Help 2nd Edition

by Arturo F. Campo

The year, 10,537 BC (Earth time)

  It was mid spring, five thousand years later. Nengut and Femed found what they prayed and hoped. Well-populated civilizations were in northeast of Africa, East Asia and along the west coast of Central and South America (as they are known today). As planned, they woke Commander Nerus and his team to locate the Atomic Converter’s construction site while Nengut and Femed and twenty others were to look for people they would entice and relocate to help Commander Nerus build the infrastructures needed towards the building of the atomic converter.

  After a week’s excursions, Commander Nerus’ team found the construction site. It was within King Arth’s kingdom in a region now known as Giza in Egypt. On Nengut’s part, she knew where to find the people they needed. The two teams met and concurred---it was time to initiate the Atomic Converter Project and woke everyone.

  EPISODE TWO

  The construction of the Atomic Converter had two major independent phases: Preparation Phase: accumulation of raw material; and Construction Phase: building the infrastructures and support facilities that would ultimately lead to the construction of the Atomic Converter. Unable to operate both simultaneously, the Rians initiated the Preparation Phase first and elected Central and the eastern part South America as sources for agricultural products and preprocessed industrial material. In their plan and timetable, this phase must be simple and easy to manage that in less than a year, trained humans would operate and manage the operations themselves and the Rians to provide only support.

  The Central and South America Projects

  Enticing the natives of the Americas came far easier than they anticipated. The native’s shaman predicted the arrival of their gods coming in a fiery object from the sky for generations. The descending bright airship came close to their shaman’s prediction. Nengut, assigned to make the first human contact, was astounded beyond belief to what had unfolded. Instead of fear and the natives running away when they came, they were pleased, happy, and excited! Men ran hurriedly to their fields and gathered fruits while the women gathered flowers. By the time the airship landed, fruits and flowers had encircled where the airship would land. When its door opened, the entire villagers, men, women, children and even mothers with babies in their arms, were singing and dancing. They stumped their feet to the rhythm of a lively song; waved their hands in the air with some holding flowers and others, fruits. They were overjoyed as their shaman foretold the gods will shower them with gifts; make the gardens green; their animal healthy and big; heal their sick. All that became true as time passed.

  Native runners spread the word from one village to another that when the Rians came to visit other populated areas, large and small, houses in the villages were adorned with fruits and flowers. The landing area filled with it. They received them with open arms. Though the natives of the Americas thought the Rians were gods, the Rians insisted that they were no gods but children of God. The natives misconstrued the statement to mean that the Rians were deities. The Rians never realized the abstract misinterpretation. It was a blessing---what the Rians requested of the natives were taken as the will of the gods and were pleased and eager to serve.

  With the use of their multi-function airships and the native’s help, they built housing communities; cleared and prepared vast track of lands for industrial and agricultural use; and food storage facilities. They built irrigation systems for their crops; dug and blasted mountainsides for its mineral deposits; and constructed rough roads that linked work communities to each other from Central to the eastside of South America. Simultaneously, they taught agricultural techniques and showed methods in raising domesticated farm animals for food and as beasts of burden. They introduced the farming of corn, potato, other vegetables, and created a simple pictorial stone calendar (the Mayan Calendar) to time planting, harvest, deliveries, and pickups.

  The Southeast and Central America projects worked so well that in seven months, with the training and systems the Rians provided, the communities expanded and worked independently to produce the raw and preprocessed material they needed. With abundant material reserves and future supply assured, they decided it was time to negotiate with King Arth.

  KING ARTH

  Giza Plateau, Egypt

  In the year 10,535 BC, Giza in Egypt had a subtropical climate. A savannah dotted with sparse trees over vast fertile grasslands. The eastern fringe of the Sahara Desert was three hundred miles west of Nile River, and King Arth's citadel, at the top of a plateau, was three miles from the present-day Sphinx. But then, the Sphinx was but a large outcropped rock in a relatively flat region and no Great Pyramids existed then.

  Amo Obib, by virtue of his religious vow of isolation from worldly activities, and Commander Nerus’s time and expertise to oversee their humongous project could not be spared, Nengut, being a sociologist, was appointed Ambassadress to act as a liaison between the Rians and humans.

  Bright Object in the sky

  Within the airship, Nengut with her two assistants, Femed and Felyap, were in their skin-tie radiation protective suits that covered their lean framed body from head to foot. Its silvery-gray color was broken only by two over-sized almond-shaped dark glasses that protected their eyes from glare among its other multiple functions. Their head’s crown was slightly larger from the miniature electronics installed within. Their nose, ears, chin, and mouth were but impressions over their suit. After looking over her two assistant, Nengut remarked, “Don’t we look intimidating in our protective suit?”

  Femed and Felyap looked at each other with great interest.

  After careful examination, Femed answered, “I agree.”

  “What do you think Felyap,” Nengut asked.

  “We definitely look unnatural. Intimidating and scary too, much like a ghost with big dark eyes. I don’t think it’s wise to wear them.”

  “Let’s take them off and just not leave the airship,” Nengut decided and they pressed a button on the side of their suit and the entire protective suit shrunk to a walnut size package leaving them in their white uniform and leather suede shoes.

  An hour before sunset, the airship headed for King Arth’s citadel. Under the its belly, varied ripe fruits adorned with flowers, their gift, were levitated and engulfed in a transparent light-blue colored hazy below the airship. High above the king’s palace, they turned on the airship’s protective shield that got it to glow brightly.

  On the ground, people looked up to a slow descending bright ball of light against the clear blue sky. It hovered when it was three-hundred feet directly above the palace courtyard. By then, the citadel’s inhabitants were on open grounds and rooftops to witness the unusual sighting. Few stared out of curiosity but the majority saw it as the child of their sun, a manifestation that lend credence to their High Priest Shadeh's preaching that the sun was their god, Ra.

  Within the king's palace, a palace guard in panic approached the king who sparred with someone at the palace gym. The king, in loin cloth and headband over his short-curled hair, was an epitome of a tall well-built athlete. He had a manly bearded face, piercing brown eyes with heavy eyebrow, a well-toned body, and firm muscled arms and legs. The guard bowed waist deep and as he caught his breath said, “Your Highness . . . there is a bright object hovering above the courtyard.”

  The king held on to his sword and looked at the guard. “What bright object?” he asked questioningly in a kingly manner.

  Before the guard could answer, the High Priest Shadeh, a slim long-bearded tall man with narrow face and deep set dark eyes was in his white temple robe. He came running as he excitedly shouted, “Your Highness, Your Highness, the son of the Sun God, Ra, is here!” In his excitement, he forgot his usual flowery exultations of the king.

  The king looked at Shadeh and asked with sarcasm, “Is your news good or bad?” He did not believe in gods and thought the priests were fools fooling fools. However, it gave him an aura to his throne and some control over his people that he tolerated their presence and staged dramas within
the kingdom.

  “The stars sent a message last night and . . .”

  “How come you're telling me this only now?” King Arth roared.

  “Ah . . .” Shadeh stuttered. Improvisation was a talent that earned him the High Priest post but this time, he had no immediate answer. Deep within, he thought the bright object was after him. He had fabricated so many lies to think he angered the gods. Shadeh finally said, “The message said that I was to approach you only when the Son of Ra showed himself in the sky.”

  “And?” King Arth roared again.

  “To prepare you for his coming,” Shadeh replied then, pointing to the chambermaids, he said in rapid succession, “You, you, and you prepare the king for his presence to the Son of Ra. Get his best rove, his crown, his scepter, his . . .” he rumbled instructions to distract the king’s attention.

  The chambermaids were dumbfounded. The king had dozens of everything Shadeh had asked and froze at their place.

  King Arth observed Shadeh amusingly. ‘It is not a bad day to test his arm's strength and see if he can still cut a neck with his sword in one swing,’ he thought. Lately, as king, he left the messy stuff to others. “Forget the scepter,” he addressed the chambermaids in a commanding tone. “Get my sheath and the tunic,” referring to a plain and old leather sword sheath and the tunic on top of a chair. He loved the sheath. It was light and so was the sword he had on hand.

  Not in an offending tone, Shadeh contested “Your Highness!”

  “Alright, find me a presentable tunic.” the king commanded the chambermaids.

  Cautiously, Shadeh suggested in a low, submissive voice, “A robe would be more appropriate, Your Highness.”

  “I said tunic,” the king stressed, waving the chambermaids off.

  The chambermaids bowed then ran.

  “And you,” King Arth said as he looked at Shadeh, “Make prayers for something good to . . . to . . . What's his name?”

  Shadeh answered meekly, “Ra, Your Highness.”

  “Yes, Ra. Make lots of prayers on anything. And, thank the guard who came before you. He may have saved your life.” Interrupting his workout was something he did not like and mused at the thought of cutting Shadeh’s head and dry it under Ra’s rays.

  Bewildered, Shadeh reacted, “Almighty?”

  “Go!” King Arth commanded.

  Shadeh bowed then ran hurriedly out the room.

