Here we learn the fate of Jennifer as she is captured by the evil Narzuk aliens.

Jennifer was pacing back and forth in their family hideaway in the Brecon Beacons. The house was concealed in a wooded valley and could not be seen from the air. There was no electricity, but there was a wood-burning stove, which heated the house and cooked food. Jennifer’s children, Sally and Robert were playing with a puzzle in front of the burner as Jennifer talked to Peter’s sister, Ruth.
‘I’m fed up with staying indoors all the time!’ Jennifer moved her arms around in frustration, a fire burning in her eyes.
‘Peter did the right thing to tell you to stay here, you’ll be safe, but don’t wander outside. There have been reports of alien patrols,’ said Ruth, trying to calm Peter’s emotional wife.
‘How could he just leave us here? He always leaves us, he’s never at home when we need him!’ Jennifer shook her fist at no-one in particular, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders.
‘When’s daddy coming?’ asked Sally.
‘Soon,’ lied Jennifer. ‘I’m going to get some fresh air!’ Jennifer grabbed her coat and walked out the door.
‘Come back!’ cried Ruth as she ran after her. ‘Jennifer come back!’ she screamed. Peter had warned her about Jennifer’s impulsiveness. Ruth tried to stop her, but then Sally shouted to her, and she ran back to the children, shaking her head. ‘Stupid woman!’ sobbed Ruth.
Jennifer walked through the woods and onto the hills at the top of the valley. It was a bright, sunny autumn day, the air was fresh, and she took in long lungfuls of it. She felt alive and happy as she remembered the times she spent walking with Peter in the hills; good times. She closed her eyes as her imagination ran riot: Peter hugging her and kissing her in the long green grass, the birds singing, She felt a gentle breeze and the warm sun on her face.
Then the birds stopped singing.
There was an eerie silence. All she could hear was the soft breeze. Her heart pounded as she opened her eyes. Her blood froze, and she couldn’t speak. In front of her were two Narzuks in black uniforms. As they grabbed her, she screamed in fear, sobbing, begging for mercy, Peter’s words ringing in her head, “Don’t leave the house.” She yearned to be back in the safety of her home, with her children.
But it was too late.
Now her children were without a mother and a father.
As the alien grabbed her with its thin, wiry arms she looked at its large black soulless eyes, which had red veins running through them. It had light green flaking skin. Its long sharp teeth chattered in excitement as it got closer to her, drooling saliva.
She gasped as another alien put a device into her neck and she became unconscious. They dragged her into a ship and placed her in an incubation capsule, along with a hundred others in the hold of the ship. The ship took off and accelerated at an astonishing speed. It sped over the green hills and mountains of the Welsh countryside, heading for Birmingham.
Hovering over the now-devastated city was a black alien ship over a mile wide, dominating the city, putting much of it in the shade. It emitted grinding and screeching noises, as if it had a cog loose, as much smaller craft of all shapes and sizes navigated back and forth around the ship, like bees around a nest.
Jennifer woke up and was shunted from the small alien ship. Her eyes were open, and she could hear herself screaming, but nobody took any notice. Her arms were strapped down so she could not move. She saw an alien commander in a black uniform, with greenish skin and big black eyes, looking at her perfect skin and well-bred features, like a scientist examining an animal in a laboratory.
She noticed a red armband on the sleeve, then her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the symbol. A swastika?
He ran a DNA scanner over her which beeped and flashed green; he nodded, smiling, his sharp teeth chattering. He pressed a button on the incubation pod and she fell asleep again, sedated. The craft landed, and the alien commander pointed to a larger transport ship.
‘Mothership,’ and pointed upwards. They looked up to see the mothership in high Earth orbit, like a small moon passing through the sky. The incubator pod moved through the air, controlled by another alien soldier in a grey uniform, who looked different from the others, subservient to the black-uniformed Narzuks. Jennifer’s incubator was stowed on the transport ship along with a thousand others from all over the UK. They all had perfect features like Jennifer, perfect skin hair, teeth, nails, and body: perfect DNA.
But the drugged women’s faces were expressionless and empty.
High above the United States Eastern seaboard, in Earth orbit, the massive black mothership, one hundred miles wide, hummed and ground away. Transport ships from all over the world docked to the ship and offloaded their precious human cargo. Thousands of women were being taken inside the black monolith spaceship above them, taken from every continent, all with perfect skin and facial features.
Jennifer, half-conscious, was aware of being transported down a long corridor, before falling unconscious again. When she woke, her heart pounded as she tried to move, but she was strapped down, covered by two wide straps, covering her now naked body. It was humid, hot, and she was lying flat inside a clear incubation pod, she could just move her head sideways, and she could see another pod, with another woman, next to her. She tried to speak, but no one could hear her. She looked into the eyes of the woman next to her—a look of terror, helplessness, and a mouthed “Help me!” A shiver went down her spine, and she took a sharp intake of breath, as an alien, green-skinned, with a white medical type uniform looked at her. She looked into the black eyes, and she thought she could detect a smile as the alien pressed a button, and a metal tube slid into her arm.
She screamed in pain, as it extracted DNA samples. The being collected the tube, smiled again and walked to the next pod. When she moved her head to the left side, she could see two tubes, one coloured blue, with a water symbol next to it. She sucked it and cool water trickled down her throat. Next to it was another wider tube, which she sucked and a porridge-like substance came out. ‘I will survive,’ she whispered in the hot sticky atmosphere.
As she looked up she could see she was inside a huge cathedral, cave-like structure, with a high roof. Lights flickered, and there were multiple floors on either side going up to the roof, like some huge, grotesque Italian Opera House, but on a vast scale. An eerie light shone about the cavern, the incubation pods muffling the screams of a million women. If only she had listened to Pete, her hero, strong blue-eyed, rugged and handsome. He had something of the red-blooded warrior about him. And the name he kept whispering in his sleep. Caius, Who is Caius?


