Space Scout

by S A Pavli

  The Tanseh came down in the centre of the village on what appeared to be a fairly makeshift landing pad, just some cleared and levelled land with gravel spread over it. This appeared to be the village ‘green’, an open patch of land with a large flat grassed area on which some children were playing a ball game which stopped when we landed. After the gleaming high Tech edifices that I had seen, the village looked humble and somewhat shabby. Decidedly ‘Low Tech.”. Were these people the Hianja equivalent of the American Amish community I wondered? Alternative lifestyle certainly but hardly a threat or a problem. We descended from the Tanseh accompanied by our four guards and a couple of robots. I wondered what the locals would make of our delegation.

  “Are they used to visitors here?” I asked Manera.

  “Yes, they have contact with the outside world,” she replied, “They trade their agricultural produce for certain manufactured goods. Their produce is highly prized for its flavour.”

  “But surely Manera,” I protested, “As citizens, they have the right to have whatever fundamental goods they need for their survival free, like all other citizens. Why do they need to trade?”

  “Because the manufactured goods they need are not what is normally available. They need specialised tools and farming implements which have to be specially manufactured,” she replied. I got a picture in my head of a bunch of yokels pulling a plough. A right bunch of eccentrics I thought. Here they are in the middle of a technological paradise and they wanted to get their hands dirty with ancient farming methods and tools.

  We were making our way along the road in the direction of what appeared to be the largest house in the village. There were two or three people visible in the distance, but they seemed to be ignoring us. In the meantime, the children had stopped their game of football and were dashing over towards us , jabbering amongst themselves in high pitched voices like twittering birds. When they came closer they were seized by shyness and stopped ten metres away, pushing and shoving each other and ogling us with big eyes. Peculiarly, the children looked more alien than the adults. Legs were too long, heads too big and misshapen, eyes were goggling and huge and they moved with an awkward gait, like young new born foals. They started poking each other and pointing to me, jabbering in a peculiar accent that I could not follow.

  “What are they saying?” I asked Manera.

  “There is that ugly Earthman,” she said with a grin.

  “Tell them they had better leave before I eat them,” I said with a ferocious and comical scowl.

  “Paul!” gasped Manera “You will frighten the children,” I could not stop myself from chuckling. Manera looked at me questioningly and I explained.

  “On Earth, when you want to insult someone’s appearance, you tell them that they will frighten the children. This is the first time someone has used it truthfully.”

  “You are not that ugly,” she said with a little smile.

  “You are generous with your complements,” are said sarcastically.

  “All right, you are a sexy magnetic animal and I cannot resist you,” she grinned.

  “Better, better!” I said encouragingly. The children continued to follow us, fascinated by my appearance and continuing to put up a barrage of noise. Our four guards were proceeding ahead and behind with the two robots doing the same. The robots were humanoid constructions with slender bodies in a businesslike gunmetal grey. Normally they were domestic servants but they had been re-programmed as security robots and armed with electronic stun guns, the same as the Hianja security staff. The robots were immune from these and also had been reinforced to resist projectiles and laser weapons. A pretty good achievement I thought in such a short time. If the Hianja decided to turn their attention to things military, I was sure they could produce some impressive weapons.

  We were now amongst the houses and on closer examination they were more sophisticated than I had first thought. I could not tell what the basic construction was but they were coated with sleek rough concrete like material that looked pretty durable. I suddenly realised where I had seen the material before; The Base on Omorphia. I pointed this out to Manera and she agreed.

  “They have the same machines as were used on Omorphia,” she said. “They use gravel with a small amount of carbon dust and glue to create a slurry. They make a wooden or plastic mould and pour the slurry in. It hardens into a very strong panel with good heat insulation properties.”

  “Very good,” I congratulated her. “You have past your Master Builders exam. I will present you with your certificate later,” and I winked suggestively.

  “Thank you. I shall frame it and stick it up your....!” she began.

  “Manera!” I interrupted. “Your sense of humour is becoming too Earthy by far,” I remonstrated. She smiled slyly.

  “So tell me about these people Manera, what is their philosophy?” I asked.

  “Well, they call themselves the Kreslatcha , which means the Originals. They believe in recreating life as it was, or as they believe it was, before the Change.”

  “Before the Genetic change you mean, when Men were Men and Women knew their place?” I asked. She nodded with a derisory smirk.

  “So are you seriously saying that these Neanderthals actually live their lives in this archaic way? But why were you concerned about telling me about them Manera, they are just a bunch of eccentrics.”

  “You do not understand Paul. Their thinking is dangerous because it glamorises the evil age. You must have something similar on Earth. A group of individuals who glamorised an evil period and tried to live that life?”

  “Yes we had a tyrant in the 20th Century called Hitler. His followers were called Nazis and they were ruthless in oppressing, torturing and murdering those from other races that they disliked. After they were defeated and destroyed, there were small groups of followers which remained, pathetic louts who glamorised the Nazis. They were small in number but nevertheless caused alarm far in excess of their numbers.”

