In the Beginning – Lord Delos
A Tale from the Orion Wars
by Eliza Ayres
(Before you attempt to read this on your cell phone, I would advise against it. This “short” story is 41 pages… on my laptop.)
This is fictional account of a real planet called Kashta, found in the Ashkera star system, the great blue-white star called Sirius A by Terrans. Kashta was once the ancestral home of many souls who currently reside on Terra (aka “Earth”).
This story is about some of these Taal-Lyran colonists during the early part of the great conflagration known as the Orion Wars.
Despite what has been previously shared in earlier works by this author, I have since learned Kashta was not the first home of hu-mans to be found in Nataru, the galaxy that Terrans refer to as the Milky Way, for the river of stars seen in clear moonless nights. Long after I wrote the original version of this story, I learned more about the actual configuration of some of our neighboring star systems and some of the histories of their colonization by hu-mans from the Man system (aka “Lyra” or Kepler-62). According to the records of the descendants of the Man star system, K-62 is considered the Cradle of the Man Humanoid civilization in Nataru. The word “human” means “hu” or man of the Man system, hu-man, in the Taami language, the original language of the humanoid Lyran races.
While I have interwoven a bit of galactic “history” into the storyline, this tale is meant to be a work of fiction; therefore, read it as such. I have also removed most references to beings who are regarded as religious figures on Terra, such as Krishna, Vishnu, Sanat Kumara, and Lady Venus. I am not claiming that these beings were never alive or real, but may have had origins other than what I was previously taught.
Long ago, thousands of Earth years ago, there lived an ancient people on the great planet known as Kashta. These were Taal-Lyran colonists who settled on their newly terraformed planet, a world that revolved around the great star they named Ashkera (aka “Sirius A”). Other Taal-Lyran colonists also landed on Morga, a planet that revolved around the white dwarf they called Thula. The third star of this triple-star system was a dark dwarf the people called Emerya. Later than the time of this story, one of its tiny worlds became the home of the Nommo, an benign amphibious race, but that is another story.
The humans who lived on Kashta were tall, slender in build, with brown or dark hair. The skin tones of these Taal also was altered by the radiation from their powerful star, eventually turning into a dark tan or reddish-brown hue. They typically had green, brown or gray eyes, as they were descendants of the Taal race who had much earlier fled the ravishing of their planet in the Man system. At first these Taal fled in their arks, hollowed out moons or small planetoids, which they flew to the Vega system.
Upon their arrival in the Ashkera system, these former Vegans terraformed their planet Kashta with Lyran technology using sound and etheric geometry to make the planet suitable for life. They were a highly spiritual people, loved the arts and sciences. The Taal-Lyrans of Kashta (K-Ash-Tah, [born] from the brilliant star) called themselves the Katayy.
One thing to note about all humans descended from the original hu-man lines of the Man system (aka “Lyra” or K-62); they were master geneticists and could terraform whole planetary systems, a feat they accomplished in the young open star cluster of the Pleiades.
As noted above some of the Taal colonists who arrived in the Ashkera system, settled on Morga. In this case, there was already an indigenous population of benevolent Grays and many other species already present. The newly arrived Taali set about hybridizing their race with the Grays, becoming in the process an entirely new hybrid race. In time, this hybrid race referred to themselves as as the Ashkeru-Taal or T-Ashkeri. These people were shorter in stature than their original Taal ancestors, probably around 5 to 5.5 feet in height, with triangular-shaped faces, white-blonde hair, and wide slanted green eyes. This new race called themselves the Ashtar Collective. During the time period of our tale, these people were aligned in purpose with their neighbors, the Katayy and their allies, the star nations of the Council of Nine and the Orion Council.
The complex triple star Ashkera star system was also the home of Greys, Reptoids, Amphibians, Insectoids, and all of the Hybrid sub-species. This system shelters a variety of cultures as the Ashkeru star system had/has 12 planets, offering an endless variety of environmental conditions. During the time of this story, the planet of Morga was occupied by indigenous Greys and the newly introduced Taal-Lyrans.
And now onto the story:
In the Beginning – Lord Delos
The Last Patrol
Together our Katayy people and our cousins, the T-Ashkeru, formed up a protective fleet under one umbrella. We called it the Ashkerian Star Command, as our suns circled around each other, with the great blue-white Ashkera, being the primary star of the triple-star system.
The vessel was a new model, presented to the Ashkerian Fleet by the T-Ashkeri, our allies and Taali cousins from the planet Morga in the Thula solar system. The intelligent hybrid race of T-Ashkeri were proving to be highly imaginative and innovative designers and builders of star ships. Our shared fleet was growing rapidly as a result of the hard work of the T-Ashkeri.
The new star ship, a smallish scout vessel was setting out on its maiden voyage, traveling in a lesser populated area of the Ashkera star system. As the small silver ship levitated off the tarmac, it quickly attained lift and speed, rocketing off into the glittering nebula clouds that surrounded the star system.
Through a break in the nebula clouds, the command crew could see their brilliant home star Ashkera and its main planet, Kashta, just to the right of the star field ahead of the vessel. This voyage was meant to be a short one, a test run for the new vessel, as well as a shakedown cruise for the new crew.
Many of the crew had worked together on other vessels, but not with their new commanders, Tazo and Delos of Sirust.
Occasionally one or another of the crew would surreptitiously steal a glance at the two commanders, for they were twin brothers, with dark brown hair, with luminous gray eyes, and the deeply tanned complexion of the Katayy of Kashta. What distinguished the two young men from their fellows was their slender height and inexplicable essence that bespoke of intelligence, courage and heightened sensitivity.
The crew knew who the twins were; they just couldn’t believe that they were traveling with this legendary duo. Although young in years according to the long-lived Katayy, the duo had already made a mark within the Ashkerian fleet with their navigational skills, as well as an uncanny ability to decipher coded messages intercepted from enemy vessels.
The Ashkerian Fleet was in the midst a potential combat situation with a relatively new enemy, aggressive Grey interlopers who had recently invaded other benevolent worlds ruled over by the loose-knit Council of Nine, allies of the Katayy. The Nebu came from the Orion sector, and appeared to be headquartered in Asba’a or what we know now as the Rigel star system and now seemed determined to invade the Ashkerian star system, including its lesser worlds such as Morga. Yet, it was unknown whence this elusive enemy would strike first. Resources were already strained, so, this vessel was sent out, although the crew was relatively untried with the handling of this new vessel.
When the crew first boarded the Silver Phoenix as the large scout ship was known, some of the men had made note of a small group of three standing to one side of the landing platform.
It appeared to be a father saying goodbye to his tall, slender dark-haired sons. The father was also very tall although more broad-shouldered than the younger men. The man was a lord of Sirust, as evidenced from his clothing and carriage. He had a dignified Presence, dressed as he was in a long pale blue silk tunic, with a golden sash across his right shoulder and wrapped around his slender waist. Upon his dark brunette head, there was a golden turban, from which dangled a portion of a peacock feather pinned by a large brilliant jewel. The older man’s bearing alone spoke volumes to the watching crew members. It was apparent to the crew members that this man was none other than Lord Chananda, a high lord of Sirust. The younger men were evidently his sons to whom he was now bidding farewell. In contrast with their father, the young men were dressed in the standard form-fitting blue Ashkerian flight uniforms, with short cloaks and high dark boots. The uniforms of the tall young men were further marked with a dark stripe down the left side and around the neck, denoting the rank of commander. They also wore communication devices attached to the chest of their suits, where they could be easily accessed in case of an emergency. Like the rest of the crew, the men also wore density belts around their mid-section, which would allow their bodies to sustain sudden changes of pressure and density while in flight.
As one of the crew gazed upon the trio, he felt a shiver of premonition run through his body, a chill of foreknowledge. He knew that the father would never see his sons again in this life. What that meant for the rest of the crew, he wondered.
At the time of this story, the crew of the Silver Phoenix was all male. During the relatively early stages of colonizing their new world, it was preferred that the females of the Katayy remain at home to raise the children and care for the home communities. Later on, many women who trained to be scientists and healers often accompanied the crews on the Ashkerian ships. Female Ashkeri already worked as scientists and healers on board the larger vessels, but the crew of this scout ship was made up entirely of male Katayyan.
The alarm about the recent aggressive incursions was primarily felt by the military. However, the feelings of stress translated to the civilian populations of Kashta and Morga, as well. However, this underlying anxiety was carefully tamped down as people performed their daily tasks, yet the stress of the present situation was wearing on even the most balanced of the population.
Two days into the voyage, the Silver Phoenix reached the vicinity of one of the smaller, outer planetoids of the Ashkera solar system, a world that orbited the small dark dwarf Emerya.
The designated communications officer was monitoring interspace noise as they approached the planetoid. Then, suddenly, there was a loud screaming noise that emanated from the crewmember’s earphones. All the crew heard the involuntary gasp, as the officer jerked off his phones.
He sent an urgent telepathic message to both commanders to get their attention. However, the twin brothers were already there, listening and watching the viewer screen as the starship began to circle around the planet.
“There!” Commander Tazo followed the pointed finger of the communications technician with his eyes as another crewmember spotted a large strange rectangular-shaped ship which suddenly materialized out of hyperspace. The vessel was a dark gray, difficult to discern against the starlight skies.
The twin brothers looked at each other in dismay. They recognized the frequency of their enemy from reports made by other officers, for it was the same enemy encountered on the other edge of the star system by larger vessels.
Their own small ship wasn’t armed or manned with enough defenses to deal with the strange vessel which was significantly larger than their own.
Then they noticed they hadn’t been sighted…yet, as the strange ship moved off in the other direction, towards the planet and away from the Silver Phoenix. Apparently, the new cloaking shields were working, yet this close they would have to be careful while observing the actions of the strange vessel.
The two brothers were burning with curiosity and a mounting sense of foreboding. They could feel the energies emanating from the strange green vessel. The two commanders knew intuitively that this strange vessel contained evil intent directed against the planet below.
Then the unknown vessel directed its prow towards the planet. The crew of the Silver Phoenix watched breathlessly, as they “saw” the enemy vessels powerful forward weaponry being directed towards the unsuspecting planet below.
The officer monitoring communications warned, “They’re powering up, sir! And they’re aiming for the planet!”
Commander Tazo’s darkly tanned face blanched white, as his heart filled with concern for the unsuspecting population on the planet below. Under his breath, he said, “No!”
Then enemy vessel opened fire, directing several powerful energy weapon beams towards the planet as the Ashkerian crew of the Silver Phoenix looked on helplessly. Commanders Tazo and Delos, especially registered the enmity and dark intent of the strange vessel, a feeling that penetrated deeply into their sensitive beings, making them feel somewhat nauseous.
“Oh, no!” Commander Tazo looked at his brother, Delos. He suddenly knew the intentions of the enemy. He “felt” more ships enter nearby space and follow suit, aiming their weaponry at the planet below.
They were going to destroy the planetoid, intent on using the fear of destruction as means to conquer Ashkerian space. The commanders had heard of such tactics being attempted in Pleiadian space, too.
Now, this new invading force had reached the outer boundaries of Ashkerian space. The long-threatened invasion had begun, here, on the edge of Ashkerian-controlled space and it was up to the brothers to let their superiors know at once.
The two sets of light gray eyes stared at each other as the brothers communicated rapidly to each other via telepathy. Delos said: “We need to inform Kashta and the main fleet!”
“Yes!” agreed Commander Tazo.
The brothers knew that if they broke radio silence that their ship would be detected and probably destroyed, but they didn’t have any honorable options. They could flee, but other worlds might be attacked before a suitable defense could be mounted by the main fleet. They knew what they had to do… and were not afraid of the consequences of their mutual decision.
As the enemy fleet… it was now a fleet of vessels, large and small, was focused on their target below, the Silver Phoenix edged slowly and silently away, while the crew looked on with horror as they saw the planet below begin to break up under the barrage of the attack.
Commander Delos took over the communications chair and began sending a code to the Ashkerian Fleet. He flinched as he felt the implosion of the planet and the silent cries of the dying people below, as tears streamed down his tanned face.
Then he felt the loving Presence of his great Father, Lord Chananda, fill his heart. “What is wrong, my son?”
“Father, the enemy of which we have been told by the Errahel is here!
“I feel it, Delos,” his Father replied.
“Tell the Fleet!”
“I will, Delos!”
Even as he had this inner conversation with his Father, Delos worked to formulate a clear message on the danger posed by these strange ships. Finally, he managed to contact the communications officer of one of the great Ashkerian motherships, The Golden Lily: “Commander Delos! What is a matter?”
“Sir, The Planet of W— has been destroyed! Ashkerian space has been invaded! Tell my brother, Lord Jychondria!”
Then the Silver Phoenix was hit with a massive wave of energy. Delos yelled, “Men, we’ve been detected! We need to get out of here!”
Commander Tazo was already at the helm directing the small patrol ship out away from the enemy fleet when another strange ship appeared nearly on top of them.
The Silver Phoenix shuddered from another blow. And then their shields went down.
