Gallono wasted no time moving in to finish the battle. He wrapped his arm around Anum’s neck and interlocked it with his other arm to apply an ungodly amount of pressure to the neck and carotid artery.
Anum flailed about in vain with his arms, but the writhing soon faded to the occasional twitch. Just before Anum lost consciousness he looked back at Gallono as best he could. At the last second, the look of fury in his eyes gave way to surprise and recognition. He knew who killed him. Then the lights went out. Gallono held the hold for another couple of minutes for good measure and then calmly stood up and dusted himself off.
Gallono looked past Hastelloy to someone coming from behind. Hastelloy instinctively twirled around and leveled his disruptor at the individual. He immediately relaxed his trigger finger when he saw Mosa standing before him.
She paid no attention to the deadly weapon pointed at her and glided right up to Hastelloy and laid her hands on the disruptor. “Is this doing it the old-fashioned way?”
“It is where I come from,” Hastelloy said with a sheepish grin.
“Someday you’ll need to tell me where that is exactly,” Mosa responded. “For now, let’s get settled in.”
Chapter 55: Might Makes Right
Dr. Holmes sat quietly in his chair, utterly stunned by what he just heard his patient describe. The casual violence of the events was jarring. The cold-blooded murder of dozens of people in their sleep, and the patient told it in an almost jovial fashion: racing his friend to see who could kill the most, cracking jokes in-between, and choking the life out of a man. It was all very disturbing.
The story the patient was telling took an alarming turn, which could either be incredibly good or bad for him. It might be good in that the patient’s anger was bubbling to the surface. Dr. Holmes surmised that a traumatic event happened, most likely the loss or murder of his family, which forced his mind to protect itself by creating the delusion. If Hastelloy truly suffered from a dissociative state, then the rage over the wrongs done to him needed to be let out. The patient needed to face the emotional loss head on, not through the protective lens of his delusion. Venting that anger through a violent story was actually a very healthy way to do it, certainly much preferable to carrying out the violent acts in real life.
The sudden change in tone of the story could also be extremely bad for the patient, and this made Dr. Holmes sit on the edge of his seat with concern. In the beginning, the patient was telling a glaringly false tale. Space battles, thirty thousand year long interstellar wars, a machine that grants immortality, and crash landings on the planet at near light speeds. It was all so ridiculous nobody could possibly believe it, not even the storyteller himself. His subconscious wanted to be proven wrong.
Soon the story moved to the real world, granted five thousand years in the past, but still involving humans, earth, and very few ray guns. The Alpha characters were presented as strange aliens, but they really fit the mold of monsters. They were giant and evil; the perfect focal point for his mind’s anger. There had been violence in the story, but till now it had all been in self-defense or the defense of others. Now the delusion was back to using futuristic tools and weapons. The violence was now cold and cruel. Worse yet, it was against human beings, not monsters. The true nature of the violent images the patient was describing needed to be tested.
Jeffrey realized he had remained silent for entirely too long. The patient took a break from his story telling and waited patiently for his doctor to prompt further discussion. Slowly, Dr. Holmes raised his head and redirected his stare from his note pad to Hastelloy’s eyes.
He looked upon his patient with utter disdain.
“Please excuse my silence, I needed to collect myself,” Dr. Holmes said.
“Collect yourself from what?” the patient genuinely asked.
“You murdered an entire village full of people while they slept peacefully in their beds. Why wouldn’t that shock me?”
“It’s the safest way isn’t it?” Hastelloy responded with a flat, matter of fact, voice.
“It sounds to me like you’re now commanding a pack of thieving, murdering thugs. The only difference is instead of commanding four thugs you’ve swelled your ranks to several hundred.”
“If my goal was to raise an army to take over villages I simply would have opened up the Nexus. That way I’d command a few million disciplined soldiers, not a pack of untrained primitives. I took great lengths to avoid interfering with this planet’s cultural development,” Hastelloy insisted.
“We had hundreds of men, women and children to care for. We were expelled from the city to die in the desert. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” Hastelloy asked. “There’s scorching heat during the day and near freezing temperatures at night. We were out there buck naked; no clothing to retain our sweat to cool us down. No clothing to trap our warmth at night. And above all, we had no food except the locust bodies littering the ground, and even that was vanishing quickly.
“Bottom line, it was us or them. It’s that simple,” Hastelloy defended. “And remember, this was not a village full of innocent people who peacefully kept to themselves to raise crops. They were slave traders. These were thieves who stole other human beings; ripped people away from their families to enrich themselves. Why would I feel the least bit guilty putting an end to their tyranny under any circumstance, let alone securing food and shelter for the exiles?”
“What about the women in the village?” Jeffrey asked. “They were most likely slaves themselves. What did they do to deserve getting stunned and forced to watch a complete stranger walk into the room, point a gun at them, and pull the trigger?”
“The stun grenade causes blindness, so they saw nothing. In fact, they were probably asleep for the entire ordeal.”
“You’re sidestepping the point,” Dr. Holmes continued. “You profess to be so noble and yet you killed innocent people for your own personal gain. What gives you the right to decide who lives or dies?”