  “Yes exactly,” she exclaimed, “These people are a living reminder of our evil past, but there is little we can do about them. They are entitled to the protection of the constitution.”

  “You say they are a reminder of your evil past,” I said, not fully understanding her concern. “But actually, they seem to be just a bunch of eccentric farmers. What is there about them which is evil or represents a threat?”

  “They are not evil in themselves,” she said evasively, “It is more what they represent.”

  We were at the front of the large two floor building which seemed to be a village Town Hall of some sort. We walked up the stairs into the building which was surprisingly cool and airy.

  “By the way Manera,” I asked, “Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, I did spend a few weeks here last year,” she replied. “They had an infection with their water supply and we came to find the problem and eliminate it. So I know some of them.”

  A weather-beaten and stringy looking female was occupying a small desk in the foyer of the building we had just entered, and she jumped up in surprise when she saw us. Her eyes widened when she spotted me and she gasped, staggering back and bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. It was the first time I had seen such an extreme reaction at my presence.

  “The Earthman!” she gasped, looking wildly between me and Manera, “What are you doing here?” she asked Manera.

  “Janja, do you remember me?” asked Manera. Janja looked carefully at her before enlightenment spread across her features.

  “Fes Manera,” she said. “Of course I remember you. I have seen you on Sanset with the Earthman. Why have you brought him here?”

  “He is a difficult individual,” began Manera, inclining her head towards me with a frustrated expression on her face. “He wanted to see some unusual aspects of Hianja life, and I thought of your humble village as an example.”

  “A typical male,” agreed Janja, putting on a resigned face. “He wants to see something unusual eh?” she aske
d, “I would have thought our way of life was closer to Earth’s. ” she finished eyeing me up and down speculatively.

  “Captain Constantine tells me that males and females on Earth have achieved equality in all things. There are just as many female leaders as there are males, and that is true of every other field,” replied Manera. Janja looked impressed.

  “If that is true, then Earthmen are not like our men at all,” Janja mused.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “What is this about Hianja ‘men’? As far as I have seen, your ‘men’ are refined and civilised.”

  “The men here are not the same,” said Manera. “These males are original stock.” I gaped at her in disbelief. But before I could say anything more, I was interrupted.

  “You are about to meet some,” said Janja, nodding towards the door.

  I turned to see a number of individuals walking through the door, of an appearance that I had never seen before. These individuals were big and burly, with a thick growth of hair around their heads and faces, like a fringe which grew around and under the chin and merged with the hair on the head like a lions mane. They looked pretty ferocious, with exaggerated bone structure and heavy chins and jaws. Three of these intimidating individuals stomped through the door and strode up to us. Our guards and the robots shifted uneasily and Manera extended a hand and nodded in a calming gesture. The leader, who had a fringe of auburn hair and slate grey eyes stopped and looked with obvious surprise at our party. His eyes fixed first on me, with a start of recognition, and then moved to Manera.

  “Fes Manera,” he said, the same as Janja, I guessed it was some sort of greeting. His voice was startlingly loud and basso. “What brings you back here, and with the Earthman?” he growled, gesturing in my direction. I felt a stab of nervousness. There was something primal about these individuals, something that the modern Hianja male had clearly lost.

  “Like I said to Janja,” explained Manera, “The Earthman wanted to see a community different from the norm. He says that Earth has much cultural diversity, and he was interested in ours.”

  “Ha, you should have warned us Manera, we would have prepared a better welcome for our visitor from the Stars,” he turned to me. “This is a great honour Captain,” he said courteously, “We would be delighted if you would stay and get to know our community.”

  I thanked him and Manera explained that we could only stay a few hours.

  “My name is Hrachik,” said the men’s leader, “And this is Friskna and Sraico,” he indicated the other two, who nodded in my direction. “With your agreement, I will take you on a tour of our little village. Then we can share a drink and talk.”

  I was impressed with Hrachik’s hospitality. He, and the other men, seemed amiable enough and despite their dour appearance I found it hard to understand how they could be considered in any way dangerous.

  “Now, follow me and I will show you around our beautiful village,” said Hrachik proudly.

  “There is a small question that someone could answer for me,” I said as we followed Hrachik’s broad back. Manera looked at me while Hrachik grunted questioningly.

  “My understanding was that original Hianja males were extinct.” Hrachek gave a deep throated grunt of contempt.

  “Yes, I am just a part of the fossil record. Escaped from the museum,” he continued to chuckle to himself, amused by his own joke. I looked questioningly at Manera.

  “They use cloning technology to create males,” she explained

  “Cloned males?” I asked with disbelief, “From what?”

  “From who,” replied Hrachik, “From the DNA extracted from preserved medical remnants, from museums and graves and anywhere where there are Hianja remains.”

  “Good God,” I exclaimed in amazement, “Who was responsible for doing that? When did it happen?”

