Origins:
A Greater Good
By Mark Henrikson
Key Move Publications, LLC
Copyright Mark Henrikson, 2014
St. Louis Missouri
DON’T MISS THESE OTHER
EXCITING TITLES IN THE
ORIGINS SERIES
Book 1: Origins
Book 2: Centurion’s Rise
Book 3: Reformation
Book 4: The Reich
Book 5: A Greater Good
Prologue: Wrong Us Shall We Not Revenge
It had been nearly five thousand years since Hastelloy last stood inside the Hall of Justice on Novus. He remembered an overwhelming sense of awe while viewing the building’s grandeur back then. The size, its handcrafted stone walls, the rich hardwood floors and furniture all melded together to demand respect of past traditions. As Hastelloy stood there alone inside a windowless interior room, he realized the years had done much to dull that awestruck feeling.
The stone and mortar walls now stood covered with a seamless off-white plastic polymer resin. The floor featured the same material in an alternating black and white checkered pattern. Even the table and two chairs situated in the center of the small room were composed of the solid plastic material in a light gray hue.
This was the building material of choice these days due to its ease of use and versatility. The surface color could be changed with a simple touch of a button to suit individual tastes. Any damage to the surface from scratching, chipping, or even fire was easily remolded and repaired. It was clean and efficient, but sterile and devoid of any character or history.
As Hastelloy took in his surroundings, he realized that the feature he now found least impressive of all was the ceiling, which hovered just ten feet overhead. All those years ago, it seemed so high that it may as well have been nestled among the stars: unreachable. Today, just to prove the point to himself, Hastelloy crouched his six-foot three frame down, leaped into the air, and managed to scrape the ceiling with two fingers on his left hand.
A soft, patronizing clap accompanied his landing from an individual standing behind him. Hastelloy turned on his heels to find a three foot tall being with pale skin and an oversized head standing in the room’s lone doorway.
“That body of yours may not be much to look at, but it certainly grants you impressive athleticism,” the newcomer said.
“So glad you approve, Chancellor,” Hastelloy responded in a flat tone that barely managed to temper the malice he held for the man.
“I don’t,” came a sharp rebuke. The two held their contemptuous stares until the Chancellor finally rotated his hairless white head to the side and issued an order to a set of guards stationed outside the door. “Restrain the prisoner so we may speak in private.”
The Chancellor’s rounded off, triangular-shaped face turned to face Hastelloy once more and watched with his large, midnight black eyes as two guards moved into the room to carry out his order. Even with a third guard leveling a wave blaster at Hastelloy from the doorway, the two approaching Hastelloy looked on the verge of panic as they stepped closer to a being who stood more than twice their height and girth.
Hastelloy allowed the guards to guide him into the nearest chair without offering any resistance. Once situated, the guards placed his hands into a set of restraints that grew out of the tabletop as the plastic surface reformed itself around his wrists.
Hastelloy focused on his restraints for a moment, then looked up at the Chancellor again, “Isn’t visiting prisoners before trial a little below your pay grade? The undisputed leader of the known galaxy can certainly make better use of his time. You should be ushering the Republic through some noble effort to expand its sphere of influence, or drive fear into the hearts of her enemies?”
“That will be all, thank you,” the Chancellor said to the guards who departed the room and closed the door behind them. He let a smug smirk of superiority overtake his thin lips as he looked at Hastelloy once more. “In case you haven’t heard, I brought about an end to the Alpha war four thousand years ago. The only enemy left for me to destroy is you, the man who issued an illegal order that sent my son’s ship off to be destroyed without a Nexus device nearby.”
“I see my demotion from admiral to captain, the accompanying humiliation, and the passage of time has done nothing to diminish your anger. You view me as the sole reason for your son’s death, which is fine by me, but know this: it was war. I made a command decision that served a greater good for our people. I make no apologies for performing my duty,” Hastelloy concluded.
“It wasn’t only you. There were two factors involved in my son’s death. First, there was the Alpha who provoked the war, and there was, of course, you. I put an end to the Alpha long ago, and now I finally have the chance to put an end to you as well.”
“I don’t mind admitting to you,” the Chancellor went on with a hint of levity in his voice, “when I first heard about that message of yours originating from some unknown, backwater rim system, I wept. I wept for joy that so many Novi soldiers were still alive, but I also lamented the fact that I might never have the chance to finish you off. How could I possibly assail the hero who returned twenty million life forces from the Lost Fleet to our people? You were destined to be sacrosanct for all eternity; idolized by billions, until suddenly you weren’t. You must have lost your mind living on that backward planet. That is the only way to explain your behavior these last few weeks, and now I revel in it.”
Hastelloy’s eyes widened with the clarity of thought he reached in that moment. “So the attack you ordered on Earth wasn’t just about neutralizing a culturally contaminated civilization in an ‘oh so noble’ effort to avoid another disaster like first contact with the Alpha. It was about me. You knew I would act against the Republic to defend Earth and give you an opening to come after me.”
