Tales of Reign

by M E Wise

  

  The Castor flashed into Sol space just outside of Luna’s spaceport traffic. The lights of ascending and descending vessels panicked and made course corrections. The Earth’s moon was dotted with like colored structure, the surprisingly simple uniformity of color didn’t take away from the spectacle of it. “Corporate money goes a long way!” Ben chimed in while working his panel for incoming radar and threatening movement. “Now that’s an entrance.” I joked as my crew waited for the next erratic move.

  “I was stationed here with the OG!” Brigs announced over open COM. “Those were the good ole days!”

  “Status of the rescued.” I asked Sal’Din monitoring them with modified drones. “Secure.”

  This short response was something I found I missed more and more. The Mor’h had simplified so much of their lives to living without exhausted efforts to communicate or live. So much of my time with human beings wore on me greatly. I believe this is why the Halfers appealed to me most. Not because we shared similar origins but because they knew not to waste time. Time and life were precious to them. Humankind wrestled themselves ever so slowly to the grave. Living was second to preserving their accomplishments.

  “We have a secure hail from the surface Reign.” Ben found a direct code being cycled in the satellite driven clutter unseen in space. I nodded and the feed was placed on screen. “You’re not alone?” The Premiere voiced oddly. Ben waved goofily at her. “It’s the President!” He whispered to Faith working his eyebrows. Faith grinned sheepishly and returned to her panel to monitor systems. “Madame Premiere we can release the rescued at any moment.” I waited as she shuffled indignantly. “You don’t waste time do you Reign!” She had multiple people handing her forms and briefing her.

  “Boredom is a luxury I have come to miss greatly.” I was being completely honest. “Are you ready?”

  “You like to taunt people don’t you.” The Premiere rattled what could be taken as a joke or insult under the strain of her many shifting guises.

  “If you’re busy we can just leave them here and go on about our lives. Wouldn’t you like to go on about other things?” I mocked the sober tediousness of their political life. She froze and took a breath. The monitor emptied of many of the staffers scurrying to her aid. “There was a time in your history when leaders made decisions for the good of all because they were trusted and not controlled.” I ended my verbal misgivings.

  “Are we living in the past Reign?” She sat poised and annoyed. “Is that what you are upset with us for? Is it the past we are living under? Or a past we could have corrected, because I don’t have time for philosophical or reflective diatribes. Or resentful psychological wordplay with misplaced and angry children from Earth-or the stars.” Her words were hurtful and poignant.

  “A vessel is approaching our proximity. One mile aft.” Ben announced.

  “Identify the vessel.” I expressed little concern.

  “That would be a Red Cross response ship. Unescorted.” The Premiere chimed in. She reclined.

  “Make link with their vessel.” I didn’t trust the situation so readily. Ben worked the panel for connections.

  “We exchanged Pri without incident Reign. Why the sudden lack of trust?” The Premiere wasn’t fishing but was readily genuine.

  I ignored her for the more pressing matter of a ship approaching us unannounced. “Private portal.” Ben referenced the panel screens at each station, in this case my own. “Rapid Response Vessel Asclepius requesting further instruction. Chief Medical Officer speaking: Please respond.” The officer was dressed accordingly in the white and red attire generally associated with the Red Cross. “Patch Brigs into their COM system and make ready for transfer.” I gave the operative order to Ben and he made it happen. “Madame Premiere we will make our leave. I won’t hold my breath for our next communication.”

  “There is the issue of the second half of the assault fleet unresolved, Reign.” She touted her need.

  “Your needs are no longer mine. Your enemies are no longer my problem. Your politics have and never will be my domain.” She didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “Now don’t be hasty Reign! It is not that easy.” She charged the monitor with some expediency now. “It is that easy!” I was no longer playing coy. “You have neglected citizens of your own countries to become refugees in Mor’h space and you linger like a foul odor over the worry of your enemies!” I wasn’t considering holding back anything from now on. “Don’t bother to explain your position either. Some carefully worded brokerage of trade on your treatise here with Luna and UHP doesn’t concern me at all. The Mor’h wanted to help stabilize the Sol system out of guilt! But I would further that as pity to a cautionary tale!”

  “Yes humankind has a way to go…” she tried to reconcile but I didn’t care for any more soliloquy.

  “The Mor’h aren’t a captive audience! We don’t hang on your decision. We offered opportunity and guidance but you sit there redundant and overused. I have read your histories of manifest destiny and privileged conquest. All of them were self-fulfilling prophecies of each level of war you waged on each other. The Mor’h saw a beneficial future not in your ways but in your biology!” The moment for pleasantry had ended. “We stand to gain nothing from a joint venture with the human race as a culture. And would further ignore any entanglement all together if it weren’t for the galaxy being too small!”