SIRIUS TECHNOLOGY – weapons that could be used against aliens-PR7 RAIL GUN RIFLE

Below is an extract from my dominion first blood series where Vinnie and Peter try out some new
weapons to fight the aliens.

Vinnie and Peter in fresh military fatigues are in a TV room with other Special Forces soldiers. Like many soldiers who have seen a massive amount of combat, they have a wired look to their eyes, known as the ‘thousand-yard stare.’ Peter and Vinnie have it too—they have seen their fair share of combat in Iraq and Afghanistan.
And Yemen, don’t forget Yemen.
The assembled soldiers are amongst the best of the best of the Elite Special Forces, chosen, like Peter, for the Sirius project. Peter waves to someone he recognises from his Iraq stint. They sup their tea while watching a training video on project Sirius weapons technology, and how to operate them.
“This is the PR7 Rifle. It uses electrically-driven, electromagnetic, rail gun technology. This gives a constant acceleration along the entire length of the device, significantly increasing the muzzle velocity. It does not use explosive propellant—it is a strictly kinetic weapon. Each projectile travels at 2000 mph with a muzzle velocity of 1000lbs, enough kinetic force, in one bullet, to take out an armoured vehicle. It takes a magazine of thirty 20mm uranium-enriched projectiles and is powered by a unique electro-mag battery which is inserted into the stock, here. It can also fire a grenade with a range of 1000 yards.”
‘Kinetic energy,’ Vinnie raises his eyebrows. He has a natural interest in new rifle technology, being the best marksman in the regiment.
Peter has read a New Scientist article about a space-based weapon that was fired from a satellite orbiting Earth—a non-explosive, twenty-foot long tungsten projectile, which would hit earth travelling at Mach ten. Devastating. Project Thor or something. But a rifle? He has used the PR7 once before, at Buckingham Palace, but it would be good to get some proper training.
A Project Sirius officer addresses the soldiers.
‘I am Lieutenant Ross. We will go outside so you can train on the weapons. Alien activity is low in this area, but we will warn you of any incoming.’

