The Alpha Choice

by M. D. Hall

  ‘I understand your fears,’ one of his escorts replied, ‘but once objects have appeared, they will only go if you specifically want them to and,’ the man allowed himself an ironic smile, ‘if it is safe. It would not do for a chair to disappear while you are sitting on it!’

  ‘We have a similar, technology, we call it Fluid, but we aren’t able to exercise mind control over it,’ replied Agrion. The two escorts looked at each other before the talkative one said: ‘Please imagine a cup of water?’

  ‘Don't you mean a cup of Balg?’ came the straight faced reply.

  Immediately, a cup appeared in his hand, filled with clear liquid. ‘You don't expect me to drink it?’

  ‘Why not? It is only water.’

  Knowing that Fluid created water only had the appearance of water, and an exceedingly bitter taste - once consumed it broke down into its component parts and was expelled as vapour from the mouth, or as excretion through the pores - Agrion did not relish this part. Every Te’an child had tried it, but very few tried it more than once. The two Tellans waited, patiently. He lifted the cup to his mouth, steeling himself against the acrid flush that never came. Instead, cool pure water coursed down his throat. He finished the drink and imagined the cup was no more. Once again with empty hands, he exclaimed, as much to himself as to his uninvited companions: ‘Your technology doesn't just create simulacrums!’

  ‘No,’ was the simple reply.

  His own people were able to synthesise a great deal more complex structures than water but they were just that, synthetic. Food and water could be replicated, but only within the confines of a unit. He had no idea how this could be done, unless, he thought, the entire dome is an enormous replicating unit. The theory was laid before the Tellans. ‘I’m right aren’t I?’

  They both shook their heads, before telling him he could do the same thing, anywhere on the planet.

  ‘Then how is it achieved?’

  ‘We can explain it to you, but you would not understand.’

  Agrion searched their faces for any hint of sarcasm or irony, there was none. He suspected there would be a similar response if he asked them about the spacial inconsistencies, within the dome and a few minutes later, he was proven right. However, he did find them more than happy to explain the day to day use of the habitat, a practical but less interesting concession. While his people could mentally interact with their computers and teleports, the functioning of the dome convinced him the Tellans had advanced far beyond what he now knew to be rudimentary mind control. He quickly suspected they considered the marvels he was about to enjoy, restrictions, as their explanations seemed stilted and learned, not flowing naturally as though from practised use.

  He only had to imagine a thing, and it appeared before him, whether food, clothes or other personal items he was familiar with. Of course, there were limits. When on his own, he imagined a flyer, but it did not materialise. Whatever conjured these items obviously placed limits on the absurd. Needless to say, he unsuccessfully pictured Liron!

  Over the next few days he had no shortage of visitors, especially when he strayed outside his dome. Each visit presented a different pair: sometimes two men, sometimes two women, and other times, one of each; never a single Tellan. They always withheld their names and avoided answering questions straying beyond the mundane. They introduced him to all Tellus had to offer, seeming to withhold nothing. He refrained from seeking details of what his host had told him, in no small part because he had no desire to learn more.

  His journeys by flyer - not dissimilar to Te’an anti-grav ships, save for the absence of any visible drive, and their incredible speed - were memorable for three reasons. First, he saw no other craft yet, on several occasions, he would come across a Tellan, thousands of kilometres from where he had seen him or her only minutes before. Teleportation was the obvious answer, except there appeared to be a total absence of anything resembling a teleport station, anywhere. When he sought an explanation, he received the polite, but vague, answer: there were several methods of transport on Tellus. After several attempts to elicit further details were met with an infuriating change of subject, he gave up.

  Second, there were no centres of population. While the domes themselves were symmetrical, there was nothing ordered about how they were placed or distributed, which seemed completely random. As for the domes themselves, there were no monitors, or machines of any kind, unlike Te’an homes. He had no idea how his thoughts became tangible, and until he became reacquainted with his original host, he remained in ignorance.

  Finally, despite his wide ranging travels across Tellus, he found no sign of children. His first thought was, they’re being kept from me, perhaps they’re frightened I’ll contaminate them, but, as time passed he became convinced the reason he saw no children, was because there were none to be seen. He then began to look more closely at his hosts. They all, including the reception committee of the first day, appeared to be aged in their early thirties. But that was not what concerned him. On Te’ath, the ability to halt visible signs of ageing, beyond a chosen age, had been around for hundreds of years. People still died when their bodies eventually gave out, but every age, up to the chosen age, bedecked all Te’an planets. On Tellus, it seemed it was not only the children who were missing. An impossible idea began to form in his mind, impossible and uncomfortable.

  By now, all thoughts of escape had departed. He had not forgotten his duty, or the fact he was in enemy territory, but his experiences attached credence to everything his host had said, which made escape and the reasons for escape, meaningless.

  He lost track of time. His stay could have lasted weeks or months, before he was invited back to the dome, only this time he returned unaccompanied. Approaching the eighteen, he noticed three seats arrayed in a triangle before the semi circle, two of them occupied. Sitting in one of the three seats, and facing him, was his original host. The occupant of the other seat was dressed no differently to the rest of the Tellans but the posture and build were unmistakable. As he took the seat, obviously meant for him, he looked across to the newcomer, who only said, ‘Agrion.’ His reply, despite all he wanted to say, was simply, ‘Liron.’ This was not the time to catch up, there was a reason he had been brought here and he knew what it was, he knew but wished he did not.

