Kemlo and the Space Invaders

Book 0: Kemlo

by E.C. Eliott

Genres: Science Fiction; Alien Contact; Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi

Synopsis

When Jod Wyler and his gang of Whirleebirds decided to invade the new satellite, where now lived Kemlo, Kerowski, Krillie and all our other friends from Satellite K, there were one or two points which he entirely overlooked.

One or two very important points...

Release date: January 1, 1961

Publisher: Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd.

Print pages: 320

Sample

JOD WYLER spun the turplane in a tight circle, then hovered down to land lightly on the marked landing area of the flat-topped Teen-Centre, and cut the power-unit switch. The tiny turbo engine sighed to a stop. This sighing sound was common to the small turplanes. It came from the fluted openings along the edges of the rotor arms which revolved above the cockpit.

Jod glanced at his micro-watch as he slid from the turplane and jumped to roof level. He looked up at the sky and had turned almost full circle before he sighted two other turplanes wheeling in to land. Jod moved away from his own turplane, leaned against the parapet of the landing area and nonchalantly watched his friends, Mel Shandos and Trig Palliss, bring their craft to hover for a second or two before landing in the spaces alongside Jod’s craft.

‘You’re late,’ said Jod Wyler as Mel Shandos and Trig Palliss came toward him, after alighting from their craft.

‘Late!’ said Mel Shandos, a tow-headed youth with a belligerent look on his face. ‘Just because you’re early, everyone else is late.’

‘I said you’re late, and I mean late,’ Jod snapped.

‘You’re not all that early yourself,’ said Trig Palliss, a dark, thin-faced youth. He grinned at Jod. ‘We saw you come in, so don’t try to tell us you’ve been waiting a long time.’

Jod smiled. ‘Might as well try to keep you up to scratch. You’re getting too sloppy. Timing’s important. A minute late or a minute early—particularly a minute late—can mean trouble.’

‘You got news?’ Mel asked.

Jod shrugged. ‘Let’s go down into the club. I’ll tell you.’

‘This isn’t a group meeting day,’ said Trig as they moved toward the lift entrance.

Jod waited until they all were in the lift and the doors closing before it hissed down to ground level. Then he said:

‘I’m the boss of the Whirleebirds—right?’

‘Right,’ Mel agreed. ‘And I’m your second-in-command.’

‘And I’m Mel’s deputy,’ Trig added.

‘So what does it matter?’ said Mel gruffly. ‘We’re not arguing about who’s boss.’

‘Just want to get it straight,’ said Jod. When the lift came to a halt, Jod swaggered through the open doors and strode on ahead of his companions.

Mel and Trig exchanged glances. Then Mel shrugged briefly as much as to say, ‘It’s going to be like that, is it?’

Trig gave a quick nod in answer to this unspoken question. They knew their leader well enough to recognise one of Jod Wyler’s ‘boss moods’. They knew also that Jod never acted like this unless he was on to something big. Jod was a good leader and dug up plenty of ‘kicks’ for the Whirleebirds. But sometimes he was difficult to deal with when he got bumptious and arrogant, as now. Jod had found the name ‘Whirleebirds’ in a reference book which described the early machines of the turplane type as helicopters, the slang name for these having been ‘Choppers’ or ‘Whirleebirds’.

Jod’s group had a strong reputation for toughness. Its members were carefully vetted before being elected to it, and the programme of ‘kicks’ (as nearly all planned escapades were called) was more ambitious than those of any other group. Neither Jod nor his friends liked the Whirleebirds to be referred to as a ‘gang’. For one thing, gangs were illegal, and any group of people classified as a gang were quickly separated by Security officials, with the punishment drastic enough to prevent them re-forming.

The Teen-Centre used by the Whirleebirds in the township of Earth Base Seven X was luxuriously appointed, as were all such Centres in the new towns. Apart from the various lounges, public rooms, swimming pools, gymnasiums, dance halls and miniature live theatre, there were many Session Rooms, where confidential meetings of almost any size could be held.

Mel and Trig followed Jod across the cool, sun-glowed coffee lounge, ignoring other youths who sat at the tables or lounged against the bar rails. They passed swiftly along a short corridor leading from the main lounge until they came to a door on the right marked ‘Session Room Three.’

