The Tale of the Blood Diamond (2 page)

They’d tried to take the land of Zarkstorm several centuries ago, but were finally physically beaten into submission with over half of their population wiped out, while the Zarkstormians had lost less than five percent of their Warrior fleet. That was their history, and they worked hard to stay mindful of it looking forward. Zarkstorm was one of the few planets they’d attempted to heist, yet were not successful inhabiting it. Now, the special force field that protected the planet from invaders made it virtually impossible for any unwanted visitors to trespass.

The Yuledrakes considered themselves terrestrial elites, and by many standards, the self-appointed title was befitting. However, they were more like scavengers; well-dressed vultures who enjoyed collecting tragedies and calamities, then displaying them on a grand, golden curio shelf for all the universal worlds to see. They were best known for taking over planets and making the inhabitants toil the land until they drew their last, miserable breath.

The Yuledrakes hunted power and riches until they wheezed out of breath. Through these Olympic mad dashes, they found the Zarkstormians, the Warriors as well as the Intellects, worthy opponents. The conflict became a game of sorts to them, regardless of their low batting averages. The Zarkstormians were some of the few beings that the Yuledrakes were not able to sucker into backwards, unfair deals, trades and the like. To the others that had fallen prey, the formula was simple.

They shone glittery things as enticements, playing on the weakest link of a bunch and declaring victory after slaying the ones who refused to fall in line. Then, they made the ones that
did
comply regret the day they laid eyes on their ghostly faces.  Jatorn, their ruler, was fully aware of Xzion and his abilities, and it irked him to his murky core. When news spread that they had a cure for their overheating, the tyrant immediately tried to make peace, wanting to get his hands on the mysterious elixir, simply to declare he had a new-fangled, coveted possession.

Xzion encouraged Aton to share the wealth, knowing full well it wouldn’t work on Yuledrakes should Jatorn attempt to sample the delicacy. They’d suffered the same ailment of overheating, but not to the extent of the Zarkstormians since their brains were not made quite the same way. They were different entities altogether and their systems were nothing like their human counterparts, excepting the physical shared similarities. Though after a bloody feast, they resembled the walking dead, a human zombie in its most grotesque form.

“Ugly fucking bastards…” Xzion spat as he continued to brainstorm and race through his cob-web covered thoughts. Contrary to popular belief, Zarkstormians were not immune to gossip. They’d titled it, ‘data investigation’, when many times it was nothing more than catty banter. Still, this pipeline of information served them well, especially when it came to Jatorn and his reaction to, and impression of, Xzion.

Xzion had played a cruel joke on Jatorn, but worse of all, he’d had somehow gotten wind of the Yuledrakes’ plans to take over Earth. Jatorn probably didn’t understand why Xzion nor his people even gave a damn, but Xzion had no doubt nothing would stop their enemies from moving forward, business as usual, despite the obvious threat and the understanding that Zarkstormians only played to win.

Jatorn had called Xzion to congratulate him on his detective work, but also to remind him that neither he nor anyone else would be able to stop the invasion and live. The Earth had essential resources and riches, things of beauty and value. Diamonds, gold, silver and rare, colorful gems… The diamonds were particularly of interest. They gave a drug-like sense of euphoria when consumed by many terrestrial beings, this was nothing new — but there was not a dependency upon them. The Yuledrakes had taken it to an entirely different level. Xzion had seen voluminous ‘diamond farms’, but it was more than obvious that the Earth had the ‘premium’ stock after several were brought back from other beings as souvenirs and the like. 