“Might makes right. In a battle for survival you’re either with me or in my way and therefore against me. There is no middle ground,” Hastelloy stated firmly.
“Given that logic, I must say that I agree with the Alpha and their justification for attacking the Novi,” Jeffrey declared.
“Why is that,” the patient asked.
Dr. Holmes slid forward in his seat and leaned in to emphasize his point. “Back in ancient Egypt you had the power to conquer anything you wanted, but you were noble and refrained from abusing that power. However, when the going got tough - might made right. Those villagers had what you needed to survive so you took it because you could. If you think about it, that village’s survival depended on your noble conscience and nothing more.
“Now transfer that line of thinking to the Alpha’s situation. They were a relatively backwater people compared to the Novi. They could exist as long as they didn’t have something the Novi needed. It’s not reasonable to expect people to live with that kind of uncertainty if you ask me. ”
“I didn’t ask you,” Hastelloy snapped, taking great offense to the statement.
Jeffrey mentally made a mark in his win column for debates he’d engaged in with the patient so far. Dr. Holmes decided to try for another win by pointing out a glaring flaw in the most recent part of Hastelloy’s story; the barriers were starting to fall.
“Let me ask you a question about an abruptly different topic.” Dr. Holmes said. “Using stun grenades, disruptor rifles, and the speed boat in front of the exiled group goes against your prior philosophy of not interfering with the local culture. Why is Tonwen not jumping up and down to argue this fact with you?”
Dr. Holmes stopped and stared at the patient while waiting for an answer. Several silent seconds passed while the urge to press his point grew to a fevered pitch. Jeffrey fought the impulse as long as he could. He wanted to stare Hastelloy down and force a reply. The problem was Dr. Holmes already knew the patient well enough to recognize the man’s exceedin
gly strong will. He probably had the capability to sit silent and stare Jeffrey down for days or even weeks. Jeffrey stole a glance at his watch, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hastelloy as a subtle grin crept across his lips. Since time was short and the staring contest was already lost, Jeffrey chose to press his accusation further.
“You’re tainting the culture by revealing the use of your technology to them. Why is this all of a sudden not a concern? After all, you just spent over a year as slaves working on the pyramid to avoid cultural contamination.”
“The word contamination implies the undesirable disturbance was allowed to spread,” Hastelloy said so coolly it made Jeffrey want to put on a scarf. “For a man who earlier stated his familiarity with the book of Exodus and the story of Moses, you certainly ask silly questions.”
Dr. Holmes felt a sickening knot suddenly grip his stomach. He sensed more violence and killing of helpless people ahead in the patient’s story, and he didn’t look forward to hearing about it.
“I’m sure that little issue gets resolved for your greater good,” Jeffrey sighed.
“Indeed.”
“Well, obviously I’m not as familiar with the exodus story as I should be. You say you were the original author of the tale, would you care to tell me how it ends so I may expand my knowledge on the subject?”
“With pleasure,” the patient replied.
Chapter 56: Disassemble
Hastelloy stood on the Nile river bank as he watched the speedboat approach. The midday sun had returned to its full intensity with the ash cloud now gone. The sun’s reflection off the glassy surface of the water made Hastelloy place a hand over his eyes to serve as a visor and relax his squinting brow. As he bent his arm, sweat poured off his elbow joint; the sun and heat were positively scorching.
Upriver, a small but powerful boat propelled a chain of ten large flotillas. The scene resembled a tug boat pushing a string of barges up river. The ships took an almost parallel course to the shore, which allowed the entire line of ships to bottom out at the same time.
The captain quickly surveyed the contents of the containers; most had metallic panels and support beams in them. Rimming the perimeter of the container ships were most of the males in their ‘exiled tribe.’ Hastelloy was simply amazed how quickly the dismantling and transportation of the Lazarus’ parts went.
The last container carried the crown jewel of the move. The glowing blue orb of the Nexus was unmistakable. The sphere floated above a metal cube that was three feet tall, wide and deep. It was amazing to Hastelloy that such a powerful fusion reactor was contained in such a small space. Protruding outward from the power box in one direction was a seven foot long, four foot wide seamless metal tube with a Plexiglas top - the regeneration chamber. Loosely attached on the other side of the cube, with exposed wires protruding in every direction, was a sensor array with a medium sized display panel. The makeshift work looked like a two year old tore apart an electrical appliance and tried to put it back together.
“Good thing Tomal isn’t here to see this,” Hastelloy commented to Gallono as the commander jumped down from piloting the speedboat. “Seeing the ship disassembled like this would make him cry, but I’m pretty sure the amateur patch job you did on the sensor array would induce a coma.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Gallono joked.
“Seriously. You have loose wires running every which way. The dish looks like it’s held together with baling wire, and I won’t even go near the power hookup to the Nexus. It’s like you’re trying to give Tomal a heart attack.”
Gallono beamed with pride at the description. “You noticed that did you. Hmm, you might think I did it on purpose or something. Just promise me I get to be there when he does finally see it.”
“We’re going to be stuck on this planet a long time, commander. The two of you will have to kiss and make up eventually.”
