THE ALL- POWERFUL ALIEN

The council housing estate in Bradfield had a growing drugs trade. From behind a wall a young dark-haired man watched the scruffy man, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a baseball cap hand the two small cellophane packets to the two teenagers. The girl and boy moved on trying to look calm. The watcher emerged from his hiding place; his appearance startling the scruffy man. “You are what is known as a drug pusher”, said the young man bluntly.

“You a copper or something?” answered the scruffy man truculently.

“No,” said the young man, whose features seemed to melt and flow into those of Enok, son of the alien Doomlord, “but you have peddled your last narcotic!”

The scruffy man stared up into the piercing eyes that were set into the domed skull; the sharp teeth protruding from beneath a slightly pronounced upper lip. Panicking, he produced a flick-knife, thrusting it at Enok, who side-stepped and struck his assailant hard with the back of his huge fist.

Lying on his back, the terrified drug dealer covered his face as the alien reached down and lifted him by the throat, suspending him a foot from the ground. “You will tell me who supplies you with the narcotics!”

Eyes wide with terror, the man struggled to answer as Enok`s vice-like grip choked him. “N-Nick Prentice. H-He’s a local businessman.” 

“Where do I find this Prentice?” demanded Enok.

“H-he owns a nightclub in the centre of town- The Wild Nite club!”

Enok dropped the man, who sank to his knees, clutching at his throat.

“You will cease your criminal activity forthwith. If you do not then our next meeting will be considerably less cordial!”

The man, rooted to the spot with fear, watched as Enok adjusted his energiser ring. “Teleporting!”

Enok`s molecules reassembled in the alleyway at the side of the Wild Nite nightclub. Seeing no reason to assume his human disguise he walked straight in through the front entrance. A burly doorman made the mistake of trying to stop him. “That’s far enough Doomlord! These are private premises!” The man raised his arm to bar Enok`s path, but this proved futile as Enok grabbed his outstretched limb and swung him heavily against a wall, knocking him senseless. The gloomy entrance led into a room with a large dance floor surrounded by tables. A girl was carrying a tray of drinks from the bar over to where two men sat at one of the tables. A third man was standing by the fire-exit door. Enok strode over towards them; the girl fleeing at the sight of him. The well-built man by the fire door moved to block his way. “Hold it Doomlord!” He barely had time to finish speaking before he was struck heavily by Enok`s fist, sending him crashing into some tables. The handsome fair-haired man seated at the table stood up; the cigar falling from the mouth of the other man. “I’m Nick Prentice, the owner of this club. What do you want here Doomlord?”

“Oh, I think you know Mr.Prentice!” replied Enok. The would-be gangster had recently begun to expand his criminal empire through the sale of drugs and knew that this must be what the alien meant. “Look, I know what you’re getting at but you’re not the police. Maybe we can make a deal.”

Enok waved a finger in admonishment. “You are both deluded and arrogant if you believe that I would compromise myself by colluding with one who purveys such misery.”

“At least I’ve never murdered anyone!”

Prentice`s comment enraged Enok, who was still attempting to combat his primitive urges to kill. Somehow though, he managed to control his temper, and, raising his arm, his energiser ring shone an eerie glow in the men’s` direction. Completely mesmerised, the humans listened to Enok`s commands. “You will present yourselves at Bradfield police station and submit a full confession of your crimes!” Enok lowered his arm and the two men stood up and left. Making his exit by the fire-door, Enok checked to make certain that he was alone in the alleyway before assuming his human identity of Mike Souster. The weather was fine, so he decided to walk home, enjoying the invigorating sunshine.

When Doomlord had originally made Mrs. Souster`s boarding house his base of operations, he had intended to keep his presence on Earth a secret. Unfortunately, with his enemies managing to locate his whereabouts, the secret had ended. His relationship with the people of Bradfield was one of mutual respect. The powerful aliens living in proximity ensured that crime was rare. Some locals had, however, voiced concern about the possibility of being caught in the crossfire should his enemies seek him out once more.

Doomlord`s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. His sudden turn brought a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. He cursed the wounds he had sustained in a recent attack by mercenaries armed with weapons capable of killing him. Despite the wounds healing quickly, he was far from full fitness. Mrs. Souster, who had been having lunch in the lounge while they watched the news on television, got up, taking her plate and teacup with her. “That’ll be Mike. I wonder if he’s managed to find a job yet.” Under an hypnotic spell cast by Doomlord`s energiser ring, Mrs. Souster saw only the faces of her lodger, Eric Plumrose and her son, Mike Souster when she looked upon Doomlord and Enok respectively. “I don’t know what he’d have done without you taking an interest in him Mr. Plumrose.”

