by Grover Young
Well, unless we could somehow get our hands on that copy. Hell, we don't even have a way of storing something like that. What I'm I saying? Better to fight off extinction and then we can worry about other stuff.
Touching a strength I didn't know I had, a smile came from somewhere. There could be no peace between Ralt's people and mine. Humanity had suffered way too much at our Visitor's hands. If we lived at all, just maybe there would not be war between us, but never ever peace.
I saw the truth of an old saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“That is so true,” I replied, “Knowing facts, doesn't let you understand history or even the events leading up to it. They're only a tool helping you see how it all unfolded. That is of course balanced by the axiom that the 'Winners write the history books.'”
“There is always that,” the Alien agreed, “Although your people are much more creative in that regard. Our enemies usually aren't around, so it's a useless exercise.”
“Ah!” I exclaimed, as we closed the barn doors, “That's the whole point of the saying. The losers aren't there to protest, so you can twist the facts around to put yourself in the best possible light. It also takes into account that there are always at least two viewpoints to any conflict, but only one is being presented.
He gave me a very human-like nod to continue.
“Take the Aztecs we were talking about for an example,” I grinned as we walked back to the farmhouse, “later historians and revisionists give Cortez all kinds of hell for destroying a large, advanced Native American culture. Without a doubt, the Conquistadors were greedy bastards, more interested in filling their pockets than in converting the heathens or bringing enlightenment.
“However,” I racked my memory for as much as I could recall, “the Aztecs were also very fond of human sacrifice as were other cultures in Mesoamerica. Culturally accepted or not, the Aztecs used the practice to control their empire. Noble savages they weren't, even by their own standards.
“On the other hand, we have almost nothing from their point of view,” my grin turned into a sideways smile, “Their capital Tenochtitlan was razed and Mexico City was built on its grave. All we have is the Conquistadors and the Monks who accompanied them, writings and reports. None of which can be regarded as non-interested parties.”
“Your account has only highlighted the fallacy of such slanted recordings,” Ralt shook his head, “Others can come back long after and dispute the actions of those involved. Additionally, those in Mesoamerica weren't the only one of your cultures to practice human sacrifice. Your ancient Egyptians often killed their servants so that their dead would have those to serve them and even your Romans were documented doing so.”
“Yes,” I agreed with him, “they did, but not to the excess of the Aztecs. From what I understand, even by Mesoamerican standards they were rather overenthusiastic about sending their enemies to their gods.
“And you are right about the revisionism thing, but Humans do tend to be rather short-sighted at times,” I shrugged, “Enough about us, how about you? What do you call yourselves anyway?”
“The Tai-sha'le,” Ralt replied, “but it has a rather unfortunate meaning in one of your major languages. And no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. That's why we go by Sha'le in what communications we have with you Humans.
“As for 'us' I assume you're asking if we had similar situations arise on our world,” the Sha'leian replied, “The answer is yes and no. Yes, our history is at least as turbulent as your own, but our geography was kinder. We didn't have two whole habitable continents that were completely isolated from the rest. Some areas were isolated, but we certainly didn't have any of our steel producing nations confronting a stoneage one.
“So, your people are familiar with arms races?” I asked thinking about how that pushed so much of our own development.
“You have such colorful ways of stating things,” the Alien gave another of those I thought were smiles, “but yes, we became very competitive in seeking advantages over our opponents.”
“I'm guessing in the political arena as well?” I held the door open as we went inside, “The shifting alliances and agreements must've been interesting.”
“That 'arena', as you call it, was just as competitive,” Ralt confirmed.
Trying to remember everything that was just said, I shut the door behind us. This was all good stuff. It kinda sounded as if their whole world was like Europe. The geography contributed to the restless warfare of the region – too many groups that were too evenly matched, each pushing and shoving against each other. Adding that to the bit about their own world having severe problems, suggested that when the big wars did break out, they were very nasty.
“No,” The Alien said, “we can eat your food in complete safety. One of the purposes of our probes was to bring back samples to confirm this bio-system was as compatible as advertized. Perhaps to both of our people's detriment, this world matches our own so perfectly, it is not worthy giving it a percentage.”
“I think we have strayed into uncomfortable topics again,” Dean stated after a long stressful moment, “Maybe it’s time to begin the festivities?”
“We're just about finished, anyways,” Sheila announced, “but the appetizers were prepared just for this occasion.”
Everyone took a deep breath, and just enjoyed the home cooked food. All of us being in the military now hadn't had such a feast in a long time. Me, being on the front and abused by my commanders, this was pure heaven. No one mentioned Blue Soylent, since that was information critical to our very survival. On the other hand, all I had to do was say something about the poor quality of military combat rations, and they all got the point. Even the Sha'leians nodded at the reference, understanding at once how such might keep you alive, but it sure wasn't good tasting.
As surrealistic as it might be, we human and Shaleians made small talk and compared holidays. Soon enough, Sheila and the other ladies were carrying the serving dishes to the table.
