Drix then spread his arms wide and tilted his head back, exposing his throat. “As the living embodiment of the human race, strike!” declared Drix loudly. “Or not, as it pleases you. My life and the lives of my people are yours.”
Diet slowly unsheathed his sword, dramatically rotating it slightly, back and forth to catch the light for the cameras, so that everyone watching could not fail to notice that the blade was almost as long as Drix’ entire body. With suspense building, Diet slowly brought the point of his sword to Drix’ throat and held it there for a few seconds. Then, with a sudden flick of his wrist, Diet made a small cut in the side of Drix’ neck… not life-threatening, but deep enough that blood welled quickly, the redness showing rudely in stark contrast to Drix’ snow-white pelt.
“I spare your life, and the lives of your people,” declared Diet, his words interpreted by a human-made translator held by Harf. “Let this be the very last blood spilled in this horrible conflict between your people and mine, and let the scar remaining from this small wound serve always as a reminder of this day, when we ceased being enemies.”
Drix then declared, “I am yours… command me!”
“Let us forsake our weapons and henceforth work together in harmony, to rebuild all that was destroyed during our conflict, that we may both learn to view one another in friendship,” Diet declared loudly. Diet then suddenly snapped the blade of his sword in half across his knee, and then handed the bloodied tip to Drix.
“Keep this bloodied blade as a memorial to the mercy shown to you and your people this day, as I will keep the ruined handle, which wielded it,” Diet said. “May these symbols serve to remind all of us of the pledges made here, that no more should Raknii and humankind strive to kill one another.”
With that, Diet re-sheathed his partial sword and stepped back. Raknaa Imperial troopers then carried in two tables, high for a Raknii, but low to a human, and arranged them between the two sides. After the Raknaa withdrew, black-clad Dolrak females entered carrying large books, which contained the formal surrender documents written in both languages… four copies, one for the Raknii, and one each for the three major combatants comprising the combined fleets of humanity.
Drix and Diet signed first, followed by Hal and the three region-masters. When it became time for Noreen to sign, she handed Eryx off to Diet and N’raal handed Hans to Drix. N’raal didn’t sign, as female liberation hadn’t come to the Raknii yet… something that Noreen intended to talk to N’raal about at her first opportunity. The symbolism of the exchange of offspring was hard to miss, as each side held the other’s most precious treasure, while the process of ending war and restoring peace unfolded.
N’raal and Noreen then reclaimed their own children and N’raal then handed Eryx off to her father while Noreen passed Hans to Hal, as they retired momentarily to fetch food. When they returned, Noreen served Drix, while N’raal served Diet… each stuffing charred, bloody meat into the mouths of both leaders. The symbolism of this carefully choreographed video was rampant, and literally screamed friendship and cooperation between the races.
* * * *
February – November, 3870
The videos of the surrender ceremony were greeted throughout human space with rejoicing. The alien war was over and humanity had won. They were greeted throughout Raknii space with despair, that the war was over and humanity had won. For the most part, the hypnotic commands and exaggerated symbolism of mutual respect within the ceremony itself had the desired effect on the vast majority of both races. Calls for vengeance against their defeated enemy gradually faded throughout human space, as grim resignation and recognition of their submission to the strange, giant aliens slowly arose throughout Raknii space. What few rebellions against Drix’ submission to the humans that occurred were either put down by the remnant of Tzal’s warfleet, or by massive explosions that mysteriously leveled rebellious planet-masters’ palaces with no prior warning.
Other than the seven abandoned worlds taken by the other nations of humanity in retaliation for the unauthorized Raknii raid, which they had every intention of retaining as war reparations, agreements were made concerning the shared human/Raknii sovereignty over virgin worlds that were not yet fully colonized within Region-6 and what had once been known temporarily as Region-7. These worlds would serve as a melting pot, where Raknii and humans could get to know one another as neighbors, and would act as duty-free trade zones, where both races could bring and sell their wares to one another. This minimized friction, while introducing cooperation and promoting understanding.
Eventually, trade would open up, with ships of both races traveling freely to most of the worlds of the other. But that was all several years away, as both races took their time getting to know, and coming to trust, one another… except for the Children, who weren’t exactly sure how to go about canceling a Jihad, and so continued to shoot guns in the air and shout “Death to the Raknii infidels” and “death to...” whoever else had pissed them off that week.
The unbridled and constant expansion the Raknii had been accustomed to, had been driven by their incredible birth rate. This now had to be curtailed, at least along their shared borders with humanity and the Trakaan. Raknii family size was limited to two children each, after which they had the choice between voluntary, reversible sterilization, or usage of human-manufactured birth control drugs, which Hal had already proven safe and effective on Raknii females. Xior’s cancer drugs weren’t the only things that Hal had conjured up in his homemade chemistry lab on Raku.
OverMaster Xior accompanied Diet, Hal, Noreen and little Hans on their long trip back to Waston, with Hal maintaining Xior’s drug regimen religiously. After a short meeting with President McAllister, Xior was escorted aboard Fleet-2 for a private trip to Houstin, on Sextus, where the most advanced cancer research center in human space was located. If anyone could devise a cure, they would.