Peter and Vinnie are in the dry, arid Mojave Desert. There is a light breeze, but the desert air dries Peter’s mouth. Peter looks up at the blue sky; a vulture is circling above. ‘Nice place,’ thinks Peter, as he gulps some water, and puts on his sunglasses. He examines his solid titanium PR7 rifle. He adjusts his sight, loads a grenade, aims and fired the grenade launcher, which takes out a bus—and half the hillside with it. A plume of dust fills the air around them. Peter rubs his shoulder, the recoil from the shot is ferocious—even though he has the strength of ten men, he feels the recoil.
‘Use a pad for the stock, Vinnie, it’s got a vicious kick,’ says Peter. Vinnie nods and then destroys a tank with two shots from the rifle.
‘Now that’s what I’m talking about,’ Peter admires his gun.
‘Nice rifle,’ says Vinnie, ‘I think I’m in love,’ rubbing his shoulder.
A siren sounds as Peter is about to fire another round. ‘We’ve got incoming!’ shouts the Lieutenant as soldiers run for the bunker. Peter just manages to dive into the bunker, and the huge steel door seals behind him as a black alien fighter flies past.



Below is an extract from my dominion first blood series where the President asks questions about the
Sirius Project. It aso captures the atmosphere of what an alien invasion what actually be like.

President Wilson, his young son and three rock-faced and black-suited secret service personnel are going down in a secure White House elevator, deep below the White House. Everyone looks tense. As the steel doors part, and they get out, they see a silver steel train with the American Flag and Seal of the President of the United States emblazoned on it. There are shouted orders and frantic activity as boxes and personnel are stowed onto the train, a stoney-faced Secret Service officer steps towards the President.
‘This way sir.’ Wilson and Scott are seated in the presidential car, along with boxes piled high with equipment. The President wipes his brow and gestures towards his staff, ‘Leave us please,’ as he leans forward to his friend General Scott, then faints as his head falls on the table. The knock to his head brings him around.
‘Frank! Are you ok?’ asks Scott.
President Wilson retrieves a pill from his jacket pocket, his hand shaking.
‘Anything I can to do to help?’ a concerned Scott helps the President get seated. The train moves away and accelerates to a tremendous speed as they are forced back into their seats. Wilson takes a drink of water and the colour returns to his face, but his voice is weak.
‘Bill, protocol dictates that I should hand over to the Vice President if I’m incapacitated, but I don’t trust him. He’s a backstabber, unreliable, power gone to his head. Anyway, he is in London.’
‘We managed to get him on an X-37D, but we’ve had no contact for 24 hours,’ replies General Scott.
‘The Secretary of Defense, Fraser? Nice guy, but I’m not sure he could cope—he’s also missing. I need loyal and competent people by my side. But when the time comes I want you to take over,’ he says, looking at his General. Wilson leans back and takes another one of his pills. Scott nodded.
‘So Bill, what is this Sirius Protocol, and are we ready?’
‘Well, sir.’
‘You call me Frank in private from now on please – we’ve known each other long enough, and I don’t know how long I’ve got.’
‘Okay, Frank. The Sirius Project was first mooted in the 1950s after Roswell. It was classified Above Top Secret so not many people knew about it.’
‘You mean you actually found a spacecraft—aliens?’
‘An alien craft was found. It was damaged but we recovered it and we have been doing research at Area 51 ever since. The aliens were dead but we have kept them preserved for research. Then in the 1970s, there was a secret meeting of the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council where it was agreed to set up and fund Project Sirius. Since then France, UK and China have pulled out, thinking it was a waste of money. Only Russia stuck with us. Surprised eh? Over the years we have built some ingenious weapons, some with technology we gained from the alien spacecraft. But to be honest we’re not sure if it will work in practice, against the aliens I mean. Hold on…’