  It was the turn of their host to speak. ‘That is most professional. I am sure there is much the two of you would like to say to each other, and you are right, this is neither the time nor the place, perhaps later?

  ‘I am Xe,’ he volunteered, ‘and you both know why you are here, but before we move on to that, I am happy to answer the multitude of questions you have. They will put into context the remainder of my story, and help you to fully appreciate the danger facing us all, and why the two of you are so important.’

  Xe dutifully answered every question put to him, and only when they could think of nothing more to ask, did he reveal the reason they were there and the terror confronting, not only the Tellans, but every race within this and every other galaxy. They sat, rapt and afraid as the final part of the story unfolded. He told them, they were free to return to Te'ath, but it would be easier if they made their home on Tellus. Only a single condition was imposed upon their stay. They would agree, at some time in the future, to take their place in the tapestry woven through countless years, and evolving inexorably towards a time, not far away, when everything they had been told would draw together in readiness for a final confrontation.

  Liron’s answer would have been unimaginable just weeks before, ‘I think I can speak for Agrion as well as myself. We agree to play our part.’

  For the first time, Xe looked surprised and turning to Agrion, asked. ‘Is this correct?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ came the immediate response. ‘You obviously don’t know as much about me as you think.’

  ‘Apparently not, we did think you would be less…open-minded.’

  ‘You’re right, I am, but I’m not stupid and Liron knows that.’


  ‘Very well,’ Xe answered, ‘we are agreed. Our home is your home.’

  With the passage of time, the tumult of life beyond their idyll had been relegated to the furthermost parts of memory. That was until the time when the Te’an fleet was scattered six thousand parsecs from Te’ath - they knew nothing of the battle for Telluria - when they were asked to fulfil their twenty-one year old promise.

  Agrion returned to the present. The revelations of Xe, all these years later still caused him to shudder. In the last twelve years, this would be his third visit, and Liron’s second.

  Hopefully, it would be their last.

  ∞

  At the precise moment Endeavour exited the Weft, somewhere in the galaxy Markarian 501, two young women and a very old man were in a glade split by a brook. The shorter of the two women sat on a grassy bank, looking down at small, brightly coloured fish swimming in crystal clear water. She listened absently to the tinkling of the water as it ran over some of the larger, multi coloured rocks, and around her bare feet.

  Her taller companion was watching two furry animals, vaguely resembling chipmunks except, they kept changing colour from green to red, then to orange and back to green as they tried to merge with the fauna they were scampering through.

  The old man was dozing in a hammock.

  The taller woman looked up from the furry traffic lights, and over to her companion who had lost interest in the fish. Both of them gazed at the old man, whose eyes had opened and who now carefully rose from the hammock, and stretched.

  The smaller woman removed her feet from the water and, despite it being wholly unnecessary, pulled on a pair of red canvas shoes, before meticulously tying the laces. She then stood, pausing only to brush pieces of grass from her dungarees, and nodded to the others. Returning their aquatic and furry visitors to their respective home worlds, the atmosphere then became an inhospitable soup, composed largely of carbon dioxide and nitrogen, while the temperature resumed its ambient four hundred and fifty degrees Celsius, and incessant lightening became the only thing visible through sulphuric acid clouds.

  They considered their surroundings, for just a moment, before all three transformed into softly glowing balls of electric blue light, each no larger than a bowling ball, floating motionless three metres above the ground where they once stood.

  While retaining their individuality, their thoughts merged. One of the beings pondered over what had just happened four hundred million light years away in the Milky Way, and the three of them considered all of the possible consequences in less than the time it would take a human to blink.

  The being who had briefly been the smaller woman, ‘spoke’ to her companions. ‘It is time.’

  Ω Δ ∞ α

  Acknowledgements

  I found writing The Alpha Choice to be at the same time both a wonderful, and a solitary experience. Even when typing away in a café with headphones on, no one knows what you’re doing. Throughout this time, the characters, scenes and plot remained only in my head and on the screen. It was only when other people read the book did the characters step off the page, imbued with life. To hear others speak of the characters by name, discuss what they did and what they might do in the next two volumes, is incredibly fulfilling.

  Despite the writing being solitary, I have been extremely fortunate to have the support and advice of a number of people.

  I will be eternally grateful to my daughter who read the first draft and got me to rethink my entire approach to the book, and my wife, for her forbearance during the seven years it has taken to write down the adventures and travails of Gorn, Jon, Tala et al - for those of you who have enjoyed this first volume, don’t panic. The second and third are already fully planned, with the second to appear within a year, and the third within the year after that - and for being the first to give me invaluable feedback on the final draft, the thoughts of Brian, Tom, Alison, Kate and Alex were all valuable. Craig, despite your busy schedule, thanks for your support.

  I have not forgotten Alf and Margaret. Thank you for your encouragement week in, week out.

  Many thanks to all at Imperial Teas of Lincoln for their expert guidance on tea, even if Hugo’s morning cuppa didn’t really cut it!

  Finally, despite the input of others, any mistakes or errors, are mine alone.