Line Cmdr. Sundeelia: Remembrance – Part 3: “Tazo”
Despite what many of you believe or think you believe, understand that even in the higher realms, we are not perfect. We are always endeavoring to discover new ways to serve our family, our home, our people, the Command, and all Life. Just because you reach the fifth dimension with your personal frequency, it does not automatically translate that you no longer have more soul growth ahead of you. Evolution is never over as the Creator is always exploring and experiencing the Universes through us, its fractals as have been sent forth from Source. It is arrogant and terribly ignorant of one to claim that they are done with their spiritual evolution for it denotes a spirit of rebellion and separation from Source energy.
Born to a family of Pleiadian Angelics, I am striving to bring into balance my own inner divine masculine and feminine energies, in the same manner as are many awakened lightworkers on Earth today. Although I naturally resonate and live in 6D to 7D, I live and function in 5D along with the rest of the crew members of The White Winds. And with this small portion of my consciousness now residing in this 3D Earth human vehicle, I am attempting to confront, sort through, transmute and release those memories most traumatic to me during the ancient Galactic Wars.
As with my predecessor in this vehicle, my elder sister Tazjma Amariah Kumara VaCoupe, many of my lifetimes within this quadrant of Creation have been as a male, if you will, an alpha male, a natural born warrior and protector. Part of my purpose in coming here, as I have stated above, is to discard of what I no longer need (the pain, guilt, blame, etc.) and to embrace that which is of benefit to me (love, compassion, wisdom, tenderness, devotion). Coming into balance is not an easy proposition for one who has stood face to face with the enemy more than once, even if the confrontation took place on a viewing screen of a command deck. One needs to release the anger, fear, blame, and shame that linger within a survivor who has witnessed the death of many, including family members… especially family members.
Now we come to a tough spot for me to look at once again. I will write this part of my tale in story form which allows me to move through the events more dispassionately…
The young Sirian commander was in the process of pondering a puzzle put forth by his mentor. For a moment he allowed his gaze to fall upon his companion. As a Sirian lord, he had seen many of the Sirian feline species as they visited the palace of his grandfather, Lord Krishna. He was fond of these people… for him and his people considered the feline species as humanoid and hence by definition “humans”. They were very tall, walked upright and were very highly intelligent, strong, dedicated Sirians. The leonine people especially were utilized often as guards for the temples and the palaces of the great although the Sirians did not fear violence from their own people.
However, this adopted Pleiadian who now stood nearby, gazing out a window into the dark skies beyond, was different. Commander Lyonell had taken the entire Pleiadian fleet under his spell through his dominating personality, commanding wit and intelligence. His psychic abilities were extraordinary. His memory was astounding. His entire being exuded tremendous power and ability, and yet, there were moments of extreme tenderness and concern where the Commander reached out to aid and comfort a crew member when they learned of a death in their family or an incident on their homeworld. The man was not without a deep and abiding sense of compassion for all who came within his sphere of influence. And so it was when the young Sirian gasped in surprise and grief, the Commander moved quickly with his characteristic feline grace to the man’s side.
“What is wrong, Commander Delos?” It was months since Delos had arrived on the Pleiadian ship, The Golden Falcon, for training alongside Commander Lyonell, but the Pleiadian commander retained his formality when it was required.
The commander’s great golden eyes studied his Sirian companion. The young man… young in terms of Sirian years… was tall and slender. His pale skin was blanched, his green eyes bright with tears and shock. He whispered, his voice taut and strained with emotion, “Tazo… my brother… his ship is under attack!”
“What do you see?” asked Commander Lyonell. The Pleiadian commander knew of the Sirian’s deep connection with his family, especially his younger brother. Apparently, they had spent many lifetimes together, often as twins. In this life, Delos was the elder, their ages separated by some five years. Still, the soul connection ran deep and powerful between the two siblings.
“I…I…, “ Delos blinked, again, tears splashing down his cheeks unheeded. He looked within and saw…
The ship was jolted by another barrage, sending debris everywhere. It was hard to see through the dust and confusion. Tazo grabbed onto a railing to pull himself upright and was thrown again against the bulkhead. His ears were streaming blood from the impact. As he stumbled down the passageway, he bumped into another crew member. “Carlos? Are you okay?”
Carlos looked up at his commander, and then looked down towards the command deck a short distance away. “The ship is going down?”
Tazo nodded abruptly and turned back to his command post, striving to steady himself on nearby stations. The view monitors were no longer functioning, but the trajectory of the ship was obvious; they were about to crash into the isle below.
He scanned the isle with his extended senses. It was only lightly populated, a moon actually on the outer fringes of the Sirian star system. He could sense the ships that were attacking his vessel coming in for the kill. No! He would land this ship if it took all he had within. Telepathically he connected with the Command Mothership, the Golden Lily, “Comrades, we are under attack! We are now entering the atmosphere of J___ a moon of Satus.”
