Mineran Influence

by PN Burrows

  ‘Oh come on. This is ridiculous, you’re saying some godlike, ageless entity, over 10 billion years old, looks after everyone and basically acts as a primary school teacher for the universe.’

  ‘A rather simplistic statement and the answer is yes and no. The Overseer claims no power and wants no homage. He quickly shuts down the zealots who tried to create religions in his name. I personally think it’s an ancient race of beings that have been around far longer than us and are so far advanced that we will never catch up. Where and who they are remains a mystery. They make themselves known only when we step out of line, and yes, I think they look upon us as children, nothing else makes sense. There are lots of historical docuvids on the matter. I’ll get you access to them once we get this sorted out.’ Finishing his coffee, he eyed the last piece of toast. ‘There were also seven new languages introduced to aid communication between races. Different types of communication depending on the physical ability of the race. There are several based on vibration frequencies, er, sound languages. There are also light, feel and smell languages. You might be interested to hear that your own Queen’s English is a bastardised version of Unilang One.’

  ‘So English and the ancient Greek language are with your compliments then?’ Pouring a second cup for himself, he needed to rehydrate his body.

  ‘We have, over the centuries, tried to bring you into line with the ISPAW’s standards, to make the transition easier for when you are intelligent enough to join. You might be amused, or maybe not, to find that most of your modern and ancient languages are alien to this world. Even though your planet is officially cordoned off because your populace is too retarded to join the Council. So, officially there should be no contact, no visitors, and no manipulation from off-world. However, the truth couldn’t be further from that. Every major system has representatives here, working in the shadows of your governments and large corporations. Advising and dropping technological hints, just enough to lead you down certain pathways. If they are too overt we can step in and clean up the mess.’

  ‘So what have they given us, and why not just teach us all the same language?’

  ‘Normally it’s small technical logical advances, concepts and suchlike. And, because if one day, in the far, FAR future, you’re deemed worthy enough to join the council, they will already have a foothold here for trade negotiations. Let’s put it in perspective, the information they give probably looks more advanced from your perspective. Let’s imagine you saw an early Paleolithic man picking up the first rock to club an animal. He’s just about to discover how to reshape the rock and you jumped in and showed him flint knapping just before he got there naturally. In his eyes you have reshaped the next 3.4 million years commonly known as the Stone Age. You would be godlike in his eyes, but all you’re really thinking is bloody primitives, can’t even shape a stone. Well, that’s what certain off-world factions are doing here. Primitive simple tech, a hint of a chip design here, a chemical formula there. We only recognise the interference when the products are released. Occasionally we will pre-empt it if our deep network scans pull up suspect information.’ Reb buttered the last piece of toast and picked up one of the tall glasses full of fruit juice. ‘We, they, whichever, have maybe inadvertently altered and shaped your history from day one. Three-quarters of your modern languages can be traced to off-world cultures, either directly or indirectly. Hell, you didn’t think French was a proper language did you?’ He laughed. ‘That’s the nursery language for the Phlenenards.’

  ‘Phelan… who?’ Sam struggled to say the name.

  ‘Phlenenards, their lava don’t develop what they call higher brain functions for three decades. It’s their infant talk, similar to your cutchycoo, binkie, booboo. A Phlenenard in his prime can out-compute any AI or array that I know of. Their young would have the mental capacity of your best scientists. The Phlenenards are literally organic computers on legs and bloody boring to boot.’ He looked across at Sam whilst stuffing a toasted corner into his mouth. ‘Go and get some sleep Sam. Someone will bring up some fresh clothes in a few hours and we can continue our talk then.’ He pointed to the stairway across the room. ‘Go up the stairs, first door on the right. If you need anything just pick up the phone by the bed.’ Reb got up and thanked the bartender as he left.

  Stifling a yawn, Sam rose as the barman arrived to clear the plates. ‘I’m hoping he hasn’t stuffed me with the bill?’

  ‘Not to worry Sam, this one’s the Captain’s tab,’ he said with a wink. ‘Nice to have you on board. I quite like the locals in these parts, you humans are so inquisitive. Still, what with your short lives and what not. What is it they say? The flame that burns twice as bright, burns half as long, shame really.’ With those morose words he ambled off, carefully balancing the dirty plates on the tray.

  Sam would later discover that the Overseer also gave ten complex equations, explaining that each equation, once fully understood, would enhance understanding and the quality of life for all. The first and easiest one to decipher, albeit only 82% deciphered to date, was designed to humble the member planets of ISPAW. It described the reality that they lived in. It shattered any illusions of grandeur, describing the formation of the Universe not as a solitary event but one of millions occurring in the colossal void of space. They previously thought that a random act caused the formation of the universe, however, it was in fact the coalescence of matter produced by the collision of extreme energy particles passing through the void that we call space. Thus the universe was created, but not just the universe, the Infiniverse. These rare occurrences happened millions of times over in the timeless age of the endless void. It became known that the order of things was planet, solar system, galaxy, universe and Infiniverse, the gaps or voids between each becoming exponentially larger than the ones before. Not only did it describe a working model for the Infiniverse, it mathematically proved that the energy particles came from elsewhere, proving an existence or realm beyond current comprehension. It was thought that the remaining 18% would describe what was beyond the Infiniverse. It must be noted that no member of the ISPAW had ever seen the edge of their ever expanding universe, so vast is its nature.

