The Sixteen Galaxies

by William Drayman

  “Oh, they’ll work alright.” Nuthros replied. “That’s not the problem. The issue is that Merkinias can be used in star-drives, Hiram. I think Kestil plans to push humanity into integration way too early. I need to speak with the council. I will arrange a full meeting for straight after your surgery on Kareetha.”

  Nuthros was at the viewport with Hiram when he heard Truly in his mind. ‘Nuthros, Brantok’s ship has arrived. It is cloaked within portal range.’

  ‘Thank you, Truly,’ Nuthros replied, ‘Please grant him the ingress point.’ He turned to Hiram. “Your ride is here, Hiram.”

  Brantok appeared next to Nuthros on the viewport deck. “Hello, my friends. I understand I am to take our newest council member to Kareetha for his surgery?”

  Hiram shook hands with Brantok, and Nuthros gave his fellow councillor a warm embrace. “I shall attend a meeting there directly after Hiram is ready, Brantok. As a hologram, of course.”

  “Yes,” Brantok replied, “I thought you might. Merkinias, of all things. Your brother has outdone himself this time around. What is he up to, I wonder?”

  Nuthros shrugged. “I wish I knew, my friend.”

  “Well,” Brantok said, “I expect we shall find out, in due course.”

  *****

  At the start of the weeklong trip to Kareetha, Brantok sat Hiram down and told him what was involved in this trip. The journey to the capital planet was to install the implant into Hiram’s brain that would link him to the rest of the Sixteen Galaxies.

  “The mind implant,” Brantok told him, “Uses stabilized point connections. I believe your people call them wormholes, for some reason. These point connections are far too minute for anyone to travel through, but they can transmit information between two distant locations in an instant. It is the same way we now transmit the data for solidified light holograms. Hence, we can communicate with one another at any time. The implant allows the wearer to admit and close connections at will. To exercise these commands takes the same thought process as any other action. Say, to lift an arm, or scratch your nose. It won’t take you long to become accustomed to it, Hiram. In no time at all, it will be a subconscious function; as easy as blinking.”

  Brantok sighed. “It’s hard to put into words how good it feels, to be honest, Hiram. Your private thoughts are still private. It takes a conscious act of will to share a thought. And any contact from another must be accepted by the recipient; so we are still complete as individuals. But, being connected to your fellow citizens is a wonderful addition, it really is. So much is missing from an interchange of words and expressions. With our implants, we don’t need to tell our friends how we feel, we can show them.”

  “It sounds amazing,” Hiram replied. “What about the operation itself, though? Is it painful?”

  “In no way, my friend, in no way. This is all done at a microscopic level; you feel nothing. I guess the word ‘surgery’, while accurate, is a bit misleading for someone like yourself. You are only familiar with the gross invasions that constitute current medical practice on your planet. The implant itself is but an infinitesimal seed, which is put in place by gravitational beam manipulation. It attaches itself to a specific neural pathway, and then grows into the implant, which is microscopic in size.”

  Hiram shook his head. “We really are so primitive, aren’t we?”

  “On the contrary, my friend, if humanity was of an age with us, I think we would languish far behind you. Why else do you think Kestil is prepared to start a war to secure your allegiance?”

  “People like Kestil are prepared to start a war over most things, I find.”

  “Indeed,” Brantok said, “He thinks like your people. They have taken warfare to the level of a business venture. They fight wars for profit, and that is a very bad sign.” He put a hand on Hiram’s shoulder. “However, let’s have a change of subject to something a little brighter, shall we? I’d like to tell you about your other operation.”

  Hiram winced. “There’s more than one?”

  Brantok laughed. “Only two, my friend, only two.” He leaned closer to Hiram. “The second one is to remove the mechanism in your DNA that causes old age, sickness and death.”

  Hiram turned a pale face to Brantok, who regarded him with an impassive smile. “Remove it? You mean, I’ll never die?”

  “Well,” Brantok replied, “You won’t be immortal. But, barring any great misfortune, no, you need never die, Hiram.”