The two young men eyes met across the small command deck, knowing they and their crew were about to die.
The Ashkerian scout ship turned to run, but it was too late. The enemy was upon them. Then the final blow came, sending shards of the small Ashkerian vessel raining through space like silvery stars.
Far away in the great city of Sirust on the twins’ home world, Kashta, their father Lord Chananda knew that the young men and their crew were gone.
There was nothing to do now but for the father to command healing Angels to gather up the light bodies of his sons and their small crew and take the fragmented souls of the crew to a place where they could be healed of their most recent trauma.
Knowing that his sons would reborn again on their world comforted their father slightly, but even he, a highly evolved soul, deeply felt the grief of his people as news of the disaster was relayed throughout the great city. The talented and brave young men and their crew would be deeply missed by all of the people of Kashta.
Fifteen years later, Delos was reborn onto Kashta, again as son of Lord Chananda. His family was happy to greet the newborn into the family, once more. His brother, Tazo, also rejoined the family about five years later. During their younger years, their elder brother, Lord Jychondria, and Lord Chananda sent the children to Naara (aka “Venus”) in the Sol system for safety where they were fostered out to an uncle and aunt for several years until they were ready to enter their formal training.
Naara was the second planet located in the Sol system. Although barren and covered by noxious acidic clouds, the clever Lyrans successfully built several biospheres to provide living space for their colonies. By the time of the boys’ visit, there were several different cultures living on Naara, including a small colony of the boy’s own race, the Katayy. This Taal-Lyran colony had set up a protected biosphere that protected the small city from the harsh Venusian environment… the result of many assaults upon the planet through the ages. There also existed a small Taal colony who had migrated directly from the original home of hu-mans, the Man system. Likewise, there was an colony of T-Ashkeru, from Morga, also present on Naara.
The tall gracious Venusian lady with brunette hair watched as her young Katayyan visitors played with her beloved birds in the great aviary. A mother and grandmother herself, the lady fondly observed the two precocious dark-haired lads as they wandered around the aviary, allowing birds and butterflies to land on their hands and then laughing as they released them to fly again amongst the tropical flora. The amazing structure was large enough so whole flocks of birds could fly together in unison. The boys were delighted by the lush tropical setting, the colorful birds and butterflies present, and the cacophony of bird calls. There were also dragonflies that danced above the sheltered pools wherein gold fish swam.
One of the lads ran up to her, the oldest one, “Lady Startuckus! Your birds are so beautiful!”
The lad’s light gray eyes were wide and sparkling with life and vitality. He didn’t wait for her to reply but dashed off to join his younger brother. The two boys were charming and as close as twins despite the gap in their ages.
A while later, the lads’ father quietly strode through the aviary and joined the lady where she was watching the boys playing with the birds. He was a striking man, tall, broad-shouldered, dressed entirely in a colorful emerald green open-neck tunic extending below his slender hips, with comfortable long full silk pants covering his legs. There was a bright gold silk sash around his slender waist and a gold turban covering his shoulder-length dark brown hair. A bright contrasting long woven scarf was draped around his neck and hanging down over his shirt. He was Lord Chananda, father of the boys, brother in law to the lady and a member of one of the leading families of the Katayy. Lady Startuckus felt honored to sponsor his visit to her aviary.
Echoing her thoughts, the tall lord looked at the lady and bowed gravely, “Thank you, Lady Startuckus, for putting up with your nephews, my young sons.”
Lady Startuckus glanced into those wide luminescent gray eyes that so looked like his son’s,
“Lord, I am honored.”
She smiled as she detected a twinkle of amusement in the man’s gray eyes and a ghost of a smile on his rosy lips. She thought it was remarkable just how dark the complexions of the high caste Katayyan were with their tanned reddish complexions, black or brown hair and bright wide eyes. She, herself, had a delicate soft peach complexion and the light brown hair found in most of the Taali of Naara.
The boy’s father was visiting Naara to collect the children and return with them to their home world of Kashta. Their visit to Naara was to be able to enjoy a world without war, if only for a short time. Soon both, especially the oldest boy, Delos, would be starting full-time instruction. Currently, Delos was being tutored in preparation for entering university in Sirust. Then he would enter the Ashkerian Space Fleet, to be further mentored by his elder brother, Lord Jychondria, who was currently the Ash Tar or Supreme Head Commander.
Lord Chananda wanted his boys to have a memory from their childhood that was filled with joy. This visit to Naara was to see family and to enjoy the beauty of the one of the biospheres on this unusual planet. It was as if Lord Chananda knew there would not be much joy in the lives of his sons once they were old enough to enter the war effort. Kashta was under attack and the times were perilous at home, especially for those who stood on the front lines. Lord Chananda expected nothing less from both his sons given the gifts they had both brought into their present incarnation. He knew they were both meant to be warriors.
Many years had passed since that short visit to Naara. Both boys had become men. Delos had mated his long–time soulmate, Lady Anya. After the passage of several years, Delos and Anya were blessed with a son whom they named Aman and later on, another son called Rojé. Despite his growing family, Delos was a warrior, first and foremost. He continued to work and study under the mentorship of his elder brother, Commander Jychondria. He had progressed in his training to the rank of a second level commander but requested an opportunity to widen his horizons. He had heard about a new Pleiadian commander whom he felt would give him additional training that would prepare Delos for his future position as Head Commander after his brother Jychondria retired.
(At this point, the ‘voice’ of the story passes to Delos…)
I have begun to remember my time studying with a great Pleiadian leader, Lord Lyonell. Commander Lyonell, who was not born a Pleiadian, was king and lord over the Suriya Star System, his own small solar system, a system consisting of five moons and three planets. When the Nebu forces from the nearby aggressive and expanding Orion empire began to attack their small star system, Lord Lyonell appealed to the growing Pleiadian fleet for protection.
At this time, early in the conflict with the Nebu, the Galactic Federation had not yet been formed; that came much later. However, individual cultures and planets did make treaties to work and support each other especially after the attacks from the Nebu and their allies became more violent and intrusive.
During this early period of the Orion wars, the Errahel from the planet Erra in the Ashaara star system were leaders in manning the defenses of the local Pleiadian space. These people were descendants from the Ahel who had left their home world of Maya in the Man system due to the depredations of the Ciakahrr Reptilians and their attack the original home worlds of Lyra. These tall, well-built Nordic-type humans had terraformed their home planet, Erra, creating a beautiful world filled with a wide variety of climate zones and environments. Nine other planets were also terraformed in the Ashaara system creating a planetary system of ten worlds, four of which were inhabited.
The Errahel were joined by their Man cousins, the Taali of T-Marhu. Although smaller than Erra, the planet T-mar was considered the administrative center for the Ashaara system. In the Man system, the royal family had ruled from their original home world of Oman Khera. So, in their new home, the Taali of T-Mar, created a new royal family, formed of the union of a female royal descendant and a military hero.
A third planet was inhabited by the Noor, giant white-blonde, blue-eyed humans who stood over 8 feet tall in height. The Noor also aligned themselves with their cousins the Ahel and the Taali in forming up the beginnings of a Pleiadian star fleet to defend their worlds.
While the Ahel and Taali were cousins, there did exist some differences in these people. In general, the Taali of the Ashaara system resonated at a lower frequency level than their Errahel cousins due to their alimentary practices – they still ate flesh. They were also more ascetic in nature than their Ahel cousins. Being at a lower frequency level, the Taali were more susceptible to being infiltrated by low density beings such as Greys and Reptilians. Therefore, the Taali usually worked in the background during military operations, acting as scientists and support for the warriors.
As a result of this organization among the Pleiadians, I, Delos, found myself working primarily with an Ahel crew, although we also had Taali from T-mar who acted as support crew, in communications, navigation, research and development and so on. Noor humans also sometimes accompanied the forays, as these large-statured beings proved to be doughty warriors although shorter-lived in comparison to their Ahel cousins.
What was unusual about Lord Lyonell and his people was that they were members of a subspecies of a Feline humanoid race or what we called a Laan, yet another human race originally from the Lyran system. All of the human races from Lyra were expert geneticists and often interbred with other species in order to adapt to a new world. They also experimented with their own genetics, creating and manipulating their physical forms in new ways. This characteristic was especially true of this Laan people.
These Laan had chosen to accentuate the Feline features and characteristics already carried by their unique race. As a result, these Laan were taller than some of their near cousins found in other star systems throughout the galaxy, with strong, muscular bodies, with long tails, short tawny body hair, and short bushy manes. Their facial features were longer and broader than a typical human, with wide cheekbones, long, flattish noses, wide mouths without much lip, prominent canines, and darkly rimmed large golden eyes. Above the eyes there were prominent ridges protecting the eye socket and with fine tawny fur covering the forehead and extending to the mane. As a result of their genetic manipulation and self-identification as felines, they began to call themselves Felines.
It was from our Pleiadian allies, the Errahel of Erra and Taali of T-mar, that I originally learned about Lord Lyonell. When the Suriya System, as his solar system was then known, entered the Pleiadian Star Federation, he requested to be allowed to enter the Command, as well. Within a few short years, he proved his value as he began to teach the Pleiadians how to turn the tables on the enemy. With his natural feline hunting skills, great courage and intelligence, Lord Lyonell taught the Pleiadians the art of space guerilla warfare or how to outflank the enemy. The Pleiadians no longer merely defended their home territory; they pursued the enemy relentlessly from their skies.
Lord Lyonell was an impressive specimen of his highly intelligent and psychic race. Clad in his silvery-white Pleiadian uniform, he stood over nine feet tall in height, broad in the shoulder, with a deep chest from which a a deep growly baritone emanated often ringing through the corridors. He was a man you either respected or hated…
At the time of our meeting, Lord Lyonell with his powerful leonine frame towered well over my slender six-foot height. Yet, despite the differences in our physiques and cultural backgrounds, we instantly took to each other and became great friends.
In meeting with Lord Lyonell and training under his direction, I was completing my training to become the Head Commander over the now impressive Ashkerian Starfleet. During the intervening years between my previous death and subsequent rebirth, under the stewardship of my elder brother, Lord Jychondria, the Ashkerian fleet had grown, in size and strength. We had learned much from war whether we wanted to or not for our people were determined to survive.
It was still a tough time for the Pleiadians as they had a large star system. What’s more, the Pleiadians had enemies in the form of some of their own cousins, the Shiar Taali of Jayha.
During the initial terraforming of the planets in the Ashaara system, some of the Taali became upset they had not been granted ownership to Erra, the largest planet terraformed as they deemed their right.This renegade group of Taali, angered at being put off by their Ahel and Noor cousins and the remainder of the Taali of T-mar, decided to create their own solar system. They chose to settle in the Jayha (aka “Alcyone”) star system. There they terraformed two planets and immediately handed one over to relatives of the Ciakahrr Reptilians, the very aggressive race that had initially sent the Taali fleeing from their home world of Oman Khera (“Man central power”) in the Man system. The result of this insurrection was that the people in the Ashaara system had to watch out for possible attacks from their own cousins, the Taali of their new world, who brazenly referred to themselves as the Taal Shiar, “Taal main-world-ones”, and named their planet “Taalihara”. Resentful of their Taygetan brothers, these vengeful Taali ended up aligning with the enemy, the Orion Greys or Nebu and the Ciakahrr, both deadly enemies of humanity. As a consequence, our Pleiadian patrols had to keep an eye out for unfriendly humans as well as regressive Greys and Reptoids, which complicated matters for my own people, the Katayy and our allies from Morga, the T-Ashkeru.
For over two years, I spent training under Lord Lyonell and actively participating as a crew member aboard a Pleiadian ship. I found the company very refreshing and different from the stricter Ashkerian protocol, but I never lost sight of what I was trying to accomplish by being on board The Golden Lion, as the mothership commanded by Lord Lyonell was called.
From Lord Lyonell I learned techniques of hunting and attacking without being detected by the enemy until the last minute, when it was already too late. It was determined by the Errahel warriors that the enemy was determined to destroy, conquer, or infiltrate their planets by utilizing different tactics. We had to return in kind while keeping ourselves in alignment with Cosmic Law. We had a duty and right to defend our people and territory, to protect our cultures and way of living.
Being among these extraordinary warriors, I came to relish my time training under the command of Lord Lyonell. This Laan commander was magnificent, sharing his stories, and making sure that all the people under his command were battle-ready, but also healthy and strong. His generosity with his time and knowledge impressed me, as well as his great wisdom garnered from a long life of leading his own independent people. His people were admirable, tall, strong, their long, lean bodies covered with short golden fur, covered now by the standard issue Pleiadian silver-colored uniform and calf-high soft boots. They were also extremely talented psychics, sensitive to frequencies, telepathic, and often empathic to a high degree. While they still ate flesh, primarily fish and eggs, they still managed to retain a higher frequency level than their distant Taali cousins.
Being a creative people, some of the Laan wore tribal markings; beadwork braided through their tawny manes, as well as tattoos on their sculpted angular faces with the distinctive high cheekbones and lined golden eyes. Lord Lyonell wore none of these, only a small badge on his chest giving his designation as a Commander and a tiny crown indicating his rank on his home planet. It was enough; we all knew who he was anywhere on board the gigantic mothership; it was enough to listen for his booming bass voice carrying through the hallways and on the command deck.