Jod pulled a slim key from his pocket and inserted it into a tiny lock. The key turned with a faint click. The door swung open and, as it did so, a red light came on by the side of the door. Above the light an illuminated sign which read OCCUPIED sprang to life. The red light and the sign would stay on until the door was again locked from the outside.

The three youths entered the room, closing the door behind them. Jod flopped into a lounging chair. Mel perched on top of the air-conditioning cabinet near the wide, tinted windows. Trig went across to a small bar and reached for a soft-drinks bottle.

‘Anyone thirsty?’ Trig asked over his shoulder.

‘Make mine pineapple,’ said Mel. ‘Got a slug on you, Jod?’

‘No slugs,’ said Jod. ‘Just drink it straight. I’ll have orange, Trig.’

Trig mixed the drinks, passed the other two their beakers, then flopped into a chair facing Jod.

‘Well—what’s it this time?’

‘Big,’ said Jod. ‘What I mean is—big.’

‘How big?’ Mel queried. ‘As big as that last kick you cooked up for us?’

‘Kid stuff,’ Jod retorted sneeringly. ‘When I say big, I mean it. You ought to know that by now. I don’t use words unless I mean ’em.’

‘We got trouble from that last kick you rigged up for the group,’ said Trig cautiously. ‘Two of the boys are still in the punishment block.’

‘They shouldn’t have got so excited,’ said Jod unsympathetically. ‘The Security patrols would never have caught on to us if those two hadn’t had a slug too many. I’m making a new rule in this group. No slugs.’ Jod looked directly at Mel as he said this.

‘You can’t make rules like that,’ Mel protested. ‘That’s a personal thing. If I like a slug with this stuff, then I’ll have it.’

‘Not with the Whirleebirds, you won’t,’ said Jod.

‘No? Who’s going to stop me?’

Jod rose slowly from the chair. He was taller than Mel, thick in the shoulders, well muscled.

Mel put down his beaker and slid off the air-conditioning cabinet to stand poised to meet Jod.

‘I don’t want to fight over it,’ he said.

‘Who’s fighting?’ Jod asked, still moving slowly toward Mel. ‘I’m telling you. No slugs. Kicks we want, but not liquor. That gets us in bad, see? That’s why those two are still in the punishment block. Kicks we want, but no slugs, and I’m making the rule.’

Suddenly Jod moved with deceptive swiftness, and in a few seconds, by using a Judo hold, had thrown Mel across the room.

Mel hit a chair and crashed with it into the wall, where he fell—the breath knocked out of him.

‘You can have more.’ Jod moved toward him again. ‘A lot more.’

‘All right—all right.’ Mel slowly climbed to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. ‘I know you’re unbeatable at Judo, so I won’t fight. Not worth fighting over anyway. I’m not all that fond of a slug.’

‘You always do things hard, don’t you?’ said Jod. ‘Always got to argue first, then give way. One of these days you’ll argue just too much.’

Trig surveyed them from his chair.

‘You waste energy—both of you,’ he observed. ‘Slugs of liquor and exhibitions of Judo—they make more trouble. It isn’t new rules you need—it’s more sense.’

‘How would you like to be thrown through that window?’ Jod paused by Trig’s chair and glared down at him. ‘You’re only Mel’s deputy. We can vote you off the action committee quicker than we voted you on it.’

Trig lay back calmly in his chair, his dark eyes gazing steadily up at his leader. Trig wasn’t afraid of Jod, although most of the others were, but Trig had never tangled with his leader up to now. Jod was very quick to show off his skill at Judo and his somewhat extra muscular strength, because Jod was a great enthusiast for muscle-development exercises. His strength and skill, added to a natural flair for leadership, kept him firmly established as the leader of the Whirleebirds.

Suddenly Jod laughed harshly.

‘Never get a rise out of you, do I?’ he sneered. ‘One of these days I’ll make you take me on, just to see how good you are, Trig.’

‘Why don’t you do it now?’ said Mel, coming up to lean on the back of Trig’s chair. ‘You’re quick enough to pick on me with your Judo tricks when I talk out of turn.’

‘Trig doesn’t talk out of turn—do you, Trig?’ Jod asked sarcastically.

‘No,’ Trig replied quietly. ‘When I talk out of turn it’ll be for keeps. What I’ve just said is only much the same as you’ve said, so what’s the reason for making an issue out of it?’