  Hiram stared at the floor. He sat speechless for some time and then got up and walked to a viewport nearby. He watched the stars as they traversed his view. He’d always thought there’d be some kind of tunnel when a ship travelled faster than light, like in the movies. Ribbons of light, a shimmering radiance, anything to denote the miracle he experienced. Instead, relatively speaking, the scene outside was unremarkable. Stars occasionally flashed past close by, while more distant ones wandered across his field of view at a sedate pace. It reminded him of driving through the countryside at night; the view from the back of a limousine the only relief from constant phone calls and documents to read. How far he’d come in a matter of weeks. How pathetic and tiny the political affairs he used to be involved in seemed now.

  Brantok joined him. “A bit of a shock, I would think. I apologise for any lack of tact on my part. We grow up with the idea of eternity, whereas it is entirely new for you. I am sorry, I should have exercised more caution.”

  “On the contrary, Brantok, I couldn’t ask for better news, could I?” Hiram’s thoughts turned to Earth. To live for eternity may be a two-edged sword. Unless he could help Truly and the council stop Kestil, the future, though it had no end, may not be that bright.

  During that week of travel, Hiram was put through an intensive education into the Sixteen Galaxies’ culture by Breetak, the AI of Brantok’s ship. She revealed much of the science behind Sixteen Galaxies technology, as well as some of the customs and traditions of the galactic society.

  He also had a long-standing puzzle solved. Ever since his first trip to Nuthros’ ship, Hiram had wondered about their language. Breetak explained why everyone he met spoke English.

  “Of course we have our own language, Hiram. As you would expect, it is not only larger in vocabulary than English, but much more sensible in its construction. We have no name for it, as the entire society only speaks one dialect.”

  “So how come, when I visited the council hall as a hologram, they spoke English?”

  “They didn’t, Hiram. Truly simply implanted our linguistic characteristics in your mind while you were asleep. It’s not very hard, as our brain architecture is essentially the same, owing to our common ancestry. Our language is so thoroughly part of you now that it doesn’t register with you as a ‘foreign’ language. Nuthros speaks English. Well, he speaks quite an array of your languages, actually. No surprise when you consider he’s been around Earth longer than most of those languages have.”

  Hiram nodded. “Yeah, the whole living for eternity will take some time to get used to.”

  “I’m sure you’ll become accustomed soon enough, Hiram.”

  12

  Max Cardwell checked his mirror again. The dark blue sedan was still there. He pressed a button to speak with his passenger. “Excuse me Mr Vincent, but I believe we are being followed, sir. A dark blue sedan with two men in the front.”

  Donald Vincent didn’t turn around and look behind. “Have you checked, Max?”

  Man, but the boss is a cool customer, Max thought. “Indeed I have, sir. Several repeat turns and three lane changes, they are four cars behind, but still there. The cars have been swapped twice now, but it’s the same make each time, and always two men in the front.”

  “Very good work, Max. Leave it to me, please.”

  “Of course, sir.” Max made no more changes to his course, but he kept a wary eye on the car that still tailed them. He couldn’t see clearly through the smoked glass divider to the back area of the limousine, but it looked like the boss was on
his phone.

  Five minutes later, he saw the dark blue sedan pull over. As it faded out of view, he saw the driver jump out and lift the hood. Steam erupted from the engine bay. He smiled to himself; bad luck, boys. He spotted the replacement car within a minute. A dark burgundy this time, but still the same make and model, with two men in the front. The new car was in position for no more than a minute when it suddenly swerved to the right and weaved to a stop, the front right corner down. The driver leapt out and kicked at the front right tire.

  Max frowned. He put little faith in coincidences. Their tail remained clear, which made it obvious these guys didn’t have a third backup ready. He drove for another ten miles, before he took the turnoff for the industrial park. He turned into the driveway of the building indicated on his satnav and pulled the limo up outside a large door. The door opened and admitted the car, and as soon as they were in, it closed behind them. Inside was a small parking area, completely walled off from the rest of the building. There were security cameras everywhere.

  Donald Vincent nodded his thanks as Max held the door for him. “Please wait here, Max. I shall be about an hour. There’s a lunch room to your left there, where you can get a coffee and a snack.”