The reply came swiftly, “Commander Tazo, we are aware of your situation. An attack squadron is on the way!”
As Tazo turned his attention to the navigation post, he felt his brother tuning into the situation. “Brother…”
Tazo felt Delos nod as their minds melded in their own unique way. He felt his brother’s strength and determination flow into his bruised body. He focused on the controls in front of him and took control of the faltering vessel, bringing her back into alignment. He knew that damaged as she was, they could not escape via hyperspace and needed to land on the moon. Whether or not any of his crew would survive depending on how quickly help arrived. The ship was too damaged to go far.
The ship shuddered as yet another barrage struck the outer hull. Tazo began to cough. He sniffed the air and scanned the ship. Fire! He attempted to contact other surviving crew members. One familiar mind contacted with his own, “Jon, there is a fire on board!”
“I know, sir,” replied Jon, one of the navigation staff. “It’s in the engines, sir!”
Unlike the more sophisticated Pleiadian vessels who utilized crystalline energy, some of the smaller Sirian ships still required fuels. This scout vessel was such a one, not outfitted for long distance travel outside the star system. The Sirian fleet was in the process of building ships similar to the Pleiadian design, but that took time, manpower, and many credits. Under attack from many sides by the enemy, the Sirians could ill afford to lose even this small vessel.
“Take care of it, Jon!” Tazo ordered telepathically, knowing his loyal crew member would do what he asked. He felt the assurance and determination as the crew member went off to gather others to repair the ship’s engine array.
Tazo gritted his teeth and concentrated on the controls. As he passed his hand above them, the dials glowed. With his strong mind, he guided the vessel towards a likely landing spot on the surface of the moon. Fortunately for the Sirians and their ship, the moon was primarily an agricultural isle, mostly flat or gently rolling country broken up by low fences or scattered farm family compounds. Dividing his consciousness between the rapidly approaching planet surface and the controls, he guided the ship towards a landing spot.
Just before the ship landed, it shuddered once again. This time the blow sent the vessel into a spin. Tazo was thrown against the bulkhead. Dazed he tried to concentrate on the task when the vessel came to an abrupt halt on its side. Tazo crawled to his feet. The smoke from the fire was stronger now. He sent an order to evacuate the vessel, “Now!”
As Tazo and a few other men stumbled out the landing ramp, they came under fire from an enemy vessel that was above strafing the ground around the vessel. As he glanced up, Tazo felt something strike his leg, sending him crashing to the ground. Smoke billowed out of the Sirian vessel. The men needed to get clear, but the attack drove them closer to the wounded vessel as they sought cover. Tazo was now coughing hard. He covered his mouth with his hand only to pull it away in dismay. His hand was covered with blood. It was internal bleeding from some wound that he had not even registered in the flight. He swayed and then pulled himself upward as another crew member reached out to support his weight.
A sudden piercing mind scream crashed through his sensitive consciousness and he managed to peer skyward. A dazzling light broke through the dusty atmosphere and hit the attacking enemy ship. Help had arrived! The drone of other Sirian ships began to fill his ears. His men were going to be safe!
Tazo crumpled to the ground, exhausted, bleeding from internal injuries and coughing from heavy smoke inhalation. Just as another Sirian ship landed beside his wounded vessel, he fell into a coma. He died later of his wounds. His men and his family grieved for this loss. His brother, so far away from home, grieved also.
Commander Delos broke off contact with his dying brother. He cried out silently, “Father!”
“I AM Chananda. My son… you know?” Delos felt the presence of his great Father surrounding him with a blanket of warm love and concern.
“Yes, I saw everything…”
“Ah… of course you would. The binding ties of love are strong between the two of you.”
Delos felt another presence intrude into his inner dialogue, “What has happened, Commander Delos?”
The Sirian looked around in confusion for a second or two and then regained his composure. He nodded to the Pleiadian Commander, “Lord Lyonell, my brother has been wounded in battle.”
Lyonell’s golden eyes rested upon his Sirian companion with compassion. “Is he gravely wounded?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the younger man. “He is dying. They are taking him home to Sirust even now.”
Lyonell rested his heavy paw-like hand upon the Sirian’s slender shoulder, “Then you will be going home now?”
Delos looked up at the pale violet sky outside the viewing screen with its two pink moons and thought for a moment. Then he turned to the Pleiadian, shaking his head fiercely, “No, sir… my Father will understand. I must complete my training here with you. I will honor my brother later.”
The shrewd golden eyes of the Pleiadian searched the young commander’s pale determined face. He thought to himself, “Hmmm, our mutual enemy has made a mistake in attacking a member of this young man’s family…”
He was right.
Thus ends the third part of this Remembrance series.
I AM Sundeelia VaCoupe, Line Cmdr., of the Pleiadian Flagship, The White Winds.
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