  King Arth

  King Arth was a warrior whose skill in combat a few dare challenge. A tribal leader who fought and earned himself a kingdom. In the early years, his ruthless reputation preceded him and his army. 'Capitulate or die,' was the message sent. True to his warning, those who lifted a finger died a horrible death. Soon, cities and villages bowed rather than fight, and became known as 'Lion of the Nile'. As they feared, they also revered him as just and liberal to those who aligned themselves to him.

  As king, he had mellowed. He was tired. Tired of the stench of blood; of the long marches; of the fighting. He had left this to his aspiring generals and there were many. Lately, he wanted to be closer to his people but the thought of maintaining the aura and stature of being a king a barrier that prevented that. He became isolated and spent more time fortifying and building his city and be with his son, Prince Otil, his only child from his first and only wife.

  The Invitation

  The bright object was a stone-throw above the cobbled courtyard when the king emerged from his palace. His first reaction was to go on defensive mode but noticed his soldier’s weapon were on the ground. Shadeh had spread the word to drop their weapon lest the son of Ra be offended. Furious, he lashed orders for the soldiers to arm themselves and stand ready. The king did not believe in gods and if it were really gods, he would rather die with his sword in his hand.

  Nengut, Felyap, and Femed watched on the airship’s monitor the confusion below as military officers ordered forcefully soldiers to arm themselves and man their station. A few fled in fright, and those who stayed, shook in fear at their post with their weapon in their hand, and their head slightly bowed to avoid the sight of the ship. They feared their boldness of having a weapon in hand in the presence of the gods would blind them and even cause an agonizing death.

  At the palace’s courtyard, the king’s special guards surrounded him with swords drawn by their side. Though Shadeh would have wished the king wore a king’s robe, the king’s attire befitted a king. He wore a white tunic whose hems were embroidered in gold. His gold gilded waist belt held a dagger and a sword with delicately curved ivory handles in bejeweled sheaths. Most of all, he wore a narrow band crown made of gold he hated to wear.

  On one side of the courtyard, Shadeh, in his most elegant temple robe with his white garbed priests prostrated themselves on the ground at the front of the temple. As the glowing craft descended to land, Shadeh shouted at the top of his voice, “Drop your weapons and bow your heads!”

  In contradiction, army officers commanded, “Be on guard.” In the confusion, an archer at the parapet accidentally launched his arrow. It flew straight toward the airship. When it got to the fringe of the airship's glow, it burned in an instant. Instinctively, he placed another arrow to his bow and aimed again.

  King Arth paid no attention to Shadeh's caution and stood amidst his men with eyes focused on the descending ball of light. Unfazed, he looked directly at the bright white light that strangely did not hurt his eyes. Behind the glow, he saw a silhouette of a saucer shaped airship forty feet across with arranged fruits and flowers that floated beneath it bathed in a light-blue haze. He commanded the guards before him to kneel just to see the airship in its entirety as it descended.

  Slowly, the airship laid the fruits ten feet away from the king’s front guards and landed on its tripod ten feet behind. The glow vanished as a ramp from its underbelly extended to the ground. Its door slid sideways making a sharp air rushing sound. The doorway was wide, a third of the airship’s width.

  Nengut, motionless at the doorway, had her arms raised to form a letter 'V'. She brought her hands to her chest over her heart then stretched it out palms up towards the fruits then placed both hands, with arms crossing each other to her chest.

  The king was surprised to see what seemed like a lean-bald kid in white snagged-fit outfit and in leather moccasin shoes making sign language.

  Nengut repeated her gestures.

  The King, in a king’s composure, made his way through his knelt soldiers to the pile of nicely arranged fruits surrounded by flowers. He picked a grape among the fruits and popped it in his mouth. He chewed as he unbuckled his belt that held the sheathed sword and dagger, and walked around the pile of fruits towards Nengut. He stopped at the ramp's edge and held up his gift with outstretched arms.

  Smiling, Nengut waved at the king to come closer.

  The king heeded and walked up the ramp far enough to hand over his gift with outstretched arms as he quickly scanned the airship's insides from where he stood. He saw the lights on the ship's console but failed to see Femed and Felyap, who separately hid on both sides of the door inside the ship. They were poised to snatch Nengut and close the door at a hint of danger.

  “Greetings and thank you so much for your gift King Arth,” Nengut said as she accepted and held on to the king’s gift. “I am Nengut, the Rian Ambassadress. My leader, Amo Obib, extends his invitation for dinner tomorrow. He will be most honored if you accept.”

  “And the purpose?”

  “Seek your help.”

  Nengut’s request amused the king. Grinning, he replied in a casual manner, “I prefer the meeting be to know each other first and talk on other matters after.”

  “You are so right,” she responded hiding her uneasiness through her feminine smile. “It will be so arranged . . .Will you come?”

  “I will.”

  “We will pick you here before sunset tomorrow. Will that be fine?”

  “Before sunset is fine.”

  Nengut grinned. “Before sunset it will be,” s
he said, then moved one-step back and watched King Arth walk clear off the ramp.

  She waved goodbye, and the king waved back.

  On Nengut's slight finger signal, Femed pushed a button and the airship’s door closed.

  Goddess in Fear

  King Arth watched the airship lift and hover way above the citadel and, to his amazement, it was out of sight over the horizon at the blink of the eyes. When he turned, his three generals, Suba, Mismar, and Odi were walking towards him. The three were his childhood friends. They were instrumental to his becoming a king and trusted them with his life. He met them half way. “Let's go inside,” he said, without missing a stride.

  Walking alongside, Suba, the cavalry commander, asked, “What do the gods want?”

  “They want our help,” the king snapped.

  “Gods wanting help from us?” Suba exclaimed in disbelief. “Shouldn’t it be the other way?”

  The king heard Suba; looked at him; and wondered.

  “What kind?” Mismar, the king’s right hand man, followed up. He was the most analytical of the three generals, and was his war strategist and political adviser.

  “It happened so fast it didn’t occur to me to ask. I will have a chance tomorrow. She invited me to meet their leader for dinner.”

  “You mean sun god, Ra?” Odi, a heavy-built man in-charge of the foot soldiers and archers, asked. He believe in gods but despised Shadef for being arrogant when the king was not around.

  The king reflected. “No god or gods were mentioned.”

  “I will go with you,” Suba suggested.

  “It is better I go alone. I will have a better chance of knowing what we're up against.”

  Mismar, the cautious and shortest of the four, said, “Don't be too trusting. We don't know anything of these . . . they should leave hostages to ensure your safe return.”

  Odi interjected, “Having hostages will not mean much. Saw what happened to the arrow? That can easily happen to us.”

  “Odi is right,” Suba said then asked the king, “How do they look?”

  The king looked at Suba questioningly. “How do they look?” he echoed

  “I bowed my head when the thing opened its door,” Suba replied with discomfort.

  King Arth turned to Odi. “And you?”

  “I did not look,” Odi snapped uncomfortably.

  The king looked at Mismar and could tell he did not look either. “I will deal with Shadeh later,” the king irritatingly said. “Next time, don't listen to anyone but me. None of you saw anything to help.”

  “How do they look?” Suba repeated with outmost curiosity.

  “There was only one and she looked much like the Kalahari bushman, short but baldheaded and much paler. She was always smiling yet I saw fear on her face.”

  “What made you say that?” Mismar asked.

  “I've seen fear from people's face many times. She feared me.”

  “What's your plan?” Odi continued.

  “I will think of something but definitely the sissies should stay home and keep the house clean,” the king joked.

  The rest joked at each other and together they laughed.

  KNOWING EACH OTHER

  The return of the god’s chariot the following day spread like wildfire throughout the city. Hours before sunset the following day, the city’s inhabitants were on rooftops and every conceivable open space with a clear vantage to the palace atop a plateau. Viewing prime spaces were jam-packed with people who jealously protected the small area where they stood. Shoving and some fist fight became common.

  The palace guards, in their formal military attire, were in formation at the courtyard. Metal ornaments on their uniform, sword and knife handles, and spearhead shined from the setting sun’s light. King Arth was at the palace steps in full military gear. His thick hide chest armor embossed with a lion was over his gold trimmed tunic. The sword and dagger hung from his waist belt; his metal headgear polished and held under his left arm. The regalia was for a reason. The king had deduced the Aliens were no gods nor did they represent one. They had the technology to make themselves rulers of the world and wondered why they requested help rather than demand the service. That was what he would have done. Regardless of who or what they were up to, he must know who he would be dealing with and devised a simple scheme to learn as much as he could before he met their leader.

  Before sunset, the airship appeared from the horizon flying at high speed, and abruptly stopped five-hundred feet directly above the palace courtyard, then slowly descended. With the airship's shield turned off, the metallic-gray flying saucer was clearly visible. When it landed, King Arth approached the craft before its door opened. Within, Nengut, Femed, and Felyap were straightening their uniform, failed to notice the king walked towards the airship and up its ramp. The king's sudden appearance at the doorway startled the three. Visibly shaken and frightened, Felyap and Femed moved close to Nengut's side.

  Nengut noticed the king was armed. Masking much of her fear through a smile, she said nicely, “You need no armaments to where we are going.”

  “I do not go anywhere unarmed,” the king replied with authority. “You must leave behind hostages to guarantee my safe return.”

  “You have nothing to fear. We are peaceful people. No harm will come to you,” Nengut said nicely.