Besides instructing me and others on battle techniques, Lord Lyonell also augmented my own already considerable abilities to discern energy signatures. Generous with his time, Lyonell sometimes practiced with a couple of younger commanders including my humble self well after quitting hours to allow us time to learn to recognize a different signature and to track down the source.
Despite our efforts, occasionally there were enemy attacks made on isolated communities on T-mar. One day, I was sent out with a patrol to survey the damage and to see if there were any survivors who required assistance or rescuing. Coming upon the wreckage of a small farming community, we landed our scout ships and began a careful survey of the area, breaking into teams of two to three men.
I was with two Errahel warriors when the group’s technician noted an energy signature on his device and signaled to the rest of the group. There was at least one survivor in the vicinity; we just had to find her. What we saw made our stomachs clench… a woman was sprawled out on the ground. Her clothes were torn, her face and what we could see of her body bruised and swollen. She had been raped and brutalized viciously…that much was obvious.
She was barely coherent but managed to grab up a hidden knife and aim it at the first man who walked up; she knew how to defend herself. The officer kicked it away and bent down, speaking to her softly, moving closer. She tried to crawl away and then stopped and stared directly at me.
“Who are you? These are Errahel…but who…what are you?”
Most of the men accompanying me on the survey were pure blooded Errahel, white-blonde, with bright blue eyes, with solid, muscular builds and generally taller in stature than my own slender height. As a Katayyan Taal, I stood out from the other doughty warriors as I was slenderer in build, shorter in stature with dark hair and light gray eyes. Only the technician looked similar to me, being a Taali from T-mar, and therefore, closer in appearance to me than the rest of my companions.
I signed to the other men, wait there, and then approached the wounded woman slowly, carefully, with my weaponless hands fully exposed in front of my body. I directed a telepathic message to the wounded female, emphasizing our friendly intentions towards her and any other survivors.
I also sent a stream of calming energies towards the woman who was now endeavoring to sit up. I saw her sense the energies and intent of my greeting and began to relax. It was a useful skill that my Father had taught me, mostly to use around frightened animals or children, but it also worked on people in need.
I got down on my knees at her side when I sensed that her mind was now opened to receiving help. She then startled me by abruptly reaching out and placing her hands on either side of my face. Instinctively I attempted to pull back but then stopped the motion as she began to send a series of relentless images directly into my consciousness, searing images: Night, they came in the night…burning, shooting at people… (Sob) they grabbed the children, all the children and some of the women, killed the men…
The images she sent into my consciousness were far more graphic than I care to share here. Then she drew my face down to hers. Dirty, her face streaked with tears, bloody with scratches, she looked wildly into my eyes and conveyed her despair: I saw what they were going to do with the children; I saw it in their ugly minds…! The female children would be sold as slaves; the males, sold to the Ciakahrr and other reptoids who had a taste for human flesh…
With the last horrible images etched across my consciousness, she sighed, and then fell into a faint. I signaled to one of the other men to bring a stretcher. The woman would need immediate care.
The men were horrified that these things were happening to their people, to the innocent ones…to anyone. I conveyed my thoughts to them, although I wasn’t in command and not Pleiadian. I sent my recommendations telepathically: Let us survey the rest of the village and see if there are any other survivors. Then we must take this woman back with us to the mother ship so she can receive medical care and healing.
The captain looked at me with amusement. You’re not one of us…
Does it matter? She is a human being and needs help, came my immediate retort.
The captain nodded in agreement. He gave orders to his two of his men, the medics: Do as the Katayyan suggests. Take the woman on board the scout ship. If she wakes during transport, give her some liquids and keep her warm; she’s in shock and is badly hurt.
The community was a small one, just a few farms so the survey was finished quickly. I wondered if the woman we rescued was the one who managed to send for help.
Yes…came the faint telepathic reply. I am the only one… I couldn’t save them!
Fortunately, the woman survived her wounds. She was a tough one, a farmer’s wife. As she recovered on the return trip, I proceeded to quietly make friends with San’ai as she called herself. The woman had an excellent talent for observation, was quite intelligent and possessed a strong will to live. She described what she termed as a slave ship that had landed smaller shuttles on the edge of her small village. The enemy forces landed at night perhaps aided by technology to seek out their prey when most of the families would be asleep. Creating chaos and confusion, the enemy forces quickly flushed out the adults, separating women and children from the males. The Pleiadian males were slaughtered even as the enemy forces searched through the remaining females and children. San’ai managed to slip away from her captors, but then recaptured and brutalized. Her captors then left her lying there bleeding, perhaps thinking she would succumb from her wounds, which although grave were not immediately life-threatening. I was of the opinion that the enemy wanted their victims to be whole in order to obtain a good price when they were sold.
When we returned to the mothership, I spoke personally with Commander Lyonell after he had been briefed by the Pleiadian crew. The lord was standing in his conference room, next to the large chair that he usually sat in during planning meetings. He stretched his long arms up, much like a smaller cat, yawned, and then gave me a penetrating look with his golden eyes. He queried me on the expedition: So, what did you think about that little trip, Katayyan?
In a swift flood of images, I conveyed what we had encountered, the woman and her story, what I thought should be done to better defend these more communities… and finally, to recommend that the woman be given the option of joining the fleet as ground support crew (women were not allowed on the ships as crew members in those days). San’ai was tough, a fighter, intelligent, and well suited to be of use…and her family was gone, her way of life destroyed. When I was done with my report, I added: Now, I see why I need to continue this fight and do whatever is necessary to keep my people safe!
Lyonell was silent for a moment, and then he yawned, again… Sorry, I need some rest; I’ve been on duty since 0600.
He paused, looking at me thoughtfully, and said: You know…the captain was right about you. You have a natural air of command and a degree of compassion and understanding that not many warriors possess. I foretell that you will go far in your Ashkerian fleet; that someday, you may even be its head commander!
He was very prescient about my future… a mere twenty years later; I was the head commander of the Ashkerian fleet… until the day of my last battle.
Some weeks later, the young Katayyan commander was in the process of pondering a puzzle put forth by his mentor. For a moment he allowed his gaze to fall upon his companion. Due to their great size and fierce appearance, these Laan people were utilized even on his own world of Kashta often as guards for the palaces of the great although the Katayyan people did not fear violence from their own kind.
However, this adopted Pleiadian who now stood nearby, gazing out a window into the dark skies beyond, was different. Commander Lyonell had taken the entire Pleiadian fleet under his spell through his dominating personality, commanding wit and intelligence. His psychic abilities were extraordinary. His memory was astounding. His entire being exuded tremendous power and ability, and yet, there were moments of extreme tenderness and concern where the Commander reached out to aid and comfort a crew member when they learned of a death in their family or an incident on their home world. The man was not without a deep and abiding sense of compassion for all who came within his sphere of influence. And so, it was when the young Ashkerian commander suddenly gasped in surprise and grief, the Commander moved quickly with his characteristic feline grace to the man’s side.
“What is wrong, Commander Delos?” It had been months since Delos had arrived on the Pleiadian ship, The Golden Lion, for training alongside Commander Lyonell, but the Laan commander retained his formality when it was required.
The commander’s great golden eyes studied his Ashkerian companion. The young man… young in terms of Katayyan years… was tall and slender. His reddish-brown skin was blanched, his gray eyes bright with tears and shock. He whispered, his voice taut and strained with emotion, “Tazo… my brother… his ship is under attack!”
“What do you see?”, queried Commander Lyonell. The Pleiadian commander knew of the Katayyan’s deep connection with his family, especially his younger brother. Apparently, the young men had spent many lifetimes together, often as twins. In this life, Delos was the elder, their ages separated by some five years. Still, the soul connection ran deep and powerful between the two siblings.
“I…I…”, Delos blinked, again, tears splashing down his cheeks unheeded. He looked within and saw…
The ship was jolted by another barrage, sending debris everywhere. It was hard to see through the dust and confusion. Tazo grabbed onto a railing to pull himself upright and was thrown again against the bulkhead. His ears were streaming blood from the impact. As he stumbled down the passageway, he bumped into another crew member. “Carlos? Are you okay?”
Carlos looked up at his commander, and then looked down the slanting corridor towards the command deck a short distance away. “The ship is going down, sir?”
Tazo nodded abruptly and turned back to his command post, striving to steady himself on nearby stations. The view monitors were no longer functioning, but the trajectory of the ship was obvious; they were about to crash into the planet below.
He scanned the planet with his extended senses. It was only lightly populated, another moon on the outer fringes of the Ashkerian star system. He could sense the ships attacking his vessel were coming in for the kill. No! He would land this ship if it took all he had within. Telepathically he connected with the Command Mothership, “Comrades, we are under attack! We are now entering the atmosphere of Janas, a moon of Satus.”
The reply came swiftly, “Commander Tazo, we are aware of your situation. An attack squadron is on the way!”
As Tazo turned his attention to the navigation post, he felt his brother tuning into the situation. “Brother…”
Tazo felt Delos nod as their minds melded in their own unique way. He felt his brother’s strength and determination flow into his bruised body. He focused on the controls in front of him and took control of the faltering vessel, bringing her back into alignment. He knew that damaged as she was, they could not escape via hyperspace and needed to land on the moon. Whether or not any of his crew would survive depended on how quickly help arrived. The ship was too damaged to go far.
The ship shuddered as another barrage struck the outer hull. Tazo began to cough. He sniffed the air as the air quality sensor began to sound off. He scanned the ship. Fire! He attempted to contact other surviving crew members. One familiar mind contacted with his own, “Jon, there is a fire on board!”
“I know, sir,” replied Jon, one of the navigation staff. “It’s in the engine room, sir!”
Unlike the more sophisticated Pleiadian vessels who utilized crystalline energy, some of the smaller Ashkerian ships still required fuels. This scout vessel was such a one, not outfitted for long distance travel outside the star system. The Ashkerian fleet was in the process of obtaining ships with more advanced propulsion systems built by the T-Ashkeri, their allies on Morga, but that took time, supplies and manpower. Under attack from many sides by the enemy, the Ashkerians could ill afford to lose even this small vessel.
“Take care of it, Jon!” Tazo ordered telepathically, knowing his loyal crew member would do what he asked. He felt the assurance and determination as the crew member went off to gather other men to repair the ship’s engine array.
Tazo gritted his teeth and concentrated on the controls. As he passed his hand above them, the dials glowed. With his strong mental abilities, he guided the vessel towards a likely landing spot on the surface of the moon. Fortunately for the Ashkerians and their ship, the moon was primarily an agricultural planet, mostly flat or gently rolling country broken up by low fences or scattered farm family compounds. Dividing his consciousness between the rapidly approaching planet surface and the controls, he guided the ship towards a landing spot.
Just before the ship landed, it shuddered from another hit once again. This time the blow sent the vessel into a spin. Tazo was thrown against the bulkhead. Dazed he tried to concentrate on the task, when the vessel came to an abrupt halt on its side. Tazo crawled to his feet. The smoke from the fire was stronger now. He sent an order to evacuate the vessel, “Now!”
As Tazo and a few other men stumbled out the landing ramp, they came under fire from an enemy vessel that was above strafing the ground around the vessel. As he glanced up, Tazo felt something strike his leg, sending him crashing to the ground. Smoke billowed out of the Ashkerian vessel. The men needed to get clear, but the attack drove them closer to the wounded vessel as they sought cover. Tazo was now coughing hard. He covered his mouth with his hand only to pull it away in dismay. His hand was covered with blood. It was internal bleeding from some wound that he had not even registered in the flight. He swayed and then pulled himself upward as another crew member reached out to support his weight.
A sudden piercing mind scream crashed through his sensitive consciousness and he managed to peer skyward. A dazzling light broke through the dusty atmosphere and hit the attacking enemy ship. Help had arrived! The drone of other Ashkerian ships began to fill his ears. His men were going to be safe!
Tazo then crumpled to the ground, exhausted, bleeding from internal injuries and coughing from heavy smoke inhalation. Just as another Ashkerian ship landed beside his wounded vessel, he fell unconscious.
Delos knew his brother was dying. He had sustained life-threatening injuries and was experiencing internal bleeding, dropping into an unconscious state. Later, Delos’ impressions were confirmed by a report from his father on Kashta. His father wrote that Tazo died later of his wounds in medical unit. His men and his family grieved for this loss. His brother, Delos, so far away from home, grieved also.
Commander Delos broke off contact with his dying brother. He cried out silently, “Father!”
“I AM Chananda. My son… you know?” Delos felt the presence of his great Father surrounding him with a blanket of warm love and concern.
“Yes, Father; I saw everything…”
“Ah… of course you would. The binding ties of love are strong between the two of you.”
Delos felt another presence intrude into his inner dialogue, “What has happened, Commander Delos?”
