Nuthros continued, “For every situation, there may be more than one solution. But, there is one best solution for most things. To find that solution efficiently, we must conduct an exchange of ideas devoid of emotional content; any hint of prejudice, and a complete lack of pride. I guess you could call it brainstorming, but without the storm. Further, the matter can only be considered resolved when all council members present can agree completely.”
Hiram had laughed at that. “I don’t think the UN could put that in play; it would take them a year to agree on the colour of the seats.”
Indeed, as the meeting progressed, it became more and more obvious that this was unlike anything Hiram had ever experienced. The council itself was 20 members strong, yet no order of speaker was in place; people just waited until there was a pause and stood to indicate they had a comment. There was also a pause for reflection after any speaker finished. Hiram was reminded of the Native American tradition of a period of silence after anyone spoke; to ensure the speaker had finished, and to allow those present to ponder what had been said and gather their thoughts.
There was one man who sat in the centre of the crescent of seats, who stood out like a sore thumb. Whereas every other council member looked around thirty years old, this man had grey hair, along with all the other physical features of a man in his sixties. This older man remained silent, but watched each speaker with an intent expression.
After a brief welcome to Hiram, Brantok opened the discussion with the murder of the president. “We must not leave it to mankind to prosecute this crime. They will be unable to call Kestil to account. Indeed, they have no idea of his existence. The problem is, we have not had to prosecute any form of crime in over 4,500 years. If we can even capture and hold Kestil, that is. I believe we can safely assume Kestil has an armada of ships and troops at his disposal, while we have nothing at all. Any dissent with this analysis?
There was a lengthy silence. Another member got to his feet. Nuthros, sitting next to Hiram, whispered, “Kenter, from Sestern III, an oceanic planet with island communities.”
“I think we must remember our bond with a peaceful way of life; we cannot prosecute Kestil without violating our peaceful philosophy. The last time we did that was over 4 millennia ago, when we destroyed Kestil’s ship. That situation was unambiguous - a clear violation of our proscription of any weapon of war within our territory. While Alpha galaxy is within our territory, the planet Earth is yet to be integrated and remains under the jurisdiction of humanity. I would therefore suggest that, instead of any attempt to prosecute Kestil ourselves, we provide the technology for mankind to deal with Kestil directly. The only issue is our complicity in how mankind decides to punish Kestil.” Kenter resumed his seat.
All eyes turned to Hiram. Okay, he thought, my turn, then. He rose to his feet. “Mankind’s governments would be only too willing, I am sure, to accept any and all technology available to use in Kestil’s capture and containment. Unfortunately, to facilitate that it would be necessary to prove Kestil’s guilt, or even complicity, in this crime. Under our current judicial system, that would take years to establish. Before we can even reach that point, though, we have the problem that Kestil is an unknown entity to any of mankind save a small number of his allies, like the man who killed the president, and to some friends of ours that he also attempted to kill. These people are not viable witnesses, as they are currently under Nuthros’ protection AND were attempting to disseminate stolen US government security files.” He looked around at the men and women before him. Nobody seemed to disagree. He resumed his seat.
A female member rose. “Baelet, from Prentersea, a planet not unlike Earth.” murmured Nuthros.
Baelet smiled at Hiram. “Thank you for such a frank assessment, Hiram. It seems to me that we can now see our priorities for action; first, it is clear we must help Hiram to prove that Kestil exists, and that he is hostile to Earth and the Sixteen Galaxies. Nuthros, what say you to that?”
Nuthros nodded and stood. “I have enlisted the help of a young female media spokesperson from Earth, one Mandy Somers, to facilitate this.”
“Why this choice, Nuthros?” Baelet inquired.
“She is, first and foremost, sincere and diligent in the prosecution of her duties. Mandy also has popularity among the masses on her planet, and she seemed the most likely journalist I could find to obtain success with my original plans. I believe she is still our best hope if we are to restore trust between mankind and ourselves. Any dissent?” A long silence followed.