  The partial decoding of the second equation led to an understanding that aided with the beginning of the third. They seemed to cover theoretical energy sources and a greater understanding of the building blocks of life. Neither the second or third equations had been deciphered past 15%, even with three planets of Phlenenards working constantly on them. The other seven equations were so far beyond current understanding that only a few of the higher thinking systems could even consider the subject matter, let alone decode them.

  The Overseer proclaimed that once the ten equations were understood then the ISPAW would no longer need his guidance as they would have attained a sustainable enlightened level of consciousness.

  Sam found the room easily enough. It, like the bar downstairs, had a rustic wood theme. The super-king-sized bed had stout wooden corner posts and it was covered with a feather filled duvet. ‘I could get used to comfort like this,’ Sam said to no one in particular. He was too tired to worry about cameras and spy holes, if they wanted to view him showering, good for them.

  Within fifteen minutes he was in bed, still slightly damp from his shower and smelling of beeswax from the rough block of soap. Most ex-military retained the ability to drop off at a moment’s notice and Sam was no exception. Even the light coming in from the open curtains failed to disturb his deep slumber.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sam awoke several hours later to the chirping of an alarm. He looked at the bedside cabinet to find that someone had placed a small digital alarm clock there with a folded note. Stretching, he let his finger crawl over the top of the clock until he found a depressible surface and pressed; he hoped it was the off button. Grasping the note, he brought it closer to read. ‘Meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Reb.’

  Sitting up he saw that his dirty cl
othes had been removed from the chair where he had left them and replaced, cleaned, on the cabinet. ‘Jeeze, someone likes laundry duty,’ he muttered.

  He was happy to see his Scottevest jacket hanging on the back of the chair. From where he was sat, he could barely see the repair work covering the puncture marks.

  He dressed quickly and found the suitcase with the rest of his belongings from the bed and breakfast at the foot of the bed. He was dismayed to find that his jacket had been stripped of all utilities, including his wallet, phone and gun. Sliding his arms into the jacket and shucking it over his shoulders he left the room, but not before making the bed. Old habits!

  Reb, Nik and the captain sat at the previous table with mugs of steaming coffee in front of them. A spare mug sat in front of an empty chair. The captain offered it with a gesture of his arm. ‘There will be a few sandwiches in a minute if you’re peckish. I thought you should know the results from the test and we can answer any other questions you might have. We forget what it must be like from your perspective. This is all new and somewhat unbelievable. Reb will take you onto the mountain later and you can see the disposal of those barrels that you worried so much about. Once you are satisfied with that, we can get on with the more important matters, such as what you want to do. It is, after all, your choice if you wish to enlist. Also, we have a security issue. How did Urser know when and where to find you and how did he get in? Solving this conundrum is paramount. This enclave has never had an incursion before. Its location is a highly guarded secret, as are all enclaves, you can understand the significance of what I am saying.’

  ‘It doesn’t necessarily mean you have a traitor in your midst, anything could happen in the future to give away your position.’ Sam picked up the mug of hot black coffee as he replied.

  ‘I hope you are right, Sam, as only Minerans have ever manned this outpost and we don’t like to think it’s one of use.’ Nodding to Nik, ‘What does your report say, Nik?’

  ‘Sadly not as much as you would like, I am afraid. We have determined that the arm is thirty-five and a half years older than Urser is today. That does not help us as the vascular tissue shows evidence of cryogenic fluid residue, meaning he has been on ice for an undeterminable amount of time. It could have been for a day, a year, or a decade, there is no way of knowing.’

  ‘I thought cryofreeze had limitations, cellular degeneracy sets in after a few decades. Can’t we use that to measure the period of time?’ asked Reb.

  ‘Well, yes and no, for two reasons. One, only commercially available units suffer from CD. The council has had CD free systems for centuries. Two, the temporal degradation has made this impossible to gauge. The structure of the arm has broken down too much. It is, as we speak, no more than a length of jellified organic material. By tomorrow it will be a slurry. Shooting him was the kindest thing you could have done to him, Reb.’

  ‘Actually, by the time I reacted he was already dead.’ He slid a silver disc into the middle of the table. ‘On.’

  The round wooden table top was turned into a screen. Sam could still make out the wood grain through the ghostly blue image. It was a ghostly blue recording of the events at the decrepit cottage taken from above. Seeing Sam facially query, he answered, ‘Orbital reconnaissance drones.’