  The Premiere sat vacant. She wasn’t prepared to lose all of our interest in the Sol system. “I could easily share the Halfer gene therapy via your own internet and it would go viral.” I laughed at the irony in that statement. “I don’t need you or your arbitrary regulations that make every effort pointless. That turns every victory into a chance for photographs and autographs!” Her aids again scrambled in and out of frame. The Premiere had resigned herself to no commitment, way before this moment. The pride of a system was being wounded and I made no care to avoid it.

  “Your enemies are outside the gate and they can rot there. Just like you and your kind left the Halfers to the edge of the galaxy in Green Acres-only to declare them traitors and enemies and fed them death! Why Madame Premiere? Because you have no control of anything.” I had made my point but I wasn’t finished. She turned sideways in her chair and was no longer looking directly at me. I know from many encounters with her across these empty airwaves she would rather end this conversation and drift away. Only I could, we could; the Mor’h could leave and let humankind fade into obscurity never coming close to rival them in any way.

  “You make enemies of each other. That is your way.” I felt finished. “Status?”

  Ben sat completely silent and stunned. Faith reached over and bumped him. “One second.” Ben knew I could as easily do this myself but I was doing this to show cooperation between our diverse crew. “The rescued have been fully transferred.” He was shaking. “Release the container when the Red Cross vessel is clear.” Ben sat quiet and moved command boxes around on the holo display. “Home?” Ben asked out of the stalled exchange. I looked to him to expand on his request.

  “I called Green Acres home.” Ben admitted this history out loud. “Before that, British Columbia and before that San Diego. No matter where that was, the same problems followed. People grinded out their lives with no end in sight. Some had it better, some worse. Some looked the same, some changed themselves to be the same. It didn’t matter anywhere you went as long as there were people to argue the value of something they would. Even if that value was each other.” Ben was clearly deep in the moment. “I want to go home where I am worth something.”

  The room the Premiere was in jostled and we on the Castor noticed. We all felt this without any need of sharing. Ben began the priming sequence for the jumps home. “You have one day to get the second half of your fleet from beyond the belt. I will release a section of the array for them to pass. Anyone beyond that space after will be considered in open space; survival is on them.” Premiere Samantha Martin did not resp
ond, she continued to look on and as I like to believe out of a nearby observation portal and into space.

  

  “You are one harsh negotiator babe!” Dae whispered from my chest where her head lay. The scent of her hair was lulling me to sleep. Feeling her against my skin in the night air was an incredible concoction for my ailments. The world is right here. Mor’h had not changed a single bit in my absence and that was good. My crew had been away for nearly two months and we were now cradled together, some of us literally and others among the people who mattered most.

  “I suppose the Premiere goes home to some semblance of family.” I obtusely played the fool.

  Dae laughed at my lapse of character. “I thought politicians ate their children? And the children of other’s?” Dae enjoyed dumping her every issue on absent authorities. Religiously she often joked. “I don’t need to wonder very hard to see what she goes through.” Dae toyed with the balanced perspective.

  “Am I going to get some sympathy now?” I teased and she smacked my chest.

  “I mean, from a very personal perspective; I know all sides of that object.” She sat up and wrapped the sheet around her modestly. Something new in our aging relationship. “As a woman in charge here, with the few people we try to keep from suffering; help feel needed and secure, I can honestly say it wears on you. Then I see your role taking from you everything you are-all too willing to give it.” She bordered woe and repressed anger here. “Someone like that is always stretching what’s humanly possible.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that comment under the circumstances. The red light of the new alerting COM system was blinking. I felt like ignoring it. Dae noticed my preoccupation and looked about until she found it. “Really!” She sighed heavily and laid down beside me, face first in the pillow. I sat up and stretched while donning my robe and moving toward the monitor hanging over a simple table. I waved my hand in front of the screen to recognize my link signature. There was no video only momentary static.

  “Sol transmission waiting in queue.” It was Sal’Din’s perspective voice. Dae sat up quickly.

  “Feed it through.” The link transmission was being cycled for varied improvements in quality. It was the Premiere accompanied by the American President and European Prime Minister. “Reign! I’m not even dressed!” Dae rushed from our bed and into the washing chambers. I didn’t speak or bother to improve my dress or presence. This was a simple violation of privacy but unfortunately a necessary one. “Pardon our intrusion.” The Premiere politely addressed the moment at hand. “We currently have no way to measure time at your location…” the Premiere closed and opened her hands giving up on the correct measurement or description she was aiming at. “Mor’h is it?” The other two in her company seemed to divvy up the responsible answer and agreed.

  I sat cold and waiting. “Reign, there are some matters.” The Premiere then handed off the briefing to the European Prime Minister. “Good evening sir. I am not aware of any pertinent title or any inclination of title in your preferred redress so I will assume Sir is not an insult.” I stared blankly waiting for more. “I continue. Madame Premiere has given my office license and the esteemed World Coalition has bestowed on to said office the role of consulate overseer of the appointment of Mor’h to our shared existence.”