The Yuledrakes would chase down these treasures, until the occasional purchase, or straight-out theft of the possessions, apparently was no longer enough. Being the wasteful collectors they were, they wanted to get their long, pasty fingers on these prizes, call them their own. Earthly Diamonds were the ‘Mollys’ of their worlds, and it fed a sickness — one built on fantasy, historically wild parties and incredible lies. This paled in comparison to the reality, once the diamond dust cleared…

The Yuledrakes’ planet, Draknard, had a horrific history of discriminating indentured servitude and slavery. A torrid chronicle that was well-known. African Americans, Jews, Native Americans, yes, the filthy list was long and tattered in America and abroad, but still legible, written in the blood of others and still wet to the damned touch. The Yuledrakes could respect this, understand it, for they did the same. It was a way of life. This surely appealed to the Yuledrakes; it would make ‘training’ the inept human all the easier. After all, it wasn’t their first rodeo at pimping each other out…

Yuledrakes were always looking for additional slaves, new adventures and places to destroy. It was what they did, as if they had hatched out of their father’s sack destined to be sick and twisted. In this, the Earth offered a two for one deal, and deals were something they couldn’t refuse. Worse yet, they were resilient and had the patience to wait centuries to exact their revenge. Their motto appeared to be: it may not happen today, but it
will
happen, and when it does, you can never claim you weren’t warned…

Xzion snapped out of his hellish thoughts, made his way to his Hummer and slid in the driver’s seat. It would be a matter of minutes before his wife was on the scene, her hat tipped low and a scowl on her face. A few more cops would join her in approaching the dead Jane Doe, her finger on the trigger and the coroner on speed-dial. They’d rope off the area, careful to not stomp on any evidence. It didn’t matter; none would be found. Yuledrakes were skilled murderers and delved slightly in vampirism, enjoying the taste of iron-rich blood. They didn’t feed however; they merely took a sample, a ghastly taster in which their skinny, walrus like fangs would extend from their dark, wide mouths like the claw on a bulldozer and sink into their victim’s necks until it perforated the other side of their damn throat, nearly decapitating them. They were pretentious, intimidating and by all intents and purposes, rich, spoiled, school-yard bullies. The human inhabited world, particularly the U.S. of A, had met her match.

It was no coincidence they’d leave him the reverse welcoming present of their existence in the land of the hominids. They’d travelled the world, just as he had, but were anxious to make their presence known. He’d gotten a strange, choppy message to go to the location in question and the dreaded feeling in the pit of his stomach was confirmed once he walked towards the corpse. Worse yet, he could still smell them in the air. Xzion felt them watching from somewhere close, to ensure he saw their ‘token of disapprobation’ and then fled into the night, surely to report back their pleasurable findings to Jatorn. Jatorn hated Aton, and Xzion as well, so this shit was now personal.

Xzion slumped against his driver’s seat, and in the near distance, he could hear the blaring police sirens drawing closer and closer. He grunted, sighed and casually started his car and rolled away from the parking spot, leaving a dark rectangle from beneath his vehicle along the slick ground in his wake as his tires crunched down onto the freshly fallen snow. He kept his trek, heading home. He surmised Jayme would be tied up for approximately two hours. At that juncture, he’d brief her on his new assignment, ravish her body before heading to his planet for a meeting that would no doubt make his cold blood boil, kiss his precious son,
Zachary, goodbye, and be on his way.

Well, well, well, if it isn’t good ol’ Jatorn. You think you picked the prime time to do this, huh? You’re here, in my stomping grounds, with the President of the United States. I get it. That is a big prize to you. You enjoy riddles, fun and games, and the pain you inflict. You’ve walked into my new world upright, but you will leave it mutilated and destroyed…

Xzion readjusted his black rawhide backpack onto his shoulder and cranked his neck to the side as he ran his fingers along the jugular. His muscles were stiff and sore, as if someone had reached in with their bare hands and squeezed them like a juicer does an orange. The glowing overhead lights appeared more serene, or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He hadn’t been to Zarkstorm in months, and in that time, the changes were astounding. It seemed two out of every ten child-bearing aged women that strolled past him were pregnant, their bellies round and their faces glowing. He’d even witnessed a slight smile or two, as his people milled about on their way to work, military or academic school, or recreation. It warmed him deep within to finally witness a sense of peace and a lack of quarantine quarters filled to the brim with Zarkstormians banging on death’s door. Those old buildings, virtual tombs, were now boarded up and his world had bloomed, returning to the ways of a time he had been told existed, but never witnessed before now.