  Max saw the lunch room. “Very good, sir.” He headed for a coffee. Donald Vincent went through another door, after being greeted by two men in laboratory coats. Behind them, Max spotted a security guard with an assault rifle. Max decided to mind his own business from hereon in. Whatever the boss was into, the less his driver knew, the better.

  *****

  Agent Ronald Baxter kicked over a waste paper basket in the little office. “You can’t tell me a blown radiator hose, and then a flat tire on the backup car, is a coincidence, Harry. No freaking way that’s a coincidence. Those cars are 6 months old. And the one available satellite develops a glitch that takes it offline? Come on. I told you we needed a chopper as backup. I knew that son of a bitch was working with these alien bastards, I knew it!”

  Harold Parkhurst got to his feet. “Settle down, Ron, please. Look, we’re outgunned here, big time. If I had a chopper in the air near Vincent, it would have fallen out of the sky. At least we know for a certainty that Vincent is a player. A couple of busted cars and a faulty satellite won’t be enough for the top brass, though. I would love to know where Vincent was headed. The guys in the team couldn’t pick the limo back up in time, unfortunately.”

  Baxter leaned his back against the wall and bumped his head against it gently. “Nah, you’re right. If our guys had picked the limo back up, the aliens might have decided they were being too subtle, anyway. We don’t want men down for the sake of gathering intel.” He rubbed his forehead. “What the hell are we trying to do, Harry? What’s the point? We field rocks and clubs, while these guys fly spaceships.”

  “Well,” Parkhurst replied, “we’ve confirmed for ourselves that Vincent is getting his tech from them. I’m not sure how that helps us, though. You’re right, I don’t know what we’re trying to do here. I guess I hoped you’d have gained contact with them by now. I mean, why the hell would they be helping you, and Vincent at the same time? I need to get some clarification and pass on what little we have. Just get the boys to hang around here and try to get some sleep. I’m off to consult the higher-ups. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Baxter flipped a mock salute at his boss. “See you then.”

  *****

  Hiram took his seat as a full council member for the first time. His designated place put him next to Nuthros’ hologram on his left, with a man called Dethos on his right. Dethos introduced himself as a representative of Yaergis IV, a planet he described to Hiram as ‘covered in magnificent forest’.

  The idle conversation faded as Asdrin stood. “My fellow councillors, please join me in welcoming our newest member; Hiram Sertan, of Earth.”

  Hiram bowed to the applause and smiles that surrounded him. Congratulations flowed in on his implant, and he marvelled at the ease with which he managed to acknowledge and respond to it all. Brantok hadn’t exaggerated at all about how easily he would acclimatise to the implant. He certainly didn’t mind the feel of his increasingly robust and healthy body, either. Hiram had passed up the option to reverse his age-worn appearance, he decided he would take his cue from Asdrin and retain his greying hair and wrinkles.

  When the applause died down, Asdrin’s face sobered. “My friends, I’m afraid I must burden you all with the gravest of news. Our probing of the Independent World’s space continues, but what we have back so far is shocking. Please consider this footage.”

  He gestured to the centre of the hall, where a scene appeared in full 3D. There was complete silence as the horror of what they saw hit home. “This,” Asdrin said, “Is from a planet in the outer Baemer constellation, in what should have eventually become our seventeenth galaxy. As you can see, this was an exploration detail colony. The evidence suggests they would have been on planet for about ten cycles.”

  The probe wandered over the surface, and panned its camera left and right as it went. It revealed the remnants of what could only be described as a massacre. Bodies littered the surface. They lay among the smoking wreckage of small buildings, machinery and crops. In the fields there were scattered carcasses of some kind of herd animal. Massive craters indicated a bombardment of some kind, while tracks from heavy vehicles weaved among, and sometimes over, the dead. Hiram could hear several in the audience weeping, and he realized he was alone in his familiarity with this kind of sight.

  He had seen similar at UN conventions. Video of areas in Africa, where either warlords or mercenaries had ravaged a village and left no survivors. The probe concluded its tour of the devastation by approaching the centre of the carnage, where a combat vehicle stood abandoned, half buried in the shattered ground. On the side of the vehicle was the image of a planet with a pair of wings. Underneath was a small caption, which read: ