Over the following millions of years, hundreds of skilfully unproductive scholars and thousands of lavishly government funded researchers on Gloth studied this conundrum with zealous intensity, trying to discover why it was that Gloth was so uniquely more important than any other latter created heavenly body in the Universe, and why Glothians were clearly superior to any other form of living creature in the Cosmos. Even though this was all considered as a matter of fact, and therefore beyond any question whatsoever, the process of ongoing research into the blindingly obvious truth that Glothians were the most advanced and intelligent race in the entire Universe, kept a vast number of otherwise unproductive Glothian polymaths, occupied.
To ensure they kept their highly paid unproductive scholarships and fellowships, and their cushy full-time plus expenses government funded research posts, they all agreed, unanimously, that the reason Gloth was uniquely special had been scientifically proven beyond any skerrick of doubt. There was no debate to be had, as it was abundantly clear from all their ethnological research, scientific analysis and archaeological findings that Glothians were a whole lot smarter and therefore superior to any other life form on any planet in the entire Universe, because, well, they were. While their superlative filled reports to the Grand Council and the Supreme Potentate consisted of rational, scientific findings such as this, their jobs for life were safe. Gloth was obviously the first, the best, the smartest and by far the most very important planet in the entire Universe – because it was. As with any form of belief or faith based entirely on myth, the easiest way to prove its absolute validity is to ignore, deny and outlaw all contrary views, which because they question what has been firmly established as the undeniable truth, must be wrong, and therefore heretic, which of course is a crime and usually punishable by death. It is a tried and true recipe that has succeeded over millennia in ensuring that a convenient myth becomes the absolute truth.
It must be said however, that apart from all these official scientific findings, Gloth is by any measure of habitable planets, quite a nice place upon which to live. With beautiful, wide pink oceans, pleasantly complimented by pale mauve rivers running through its comfortably temperate continents, Gloth has a bit of everything for everybody. It has three moons, although one completely lost its ability to shine due to a mining project that went a little too far in the early days of rampant Glothic mineral exploitation. Luckily, mining was stopped on the second moon, due to a sudden downturn in the market price for Naepic-Silt, but not before it had lost most of its shine. However, the one moon that remained, which had the good fortune of being free of minerals of any value, shines nicely, giving the clear evening skies of Gloth a pleasant shade of pale magenta.
While its vegetation is verdant, abundant and often resplendent, Glothians spend little time admiring such wonders, as there are far more important matters than moons, rivers, oceans and plants. On Gloth, there are only two matters worthy of admiration – wealth and power. In these two respects, Gloth has exceeded any known measure of either, as through the savage prosecution of hundreds of victorious interplanetary and interstellar wars, the cunning use of graft, the installation of institutional corruption, clever intimidation and a total disdain for any other race of being, Gloth has always been the winner. Its power is infinitely absolute, as is its wealth.
Luckily however, Gloth’s impregnable power is limited to a tiny little area in the very far bottom left hand corner of a long outer spiral arm of a small galaxy called the Milky Way. Even though this infinitesimal patch of the Universe consists of Twelve Sun Systems, over which Gloth has total and absolute control of course, it is so far, far away from all the other inhabited galaxies, which are located in most part on the busier and more densely populated right hand side of the Universe, that the rest of the Universe is relatively, if not definitely, quite safe. Even with all its power and wealth, Gloth has not acquired the means to travel so far from home. Many empires in the galaxies on the right hand side do possibly have the means, but it would seem that if they indeed do, they really can’t be bothered using it to go all the way to Gloth. There are far more exciting places in the Universe to visit in their vastly more interesting and populated right hand side.
Gloth however, has plenty with which to occupy itself in its remote little territory of a mere Twelve Sun Systems, which consists of around one hundred inhabited planets, moons and asteroids. While all of the Sun Systems are secured under Gloth’s heavy-handed empirical control, there are always little problems that need attending to, and from time to time these annoyances require action from either Glothic High Command, which is in charge of scaring the masses by noisily blowing things up or shooting at people; or the Grand Council, which is the Glothic governing body of life appointed Glothic royalty and aristocrats, and has the sole task of sounding important. The Grand Council is also in charge of putting on extremely lavish dinners, mostly for themselves. If an annoying problem is troublesome enough though, and cannot be solved by an expensive dinner or a few loud explosions, it passes to the infinite wisdom of the Supreme Potentate of the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth to make a decision.
The history of the position of Supreme Potentate is a very long story, but in brief, the first one was called January the First. Perhaps it was because of the ability of Glothians to tell the time as soon as they came into existence that they also had a fascination with longer periods, other than simply seconds, minutes and hours. The recording of days and months created the need for an expanded system of measurement, and due to this, the calendar was invented. As it is recorded in ancient Glothic texts that January the First came to power within seconds of Gloth’s instant appearance in the Universe, and that the first month was named after him in his honour, it goes without saying that the concept of the calendar was not only important, but was also created quite quickly.
Glothic legend has it that after January was sworn in as the first Supreme Potentate of Gloth, his first decree was to restrict the use of the immediately revered names of the twelve months of the year to only his offspring and descendants, which became the Glothic royal family.