“Hi Mum”, said Enok as he walked into the lounge. Doomlord switched off the television.

“Any luck at the job centre?” asked Mrs. Souster.  `Mike` shook his head. “I’m sure something will turn up soon”, she said before making her way to the kitchen. Alone, Enok could now tell his father what he had really been doing that morning. “Our suspicions were correct. The housing estate was indeed the source of the local trade in narcotics. The culprits have been dealt with.”

“Excellent! I trust there will be no further problems?” asked Doomlord.

“No. Are you progressing in learning how to operate Kron`s energiser ring?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Doomlord produced a ring that in appearance was very similar to the one on Enok`s hand. This ring had been removed from the hand of a renegade servitor who had attempted to kill them but, instead had fallen victim to one of the surviving mercenaries. Discovering Kron`s body, Enok had taken the ring from his hand. The ring, unlike the one Enok now wore, was capable of detecting other Noxians in proximity and of shielding their true identities from human technology.

“Technological advancements have been great during my absence and this energiser ring may have other capabilities that I have yet to discover.”

Enok went into the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Souster, leaving Doomlord deep in thought. He believed that the physical limitations placed on him by his injuries had provided Enok with a greater opportunity to prove his worth. His own return a year since had found him having to aid his son in a battle against the strange affliction of killing humans for their blood. This affliction had been caused by Enok`s host, Mike Souster, being anaemic at the time of Enok`s resurrection. With guidance, Enok was apparently winning that battle.

Despite his injuries, Doomlord insisted in continuing his studies of the human race. Even after his several years on the planet he found human behaviour fascinating. He took an interest in world affairs, but also in low-level human interaction. In his current condition Doomlord was unable to sustain human identity for long periods. When Enok returned from the kitchen, he requested that his son join him that afternoon on a further study of the race that they protected.

Doomlord and Enok, in their human disguises, prepared to leave the boarding house. Mrs. Souster called to them from the kitchen: “Make sure that you’re back for seven-thirty Mr. P. Coronation Street’s good at the moment!”

“I wouldn’t miss it”, said Doomlord; the human face of Eric Plumrose smiling.

He had just opened the front door when the telephone in the hallway rang. Doomlord picked up the handset. “Sir Marcus. It has been some time.” The man at the other end of the line was Sir Marcus Thorpe, a senior officer in the Metropolitan police. After listening to what the man said, Doomlord`s tone altered. “I would remind you that I will not be summoned like some lackey!”

What ever it was that Sir Marcus said next made the alien’s demeanour soften. “We will join you presently.” Doomlord replaced the handset and turned to his son. “We must teleport to Whitehall at once.”

“What is it father?” asked Enok.

“I do not know, but Sir Marcus is extremely agitated.”

Enok adjusted his energiser ring and commanded: “Teleporting!”

Doomlord and Enok rematerialised in the office of Sir Marcus Thorpe. With him was the M.P., Stephen Hodges, one of Doomlord`s political allies. “You wish to converse with us?” asked Doomlord brusquely. Sir Marcus indicated two seats next to Stephen. The two aliens remained standing. “What is it that you have to say?” asked Doomlord, increasingly losing his patience.

“Please sit down Doomlord. I have a matter of the utmost importance to bring to your attention.” Doomlord looked across at the M.P. “It’s no coincidence that Mr. Hodges is present. I’ve informed him of the situation and he wishes to lend his support.” Intrigued, Doomlord and Enok took the proffered seats. “The body of the financier Robert Manning was found in the grounds of a maximum security prison this morning. He died of wounds consistent with those of an attack carried out by a Noxian. The Prime Minister was informed and he reportedly went ballistic! I’ve been ordered to arrest you both!”

“Are you quite certain that Manning was killed by a Noxian?” asked Enok.

“I’m afraid that the evidence is overwhelming. The coroner’s report describes the victim’s eyes as colourless and his brain had been shrivelled to a fraction of its original size.”