  The group sat as still as a portrait. I could hear Dae creeping about behind me but unseen by the committee onscreen. “We understand that there are great concerns on both parts on the preservation of state sovereignty and state secrets. I can fully guarantee Mor’h will forever remain autonomous if the Mor’h should still want a presence in the Sol system. We would like to invite you to a summit at your convenience to further discuss these measures that I can assure you are very open to consideration. The Premiere’s own country Australia has graciously offered to host.” The Minister was a fine speaker but didn’t have the poker face of the Premiere.

  “When?” I asked with little inflection. They were puzzled but prepared. “The device we are using has the information on it, if you can…” he paused and answered his own question, “when you retrieve the information available on security, availability and the formalities needed to accommodate you; return them to us and we will make everything happen.” He was very pleased with himself.

  “I accept. You will have my response very soon.” They were surprised by my quick reply.

  “Looking forward to negotiating the treaty with you Reign.” The Premiere said cautiously.

  “I wasn’t aware we were at war.” This caused a jump in the group. “I’m joking.” They held their breath.

  The link closed and Dae came flying out from behind me to tackle me on the floor. “You are absolutely terrible! You mentioned war and they shit their pants.” Dae chuckled. “You will need to contact S’lei; I know, I know.” She rolled off and away from me.

  

  The Castor had a full crew for this endeavor. Hermes had a nice new frame much updated from the last and was carrying the collective with even more hubris. Dae and I were honored guests and had already made ground. The Admiralty House was very scenic on the approach. Human cities were entirely overwhelming. Dae was loving the special treatment though. Dr. Drakos also received her ride home and was offered the esteemed credit of presenting the Halfer Gene Therapy findings to the Attorney General of Medicine of the World Coalition eliminating a long and costly public health scare. The Mor’h had conditions of course on state secrets involving the Cresche. Mostly to do with their numbers and not their methods. Little of Mor’h technology would be shared if at all.

  The treaty was simple: Mor’h would open the Milky Way galaxy to Sol with deep respect for exploration and not exploitation. The array would remain intact as a security measure and a way for communicating across vast distance in space. A Mor’h consulate was to be established just outside of the Kuiper belt for assistance and guidance for vessels out in such deep space. Humankind would monitor and maintain their own security forces in space as they always had with the exception of territory beyond Kuiper.

  Mor’h wanted nothing more than a voice in the system and an expression of their humility and admission to mistakes they had made in the overreach of their own exploration. There were some demonstrations across the globe against welcoming the alien menace to their sovereign soil. But this is the way of things in the Sol system. This is the way of things in most ways of life. Now on the eve of our two worlds meeting officially for the first time we awaited the most important guest of honor.

  The Ku’Gel could be seen from the ground even in orbit. The reception symphony clumsily lost rhythm and halted their performance midway as the formal bell craft lowered shimmering in the midday sky. “We look like a fairytale!” Dae whispered loudly as we stood next to a gathering of the most powerful people on Earth. I smiled and lent my hand to help shield Dae’s eyes from the Australian sun. She was immensely beautiful today and something seemed different but I couldn’t narrow it down.

  “I’m more nervous now than I was when we landed on Mor’h!” Dae blurted to the Premiere. “I’m talking to the Premiere!” She laughed loudly. “You and me both!” Premiere Martin returned a warm smile. The Premiere was a much better host in person than in talks on monitors being monitored by more monitors. The bell craft landed gently like a leaf on a still pond. “You can hear a pin drop.” Dae muttered while everyone had now learned to ignore her excited blurbs.

  The doors of the vessel slid open and two Lo’Nar first stepped forward. I had briefed the Premiere and staff on many of the Mor’h titles they could encounter but the effect of the crash course meeting with reality is entirely spontaneous. For now, the Premiere was starry eyed and completely awestruck.

  The most soothing smell of blossoms in spring filled the air. People close enough to the platform touched their faces with the waft. One or two let loose with an embarrassing and fated sneeze as Dae shook her head at me relieved she wasn’t the only one. I let my link slip into the group and
found my fellow people in the sharing, as usual they were calm and more importantly in control or their telling. This moment was one of healing as much as it was of joining. S’lei presented herself majestically as she made her exit of the craft. The sun lit her variegations and she was aglow with her usual charisma.

  “Tall is an understatement.” The Premier said without realizing it. “She’s an elegant giant.”

  S’lei approached in graceful sways and the Premiere nearly tripped to meet her. “I am honored.” Samantha Martin was not only the head of the World Coalition but the first woman on Earth to welcome a true alien to their world. “Please let me welcome you to our world.” S’lei took her hand and the Premiere was astonished. S’lei looked to me and said. “To our worlds-may the future of our seasons sow us well.”

  The moment lasted for a brief eternity. We signed the Mortalien Treatise on the 1st of September in the year 2110. The season was the beginning of the Australian spring. The time was right. We returned home soon after. The array was alive with links to media and people around the Sol system celebrating, debating and excepting the event that would change everything forward. Humankind had joined the galactic community.