A panel and a blue phone flash. General Scott picks up.
‘It’s Chip again sir, multiple alien spacecraft have entered the Earth’s atmosphere, satellites are down, most communications are down.’ Wilson leaned forward towards Scott. ‘How come space command can contact us?’
‘Radio technology, the old-fashioned stuff seems to work best in these circumstances. Sir, can I launch the squadrons of F22s?’
‘Do it,’ ordered the President.
‘What chance do they have?’
‘We have equipped the F22s with the shielding technology we found on the Roswell ship. It’s controlled from Sirius headquarters. That’s where we’re heading now,’ Scott loosened his tie and took off his jacket.
The President’s son, Michael, walks in with an aide.
‘Dad, will the aliens be friends with us?’
‘I don’t think so, son.’ Wilson stood up and addresses his son.
‘You will need to be brave.’ The president digs in his pocket and puts a Secret Service badge on Michael.
‘You stick close to me, you’re my new Secret Service agent. Here’s your badge, son.’
They salute each other. General Scott smiles and salutes as well.
‘Where’s mummy?’ asks Michael.
‘She’s in New York son. We’re trying our best to find her and bring her home safe.’ The President looks pale as he hugs his son.
The red phone flashes as an aide walks in.
‘It’s your UN Security Council conference call sir, not sure they’re all there sir.’
President Wilson picks up the phone in eager anticipation of the events in other parts of the world.
‘Prime Minister Johnson, hello Boris, how are you faring?’
The British Prime Minister sounds out of breath.
‘Hello Frank, we’ve evacuated Downing Street and we’re at a secure location – a Sirius base outside London. It’s pretty chaotic, an alien spaceship has appeared over London, the population is terrified, scared the shit out of me, to be honest. We’re engaging now with a squadron of Eurofighters, we’re hoping this new Sirius technology you gave us will protect our planes. What’s that? What’s that noise? Christ! I’ve got to go!’
Wilson looks up at Scott, who shakes his head.
‘Anyone else there?’
‘Yakimov here!’
‘Alexey! How are you faring?’
‘Frank, not well. We have evacuated Moscow, alien craft are everywhere. Most of our Air Force is shot down. Were bunkered down in Siberia. We’re hoping this Sirius technology will help us, our Sukhoi’s have the new technology fitted, the shields, but it’s not working against these alien bastards! I know we have had our differences in the past, but the world must unite now Frank, else we are doomed. To be honest …’
The line went dead. Wilson and Scott shake their heads in dismay.
‘I need a stiff drink,’ the president mutters, head in hands.
‘Are you sure—in your condition?’ as General Scott wanders over to a drinks cabinet.
‘We need to find a solution to this alien threat, Bill.’ Scott is silent as he pours them a glass of whisky from a decanter.
‘Ice please,’ says Wilson as his friend passes him a glass of single malt—Glenmorangie. They sat in silence, trying to comprehend the enormity of their responsibility to the American people, and to the world at large.
‘You know Bill, when I was talking to Yakimov, I felt a sense of camaraderie, like I’ve never felt before. Like we’re all in this together. Maybe this crisis is what the world needs to bring people together.’
‘Assuming anyone survives of course,’ replies General Scott, then adds, ‘The enemy of mine enemy is my friend.’
‘Yes Bill, I take your point, but it’s more than that.’
President Wilson leans forward. ‘I heard from Smith at the CIA of a British guy. Captain Morgan—an SAS soldier of superhuman ability, the strength of ten men. Runs as fast as a leopard, indestructible,’ as he took a gulp of whiskey.
‘They call him Bulletproof Pete,’ smiled General Scott. ‘We tried to recruit him before but failed. Smith put a request into the British Government to put him on an X-37D in return for Sirius technology. They agreed. The British stopped funding the Sirius project so they’re short of kit.’
‘We need answers Bill, and fast. I pray to God he’s on his way.’ The President looks earnest, like a father awaiting the safe delivery of a child.
‘God speed Captain Morgan,’ prays Frank Wilson as he finishes his whisky.

