The Sixteen Galaxies

by William Drayman

  John sat and contemplated things. Then he turned a grave face to Kestil. “Why are you teaching me this stuff? What do you want from me?”

  Kestil shrugged. “Your help. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I may not be that smart, but I’m smart enough to know that you don’t need a guy like me. I’m just a monkey, good to do the heavy lifting. Why do you spend all this time trying to make me smarter?”

  Kestil laughed. “John, you have no idea of your true value, do you?”

  “I’m a hitman, a thug, a heavy. An armed henchman, that kid called me.”

  “Not at all, John, not at all. I was drawn to you because, when humanity joins the Independent Worlds, we will need a military leader to command them. I want you to be that leader.”

  John gave a short bark of laughter. “Me? I hope you’re not serious. What the hell do I know about leadership? I finished my service as a corporal; too dumb to get any higher.”

  “Your military establishment has its faults too, John. I studied thousands of people around the world, determined to find someone with your talent. You are a born leader, a man who draws other men to him; who earns their respect and directs them by the strength of his personality alone.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Earth’s military leaders today aren’t real leaders, John; not like those of times past. They’re politicians, policy followers, and no more. They’re not like you. You are decisive and lack any real fear of the unknown. You do lack some education, but that’s all. Battle tactics can be learned. As can military history, weapon technology and every other skill a military commander needs. But, not leadership. Either a man has it, or he doesn’t.”

  John got up and walked to the nearest viewport of the warship. The ship’s cloak mechanism meant the view was a little hazy, but he could still see the outline of the continental United States. He was thrilled at the idea of commanding troops in battle, of course. But, deep down inside, he had a suspicion of Kestil that gnawed at him. The guy was devious, and way too smart. So much smarter than him it was laughable. John had been manipulated by clever people before, and he hadn’t enjoyed it.

  11

  Nuthros walked out of a corridor and into the viewport area of his ship. Hiram Sertan stood at the viewport, lost in contemplation of his home planet.

  “Excuse me, Hiram, there is someone here who wishes to speak with you.” Hiram recognized the figure who followed Nuthros to the viewport. It was the older man from the council hall; Asdrin. “Hello Hiram,” Asdrin said, “It’s good to see you again.”

  Hiram shook the old man’s hand and was surprised by the strength of the grip. Then he realized that this would be a hologram. Nuthros bowed and took his leave.

  Asdrin gestured to the planet in front of them. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it? The most precious planet in the universe. You are very lucky to be a part of this generation, Hiram.”

  “Lucky?” Hiram wondered briefly if Asdrin were having him on. “How so? I mean, please pardon the contradiction, Asdrin, but all things considered, I don’t feel very lucky.”

  The old man smiled and peered at Hiram closely. There was an intensity in his eyes that was impossible to miss. “You should, young man, you really should. You know, your future is not what you think it might be. The same is true for your companions here who have virtually lost their lives on Earth. I am curious about you, though. It interests me that, of all the Earth people on this ship, you are the only one who never contacts anyone on the planet. Why is that?”

  Hiram turned back to the view outside. “Because I have no-one to contact. My wife left me five years ago. I was never there for her. Always away somewhere for work. When the money started to dry up, she found someone else. She’s still a very beautiful woman.”

  “No children, then?”

  Hiram shook his head.

  Asdrin stood and stared at the Earth for a while, before turning to Hiram again. “Do you know why I have let myself age, Hiram?” The old man smiled at Hiram’s expression. “Yes, I thought you might be curious. I am no closer to death than any other citizen of the Sixteen Galaxies, not at all. I merely turned the cellular degradation of my body back on, about 2,000 cycles ago. I let myself reach this physical point and turned it back off. It’s actually far more complicated than that, of course, but you get the idea, I’m sure. So, why did I do it?”

  “I haven’t got the faintest idea, Asdrin. I’m damned if I would.”

  “You would be surprised how big a part perception plays, Hiram, even in our ancient society. People in the Sixteen Galaxies hold me in higher regard, because I look like this. Funny, isn’t it? All our millennia of learning, development, advances in technology, and we still look to our elders for guidance.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Nobody really needs guidance in our society, Hiram. They’re all intelligent enough to cope with whatever life may throw at them, in the usual way. That’s why Nuthros told you we have no government. In reality, we don’t. Councils exist to provide oversight of various activities within the Sixteen Galaxies. It’s all voluntary, naturally. Well, to be honest, as there is no currency or trade, I guess everything is voluntary. The councils were established to mitigate the workload on some and focus attention where needed. When it comes to laws and principles, though, the entire society will discuss the issue and work out a resolution for it. Naturally, this takes many cycles. But when you have eternity in front of you, time is of little consequence.”

  Hiram felt himself envious of this incredible society’s approach to life. It was all so relaxed, in comparison to the pressure cooker of human government and political cycles.

  “Our council,” Asdrin continued, “Was founded to provide organization for the integration of emergent worlds. The new additions need guidance for a few millennia, so we take care of that. Ship AI care for many things, as well.”