  “Ah, it’s a long and incredible story Earthman,” said Hrachik, turning to me, “When we have finished the tour of the village, you will come to my home and, with a bottle of Slavictska, I will recount it to you.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, unable to restrain the host of unanswered questions in my head. But I had to because neither Hrachik nor Manera would say more.

  The tour of the village was long and detailed. Hrachik was a great talker and seemed to know everyone in the village and everything about what they did, and he told us about it. But it was a fascinating insight into what Hianja life may have been like before the Change. Automation was used widely throughout the village, they had no problem with that, but they did not use Robots, preferring to do the work themselves. Computers were OK, but not AI. Electric powered Farm machinery and Solar Energy was OK but not fusion power. Ground Transport but not AG flyers. The technology level seemed to be about Earth 20th to 21st Century.

  That was the period which was the ‘heyday’ of Kreslatcha life, and they stuck to it faithfully. This is what brought them into conflict with the rest of Hianja Society, their dedication to a period in Hianja history which was abhorred by Society in general. But clearly the Kreslatcha themselves were idolising and romanticising this period, ignoring the bigotry and exploitation, the brutality of the period, and above all the violence and war which had nearly destroyed their race and their planet.

  They denied that these things happened, maintaining that it was propaganda to discredit their movement. The focal point of the conflict was of course the male sex. Hianja Society saw males as being the vehicle of violence and destruction, but the Kreslatcha believed it was not male aggression which caused the Great Disaster, but female foolishness in releasing the untested personality altering virus.

  I looked for signs of this emotional instability amongst the Kreslatcha males, particularly in their relationships with their females, and sure enough there seemed to be a huge gulf between the sexes. Kreslatcha females seemed to take a subordinate role in all aspects of life. Manera in particular could not accept the need for the females to carry their pregnancies and give birth naturally. The males did not seem to treat them cruelly, but they left no doubt as to who was the boss. The male arrogance that Manera had spoken of was certainly there, and I could imagine that given the right circumstances the dour males could get out of control, but were they capable of racial hatred and genocide? Then I remembered our own 20th and 21st Centuries, the so called first and second World wars, the Muslim conflicts and the massive and widespread oppression and extermination of minorities that took place during that period.

  And it was not women who carried out this slaughter, but men. It was not Women who ordered it or directed it, and justified it, it was men. And the Hianja had suffered even greater slaughter and destruction. The end of Man the Destroyer must have come as a great relief to the long suffering Hianja female. They did not want Him back under any circumstances. And this sad bunch of individuals acting out their fantasies of their glorious past were a constant reminder of that period of insanity.

  But the Kreslatcha perhaps had a point. Ignoring their glorification of the past, was it not possible that the Hianja male under modern circumstances would behave completely differently? Take these males and put them into a modern Hianja Society, bring them up as equals to females and surely they would be quite different? But there was clearly no desire to conduct that experiment, because there was no desire, and in practice no practical way of bringing them back.

  Hrachik’s home was large and comfortable, but hardly luxurious. We sat on hard chairs around a large wooden table while Hrachek’s wife, an ample golden haired lady with large innocent blue eyes served us with chilled Slavictska, and small sweet cakes. Our security team also joined us around the table, the indefatigable robots keeping guard outside the house. The Village had been how I imagined a 20th Century Earth farming Community to be. Neat whitewashed houses and large rambling barns, dilapidated outhouses for the animals and muddy fields. Farming machines of all sizes and shapes were everywhere. This was not a poor community and the evidence of wealth and advanced Technology was everywhere.

/>   “Now Paul, I will tell you the story of how male Hianja returned to life. It happened on the planet Calderon , about ten thousand years ago,” he took a big drought of his drink,a powerful clear liquid reminiscent of Earth’s Grapa . “Calderon was about the tenth planet to be settled by Hianja, quite early on in our expansion into Space. It was a big world, 20 percent bigger than Hianja, with 18 percent greater gravity, and there was great reluctance to emigrate there because of the gravity. But was a beautiful and fertile world, ideal in every way. So, we turned to genetic engineering to help us. A few adjustments and the Calderonians were born with stronger bones and larger hearts and more powerful muscles. Very useful in the United Hianja Games, Calderonians won almost every athletic event. Except for swimming, they were not very good at swimming. This caused some resentment of course, who wants to see an athletics event when you know the first three places would be filled by Calderonians?”

  “The genetic changes pioneered by the Calderonians became very popular with prospective athletes all over the world, and after a few hundred years they became widespread. The Hianja Superman, or Superwoman actually, became widespread. Another idea that occurred to the Calderonians was that Hianja males would be very suited to the heavier gravity. Well, the experiments were more successful than they bargained for. They discovered a way to create an original male baby. Initially they tried to hush it up, but it got out. There was no reason why the Hianja race could not now be reconstructed as it was and spread amongst the stars.” Hrachik looked sober now. We drank our Grapa and nibbled sweet biscuits, and waited for him to continue.