  “I do not know you or your people,” the king answered and observed their minutest reaction with his eyes shifting focus on the three faces before him.

  Stymied, Nengut conferred with Femed and Felyap in whispers then she faced the king. “We came unprepared. Will leaving my assistants be adequate?” she said with unease.

  “I am worth at least a hundred,” the king said sounding proud.

  Nengut reacted, “But there are only thirty-six of us altogether.”

  The king noted Nengut's reaction and reply. He sensed she was flabbergasted and her companions wide-eyed in fear. ‘To go further may cancel the meeting and he did not want that’, he thought then said, “Since I gave no advance notice, I will forgo the requirement. To show good faith, I will leave my weaponries behind.” Unceremoniously, he threw his headgear outside; unbuckled his belt with the sheathed sword and dagger, and threw them as well. He did the same to his leather chest armor leaving him in his white gold-hemmed tunic and the thin-rimmed gold crown on his head.

  Shadef was behind a palace pillar. His head leaned slightly just enough to see the king's back facing three short beings he concluded were Ra’s children.

  Nengut introduced Femed and Felyap then ushered the king inside. She led him to a wooden armed chair specially built for his wider butt that faced the airship’s screen. But the king preferred to stand.

  As the king stood, he noticed the wooden chairs inside seemed out of place within the ship and the other three armed seats were too narrow for his rear. It was only then that he realized how small the Rians were. All three stood below his shoulder level.

  King Arth, nearly six feet tall, barely had a foot of clearance to the ship’s ceiling. He looked around nonchalantly knowing he was dealing with short-frightened people. On his part, he would have sent his best general. ‘Why send shy and inexperienced envoys?’ the thought crossed his mind.

  Accustomed to the jounce of a moving chariot, the king held on to the console's edge with one hand. On seeing the receding citadel on the screen, he was amazed but pretended to be unimpressed and continued to observe Felyap’s activities over the console.

  Felyap explained, in simple terms, what she did. Since King Arth seemed attentive, she continued to explain. During this time, the king's mind was somewhere else. He fantasized on the things he could do with such a ship to even look at the fast passing scenes below on the ship's wide screen that fronted him. He was thinking of the kingdoms he could easily conquer. Two lay across the Nile River, King Adazil and King Silrab's domains. They were the only threat to his kingdom. However, when two equally powerful kings meet, they do the logical thing---form non-aggression
alliance and build bigger armies to maintain the balance of power or fall. It was that simple.

  “Have you talked to King Adazil or King Silrab?” King Arth asked Nengut with concern.

  Nengut expected the king to be wary of the two kings. She knew real peace never existed between kingdoms, only lulls between minor conflicts. “No, we want to talk to you first.”

  The king was relieved. He had the first advantage and thought, ‘I must prevent the Rians from negotiating with either king, if I could help it.’ He knew from experience the kind of god people worshipped gave some indication to the type of people he would deal with, so he casually asked, “My people think you are a goddess. Are you?”

  Nengut had preconditioned herself to the probable questions the king might ask and replied, “I am no goddess or any of the people you will meet gods,” Nengut answered in her smiling way.

  “Do you believe in gods?”

  “We believe in one almighty God.”

  “Only one God? Isn't that taxing for one God to manage everything?”

  Nengut femininely laughed. “Only one God,” she assured. “He is almighty and manages the land, seas, and everything.”

  “Aaaah . . .” King Arth exclaimed as he schemed. “I personally do not believe in gods. Does this God of yours kill people?”

  Nengut did not anticipate such a question to be asked, and reacted immediately, “Never! Our God is an all-loving God. Our God helps people, not harm them.” She then realized what King Arth was up to. She was dealing with a lion and decided to think like one and added, “There are other ways of doing it.” The facade made her uneasy.

  King Arth noticed the change in her voice and manner. She had revealed something inherent to the people he would deal with. He was certain they were timid creatures from a distant land and hoped the rest were just as naive as her, and he relaxed.

  “We are here,” said Felyap as the airship pierced through the pyramid ship west wall partly embedded on the hillside amid a lush jungle where it landed over two million years ago.

  Only Technology

  The Rians, in their identical white snugged-fit uniform and dark-colored leather moccasin shoes, were at the landing bay excited to welcome their first guest, their hope. They were anxious---travelled so far, worked so hard, and prayed with fervor that the man they would soon meet would be willing help them.

  Amo Obib and Ningning, with lei on hand, approached the king as Nengut led him down the airship’s ramp. At the ramp’s end, the king bowed low to allow both to put their lei over his head---Ningning was four feet five inches tall and Amo Obib an inch taller. Nengut introduced the king to Amo Obib and Ningning. In turn, Amo Obib introduced the rest of the Rians who stood in a line by the airship.

  The king noticed everyone was no taller than the amo and wore identical white outfits but found it odd to match it with an off-colored leather moccasin shoes. It did not blend well with their uniform. Surprised to notice too, that the only thing that distinguished the amo from the rest was the triangular medallion he wore.

  The king, with wonders expressed on his face, was visibly engrossed as he looked around. To which Amo Obib said, “I know you have many questions. All will be answered in time. Are you curious of our one God?” the amo asked.

  The question took King Arth off guard. ‘It would be embarrassing if they knew what was in his mind’, he thought. “You read minds?” with apprehension, he asked.

  “I must apologize. We did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation. I assure you, there was no bad intention. All of us here watched you and Nengut converse over the monitor.”

  “Monitor?” King Arth questioningly said.

  “I owe you an explanation. Let us go to a room and I will show you what I mean.” He led him to a small office cubicle. It was clean and austerely furnished---all made of varnished wood. The desk had some stocked papers neatly piled on one side; a pen lay squarely at its center; an armed chair behind it; a stool fronted the desk; a triangular frame with an eye embedded (their equivalent to a Christian’s cross) hung on one wall; and nothing else. He asked the king to sit on the stool as the armed chair was too narrow for his butt, then said, “Goopersh, replay the video record of King Arth with Nengut from the beginning.”

  Keenly observant, King Arth was looking around at the room’s wooden furnishings and was stunned when the wall fronting him lit showing him going up the airship’s ramp. Speechless and wide-eyed, he saw himself enter the craft; ask leading questions to Nengut as they flew over. It was obvious he was scheming from his gestures and facial expressions.

  Amo Obib noticed the king was stupefied. “I assure you it's not magic.”

  “How can you do this without magical powers?” the king was bewildered.

  “There is no magic. In time, we will teach your people to build a machine that records events as what you have witnessed. I know you can read and write. It is like General Mismar writing words on papyrus. You can repeat it by reading what he wrote. What you saw were written images and sounds repeated."

  “How were you able to know my general’s name . . . know I can read and write?” the king asked obviously baffled.

  “Without your knowing, we studied your people and your language. It is a long process which I will explain in the near future.” Amo Obib answered but sensed it was not the question the king had in mind though it was the question asked and emphasized, “We, Rians, are no gods nor possess any supernatural powers. Think of us as people from a distant place, as mortal beings. We are much like you . . . we thirst if we do not drink, starve if we do not eat, and die like everyone.”

  “And the only difference between us is your tools?” King Arth concluded with interest.

  “You are so right. What you saw are only tools that we call machines, gadgets or devices, and they are not magical instruments. We want you and everyone else to know that. And that we come in peace as friends and mean no harm to anyone.”

  “Will you teach us how to build the flying chariot that flew me here?” the king eagerly asked.

  “Yes, and more but . . .”

  “I will pay anything . . .” King Arth reacted. Since he started the sentence, added, “Anything that will be fair to both, of course.”

  Amo Obib noticed the break in spontaneity and smiled, “If you help us, in the end it will be far more than fair and beneficial to you, your people, and people of this world.”

  “In that case, I do not see why we cannot come to an agreement,” he said in relief and regained his posture. “What exactly is it that you want?”

  “We will talk after dinner. It is better to negotiate with a full stomach and when both know each other. Isn't that so?” he asked, as he looked up straight at King Arth's eyes.

  King Arth grinned as he looked down at Amo Obib. “I like people who speak out what they have in mind. It leaves out the guessing and saves time.”

  “Indeed, and time is precious. I understand you are a man of your word and pick your words carefully. We, Rians, are people that stick to our word. Can we agree on one thing before anything else?”

  “That is?”

  “Can I take your word, as I swear before my one God, that you can take mine?”

  King Arth sensed Amo Obib's sincerity and responded, “I swear by my . . .” he stopped. He had no god to swear by. He looked at Amo Obib then said, “I swear by my beloved wife's memory that I, King Arth, ruler of West Nile, swear to honor my word.”

  Both men shook hands as they smiled at each other to everyone's delight.

  The Rians

  As they walked through the hallway towards the dining room, Ningning explained to King Arth what the rooms were. With all their technologies, the king found it strange to see the office cubicle’s walls and its furnishings were mostly made of wood and bamboo. However, he reserved his questions.

  When they got to the dining room, Ningning led the king to his seat, and excused herself after he sat.