The Ashkerian commander looked around at his surroundings in confusion for a second or two and then regained his composure. He nodded to the Pleiadian Commander, “Lord Lyonell, my brother has been wounded in battle.”
Lyonell’s golden eyes rested upon his Ashkerian companion with compassion. He queried: “Is your brother gravely wounded?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the younger man. “He is dying. They are taking him home to Sirust even now.”
Lyonell rested his large hand upon the Katayyan’s slender shoulder, “Then you will be going home now?”
Delos looked out the viewing screen at the scintillating nebula clouds their vessel was moving through and thought for a moment. Then he turned to the Laan commander, shaking his head fiercely, he replied: “No, sir… my Father will understand. I must complete my training here with you. I will honor my brother later.”
The shrewd golden eyes of the Pleiadian searched the young commander’s determined face. He thought to himself: “Hmmm, our mutual enemy has made a mistake in attacking a member of this young man’s family…”
He was right. Within twenty years, the young Ashkerian became the Head Commander of the Ashkerian Star Fleet and never looked back.
In a Pool of Light
The young priest was sunk deep into a meditative state. He was sitting on floor with his legs crossed. A shaft of light illuminated his pale features in golden light. He was dressed in a simple short woven brown robe, with loose white trousers, a white loose shirt beneath his open robe. Head bent in thought, one gold earring glinted from his left ear, peeking from beneath his white blonde shoulder-length hair. His long slender feet were bare, a gesture of humility as he sought to clear his mind of the emotions that arose from his last meeting with his oft-absent father, the head commander of the Ashkerian Fleet.
He fought to suppress the anger and frustration that seemed to rise like an angry snake whenever he confronted his father. Ironically, he was tired of feeling this way and so he sought to reach deep into the depths of his being, seeking out the gate to the sacred space that his mentors spoke of with great awe.
Like a drowning man, Aman sunk deeper into meditation, breathing slowly, his consciousness gradually losing touch with his physical surroundings… the towering hall outside the smaller side chapel, the massive golden columns, the sweet smoky scent of incense…the distant chimes marking the hour…the soft repetitive chants of pilgrims who were visiting the great Temple. Gradually, a golden light surrounded the focus of his awareness and carried his attention beyond his body, out into the skies above the vast city, and beyond. He floated in a sea of light surrounding his light body, bathing him in warmth like a mother’s love, filling with strength from the divine essence of Source.
His consciousness was guided on by unseen guides until he floated above the great star of Ashkera through the space filled with glittering stardust. He could see all twelve worlds, large and small circling the complex trio of the great blue-white Ashkera accompanied by its largest planet, beautiful Kashta; the smaller solar presence of Thula the white dwarf accompanied by its companion planet Morga; and beyond was Emerya, the dark dwarf, smallest of the local stars. Like tiny pearls, the lesser planets and moons followed their great stars like glittering necklaces.
As he gazed upon the sight, his attention was drawn by flashes of light and the feeling of grave danger; a battle was taking place on the periphery of the system. His father’s fleet was engaged in yet another confrontation with their relentless enemy from the Nebu of the Orion Empire and their greedy, regressive allies, the Maytra, Eban, the Grail and other Grey-reptoids.
In his neutral state of observation, he wondered what he could do to assist his father and the many sons of Kashta and other worlds who fought these battles day after day. He admitted to himself that his father was right; he wasn’t suited for war, but as a Son of Light, surely, he could accomplish something. He could feel the surety of this knowledge within his entire being. There had to be a way. He knew it, just knew it.
Feeling the slight but insistent tug upon his silver cord, Aman hesitated for a moment, gazing upon the star system, the home that he loved. And then he let go and swiftly returned to his body that was slumped over in the quiet chapel. For a moment he kept his eyes closed, relishing the visions he had just experienced within his meditation, and then breathing out a deep sigh, he opened his gray eyes and looked around. Dusk was swiftly falling; it was time to attend to his meditation.
In the middle of the night, Aman awoke from a disturbed sleep to see a figure of a tall blue-skinned being dressed in an golden high-collared robe standing at the foot of his bed in his modest quarters. Intuitively he knew this Being was one of his own ancestors from Vega. His youthful curiosity piqued, Aman sat up and watched the golden fingers of the figure draw geometric shapes in the air, the patterns remaining visible for a few moments and then disappearing. Then, the shapes reversed upon themselves. A few minutes later, the shapes reversed yet again. Aman recognized a pattern, a rhythm to the process. It was an oscillation forcefield…would that protect their world? How could it be reproduced to be large enough to encompass Kashta? The nameless figure smiled and pointed to its own heart and made a circle with its hand that lingered in the air as the figure itself disappeared into the gloom.
In the morning, Aman was inpatient to complete his priestly duties so he could visit his grandfather, Lord Chananda, who he regarded as one of the most intelligent and compassionate individuals in Kashta. He often visited his grandfather, sometimes to confess his confusion over his father’s activities in the Ashkerian fleet. Lord Chananda always simply looked deep into his grandson’s gray eyes and stated: “Your father is doing what he came here for…”
Aman was finally released from his last duty and headed down the hill from the great Temple where he served towards the House of the Ancient of Days, where the head of his family resided. Lord Chananda, was one of the high lords of Kashta, descended from the original Taal aristocracy of Oman Khera, the original home word of the Taali. The lord resided in comfortable sprawling house that was part of the vast complex filled with several generations of family members. Lord Chananda enjoyed spending time in his personal gardens when he was not attending to official events and duties; however, today, the Lord was not present in the fragrant garden. A servant told Aman that his grandfather was attending a gathering of dignitaries in the great audience hall of the House.
Disappointed, Aman nevertheless headed in that direction, first making a stop at his own quarters that he used when visiting to change into more suitable garments. The court was very particular about dress. Everyone except his own father, Commander Delos, obeyed these strict rules and protocols. Delos seemed to follow his own inner piper and continued to dress simply when off-duty, primarily in white garments that were more suitable to a working man. Aman found this peculiar trait of his father’s to be particularly irritating, feeling that it was an insult to his mother, the Lady Anya and to his grandfather, Lord Chananda. Still, the source of the chronic irritation was far from his consciousness today; he wanted to share a vision with his Grandfather.
Following a long gallery above the great Court, Aman joined his uncle Jychondria and aunt Arianna, who were observing the audience taking place below. These relatives were related to the first lifetime of Lord Delos, but both being long-lived were still present when Delos returned to them in a second incarnation. Aman understood that reincarnation into specific families was a trait in many families of the Katayy, but especially in the higher caste. His aunt and uncle were honored for having raised the children of Tazo and Delos when they died in the explosion in the early part of the battles that spilled over from the Orion sector into the space near their own star systems.
Aman halted near his relatives and made a simple obeisance to his uncle and aunt and then turned to survey the crowd, leaning on the railing and watching the scene below. The young man could see his grandfather, Lord Chananda, standing to the right side of his great father, the spiritual leader of all Kashta, who was speaking to some dignitaries from Erra in the Ashaara system. Two towering brawny men accompanied the diplomat. Even to Aman’s prejudiced eyes, he knew them to be warriors, dressed in their silvery white metallic Command uniforms, covered with long formal white cloaks and wearing calf-high white boots. The insignias of their rank and family were emblazoned above their hearts.
A ranking member of the DeAir family was also present. The DeAirs were high up in the secular branch of the Kashta government. This family were also descendants of some of the original Taali settlers on Kashta, people who were once nobles on their original home world of Oman Khera in the Man system.
Aman was curious as to what was being discussed, but there was a seal of privacy around the discussion. Telepathic speech could not interfere with the presentation until a certain degree of secrecy was no longer required. Aman had a sense that the visit involved the desire of the Pleiadians to recruit more men and perhaps even ships for their still-growing Command.
Aman knew so much about the Pleiadians as his father, Lord Delos, had spent two years training under one of their top commanders, the famous Lord and Commander Lyonell. From Delos’ shared impressions, Aman knew the commander was quite prominent in instructing even his adopted Pleiadians on how to fight this strange enemy, the aggressive Nebu forces. Perhaps it was something in the Laan bloodline that assisted one in coming up with the unique and innovative techniques for searching out their quarry and scanning the space frequencies for disturbances. The priest shook his head as if to clear it of all references to his father and returned his attention to the scene below.
Since the faces of the Pleiadians conveyed some disappointment that even he could discern from above, Aman knew the plea for men had been denied. The Ashkerian fleet was maxed out with all the smaller attacks coming from multiple directions these days. Aman knew that his father worried about the possibility of a large attack being directed against the great city of Sirust itself, a thrust to the heart of the star system and its government. Despite himself, Aman felt for his father, the heavy weight of command that he had exercised for so long with little respite.
A movement below caught his eye…the tall Errahel warriors were bowing to the Katayyan leaders, his own grandfather, and the representative of the DeAir Family. The warriors turned to leave the audience chamber. As they came parallel to where Aman was standing, he met the up glance from one of the taller Errahel, a brawny and bronzed individual with golden hair and great blue eyes. Aman stepped back in surprise when the man winked at him and then continued walking with his companions towards the exit door to the great hall.
Who was that? He wondered to himself. A shiver ran through him for the man looked familiar even though he had never seen him before in this life, yet he knew him, a kind of soul recognition his priestly mentors sometimes spoke off. Yet, Aman didn’t have time to wonder as he saw his grandfather moving towards a side door that would lead him to the private family quarters within the great dwelling place. Again, making a sketchy obeisance to his elder relatives, Aman dashed off along the gallery as fast as his feet would carry him without injuring his priestly dignity and pride.
Aman reached his grandfather’s private rooms just after the older man had settled into a comfortable couch to rest. Lord Chananda looked up as his grandson strode in without being announced; his flustered housekeeper tried to stop the young man, but the lord smiled and waved her away. His grandfather appeared fatigued and slightly irritated. He said: What is it, Aman, that you can’t wait a minute?
His grandson blurted out his news: “Grandfather, I’ve had a vision!”
Lord Chananda gave another sigh and replied, “Aman—men of our family have many visions; what is so special about yours that you come barging in when I’m about to rest a while. Standing in the audience hall isn’t the most entertaining of activities!
Aman blushed at his audacity. His grandfather was a scion of one of the highest houses in Sirust and a man of great learning and wisdom, highly respected by all. He bowed, and began to make his apologies, but the vision still had him in its thrall, so he began again, this time managing to convey the meat of his message: “I have seen a way we can protect our worlds!”
For what seemed a long moment, Chananda regarded his grandson with a skeptical look, his lightly colored brow raised over one luminescent gray eye. He studied the lad’s face and posture and deduced something out of the ordinary had gripped him, indeed. His telepathic reply was insistent: Tell me!
Aman conveyed the vision to his grandfather in a series of pictures, outlining the shapes traced in the air by the mysterious hand, their shape and motion. His grandfather looked on with interest as his grandson endeavored to communicate the consequences and potential of his vision. Finally, he completed his tale and looked over at the elder man: Well, what do you think?
Lord Chananda’s reply was immediate and sharp: Impertinent imp! I must think this over!
Aman looked with astonishment on his grandfather… who by his looks was not beyond his mid-thirties, but whom the boy knew was well past 2000 years of age and perhaps beyond. Still, with the sensitive nature of his lineage, the boy intuited a growing sense of excitement in the older man. When Chananda felt Aman staring at him impatiently, he waved him out of the room. Go, Aman… I must speak to my Father about this discovery!”
A bit later as he was walking down another corridor, Aman heard: Aman… thank you for this. I just hope it isn’t too late…”
The young priest heard no more as he walked slowly down the corridor to his own quarters so he might change into his priestly robes before returning to the Temple and his duties. What did Grandfather mean when he said, “too late”?
It was only in a place that he did not want to acknowledge that he knew and dreaded the answer to his own question – too late for his father, the impetuous and intense defender of Kashta, Lord and Commander Delos.
Soberly Aman walked down the long marble corridor, ignoring the gorgeous inlaid tiles and paintings of the beautiful palace. His conflicted feelings about his long-absent father returned, dimming the vision of the great meditation. While he was seldom comfortable in his company, Aman secretly admired and deeply loved the brave warrior who was lauded throughout Kashta, who did not let the praise go to his head, but focused on his mission, day in and day out, with little respite. And if he was honest with himself, Aman felt jealous of one who was so sure of his purpose and did his utmost to carry it out no matter what. It was the phrase “no matter what” that sent a shiver through his body, as Aman looked through the window in his room, his inner eyes seeing that distant fire fight, one of many in which his father and his forces participated. He could only hope to emulate in some small way the accomplishments of this man who had molded the Ashkerian star fleet into a great intergalactic fleet, with the latest technology and training from both the Katayy, the Ashkerians and Pleiadians, despite the tendency of the Ashkerians to want to cling to the old ways.