This reverence to the calendar however, became the cause of great angst over the proceeding millions of years, as there were only twelve names to choose from for those born into the royal family of Gloth, who were all of course direct descendants of the first Supreme Potentate, January.
The necessity to add ordinal numbers was the obvious solution, but only for male heirs, as Gloth, although quite forward looking and progressive on many fronts, has not looked that far forward as to consider that female members of the royal family could ever ascend to the position of Supreme Potentate. While unfair perhaps, sexist and hardly progressive, it meant that it was very hard to know whom all the Junes, Mays or Aprils were, unless there was a reference to the particular woman’s lineage. For the male members of the royal family however, it was simple. August the Tenth was to be followed by August the Eleventh and Twelfth and so on, but until they became Supreme Potentate of course, there was no ordinal number added to their name, so it was just as confusing for both genders. Perhaps it wasn’t quite so sexist after all.
Apart from the ongoing name confusion, there was a far more serious and embarrassing period in the history of the Glothic royal family, which is now rarely, if ever mentioned. Perhaps it was due to the veneration of the twelve months of the calendar, but Gloth got itself tied in a right royal knot after deciding to invest its energies into making a small and quite unremarkable blue planet, Erde, profitable. By taking a quick biological shortcut, it succeeded in turning the population of a large variety of ape based species on the planet Erde, into semi-intelligent humanoids. Unfortunately, the project turned into a financial disaster, and in a desperate move to try to cut their millions of years of losses, and finally wring a profit from the wreck, Gloth enlisted the services of an Erdean. Maybe it was because Pope Gregory shared a fascination with calendars that he was so easily accepted and invited to Gloth to advise on all matters
Erdean.
However, it turned out to be a calamity for Gloth, as within his lifetime, Pope Gregory managed to infiltrate, overtake, marry into and then take for his own, the royal family of Gloth and he become the historically despised Supreme Potentate, December the Tenth. It would take more than a million years to rid the royal family of his much-loathed Erdean gene, and return Gloth to the rule of pure Glothic blood.
Now famed in Glothic history, it was Septimity Fish-Roe who led the Blood Brotherhood to victory by reinstalling pure Glothic blood to the royal family and Supreme Potentate of Gloth and ridding Gloth of the despised Erdean ape gene. However, after his success in returning pure Glothic blood to the Supreme Potentate, his plan to return all living carriers of the Erdean gene, including all the members of the Glothic royal family who carried Pope Gregory’s genes, back to the planet Erde, which was not far from Gloth in Sun System One, was thrown into chaos. Erde rather unexpectedly and inconveniently blew itself up just at the moment Septimity had assembled a fleet of ships, full of the Erdean gene pool, which he had painstakingly collected from Gloth and from throughout the Twelve Sun Systems.
A hasty plan was developed by Glothic High Command, with a little after dinner advice from the Grand Council, and within a few weeks, Septimity’s flotilla of Erdeans was on its way to a new destination in Sun System Five – an uninhabited little blue planet, not dissimilar in size and appearance to Erde. This planet was called, Earth.
This solution solved a lot of problems for Gloth in the short term, and with Earth totally isolated from the rest of the Twelve Sun Systems by a blanketing force field, there was a nice, quiet and uneventful period of stability, as the transported Erdeans battled away for a few thousand years, evolving and learning how to adapt to their new planet, and become Earthlings. However, there was work to be done yet, and it couldn’t wait forever. It was time for Earth to finally make a profit after the aforementioned failed Erdean years, and add to the infinite wealth and power of Gloth.
This task would fall upon a young member of the royal family of Gloth, who also sits on the Grand Council at the insistence of his father, February the Twenty-Ninth, the current Supreme Potentate of the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth. In a peculiar twist of Glothic history, his eldest son March Gregorian, the young man who would take charge of the Earth file, was unusually named, as there had never been a Supreme Potentate in the entire history of Gloth, who was called March. If he ever came to the throne, he would be the First.
With all that had happened, and the years of strife Pope Gregory had wrought on Gloth, for some very odd reason, the Glothic royal family retained the family name of Gregorian, which derived from Pope Gregory. Perhaps it was the ring that would have been missing if they had had to suffer names such as August Smith, September Green, or June Smumph that made them decide to keep the name. For whatever reason, the Gregorian name remained famed throughout the Twelve Sun Systems – as a name to be revered, and feared.
Hold On Tight
‘Welcome aboard,’ the pilot said, as March entered the shuttle through the small hatch and had to bend himself almost in half to make his awkward entry, and then retrieve his small sack from outside.
‘Um, yes, thanks,’ March replied, clearly a little uneasy, as he accepted the pilot’s firm handshake. The headroom inside didn’t allow either man to stand upright, so they both stooped as they made their introductions. The inside of the shuttle was spartan at best, with its bare metal panels riveted together with no thought for design aesthetics, or comfort. Six seats, which were also made of hard metal, sat in two lines of three down the small cabin.
‘I’m Lieutenant Slicketty Clikk.’