The Chancellor’s omnipresent smirk grew all the brighter with Hastelloy’s acknowledgement of his scheme; the man took great pride in its genius. “I spent weeks researching these humans of which you are so fond. Considering you were involved in nearly every aspect of their formative years, their history is your history.”
“Learning the ways of your enemy I suppose,” Hastelloy mocked. “Tell me then, based on all your careful study of the humans and their ways, did you discover a weakness of mine?”
“You’re here facing trial aren’t you?” the Chancellor replied with great cheer. “Now that you mention it, I did come across one particular turn of phrase by a human playwright that I find particularly relevant at the moment. To paraphrase: ‘Tickle us do we not laugh, prick us do we not bleed, wrong us shall we not revenge’.”
“The Merchant of Venice, Act three, scene one; more or less,” Hastelloy acknowledged. “Ironic that you’d use the words I wrote as William Shakespeare five hundred years ago against me now.”
The Chancellor stood silent for a moment shaking his head in disbelief, and eventually let out a soft chuckle. “I might have guessed. I’m not one to compliment often, but you definitely missed your calling by choosing the life of a military man rather than an artist. Such a pity for all concerned, especially my son.”
“It was a fun respite after thousands of years spent defending Earth and the Nexus from the Alpha, but nothing I’d do again,” Hastelloy responded. “There are far too many critics who render judgment as if they could do any better themselves for my taste.”
“Defending Earth,” the Chancellor repeated with a huff of disgust. “There’s not a drop of Novi blood left in those veins of yours now is there? Look at you,” the Chancellor said while gesturing toward Hastelloy’s large frame, “you’re one of them, a human through and through. You’re now an alien to us all and
nothing more.”
“A fact the Republic’s advocate will no doubt touch upon during my trial. Little wonder I wasn’t granted the right to return to a Novi body like the rest of my crew when we reached Novus; makes for a better show.”
The Chancellor was about to respond, but had his words cut off by a gentle knock at the door followed by a guard poking his large head into the room. “The magistrate is ready.”
“Let the show begin,” Hastelloy sighed as the guards removed his hands from the table restraints.
Chapter 1: Bring in the Accused
Hastelloy was never prone to feelings of self-consciousness, but the sensation was unavoidable from the moment he stepped foot into the corridors within the Hall of Justice. The eyes of every individual he passed ogled him as though he were some fairy tale creature on display. The trio of armed escorts did their part to draw attention, but Hastelloy’s physical form truly stole the show.
He towered three feet above anybody else and stood twice as broad. What’s more, even with his hair trimmed short and face clean-shaven, the fact remained that he was the only sentient being on the planet with any body hair. The finishing touch to his exotic look was his tan colored skin versus the white flesh of the Novi. It was safe to say that he stood out in a crowd.
Up ahead, Hastelloy heard a low murmur of voices coming from around the bend. He paused to take a deep breath and mentally braced himself for what was to come. When he finally rounded the corner, he was thankful to have already excised his feelings of insecurity before running headfirst into a media frenzy.
“There he is,” somebody shouted, causing fifty cameras mounted on the sides of heads to swing in unison in his direction. An onrush of reporters soon followed carrying a hodgepodge of recording devices, all shouldering and shoving their way closer to the target of their curiosity.
“Are the Alpha staging another rebellion?” one asked.
A reasonable question.
“Is it true you have to shave your face twice a day?” another shouted.
Really?
“Why did you betray us?” a third demanded.
That all depends on one’s point of view.
Hastelloy held his tongue, affixed his eyes on the courtroom door, and took even strides toward his destination without yielding a hint of emotion. The sea of Novi blocking his path parted ever so slightly to let him by, more from fear of the hairy, tan giant trampling them rather than respect for his personal space.
“Who are you wearing?” came one final and profound question from a fashion publication reporter, at last evoking a brief smile from Hastelloy. This was the trial of the millennia and every aspect of the proceedings would be exploited to the fullest for its informative, entertainment, and propaganda value.
He reached the courtroom doors and found them barred by a pair of military police wearing charcoal gray fleet uniforms. “They’re not ready for you yet.”
“Sir,” Hastelloy snapped and pointed to the rank insignia of captain emblazoned on his collar. The uniform may have fit like a cumbersome spacesuit since the tailor was not accustomed to making apparel for a human body, but it did the job. “I’m still an officer of the fleet and I will be addressed and respected as such, Ensign.”
The junior officer seemed to debate his options for a moment and ultimately arrived at the same conclusion any self-preserving individual would reach when facing an angry opponent twice his size. “It will be a moment before they are ready for you, sir.”
“Very well,” Hastelloy replied with some measure of satisfaction. He then contented himself with staring straight ahead at the flawless white doors in front of him, doing his best to ignore the circus of cameras and reporters at his back.
Finally, a piccolo voice shouted from the other side of the doors, “Bring in the accused.” In response, the doors opened inward and the guards stepped aside as Hastelloy took even strides into the courtroom.