Aman headed back to the Temple, climbing the grand steps of the huge golden building and turning to admire the view over the sprawling city below, with each of the sections separated by high walls until reaching the outer grounds of the temple hills, the most sacred places in all of the great city of Sirust. Climbing the steps slowly, he made the resolution to do something of great value, if only to emulate his great father…
Again, in the middle of the night, Aman was wakened by his golden visitor… this time he looked at the glowing figure more closely. There was a distinct familiarity to its features. The being smiled sweetly and spoke to Aman: “Child of Light, due to your diligence, prayers, and concern for your people, you have been granted a dispensation that will benefit all; it will protect your world permanently from further threats of invasion and outside interference…”
“But how so, oh mighty One?” Aman now felt he had sufficiently identified his golden-clad stranger… his own great, great, great grandfather, a great lord of the Adari, the Taali of Vega. He was the Lord Vishnu, who had gone into the Light years ago. “Lord Vishnu?”
“Speak to your Grandfather and Great Grandfather and the great Council of Kashta. A great meditation must be given forth for all the people of your world to participate within, as all will be affected by the forcefield that is co-created through this great effort. I will communicate myself with your kin to prepare them.”
“But, but… grandfather, what will the forcefield do?”
“It will raise the frequency of this people, this planet, forever removing you from interference by lower density enemies!”
For a moment, Aman was stunned…and then another thought interfered: What would happen to his father and the fleet if they engaged the enemy fleet so close to Sirust.
Aman blurted out his question to the great Light Being: “What of my father and the Fleet?”
The glance of the blue-skinned, golden-clad Light Being was neutral, but filled with compassion. It replied gently: “For your father, we can do nothing; his fate is sealed by his own hand, but the great Fleet will survive what is coming…”
Despite his priestly hard-won self-discipline, Aman felt tears start in his eyes at the judgment against his father. His visitor, sensing his distress, continued, “Do not fret about your father; what he is about to do is brave beyond measure; foolish, but brave. He is about to go into battle to give your people more time to prepare, although he does not know this. In the end, he will be taken to a place of healing, where he will be without remembrance of this land and people for many years to come until such time when he is again at peace. Then it will be time to release this hidden burden of his heart…”
Aman felt confused and confessed: “I do not understand, Grandfather…”
Then came another compassionate answer that did not relieve his unexpected sorrow: “Do not worry for those whose time is nearly done here in this world; there are many more before them.”
The figure in Aman’s vision appeared more concrete for a moment, his golden clad form glittering in the moonlight, emanating a soft auric glow. The figure spoke once more: “Now for the meditation…watch! It will defend Kashta from your enemies and raise your frequencies to a place where they can no longer reach to harm your people…”
Using his highly trained ability to memorize and observe, Aman carefully watched the motions of his grand sire’s graceful long-fingered blue-skinned hands as they traced the mudras that would activate the great forcefield. And he absorbed the incantations and prayers to repeat to set the forcefield into perpetual motion, a great oscillating forcefield that would reverse on itself every few hours and would do so as long as the great Star Nation of the Katayy retained its alignment to Source.
As soon as he could, Aman conveyed the finer details of the great meditation to both his grandfather and great-grandfather. Now, it was up to the people to save their home world…
(the voice reverts to Delos, again)
In the years that followed the death of my younger brother Tazo and the completion of my training under the auspices of the Pleiadian Commander, Lord Lyonell, I had become a tough and canny warrior, succeeding in surprising our enemy many times. Thanks to my training in the “art” of war, I became hardened to its necessities. It was only when I visited my Father, Lord Chananda, when he took me aside to visit the grave of my brother, Tazo, that I allowed any emotion to overtake me. I made that pilgrimage every year on the day when my brother and his ship were shot down. Tazo died. I didn’t. I was far away and couldn’t save him. Any soldier would tell you that I was suffering from survivor’s guilt and they would be right… but we were too busy fighting to pause to think and consider what this seemingly endless war cost us personally and as a people.
One day my Father took me aside. I was on a well-needed break between campaigns to drive the enemy out of Ashkerian space. As I gazed upon my Father’s serene face, I knew that he had something of great significance to tell me. We were standing in a quiet garden, filled with the blossoms of pear trees and wisteria. I realized that spring had arrived and that I had been too preoccupied to see it, so much had I changed from the little boy who used to play in this same garden with his younger brother. I blinked back tears and concentrated on my Father’s compassionate light gray eyes.
“You still miss him, don’t you?” came my Father’s soft voice.
“Yes…and the others who have been lost to us,” I added, choking down my emotions. I was a commander and could not take the time to fully mourn all of whom had been lost in the years since the first enemy attacks had commenced over 400 years ago.
It may surprise some to know that at this moment it had been 300 years since my brother had died. I was a man full-grown, with two sons and daughter of my own. Due to our war status, Tazo had decided not to take a mate until after his 125th birthday. He died at 118 years. Depending on our caste, status, and life plan, our people lived typically from 300 to 700 years of age. Few made it to old age in these days, but I managed to preserve the family line in the persons of my sons, Aman and Rojé. My father was ageless, extremely long-lived, but such were the sons of Krishna of Vega, of a high spiritual evolution descended from the progenitors of our people, the Pa Taal. I was honored to be my father’s son, but personally felt I fell short of his high ideals and dedication to service and the people.
Delos, your mind wanders… Father’s deep resonant voice broke through my thoughts, once again.
Again, I looked into those clear gray eyes, so filled with Light and wisdom. I asked: “What is it, my Father?”
Lord Chananda smiled, startling me a bit. I stared at him closely. Yes, I detected a faint smile on his full crimson lips. His next words startled… and upset me even worst: “My son, we have discovered a way to protect our world.”
“How is that so?” I inquired with a skeptical tone.
The tall lord smiled, again, a bit wider as he replied: “It was through your own son, Aman, that this idea was conceived.”
Delos thought: “Ah, my son… the priest.”
The gray eyes like a shimmering pool twinkled as my Father looked at me. He replied in his calm telepathic voice: “Yes, the priest… who may have found a way to protect our world…forever!”
Now I was curious, but it was too late; I had already made my plans. Still, curiosity crept into my mind and I asked once more: “How so?”
Okay, now I was curious. I had not seen my son Aman for months. He spent most of his time in the great Temple that stood at the highest point of our great city, Sirust. This was the Temple dedicated to Krishna, the ancient son of Vishnu, one of the founders of the Taali colony on Adara in the Vega system. Our Katayy people regarded Krishna and Vishnu as saints. Our own family was descended from these wise and compassionate Beings. Some of our most devout claimed to often receive visions from these entities who had never lived upon Kashta, but whose spirits were closely bonded to our people no matter where the Taali wandered through Nataru.
My son Aman and I were often at odds and lately I had not attempted to see him at all. My younger son, Rojé, was already training to become a warrior when he came of age. However, my eldest Aman avoided me as he did not understand my motivations in going to war. It wasn’t that I loved war; no true warrior loves war. Yet, when my people were faced with certain annihilation at worst or infiltration by the sly Nebu forces with their insinuating ways. To protect my people, I had little choice. I wanted, needed to protect them in the only way I knew, by being a warrior. I had been born with certain gifts, skills, and talents — I was just good at fighting and leading men, strategy, tactics, outguessing the enemy, tuning into the frequencies, knowing when and where to strike.
I was doing what I could do where and when I was needed. I didn’t fear death — that was obvious especially in my last moments. I had incarnated onto Kashta for a specific mission – that much was clear to my Father and Grandfather, so they were understanding, even if there were those within my own family like my eldest son who did not fully approve or understand what it was, I felt compelled to do by a deep inner need to serve.
There were other matters that created friction between my son and me. For instance, the manner in which I dressed at home that bothered my son and insulted his finely tuned sense of decorum. As Head Commander, I pushed aside a lot of what I regarded insignificant issues in my fierce determination to focus on the matters at hand, keeping the people safe. Social protocol did not even enter my head for consideration.
Now there was simply no time left in which to heal the emotional wounds between Aman and myself. I was forced by circumstance to move on, to the next battle, the next alarm, the next thing that had to be done to prepare the fleet. After my elder brother, Commander Jychondria retired, I inherited his position and proceeded to make it my own. I was the Head Commander of the Ashkerian fleet, in charge, and so everything in my life including my long-suffering but patient mate, Anya, was relegated to the sidelines.
Any warrior will understand this driving need to protect and serve those he loves in the best way he knows, but unfortunately for the health of our relationship, my priestly son was not a warrior and so was repelled by what he judged was wrong, ungodly behavior. Even as war divides families today, so it did long ago in those early days of the Orion Wars, when the Ashkerian star nation faced an extremely dangerous enemy, the Nebu of the rapidly expanding, greedily grasping Orion Empire.
It is my understanding now, in retrospect, that perhaps my son, Aman, was confused by the thought of war, of death, and the destruction that it wrought. I sensed this disquiet within him in those days when he angrily refused to attend the academy to which I wanted to send him to prepare him for entering into the space force. Instead, he threw into my startled face his desire to become a priest and devote his life to praying, fasting, ascetic practices and asking forgiveness for his killer of a father. I was stunned at his outburst, but knew well enough what was behind it, so I let him pursue his desires. He became a priest, a good one… and one day he too would serve the people by engendering the idea of the forcefield that would eventually protect the planet of Kashta from invasion – but I didn’t know that at the time, didn’t have time to argue, and so I let him go. I sensed the inner core of my son’s fear of combat and understood. Warrior though I was, I also knew fear every time I went into battle. Yet, I felt compassion for my son and my men. I learned that, in part, from a great one, Commander and Lord Lyonell, of the Pleiadian fleet, one of my early mentors.
“Delos –?” My father’s voice penetrated my mind’s perambulations. “What do you think?”
I backed away from Lord Chananda and wearily asked him, point-blank, “How can we protect our people from these enemies of ours?”
The tall lord stepped away from his son’s side and pulled down a branch of a blooming pear tree so he might smell the flowers. His quiet reply astonished me: “We will collectively bring a forcefield into being using the mantras given to Aman by his great-great grandfather, Lord Vishnu. It will raise the density level of the entire planet if done correctly and with pure intent!”
I was astonished at his answer. It was true; our people were powerful psychics, but to collectively bring such a forcefield into being? I could not fathom it but felt my Father’s sincerity and belief that such a miracle could be achieved. I was dumbfounded, speechless.
For a moment, I pulled at a wisp of wisteria bloom that dangled in front of my eyes, staring blindly out at the garden I no longer saw in front of me… only seeing the countless dead who had died as a result of the attacks of a relentless enemy, the destruction of some of our minor planets, the devastation done to untold lives. I was appalled at what I regarded to be pure foolishness. In that moment, I had even lost faith in my beloved Father, who had ever been the source of wisdom and comfort for me, especially after the loss of my brother and the death of my mother a year later. My heart felt cold, removed… distant. Then I remembered my terrible purpose…
My voice… my telepathic voice…was cold and distant as I spoke to my Father. “I do not understand and now I must leave and say good-bye to my mate, Lady Anya, who awaits me in our quarters.”
I bowed abruptly, turned and nearly ran from the garden. I could feel my father’s disappointment in my rejection of the plan.
Before I reached our rooms, I slowed down, thinking, I should go back and apologize to my father.
Still, I continued, soon reaching the suite of rooms I shared with my mate, where we had raised our three children during the times when I was home between campaigns and battles. Anya stood there quietly. Her long dark brunette hair was gathered up into a matron’s bun, with one light tumble of curls resting on one shoulder. She was dressed in a beautiful pale pink sari embroidered with tiny blue flowers, with a minimum of jewelry, and her golden earrings dangling beneath her fine brown hair, golden bangles on her fine wrists, contrasting with her lovely golden tan skin.
She intuitively knew my different moods and so she spoke softly now. “You are leaving, again, my love?”
“Yes, my love,” I replied, tenderly, wondering at the sensitivity of this lovely woman who had shared my life for so many years. I traced her strong cheekbone with a forefinger. “We have had numerous reports of enemy ships gathering near our outer defenses. Since I am the Commander of the Fleet, I must go out myself and investigate.”
A pair of golden brown eyes gazed intently into my light gray eyes, bringing up the memory of my recent encounter with my Father. My mate, Anya, caught my thought, “You saw your Father today?”
“Yes.” She knew from my tone that the subject was closed for now, but still she ventured a question, “Did he tell you of our plans?”
I stared at her somewhat sharply. She started back and then regained her composure. Anya had been brought up with the most exquisite of manners.
“Ah,” was all she said. She understood that I did not approve, but then she would. She knew me well, having been a soul mate of mine through many lifetimes together, strung back even as far back as when our people had fled the ravaged planet of Oman Khera.
“When do you leave?” she asked, changing the subject.
I replied, “Tomorrow morning.” I continued on relentlessly, “The command mothership, The Golden Lily, is returning from its latest cruise to Thula. They’re going to pick me up by shuttle at the star base outside of Sirust.”
Anya nodded; her delicate face subdued. I knew that she suffered whenever I was gone long and for that I was sorry, but I was a warrior and knew my duty. Or at least I thought I knew it… As a high caste woman of Kashta, Anya also knew her duty. I was sorry for what she was about to go through, but I knew that she would do so with all the grace and dedication to our customs that she could muster. The pain she might endure, I could not… did not want to think about…
What I did not tell my relatives, what I could not tell them were my plans for an all-out offensive against our enemy. The plan was to remove their presence from our star system forever. I knew I was going into battle, yet I hesitated to share the knowledge that I would not be returning, ever again to these people I loved. I was going to my death.