‘March Gregorian. Um, you’re Lacertilian then?’ March asked quite needlessly, as he had immediately noticed the pilot’s ever so slightly pale green complexion and his forked red tongue, which was licking rapidly, and habitually, at his lips.
‘Yes I am. Is that a problem, sir?’
‘Oh no. Sorry for being so forward. No, on the contrary, I’m very, um, no, extremely reassured by the fact.’
‘Well, I’m sorry that it’s such an uncomfortable little vessel after your journey on a Glothic Cosmic Cruiser, but I’ll try to make our short trip as smooth as possible.’
‘Have you made this trip before?’
‘Three times, sir.’
‘And you’re still alive, so that’s a relief.’
‘I think we should take our seats and strap in, sir. You can sit next to me up front if you wish to enjoy the forward view.’
‘Enjoy? I’m not so sure, but yes,’ March said, as he followed Clikk to their seats. As they sat down, and Clikk helped him fit and lock his full body harness, March was surprised by the extremely modest instrumentation in front of the pilot’s seat and the fact that there was only a very crude and basic joystick rising from the floor, between the pilot’s legs. ‘You don’t get many buttons to play with, I see.’
‘Oh, you mean the dashboard,’ Clikk answered, as he understood what March was referring to. ‘I only have to make a few minor alterations during our flight, as the craft is controlled in the most part by my Flight Commander from the Hoog’s flight deck.’
‘Right. And is he Lacertilian?’
‘Yes sir, he is.’
March gave Clikk a satisfied, yet nervous smile, and then it disappeared quite quickly as he felt the shuttle moving in sudden jerks.
‘We’re being craned into the missile launcher. It should only take a few minutes,’ Clikk said, as he thumbed through a small black book, which March hoped was his flight plan and not a divine text for prayerful luck. When Clikk looked up from the book, and adjusted a setting on the rudimentary dashboard, March felt relieved. He much preferred to put his life in the hands of someone who used good judgement rather than one who relied on spiritual luck, when being fired from a Hoog destroyer’s missile launcher and shot into space at half the speed of light, right on the tail fire of an extremely nasty ballistic missile. ‘There’s a helmet on your right. Best put it on and fix the visor down to protect your eyes.’
‘From what?’ March asked, as he complied and started to slip the helmet on, while their shuttle was lowered into the eerie darkness of the Hoog’s missile launch chamber.
‘From the flare the missile will create when it opens a gateway into the force field. It will be only a short distance in front of us, so it’s necessary to be protected,’ Clikk said, as he fitted his own helmet.
‘Have you been to Earth?’ March asked.
‘No, well, except for my three fly-over missions to drop off and pick up passengers. You seem a little apprehensive.’
‘Yes, I am a bit, but mostly about the getting there, rather than the being there.’
‘Don’t worry. Once we’re through the force field, it’s all plain sailing after that and then a simple matter of getting you down in the right place.’
‘And where is that exactly?’ March asked, and then tensed as he felt the shuttle shudder violently and heard a loud scraping noise.
‘Don’t worry. That was just our shuttle being attached to the launch vehicle.
‘A missile?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’
‘My mission plan is to teleport you down as close as possible to coordinates, latitude 51.513047, and longitude 0.165457, at oh three hundred hours.
‘And that is where exactly?’
‘I have no information other than the coordinates. Sorry.’
‘I understand,’ March said, although he didn’t really, but decided to sit as quietly as he could, seeing that Clikk was concentrating on his instruments and black book, as his red tongue licked nervously at his lips with greater frequency. If they survived the entry through the force field, there would be time to worry about other minor details, such as where he was actually going, later.
‘Two minutes to launch,’ Clikk said, as March watched the bay door open in the distance in front of them, giving a view of a few stars twinkling be
yond. ‘Launch is quite a jolt, so hold on tight to the hand grips on your seat and push your feet as hard as possible against the foot rests in front of you.
‘Does it help?’
‘A bit,’ Clikk replied, as he carefully put his black book into a compartment in his seat arm, closed the metal cover, and then began bracing himself for launch. ‘One minute to launch.’
March could hear the faint crackle of a voice coming from Clikk’s helmet, as he pushed a little harder with his feet and tightened his grip with his hands.
‘Thirty seconds,’ Clikk shouted, as a very loud whining noise started to hurt March’s ears, and a huge thud rumbled through the tiny frame of the shuttle.
‘Copy,’ March heard Clikk say in reply to something that was probably important, but only for Clikk’s ears, and then he swallowed hard on a surprise torrent of bile that decided this was an appropriate time to launch itself up into the back of his throat. The shuttle vibrated violently, first from side to side, and then from back to front. March pushed his feet even harder against the footrests, and dug his fingers into the armrest to steady his body, but it didn’t help at all in settling his stomach, which was now in the throws of performing nauseating somersaults.
An enormously loud, ear drum bursting boom accompanied the feeling March had that his face was being torn off and repositioned on the back of his neck, and that his stomach was exiting his body through his back. He had no time to enjoy the launch and the breath taking view it offered in front of him of Earth, and the moonrise near its northern pole. He only had the time to stop breathing and close his eyes.
March: A Tale of Salmon and Swedes (The Glothic Tales Book 4) Page 3