He emerged from a short tunnel to stand at the focal point of a half-moon shaped chamber with stadium seating extending three stories up. Those seats contained several thousand Novi along with media camera operators standing around the room’s perimeter.
The crowd erupted in an uproar of shouts and jeers the instant Hastelloy came into full view on the main floor. ‘Traitor, murderer, and Alpha lapdog were the predominant phrases of the day. Chaos reigned over the chamber for several moments until a thunderous clap laced with the crackle of electricity pierced the din.
Hastelloy snapped his head away from the crowd to see a fat and wrinkled Novi seated in the center of the main level. In front of the magistrate, a rectangular table extended toward the crowd with an empty chair at the other end. The ancient Novi held a dark ball, twice the size of his fist in his right hand, which he slammed down on the table to elicit a second thunderclap that rendered the chamber silent.
Amid the hush, Hastelloy found himself guided to the magistrate’s left and was instructed to stand beside a chair facing the audience. On the adjudicator’s right resided a second empty chair facing the crowd that would soon be occupied by an audience member.
The magistrate rose from his chair of prominence to ask, “Why has this man been brought before this People’s Court?”
Everyone in the cavernous chamber knew the charges, it had been the talk of the Republic news outlets for weeks now, yet there were traditions to uphold. A court clerk stepped out from the tunnel and declared with a microphone enhanced voice, “Captain Hastelloy of the Republic fleet stands accused of the following charges:
1) Altering physical form through illegal use of a Nexus device
2) Violation of the council’s directive of non-interference with an alien culture
3) Murder of his subordinate, Lieutenant Tomal, and
4) High treason against the Republic by conspiring with the enemy
“Does the accused agree with or dispute these charges?” the magistrate asked.
“I emphatically deny every charge and will face my accuser,” Hastelloy stated in his most commanding tone while looking out into the filled stadium seats.
The Novi employed an inquisitorial system of justice where an impartial magistrate called and questioned the witnesses to examine any and all evidence, incriminating or exculpatory, in the case. Their role was not to prosecute the accused, but to gather facts and reach the correct verdict. Hastelloy had this system of justice in mind when he penned the often quoted phrase, ‘The first thing we do is kill all the lawyers,’ in his Shakespearian play Henry VI.
Any questions about the rule of law were addressed by the magistrate’s legal computer, which elegantly removed the unstable element of interpretation and the need for lawyers. Hastelloy could, however, pose questions and suggestions on his own behalf, as could the People’s advocate who was to be appointed now.
“Very well, let it be known that the accused claims innocence and a trial is required. Is there an advocate among those present who will prosecute the People’s case against the accused?” the magistrate asked.
In the days of old, a volunteer from the crowd who was either passionate about the case or particularly knowledgeable on the subject matter would step forward with a strong sense of duty to represent the People. Now this part of the proceeding was largely ceremonial as the People’s advocate was usually determined well in advance of the actual trial.
In this modern day and age, there were many who took on the People’s advocate duties as an opportunity to make a name for themselves for future careers in politics, law, or a transparent play for personal publicity. Given this was the trial of the millennia, there would certainly be no shortage of volunteers. However, unless Hastelloy was losing his tactical edge, he knew full well who the People’s advocate would be in this case.
“I will represent the People’s great Republic in this matter,” boomed a voice brimming with arrogance and a sense of entitlement.
“The court recognizes Chancellor Malum as the People’s advocate,” the magistrate replie
d and gestured toward the empty seat on his right.
The Chancellor took his time descending the five steps leading onto the main floor; this was his moment and he would milk it for every favorable tick in the opinion polls that it was worth. His fiery stare never strayed from Hastelloy as he prowled his way to stand beside his assigned seat.
With the ceremonial procedures now complete, the magistrate sat down, followed by everyone else in the chamber. “The trial will begin immediately. To address the first charge of altering physical form through illegal use of a Nexus device, the court calls Commander Gallono forward to give testimony.”
Chapter 2: Knowing Too Much
The moment Hastelloy heard the name, his eyes instinctively looked for Gallono’s familiar body that stood tall with strong shoulders and a head of dark brown hair. The Gallono he knew would take confident, graceful strides as he navigated the steps without effort down onto the main floor. What he found instead was a complete stranger holding onto the handrail as he clumsily forced his legs to make the descent.
After spending thousands of years in a human frame, the commander was still getting used to his short, spindly Novi form. Hastelloy could only imagine how wobbly his legs would be if he suddenly found himself in a body half as tall with one tenth the strength and stamina as before. It certainly took some getting used to going the other direction when they landed on Earth all those years ago and adopted human forms.
When this complete stranger reached the ground floor, he was hesitant to release the handrail. The indecisive moment reminded Hastelloy of a toddler not wanting to relinquish a parent’s hand while venturing out to take their first steps. This Novi struggled with every stride to remain upright as he traversed the twenty-foot journey to the chair seated opposite the magistrate at the central table. When he finally got himself situated in his seat, the complete stranger turned his head in Hastelloy’s direction and it was only then that he knew this was Gallono seated before him.
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