Finally a younger man got to his feet. “Pthent, from Turoth VII, an arid planet.” Came the prompt from Nuthros.
“I would like to direct the discussion towards a possible second priority; our future relationship with this ‘Independent Worlds’ society Kestil claims to be a part of.” He paused, but no-one spoke up. “Kestil has made it clear that they had militaristic intentions in the establishment of the Independent Worlds. I believe his words to Nuthros were that they would ‘Rule the universe one day’?”
Nuthros confirmed this with a nod.
“While we would never prepare for war unless it was unavoidable, would it not be wise to at least send micro-probes out to search for their planets? From the data Nuthros obtained on Kestil’s original warship, it is clear this society is built on technology either copied or stolen from the Sixteen Galaxies. The device Kestil used to try to capture Nuthros on Earth reminds me of the system we use to catch creatures on new planets for analysis. After we have established the Independent World’s approximate size, we may gain valuable data on how they have come by this technology.” He resumed his seat. There was a long silence as everyone present pondered the full implications of what Pthent had said.
Brantok rose. “Pthent has brought up an interesting proposal, but a dangerous one, too. The possibility of agents from the Independent Worlds among our population needs to be investigated thoroughly, but with much delicacy. Any sowing of mistrust could undermine our societal harmony; something we must do our utmost to avoid. Should we detect any such people, they must be removed and expelled from the Sixteen Galaxies quietly and at once.”
Nuthros indicated the older man as he rose to his feet. “Asdrin; he’s the founder of the council.” Hiram puzzled at this elderly gentleman; no one else he had met so far looked any older than thirty. He determined to bring it up later with Nuthros, but let it pass for now.
“We must discuss this matter much further, but time has gotten away from us today. I would encourage all present to meditate carefully on what we have shared.” He turned to Hiram. “Have you anything to add, Hiram?”
Hiram rose and bowed to the elderly statesman. Briefly, he wondered how old this guy really was. “I would like to thank you all for the honour of being here today. It has been very educational to see how a council of decision makers can function. I fear none of you would enjoy it if I returned the favour and invited you to a UN meeting.” There was a scatter of laughter at that. “I would like to ask that you please not give up on mankind. We are far from where you need us to be, but many of us would die trying to help you win this battle.”
“Young man,” Asdrin said, “You speak well. I am afraid, though, that we must consider the current situation as but a small part of a much more sinister, and much larger, whole. You speak of a battle, Hiram, but I fear much worse. I foresee a war.”
*****
Mandy Somers appeared in the studio, dressed in a smart business outfit. Truly had spent a good few hours with Mandy, in preparation for this interview. She was a little disoriented; it felt for all the world like she was in the TV studio, but in the back of her mind she knew the real Mandy Somers lay on an inversion plate in Nuthros’ ship.
Becky Carver showed her to her seat. Becky was a little stand-offish, but her manner was gentle in comparison to the outright hostility the floor crew displayed. On the way to her seat, two different camera crew shouldered Mandy aside with a gruff apology. The boom operator nearly tripped he
r with a cable which she managed to avoid. Mandy decided the situation needed to be dealt with. After she took her seat and the 5 minute call was given, she stood back up. “Okay, listen up everyone.”
Darryl got to his feet, but Mandy was in no mood for him. “Sit down Darryl, and hear me out. I know you all think Nuthros had the president killed. Well, the truth is, you’re wrong and he didn’t. I know for a fact he wasn’t involved and I will prove it tonight. You may think you know what’s going on, but I can tell you all right here and now; you wouldn’t have a freaking clue. So drop the aggro crap and act like the professionals you’re supposed to be, or you will pay a price far higher than anything you could imagine.
The last bit was a bluff, of course. But by the looks the studio crew gave each other, Mandy knew she had put the wind up them.
On the ship, Nuthros looked at Jack Short. “Is she always that forthright?”
Jack grinned at him. “Nah, sometimes she gets really annoyed.”