An experimental, sleek-looking plane, black as the ace of spades, emerges from an underground hangar, X-37D emblazoned on the fuselage. It looks like a cross between a space shuttle and an SR71 Blackbird, brimming with stealth technology. It launches into the air and quickly accelerates to Mach 3. The skin of the plane shimmers and becomes semi-invisible. Destination: an air force base in the North of England.

The story continues in…


This scenario plays out in space command USA and the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs committee.

In Space Command, Chip punches up a program to transmit prime numbers. He presses a red button and numbers flash up on the screen; they are transmitted on all frequencies.
‘I just hope they are friendly,’ he mutters to himself, a knot of fear in his stomach. He looks around him, at his colleagues. Some are grim-faced, a few younger ones look like rabbits caught in a truck’s headlights. His friend Leonard is dialling his girlfriend under his desk, trying not to be seen.
‘Get out of New York now!’ he whispers.
‘But I have a hair appointment.’
‘Forget your appointment. Get out of New York now. Aliens are coming!’
‘Will they be friends with us? What shoes shall I wear?’
A military space shuttle flies out of the Earth’s atmosphere into space. President Wilson and General Scott watch from the shuttle’s onboard camera.
‘What can you see, Commander?’ asked Wilson.
‘The object is approaching fast: 10,000, 3,000, 1,000 miles. It’s slowing down—it’s huge, sir!’
‘Are you able to send a signal to it?’ asks a white-faced Wilson.
‘Trying on all frequencies. Sir my controls are frozen, I cannot steer the ship. I have lost control. I’m locked in some sort of tractor beam!’ Wilson and Scott look at each other. The joint chiefs stand crowded around the screen.
‘Sir, it’s destroying all the satellites. The ship is opening—Fuck!’
Laser beams emit from the lower section of the massive spaceship. Satellites in the immediate vicinity are destroyed like a bat feeding on mosquitoes. The shuttle drifts helplessly towards an opening in the spaceship. The Space Shuttle disappears inside as the screen goes dark.
Back in the White House, an agitated Scott confronts President Wilson.
‘Shall we launch a nuclear strike, sir?’
‘We are not certain of their intentions yet, let’s wait.’
‘But they have destroyed a bunch of satellites!’ the General exclaims.
The president looks pale and ashen.
‘Shall I invoke the Sirius Protocol?’ Scott looks Wilson in the eye.
‘The Sirius Protocol? I didn’t think that was real I thought it was just a ruse to get extra funding for the Defense Department.’
‘Oh, it’s real sir, a preparation for an alien invasion. After Roswell, we knew we had to prepare for this eventuality one day. With your permission, I am invoking it now sir. We have to move you to a safe location before it’s too late.’
Wilson appears shaky and drawn.
‘Do it. Fetch my son, he’s in the East Wing. And my wife, she’s at a charity event in New York. Do it now!’
As he looks out of the White House window, he realizes that the strange creature, Cassian, was right. The question is are they prepared?

The black monolithic spaceship stays in Earth orbit, unhindered. Eighty smaller, but still huge spacecraft, each one-mile wide, emerge from the mothership at precise intervals, each one as black and ugly as the mothership, making their way around the globe to all the main cities and population centres.

Jayesh Jindal, wearing a smart suit, pin backed hair and glasses, is sitting in her office in Vienna, her brain reeling. She is on her third cup of coffee, well beyond her normal limit of one a day. She is an Indian astrophysicist and works for the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs committee. The office is charged with making first contact with aliens, and Jayesh is its ambassador.
She wipes her brow with a tissue as she strides into the small control centre where her staff of five are in a frenzy of activity.
‘Has the friendship message been translated?’ Jayesh puts her hands on her hips.
‘Yes ma’am. English to Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, Arabic and Hindi,’ says a smart looking Chinese girl with glasses.
‘Transmit now, Li.’
‘Okay ma’am.’
‘Where is your family?’ asks Jayesh.
‘Salzburg, ma’am.’
‘I have a bad feeling about this. Leave now. It will be safer than Vienna. Same for the rest of you. I will pack up. Go!’ she shouts. She watches as her staff grab their bags and rush out the door, then she walks to the window. Down below, crowds of people are running in the streets, in all directions, cops failing miserably to control the traffic, cars crashing, and shops being looted. ‘This is how it starts’, she thinks.

The story continues in


This blog has a go at how an alien invasion would start.