Doomlord was uneasy. He knew that neither he nor Enok had committed the murder. Enok had wanted to kill the imprisoned financier after it had become clear that he had been responsible for hiring the mercenaries to kill them, but he had persuaded him against that course of action. Manning had been a senior member of the Cartel, a subversive global agency that he and Enok had thwarted. The mercenaries had failed and Doomlord was content to know that Manning would never be released from prison. It was the realisation of who the culprit must be that concerned him. “There is only one possible explanation. Kron is alive!” Enok looked round at his father. “He cannot live! I removed his ring and disintegrated his body!” Enok stopped.

 “Kron must have transferred his life-force to a host, possibly his assailant!” said Doomlord.

Stephen held up his hand. “You mean to tell me that another Noxian murdered Manning?”

“The Noxian that killed Robert Manning is the same one that attempted to gain control of the United Nations` Space Defence System. Without his energiser ring he would not be able to obliterate Manning’s body and it is my belief that he chose his victim with some purpose in mind other to incriminate my son and I.”

“I want to believe what you have told me, but the Prime Minister is of the opinion that either you or your son has killed Manning in revenge. He states that you acted in contravention of your agreement to cease indiscriminate killing!”

“Neither I nor my son are responsible for Manning’s death. If your superiors choose to disbelieve me then they may do so. I would warn you however, that Kron is most dangerous and poses a serious threat to this planet!”

The door to Sir Marcus’s office swung open and two armed police officers entered; their automatic weapons trained at the four figures around the desk. “Stay perfectly still,” said the voice of a third man who emerged swiftly behind the armed men. Superintendent Roper, a broad man in his early fifties with thinning dark hair, had a wide grin across his scarred face, the scar a reminder of an earlier encounter with Doomlord. “Don’t even think about raising your hand Doomlord! My men are equipped with weapons capable of cutting you in two!” Doomlord`s eyes narrowed.

“You have to believe that we had no idea about this Doomlord!” said a stunned Sir Marcus.  “Superintendent Roper, just who do you think you are, marching in here like this?”

“I’m acting with the authority of the Home Secretary. The murder victim at the prison was killed by an alien. Doomlord and his son were already on thin ice! This was one murder too many. I knew it would only be a question of time before one of you killed again!” Doomlord`s impassive features, in contrast with his seething son served to make Roper’s triumph feel slightly hollow.

“Doomlord has given me his word that they are both innocent and that another alien is responsible,” protested Sir Marcus.

“Oh come off it! How many aliens do you think we’ve got running around London? You know your problem Sir Marcus; you’re too friendly with these two. You’ll believe anything they tell you!”

Doomlord may have appeared outwardly calm but he understood that somehow the ammunition used by the mercenaries was in the possession of the authorities, explaining Roper’s confidence. “You know I’m not bluffing Doomlord. You’re coming with us. Before we go take off your rings, nice and slowly, and leave them on the desk.”

Doomlord nodded to his son and they did as Roper ordered. The two aliens rose from their seats. “Sergeant, take up the rear and make sure they keep their distance!” said Roper as the armed men escorted their prisoners from the room. Sir Marcus and Stephen were powerless to act as Roper fired his parting shot. “Oh, Sir Marcus, the Home Secretary wishes to see you.”

“You’re making a big mistake!” said Sir Marcus as Roper picked up the energiser rings and placed them in a plastic bag.

“Save it!” snapped Roper.

Doomlord and Enok were led out to a police van that was parked at the rear of the building. Two more armed officers were waiting to receive them. “No sudden movement Doomlord. I’ve told my men not to take any chances!” said Roper as he closed the doors of the police van. Doomlord looked at the tense faces of the two humans facing them. “Where are we being taken?” demanded Enok. Neither man answered. His father was deep in thought. Somehow they must escape and discover what Kron`s plans were.

Across the city, a meeting was taking place in a luxuriously furnished study. A popular M.P., Alistair Brandon, his secretary and three senior civil servants were seated around a beautifully polished antique table. Brandon, a fair-haired man in his early forties, was delighted with the progress being made in his quest to become the next Prime Minister. “Gentlemen, the scandals involving members of the cabinet are proving as damaging as you predicted! It is only a question of time before the entire party turns on the P.M.!”

One of the civil servants, an overweight man with a ruddy complexion chuckled. “Yes, who would have thought that the Chancellor was feathering his nest with taxpayers` money?”