  King Arth sat alone at the dining area w
ith a full view of the Rians behind the kitchen counter busy doing something. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he looked around. The dining room had varnished wooden dining tables arranged to form a circle with a space to pass in between tables. Each table had a low-lying colorful bouquet that gave the room a lively atmosphere but no food on them. A long wooden service counter separated the kitchen from the dining room. Behind the counter were worktables, a cooking area, wash counters, and a number of lined wood storage cabinets that formed the kitchen’s back wall. He noticed his table was almost a foot higher than the rest. He leaned down to see what was under and saw his table’s legs propped by wooden blocks and so were the two chairs by his sides where Amo Obib and Ningning would sit.

  The Rians brought their own food in wooden food trays to their table but the king was surprised to notice Amo Obib, Ningning, and two other prepare his table bringing food on vessels that captured the king’s imagination. Seemingly simple and ordinary objects found along the shorelines and riverbank transformed to objects of beauty to become his plate, saucer, soup bowl, drinking vessels, and eating utensils. The Rian’s were consummate artisans, he thought. Then, he noted that the elegant tableware was only for him. The rest had their food in partitioned wooden food trays and eating utensil made of shell and bamboo.

  The king felt uneasy by himself doing nothing. When Amo Obib placed a bowl of fruits on his table, he leaned and whispered to Amo Obib, “I am not familiar with your custom. Should I be doing something?”

  “Oh no. You are our guest,” Amo Obib replied.

  “As their leader, shouldn't they be serving you as well?”

  “My people are just as curious to your reaction as I am. If you forgive me, I have to tell them what you asked so you can see us as we are. “Your attention please,” Amo Obib addressed the group who stopped at the midst of what they were doing. “King Arth asked me why I, your leader, shouldn't be served.”

  It brought a polite laughter from the Rians.

  King Arth forced a half smile. He did not understand why they were laughing and looked at Amo Obib, puzzled.

  Amo Obib said to King Arth, “Point to anyone to give you the answer.”

  Amused at the request, King Arth looked around as he tried to find the face that fit a name he remembers and said, “You, Indit,” as he pointed to someone on his left side.

  “I am here,” Indit answered standing eight feet from King Arth's right side.

  King Arth turned to look at her, visibly confused. “I have your names in my head but you all look almost the same that I don’t know who to pin them to,” he said.

  The Rians heartily laughed but the harder laughter came from the king.

  When the laughter abated, Indit said, “Since you called my name, I will answer. There is no difference between Amo Obib, who is our leader, and I.”

  King Arth did not understand. He turned to Amo Obib puzzled and wanting an explanation.

  Amo Obib explained, “You see King Arth, in the world we come from, there are no social strata. Kings and servants stand on equal footing. We believe in helping and respecting each other, and when you do, it matters not who you are.”

  “It is a strange culture,” King Arth confessed. “What should I do if I were to behave as you Rians would?”

  There was a short silence and Thel, in-charge of cooking, broke it. “I know what you can do. Bring the roasted deer specially cooked for you. It’s heavy.”

  The king went to the kitchen with Thel; took the roasted deer from the clay oven; and, with Thel’s help, placed it on top of a wooden platter covered by a large banana leaf. He brought it to his table as Thel brought the sauce. The roasted deer was small for everyone to feast on but the Rians were vegetarians and insect eaters so the roasted deer was only for him and more than sufficient to fill his appetite.

  Seated on the king’s left, he noticed Ningning’s food was on a partitioned food tray similar to the rest of the Rians. He glanced at Amo’s at his right side and saw it was no different. He did not ask why, he knew the reason---it was in their culture.

  King Arth visibly enjoyed the food prepared especially for him and the pleasant atmosphere that prevailed. Except for the short prayer of thanks for the food, his presence, and the safety of those stranded in space, there were no further formalities, no protocols. Everyone talked freely. They were at ease and acted as themselves. There was a sense of openness in their character, and an air of being totally free. He found pretenses not present as they interacted with him and with each other. He liked the camaraderie and saw the difference when people treated each other as equal---the wholesome atmosphere it created. Sadly, he realized such culture would not fit in his world. Protocols are necessary and pretense, important. Power and stature have to be displayed; signs of weakness should never be shown. ‘How wonderfully different the Rians are,’ he thought. He enjoyed the cooked deer immensely and commissioned Thel, in jest, to be his royal cook but got her to promise to teach his cooks her secrets.

  After dinner, everyone helped clear the table. King Arth did his part. Amo Obib did not stop him as the king was having fun and mingling freely with the rest. On seeing Ningning doing the dishes, the king was again taken aback. ‘Is this for real or just an act,’ he seriously asked himself.

  The Curious Questions

  After clearing and cleaning the dining room and kitchen, with King Arth doing his part, he, with Amo Obib and Nengut, proceeded for the conference room where the amo told their story and predicament. It took longer than Amo Obib anticipated as he had to illustrate and explain some things for the king to understand. At the narrative’s end, the king asked, “You said that if you get exposed to the sun for too long you will get burned? Is the Sun God more powerful than you?” bothered as he associated the sun to be Ra, the mightiest of gods as the High Priest, Shadeh, had preached.

  “The sun is no god,” Amo Obib said and explained, “It is much like a big ball of fire . . . It brings light and warmth like the bonfire in the desert in a cold night except the sun is immensely enormous and nothing else. Rian body cannot tolerate your sun's direct sunlight most especially when it is directly overhead on a cloudless day. Have you tried placing a cockroach under the noon sun?”

  “Cockroach? Noon sun? No,” King Arth was perplexed.

  “Cockroaches live always in darkness and will never expose itself to the sun. If it did, it will die.”

  “Is that why Nengut came when the sun was close to set?”

  “Exactly. A cloudless noonday in Ria is similar in brightness and warmth as your sun is three-fingers before sunset. Thus, like the cockroach, Rian bodies are not conditioned to this planet's intense sunlight.”

  “I see. How about this thing that comes from the ground that I cannot see?”

  “Radioactivity. The answer is complex but the analogy is the same.”

  “And this prevents you from leaving the shelter of your ship unless properly clothed or standing on a metal floor?”

  “Yes,” answered Amo Obib who, from King Arth's questions, was relieved to know the only difference in intelligence between humans and Rians was Rian technology.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Let us go to the other room so I can explain better the help we need.”

  Model City and the People to Build It

  Amo Obib, joined by Commander Nerus, led the king to a room with a miniaturized model of a well-planned metropolis on a large display table. It depicted high-rise residential areas, commercial buildings, industrial zones, roads, rail tracks, auditoriums, athletic fields, amusement centers, parks, and anything a modern city would have. Though the terrain looked familiar, it did not make sense until the king recognized his palace on top of a plateau and the fortress that surrounded it. He pointed to it, “Is that my palace and around my fortress?” He looked disturbed as it occupied a very small portion of the entire layout.

  “Yes. It will remain intact as a historical heritage,” Commander Nerus answered.

  The kin
g pointed to a pyramid-shaped block said, “And that is where your ship will be?”

  “Yes, roughly over three thousand steps from your citadel,” replied Commander Nerus.

  The king pointed to the circular cylinder that nearly surrounded the entire model, “The huge circle that surrounds the area, I gather, is the tom converter?”

  “Atomic converter,” Commander Nerus corrected and then added, “But it will be built under the ground.”

  King Arth looked at the metropolis in its entirety as he walked around the large table with his left arm across his chest, the right-hand fingers fiddling his beard with Amo Obib walking alongside. The king realized the enormity of the project. “It took us over sixty full moons to build a small part of my palace and it's not finished. This will take many, many seasons. I do not have that many people who can work on this.”

  “What would you suggest?” Amo Obib asked fully aware of the bad blood between adjacent kingdoms for which there were only three in the region---King Arth's, King Silrab’s, and King Adazil’s. The Rian’s plan was to get additional help from people outside the region but Amo Obib wanted King Arth to suggest that.

  King Arth said, “We cannot seek help from King Silrab nor King Adazil. Their people and mine have battled for ages. Too many family members have died. The ones alive have too much hate to bring some form of peaceful solution to the problem.” The king paused then paced the room with his arms folded across his chest. He looked at Amo Obib and gambled, “One of the conditions for my helping is for you to help me rid of King Silrab's and Adazil's. That way, we can control all the kingdoms and use their people as slaves to work on the project.”

  Amo Obib replied with resolute, “We have the machine to destroy this world. With the push of a button, we can vaporize King Silrab or King Adazil’s kingdom in a blink of an eye but we will never use this power for that purpose. I will not allow the use of our technology to harm a single person nor will I allow slaves to work on this project. That is firm and final.”

  “I have slaves working for me. What do you have to say to that?”

  “What you do outside the project will be your concern. We will not interfere. I only wish and pray you would stop and learn to love and respect the people around you.”

  King Arth noted Amo Obib's statement. He was inclined to believe Amo Obib was a benevolent leader and so were his people. They will not pose a problem to him but he had to come up with an alternative before they include King Silrab or King Adazil or both in the negotiation. That, he must avoid. He did not know Nengut advised Amo Obib that too. “There is a solution,” King Arth said taking a chair and sat.

  Amo Obib took the chair that faced the king; sat; and said, “We are interested in hearing,”

  “I know there are civilizations far beyond the seas and mountain ranges. If you bring them over, then we can plan on how we could best manage them. However, I must think about it before I give my commitment.” His concern was obvious in his face.

