The encampment turned out to be a rather sorry affair. A small fire burned around a number of simple lean-to’s made from fallen bracken. Gerry counted no more than twenty armed men. It was interesting that women were absent.

Tamos brought his prizes cheering loudly.

“We have Jerrix boys. Now the prince will have to negotiate with us.”

The friends were pushed roughly to the ground and placed under guard.

“Will someone please explain what happened here?” the cat asked. “I helped your people.”

Tamos looked at him and knelt in front.

“About a year after your departure, the prince used the blight as an excuse to raise farming taxes. During that scourge, taxes were non-existent.”

Jerrix was shocked by the over simplification.

“People were dying of starvation mate. Are you seriously suggesting that I should not have helped?”

That put Tamos in a difficult position.

“That is not my point.”

“Then what is?” the cat demanded.

Tamos stroked his dark hair and patted his well-fed body.

“You should have known what you were dealing with. Had you known in advance, what would you have done?”

That was simple of course.

“I would have persuaded him against it. So after these taxes went up, you left and formed this motley bunch?”

Tamos gazed around his brown clad men.

“They are brave enough. Each one was a farmer. I pride myself that I trained them in the art of war.”

“Your gang does not stand a chance mate,” the cat warned him. “Just look at you. Mere amateurs.”

Tamos scoffed.

“We plan to strike his castle this very night,” he boasted. “If you really want to help you can come and watch.”

“Of course I want to help,” Jerrix said. “Just call off your attack.
Let me speak to the prince.”

“He may betray us,” a short ruffian suggested.

“Shut it Camly.”

He seemed to think before replying.

“We will show the prince how we feel by this attack. It is a show of force. I’ll bring you along as observer. If you have any suggestions...”

“I’ll come too,” Gerry chipped in.

Jerrix turned on him.

“No you won’t young man. I will not have you turned into noodles.”

Then Tamos spoke.

“He is right boy. That strange dress of yours will give us away. You will look after our fire.”

The cat smiled and said, “You know Tamos, I could not have put that better myself.”

Gerry did not like the idea but went along with it in order not to rock the boat. At least the rebel leader trusted them now.

As darkness fell around them, the band of rebels moved out quietly with Jerrix at the front alongside Tamos. He had declined a weapon on the grounds that he would not use it.

They plodded on for an hour until they reached the dark stone castle. Jerrix noticed the lack of defence ditch and the fact it was built on flat ground. The surrounding trees had been cleared which created a field of fire.

Four corner towers rose around it and the walls were castellated. A fancy term for battlements. Jerrix also noted the many arrow slits. It was a formidable fortification.

“You must be mad attacking this,” he commented. “Only ten of your men have crossbows, none have armour or shields. You will be cut to pieces.”

“You really think that you can convince the prince to change his ways?” Tamos asked.

“At least let me try.”

“Go on then but be careful.”

Jerrix broke cover and padded carefully across the open space. He was calculating that he could see better than the bowmen. When he reached a safe distance, by his estimate, he made his appeal.

“Hi there. I am Jerrix and demand to see the prince.”

He heard annoyed shouts and moments later a shower of bolts streaked toward him. He threw himself aside instinctively as they landed and heard Tamos scream, “Attack!”

As he lay perfectly flat, the rebels crossed into the open land and their archers opened up. As showers of bolts hurtled toward the defenders, the remaining ten surged forward yelling for all they were worth.

Within the castle, the defenders knew they were under attack. That was obvious. As the bolts crashed down, the rebels threw their ladders at the wall and began climbing upwards. The defenders knew how to deal with this.

A bowman fired down as his armoured colleague pushed the ladders down, stopping the assault in its tracks. Luckily, Tamos escaped the bolt, but he was fully aware of the desperate situation.

As the ladders collapsed, bolts hurtled down, cutting his small army in half. He noticed too that the gates were being opened, obviously to release the mounted knights.

Tamos had no option in the end. In a loud voice he shouted, “Pull back now.”

As they fled into the undergrowth, horsemen rode out in pursuit. A couple of them quickly located the cat, who raised his paws in abject surrender.

“Get inside,” the horsemen shouted poking him with their sharpened lances.

Jerrix hoped the surviving rebels would be safe as he was led inside the defensive position.

Once inside, he saw the others returning as he was prodded towards the centre of the enclosure. A knight climbed down and opened his visor.

“Scum,” he said pushing the cat onto the ground.

As he rolled, he heard the officer say roughly, “We shall make an example of you. Drag him to the block.”

Jerrix was grabbed roughly and dragged towards a tough wooden block, where his head was forced down.

“Now wait a minute,” he managed to mutter, as he saw the knight raise his sword for that final, fatal blow.
---
Jerrix closed his eyes, expecting his imminent end. Suddenly, a voice he recognised shouted out, “Release him at once.”