Having received prior notice of the surrender agreement, Hal had divested most of Diet’s defense industry stocks in favor of major holdings in transport fleets and manufacturers of Raknii translators into the plethora of human languages, video games, pharmaceuticals, chocolate, ice cream, cheese, beef, bacon and beer… all Raknii favorites.
* * * *
Its job completed, Admiral Jim Hunter took the Sextus 1st Fleet home to wildly cheering crowds, with the profound thanks of all humanity for their significant contribution to humanity’s victory over the aggressive aliens.
Admiral Ben Stillman transferred his flag to the attack carrier CSS Independence, joined by his wife and Chief of Staff, Captain Dorothy Fletcher-Stillman and their daughter Midnight. It was finally time for the remainder of the Confederate 2nd Fleet to join their battered capital ships and go home to Ginia for a well-deserved rest and overhaul. Word had it that the battered CSS Defiant had grounded within the Confederate Fleet Headquarters in Rikmon and awaited only the Stillman family’s arrival for her official retirement ceremony, where she would then assume her new career as a lasting memorial to all who died in the two wars the Confederacy had fought in her short life as an independent nation.
The two remaining asteroid-battleships were each joined by a new flotilla of destroyers, freshly arrived from their detachment from the Confederate 5th Fleet and assigned “show the flag” duties, visiting random Raknii planets to prove mankind’s diligence in maintaining their continued good behavior. The remainder of the combined fleets from both the Confederacy and the Alliance were divided into task force strength to assume similar duties, with crews rotating every six months.
Aging rear admirals and senior captains of suitable temperament from both the Confederate and Alliance Fleets were assigned primarily symbolic duties as military governors to all Raknii worlds to provide guidance, when needed, to the newly subjugated race. Former Confederate President, Alliance Senator and revered statesman Lincoln Collier was appointed as ambassador to the Raknii Empire by Confederate President Patrick Franklin George, who established a Confederate embassy n
ear the Imperial Palace on Raku. In time, most of the governments of humanity would also open embassies there, which would also initially serve as trade missions during the process of “normalizing” relations, which would evolve over the coming years.
Human colonists from both the Confederacy and the Alliance began settling on Golgathal, which the humans had finally stopped calling by its disrespectful name of Kitty Litter and started referring to by its new official Raknii-inspired name of Lethal Dawn, as the battle there truly had been a deadly awakening to a bright future relationship between Raknii and humankind. The Mystic Fleet Port Facility was towed from the Helix nebula to Golgathal, to serve as the first major trading port to facilitate the exchange of goods between the Raknii and humanity. Appropriate numbers of female Raknaa volunteers were sent to Golgathal as potential mates for the former assault troops there, who had turned to more peaceful pursuits under human occupation. Over time, other humans also came to settle on all of the worlds of Region-7, in an unnoticed reenactment of the settling of the American West.
* * * *
Chapter-32
Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods. -- Albert Einstein
The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Camridge
December, 3870
“Hello, Mother.”
“What in heaven's name are you doing here, after all this time?” asked Diet’s mother. “At least you finally shaved off that nasty beard you showed up here with last time, but I can’t be disturbed right now.”
“I tried to tell him that you didn’t wish to be disturbed, madam, but he pushed right past me quite rudely,” said the butler.
“I don’t doubt that he did. He’s like a force of nature… always was. Never mind, Reginald, I see that he’s determined to break my chain of thought, just as he always did as a child.”
The striking middle-aged man circled around behind the desk so he could see what was displayed on the computer screen. “Perhaps I might be of some assistance, Mother. I’m not quite the stupid little boy that you remember.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m wrestling with very important things that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.”
“Ah, still pursuing that elusive second Nodel Prize, I see. You’re still struggling with that whole space-time continuum problem that’s been frustrating you for over 40 years now… trying to solve the unsolvable, I think you called it once?”
“Nothing is unsolvable. It’s merely a matter of gathering enough facts and arranging them into the proper order to make sense of it all.”
“So which is it, Mother? Not enough facts, improper arrangement or the making sense of it all, that you’re still struggling with? I’d think, after 40 years, you’d at least know in which area your problem resided.”
“Don’t be impertinent. I simply do not have the patience to deal with your nonsense today.”
“Or any day. Nothing new about that, Mother. You never had the patience to deal with much of anything, where I was concerned, now did you?”
“I see I’m not going to get any work done until Mommy gives her little man some motherly attention, whether he deserves any or not, am I?”
“You still haven’t forgiven me for having an IQ higher than yours, have you?”
“Don’t be absurd! It isn’t one’s IQ, but what one is capable of doing with it, that’s important. You never applied the brains that I gave you to much of anything… that’s what I find unforgivable.”
“You’re never going to solve that space-time continuum problem if you insist on continuing using that same false assumption that has dead-ended you and your colleagues into a mental cul-de-sac for so many years.”