Two junior astronomers based in the communication complex are doing the night shift. Banks of computers and monitors line the walls. Nick, longhaired, scruffy, unshaven and hung over, nods off then sleepily gazes up at his screen.
Nick grimaces at his coffee and then looks at his screen again. ‘Chris, have a look at this. Is this shit coffee making me see things or can you see an object moving towards Earth?’
Chris, even more longhaired, and even scruffier, stares at his screen.
‘You mean that object?
‘Yes, I mean that fucking object—it’s not an asteroid, it’s too solid! Call the boss,’ says Nick.
‘You mean bell end?’ asks Chris.
‘Just call him,’ orders Nick.
Chris is on the phone to his boss. ‘Yes sir, we have a very large object moving towards Earth… about 100,000 kilometres distant and closing fast. Speed? Hold on a minute. 20,000 miles per hour. No, hold on. Sorry sir, it’s changing, 19,000 miles per hour. Can’t be right. How can it be slowing down?’
In Air Force Space Command (AFSPC) sits Chip, a young, muscular, crop-haired space radar operator. He is surrounded by other operators and banks of screens. In the front of the huge room is a screen twenty feet tall and fifty feet wide showing every single satellite and other space objects, and their position in Earth orbit, shown in real time.
Chip gets excited. ‘Sir! I’ve picked something up on the space radar. It’s coming in fast, sir.’ His superior, General Grimbald, looks annoyed.
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Why’s that?’ asks the General, showing his yellow teeth.
‘Because it’s slowing down, sir!’ General Grimbald looks agitated.
‘Must be a fault in the system,’ he replies, his eyes darting this way and that.
Chip is frustrated. ‘But sir!’
‘Do a full system diagnostic. That’s an order!’ barks the general.
‘But sir that will take three hours!’ Chip is jumping with agitation.
‘Do it! That’s an order! The only reason you got this job, Lieutenant, is because that jumped-up asshole of an uncle of yours is in the White House.’
General Grimbald walks away. His greasy, black hair is in contrast to his pale, unhealthy-looking face. His dark, shifty eyes dart back and forth as if searching for something, he then checks his watch. Chip waits until the General leaves, then discreetly taps out a message on his mobile phone, then decides what he is going to do. Disobeying a direct order could mean a court-martial, but if the Earth was being invaded, he needed to do something.
He finishes the message to his uncle, General Scott, in the White House and decides to wait for an answer. Running a system diagnostic would consume a lot of computing resource. A bead of sweat drops from his forehead, as he looks at his colleagues, hoping he has made the right decision.


In Iraq, which was once known as Sumer, an aging, bearded archaeologist, Professor Picard, excavates under a rock statue of an ancient Sumerian goddess. The perfectly preserved goddess wears a headdress, she is naked, her breasts prominent. In her hands, she holds what looks like an ankh, she has wings like an angel, and her feet are claws. On either side of her are two owls. Next to the goddess is another statue that has a sword, and jagged teeth with the face of a skeleton, and it has wings. He smiles and nods to himself.
‘This is the one,’ then looks at his skinny, bespectacled, male undergraduate assistant.
‘Sumer was the first civilization you know. But there is a mystery: how did they go from mud hut dwelling fisher folk to pyramid building mathematicians, and so quickly? That is what I hope to find out, mon ami.’
‘If anyone can find out you can, professor,’ replies the sweating assistant. His reputation is legendary. PhDs in archaeology, anthropology, philology, biochemistry, physics, mathematics, and electronics. President of Mensa, consulted by world leaders. Eccentric, but his intellect is unparalleled.
Under the blistering hot sun, the professor uses a brush to wipe away the dust, revealing a stone slab. Then he uses a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat and dust from his face. As the hot desert sun beats down on his back, the professor takes a swig from his water bottle. Along with his young male assistant, they manage to move the slab to reveal a dark chamber.

They struggle through the small entrance and fall heavily onto a stone floor. There is Sumerian cuneiform writing on the ancient stone walls, and in the middle of the chamber is a sarcophagus. The professor studies the writing, running his finger along the cuneiform characters. “Ah oui…oui, ‘The Shining One from the stars—here he rests.’ ” The assistant listens intently as inside the chamber, it is cold, and there is an eerie silence. He shivers and looks at the professor.
’This place gives me the creeps,’ he whispers.
‘Let’s move the top slab,’ gestures the professor.
‘What do you think is inside, Professor?’ asks the assistant almost too afraid to ask.
‘Only one way to find to find out!’
‘Christ, it’s heavy! Here it comes,’ replies his assistant.
They manage to move the slab just enough to reveal what is inside. Professor Picard is shocked at the sight that confronts him. In the sarcophagus lie the mummified remains of an alien creature. It has a large oval head and large eye sockets, where the eyes were. It has long thin arms and legs.
‘Sacre bleu! Sainte Mère de Dieu—it’s not human!’ exclaims the professor.
‘Look at the size of the eyes!’ whispers his assistant. They cross themselves, the professor whispers a prayer, and they edge closer to look at the alien mummy. Professor Picard takes photographs of the ancient writing and mummified alien, while his assistant takes flesh samples from it, being careful not to damage the alien.
‘We can analyse these later, back at the university,’ orders the professor as they make their way out with their equipment. While the assistant loads the gear into their jeep, the professor stands silently looking at the sky.
‘Penny for your thoughts Professor,’ as his young student stands by him.
‘Mon ami, there is a change in the air.’
‘What do you mean, Professor?’
The professor looks at the young man but doesn’t want to frighten him unnecessarily. He needs to talk to his adopted father, his secret protector, from early childhood. He turns and smiles at the curious young man.
‘Take the equipment and samples back to Berkeley. I must travel to Europe, to see an old friend.’