  “Please do,” Amo Obib replied with relief. The king gave the answer he wanted to hear. Nengut had briefed him on the issues and concerns the king may have and continued, “But as you are thinking of it, please remember, this is your kingdom and you are the king. We, Rians, are merely your temporary guests and are under your rule and so will the people we bring in. As long as no harm comes to anyone, I see no problem with any proposal you will suggest.”

  King Arth looked at Amo Obib and said, “You have addressed my primary concern. Knowing how valuable fuel and time is to you, I will have something ready tomorrow. It is late and wish to think of a suitable arrangement. Since I am amenable to your moving the ship near the citadel, you can fly it there so you will not waste any more fuel than necessary.”

  Amo Obib took King Arth's advice and asked the king to watch the monitor to view the ship lift off the ground and head for its new berth.

  It was close midnight and the moon was full and bright to see the ship, through time, almost half encrusted by the forest on the hillside. In the still night, the ship softly hummed then lifted slowly. Animals screamed in fright, filling the cool night air with myriad of frightened sounds as they scampered for safety in panic. Ripped out of its moor, the noises from uprooted roots, breaking branches, and toppling trees that had embraced the ship for millenniums resounded miles around as the ship slowly rose in the air. Over the forest canopy, a huge chunk of land with trees and undergrowth clung on the ship's west face. The ship hummed a little louder, accompanied by a light blue glow, and the clinging vegetation was instantly repelled. It fell a hundred feet below making loud crashing sounds that echoed through the darkness. The ship headed for its new berth. Without lights, it floated silently and landed on an uninhabited grazing land three miles from the citadel. A few minutes later, a lone airship left the ship and headed for the king’s palace.

  CIRCUMSTANCES AND OPPORTUNITIES

  The palace night guards stood at their palace post leisurely. Scattered groups of soldiers sat around bonfires waiting for the king’s arrival at the courtyard. Sentries atop perimeter walls looked outward at the starry sky waiting for a glimpse of the airship. Laughter heard every now and then; here and there mixed with the cool night air. Hidden by the night, emitting not a sound, the airship’s nearby presence surprised a sentry as he stared at a ghostly shape that blocked the star lights behind it. It was barely a hundred yards away. He shouted aloud, “The chariot is back.” Hastily, the guards ran to their post and straightened their uniforms then stood erect. The airship landed seconds after and they watched their king walked down the airship’s ramp. The commander in duty was there to meet him and together watched the airship close its door and fly up then away.

  As King Arth walked towards the palace, he instructed the commander, “I want to see at least thirty cockroaches caged and unhurt by noon tomorrow. I want an enclosure made . . .” he continued his instructions and at its end, added, “Send a courier to tell the prince to be here before sunset. Do you think he can make it?” the king asked. He sent the prince to tour the neighboring garrisons a week earlier.

  “If he rides hard, he might,” the Commander replied.

  “Send word to the prince to come and have fresh horses waiting for him along the way. Spread the word that the people have nothing to fear from the flying chariots or from the metal mountain at the distance. They are our friends.”

  “It shall be done your Highness,” then in a whisper said, “Shadeh is behind a pillar spying.”

  The king grinned. He was in a good mood to think of anything else. He whispered back, “I will take care of Shadeh,” and in normal voice said, “Good night.”

  Shadeh’s plan

  Behind a palace pillar, Shadeh strained to hear the conversation between the king and night guard commander. He heard the king's instructions on the cockroaches but not what was whispered. Shadeh, as a small boy, played and tortured cockroaches by tying its leg and left it under the sun. He would watch the little creatures scamper to avoid the sunlight; squirm from its stinging ray; and later die. It dawned on him that it was an example to show Ra's power over mortals. At his god's whim, it could do it to humans. As High Priest of the sun God, Ra, the king must reckon with him if he gets the god's favor first. Shadeh knew the king was furious when he instructed the soldiers to drop their weapons. For that, his life may be in grave danger. He must get the god’s favor or he will have to flee the kingdom. He schemed as he headed for his temple.

  Tall, huge stone pillars surrounded the temple. Flames from torches around flailed from the breeze passing through its inner sanctum. Curtains danced with the wind. Shadeh, at its altar, knelt before a stone statue of Ra, a large disk held aloft by the falcon's wings, and prayed, “Why did your children not look or speak to me, your loyal servant, Ra the mightiest of gods? I, your humble servant who faithfully served you for years, prostrated myself . . .” Shadeh prayed and chanted for hours. Each time he said, “Talk to me god of all gods, Ra the mightiest of all,” he pa
used and intently listened. And, each time he heard only the fluttering sound of curtains flapped by the wind. Hours passed when his eyes caught the falcon's shadow cast by the torch light against the wall. It swayed side-to-side. In his mind's eye, the shadow began to dance as it held the disk aloft. Shadeh was hallucinating! Exulted, he shouted, “Thank you Almighty Ra, Lord of all Gods!” and left the temple running.

  Shadeh concluded it was Ra's sign and interpreted it to mean that the only reason the gods spoke to King Arth was that the king stood bravely before Ra's envoys as the falcons did as it held up the disk. The king was bold and fearless before the gods while he shivered in fear on the ground. He must ask for atonement for his cowardly act and show Ra he is equally, if not bolder, than the king. He must let the mightiest of gods know that it was he, Shadeh, the High Priest, who served Ra and looked after his people and temples. After which he will report the king's mockery of the highest of gods and of his loyal servants. Shadeh had swallowed enough insults and indignities, and this was his chance to straighten things, but his presentation must be good and spent the evening planning.

  The King's Proposition

  The following day, the king woke early and found his three generals help themselves to breakfast at his dining table. “Good, you are all here,” he said as he sat on his chair then filled his plate. “Our visitors need our help,” he said and started eating.

  Suba, unsure if the Rians were gods responded, “The gods seeking our help? They are gods! Why . . .”

  “They're no gods,” the king interrupted then stuffed food in his mouth. “They are just like you and me except they have tools they call machines and gadgets which will make you wonder.”

  “Who are these people then, why are they here, and where did they come from?” Suba questioned, bringing nods from the other curious two.

  The king narrated the Rian's predicament then concluded, “There are only thirty-six of them here and thousands more lie sleeping among the stars waiting to be saved. They have to refuel their ship else they will all die. They have 26 summers to do it. That is why they need our help.”

  “Only thirty-six here?” Mismar asked to ascertain.

  “Yes, thirty-six,” King Arth affirmed.

  Astonished, Suba asked, “How could thirty-six fly the big shiny mountain?”

  “You've seen the bigger chariot then?” the king questioned.

  Odi answered, “Everyone by now has. It’s parked at the grassland. We even saw twenty-one smaller chariots leave before sunrise.”

  “There are more inside,” the king added. “I have agreed to let them bring people beyond the mountain and seas to help build this Atom Converter in our domain.”

  “How many,” Suba asked curiously.

  “Four-hundred-fifty thousand workers plus their families in a span of seven full moons,” the king said in passing.

  “Four-hundred-fifty thousand?!” Mismar exclaimed in disbelief.

  The king continued, “But King Silrab and Adazil's people will not be part of this venture.”

  “How will we house and feed all those people?” Suba inquired with concern.

  “The Rians will take care of that and we will profit from it. Our problem is how to control the people they bring. Start giving suggestions,” the king instructed.

  Suba started, “They should not be allowed to have weapons and we must have freedom to police and insure that this is strictly complied with.”

  “They must be restricted in movement,” Odi added and the four continued the deliberation.

  They were on the same subject for most of the day except for a break when the sun was directly overhead on that cloudless day. King Arth and the generals went to the courtyard where he had the covered cage of cockroaches brought. It was on top of a table. He took the cage’s cover exposing the cockroaches to direct sunlight. They watched, with outmost curiosity, how the cockroaches tried to escape the sting of the sun’s rays; how it struggled to escape the enclosure lined with slippery leaves; saw them turn over with legs squirming in the air then die in agony. He explained the reason behind the experiment; explained the radiation coming out of the ground that would make the Rians sick and later die; and why they were confined to their ships or be specially clothed if ever they left it.

  Go Along

  Two hours before sunset, the king had a well-planned proposal. Before he concluded their meeting, Suba said, “All these plans are good only if we can trust the Rians. What if they decide to use the four-hundred-fifty thousand against us?”

  “They don't need those people to conquer us,” the king stressed. “It still bewilders me that they do not use their machines to get what they want. Strangely, I feel I can trust them.”

  “Nevertheless, we should have a separate plan if things do not go as expected,” Mismar suggested.

  “Yes,” Odi followed up. “There are only thirty-six of them. Why don't we just take over and let them be our slaves and use their machines?”

  “It's not that easy,” Mismar commented. “I think these people will rather die than be slaves, that is, if they are as what our king says they are.”

  Suba interjected, “Even if the king is wrong, their machines are worth nothing if it does not have the fuel it needs and no one knows how to run it. It is like having a thirsty camel in the middle of the desert with nothing to drink and no one knows how to ride it. It is useless. The ship must be fueled and we capable of handling all their machines. Otherwise, it will not be of any value to us.”

  Odi joined the discussions, “We will play along until the time comes, then . . .”

