By Owen Quinn author of the the Time Warriors and Zombie Blues
They came from a world torn apart in a time experiment gone wrong. Their key to infinity became their death knell. One stray bullet and life changed forever.
The last survivors of Xereba, huddled together in the Juggernaught, a military spacecraft, were led to Earth by the vision of one man. Varran, the man who had unlocked the key to time travel, had seen the future; a darkness was coming to consume creation itself. The last battlefield would be on a blue green planet in a system of nine; Earth.
Now the Xerebans live among us, abiding by our laws since the 19th century while a solitary Varran watches from the Juggernaught. They could be the lollipop man, your best friend, the banker or the old lady that watches the world sitting in her favourite chair from behind net curtains. When darkness falls they will be waiting. Now Varran, the man who doesn’t age, along with Jacqueline, Jacke for short, Michael and Tyran, descendants of the Xereban race are the guardian angels of Earth.
They don’t know when or what form the darkness will take but they know it is coming. Earth must be protected. They are the Time Warriors. These are their stories.
Book extract from The Time Warriors book :First Footstep
PROLOGUE FIRST FOOTSTEPS
Space was ablaze with hellish brilliance as the death throes of billions voices choked in flame.
Orange, blue, red and green lightning danced like a kaleidoscope opera across the land as the planet’s atmosphere began to evaporate. Time held its breath as within minutes an eternity of evolution died in the molten oceans that surged up from beneath the surface in great unfeeling geysers, devouring everything.
The planet was breaking up, black infernos blasting glacial chunks into space in halos of fire, whole continents shimmering into ash beneath the onslaught.
The stars were trembling in horror as bubbling wreaths of red hot asteroids were forming, tumbling end over end in brimstone flame that shot through space; a tapestry of tombstones marking the end for Xereba.
Amid the cacophony of destruction a lone vehicle hung limply in space like a frightened puppy, too shocked to move. Shards of planetary debris bounced across its shields in little spots of colour like oil on water, the mere tip of the iceberg.
This was the Juggernaught, the Xereban military’s greatest achievement.
It was the first of a fleet that would never be built, created to stave off any potential invaders. Xereba had faced an invasion once before but the quick thinking of one military leader, General Solos, had averted the disaster, saving the people from being reduced to a life of slavery from a reptilian race called the Swarchek.
Like a bulldog, the Juggernaught defiantly faced the devastation head on, its hull laden with sensors and weapons, most of which were implanted in its shape, hidden from the naked eye. Its manta shape was reinforced with a self-sustaining skin that gave it an organic look.
Inside the vast curved craft was a stunned silence to match deepest space. The moment the energy waves had begun rippling across the planet, every alarm had triggered, sending the technicians and soldiers to their battle stations.
They had been trained well by General Solos and had acted swiftly. The energies killing their world disrupted the teleport system and so, praying to the winds of hopeful fate, they focused the beams on the surface and randomly scooped up whoever they could, from wherever they could. They could not control it, their hope futilely urging the beams to bring some of their loved ones aboard.
Tears burned their eyes as person after person materialized on board, shaken, nervous and lost. Others screamed like their very souls had been ripped from them, desperate hands reaching for loved ones that were no longer there.
Out of eight billion citizens only 1,243 were saved. The Juggernaught, once the first best defense of all Xereba, was now the last cradle of hope for the Xereban people.
Survivors were materializing all over the station but Solos, in his devious military brilliance, had cleverly made the vehicle two fold. He had stood in its command centre, six months before, beaming proudly as his image was projected across the planet.
“The Juggernaught not only acts as a multipurpose station to house over four thousand troops but it is capable of space flight. After all, what use is a space station that can’t move when attacked or indeed needed to manoeuver in order to fight back?” His pride was justifiable given his achievements.
Some said paranoia made Solos think of every possible outcome regardless of the expense. They were right.
Too traumatized to think, the survivors could only stare about them at strangers’ faces, desperate for a family member or a friendly face. But all they could see was their own grief reflected in each other’s features.
One woman, Neera, had been teaching a class of thirty children, all bright and eager for the future. She had felt the ground tremble, the air gasp in a pinprick of complete silence before the fires came. Unable to move, she watched as tornados of flame consumed her class as she was carried off by the teleport beams, useless hands reaching desperately at ash.
She sat weeping, cradling her head in her hands as the looks on the childrens’ faces played before her. Those innocent wide eyed babies who never even understood what was happening would haunt her forever.
The shaken crew could only mumble empty words of comfort to the distressed. It was as if the universe had opened its dark side and smashed their planet from under them for no good reason.
Even the Xereban philosophy of everything happens for a reason seemed a sad excuse now under this mind wrenching loss.
Read the rest of this thrilling adventure in the Time Warriors:First Footstep availble at this link https://www.amazon.co.uk/Time-Warriors-First-Footsteps/dp/1461080894/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=the+time+warriors+first+footsteps&qid=1610305631&sr=8-1