Dean as host, kept the traditional Thanksgiving prayer or since he was an atheist, speech, short.
“We are thankful for the good food and that our friends and guests are able to meet here in peace,” he announced before carving the turkey.
Nobody said nothing as I bowed my head and added a silent, but heartfelt Amen. Honestly, the biggest challenge for me was to keep from ignoring everyone and just eat. Sheila, however, was there to make sure I acted half-way civilized.
Sitting there enjoying food that had real texture, for all of their talk of the bio-sphere being nearly identical to their own, both Sha'leians used their scanners to make sure of the food. Considering my experiences with the dear General Benson, perhaps I should've 'scanned' my own rations. After all, he'd tried just about every other way of killing me. Okay, a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
I actually had a good time trying to guess what Tash and Ralt would go for and what foods they didn't like. The turkey and dressing were a yes, but the pecan pie was a bust. They didn't like the caramel. The apple pie however was another winner.
However, there were limits to how much even this bunch could eat. Honestly, I was amazed that we got through dinner without any kind of major incident other than another of Dean's 'uncomfortable topics'.
Our Guests had no problem discussing Galactic Society. From their viewpoint, it was mostly like strangers passing in the night. There was such a wide variety of races whose needs and interests were so different from each other that each pretty much just ignored the others. There was a set of rules regarding those times when contact was unavoidable, but the whole Star Trek thing of alien alliances and empires just wasn't there.
Where the problem came up was when we were talking about those races that served as middle men linking some of the more similar species together enough for trade. For an example, the damn them to hell SOB's that sold Voyager One to our very unwanted Sha'leian Visitors.
I can understand Dean's interest in
those Bastards, given we didn't know who else they might've sold that information to. Unfortunately, that conversation drifted towards ships and just how many of Tash and Ralt's relatives were up there in that ship of theirs.
This time it was Tash who announced the 'uncomfortable topic' warning, but that didn't help dispel the tension that had arisen. Everyone, Earthling and Sha'leian alike, took a break going back for more pie or a run to the bathroom.
Me, I needed some fresh air.
The sun had been shrouded again by the heavy clouds that promised more wintery stuff was on the way. The ride back into Tampa would not be pleasant, but it was only the first part of my journey. From there, it was a flight to Camp Mackall for my testing and evaluation.
The door opened behind me, as I took in a deep breath of the chill November air.
“May we talk?” Ralt asked.
“Yes,” I answered simply, gesturing him out onto the wide farmhouse porch.
We were out in the country way off the access road which meant I was reasonably certain it was safe and nobody would see us. Besides, I was curious as well. I'd been asked for specifically, as a condition for their attendance. Perhaps I was about to find out.
“You're not like them,” he gestured to those inside the house, “They're not soldiers; you are.”
“Including Tash?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ralt made a very deliberately human-like nod, “my friend is not a soldier.”
“Like you?” The question was obvious. When we parked their ship in the barn, he was the one who flew inside and did some pretty tight maneuvering to get it to fit. Of the two, the Visitor standing next to me was more likely a combatant.
Or in other words someone who had and would be trying to kill me.
“I'm a soldier,” he said, with what I thought was pride, “Our own word for it means something a little different, but the role, the duties, are the same.”
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” I quoted from the Bard's 'Henry the Fifth' Saint Crispin's Day Speech, “Those who stand and fight to protect their homes and families.”
“Again, the meaning is somewhat different,” Ralt explained, “Our society is more cooperative than yours, although we are far from the hive like aliens from your science fiction stories. We are naturally, more communistic oriented than you. While you Americans value individualism, the forces on us stressed working together much more strongly. Most other Earthling cultures put less importance on the individual than you; they still fall short of the Sha'leian ideal. That does include your countries that think of themselves as Communist. Individuals still rule at the top.”
“I can see that.” The way their 'bots and drones weapons systems covered each other made a bit more sense. It also explained how when a critical piece was removed the whole thing tended to fall apart. There was less flexibility and perhaps initiative, but it was strong as well.
The French had learned that the hard way during their assault on the Sha'leian beachhead in the Alps.
“What I'm so curious about is how can you enter battle so alone even when you appear so powerful our weapons can't stop you?” Ralt asked.
“Well,” I smiled, “I'm certainly not going to tell you how to stop me! However, I'm not going to end this 'Uncomfortable Topic'. I can step onto that battlefield because I am not alone. My comrades stand waiting for me to do my part so they can do theirs. Even if I fall, I've given them their chance at victory.”
“The Needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” the Sha'leian soldier quoted, “but that does not explain how you overcome the instinct to survive, or do you want to die? Tash claims your quantum warped form is not insane.”
“The Wrath of Kahn,” I smiled, “and no, I don't want to die. Perhaps at one time I did, but that has changed. As for being insane, many believe that just volunteering to let some mad scientist irradiate you with a malfunctioning alien engine that they really don't understand how it works is an act of lunacy!”
“On that we can agree!” Ralt shivered at very idea.