If you are interested in ancient aliens, UFO’s, government conspiracies, vampires, superheroes, ancient legends, the supernatural and ancient history then you should check out my books

I am Caius aka “BulletProof Pete”

Hello, I am Captain Peter Morgan aka “BulletProof Pete” (that’s what my fellow SAS friends call me anyway.) I live in the Brecon Hills with my family, in a secret hidden valley away from the stresses of modern life. I thought I could run away from who I really was – some sort of super hero, with super human powers – but I never asked for this

I was born with it.

From an early age I knew I was different. My father was also in the SAS but I only found out after he died. On a black mission. He named in Cai, he said it was an old  welsh name meaning Kay, the bravest of Arthur’s knights. Maybe he knew something –  I knew I was different. Faster, stronger – than all the other boys at school. People started to notice.  Then I joined the army. Later I passed SAS selection with my best friend Vinnie. Vinnie’s an oddball – his family are gangsters from the East End of London. He had a choice, be a gangster or join the army. But Vinnie is my brother and I don’t care what people say about him, we have each other’s backs –  We are brothers in arms.

I keep getting these visions – when I was Lost in the desert in Yemen. I was on the point of death. Then I had a strange vision of a priest and an ancient book of prophecy, and a sword of unspeakable power. Then the Archangel Michael appeared in all his glory, powerful, majestic and kind and gave me a golden cup. Michael tells me my name is Caius (the Latin name for Cai) and tells me I have a destiny to fulfill.

I cannot escape my destiny. No one can.

My visions continue, a dark cave, something diabolical within, fear grips me – but one day I must face it whatever it is. It gives me nightmares. Then a blackened sky and an ancient race of aliens invade earth in a monstrous ship. Then a woman of strange beauty appears in my dreams trying to contact me. She lives in an ancient stone city on seven hills. Long dark hair, fierce blue eyes and a wild gypsy look about her.  Then I’m on a battle field, in the desert, in a Roman uniform, fighting Egyptians, then I’m lying in the sand, vultures circling above me.

I almost forgot my nickname – “BulletProof Pete,” because I never get hurt, so  many missions, so many battles, and not a scratch. Now the yanks want me to fight for them. But I’m British, I fight for Albion. Now I’m fighting for the yanks. Politics – it wasn’t my choice – seems I’m a pawn in a bigger game. This Lucia though – when I first saw her it was like I was struck by lightning. The attraction is magnetic and a sense that I have known her before.

I have a sword and only I can summon it – it is the Holy Sword of my patron – the  Archangel Michael. Aeons old. Omnipotent and all powerful – but loving also. The sword nearly destroyed me the first time I summoned it. But I’m getting used to it. But do I control the sword or does it control me?

I am BulletProof Pete, but I am also Caius, the warrior who incarnates every 1000 years to save mankind. I must become the hero everyone wants me to be. It is my destiny.

For myself. For my family. For mankind.

Read about my story in HERO – the Dominion First Blood series – click the link below.

And please share.

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I am Lucia – a Vampire

I am Lucia.
I am a vampire.
I have been a vampire for 2000 years.

I have seen the fall of the Roman Empire, I have seen two World Wars
and now its another war – invaded by an ancient enemy. But more of that later.  My lover is BulletProof Pete and together we save the world.