  The king listened intently to the deliberations then interrupted, “I want the three of you to plan for contingencies. For now, we have no choice but to go along. I have to prepare for their arrival. You continue,” and left them.

  BENEVOLENT CREATURES

  The Spoiled Prince Otil

  The black Arabian horse Prince Otil rode was wet with sweat and muddied by the dust that accumulated on its skin. The prince was no different in his dusty cape and tunic. His face, arms, and legs were covered with dump dust that encrusted on its folds. He was not manly looking as the king nor was he fair looking at all. His face was narrow with a beak-like nose and protruding front teeth. But he had deep set brown eye and eyebrows that look much like his mother. Unlike his father’s short curly hair, his was wavy and tied as a ponytail behind his head. On horseback, he stopped hard at the palace courtyard and headed directly for his father's chamber.

  The king said happily, “Good you made it, my son. Go freshen up and I will meet you at the courtyard.” He was dressed up and ready.

  “I just rode in. I need rest,” the prince shrugged throwing his dusty cape to the nearest chambermaid whose head instinctively leaned sideways to avoid the dust and sand that came out of it.

  “You don't have time. This is an important event and I don't want it marred by your absence or your being late. It is important you meet these Rians. Did you see the metal mountain?”

  “I did,” the prince answered coldly. “They are mortals. They can wait.”

  “Who told you?”

  With arrogance snapped, “I have sources.”

  Irritated by the remark, the king looked at his son then said, “I will wait for you at the courtyard before the sun touches the horizon. As I said, this is an important event and I want you there.”

  The prince reacted, “You taught me never to show eagerness and let anyone wait until we are ready even if we are. Let them wait, whoever they are. I will be ready after the sun had set,” the prince protested and started to leave the room.

  “Otil,” the king said in a subdued voice. “They will not wait. It is I who will wait.”

  Prince Otil stopped, turned, and looked at his father. “I am tired. Set a time for me tomorrow,” then walked towards the door.

  The king thundered, “Otil.” His hands clenched tightly into a fist. “I am no longer telling you. I am commanding,” he roared. “Don't kee
p me waiting.”

  Prince Otil continued to walk.

  The king realized he had spoiled the prince. He pampered him as he grew to a point that he tolerated his insolence. Now, he saw how bad it had gotten. “Otil,” he shouted loudly. His face flashed red.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the prince shabbily replied without looking. “I will be there,” and closed the door behind him.

  Prince Otil

  Prince Otil was the king's only son with his only wife who died a few months after the child's birth. An assassin's arrow missed Arth, a tribal leader then, and hit his wife instead. As she lay dying on his arms, she made him swear to make their son a king. He vowed before she died and mourned her loss by going on a killing rampage.

  King Arth did not know who wanted him dead. There was a power struggle among the tribes and kingdoms. Anyone could have ordered it. But that did not distract him from his goal. He killed anyone he remotely suspected. When he found out, it was too late. King Silrab’s father ordered him killed. However, the father died of some ailment and King Arth cursed the gods for depriving him of the kill and swore never to believe in any god.

  The prince, as a child, was always with him during his marches to build an empire. The king considered the little one his lucky charm. At a tender age of eight, he had given the prince power to judge and order people killed, and had him watch them die too. He taught him everything he knew---how to be ruthless, unforgiving, and never to bow to anyone but him. He told him never to show fear and always fight with anger in the heart. He personally trained him to use the sword, spear, bow and arrow, and often demanded too much of the little boy. It had its rewards. Prince Otil, at age eighteen, was an exceptionally skilled warrior. It had a price too---the Prince Otil was spoiled, heartless, ambitious, and growing independent of him, qualities the king would not hesitate to have someone killed but Otil was his son and he was proud!

  Incident at the Courtyard

  King Arth and Prince Otil stood at the courtyard; lined honor guards were at their post. Their eyes fixed at the descending airship to notice Shadeh emerged from the temple and ran towards the king. His hands held up his elegant robe to keep its hem from touching the ground and timed his gait to be beside the king when the airship’s door opened.

  Shadeh's sudden appearance by the king’s side surprised King Arth and caught him off guard. Before the king could utter a word, the airship's ramp extended and its door opened. Nengut stood alone at the doorway.

  Shadeh moved quickly in front of the king and prince; bowed deep; then proudly announced aloud to Nengut, “I am Shadeh, High Priest of your Father's temple. I brought you presents, Child of Ra, the Sun God, the mightiest of gods.” He then turned toward the temple and with his right hand waved at a priest at its door.

  Nengut saw a priest at the temple entrance acknowledged the signal; opened the large main temple door; and waved the people inside to come out.

  Priests rushed out of the temple with a bloodied body of a man with outstretched arms bound to a pole and held up by two at both ends. The man's head dangled as blood dripped from his mouth; his bound legs flailed as it bounced on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Behind was the tortured man's family---his wife, son, and daughter, age six and eight respectively. Their necks linked together by a rope. Three priests prodded the mother and her two children to run as they poked hard their back with a baton. On reaching a spot ten feet from the ramp’s edge, the entourage prostrated themselves leaving the tortured man lying on the ground and his family standing beside. His wife’s arms were bruised; her lips and cheeks swollen; clothes stained with spluttered blood; and with both hands, clasped two wide-eyed frightened children in shock, by her side.

  The barbaric display petrified Nengut. She froze, speechless with both hands over her lips; her eyes stared in disbelief and revulsion.

  The king, saw Nengut distraught, pulled a sword from a nearby soldier's sheath and raised it to swing at Shadeh's nape.

  Shadeh head was looking proudly at his gift, unaware of the king’s intent.

  “No!” shouted Nengut to the king.

  Shadeh heard Nengut shout and instinctively turned his head and saw the king's sword frozen in midair. Terrified, he raised his arms to protect his head. Visibly frightened, reasoned in haste, “He is the man who defiled the gods. He launched the arrow at their chariot yesterday!”

  Nengut ran toward the tortured man. “How can you do this atrocity to this man and his family?” she said as she knelt and took the man's pulse from his neck, “He is alive. Please help him,” she pleaded as she tried to untie the tightly knotted rope that dug deep into the man's swollen, dirty, and bloodied arm.

  King Arth hurriedly moved toward Nengut and pulled her up by her arm as he commanded, “Guards, untie the man and gather all the temple priests and their family.”

  Nengut, hysterical, struggled to free herself from the king's hold. Unable to escape, she turned and pleaded in tears to the king, “Help him please. We must bring him to the ship.”

  “It will be done,” King Arth hastily replied, “but you are putting yourself in danger. The thing under the ground will harm you,” he reminded.

  Nengut had forgotten the danger. On seeing two guards helping the unconscious man, she ran back to the airship and stood by its doorway simultaneously ordering in urgency, “Goopersh, tell Ningning and Doctor Kitsa to meet us at the landing bay. Tell them I am bringing over a badly injured man and three others.” She watched the soldiers cut the ropes that tied the man to the wooden pole and the woman to her children.

  Goopersh responded, “I will comply.”

  “Cut all the priests' heads,” King Arth roared.

  “Please, no,” Nengut beseeched, “or you will be as heartless as the priests.”

  The king motioned his guards to stop with his left arm. Beheading the priests in front of her was now unthinkable. He realized an opportunity to observe Rians react to the situation. ‘This will definitely give me a good idea as to who these Rians are’, he thought. “The displeasure was done towards you as well. What do you want us do?”

  “Let Amo Obib decide. Please have your men bring the man and his family in the airship. We may be able to save his life if we hurry. Please,” she begged.

  The king ordered a soldier to rush the unconscious man inside the airship and instructed the man's family to follow.

  A soldier, with his arms, carried the unconscious man to the ship as his family tailed. He laid him on the floor and then stood to wait for farther orders.

  Inside the ship, the woman stayed close to her husband on the floor with her children huddled by her side. The king and the prince stood by one side.

  Nengut knelt and felt the man's pulse again then said, “We have to hurry. This man may not have much time.” With a hypodermic gun, she sedated the man. “That will calm him and slow down his internal bleeding,” she explained.

  King Arth instructed the waiting soldier, “Gather the priests and their families at the courtyard. Make sure no harm comes to them.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the soldier snapped bowing waist deep and left.

  Nengut went to the craft's control panel and punched keys. She radioed the incident to Amo Obib hurriedly then attended to the tortured man as airship flew on automatic mode.

  Prince Otil watched the entire event coldly. Curious, he observed what Nengut did a few feet away. The man's wife was on her knees by her husband's side. Tears flowed from her cheek as she gently wiped the blood and dirt off his face with the edge of her soiled robe. Her children crouched by her side trembling uncontrollably in fear.

  The airship flew back to the pyramid ship; pierced through ship’s west-wall, and landed on its tripod. When its door opened, Ningning, a surgeon before she joined the church, and Doctor Kitsa with a nurse rushed in. The doctor attended to the man while Ningning and the nurse to the wife and two children.

  The doctor scanned the man with a small handheld device. He said, “His arm and legs bones
are broken . . . and some of his ribs. He is bleeding internally.” He took a small device from his pocket and aimed it at the unconscious man. A light blue haze bathed the man's body and levitated him two feet off the floor. Like a wheel-less carriage, he guided the floating body out of the airship and rushed for the surgical room.