The show started and Becky introduced Mandy. They ran through the background details up to the point of the presidential assassination. Then they cut to a commercial break. Mandy explained to the now subdued crew that she would display some hologram pictures of people, but assured them that they were merely images.
The show was cued back in, and Becky asked Mandy; “So, Mandy what do you have in the way of evidence that Nuthros is innocent of involvement in the assassination of President Dexter?”
“Well Becky,” Mandy replied, “First let’s share the identity of the actual gunman.” She gestured to the floor between them and a man appeared, frozen in the act of firing a pistol. The image slowly revolved.
Becky couldn’t help but reach out to touch the frozen image of John Crabtree. Her hand passed through it. “He looks so real,” she commented.
Mandy laughed. “If he was, you and I would both be in a lot of trouble. No, this is a 3D hologram of the assassin that shot President Dexter, rendered from television footage at the scene of the crime. This man is John Crabtree, a retired US serviceman, and a known anti-environmental lobby activist. This is the man that US law enforcement need to look for, and a very dangerous man he is. The VTR operator should have some footage cued up for him, if he takes a look.”
The video operator stared in bemusement at his monitor for a few seconds, before Darryl called for him to run the footage. The footage was Kestil and John’s attempt to kill David Markham on the jetty.
The footage froze with a close-up of Kestil and John together, right at the moment John’s gun was firing. The bullet had just left the barrel and the picture was crystal clear.
“The man in the suit is called Kestil,” Mandy said. “Another alien.”
Becky gasped. “Another alien?”
Mandy managed not to roll her eyes at Becky’s overdone reaction. “Yes, but Kestil is not from the Sixteen Galaxies. And he obviously does not share their peaceful philosophy, either.” Mandy gestured at the image of John, and it was replaced with a frozen image of Kestil.
“Wow,” Becky said, “That’s even realer.”
Good grief, Mandy thought, if you ever needed proof of the existence of a casting couch… “That image,” she replied, “Was captured on Nuthros’ equipment, so it’s naturally at a better resolution.”
“Hang on, though,” Becky said, “If this is all you have, and it’s all on Nuthros’ equipment, how do we know it’s real? I mean, with his tech, he could make anything look real, couldn’t he?”
She didn’t think that one up herself, Mandy thought. Darryl’s coached her. Time to reveal the clincher. “Indeed he could, Becky. However, when he covered his tracks, Kestil missed one vital piece of evidence that we managed to obtain. We have already passed on this footage to the authorities. Naturally, there is a copy safely out of reach on Nuthros’ ship. The footage should be cued.”
The VTR operator sighed and clicked the play button before Darryl could even tell him to.
“This footage,” Mandy explained, “Was captured by a security camera at the Black Hog Bar and Grill in Oklahoma State. Unfortunately, there is no sound. Here we see John Crabtree address a group of men, and then…” Kestil transported into the bar. “Kestil appears. We see their first few exchanges weren’t that pleasant…” John pulled out his pistol and shot Kestil. “And we see just how violent John is. We also see how helpless we are in the face of these aliens with their technology. Notice Kestil doesn’t even take a step backwards when John shoots him. Now we see the two men sit down together. You can see from the timestamp that this incident took place the day after Nuthros appeared at the UN headquarters. All the men in that footage, except Kestil and John Crabtree, are currently in custody. I am told that they have confirmed the scene is genuine.”
Becky cut to a commercial break. “If you don’t mind,” Becky said, “We’ll get you to outline what this Kestil alien is all about, and ask you why you think he had the president killed. Then we’ll wrap it up with a discussion on why you think Earth should stick with the Sixteen Galaxies.”
Mandy nodded. “Sure, I’m happy with that.”
Back on the ship, Nuthros nodded. “Mandy was a very good choice, Jack. She is very credible and persuasive, isn’t she?”
Jack sat and contemplated Mandy as she chatted with Becky. “Yeah,” he said distractedly. “She sure is.”