  “There’s an irony in there for us,” Hiram observed. “Our entertainment industry nearly always portrays both aliens and AI as a threat. I grew up with a hostile suspicion of computers, and aliens were the stuff of nightmares. I must confess, when Nuthros arrived and took me to his ship, those prejudices were hard to extinguish.”

  Asdrin gave Hiram a cheeky grin, “I’m glad we decided against wearing green suits, then.” His face grew sombre. “When all this mess with Kestil began, we suddenly needed guidance ourselves; someone to take the lead. It’s not really what the council is for, obviously. But, we were the only body who exercised any leadership per se in regard to matters outside our society. So, we took it upon ourselves to take the reins for a bit.”

  He laughed, but without humour. “The very thing Kestil always craved, he has now caused us to become.”

  Hiram took an involuntary step back as the old man drew closer. “What do you know about prophecy, Hiram, hmm?”

  “Prophecy? Hiram asked. “You mean the foretelling of future events in general, or some specific prophecy?”

  “In general.” The old man replied.

  Hiram shrugged. “I don’t believe in it, to be honest. I think it’s mostly lucky guesses.”

  “Aha!” Asdrin did a little dance on the spot. “Guesses, he says. I knew it!”

  Hiram wondered if some senility crept in before Asdrin turned the aging process back off. Asdrin held up both hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I get carried away sometimes. Now, prophecy. The reason I was so happy with your answer is that you’re closer to the truth than you may realize, young man. Now, imagine for a moment that there is a youth who drives one of these vehicles of yours.”

  “Cars?” Hiram ventured.

  “Indeed, just so. This young man gets in his car every day, at roughly the same time, and races off down the street, way too fast. If you watched him do that, day in, day out, what conclusion would you reach?”

  “Well, I’d probably say that, one day, he’s going to either kill himself or someone else.”

  “And what if he died in a car accident a week later, hmm?”


  “I would think that I had a lucky guess?”

  “No, no! Not a lucky guess, but an informed one. Is that not so? You saw him drive like a maniac for days on end, and you concluded that one day he’d have a wreck and possibly die. In those circumstances, you would have uttered a prophecy. Because that is what prophecy is, the extrapolation of future events based on knowledge.”

  Hiram stared at Asdrin with a blank expression; he had no clue where this was going.

  “The reason I ask about this is that when Kestil revealed that warship of his to us over 4 millennia ago, I uttered a prophecy, of a sort. I said that, one day, someone would start a war with us. Of course, I didn’t think it would be Kestil. I was under the same impression everyone else was; that Kestil died along with that infernal machine of his. But I knew, even then, that sooner or later some rebel would rise against us.”

  “I bet you wish you were wrong.” Hiram replied.

  “Well, yes and no, really. I think this has to happen, Hiram. I hate the very thought of it, but opposition must come. The entire sentient universe needs to be reminded how bad warfare is. It has been too long, and people have become complacent. They’ve forgotten how things were, back in the days before the planets started to unite.”

  “How easily we all forget.” Hiram said.

  “We need your help, Hiram,” Asdrin said. “It is not the usual way of things to ask this. Indeed, your planet is thousands of its years away from integration, but Kestil has forced our hand.”

  Hiram stared at the old man. “Why would you need my help? What can I possibly offer the council that it doesn’t already possess?”

  Asdrin gave him a long look. He shrugged. “Well, maybe you’re right. I can understand why you would feel that way. Let’s leave that for another time.” He stood in silent contemplation of the planet far away for a couple of minutes. “Tell me, Hiram,” Asdrin finally said, “I’m curious. What is war like?”

  The question stopped Hiram short. He hadn’t thought about that in a very long time. But he knew what war was like, only too well. “When I was young,” he said, “I was a war correspondent. In Vietnam, from 1970 right through to 1975. My job saw me in a chopper more than I was on the ground.” He stared at the Earth, but he didn’t see it. The sights, sounds and smells of that time flooded back. “I was there to write the good stuff; keep the patriotic spirit alive. I had to portray the sacrifices, the guts and the glory of our young men, for their families back home.” He shrugged. “I did my job, Asdrin. I wrote pure fiction; a huge mountain of lies.” He kicked at the floor with a foot. “There was no guts, and there was no glory. Just a bunch of scared young men, keeping their fear at bay with booze, dope and childish bravado.”

  Hiram’s voice dropped to a whisper as his own personal nightmare came back, once again. “I was on a patrol once, the area had been cleared and the guys I was with were doing a final sweep. Just inside the village, there was a little Vietnamese girl, about 8 years old. She was sitting at the foot of a tree. When the point guy got to her, he saw she was hurt. She had a severe trauma to her right foot. The medic and one of the other guys picked her up to take her into a hut and fix her up.”

  Hiram choked up for a second; he’d not told anyone about this for years. “She was wired up, Asdrin. The Vietcong had taken her, smashed her foot, and then wired her up to a bomb buried underneath her. I was at the back, and was unhurt. The girl, the medic and two others died instantly, while three received major injuries.”

  Asdrin recoiled from the look Hiram gave him. “How the hell was I supposed to write that up, Asdrin? The top brass wanted me to, that’s for sure. Show the world just how evil these commie bastards were. But I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t that simple, how could it be? Here was a people so desperate to get rid of us they’d sacrifice their own kids to get the job done.”