  The man's wife clasped her frightened children by her side when Ningning beckoned them to follow her. In fright, they did not budge. It was only on the king's loud command that they obeyed.

  Soon after, Nengut, with the king and prince flew back to the palace courtyard to get Shadef and his priest.

  Directly over the palace courtyard, the airship hovered thirty feet above a tightly herded group of over fifty surrounded by soldiers. Nengut was disturbed to see women and children among the priests on the screen. One held a baby in her arms. She asked the king, “Why are you herding Shadeh and the priests with their families as well?”

  The question staggered the king. It was a normal thing to do! He explained, “An offense made by any member of a family towards their king must be paid for by him and his immediate family.”

  Nengut did not understand the logic. She stayed silent and with her pointing finger, encircled the group on the console's monitor then touched a couple of screen icons.

  On the ground, soldiers watched in disbelief as a beam of light from the airship’s underbelly engulfed and levitated the temple priests and their family. The airship headed back to the pyramid ship.

  The Hearing and Judgment

  The airship de-levitated Shadeh and his terrified group on the floor corralled by a light-blue barrier. It then floated sideways and landed nearby.

  Amo Obib smiled at the group to ease their fright. Nengut did not tell him much except where the airship would land; her suit stained by someone else's blood; and that he must pass judgment on the temple priests and their family. ‘How could all these people collectively commit a crime as he saw family groups huddled together with their children?’ he wondered and worried.

  When the airship door opened, Nengut rushed to Amo Obib's outstretched arms and cried on his shoulder. The blood on her hands smeared on his white outfit. He gently stroked her back as he repeated, ‘Naska is Imar, Naska is Imar,’ while she wept. After composing herself, she narrated what had happened.

  The scene touched King Arth. Nengut's compassion for a stranger and the unrehearsed reaction of Amo Obib impressed him. ‘Truly, the Rians are peaceful and caring people,’ he concluded with no reservations this time.

  The prince, unperturbed, merely looked about. He saw nothing around the lighted area where they were. The machine shop, kitchen, and dining room, at the far end, were hardly visible. Tired from his long journey and with nothing to sit on, he stood with his arms folded over his chest. Irritated, he arrogantly thought, ‘Chairs should have been provided first even only for my father and myself.’

  King Arth listened as Nengut narrated the incident to Amo Obib. He observed the two carefully. At one instant, he glanced at his son. For the first time, he realized how cold and indifferent the prince was to what had unfolded in his presences. He realized it was not the prince's fault, but his. He had brainwashed him since childhood to be indifferent and never show sympathy. To act as a future king ought to, always, even before gods. But that was long ago when his heart was filled with bitterness and hatred; long ago when his beloved wife's death was fresh in his mind; long ago when the only things he understood were acts of vengeance and ruthlessness, order and control brought by the sword's swift justice and nothing else.

  Amo Obib, after affirming with King Arth his option to pass judgment, faced the herded people who sat on the floor. He called Shadeh to stand in front of his followers. “What have you to say Shadeh?” he asked calmly and loud enough for all to hear.

  Shadeh hailed loudly, “Children of the Sun God, Ra, the almi . . .”

  “Shadeh,” Amo Obib abruptly interrupted. “I am not nor any of my people gods. Why did you torture the man and his family?”

  Confused by the statement, Shadeh replied, “The man defiled your chariot by launching his arrow at it. The torture was a sacrifice and his family an offering to you thinking that you are the children of Ra, the Almighty. My intention was good, my act, noble.”

  “Shadeh, regardless of who your gods are, hurting your brothers and sisters, is neither good nor noble. You must remember that.”

  Bewildered Shadeh asked, “How then must I please my gods if no offerings are given?”

  “Do good to your brothers and sisters. Regardless of the injustices they do to you, love them; forgive them; then offer your pains and sufferings to God. That sacrifice, God will take with open arms. And when you die, He will take you to His kingdom. Do you understand what I just said, Shadeh?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Shadeh answered meekly.

  “Then tell me, in your own words, what I have just said. My judgment will depend on your answer.”

  Shadeh began to perspire. He must use all his wits as his life may depend on his answer. He wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead with his hand, and in anxiety said, “Love everyone even if they hurt you. The Gods will take it as a sacrifice and will be pleased.”

  Amo smiled and nodded to Shadeh's relief. Then said, “Say something against the sacrificial act you did to the man and his family.”

  Shadeh started thinking again. “Sacrifices are done from within oneself. The torture was a cowardly act that will serve only to displease the gods,” he answered.

  “Does everyone understand and concur?” Amo Obib asked aloud to Shadeh's entourage.

  The answer, ‘Yes,’ resounded.

  “Never forget to love one another, help each other, and show compassion to those in need and in hardship. That is the best sacrifice and offering you can give to your gods. Since King Arth had given me the privilege to pass judgment on you, I then set all of you free. Love one another. Help one another. Do no harm to anyone anymore. Goopersh, deactivate the barrier.”

  Instantly, the light-blue barrier disappeared.

  Shadeh and his people could not believe the verdict as they looked at each other is utter disbelief. What they did meant a gruesome death to themselves and their family. One of Shadeh's priests stood and rushed forward and kissed Amo Obib's feet. Amo Obib got the priest to stand with his hands as he said, “Do not do that, my brother. It is enough that you understand and feel sorry. Just remember to love everyone and do good for them always.”

  “I swear,” the young priest said as he stood. “I will help people whenever I can to amend for the injustice I did on my part.” He took Amo Obib's hands and quickly kissed them then hastily rejoined his family.

  King Arth could not believe Amo Obib's judgment. He was not satisfied. The amo should have ordered Shadeh’s execution, even swiftly. That, he would accept. However, this was far from what he thought might happen. He had an image to protect. “The displeasure to my guest had been resolved. The displeasure to me is still to be judged,” he said.

  Amo Obib looked up at the king and said, “King Arth, in fairness, you gave your word. Are you to break it?”

  “I never break my word,” King Arth retorted as he looked down at Amo Obib. “They offended me as well. As their king, I must pass judgment too.”

  Amo Obib gave the king’s statement a quick thought then said, “I understand your position. You were separately offended. As their king, I will not deprive you of the privilege that is rightfully yours. However, before you do, remember I have passed judgment on them to live and be free. If you have them punished or worse still, killed, what was the use of my judgment then?” Amo Obib asked, looking straight at the king’s eyes.

  The king looked at Amo Obib. An expressionless face looked back at him. Amo Obib was far wiser than he thought. There was an uneasy silence as the king rubbed his hands then fiddled his beard with his fingers. He was thinking and very serious.

  Prince Otil was worried the king might give in. The king's deci
sions were always swift. The silence was unusual and disturbing. The temple priests had displeased him as well and there was only one judgment---torture then beheading. He tagged his father’s tunic then said aloud, “Cut their heads, my father. You cannot lose face in front of these worthless people. You are the king.”

  The prince's interruption broke the king's thoughts and was infuriated. His son's audacity to advise him at his age and at that particular moment enraged him. He vented his frustration by instinctively whacking hard the prince's hand that held his tunic in full view of everyone.

  Enraged, the prince looked vilely at his father then the priests and their family. He walked away and stood on a spot where his father could see him and sense his inner fury. His stance was of defiance---legs apart; arms crossed over his chest; his face, tense; and his eyes stared revoltingly in anger at his father.

  King Arth paid no attention to the prince’s stance and continued to think. He had always outguessed everyone and now he was on the spot. If he beheaded only Shadeh, his word to the Rians will have little or no meaning. Moreover, if no harsh punishment was imposed, it meant weakness and would lose face to his people, most especially his son.

  In the uneasy silence and tense moment, Prince Otil shouted in anger, “You are the king of West Nile. There is only one thing a king can do. Cut their heads. Otherwise, you are no king.” His voice resounded from the walls of the huge cavern of the ship.

  King Arth looked at the prince and saw him stand with his hands on his hip; his feet partly spread. He had taught him well. Maybe, too well but he must know who is king, and, turning to Shadeh and his followers, said, “I have made my decision. From this day forth, you are to leave my kingdom and never return. On the day I see your face again, you will surely die.” His voice quivered on every word. His fist clenched tightly. He was ready to judge Shadeh's death and let the rest go free. The king would have gambled the consequences if only the prince had not intervened.

  The prince, on hearing the king's judgment, ran outside.

  The king stood still as he watched his son ran. Within, he wanted to run after his beloved son and explain. He cannot---he is the king.

  Amo Obib, though pleased with the king's verdict, felt the hurt and agony in the king's heart, more so, to see his son run away. He said to the flabbergasted group, “Your king has spoken. On the day he sees you again, I will look the other way. When that time comes, I pray he will find good reasons to spare your life.” He realized the situation was fragile and must get the priest and their family out of the kingdom. He turned to Nengut and said, “Nengut, please take them back to get their personal belongings and bring them to wherever they choose to go.” He then turned to the king, “Will that be alright with you?” he asked looking at the face of a broken man.

  In a hollow lifeless low voice, the king replied, “That will be alright.” In the king's mind was his son.

  Nengut knew what Amo Obib meant and wanted. She ran to the airship and took off with Shadeh and his people.