Brandon smiled. “When Doomlord and his son are under lock and key our plan will be complete! I propose a toast. Elkins,” he said, addressing his secretary, “be a good chap and pour us all a whisky.”

Through the bars in the doors of the police van, Doomlord could see the route the van was taking. They were nearing the centre of London. Twice during the journey he had cast an almost imperceptible glance in his son’s direction. Their eyes had met fleetingly and Doomlord knew that Enok wanted to fight his way out. He hoped that his glance had been enough to arrest his son’s intentions. The humans had them at their mercy…for now. 

The van turned right into a courtyard at the rear of a large police station. The doors were opened by a police officer, while Roper looked on. One of the two armed guards jumped from the back of the van. “You first Doomlord.  Nice and slowly…” said Roper, as the guard at his side trained his weapon on the alien. As Enok passed Roper he snarled defiantly: “You will pay for inflicting this indignity upon us!”

“Not this time-move!” The guard at Enok`s back jabbed his gun between the alien’s shoulder blades. Enok spun round, but Doomlord put a restraining hand on his son’s arm in the nick of time. Boiling with rage, Enok turned away and they were led into the station.

Once inside, Doomlord and Enok were taken straight to a cell, which was furnished with only a bunk-bed, a table and two chairs. Roper ordered them to sit. “Keep your hands on the table and stay still. And remember, my men won’t take any chances!” With those words, Roper left them.

Doomlord stared into the eyes of his captors. They were tense, alert; hand-picked men. He attempted to use the time to assimilate all the facts. To begin with, Kron was almost certainly alive and had killed the Cartel’s financier in order to make the humans believe that he and Enok were responsible. Secondly, the humans now possessed the ammunition used by the mercenaries, the trail leading from the mercenaries to Manning. It was this fact that troubled Doomlord. If Kron had intended to frame himself and Enok for murder any human victim would have sufficed. Was it possible that Kron intended to use Manning’s knowledge of the Cartel to his advantage?

Enok was becoming restless once more. “Father, we cannot just sit here and let the humans degrade us in this manner!”

“Just calm down,” said one of the guards, “take a leaf out of your old man’s book!” Enok slammed his fists down on the table, glaring at the men and angry at his father’s inertia.

For Stephen Hodges the world had gone mad. In recent months, colleagues that he believed to be of integrity had become embroiled in scandals that had seen an end to their political careers. Now, on top of all this, Doomlord and his son were under arrest for murder. He sensed that something was very wrong. He was a personal friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer and he could not believe that he was corrupt. Amid the growing calls by party officials for a new leader, only Alistair Brandon seemed to appeal to the public. Stephen thought Brandon to be all style but little substance but it was becoming increasingly likely that he would be the next party leader. Sighing as the telephone on his desk rang; he picked up the handset and heard the voice of Sir Marcus Thorpe. “Yes of course,” he replied, “I’ll come at once!”

At the technological support unit of the Metropolitan Police, the police constable knocked on the door of the laboratory and entered. “Excuse me sir,” he said, addressing the short, white-haired man in the lab-coat, “I’ve brought over the rings that were taken from Doomlord and his son.”

“I’m almost finished here. I’ll take a look at them this afternoon.”

Stephen Hodges had arrived at Sir Marcus’s office and sat shaking his head in disbelief at what his friend had told him. “I’m to clear out of this office immediately so that Roper can move in as quickly as possible. The Home Secretary has wanted to take a hard line on Doomlord and this murder has given him a chance to do so.”

“Didn’t you try and convince him that Doomlord and Enok aren’t guilty?”

“Of course, But Manning’s death has given him the opportunity he was after.”

It all made sense to Stephen. The Home Secretary was a close associate of Alistair Brandon, who was also known to be anti-Doomlord, and arresting the two aliens wouldn’t damage his chances of retaining his post should Brandon become the next party leader. “What are they going to do with Doomlord and his son?” asked Stephen.

“They have been taken to a maximum security police station until a decision is reached.”

“And all the while the real killer is on the loose planning God knows what. Can’t you try speaking to the P.M.?”

Sir Marcus shook his head. “It’s no use. He’s given the Home Secretary carte blanche on the issue. He can’t risk another scandal reaching public attention.”

Sir Marcus and Stephen sat for a moment in silence, Stephen seeing for the first time how drained his friend looked. “Do you believe Doomlord?” Sir Marcus asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes I do, but what can we possibly do about it?”