  Sam lifted his mug a fraction off the table again to see if picture was beneath, it was. Reb touched the table and the video played. They could all see Sam arrive at the back courtyard, having circled round. A shadow moved from the outhouse as Sam approached the wall. The barrel of the weapon was clearly visible as the recoil caused it to glint in the low morning sun. Sam fell to the ground, stunned for a fraction of a second, his head looking along his prone body at the three protrusions sticking out of his midsection. Reb could be seen running from the far side of the building, gun in hand, a fraction of a second too late to prevent the assassin from bringing his weapon to bear. Sam’s arms moved quickly, a flash of silver lanced across the screen to become lodged in the assailant’s head. Reb touched the table top and the picture froze. Sam was on the floor, the other knife in his hand ready to throw, the metallic handle protruding from Urser’s head and Reb one step from clearing he corner of the building. Reb gestured with his hands on the table and the picture zoomed down and angled to Sam and Urser. The thirty degree angle alteration clearly showed Sam’s throwing knife sticking out of Urser’s throat. ‘I have to give the credit to Sam, I didn’t realise it at the time, but I would have been too late to save him. I have played the surveillance back for thirty days prior to this and it is as Nik said. Urser seems to have just appeared into the outhouse building after I arrived and cleared the area.’

  ‘Again that’s not possible.’ The captain looked from under his bushy eyebrows towards Nik. ‘Nik, you need to sort this out, there should have been alarms going off all over the place. Reb, get Bob on it and see what the council have to say. We are still working in the dark here and I don’t like it. The authorities will keep an eye on the present-day Urser and watch him carefully when he is released in a few years or so. Besides that, were there any leads in the blood?’

  ‘No, someone has worked hard to obscure Urser’s whereabouts. The blood had been through some form of dialysis. There were no foreign bacteria, pathogens or viral infections present. The only thing we could find before the tissue degraded was that he suffered from high cholesterol.’ He looked across the table a little crestfallen. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault, Nik, you can’t find what’s not there. We carry on as normal and hope they slip up at some point.’ Getting up from his chair the captain took a sandwich from the platter that was being deposited on the table. ‘Carry on, gentlemen.’

  Stretching across, Reb used his fingers to inspect the repair work on Sam’s jacket. ‘Not bad for a rush job,’ he proclaimed. ‘Eat up, Sam, we have a busy afternoon planned,’ he said whilst slathering a large beef sandwich with speckled and lumpy mustard. Putting the knife down on his plate, he continued, ‘Oh, that reminds me.’ He pulled a small box from under the table and handed it to Sam. ‘You might want these’.

  Sam tilted the box so he could see inside. There were two throwing knives, similar but not the same as his originals and a new Glock with three magazines. ‘You’re giving me my gun back?’ he enquired.

  ‘Not exactly. Yours was not repairable, Nik had this one fabricated as a replacement. The workshop will have improved on the original design, I think you’ll approve,’ he said with a smile. ‘Be careful what you shoot at, these,’ holding up one of the magazines, ‘have more poke that you are used to. A friction reactive compound, blended into the metal slug, produces a small silent explosion. It propels the fragments into a controlled wide cone shape increasing trauma and tissue damage. We try to keep the compound levels low, as to make them undetectable to your forensics.’ Smiling at Sam, ‘You’ve seen the results, first-hand.’

  Sam loaded and cocked the Glock, and inwardly sighed as the familiar and welcome weight settled in his jacket. Pulling the knives out of the box he looked at Reb.

  ‘A nice alloy that doesn’t corrode and it will keep its edge for longer.’ He took hold of one of the knives. ‘These are perfectly balanced for handle throwing and besides the finger loop for your cuff pockets, they are an exact copy of our standard tactical throwers.’

  ‘Em, can you put the board on?’ he shouted to the barman. After a few seconds the wall in the far corner of the pub illuminated. Again, Sam could make out the wood grain behind the overlaid graphics. The board, as Reb called it, was eight feet wide and to the ceiling. It currently showed a large countdown timer starting from five. After it hit one, the scene changed to portray a typical office environment. The scene moved in first person perspective and entered a doorway. Reb’s arm swung in a lightning fast blur as a gun-toting balaclava masked figure appeared behind a hostage. The frame froze when the knife struck the wall, leaving the handle protruding from between the assai
lant’s eyes. ‘Help yourself, if you want to try them out.’ Sam looked across the bar room, the throw had been deadly accurate, over a distance of forty feet from a sitting down position. There was a faint white line on the floor by the bar which Sam walked up to. Taking position and slowing his breathing, he threw the knife over the twenty-five foot span. The knife struck and barely penetrated into the hardwood behind the image, but he only managed to nick the top of the balaclava.

  ‘Don’t feel too bad, Sam, most of our recreational games are designed to hone our combat skills and as I said, we are much stronger and faster than you.’

  Sam retrieved his knives and returned to the table. The picture of a faceless Urser was still being displayed. Upon seeing the direction of Sam’s gaze, Reb removed the metal disk from the table and replaced it into his pocket. The image faded as soon as the disk moved from the table. ‘We’d better head off, I just need to pick up a few supplies for the Doc.’

  They both walked across to the bar where Emliton was sat on a stool, elbow on the polished wooden counter and his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

  ‘Em, can we have the bottles for Doc?’ As they drew alongside the barman, Reb nudged him awake. ‘Wake up, Em.’

  With a sudden snort, Emliton looked up, surprise showing in his eyes. ‘Sorry Reb, must have nodded off, what did you say?’