  On the grassland, outside, walking towards the citadel at the distance, the prince was furious, heart filled with hate and anger. He felt stripped of his honor, insulted in front of their subjects, shamed by his father. On hearing a soft humming sound, he turned to look. It was the airship. It passed overhead with the priests and their family levitated under its belly. He had time to right the wrong his father had done, he thought. He will kill all of them himself. He ran as fast as he could but it was three miles and when he got there, the airship had just left. Exhausted, the prince mustered strength to vent his anger. He wrecked the temple. He destroyed everything he saw with whatever he could hold or throw. At the end, he set the temple on fire and stayed outside to watch it burn as he vowed, “They will all pay for their insolence and the dishonor they have done me.” The prince and those loyal to him left the citadel that evening for the southmost city of the king's domain called Tugbok.

  Argument Over Justice

  The king, with no appetite for dinner, requested they discuss the arrangements first. Amo Obib did not object and they walked toward the conference room at the further end.

  Disturbed, the king said, “You should have at least beheaded Shadeh.”

  “What good will that do?” Amo Obib calmly asked.

  Irritated by the reply, he strongly answered, “Justice to the family he tortured. Isn't that obvious?”

  Amo Obib remained silent. He remembered Nengut's Lion-Monkey analogy. She was right--- both saw the same thing yet each saw it differently. “I have never thought of it the way you see it,” he confessed. “Rians look at justice in a different way. You base your justice on equality. If someone cuts a man's arm regardless of reason, justice was served by cutting the offender's arm. A balance was maintained, both men will have an arm missing.”

  “Is there any other?” the king sarcastically asked in annoyance.

  “The justice of reason,” Amo Obib responded calmly.

  “Are you telling me justice can be served in two ways for the same offense?” the king blared.

  “Only one,” Amo Obib replied calmly again.

  King Arth pondered on Amo Obib's answer but did not understand. He was troubled. He needed an answer, an explanation, and pursued, “Death for death.”

  “Forgiveness for death,” Amo Obib answered.

  “Hate for hate.”

  “Love for hate.”

  “If someone beats me with a stick, I will take the stick from him and beat him to death,” the king said as he appreciated the mental exercise and added, “What will you do?”

  Amo Obib thought for a moment then answered, “I will reason out.”

  “And, if he does not listen?”

  “He still has the stick to beat me,” the amo said seriously.

  The king looked at Amo Obib. He sensed the amo was not joking. He grappled to understand the wisdom to what seemed foolish and illogical way to think and react. In dilemma, continued, “There is no equality in love for hate.”

  “You are right.”

  “How can there be justice then? Your justice makes no sense. It's imbalanced and weak,” the king scuffed then smirked.

  “It is imbalance, if you equate justice as a balance between love and hate. Love outweighs hate a thousand-fold. True justice must serve the good interest of the people and not a few. It does not look at the crime and make judgment but the goodness the judgment brings about to all. Killing begets hate and hate begets hate. Isn't that true?”

  “Yes,” the king answered and started thinking of a real example. “King Silrab's grandfather killed my father and his son caused my wife's death. He and his family must pay for their death otherwise there will be no justice.”

  “How was justice served if in the end everyone killed everyone?”

  “Are you saying to leave my loved ones' death unpaid?” King Arth asked, annoyed for failing to understand the point.

  “It may save your life, your son's life, and his children, and his children's children. Otherwise, when will it stop? Justice is best served when the injustice is stopped.”

  The king mentally struggled to see things at a different perspective. He was uneasy with what he grasped and uncomfortable with the little he understood. “Justice was never served on my wife's death,” he pursued.

  “Justice is abstract. It cannot relate to tangible things though tangible things, at times, solves it. I will answer your question by asking you this: Would you rather your death be remembered as one that spawned peace and happiness or the one that spawned death and despair to so many innocent people?”

  The king hesitated then admitted, “To have spawned peace and happiness.”

  “Then justice was best served by forgiving the men who killed your father and your wife, and make peace with them. Their death . . . your father and wife, would serve a better and higher purpose. And like you, your father and your wife would have wanted it that way if they knew what was at stake.”

  King Arth was disturbed,
“What if one of the men I exiled came back? How should I serve justice?”

  “Disobedience to a judgment when done willfully will be served by the penalty determined at the time of judgment. In this case, your judgment was death.”

  “You'll kill him then if you were in my shoes?” The king asked hoping to corner Amo Obib and have an upper hand on a serious argument. Winning the discussion meant so much to him, to his pride.

  “I would not impose such a penalty in the first place. However, if you empower me to judge in your behalf, I will listen to his reasons and reserve my decision based on that. But death will never be an option.”

  “Then you will go against my judgment,” the king said, hoping to resolve the argument in his favor.

  “No. I will right it to do you justice,” Amo Obib said bluntly.

  The king was dumbfounded. In limbo said, “But justice must elicit fear to maintain peace. Fear is what maintains order, and justice must perpetuate fear. Fear begets obedience to the law!” the king contended with conviction.

  “Justice through fear offers no solution and the peace it brings is an illusion. And fear begets not obedience but disorder and rebellion.”

  “My kingdom is safe because they fear my justice,” the king scuffed. This time he was certain Amo Obib was wrong and elated to think that he had won the argument and boldly added, “Take fear out, and my enemies will be at my palace gate to topple me.”

  “Replace fear with love and compassion, and they will come to raise and proclaim you their king.”

  The king was flabbergasted. His elation quickly replaced by another disturbing question, “Are you telling me to replace fear with love?”

  “Yes. That is the only thing that will offer you real peace that will last for generations.”

  King Arth pondered for a moment. “Disturbingly, I understand your justice and see its wisdom but it will not work in this world. Fear is the key to peace,” he said, somehow saddened by his conclusion.

  “Fear will only serve to destroy your world. Love is the key,” Amo Obib stressed and noticed the king walked slower as they neared the conference room and adjusted to the king's pace. He knew the king was thinking and might want to talk more but enough was said to draw a good conclusion. “Love one another, that is where true peace lie,” he ended.

  King Arth looked at Amo Obib but said nothing as the words 'Love one another' resounded in his mind. Much as he wanted the love and respect from the people he ruled, he only found an invisible and seemingly impregnable wall that separated him from them. He had become alone and lonely purely from the wall of fear he had imprisoned himself. This was not what he dreamed when he envisioned his kingdom as a young man daydreaming. It was more of what he felt during his dinner with the Rians . . . a lively community of free people. ‘Are love, compassion, righteous judgment, and equality for all what my realm lacks? Is that what I was unconsciously searching after I acquired my kingdom?’ the questions flashed through his mind. “We have covered a lot in our short talk,” the king said sounding rueful. “It is strange for I see your point but not as clearly as I want. You are brave to tell me I was wrong in my judgments and contradicted me on my beliefs. You may have gambled your life by being too frank and downright blunt.”

  “You would be a fool if you have me killed when the contradiction happens to be for your own good,” Amo Obib replied innocently and puzzled at what the king really meant.

  King Arth did not answer. He had men killed for lesser reasons and surely for referring the word 'fool' to him. He ended the discussion saying, “I placed cockroaches under the noon sun. They did die.”

  The Arrangement

  King Arth changed his mind and had dinner with the Rians before the meeting. This time, he insisted that he be treated not as a king or a guest but like a Rian and with them got his food from the kitchen counter; placed them on his food tray; and brought it to the table like everyone else.

  The king enjoyed the food and savored every bit of it, more so, the lively and informal interaction that ensued. They laughed and joked at each other over their first-time experience with the king and the king with them. Of the funny incidents played seriously the day before but funny to recall and reenact. The king played his part and brought boisterous laughter as well. He felt so glad he opted to be like them, of being himself. He never felt this happy and gratified for what he decided on and what resulted out of it. At one moment, between laughing lulls, he observed how happy the Rians were and recalled the last time he felt this good and remembered one memorable event in the past, long ago. He recalled the great fun he had with his best friends, Mismar, Suba, and Odi. They were young teenagers on a supposedly one day adventure that lasted for five days in the wild. They were care-free young men with no hierarchical distinction from each other. The great fun that came out of it---swam in the river, hunted small games for food, and the told stories and jokes that continued all day and even lulled them to sleep late in the night. Though he was their acknowledged leader of his friends, he never exercised that prerogative. He acted as an arbiter; he went with the decision of the group; he acted for their good. He was a leader!

  At one point, he asked himself, ‘What is the difference? Why are Rians so happy?’ and came to this conclusion: They were all free, equal, and united for a common good. After dinner, he extended his dinner invitation to everyone at his palace. However, the Rians had to decline. They only have four radiation protective suits and Amo Obib and Ningning's vow confined them to the ship.

  After cleaning the dining room and kitchen, everyone went to the conference room. The king, Amo Obib, Commander Nerus, Nengut, and Ningning sat around a round table with a three-inch-high pyramid crystal at the middle. The rest of the Rians were on one side seated.

  Amo Obib who noticed the king staring at the crystal said, “That is a recorder among other things. It will store everything we do and speak. In so doing, history, both yours and mine, will have this momentous event recorded. Shall we start?”

  “Please do,” the king replied.

  “Goopersh, record the event.”

  “Recording,” Goopersh, responded.