“False assumption? That shows how little you know. Any assumptions that I might make are the result of decades of observations and extensive mathematical modeling… mathematics far beyond your meager abilities, in spite of your test results.”
“Not so meager that I don’t know that you’ll never solve that problem if your continue to treat a constant as a variable — which is why you can’t seem to get the universe to fit into all of those nice little theories you’ve that made for it.”
“Treat a constant as a variable? What are you babbling about?”
“Time, Mother. Mathematically, the rate at which time passes is almost always treated as a variable in most of your equations, which is why your equations can never fully explain why people traveling at hyperlight speeds in tachyon space don’t emerge significantly younger than the rest of the universe, as your theories all predict that they should. No one spending significant amounts of time within tachyon space seems to live appreciably longer than those who do not, as the equations predict. Embarrassing, isn’t it, when the universe just doesn’t feel like cooperating with how you’ve determined that it should work.”
“Of course time is a variable. As one approaches the speed of light, time slows down. Einstein proved that thousands of years ago.”
“No, Einstein postulated that, thousands of years ago. By extension, theoretically time should actually flow backwards if traveling faster speed of light were achieved… which we have… which it doesn’t. It’s time that’s refusing to cooperate and causing all your problems, because you’re making the same false assumption that Einstein did.”
“Oh, so my brilliant son is pretentious enough to think he’s actually going to correct Einstein now. Please proceed… this I just have to hear! Just what is it that you think Albert Einstein was so wrong about, concerning time, Mr. Smart-Guy?”
“Einstein’s mistake… and yours, is the false assumption that time exists as a physical entity within our universe, which can be acted upon by various forces such as gravity and speed. In actuality, time either transcends the physical laws of this universe and all of the others, such as tachyon space, making it immune to the effects of physical forces, or it does not actually exist at all.”
“Pfft… of course time exists, you idiot. I was really hoping you’d come up with something original, or at least more amusing that that nonsense.”
“Does it? Or is it possible that time is really nothing more than a mental construct that we puny humans have invented as a means to put the aging of the universe into some sort of context — to differentiate between events and keep one moment from slamming into the ass of another, within our own minds?”
“Don’t be crude… the only ass in this conversation is you! Time exists because it can be acted upon by forces such as speed and gravity. Variations in the rate at which times passes under the effects of extreme gravity or speed can be measured.”
“Can they? Does the rate at which time passes change, or are those forces acting upon the things we’re using to measure it with, giving the appearance that the rate at which time passes is changing? Even if it weren’t, how could we possibly know?”
“That’s what we employ mathematics for — to compensate for the effects that these forces are having upon our measuring instruments… and the rate at which time progresses still varies, regardless of your ridiculous ideas.”
“Does it really? Or might there be a fly in your mathematical ointment? Math can be manipulated and twisted around to ‘prove’ almost anything you wish it to… at least mathematically. Take the Banach-Tarski paradox, for example, which indicates that mathematically it’s possible to break a mathematical ball into a number of pieces and then rearrange and reassemble those pieces into two identical copies of the original mathematical ball.”
“I’m surprised that you’ve ever even heard of it,” said Diet’s mother. “But the Banach-Tarski paradox is merely a mathematical model built on earlier work by Felix Hausdorff, who proved that mathematically it’s possible to chop up the unit interval, or the line segment from 0 to 1, into many countable pieces, slide those pieces around and then fit them back together to create an interval length of 2. That certainly doesn’t mean that anyone is ever going to be able to slice up a gold ing
ot and then reassemble it into two new ones, like the original.”
“Of course not, Mother. That’s my entire point. The Banach-Tarski paradox, or what some mathematicians often refer to as the Banach-Tarski decomposition, because it's really a proof and not actually a paradox at all... accentuates the fact that among the infinite set of points that make up a mathematical ball, the concept of volume and measure cannot be mathematically defined for all possible subsets. Quantities that can be measured in any familiar sense are not necessarily preserved when a solid sphere is broken down into subsets, and then those subsets are reassembled in a different way using translations and rotations. These immeasurable subsets are extremely complex, lacking reasonable boundaries and volume in the ordinary sense, and thus are not attainable in the real world of matter and energy.”
“Of course they aren’t, that’s what I just said… but I must admit, you obviously have been reading up on your math, which is rather odd, as you never liked math as a child.”
“I always did want to impress my Mommy. It never happened, but I always wanted your approval anyway, for some strange reason. Silly me.”
“That’s it, blame me for your failings. Just get to your point!”
“The Banach-Tarski paradox doesn't provide us with a prescription for how to produce the subsets. It merely proves their existence, and the fact that there must be at least five of them to produce a second copy of the original mathematical ball. The very fact that the Banach-Tarski paradox depends on usage of the axiom of choice, or the interchangeable usage of any number of identical subsets, and yet remain so strongly counterintuitive… has been used by some mathematicians to suggest that use of the axiom of choice must be incorrect. But the benefits of adopting the axiom of choice are so great that such an obvious black sheep of the mathematical family, such as the paradox, is generally tolerated.”
“Yes, yes… I know that, but again, what is your point?”
Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 3) Page 36