‘You said Jod needed sense more than new rules.’ Mel secretly wished that he could see Trig match himself against Jod.

‘You use more words to waste time than anybody I know,’ said Trig calmly. ‘Why don’t we get down to business?’

‘All of this is business,’ said Jod, moving away to slump in his own chair. ‘We’ve got to sort things out between ourselves, and there’s a big plan coming up. I’ve got to know where I stand.’

‘You know that well enough,’ said Trig. ‘Or are you still worried about those two in the punishment block?’

‘Nah!’ Jod exclaimed scornfully. ‘You know me—I don’t worry. Besides, they asked for it. We’re agreed on that.’ He was about to say more when the intercom televisor buzzed a warning signal. They all glanced at the corner screen as it flickered to light.

The head and shoulders of a man wearing the uniform of a Teen-Centre Warden appeared in the screen.

‘Warden MacNulty calling Jod Wyler in Session Room Three. I can just catch sight of you in the chair, Wyler. Will you come into the scanners’ beam so that we can talk?’

Jod flashed a warning glance at Trig and Mel to keep silent before he moved slowly out of the chair and crossed to where the television scanners could transmit his image to the screen in the Warden’s office.

‘I’m here, Warden,’ said Jod in a polite voice. ‘Are you receiving me?’

‘Yes, that’s fine, thanks. Are you in conference?’

‘We ain’t swimming.’

‘Don’t get funny, Wyler,’ said MacNulty quietly, but his hard-gazing blue eyes flared angrily. ‘The two members of your Whirleebirds in the punishment block are going to be the subject of an inquiry. An official inquiry,’ he added.

‘So?’ Jod shrugged nonchalantly.

‘You’re not interested?’

‘Why should I be interested?’

‘They belong to your group, don’t they?’

‘We don’t stand for those types. They make trouble—they get trouble.’

‘Very commendable,’ MacNulty observed sarcastically. ‘Since when have you been so particular about such types?’

Jod chuckled. ‘Since they got caught.’

‘That’s a fair answer,’ said MacNulty. ‘Are you going to leave them without witnesses at the inquiry?’

‘We’ve no witnesses that’ll do them any good,’ Jod replied. ‘Only do ’em harm if the witnesses speak the truth.’

‘That would be a change.’

‘Now it’s your turn not to get funny,’ said Jod. ‘You’re the Warden here—not a Security officer.’

‘I’ve more authority than you might have appreciated in the past,’ said MacNulty. ‘Don’t tempt me, Wyler, or I’m liable to prove just how much.’

‘Why pick on me?’

‘Because you’re trouble—big trouble. Everything is done for you here, but you’ve got to go organising kicks, haven’t you? Now there’s an official inquiry about two of your own pals and you back out because you say they deserve the trouble they’re in. What you really mean is that you can’t stand up to an inquiry yourself.’

‘You bore me,’ said Jod. ‘You’ve got two teeners in the punishment block and you’re all set to make an example of them. Well, go ahead. You won’t need my help, nor the help of my Whirleebirds.’

‘Those two are giving you more loyalty than you’re showing them. They won’t even admit they are members of your group, but say they stole the Whirleebird shoulder flashes they’re wearing on their jackets.’

‘Well, well, whaddyaknow!’ Jod exclaimed. ‘They’re real bad boys, ain’t they? Stealing flashes and going busting up places!’ He shook his head in mock sadness. ‘You should keep more control over the members of your Centre, Warden. You’ll get the place a bad name.’

‘You’re so brilliant, aren’t you, Wyler?’ said MacNulty bitterly. ‘Got an answer for everything. One day you’re going to step out of line just that bit too far, and then you’ll find out a lot of things.’

‘Why threaten me?’ Jod asked. ‘And what does stepping out of line mean? You’ve been after me and my Whirleebirds for a long time, Warden, but you haven’t been able to lay any charges against us. You’ve called us wild and irresponsible because we don’t think much of playing games around your Teen-Centre. You even tried to have us banned from using it, but you can’t do that because it’s an International organisation, and until we reach the age of twenty we’re entitled to be members.’

‘Entitled, eh?’ said MacNulty. ‘That’s a favourite word with your type. You think you’re entitled to do anything you fancy. I’m not asking particularly for respect for myself, although I’ll make that a personal matter any time you care to come down to the gymnasium.’

‘Big strong man!’ Jod sne. . .