When Lord Delos devised his last strategy, it was more out of desperation and lack of time to prepare the people for what was about to descend on them within a space of days, a full-out invasion force of the Nebu fleet with the intent to kill or conquer his people completely. After so long, he knew the energy frequency and patterns of the enemy, how they thought, where they were stationed, what planets they had managed to conquer, and what planets they had managed to destroy, rape or pillage in their goal of ultimate conquest of this galaxy. As a reasonable person, Delos did not understand or comprehend the source of this unbridled lust for conquest, but, thanks to his mentors and his people’s faith in his abilities and skill, he did his best to counteract the infection given his people’s resources. After so many years of attrition in the population, so many needless deaths, the people of Ashkera were exhausted and traumatized by the senseless onslaught. So, the exhausted commander pulled one last trick out of the basket and played it, by a selfless loving sacrifice, acting as the warrior he was to use what tactics he could to draw out the enemy and by doing so, destroy them.
The young second commander looked at the stern pale angular features of Lord Delos’ countenance with some concern. He had known the head commander for some time, and had known of him for longer, the brilliant tactician and strategist, his uncanny way of knowing exactly where they would find the enemy ships; yet he knew better than to idolize his complex self-contained superior. Still, something was off… he feared for his commander’s sanity as he quietly observed the head commander sitting on a bench staring at the floor and lost in thought. He… he was so somewhere else…
Jon? His commander’s deep telepathic voice resonated through his mental body. It was the quality of the voice and presence that defined Lord Delos from every other member of the large crew.
Aye, sir? The second commander waited patiently until the other man’s attention returned to the room around him from wherever or whenever he had been in meditation. Then he braced his legs to steady his body as the head commander’s orders flowed like a great overpowering river through his mind. What? Why? Where? He shook his head at the audacity of the plans. Another question: You want me to take command, sir?
Where will you be, sir?
Commander deAir, I will be the bait!
Then young deAir stepped back involuntarily as Lord Delos looked up, two intense luminous gray eyes fixed on him intently. There was a steel will behind that quiet set face. Jon could feel it. There wasn’t time to argue; the fleet was approaching the disputed edge of Ashkerian space. His stern commander softened his next reply: You are well-trained, Jon. You’ll know what to do!
There was a pause as the head commander looked down at his slender hands. His long white fingers were gripped together tightly. Lord Delos slowly pulled his hands apart and shook them gently. Guess I’m a little tense!
A little tense, thought Jon, carefully blocking his mind to the Head Commander. Ah… I would be too if I were going where he was…
The young commander almost blushed, but he was too well-trained…trained by the very man who was now standing up and moving across the council room towards him. He stood at attention, hoping his nervousness didn’t show up on his face. Lord Delos merely nodded at him, gave him a penetrating look, reminding Jon of the eyes of a mountain eagle his brother had brought home long ago. Yes, sir! I will see that your orders are carried out.
Good! Now I must get ready!
Jon stepped out into the passageway behind Lord Delos. Sir, what ship do you plan to use?
An ironic smile briefly crossed the stern deeply tanned face. My brother’s old scout ship will do for this trip.
Jon was appalled, once again. That old wreck?
Yes, Jon, that old wreck; it will do nicely for this journey. I don’t expect to return…
Jon was embarrassed that his thoughts had leaked out of his highly trained consciousness, but Lord Delos had his ways of deciphering frequencies that still baffled the young man. He snapped to attention as the lord turned to walk towards his private quarters.
By the way, Commander DeAir, it has been an honor to serve with you!
With those last parting words, Jon saluted his head commander’s back, knowing Lord Delos would feel his emotions without any effort.
And I, you, sir!
And the young commander spun quickly on his heels and strode off towards the command deck to convey the wishes…last wishes… of Lord Delos.
Delos entered his apartment. It was sparsely furnished, just a single bed, a shelf for personal belongings, a small closet, and an extra blue uniform hanging from a hook on one bulkhead. There were no personal mementos, no photos. There was nothing to indicate that this was the quarters of the head commander. Delos liked it this way, simple, clean, unadorned. All that he owned was at home in Sirust. All that he loved and cherished… was at home. Would he ever see it again? He knew the answer. No.
He sat down on the hard bed. Long ago, he had learned to sleep anywhere, even on cold, hard ground; the bed didn’t bother him. If he had needed physical comforts, they would have been provided him. He was letting everything go…
Entering a deep meditative state, Delos reached out to his Father, Lord Chananda in Sirust, the great capital of Kashta. Distance and time made no difference in this in-between place; there was no time or space here. Father…
I AM Chananda. What can I do for you, Delos?
Delos felt the comforting Presence of his Father surround him and relaxed slightly.
You know I love you, Father…
Yes…I know what it is you plan to do, Delos.
I knew you would. I just could not say anything that last day…Tears began to fall down the pale stern face as his Father’s great love softened his resistance…
You must do what you need to do. I know you do it for the people, for the survival of our world.
Delos paused a moment. Father, please send the Angels to me. I feel that I will have need of them today…
They will come on the Wings of Eagles, my son. I love thee!
Some hours later, the preparation was ready. The slower old scout ship moved out away from the cloaked fleet. It was headed to an old outpost on a tiny isolated rock of an planet in disputed space. The only person on the scout ship was Lord Delos.
Commander Jon deAir watched anxiously as the old ship moved across the dark depths of space. And then there were explosions of light as an entire flotilla arrived simultaneously out of hyperspace to surround the aging vessel! Jon’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and then he pulled himself together. It was time for action!
Uncloak and attack, all ships! Uncloak and attack!
It was a complete surprise as the Ashkerian fleet attacked the enemy for Lord Delos had seen to it that every ship in the Ashkerian fleet was updated with the latest cloaking devices from the Pleiadians and the Ashtarian fleets. All except the old scout ship, that is…
The Ashkerian fleet had surrounded the area of the old outpost and immediately proceeded to burn their way into the opposing vessels with laze guns and cannons. It didn’t take long until the dark sea of space was glinting with burning hulls of enemy ships floating aimlessly around. It had been a complete rout! And the Ashkerian fleet had only lost a few men, fewer wounded… except?
The crew on the command deck shouted aloud in triumph. The uproar silenced when their new head commander stepped forward to the scanning station, signaling for quiet. Where is the scout vessel?
Everyone knew he was really wondering: Where is Lord Delos?
Sir! There it is!
The scanning tech zoomed into the viewer bringing an image onto the large screen in front of the command deck. The scout vessel was listing. There was a great hole in its outer hull.
Any life signs?
The medical monitor looked up from his instruments and shook his head. No, sir…sorry, sir!
Commander deAir straightened up, his jaw tightening even as he felt tears starting up. For the first time, he felt the full weight of command heavy on his shoulders. It would be his duty to report to the Head Commander’s family, Lord Chananda and his son, Aman.
It was a victory, a great victory, sir!
Commander deAir looked at the man who had spoken up with a hard glance. We lost a great man here today. Never you forget it!
He turned away and strode out of the command deck. His next order was terse: Let the Fleet know we’re going Home!
A couple of days after the recovery of Lord Delos’ remains from the old scout ship, the new Head Commander of the Ashkerian Fleet arrived at the sprawling home of Lord Chananda, situated on one of the hills above the sprawling city of Sirust. He wanted to personally announce that Lord Delos was being ceremoniously laid in state in his favorite temple so that the people of the city could properly mourn the loss of this great man… my friend.
Guided by a servant the newly assigned Commander found himself standing in a lovely private garden taking tea with Lord Delos’ father, Lord Chananda. Jon found the older man quite imposing despite his slender build and quiet demeanor. He sensed a powerful Presence behind the physical façade of the lord.
How did it happen, Jon? Lord Chananda was casual in his address; he had known Jon for all his life and was quite determined to put the man at ease.
He set a trap, my lord, and…and he was the bait. He knew they would come if he was alone. And they did. They could not resist getting their collective dirty hands on… Jon clenched his fists trying to control the intense feelings that were fighting to the surface.
Lord Delos loved you like a son, you know.
The soft inner voice cracked his disciplined outer shell; Jon sunk to one of the benches, tears flowing down his deeply tanned angular cheeks. He looked at the serene lord, grief and anguish in his dark eyes: Why did he do it, my lord?
The answer surprised Jon.
To give us time…
Time? Jon looked up at Lord Chananda with a mixture of emotions crowding his features, disbelief, grief, and a touch of anger?
Yes, Jon…time. Lord Chananda got up and began to stride around the small elegant walled garden. You will see…it’s in the planning stages.
Jon, you’re tired. The older man strode up to Jon and shook his shoulder lightly. Go home now…to your mate and children. You haven’t seen them yet, have you?
No, my lord… I wanted to speak to you first.
Lord Chananda nodded and with a wave dismissed the commander out of the garden. Now you have. Thank you for coming, Jon. Now, go home!
As the commander entered the portico to find his way through the huge mansion to the entry hall, he nearly ran into Aman… the priestly son of the Commander. Aman.
Jon could sense a deep underlying current of mixed emotions in this man; like himself, the son did not understand his father but for very different reasons. He did not know his father or appreciate the heavy weight he had carried for the Katayyan people for so long without respite. Jon sighed, missing his old mentor and friend. There was an empty place in his heart due to the loss of his former commander. He began to address the priest, again, this time to explain his presence. Aman… What are you doing here? I thought you would be in the Temple with your father…
The other man turned, startled, and stared at the commander with alarm in his eyes; his mind had been clearly preoccupied with other matters. Aman spoke aloud, “Commander deAir? Where is my father? What happened?”
Do you not know? The commander’s brown eyes were hard. He patiently told the priest: “Your father is dead. Even now his body is being laid to rest in the family temple. We just arrived home from the battle site at the edge of Ashkerian space.”
The priest’s finely boned aristocratic face became frozen and pale with shock. “I… I didn’t feel it, his death. How did I not? There was a battle? How many other casualties were there?
Jon couldn’t understand the disconnection between father and son so that the priest didn’t feel the moment of his father’s brave death, but it wasn’t his place to judge the man now. He calmly reported the results of the short-lived battle: Only five of our men died. Your father was one of them. His ship took a direct hit. Two other ships were damaged, five crew killed, 20 wounded.
Jon surged on… If it will help, the Commander… Lord Delos knew that the enemy was massing a great fleet on the borders of our space. They were planning a huge attack, even on this city… I think, I feel… part of his purpose was to draw the enemy away from the city… to distract them from fulfilling their plans.
The priest’s face was filled with disbelief, astonishment. How did he know?
Jon shrugged and replied: He had his ways. He just knew…
With that terse reply, Jon snapped a salute and marched out of the front door passing a startled guard. He was glad to leave that house of mourning. He felt the priest staring after him, but he didn’t look back. Aman may have been Lord Delos’ son, but he didn’t know his father well. And now he would never know him.
The tall, slender young man strode defiantly into the garden where his Grandfather was waiting for him. Lord Chananda ignored him for a moment, instead putting all his attention on the colorful male peacock that was strutting against the white wall of the enclosed private garden. A secret smile crept across the older man’s strongly defined features. Then he turned and surveyed the young man from head to toe, the guarded mouth, the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. Lord Chananda shrugged and then let out a sigh, thinking: So, like his father…
The grandson, Aman, stood quietly as his grandfather’s light gray eyes passed over him. Yes, he was angry, upset, confused… his father had left the city days ago intent on committing a dangerous act of entering enemy territory with a small fleet of ships. And now Commander deAir had just informed him his father was dead. He felt numb, filled with both grief and anger at the news of his father’s death.
The resonant telepathic voice was like a whip hitting him, even as a wash of warm loving energy stole over his body. The young man straightened his long open tunic and repositioned the shawl that was draped casually over his shoulder. He missed his priestly robes, but the summons from his grandfather seemed urgent. He pulled at one gold earring, wondering at his own nervousness. He knew that somehow his life was about to change…
“Sir,” replied the young man, slightly hesitant. Then he blurted out, “Why was Commander DeAir here just now? Where is my father? What happened?”
“Yes, Aman…it is your father.”
Aman was in shock and repeated: “What happened? Commander deAir just told me he died in battle. I don’t believe it!”
The tall lord hesitated for a moment and then said quietly, “It is true what the commander told you. Your father is dead. Before he died, he promoted Commander DeAir to Head Commander of the Fleet! Your father died in battle soon afterward.”
You could not feel his passing? The internal query shook him to his core.
Despite his anger and upset towards his strong-willed father, his son staggered with the shock of the bald statement from his serene grandfather. Lord Chananda stood quietly waiting for Aman to recover. It took a while as despite their differences, son and father loved each other deeply. Finally, Aman straightened up, again, and looked into the pale luminescent gray eyes of the older man. “What does this mean?”
The reply was a rebuff, swift and harsh, “I have sent for your mother. And she already knows.”
“Where is his body…?”