Jerrix opened his eyes and glancing up, saw the sword withdrawn. A welcoming hand helped him to his feet.

“Oh my dear Jerrix. You must forgive me for the actions of my men.”

Prince Ruprecht turned towards the knight and said indignantly, “Perhaps it is your head I should remove.”

Jerrix stepped in at once.

“That will not be necessary sire. He did not realise my status.”

The prince nodded and asked pleasantly, “We were not expecting you.”

The cat shook his head.

“It was meant as a fleeting visit sire. However, disturbing news has come to my ears.”

Looking very concerned, the prince led him into his royal residence, which was located at the rear of the enclosure.

The prince himself was dressed in a lavish blue top and green breaches. A small crown, decorated with precious stones, sat firmly upon his royal head.

Jerrix glanced around the expensive furnishings and gold laden throne. It was a sharp contrast to the misery of the rebels.

The prince led him to a lavish seat and they sat together.

“What have you been told?” the prince asked.

“You have raised the farm taxes sire. Much to the detriment of the people.”

“It is certainly true taxes have been raised Jerrix, but not for selfish reasons.”

“What other reasons are there?”

“We need to import grain until a full harvest is grown. As you are aware, that is not cheap.”

“I see. Do I take it that this is a temporary measure?”

“It is indeed. Before I could explain this, the rebel band was formed.”

“Now that I am in full possession of the facts may I suggest something?”

The prince smiled.

“Allow me to repeat this to the rebels with an amnesty from you.”

The prince nodded eagerly.

“That would be splendid Jerrix. You must spend the night here of course, before the morrow’s important mission.”

“Thank you sire. I certainly need my sleep.”

After sun up, the cat was led back to the enclosure where a steed had been prepared. Jerrix gazed at the magnificent black coated animal with its leather saddle.

“I remember your riding skills Jerrix,” the prince said. “Take care now.”

As the cat mounted, the prince nodded to his men and the gates were opened to allow him to leave.

Jerrix jabbed his paws and the horse trotted out into the open space. He jabbed again and the animal broke into a gallop as he guided it onto the dirt track. At this pace, it did not take long for him to reach the rebel camp.

As he drew up, the ten survivors armed themselves suspecting some kind of treachery. The cat was relieved to see Gerry still there.
Dismounting, he handed the reins to a rebel and stood quietly as Tamos spoke.

“It is obvious where you were last night.”

“For your information I was captured Tamos. If the prince had not intervened I would not be here.”

“So you supped with our butcher,” a lean rebel said.

“Actually, I am glad I did.”

“You had better explain yourself,” Tamos insisted.

“This tax you are fighting against is only temporary in nature,”
Jerrix explained. “The prince assured me it is only to pay for grain imports while a full harvest is absent.”

“You believe this?” Tamos asked.

Jerrix nodded.

“It is certainly feasible. The prince has also agreed to an amnesty, which I insisted upon.”

Tamos looked impressed.

“It seems that you have done well sir.”

“I did my best Tamos. How many men did you lose last night?”

“The ten you see here are all that remain.”

“Such useless slaughter. I hope now you can return to your homes and forget this rebellion.”

“I think we will Jerrix.”

Gerry stepped forward and said, “I suppose we can leave now.”

The cat nodded and was about to say farewell when the sound of approaching horses reached their ears. Everyone was rather startled by this development.

Jerrix whirled around and saw a column of knights coming towards them. He grabbed the schoolboy by the shoulders and said, “Return to the ship now.”

Pushing him away, he saw the rebels starting to scatter and seeing a sword lying on the ground he picked the weapon up.

Whirling it above his furry head he yelled, “Stand and meet them.”

The rebels stopped and watching this curious act, rejoined him.
Tamos stood at his side as the enemy approached.

“Seems you were betrayed my friend. You need not die with us this
day.”

Jerrix glared at him.

“I have no intention of dying anywhere Tamos.” He paused and ordered, “Cut their reins.”

The rebels saw the cat run at the armoured men swinging his weapon high. Moments later, they charged as well.

The sudden assault by this motley group took the trained fighters by complete surprise. As the enemy closed rapidly, they had problems drawing their weapons.

The rebels closed and saw Jerrix severing the reins of the first knight he met. As the horse reared, the knight was thrown clear and the cat went for him. Without hesitating, he smashed the sword down across the knight’s head and body as the poor man floundered.

He finally got the visor open and stabbed the sword tip through the gap. The body lay very still.

As this battle occurred, the rebels were slashing at the reins of their enemy, following the cat’s example. Some of the horsemen tried to flee but were quickly cut down. As swords struck home, rivulets of blood soaked the dry earth.