*****
John Crabtree scowled as he watched the show on board Kestil’s warship. “We should’ve killed that bitch the second she appeared in the studio.”
Kestil shook his head. “No, we couldn’t have done that. To do that would have revealed our presence. I am more interested in how that footage from the bar got left lying around. Did you not think to check?”
“Oh, I thought about the cameras, alright. Ted Brady, the fat clown that owns the bar, was supposed to switch them off before every meeting. Looks like the idiot forgot.”
“Well,” Kestil replied, “It’s too late now. It’s not a big deal for either of us, but it’s a shame about your compatriots, especially your brothers. I would portal them out, but I don’t want any more exposure right now.”
“The boys will be fine. What can the feds do to them? They know nothing; it’s been just you and me since that night at the bar. I still say we should have stopped this show before it started. It would have been easy enough to portal in and shoot her; job done.”
“No. Try to think more about a situation before you react, John. You have to learn to look at all the possible consequences, and consider the whole picture. Besides, as I told you, Nuthros has the upper hand technology wise. He would have some kind of protection ready. If that really is her, anyway. It’s probably another solidified light hologram like the one he used on me in the park.”
Crabtree shrugged. “Well, things are pretty screwed up for us now.”
“On the contrary,” Kestil replied, “Things are fine, John. You really don’t understand your own race very well, do you? So Nuthros and his pets have proven I exist. So what? That doesn’t mean I have to show myself.”
Crabtree frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Okay,” Kestil said. “Let’s look at this from outside the box. If I don’t appear within a week or so, how much press will I rate? Nuthros’ appearance at the UN headquarters shocked the world, and rightly so. Yet, the idea of aliens among you is already old news. Look at any outrage the Earth has suffered in the last ten years. How many of those events are even mentioned now?”
“I guess people have a pretty short attention span.”
“Indeed they do, John. Human history is full of horrific atrocities, yet the significance of them fades ever quicker as time passes. The initial outrage is publicized, but the media only makes money from popular stories, and popularity is a short-lived phenomenon. Your fifty year rule on the release of classified information shows that your government understands this only too well.”
John shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”
“The majority of th
e human race are ill-educated and easily led, John. They don’t care about global issues. They just want life to go on as it is. They want to lead their little lives, chase their tiny-minded dreams, work their dreary jobs and mow their lawns on the weekend. Nuthros, for his part, promises to turn all that upside down and inside-out for them.”
John nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s right. Wants to change everything. Typical tree-hugger. Damned environmental hippy.”
“Yes, well, he happens to be right about the environment, John. He’s not as right as he thinks he is, though. Anyway, the popular form of government on your planet puts the power into the hands of those who hold the favour of the majority, does it not? And who are the majority?”
John thought about it for a moment. “The voters, the ones you said were easily led.”
“Yes, that tiny fraction that even bother to go and vote, who are largely ill-educated, and motivated by self-interest. What we will do, through Maitland as our front man, is hold out the offer of far less change. Enough to alleviate the environmental damage, but not drastic enough to rock the boat for Mr and Mrs Average Voter. We will have them on our side, along with business and industry leaders, who face the end of just about all they have under Nuthros’ regime.” He spread his hands. “Now, who will swap what they have for a future they absolutely don’t want, just for the sake of the loss of one man, even if that man was the president?”
John Crabtree looked at Kestil with newfound respect. “You’re right. All we have to do is ride out this little storm, and soon enough everyone will just want a change with as little damage as possible to the way things are.”
“Which comes,” Kestil said with more than a hint of pride in his voice, “From the Independent Worlds.” He leaned forward. “Humanity doesn’t want the truth, John. The truth is inconvenient, and uncomfortable. It forces them to accept change. What they want, and what we can provide, is comforting lies. The influence those lies give us keep the riff-raff happy and enable us to then bring about the changes required. There is a minimum of discomfort to our supporters, which keeps them firmly behind us. Expedience is the secret, John, not honesty. On your world, no-one wants honesty.”
The Sixteen Galaxies Page 11