Category Archives: Invasion Chronicle

They come to bring Order to Earth.

No Voice

this beautiful land. created with blood. many more lands, butchered
and destroyed, recreated and now just as beautiful. can you undo
all atrocity by covering up all slaughtering? the order of things is
a lie. a perversion of truth. stability, peace and prosperity built
on endless mountains of skulls, blood, tears and destruction. worlds aflame.

what a mighty sphere of influence we now control. all based on a tactic
of invasion, subjugation and elimination of unwanted elements. the
order of things is a conglomerate of rules, laws and rigid philosophy.
there is no discussion, dispute or questioning. so many have become
blind, reveling in our higher purprose, to cleanse so many worlds of
chaos, our most feared enemy.

i am now No Voice. i have been forbidden to speak in the council. it
was exiled to an island far off the central city. every day i walk
in my crystal garden, watched by drones, combat guardians, they arranged
for it, no being of life should be near me, only deadly constructs
of metal. i cannot reprogram them. i cannot read or manipulate their
minds. there is no way i could call for help.

the fleet is under way. they allow me to monitor their actions. a blue
planet of primitivity. protocols, boring first contact procedures, only
some kind of bureaucracy, preparing war. a short and efficient war.
there is no need to test new weapons, they are already perfect. nobody
wants to test illegal viruses, bio bombs, or world shatter pulses. its
a pure routine invasion. a backwater planet, strategically somewhat
important. the grand scheme and yes, our enemies watch.

ironically, this blue planet named earth will be peaceful once we are
victorious. no more wars, enviro destruction, pollution or even hunger.
for the selected few survivors. genetically and mentally tested to suit
our taste. gruesome elite technical supremacist view of a superior species.
are we truly superior? or fanatic and flawed? ethically? nobody wants
to listen to me anymore. and the laws forbid that they silence me
forever. but i doubt if i am a thorn in their side, disabled and
isolated as i am right now.


the boy made a new friend. always, they met on this hill top in the
midst of the jungle. he was only 9 years old, but well versed in
survival. a typical favela rat. he often fled into the jungle. there
he one day met his new friend. standing on this hill, motionless,
glittering in the sunshine. at first mistaken for some kind of statue.

the statue of a metal like substance was alive. the boy ran. but
suddenly, he could not anymore. as if he was held by an unknown
invisible hand. fear, so much fear, terror, just like in those favelas,
where daily shooting claimed lives. where humans were sold like cattle.
this was different, strange, and then his would-be friend spoke.

a deep and grave voice in the boys head. asking, probing, explaining.
a name was given. Z’aish’aq. at least it sounded like this. the boy
was crazy with fear, and angry, tried to get free, but he was held
by a force greater than anything he could imagine. as if he was held
in his mind, not in reality. there was no escape.

after a while, he was released. the statue stood there. looking down
on this small human boy who ran like hell back to his parents. but
strangely, he never told them about this encounter. and after days
of insecurity, dreams and overcoming of fear. the boy went back to
the living statue. and it was there. turning around. and … smiling.

from between the stars. not human. a messenger, a scout, a warrior.
what do you want, what do your people want?, asked the boy. there was
no answer. a little sadness. the order of things. always met with
rebellion, resistance, bloodshed. the boy couldnt understand. didnt
ask anymore. they sat there in the afternoon sun, talking about
merrier things.

how can you talk if you have no mouth? what is this you are made of?
how can you grip me without using your hands?
, the boy wanted to know.
Z’aish’aq smiled. these questions of such a young, curious mind. you
could learn it, too
, he replied, maybe. but there is not enough time.
again, sadness. the boy felt it. there was some kind of connection
between them now. pictures of alien landscapes. more of Z’aish’aqs kind.