Jerrix turned to see numerous bodies lying near the camp. Luckily, none of the rebels had been lost on this occasion. The men cheered but Jerrix remained silent. Even when Tamos patted his back.

“We showed them our metal my friend. Thanks to you. You would make a great commander.”

Jerrix nodded in silence.

“It is not over Tamos. Now we have to finish this once and for all.”
---
After stripping the bodies of their weapons, the cat advised they move to a safer location in case of a counter strike. Tamos took his advice and left the schoolboy to kick his heels in the safety of the ship.

As they retreated, Jerrix mind was whirring as usual.

“You will have to strengthen your army Tamos. Go to the surrounding villages, and tell the people and farmers to arm themselves for a final battle.”

“You plan to assault the castle after what happened last time?”

“I do indeed my friend. I’m now convinced the prince must be removed and that your good self should replace him.”

“I am no ruler Jerrix.”

“Then you must become one sir. Be lenient to those who surrender and drop this abominable tax.”

“I hear what you are saying sir, but how can the fortress be taken?”

The cat smiled.

“Just gather your army and I will reveal all. Make sure you bring braziers full of gypsum.”

Tamos understood at once.

“Burning arrows.”

“Spot on my friend. We will burn that damn door down and raid the place.”

They reached a small stream and decided to stop there. As his men rested their weary legs, Tamos left to gather more armed men.

Jerrix did not allow the weary to rest long though. He forced them to make more bolts for their crossbows while arranging fallen branches into some kind of defensive perimeter. When he was convinced they could repel a second attack, he allowed them to collapse where they were.

Many thoughts passed through his mind as they waited. The prince had been a good man, last time he had been here. Perhaps the blight had affected his mind. Or perhaps despotism had taken hold.

Within two hours, Tamos returned with around fifty armed men. Jerrix looked at their simple garments and weapons. Some carried wood axes. Other just pitchforks. It was pitiful really, but obviously the best they could do.

Tamos pointed to them.

“All I could gather. We brought the brazier as asked.”

Jerrix nodded.

“You should be made aware,” he said. “That some of you may not return to your families after this night. Your prince is no longer fit to rule and must be removed. With my help, you can achieve this. Now rest yourselves. Tonight, your history changes.”

As they sat, Tamos congratulated him.

“You spoke well. It is a pity that you will leave us again.”

“This is your world Tamos. Not mine. I only wish violence could be avoided.”

As night fell and no knights appeared, the small force-marched off to do battle with their mortal enemies. None had armour of course. All were armed and extremely brave.

Two carried the brazier, which was their strongest weapon. After a couple of hours of trudging, they reached the edge of the wooded area and gazed upon the enemy stronghold.

As quietly as possible, the brazier was lit and Jerrix organised them as best he could. The plan was a simple one to be sure but it had a realistic chance of success.

When everything was ready, the desperate action began. The bowmen opened up first, targeting the battlements in order to keep the defenders heads down.

Moments later, small-unarmed groups carrying dry bracken, dashed across the cleared field of fire and stacked it against the wooden entrance. After running back, the bowmen let rip with flaming bolts.
The material ignited, flames roaring high into the air. Further bolts were fired to prevent defenders pouring buckets of water onto it. Jerrix and Tamos watched the burning entrance with satisfaction.

“At least the horsemen won’t be able to ride through that,” Tamos commented.

As the assault progressed, the flames began to break through the entrance. At this point, Tamos gave a yell and his army ran to the attack. Unlike last time, none were lost.

On reaching the entrance, the rebels smashed through the burning wood until it finally gave way. Then they stormed inside. Jerrix had not joined this.

He stood quietly beyond, wishing them well. He heard the screams of the wounded and dying, as the fighting raged inside. It was over within an hour.

Only at this point, did he saunter in to see Tamos. He saw the small palace burning fiercely and the bodies of the dead. A couple of knights had been taken alive and to his relief were being treated well.

Tamos was cradling a wounded arm but he was smiling ruefully.

“We only lost six men Jerrix. Less than I dared think of.”

“What happened to the prince?”

“He chose to fight to the end. I gave him an honourable death.”

The cat shook his head sadly.

“Try to remember this Tamos. There is no such thing. Build a better and fairer society for your people.”

They shook on it, and the cat padded off and towards his waiting ship.

He found Gerry sitting upon the floor looking rather bored.

“All finished?” he asked glancing up.

“All finished young man,” the cat replied.

He pulled the north statue lever and watched as the galactic map formed over the metallic dome. Two small dots were flashing as usual.

“Where are we off to now?” he asked standing up.