“He died in space. He will not be returning to us…alive. The fleet just arrived at the spaceport. Commander Jon DeAir wanted me to know before the news spread throughout the city. Your father’s body has been taken to our family Temple to prepare his body to be laid out. Meanwhile, there are the funeral arrangements to be made…”
For those readers who are not aware of the Taali beliefs on reincarnation, it was felt that a soul would be reborn on the planet of their birth if and only if s/he died within the atmosphere of the planet. At least that was what I was told once. I’m not sure if I believe it or not now. Still, on with the story:
Since Aman’s father had died in space outside of the atmosphere of any Ashkerian planet, it could not yet be determined where his soul would choose next to reincarnate. He would not be returning to Kashta as had been foretold by Lord Vishnu.
The Ashkerians regard the physical vessel as a temporary vehicle. They were quite aware of the journeys that some souls take as they climb the ladder of soul evolution. Some souls moved at a slower pace; some moved like a wildfire. Aman’s father was one of the latter.
Aman stared at his grandfather, a man whom he regarded as a kind, gentle, sometimes distant person given his vast age and experience. His grandfather’s face was quiet and serene, as usual, but Aman could feel the grief within. However, Lord Chananda was not given to sharing his thoughts or feelings with his grandson. The great lord had lived long enough to see many sons and daughters go into the fires. Aman’s father was but one of the latest, but… He was gone, dead in his last battle.
“Aman, since your father has died and you are the eldest son, you will retire from the priesthood and find a mate!”
The quiet order from his grandfather startled Aman, but he knew enough not to argue. An order from his grandfather was due to an instruction directly from Source. As a man of his House, Aman, too, knew his duty. Too many young men and women had died due to the wars, especially from the higher castes that produced most of the warriors and commanders.
It was with a shiver that Aman realized that he was now the head of his House, after his grandfather. He had a much younger brother, Rojé, but as the eldest it was now his duty and that of his younger brother to assure the continuance of their family line, especially as neither his eldest aunt or uncle had mated or had children of their own.
Lord Chananda spoke up again, disturbing the young man’s whirling thoughts: “What woman will you select as your mate?”
“Ananda Devi deAir,” blurted out the startled young man. He blushed and then realized that his parents, Lord Delos and Lady Anya had hoped that the young Ananda would be his mate. She was of high birth, being the daughter of a cousin to the father of the present Lord deAir, ruler of Kashta. Aman remembered with a shiver the sight of her thick dark hair hanging down below her waist when they used to play with the other children, the flicker of a smile across her sweet face, the long dark lashes hiding her golden brown eyes. Then he realized, with some irony, how his wily father had trapped him into fulfilling his parent’s greatest wish, to see their children happily mated and settled. Then he remembered with a trace of regret: “Ananda… she is a priestess.”
The older man smiled briefly, “That is of no matter; she has been freed of her vows, as well.”
Aman could hear his dead father chuckle in his head. The wily warrior had won another battle. He knew… he knew what fate lay in wait for his eldest son with his passing! In a state of shock and anticipation, he bowed to his grandfather and left the garden.
Lord Chananda watched his distracted grandson leave the garden and enter the passageway that would bring him to the rooms that were kept for him when he visited the mansion. He would have to remind the housekeeper to arrange for the young man’s belongings to be moved to other quarters, suitable for his new rank and position in the family. And then he smiled gently, feeling the awareness of this indefatigable woman as she acknowledged his request…as already being done.
Dropping into deep meditation as he sat on the cool stone bench, he stretched out his vast causal body in search for the consciousness of his departed son.
There… was a bright light beyond the stars… our stars, on the edge of Ashkerian space. There was debris floating through the dark spaces, the remnants of a great battle.
What had happened here? And then, reaching out, again… he felt the withdrawal… no, the protecting mantle of another great Being, Beings…surrounding the life essence of his son’s light body. He queried the silent Presences. Where?
To the House of Healing, to remain between lives until he is ready to reincarnate… but not here…they replied. We have gathered up the pieces of his Light Body and now escort him to Arcturus, to the Ohorani for healing.
Silently within, he nodded, understanding. And someday, he knew he would again meet the one who had been a beloved, brilliant, and at times difficult son. And he knew to the core of his being that this one would be very changed in appearance…
Lady Anya, his widow, remained in seclusion, in meditation, prayer, and cleansing rituals to prepare for the days of official mourning that lay ahead for her and the rest of her family. On the night after Lord Delos’ body had been laid out for viewing, she made her way into the temple to have one more look at her dead mate. His body was lying on an intricately carved marble table, arrayed in a clean white tunic and pants. A white shawl woven with gold threads lay over one shoulder. There was a golden turban was on his head with a tiny peacock feather and a great amethyst jewel pinned to the front. Gold necklaces were arranged around his neck and lengthwise on his long torso lay a golden inlaid sword denoting his warrior rank. She gazed at the still pallid face in silence. She knew that her love would have been embarrassed by all this fuss; he was unique in the stark simplicity of his daily dress when at home in comparison with the silks, gold and jewels worn by many of his peers. He always preferred his simple blue flight uniform…
Gazing upon the deserted vehicle of her husband, she thought: I am proud of you, my love. The people will honor you forever for your sacrifice. May you find peace and happiness in your next life! She paused to wipe a tear away. I miss you, Delos!
Then Anya turned and fled with a muffled sob. As she left from a side passage, a man stepped out from the shadows behind a huge pillar. It was Jon deAir, there, too, to say his last good-byes to the man who had been like a father to him, mentoring him, and working with him for long hours without stint. Good-bye, old friend, Commander Delos! I will meet you, again, someday… perhaps on another world. As with family, friendships like ours are forever!
Two days later, the body of Lord Delos, former Head Commander of the Ashkerian Fleet, was escorted by a great parade down to the plaza where the funeral pyres were situated. The highly decorated cart upon which his body lay was followed by his widow walking quietly, head down, her shawl drawn closely around her face.
Jon stood among the crowd who had gathered to watch this latest funeral. Besides the Head Commander, four of his men had also fallen during the short-lived battle. And now all the widows walked behind the funeral vehicles drawing the bodies of their mates. They were there to observe the final cremation of their former mates’ bodies.
The carts pulled up to a halt beside each pyre; the bodies of the dead were gently laid to rest on platforms strewn around with kindling. The plaza was a sad place, a place of sorrow for so many young men and women had died in this lengthy war. Yet, in a city filled with grief, a good crowd had gathered to see the funeral fires of a great one, Commander Delos, and to look on at his brave widow as she bore witness to the flames as they consumed the body of her beloved mate.
When Anya appeared in a break in the tightly packed crowd there was a distinct hush. Jon looked around; all eyes present were fixed on the tall slender figure dressed in her simple white saree, her white and gold shawl now resting on her narrow shoulders. There were no jewels bedecking her body, only a wreath of white flowers around her neck.
The priest in charge bowed to Lady Anya and presented her with the torch to light the pyre. She took it firmly in her slender hands and placed it upon the well-oiled dry wood. Immediately, flames leapt up as the widow carefully stepped away, watching the flames devour the pyre. Her face was expressionless, but Jon could feel her grief. She remained standing there until the pyre crumbled into ashes and then quietly walked away, accompanied by her two living sons, Aman and Rojé.
Jon thought…They were a good match, this Anya and Delos, a good match, indeed. For a moment he wondered where Delos was now…for he knew that such a man, such a courageous man would soon be born again… but where?
The priestesses began to sing hymns of prayer, redemption, forgiveness, and eternal love for the Creator as the five pyres disappeared into smoke and fire. The people sighed. They knew that at least some of the dead would be reborn here, among them, but what of those who died in battle? There would be no answers today. The crowd began to break up, returning to work or home.
And so, it is done. Jon also strode off, heading towards his distant home where his children and his mate waited for his return. Life continued, and he knew that he would meet the reincarnated Lord Delos again, someday, perhaps in another time and place, but they would meet, again; of that, he was sure.
Two months after the death in battle of his father Lord Delos, the young couple Aman and Ananda celebrated their wedding according to the ancient customs of the Taali people of Kashta. Covered with leis of fragrant flowers, bedecked in gold jewelry and pearls, and wearing bright orange and yellow robes, the young couple was paraded through the streets of the great city, past the sprawling mansions and gardens, up the hill to one of the greater Temples.
Despite the war, the citizens of Sirust came out to celebrate the beginning of a new life for these two young people…and perhaps a new beginning for their world, as well, for this same young lord and his Grandfather, the venerable, but ageless Lord Chananda had begun teaching the populace of the great city of Sirust a special meditation that would create a unique forcefield to protect their worlds forevermore. It was truly a day for celebration. It was a day for renewed hope in the survival of their worlds.
As Aman stood before the high altar, he felt disoriented for a moment, looking into the familiar face of one of the priests who had instructed him long ago in the sacred rituals of his former calling. Then he glanced over at the radiant face of his lovely bride and felt a great peace come over him suddenly like a beautiful blessing. He knew then that his father approved of the union and were pleased. With that he let go of his anger and grief and concentrated on the beautiful ceremony and his new life ahead.
Within three months of the passing of Lord Delos, the great meditation was successfully performed when the great collective of Kashta joined their heart flames, sang the mantras, and performed the mudras. After many hours of concentrated meditation by the populace of all the planets, a miracle happened. With a mighty flash of golden Light, the forcefield was activated, protecting Kashta and its people, raising them up in density. The great meditation was dedicated to the memory of Lord Delos’ selfless sacrifice, giving up his life so that his people might live.
Two years later, the young couple, Aman and Ananda, were blessed with the birth of a dark-haired, gray-eyed son. As a proud grandfather bent over the cradle holding the newborn, Lord Chananda felt a familiar essence… the boy was Tazo reborn. At least one of his sons had returned, but where was Delos? His people looked for his return in vain. As Lord Vishnu had predicted, Lord Delos never returned to his beloved family or planet, again.
The House of Healing
Due to my choices, my incarnation as Delos was over. There will those who question my motives and state of mind, but I knew what I was doing. I was not afraid of dying. I had given up my soul to God, everything I owned and loved, for the protection of my people and world. And the sacrifice was accepted and acknowledged. And now we return to the battle scene in space where I breathed my last…
Upon leaving my body behind after the battle, I was escorted in Light Body to Arcturus by a pair of Eagles, members of an elite force of Angels under the command of Archangel Michael who assist in protecting lightworkers and members of the Family of Light. The Eagles are chosen for their strength, size, and qualities of character. One of my Eagles seemed vaguely familiar to me. He was a tall, brawny fellow with great twinkling dark blue eyes and golden blonde hair curling around his shoulders. At the time, I wasn’t really in any shape to inquire further into his identity, but intuitively knew that I had known him before…somewhere else. The other man was also very tall and broad shouldered, but with darkly bronzed skin, blue-black hair, and brilliant blue eyes lined with violet. They both wore simple form-fitting silver uniforms that reminded me of the ones worn by the Pleiadians whom I had met earlier in my life while training with Lord Lyonell in the Pleiadian Command.
Our journey was done in Light body since my physical body was not in any shape to be moved; it had to be left behind for whoever would discover it lying sprawled below the control board console of the old shuttle. As we traveled, I only had the impression of a great rush of air against my face, glimpses of stars and large worlds rushing past my dazzled eyes. The Eagles kept a firm grip on my light body as I kept fainting from the pain of my wounds. Yes, your light body can be damaged during physical, mental, or emotional trauma. Did you think it was impervious to being damaged? Think, again.
Where are we going? Curious to the last breath, I had to ask the Angels (as I knew them) that my Father had sent me for my last journey.
There was a chuckle and a deep baritone voice tersely replied, “The House of Healing on Arcturus!”
Why? I asked.
I got the impression of a highly amused consciousness that enveloped me in warmth… For healing, you fool! Don’t you remember?
A stream of images cascaded through my consciousness, bits and pieces of my now former life, my training with Lord Lyonell, the loss of my brother and so many others, my wife and the birth of our long-awaited son, my involvement in the fleet until reaching the position of Head Commander, the endless years of fighting and witnessing the depredations of a deranged and dishonorable enemy … and the final crashing chord, my decision to act as bait in a desperate move against a strong and relentless enemy.
I didn’t want to die, but I knew that the enemy would not let go of the opportunity to capture me alive…so I used some of their agents to let them know when and where I was going to be alone. They were too stupid and arrogant to wonder for what purpose the head commander of the Ashkerian fleet would be visiting a deserted outpost in disputed space, especially alone. Such was their hate for me that enraged they brought what they thought to be an overwhelming force…for one man. Yet, I was the commander of the forces that had thwarted so many of their attacks upon our worlds…since not long after the death of my brother, Tazo.
I had trained my men thoroughly so any one of them could replace any officer, including me, should the need arise. Jon deAir was the most senior of my officers, well-respected, and the most brilliant of any of my students so I selected him to take command if I did not return… After so many years and surviving one battle after another, our force was very tight and bonded; my word was not questioned or my plans, but all was perfectly executed to accomplish a stunning defeat of the surprised enemy forces. I was not wrong about Jon and my men; they did what needed to be done and so did I.
