three planets were becoming, though he seemed not to care too much. He didn’t know about Proxima’s involvement, nor did he know of our real purpose, or else he would have been a lot more concerned. We were careful not to write anything down, and Proxima had to sneak everywhere he went to avoid the near-ubiquitous agents loyal to Helios. We’d stage bogus meetings and festivals to attract their attention, and then the war planners would secretly meet with Proxima or one of his less suspicious subordinates at remote locations.
Soon everything was ready, so we went back to life as usual for a few centuries, awaiting the end of tranquility as we knew it. It was a difficult wait. We had to act as though nothing were wrong, but we also had to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. The Venusians despised the waiting most of all, what with their farmers having to pull underground duty from time to time. Meanwhile, the Neptunian exchange program was wrapping up. Very few of the other planets had any involvement with this operation and knew virtually nothing about it. I inwardly suspected that once this was done, Phos would spring his trap. He may have been arrogant, impatient, and cruel, but he at least wanted to ensure one planet worth of loyal beings was completely evacuated and repopulated with like-minded rebel beings. Had he suspected us, I think he would have already begun his war, or at least have struck our three planets. Since he had done nothing of the sort, I figured we were still safe – that is, until the Neptunians were done.
From what I could see, there were still almost five decades left before they would be finished. I decided there was one more thing I could do to occupy my time and help prepare us for this war.
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