“But if you asking how I don't let my fears overcome me, it's faith.” I took a deep breath, “In that first battle, I knew that your plasma burners, while they were very painful, wouldn't injure me. There was a chance I could make it out alive and return to the one I loved. I had to believe it in my heart, or I would've been defeated before I'd even made my first step.”
“So, you lied to yourself?” our Guest asked, looking at me.
“I suppose you could call it that,” I smiled, thinking about the many definitions of faith that I'd read about, “It's more believing in something bigger than yourself. Even my quantum warrior form gave me assurance that somehow I could survive.”
“How so?” he inquired, inclining his head as if he'd never considered that before.
“I'm past fifty years old,” stating point by point helped me put some things into words, “As a guess, in that alternate world where that quantum pattern originates, whatever transformed the 'me' there into what we call Halcyon, happened in their 20's or 30's judging from her appearance. We could be all kinds of wrong, but if so, that means that 'me' has spent a quarter century or more in a world vastly more chaotic than this one. She has survived.”
I sighed. It'd taken a lot to get me to this point, but like it or not, that 'me' was a she now and had been for quite awhile. Like Sheila had told me on Halloween, that 'me' had somehow adapted to being Halcyon. There was no other way for her to have survived, not just her world, but being trapped in a body that wasn't hers.
“May I see her?” Ralt asked, “Your quantum 'warrior' form?”
I paused, thinking. There wasn't much reason to think this was some kind of trap. Any data on Prometheus would be old news to them, and even with the jamming during my battles with the Sha'leian command tanks, they had plenty of information about me.
“Sure,” I answered, “but first let me warn everyone so nobody is unduly alarmed.”
“Sheila?” I called to her opening the door, “Ralt would like to see my quantum warrior form. Would you mind giving me some moral support?”
Each and everyone in the room turned to look at me. Perhaps the Sha'leians had something about the fear of monsters right after all, but for all that humanity might be frightened of us, we were on their side.
“Sure!” She grinned, holding her coffee mug between her fingers as if for warmth, “Let me get my jacket.”
Okay, not everyone thought of us that way. I stripped off my cold weather gear leaving nothing, but my uniform Skins. It was far too hard to replace clothing these days to rip them when I changed.
Strangely, no one else invited themselves out to see me change. Not even Tash asked himself along, but they were peeking out the windows.
Shrugging, I smiled, knowing I had the only person I needed. Sheila looked up at me, her mug steaming in the cold. There was something I wanted to try, and having her with me gave me confidence I could succeed.
Knowing, I was being watched by the Enemy even if we were under a truce of sorts, I was going to attempt a trick. Older Children of Prometheus, after they'd changed enough times, could do the Captain Marvel 'Shazam' transformation thing without using the Q-Box.
It had certainly gotten easier the more times I'd 'Shazam-ed' with the Q-box 'button.' At first, it'd been hard as hell even with it. The whole Halcyon thing freaked me out so badly that transforming caused me anxiety so severe, it'd made me involuntarily switch back. It was only Sheila that had helped me past that problem.
I was trying to remember how it felt when I pressed that button. Like trying to recall how being shocked or struck, I was trying to pretend, to feel, as if it was happening right now.
While I was doing it, my efforts weren't enough. At least it wasn't until I looked into Sheila's eyes. She believed in me absolutely. That was enough. Like a spark bridging a gap, it was the leap I needed.
The light enveloped me.
Looking down at Sheila, she was lot furthe
r down, now that I'd grown nearly a foot and a half. Her eyes were as bright as the stars at night.
However, Ralt wasn't so happy. He'd gone as still as if a very hungry grizzly had just appeared.
“It's alright,” I told him, “I'm in control and am not a mindless monster.”
I glanced at the cleavage that I couldn't help but see, since I was so much taller this way and had to look down. That's if you're not talking about this pair of 'mountains' attached to me, but I didn't say that. While I had stopped having panic attacks, just staring at my own personal Scylla and Charybdis, I was not happy about them.
“You should see your face!” Doubled over laughing, Sheila had put the mug on the wide railing so she wouldn't spill her coffee.
”Really, relax,” ignoring her, I turned my attention back to Ralt. My advice was something that was easier said than done, but just maybe Thanksgiving Dinner would open the path to something meaningful. There was a chance that us poor schmucks on the front lines could come to an understanding that would make a difference in this unholy mess of a War. It could happen just like the World War One Christmas Truce where a bunch of unofficial peace-fires broke out. It didn't make a big difference in the big picture as the Generals on both sides crushed that brief shining moment of hope as soon as they could. It simply would not do to see the face staring at you from the other side of No-man's Land as anything else except as an enemy to kill.
“Her humor isn't directed at me, but at you?” Ralt asked, appearing very confused.
“I don't know how much you understand about human sexuality, but are you familiar with the term pornographic?” Sheila grinned as my golden complexion blushed coppery.
A quick exchange in Sha'leian passed between him and Tash who was peeking out around the curtains. I think Dean might've been consulted as well, but his voice was more muffled for all of my Halcyon form's superior hearing.