Sir Marcus slowly slid open a drawer in his desk and removed a cloth which covered a revolver. “I’m going to try and spring Doomlord out of jail!”

Maintaining his human identity for such long periods had taken its toll on Kron, who lay on the bed in his hotel room. Events had taken a positive turn since his resurrection. He remembered the shock he had felt on seeing the mercenary behind the door at the boarding house. He remembered the pain as he was catapulted down the staircase by the fusillade of bullets. After that, he could remember very little. His instincts must have made him grab out at the human as he came downstairs and, as he died, he had not known that he had scratched the man’s leg. Only later had he realised that he lived on inside the mercenaries` leader.

With the knowledge he incorporated from his host, he had become aware of Manning’s plan of revenge and of the Cartel and its surviving sympathisers. Assuming the identity of one of these sympathisers, he quickly constructed a scheme which began with Manning’s solicitor being lured into a trap in order to use the solicitor’s identity to gain access to Manning. The custom-made ammunition used by the mercenaries was allowed to fall into the hands of the authorities to enable them to arrest Vek and his halfling spawn. With his latest identity it had been simple to assist in orchestrating the scandals involving key members of the government. The seeds were now sown for the Cartel to flourish once more and this time he would remove all obstacles in his conquest of the humans.

“I must be crazy letting myself be persuaded into helping you,” said Stephen as Sir Marcus turned his car into the courtyard at the rear of the police station where Doomlord and Enok were being held.

“You know as well as I do that Doomlord is right. This other alien has to be stopped!” Stephen sighed as Sir Marcus manoeuvred the car into a parking space. They walked round to the main entrance and asked the sergeant on duty at the front desk where the aliens were being held. The sergeant indicated a corridor that branched off the reception area. All the other cells along the corridor were empty. Outside the last cell stood two officers armed with automatic weapons. On seeing Sir Marcus and Stephen approaching one of the men held up his hand. “Sir, I must ask you not to proceed any further.”

Again Sir Marcus showed his identification. “I’m here to interview the prisoners.”

“I’m sorry sir, but we have had no notification of your visit.”

“If you contact your superior officer he’ll clarify things.”

The guard knew that Sir Marcus was a senior officer and it was this that caused his moment of uncertainty. He turned to give a questioning look at the other guard, and, as he did so, Sir Marcus pushed the barrel of his revolver into his back. “Drop your weapons!”

Reluctantly the two guards let their guns fall to the ground. “Move back against the wall!” demanded Sir Marcus, “Stephen, pick up their guns!”

Sir Marcus took a deep breath and opened the cell door. The surprise of the two guards in the cell gave Doomlord and Enok the chance they needed to up-end the table and use it to sandwich the guards against the wall. Both men were knocked senseless.  Doomlord was almost as surprised as the guards by Sir Marcus`s sudden appearance. All at once an alarm sounded inside the building. Stephen, covering the two guards in the corridor, was distracted, allowing the guards to jump him. One landed a blow to his jaw that sent him crashing to the floor. The other leapt at Sir Marcus, who had emerged from the cell.  Doomlord struck the guard on the back of his skull, sending him reeling forward, unconscious. The guard who had hit Stephen picked up his revolver and fired two shots at Doomlord. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the alien before Enok delivered him a knockout blow.

Footsteps were fast approaching as Sir Marcus knelt by Stephen. “He’s out cold!” Doomlord reached down and swept Stephen over his shoulder. Seeing police officers bearing down on them, Doomlord and Enok watched as Sir Marcus fired over the heads of the startled officers. The men dived to the floor. “Enok, break down that door!” said Doomlord, indicating a fire-exit a short distance away. Enok charged down the door, emerging into the car-park much to the surprise of several officers outside. Doomlord and Sir Marcus followed him. “Doomlord,” called Sir Marcus, “my car’s just over there!” They ran to the vehicle, Doomlord placing Stephen on the back seat next to Enok, who climbed in on the other side. Doomlord had barely slammed the passenger door when Sir Marcus pulled away at speed. They could see armed police officers pouring from the building, one firing and hitting the rear windscreen. Struggling to keep his composure, Sir Marcus turned his car out of the car-park, the tyres screeching.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw that three police cars were pursuing them. “We’ll never lose them in the centre of London. I’ll pull over and you’ll have to run for it!”