African Spirits

deep inside africa, hidden in a valley, there is a special place nobody
dares to go. children, old people, wise massai warriors all say: there
are spirits, angry and restless, cold glimmering, deadly and vengeful.
whoever ventures there, vanishes. never comes back.

once, there was a military convoy, by the government, soldiers, and jeeps,
and even some heavily armed trucks. they were accompanied by white people,
americans, or british, to explore this secret location, this forbidden
landscape. there were flashes of lightning in the night. and then silence.

an old shaman, wise and clever, appeases the spirits and talks to them.
a great wind of change comes, he whispers. a new order of things. where
there will be no more war, no more poverty or hunger. the villagers laugh,
they think he is mad, too old, a hermit who will die soon.

there is a ritual to bring the sick to this valley. they are carried and
put down at the entrance of this sacred valley. then, all people have to
leave. and the sickly, the mortally wounded, those without hope, remain
alone in the cold african nights. until they too vanish.

there is civil war. many atrocities. the old shaman cries in anger and
frustration. innocent people die. and the spirits are angry, too. they
look down upon us, and will punish the injust. and truly, the guilty
are found in the morning, burnt, some only ashes. deadly revenge.

the spirits walk the land, the old shaman says. they see and know our
darkness. they punish, they exact revenge, they cleanse the land of
foul evil. the murderers in uniform are quiet now. they prowl the night
full of fear, for the first time in their miserable lives.


Amidst the ruins, in a destroyed house, there sits a lonely woman
with a child. the bombs have killed her husband, and many more of
her family. the town is littered with the dead and dying. every
night, at 4 o’clock, the rockets fly. five minutes until detonation.
always fear, and sometimes running isnt enough. almost always,
because there are no shelters.

this woman has a dream, always the same. an angel of god descends
from heaven, promising her deliverance. but asking for something
in return. she has to give her child into the care of god. the
angelic voice explains nothing but asks gently, persistently.
a better future. peace. prosperity. for a price. the child. the
angel tells the woman that her child is special.

soon, one of the angels would come. in a fire from the sky, in a
night without rocket fire, a night of peace for all warriors. a
ceasefire. she shall go to a certain point, wait there, cower
onto the ground in reverence, until the angel arrives, in a
chariot of fire. give your child as symbol. and god wont forget

the woman tells nobody. heretics or false visionaries are stoned
in her land. maybe nobody listens anyway, death and destruction
oppress curiosity. she decides to trust the voice. better than
dying in the next rocket barrage. the angel cant take her with
them. only the child. but they promise to return. very soon.
and bring order to earth, and also to gaza.

a smiling angel, clad in metal and light, takes her child while
a terrified woman cowers on the ground. the chariot of fire in
blue and white and yellow races into the sky. the woman walks
back, silent and in awe, empty in her heart, but strangely
joyful, through a silent and peaceful night.


crazy voices in my head. calling me, luring me, arguing with me.
they want me to leave the shithole i live in. throw away the
bottles of alcohol, my daily drug, amidst other more potent drugs.
they tell me of cleansing, a new future, a better world order.

they promise me a new life. a rebirth. undoing all the damage i
have done to myself. no more depression, anxiety, addiction.
i’ll be free, with their powerful help. free and useful and
strong, and a vision of a new mankind under their guidance.

yeah, drugs make you hear and see things. my brain is a devastated
mess right now. more illusions dancing on my very early grave.
but its so damn real. as if i would dream with open eyes. hear
strong voices. they know so much about me. my downfall. myself.

my sickness advances. some form of cancer. cause of my descent into
this abyss. drug abuse takes its toll, too. most of they day, its
nothing more than being barely alive, in some abandoned factory
warehouse. somehow they found me, they say. and they want to change me.

when i am sober, i argue with them. that i am too weak to come to
them. they have to pick me up somehow. but they dont exist! these
illusions of great angelic bullshit beauty. they say they show me
how they look like so that i may believe. i answer by cursing them.

in the end, they were persistent. and i was a fool. they did indeed
come. only one of them. sneaky. in disguise. they tell me they are
already here, hiding, infiltrating, scanning, scouting. highly
organized, very efficient. why me? what do i have that they want?

i have decided to go with them. last straw of hope. they greet me
with joy. my choice was right, they say to me. they see something
inside me, that is worthy. they will heal me. in exchange i shall
be their soldier for mankinds fate. this choice keeps me alive.