Jerrix glanced up and said sadly, “Why not Earth.”
---
HMS Trident nosed through the choppy North Sea heading for Southampton. The crew had completed a short tour of duty in Norway and were looking forward to a little time off.

Rear gunner Tommy Anderson, a burly chap with ginger hair and wicked sense of humour sat with his crewmates in the mess, eating their traditional breakfast of beans, sausage and chips. Alongside this meal sat a small glass of rum. This tradition was frowned upon by the Admiralty, but on this ship the captain allowed it.

Tommy had just swallowed another chip and was tasting his rum, when the captain’s voice floated through the air.

“All hands to action stations. This is not a drill.”

Tommy froze, despite his training. Everyone did. You simply did not go to battle alert in the quiet North Sea. An officer in the mess cut across these thoughts.

“You heard...Out!”

Tommy ran, as did everyone else. He dashed through the corridors until he clambered up a metal ladder and entered his battle position.
His loader stood ready as Tommy pulled on his flash protection. Upon a computer screen, small dots were rapidly appearing.

“They are not aircraft,” he muttered as he donned his earphones and mouthpiece.

“Rear gunner ready sir.”

A voice barked in response.

“Engage the enemy.”

More shocked than he realised, Tommy engaged the system and the twin guns slewed. With perfect radar control, they began firing as the loader worked frantically. The screen clearly showed the shell bursts but no hits.

Tommy cursed as the dots broke through and explosions rattled the ship. Despite the cordite, he continued firing as targets presented themselves.

A sudden blast somewhere towards the centre of the cruiser took out the power and the computer screen went dark.

“Blast!” Tommy muttered as the weapon became useless.

“Come on,” his colleague shouted. “We should get out of here.”

Tommy opened the escape hatch and climbed out onto a burning deck. Flames and blasts rocked the stricken ship as the enemy streaked overhead.

“Who are they?” his colleague asked desperately. “Russians?”

Tommy stared up, and saw huge star shaped machines swooping down and gasped, “I don’t think so...”

Seconds later he saw one of these intruders fire a pink ray, which struck close to their position. A huge explosion tore the ship apart and the resulting blast tossed Tommy overboard.

He hit the salt water savagely, gasping for air as he surfaced. To his right, he saw the broken ship split in two and begin sinking. In utter desperation, he swam towards the distant shore. His colleague was nowhere to be seen.

Smitty was the name he was known by. A fighter pilot with experience of modern war he brought his Tornado to a halt after yet another patrol over British airspace. Only the day before, he had intercepted a Russian Bear as it lazily approached the UK air defence area.

He was relieved when the old nuclear bomber turned back.

He was about to cut the power and remove his helmet when the controller broke in.

“Scramble, scramble, scramble...”

Instinctively he pushed the stick forward, adjusting the throttle as he did so. The Tornado turned to face the runway exit as he increased the power. As seconds ticked by, he reached the necessary v3 and pulled the stick back.

The warplane lifted into the air as the black wheels retracted, and Smitty spoke into his mask.

“This is T1. Airborne. Request bogey location.”

A voice, seemingly emotional, answered.

“Flight level east, two-three-hundred.”

Smitty thanked him and set the info into his on-board computer. The aircraft gained height rapidly and the pilot began gazing around.

Everything seemed normal. He was about to query the order, when he saw something break through the cloud cover. To his trained eyes, he knew they did not come from Russia.

These were huge, star shaped machines glinting in the burning sun.

“Engage T1.”

Engaging was the problem. He was only armed with side cannon. Over Britain, Sidewinder missiles were never fitted for safety reasons.
He pulled the craft around and opened up as a machine streaked past.

“Hit it,” he barked but the machine continued. Seemingly undamaged.

“Negative kill, repeat. Negative kill.”

He pulled the Tornado around and locked on once more.

Cannon shells spat out, clearly striking the target but without effect. As he pulled away, he heard a crack from his controller station, followed by an ominous silence.

“Control, do you copy?”

Only silence now.

That momentary distraction was all it took. A sudden explosion from the rear indicated a direct hit. He fought desperately with the controls as the Tornado lost altitude. He spotted the coast and saw something astonishing and alarming at the same time.

A grey shape, which he recognised as a British cruiser, was clearly burning. As he watched, he realised he had better bail out and pulled the lever.

His canopy was blown clear before small rockets propelled him into the air. His stricken plane dived into the ground as his chute deployed safely. He gazed around at the diving machines, noting that the cruiser was sinking fast.

As he saw another approach, he ditched the seat, deploying his personal chute. He swept over the coast and out to sea before splashing down fairly gently.

He struggled clear, and began swimming slowly toward the distant shore.

“At least,” he muttered. “My training works.”

He swam on, wondering where these machines came from. He also knew something else.

His planet was being invaded.