“There is no need,” said Doomlord, pressing the button on the door. The window lowered. “Enok, we must take to the air…” Sir Marcus could see that the road up ahead was congested and the police cars were closing in. The startling transformation taking place at his side made it made it difficult for him to keep his attention on driving. The alien’s features were shrinking, his arms taking the shape of wings, until Doomlord and Enok had assumed the form of a thrush and a sparrow that flew through the open window high into the sky.

Sir Marcus pushed down hard on the brake pedal, the car narrowly missing colliding with a stream of stationary traffic. Breathing heavily, he could hear Stephen groaning on the back seat as he regained consciousness. The police cars had come to a halt, swirling blue lights flashing all around him.

Superintendent Roper sat in his office. He had enjoyed having the chance to arrest Doomlord. What had the Prime Minister been thinking making deals with murderous aliens? Things would be different if, no when, Brandon became Prime Minister. Yes. Brandon. His popularity had sprung from nowhere, but you had to admire the man. He got results. The telephone on his desk rang, interrupting his reverie. As he listened to the voice at the other end of the line he bit his lip. “I’ll send some men round to his house. In the meantime, let me know if he turns up.” Roper replaced the handset and sat back. Doctor Stafford, the scientist at the technological support unit had not returned from his lunch break and the two alien rings he was to examine had gone. A feeling of nausea crept over him. Had Doomlord been telling the truth? Was there another alien on the loose? If so, then it was unlikely that Doctor Stafford would ever be found. The telephone rang again. His fears that it was further bad news were confirmed when he was informed that Doomlord and his son had escaped from custody. “I’ll be right over,” he said, standing up and hastily leaving his office.

Alistair Brandon relaxed in his arm-chair re-reading the speech he was to give that evening, a speech that would almost certainly secure his election as party leader. He frowned at the knock on the door. It was his secretary. “I told you that I wasn’t to be disturbed Elkins. What is it?”

The face of the young dark-haired man looked troubled. “Vek and his son have escaped.”

“I didn’t realise that you were on first name terms with Doomlord. Anyway, he can’t interfere with our plans when he’s on the run!”

“I am afraid, however, that he will attempt to interfere with my plan…” said Elkins, his features seeming to melt and flow into those of Kron, “so I must take your identity sooner than I had intended!”

Kron reached out with his huge hands and took hold of the politician’s head. Brandon, paralysed with fear, died as the alien absorbed the contents of his mind. Locking the study door to prevent disturbance, he stripped his victim and dressed in his suit. Folding his arms across his chest, his features warped once more…into those of Alistair Brandon, the man soon to be elected as the next Prime Minister.

The two police officers alighting from the car paid no attention to the two small birds that had landed near their vehicle. In lee of the police station wall, the birds began to transform; their plumage vanishing and their wings taking the shape of powerful arms.

“Why return here?” asked Enok, who, in the form of a sparrow, had followed his father’s flight path.

“I think that the superintendent may assist us in our efforts to find Kron…” said Doomlord, assuming his human identity of Eric Plumrose. “He will grant us an audience if he thinks we know the whereabouts of his escaped prisoners.”

Enok also assumed his human identity, that of Mike Souster, and together they walked straight into the building that only half an hour earlier they had escaped from.

A female police officer showed Doomlord and Enok to an interview room and told them that the superintendent would see them shortly. As she left, Enok saw his father’s human face grimace. “What is it?”

“My wounds have not healed sufficiently to withstand this exertion.”

Through gritted teeth he struggled in vain to retain his human disguise. “Enok, you must stop Kron…” said Doomlord, reverting back to his true form.

Roper was surprised as he walked in to find Doomlord sitting before him. “Doomlord! I believe that there is another alien.”

 Doomlord sagged back, his energy spent.

“Is there something wrong?” asked Roper.

Enok answered for his father, who was too weak. “My father is still recovering from injuries sustained during an attack by humans using weapons loaded with the same ammunition that was allowed to fall into your hands.”

“But we must find this alien!”

“Why do you now believe us?”

Roper explained about the theft of the energiser rings and of the growing concern for the safety of Doctor Stafford; the officers sent to locate him unable to do so.

“I will assist you in finding and defeating Kron. You must arrange to have my father returned home. Rest will hasten his recovery.”  

Roper, uncomfortable with the idea of an alliance with Doomlord`s hostile son, agreed to have Doomlord driven back to Bradfield. The fact was that he needed the alien’s help.