“Ah, a warrior”, replied the deep baritone voice with just a touch of irony. “It is time to let that go and sleep…”
A great hand rested on my fevered brow radiating heat; I found myself drifting off, surrounded by light, warmth…safety… and knew no more…
Later…much later I swam out of a hazy light-filled sense of being not quite here or there, floating on a sea of consciousness. Or should I say unconsciousness, for I could not remember – anything. Where am I?
An intense white light surrounded him, and he could feel strong arms firmly grasping his body.
You’re dead; don’t you remember? The deep voice had a hint of laughter in it.
Ah… All he remembered was floating high above his prone body that was sprawled out on the deck, within the same ship where his brother met his fate so long ago. Like his long-dead brother, he had been hit by a laze cannon from one of the enemy ships before his fleet could reach the scout ship. He knew his plan was risky, but it was a chance he had to take… for the sake of my people.
The ironic voice cut through his thoughts once more: It was a foolish thing to do…What should I call you?
Delos! He replied with a snap.
Laughter greeted him. Not anymore. Delos is dead. Delos is no more…
Do you remember?
Remember what? He snapped again. And then he saw a vision… When Jon and the crew came aboard to fetch my body, they found it laying on the deck. The brittle glass of the viewing window had been broken by a direct laze shot. He could see a gaping wound in his chest where it was hurting right now in the worst way. There were other wounds, but the chest wound was the worst.
Ah, now you see Truth.
I must have been hit by a laze gun…
Yes. A direct blow, but your enemies will not be celebrating. They lost a third of their complete fleet in that battle.
A third? He was startled, amazed, delighted. That will slow them down; cut them down to size…!
Like they did you, Commander?
Delos could sense the irony and amusement in the deep voice. He repeated his first question. Where am I ?
“You are in the House of Healing. We are located in the Bootes constellation,” replied another higher voice. Delos could sense a tiny bit of irritation in the second person, a different presence, and female. He felt a strong, long-fingered hand rest on his brow. “You are awake now?”
He wasn’t sure. He felt dizzy, weak, and small. His hands ranged over his body and then he went rigid in shock. “What is this?”
“For now, Delos; we had to place your Light Body into a new avatar to stabilize it. Your light body sustained great damage. It will take time to heal. It’s time to open your eyes, now, Delos…”
When Delos opened his eyes, he found himself in a white room. The walls appeared to be made of a pale blue crystalline substance. Besides the bed he was lying upon, there was little in the way of furniture to be seen. The entire room was a brilliant white to his blurred sight. The atmosphere was filled with waves and sparkles that danced before his bedazzled eyes that were not used to what was before them. He knew he wasn’t on Kashta anymore, although he had no conception as to just where he was. He made a small noise, which got the attention of whoever was standing nearby. He could feel their presence, a female, but couldn’t quite make out her appearance.
“Ah…you are now beginning to heal.”
Startled, he looked up to see a tall slender blue-skinned female was standing next to the bed as there weren’t any chairs in the room to be seen. Delos stared at the woman. She had a larger skull structure than his own and no hair to be seen. Her blue eyes were clear and brilliant with light. He had never seen anyone quite like her within his remembrance… which was a bit hazy at the moment. Still, her presence was very dignified and she moved with innate grace.
“Who are you?” he inquired… and then remembered his manners, “I am Delos, of Sirust.”
“No longer Delos…or of Sirust”, replied the dignified healer. “You are my patient and you will be with us for some time. Your wounds are great and require healing. At your passing, your Light Body was shattered. It will take time for our medical teams to reblend the fractured pieces into your Light Body here. You will remain with us until your Light Body is fully healed and you are ready to reincarnate. Do you understand that officially you are dead and between physical lifetimes?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, chastened, watching as the woman stepped away and returned carrying a glass of some pale rose-colored liquid. She handed him the glass and then proceeded to prop up his pillows so he could sit up and take a drink.
No woman had ever treated him like this since he was a toddler in his father’s house. Ah, Father… tears started…
“Drink up…and get some rest now.” The woman watched him as he drained the glass and handed it back to her. “I am called Suree. I am a healer. Again, welcome to the House of Healing.”
She bowed to him, turned and walked out of the room without closing the door. Delos felt the presence of someone outside his door; a guard? Apparently, he was being watched intently. He lay back down on the pillows and tried to relax. This body felt wrong, different; it would take a while to adjust to it. He lifted a hand to examine it. The fingers were small but well-shaped and the wrist finely boned, the skin a light bronze…very strange, indeed. Still, if he had to remain here for a while, so be it. He didn’t have the strength to protest anyway.
During the days, months, and years that followed, Delos continued to heal. After the first month, when he was deemed strong enough, he was taken to the light chambers and laid within one of the apparatuses there which were designed to work on the light body. He mostly slept and dreamed while in the healing bed. He shared these dreams mainly with people from his previous lives, familiar faces, old haunts, dark visions of silver ships falling through an endless space spattered with distant stars. In time the images began to change, to morph, to include new faces and places, ones he did not immediately recognize.
When he was strong enough, the one who had been Delos spoke with a great Light Being, one of the great Ohorai, the light beings and 7D Elder Teachers of humanity who live in the Bootes system near Ohora, the great red star the Terrans call Arcturus This great master came to visit with their patient. After their first conversation, the great lord came often to speak with Delos, interested in hearing about his past life and his former planet, Kashta. Their conversations were very companionable, like old friends. Delos knew the great Lord, but not from where. Still, he enjoyed the long conversations.
The days seemed endless in the House of Healing, blending together and dreamlike. It was difficult to tell whether it was day or night. The former commander spent much time sleeping, dreaming, and healing in preparation for beginning another life. He knew his work was not yet done, although what it consisted of, he had no idea.
One day he woke up, finally feeling completely healed and whole, once again. As he attempted to focus his eyes all he could see was golden-white light. A radiant figure stood at the side of his bed. He could not see its face but could sense it was male. There was a familiarity to its essence… The singular figure was joined by another, this time feminine, of that, he was sure. He heard voices talking about him, but he could no longer remember his name, just impressions, fragments of his most recent life. What?
It is time for you to be reborn, dear one. Where is it you would like to be born? Kashta is closed to you. You have completed your mission and purpose there and must move on…
He thought for a moment and remembered the time when he spent with the Pleiadians. It would be very different than the ancient culture of Kashta; some of the inhabitants of the Pleiadian planets were still rather fierce and wild. The more civilized Pleiadians called these people, “tribal”, for they preferred to keep their ancient ways of living as nomads. Still the rugged simplicity of their lives appealed to some inner need. He nodded his head… Tribal Pleiadian.
So be it. You will again be a male and born into a tribal people, on the Planet of Morova.
Before he lost consciousness once more, a deep voice echoed through his head, “We will meet, again, my friend.”
Then a great hand descended, and another deep voice said, “For the sake of your continued healing, you will forget for a time that you ever lived on Kashta and were called Delos.”
And he knew no more…
Thus, comes to an end to a strange interlude wherein the soul essence of Delos was reblended with his light body, a form of soul retrieval as the parts of his fragmented soul was gathered up and brought back to his light body so he might go forth into his next life whole and healthy…
~ ~ ~
Note to Readers:
Those of my readers who have been with me for a while, will recognize this story. The story of Delos began to be written in the summer of 2018 and was rewritten again in 2019. After the crash of my laptop’s hard drive, I thought I had lost the entire story. Well, I hadn’t. I had posted the chapters of my four books to a private blog on WordPress. However, when I did some closet cleaning in Blue Dragon, I had deleted the page with another version of this story on it, along with assorted other writings from the time period of 2018 to 2021.
Just last week, I was wondering whether I had lost this particular tale. Out of curiosity, I did some brief online searches and found, BINGO! Some person unknown to me had copied entire pages of the nonsense I had written about Sirius A… I say nonsense now, for although I believed it once, I do not any longer.
I will say that while I have altered the appearance of Delos and his people, the Katayy of Kashta, and so on, I will not do the same thing to my four volumes on Lord Raphael DeAires Kantor-VaCoupe, a later reincarnation of the same soul essence as Lord Delos.
In the early summer of 2021, I began to read the works of Elena Danaan. One of her books, “A Gift From the Stars: The Book of Alien Races”, has opened my eyes up regarding the appearance of the many varied races, human, reptoid, Anunnaki, Seeders, etc. who have interacted with humanity of Terra over millions… yes, millions of years. Other remarks made by Alex Collier as he conveyed his dislike of “Pleiadians” in general, clued me into the fact that not all Pleiadians are benevolent. So, I finally broke out of an old belief system, punching through the misinformation that was aligned with the alien infiltration of the New Age community. Since then, I have learned more about the “history” of our Cosmos, although I wouldn’t pretend (like some others) to know all. We’re talking millions of years of evolution if you look at things in a linear fashion. However, our soul essence is eternal, limitless and we do not live our lives in a linear manner. Still, all that is beyond the scope of this tale I have shared with all of you.
For some reason, the story of Delos resonates on a deep level with me. As I originally wrote the story, I wept for two weeks after Lady Anya died on the pyre. You will note that I removed some of the crueler aspects of a culture that probably NEVER existed on Kashta. Certainly, white-blonde beings with green eyes do not, either… Those people are the T-Ashkeru, the hybrid Grey-humans of the planet Morga, one of the planets circling Thula… better known on Terra as Sirius B. And no ET races that I know of so far live on “solar isles” nor do they call their planets, “isles”. I need a bigger broom to clear away all of the nonsense I was told.
The people of Morga call themselves the Seige of Ashtar or the Ashtar Collective. Since the time of this story, these intelligent people were successfully infiltrated by the Nebu. As a result, I would NOT listen to any being who claims to be from “Sirius”; that system has been invaded. The brave Ashkerians lost their battle to retain their freedom as did many worlds within the nearby Orion sector. As far as I know, the Katayy of Kashta are still free and probably resonate at a higher density, so are unavailable for the taking by the greedy Nebu or their violent sometimes allies, the Ciakahrr Reptilians. I have previously written about the Ashtar Galactic Command, but will not beat that dead horse today. Perhaps later… There is NO Commander Ashtar and he doesn’t come from Alpha Centauri… or any other planet of which I am currently aware. I could hardly know them all, as there are billions upon billions of worlds and an unimaginable multiplicity of races to be found just in Nataru, our own Milky Way Galaxy. Remember, there is a Multiverse out there, teeming with Life and variety. Source is creative. The title “Ash Tar” means “high commander” in the Taami language of the Lyrans, which all human races from that system still use. The Ashtar Galactic Command is a breakaway group who left Morga when it was being invaded by the Nebu. They are military mercenaries and DO NOT communicate with Terrans, especially starry-eyed females who imagine themselves channeling messages from tall, white blonde blue-eyed warriors. No, the T-Ashkeri are an intelligent people, but they are shorter than the Ahel and Taali Pleiadians, and are a hybrid Gray-Taali human race, with white-blonde hair, triangular faces, wide slanted green eyes and pale skin.
The Katayy, the people of Lord Delos, did not join with the Ashtar Collective. Instead, they withdrew from involvement with military campaigns. They are now protected by and participate in the Galactic Federation, primarily as scientists.
As for the Pleiadians… only the ones from the Ashaara system would be reliable. Ashaara is the blue-white star that Terrans call Taygeta, a Greek name. Our astronomers are very earth-centric, don’t you think?
I mentioned the Taali renegades who built their own little solar system with two terraformed planets circling around the great star of Jayha. These renegades, who broke away from their brother Taali on T-mar due to a petulant dispute over the size of their planet. Too weak to survive on their own, the Taal Shiar appealed first to the Nebu who ignored them. Then, they appealed to the Ciakahrr who took the bait. As a consequence, the Taal Shiar gave one of their planets to the reptoids and became fully aligned first with the Ciakahrr and then later with the Nebu. In the past 70 years or more (probably more) they have participated in infiltrating the Terran population because they look just like us. They are heavily involved in the Galactic slave trade and other less than wholesome activities; a complete disgrace to the Lyran race.
So, there are both benevolent and malevolent extraterrestrials “out there”. The Cosmos functions on balance. Like the Yin and Yang, there is an eternal balance between the Dark and Light. The dark has dominated our planet and tinkered with Terran evolution, but now the Cosmic scales have tipped towards the Light. We have an opportunity to fully step into our sovereignty and to remember who we really are. This is really what the Great Awakening is about. It never was about a four-year election; it was a bid to free our world and solar system from the control of dark unseen masters, who guided their earthly minions with a hidden hand. Their presence has been removed from our solar system, thanks to the efforts of the benevolent factions of the Earth’s secret space programs and the hard work of the warriors of the Galactic Federation of WORLDS.
To top it all off, our original Seeders arrived with their light ships in our solar system and are currently standing by watching the Greatest Show Ever Known unfold upon our small blue-green planet.
I hope you enjoyed my writing efforts. One of these days, I will get my books published. And I will make sure to keep copies of the original in several places this time. ❤