I was born in Hispana, of gypsy stock – I have wild blue eyes and long thick curly hair. When the Roman soldiers invaded our village they took me, and I fought like a demon, felling three soldiers – before they captured me.  The Tribune said I fought like a wild stallion – he admired my spirit, and I could see the lust in his eyes, but I did not like him.  He took me to Rome. Then we travelled to Egypt, with Caesar’s army and fought a great battle against Ptolemi, the brother of Cleopatra. There I met the hero of the battle, a centurion, Caxus. Brave, handsome, rugged, honest. The attraction was instant – like we had been struck by lightning. It was fate. Caesar blessed our marriage. Later Caxus became a land owner, given by Caesar for his service, where he grew grapes, up in the North.

Our house, our villa, was set on top of a hill, the Aventine Hill, one of the seven hills of Rome. We were comfortable, we had slaves, and a herb garden where we used to sit and drink wine under the warm sun, and smell the rosemary. We had a good life.

One day I went to the slave market and I saw some slaves from Gaul, my heart beat faster, as among them I saw an elegant and beautiful girl, like a Greek Goddess. I took her in, I found her irresistible and we soon became lovers. Sometimes Caxus would join us – we were happy.

One evening I was walking with Caxus outside the city walls, in the warm evening air, watching the stars, but we were attacked by the ancient enemy – the alien filth. They murdered my husband, as he tried to save me. I was saved by a night creature – a vampire. He told me his name was Cassian, and that he was the leader of all vampires, and I felt safe with him. He said one day I will get my revenge – the ancient vendetta still lives.

It was there that I was ‘made’ a vampire by my master, Count Cassian. After the fall of the Western Roman Empire we moved to a castle, his ancestral home in Transylvania. During World War Two we fought the Nazi’s, invading their secret bases. It was there that I met my ‘uncle’, Louis Picard, a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany – we adopted him, and he grew up to be a brilliant scientist. I have found a family of sorts, my master Count Cassian and Uncle Louis.

Now I am fighting the alien filth, the ancient enemy of the vampires, with my lover, BulletProof Pete. He has a great destiny in front of him, though hes seems reluctant to confront it. He has a secret name also, and he reminds me of my husband in Rome, Caxus somehow. The memory is burned deep into my soul – If I had one that is.

Read about our story in HERO – the Dominion First Blood series – click the link below.

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The Blind Beggar Pub

The Blind Beggar is a famous pub on Whitechapel Road in Whitechapel, East London, England. It is was here that the first modern Brown Ale was brewed for Manns Albion brewery. It was built in 1894 and takes its name from the legend of Henry de Montfort, a son of Simon de Montfort (who led the rebellion against King Henry III of England).

The Blind Beggar pub is notorious for the murder of George Cornell (one of the rival Richardsons gang) by Ronnie Kray. On 9 March 1966, East End gangster, Ronnie Kray, one of the Kray twins, walked into the saloon bar of the Blind Beggar Pub and in full view of the customers, shot George Cornell through the head, as he was sitting at the bar,

It is also the location of William Booth’s first sermon, which led to the creation of The Salvation Army. The pub is also a popular starting point for the Monopoly Pub Crawl, and was previously owned by Bobby Moore.

Henry de Montfort legend
in 1265, Henry De Montfort was wounded and lost his sight in the Battle of Evesham. He was nursed to health by a baroness, and together they had a child named Besse. Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, published in 1765, tells the story of how he became the “Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green” and used to beg at the crossroads. This story of how he went from landed gentry to poor beggar became popular in the Tudor era.

My visit to the Blind Beggar Pub
As the Blind Beggar Pub is in my book, Dominion First Blood, I decided to visit the pub and got chatting with a friendly local, Bob Fox, retired from the 2nd Royal Regiment Infantry. We had a couple of pints of beer together and he reminisced of the days when Mad Frankie Fraser (a notorious member of the Richardson gang) used to visit the pub and pointed out where George Cornell was shot.

This friendly pub (the gangster days are gone now!) is run by Landlord David Dobson. It has an excellent selection of ales and craft beers and friendly staff.

In my book, Dominion First Blood, the Blind Beggar is the local pub of East End gangster Vinnie “the Terminator” Carson.

Our hero, Bulletproof Pete is helped by childhood friend Vinnie (two SAS heroes) and Lucia, a sexy vampire. What can possibly go wrong?


HERO Out now on Amazon in paperback and kindle