As he made his way through the crowds, he didn’t miss the stares and looks of approval from those mingling about. People knew who he was. They knew of his son, as well. A large, glossy photo of the little boy was framed in blue and silver on the entranceway of the main sanitarium. Zachary saved their lives and was revered. His existence as half Earthling, half Zarkstormian had spared so many with just a few drops of his precious blood. Xzion finally reached the main military college entranceway and slid his ID into the clear entry slot. He briefly waited as the doors glowed neon blue, then parted, announcing his arrival in a soft, feminine, automated voice.

“Officer Xzion Khrome is now on base…”

Xzion leisurely navigated the carefully constructed rows of steel chairs and stark white tables until he’d reached the back of the vast area, several minutes later. In a room with walls portioned in eighths, the form of an octagon, sat Aton at one end and several high-level Zarkstorm militia around the perimeter. Their gazes immediately met his as he nodded in their direction, his footsteps echoing along the shiny, white floor, approaching the stark white, wide, crescent shaped table. Aton stood, his form majestic, his silvery eyes gleaming, and his clean-shaven face exhibiting a cleft chin and slight scar along his right jawbone. His platinum hair was cut short and brushed back away from his face, revealing high cheekbones and a sternness about his features, even during the rare occasions when he’d offer a lopsided smile.

“Xzion, thank you for attending. Please,” he outstretched his arm, “have a seat.”

Xzion scanned the room once more, pulled out the plush, white chair across from Aton and took his seat. He folded his hands and stared at the man before him.

“Everyone, as you know, this my most prized pupil, Xzion Khrome. He was born with the rare MXZ gene. His son, Zachary Khrome, is half human and half Zarkstormian. To our knowledge, he is the only child of his kind and his rare blood type proved to be—”

“A cure for our people.” One man interrupted, his dark purple hair slicked back in a ponytail. He shot jade green eyes in Xzion’s direction. “All Zarkstormian newborns receive the vaccine. Officer Khrome, you’ve saved your entire race of people. My twin sons, only ten years of age, were deathly ill. They are alive now, because of you and your offspring.”

Xzion studied the man’s face. He looked serious, but his voice choked, as if he were suppressing outward emotion and simply trying to relay facts. The man loved his children, and though he’d probably never told them, his display, right at that moment, proved it. Xzion slowly nodded, and offered nothing further.

“Yes.” Aton cleared his throat and took his seat. “There are plenty more stories like that, so it is an honor for you courageous men to meet face to face.” Aton took a sip from his water. The crystal, light blue liquid shook ever so slightly in his trembling hand — a curious sight. What did Aton have to be nervous about? The man didn’t scare easily. He never shook when the grotesque open mouth of a rebellious dragon was huffing and puffing in his face. He didn’t tremble while being physically attacked by angry warrior Zarkstormians either, yet something had rattled his nerves like the tail end of a Shacut-cobra snake beast Xzion had had the displeasure of beheading after an attempted invasion many years ago.

He swallowed harshly, and his eyes glimmered a bit brighter during the long silence.

“Xzion, I’ve explained to Brui, Gyen and Korpid here the situation regarding the Yuledrake invasion of Earth. As I’m sure you are keenly aware of, based on Gyen’s testimony of his sons, they are eager to assist in helping to ensure Earthling safety. They have already formed a committee and will commence training the military so that, from afar, we can begin to take action. A request meeting with Jatorn has been issued and —”

“Aton, he will not negotiate with anyone and if he says he will, it would be nothing more than trickery. He cannot be trusted to come to any reasonable agreement. Lest I remind you, he is the same man that had the audacity, after repeated failed attempts to attack and annihilate us, to ask us for the heat cure.” Xzion shook his head in disbelief.

“I understand that, Xzion. However, we are going to attempt to meet with him so that we may gather information. You see, truth is in his lies. As with all good liars, who always use particles of fact as their lure and essence, and weave deceptions around it until it is no longer discernable. The Yuledrakes are particularly adept at this. All we want is the kernel. We can do much with it. Now.” Aton stood abruptly to his feet again, his voice commanding as he ordered a computerized screen drifting above the table to initiate. Red and white lines, codes and strange numbers raced across, beckoning everyone’s attention.