After Enok and Roper had seen Doomlord safely off in an unmarked police car, they went to Roper’s office. Turning on a television and video recorder, Roper inserted a cassette into the video machine. “This footage was taken from the camera at the technological support unit shows a faceless man entering the building. Given the characteristic of your race that prevents your image being recorded, we can assume that this man was the same one who went into Doctor Stafford’s laboratory. Minutes later, the faceless man left the laboratory wearing the doctor’s clothing. The car abandoned in the car-park by the doctor’s mysterious visitor is registered to a man who works as secretary to the politician, Alistair Brandon.”

“And Brandon is likely to become your next leader. We must confront Brandon with our knowledge, but now that Kron has retrieved the energiser rings we may be too late to stop him using Brandon in his plan!”

By early evening the venue for the political rally was almost set for what was widely expected to be the defining moment in Alistair Brandon’s career. He was to deliver a speech to the party faithful that would encourage the majority of party members to vote for him in the forthcoming leadership election. In his private room, Kron was becoming increasingly irritated by the fussing of Brandon’s image consultant. “The dark navy suit will be fine!” he said testily. “Blast Elkins for falling ill now of all times. He would have had all of this nonsense sorted out before now!”

One of Brandon’s bodyguards knocked and entered. “Sorry Minister, but the police are here to see you.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve got to make an important speech this evening and I can do without this harassment!”

“They are most insistent sir.”

“Oh very well,” said Kron, sensing trouble.

Kron dismissed the image consultant as Roper and another detective walked in.

“I know you’re busy sir, but we must ask you some questions.”

“Make this brief Superintendent. What is it that you want to know?”

“I’d like to speak to your secretary.”

“I’m afraid that that isn’t possible. He was taken ill and I sent him home.”

“We checked at his home address and he isn’t there. Do you know where else he may be reached?”

“I can’t help you. If I hear from him I will inform you. May I enquire as to the nature of your interest in my secretary?”

“He is wanted in connection with the disappearance of a scientist. We also have reason to believe that you may be in danger.”

Kron pushed a button on the intercom on his desk. “I am not to be disturbed.”

He turned from the desk, now wearing an energiser ring. “You were right superintendent,” said Kron, reverting to his true identity. “Brandon was in danger. No matter, for if I were you I would now be more concerned for my own welfare! Energiser to disintegrate!”

Like lightning, the younger detective leapt at Kron, knocking the alien’s arm diverting the energiser beam to burn a hole in the wall. The features of the younger detective warped into those of Enok, who took full advantage of Kron`s surprise and gripped Kron`s wrist. As they wrestled, their momentum caused them to crash through the dressing room window…and land two floors below.

 Kron was the first to recover and struck Enok, who was on his knees shaking his head. Enok flew backwards, crushing the roof of a parked car on which he had landed. Again Enok tried to recover, only to be lifted by Kron, who threw him to the ground and began kicking him repeatedly. “You have meddled in my affairs for the last time!” snarled Kron, his energiser ring trained on Enok.

Kron died as several automatic weapons opened fire, riddling him with the last of the ammunition that had been used by the mercenaries. The firearms officers that had shot Kron, followed by Roper, ran to where the two aliens lay. Roper helped Enok to his feet. Enok called to the men: “Stay back! I will destroy his remains!”

Stumbling over to Kron`s body, Enok removed the energiser ring from Kron`s hand and found the other in his pocket. Standing back, he put one of the rings on his right index finger and the rind emitted a strange glow as he pointed it at Kron`s body. Within seconds, Kron ceased to exist.

“Is he…?” asked Roper.

“Kron is no more.”

That evening, Enok in the guise of Alistair Brandon, released an announcement to the press outlining his reasons for retiring as a government minister. His fellow Cartel sympathisers reacted in disbelief; their plans receiving a shattering blow. Enok, in his battered state, was heartened to learn from Roper that Sir Marcus and Stephen were to be pardoned.

Materialising in the hallway of Mrs. Souster`s boarding house, Enok could hear the television on in the lounge and went in. Doomlord and Mrs. Souster, who had heard of Brandon’s withdrawal from politics on the ten o’clock news, rose from their arm-chairs as he came into the lounge. Doomlord, already starting to regain his strength, was delighted on seeing his son. “You have come home.”