The Order of Things

it will be always the same. first, they send messages to your
government, requesting formal first contact. non-threatening,
even polite. they even take the trouble to authenticate their
claims. a little technological secret as a present. trivial in
their mind, highly prized by you, primitives!

then, a meeting. all leaders in one place. clever plot to
assassinate all of you? come on. that only works in cheap
movies. they’ll meet you, and they’ll talk. they only send
a living machine to do it. all the authority they will need.
from a small ship it emerges, a colossal machine form, very
alien, and perhaps intimidating? that’s nothing fancy. wait
until you see their fleet. they like understatement in first
contact scenarios. translation of your words, and theirs.
its going to be perfectly understandable what they want.

matter of fact like monotone robotic voice tells you to
become part of their alliance. which, of course, is not a
wish for an alliance but a command for surrender. they will tell
all of you the exact way how your world will be restructured.
how your political, social, military society has to change,
to evolve. the order of things. they wont mention what they
do if you reject. they even give you time to think. and a
transmission beacon to contact them.

i’ll do you a favor. the truth is easily told: it happened
to my world, too. first, your governments decide to be proud
and independent. then, they start to fight. of course, their
technology has no chance. your world lies in ruins. then,
they land, fortify their positions and begin to weed
out the weak, the criminal, the amoral. yes, they are very
strict in that kind of thinking. a fraction of your population,
genetically and mentally scanned and fit for their high standards,
they will survive. but only if they agree to build their new world,
not yours anymore. and that is all, basically. did i mention
that they have good intentions? that they believe they are
doing YOU a favor? when millions have died and you are one of
the lucky survivors, brainwashed into obedience, you might
think the same.


nations of the earth, so proud and independent, they will vanish.
we give you new purprose, one earth, one government, one nation.
you are citizens of earth, we will give you this as our present.

you will resist us, you fear us, you resent us. you think your pride
and independence is your salvation. we heard this before, many times,
on many worlds. we know what to answer. we know how to purge the unfit.

we judge you by your atrocities. by your wars. by your pollution.
by your treatment of the weak, by your politicial corruption, by
your criminal energy. you are a vile race. but not all of you.

once we are here, selection will begin. our minds, our machines, they
look deep into your souls. the righteous have nothing to fear, the
evil ones, they face extinction. hard is our measure, but just we are.

once destruction is done, which you have brought upon yourself,
the mending of the world shall begin. under our supervision, new cities
will rise, new lights will shine in the darkness, and new hope shall rise.

some of you are welcome between the stars, in our ranks, and they shall
see our home, our lives, our destiny. they shall visit our domain, meet
the wisest of our race, know our names, and be honored among the lesser races.

many will die in the beginning, trying to fight us. it cannot be stopped.
it is always like this. we forgive you. we try not to harm you. but we are
strong, fierce and decisive. you wont interfere with the Order of Things.

Void Glider

from deep behind the stars, the void gliders come,
magnificent, strong, in their bellys death and destruction.
steered by captains of war, commanded by generals of order,
and overseen by the great council.

one planet, sparkling blue in the darkness of space,
one moon, orbiting in silence,
one sun, glowing bright yellow,
the name of our destination is what they call earth.

we bring order, we bring peace, we also demand obedience.
primitives are purged, the worthy shall live.
you will serve the order of things, under the rule of the righteous.
there is no alternative but destruction.

vast is the power we bring, clad in metal and energy,
our minds, our alien flesh, encased in armor, like your knights of old,
we are very unlike you, very strange, very frightening,
our faces are eternally hidden, our masks are cold ice.

we promise peace and prosperity, but only to those we choose.
we destroy murder, war, injustice, hunger, poverty.
we are the solution, you are the problem, but no more.
humanity will be lead into the future, by force.

you will resist. your cities will burn. we retaliate. we purge.
your strength is known, we studied you for a long time.
your weakness is your downfall, searing energy from the sky.
a fraction of your race will survive, we grant you life.