  He spread his hands wide. “I had to make sense of something that made no sense. I didn’t know why we were there, and the troops didn’t know why we were there. It was only when I went into politics back home that I saw war for what it really is.”

  Asdrin held his silence.

  Hiram turned to the old man. “War is as bad as humanity can get, Asdrin. It’s the pointless sacrifice of lives to compensate for a lack of good leadership on both sides. It’s a failure of diplomacy at the highest level. On the other hand, war has become a means by which the very worst of humanity profit financially. It swallows hundreds of billions of dollars of global expenditure every year. That money could save millions of lives, instead of which, it’s spent on taking them. Hell, it’s gotten to the point where we know a war has been instigated for profit, and we go and fight it anyway.” He realized he was breathing hard. “Sorry, I haven’t talked about this in a very long time.”

  “Now,” Asdrin said. “You wanted to know why we need your help. Are you sure you don’t know the answer to that question?”

  Hiram took a step back. Crafty old devil, he thought. He smiled. “Touché.”

  Asdrin bowed gently. Then he put a hand on Hiram’s shoulder. “We would like you to join the council, Hiram. As the representative for Earth.”

  Hiram stood and stared at Asdrin. Here I thought US ambassador to the Sixteen Galaxies was something, he thought.

  “Well?” Asdrin asked. “What do you say?”

  Hiram scratched the back of his head. “How could I refuse? I accept, of course.”

  “Excellent!” Asdrin clapped his hands together. “Now, I can reveal to you the full extent of what you have agreed to.”

  *****

  President Michael Maitland stood behind a rostrum on a temporary stage at a small but heavily secured building site outside Washington. The Secret Service was livid that he insisted on this public appearance, but he knew he was in no danger. A large group of media people were arranged in front of the podium, while a group of workmen stood off to one side. Maitland reached over and drew back a velvet curtain to reveal a small plaque on the corner block of the building’s foundation. He waited for the applause to subside. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to be here to commemorate the laying of this historic foundation. Up until recently, the Earth faced a bleak future. We were told we must turn our society upside down, or face imminent catastrophe. With the commencement of this project, we are declaring to the world, indeed, to the universe, that we can, and will, overcome our past mistakes and make things right. This power installation, which will be completed in just 12 months, will house the very first Vincent Generator. To explain the wonders of this creation, I would now like to hand over to Donald Vincent, CEO of Vincent technologies, and co-inventor of the Vincent Generator.”

  Donald Vincent strode to the podium and shook the president’s hand. “Thank you, Mr President. Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, today marks the start of a new era for mankind. Our past ways of providing power for ourselves and our families have taken their toll on our planet. That all ends one year from now, when this generator station goes online. The facility to be built here will power the entire city of Washington for a year, on this amount of fuel.” He pointed to a nearby model of a cube, approximately one cubic meter in size. “The fuel is a synthetic that we developed, which can be produced at a relatively low cost. There are no exhaust fumes, there are no cooling stacks. Just pure, clean energy, with a yearly output of waste this big.” He pulled a baseball out of his jacket pocket and held it up to the cameras. He held it still while the cameras worked overtime to capture the historic image.

  “This waste,” he continued, “Is processed into a solid which is completely harmless to the environment. There is no toxic waste, so no waste storage problem. Added to that, there is no air pollution. The Vincent Generator is 100% clean energy generation.”

  He waited for the applause to subside. “I am also proud to announce the signing today of a contract with the United States government to replace all existing power supply facilities in the United States with Vincent Generators within the space of ten y
ears.”

  He waited for that to sink in. “I would ask that you all remember why we are doing this. Our planet is in trouble, and it needs help, quickly. Those people who think they will be out of work, think again. My company needs workers, lots of them. As jobs at the existing power stations wind down, we will take you on. We will retrain you as necessary. All the old infrastructure remains in place; only the power stations themselves will be decommissioned. Vincent Technologies stands shoulder to shoulder with the United States government, ready to make this dream a reality. I would like to express my sincere thanks to President Maitland, who has moved literal political mountains to make this project possible. He is a man of singular vision and imagination, devoted to saving our planet. The world needs more men like him.”

  Maitland smiled and nodded his thanks; the next elections looked to be a shoe-in.

  “This is only the start,” Vincent continued. “Our R&D department is working around the clock to bring more clean energy systems to the table. Our representatives are all over the world, working tirelessly to take this technology to the whole planet. We will not rest until our home is back on track, and a safe environment for generations to come.”

  Donald Vincent turned to the workers assembled to one side. “What do you say, boys? Let’s get to work!”

  *****

  Nuthros sighed in exasperation. “Merkinias? He’s gone and given them Merkinias?”

  “What the hell is Merkinias?” Hiram asked.

  “Your people call it Roentgenium,” Truly said. “They have no real knowledge of it; it does not occur anywhere in Alpha galaxy. It has the atomic number of 111 and is highly radioactive. Processed properly, though, it becomes a very powerful, but stable, fuel.”

  “These power stations will work, then, won’t they?”