“If you say so,” Gallono responded dismissively. Clearly, he wanted the subject changed.
“Were you able to get everything out or do we need to make one last trip?” Hastelloy asked.
“We put everything of value onboard the boats.” Gallono reached behind his back and pulled out the metal plaque that bore the registry and name of the ship. The naming plaque had been displayed prominently on the bridge just outside the captain’s office. The inscription below the ship’s name read ‘Life from death; victory from defeat.’
Gallono looked at the small panel for a few moments with regret in his eyes, and then handed it over to his captain. “It may not feel like it right now, but I’m convinced you have us well on our way to victory in this struggle. A victory snatched away from the jaws of defeat. You know that, right?”
Had Hastelloy been alone he might have allowed himself a few moments of self pity. Having the naming plate of his once proud ship handed to him was a crippling emotional moment. It also served as a reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to accomplish his mission. Hastelloy casually took the name plate from Gallono and set it carelessly on top of the Nexus.
“We’ll find a good place for it,” Hastelloy said. “What about the components that couldn’t be reused?”
“I rigged all the concussion grenades we found in the armory to detonate by remote. The explosion literally blew the whole island off the face of the planet. Nothing will ever be found to show we were there.”
“And what about the workers on the boat, what did they see?” Hastelloy asked.
Gallono let out a soft laugh. “To their eyes it probably looked like the ocean got angry, rose up, and swallowed the island whole. Some of them looked upset to see the pile of sand disappear. I think they got kind of attached to the place.”
“What makes you say that?”
“For starters, they named it. They called it the island of Atlantis,” Gallono said.
“Hmm, an island with advanced technology that suddenly sinks beneath the sea. I have a feeling that will be a legend that gets passed down for generations to come. It’s unfortunate, but no real harm done. Good job, commander,” Hastelloy commended.
“Now we need to move this scrap over to Tonwen’s worksite. Be sure to break down the speedboat and barges as well. We’re going to need all the metal we can get to make this work. We’ll even use that naming plate if it comes down to it,” Hastelloy ordered.
Three hours of hard labor for the exiles spent carrying heavy metal panels into one of the six large buildings in the village passed without any fanfare. Hastelloy let loose a guttural grunt as he heaved one last metal panel up to top off a waist high stack of identical panels. With his labors complete, Hastelloy looked toward the center of the building. There Tonwen sat on the dirt floor staring at page after page of complex diagrams and equations strewn about. Hastelloy walked over to see what progress had been made so far.
“Tonwen, tell me we have enough metal to make it there,” Hastelloy said while looking over the science officer’s shoulder. There were enough torches lit in the building so it was probably visible from space. The effect was dulled somewhat by the countless stacks of metal plates used to make up the hull of Hastelloy’s ship that seemed to absorb the light rays.
Sprawled out in front of the lieutenant were a series of dizzyingly difficult mathematical formulas. Hastelloy saw elements of algebra, geometry, trigonometry, calculus, and even some differential equations. “Would it help at all with the math if I had Valnor and Gallono bring over their fingers and toes?”
Tonwen sat back and ferociously rubbed his temples. “I do not think that will be necessary, though I do wish I had paid more attention in the academy when we were working these equations out long hand. I am acutely aware now that I have grown lazy over the years by allowing computers to do all the work.”
“How does it look?” Hastelloy asked, all joking now gone from his voice. “Will we need to move closer to the city, or can we make it stretch from where we are now?”
“I may have forgotten to carry a one here or there, but I
am virtually certain we have enough material to make it to the rock formation you have targeted.”
“Your virtual certainty is more than enough for me, let’s get started.”
Tonwen let out a heavy sigh and then stood up. Without a word, he picked up his disruptor rifle and walked to the far side of the room where makeshift scaffolding stood. He climbed to the top and pointed the disruptor straight down at a stack of metal plating. Hastelloy mentally crossed his fingers as Tonwen opened fire.
The energy beam hit the stack of metal, and at first it appeared that nothing was happening. Soon the hull plates began radiating heat and glow bright yellow, then electric white. The heat intensified to the point Hastelloy could barely stand being in the room, and then he noticed the glowing tower of metal was shrinking. The stack dissolved into the floor and vanished from view, like a sinking ship disappearing beneath the ocean waves.
Tonwen continued firing, non stop, for another ten minutes until the energy beam sputtered and abruptly stopped. The science officer calmly climbed down from the scaffolding. When he reached the ground he took a moment to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. Then he removed the power pack from the disruptor rifle and replacing it with one that was fully charged.
The two officers tentatively inched to the rim of the hole Tonwen just dug to have a look. The cavity was about 6 feet in diameter and was lined with a thin layer of metal.
When Hastelloy looked over the rim, he was amazed to see it was already about a hundred feet deep and coated all the way down with a seamless layer of metal, which still glowed white hot at the bottom.
Tonwen wasted no time looking down the hole. He casually walked over to the nearest stack of metal and began throwing the pieces down the hole, resulting in a thunderous clatter way down at the tube’s bottom. Hastelloy took the hint and did likewise until the entire stack vanished underground.
Origins Page 33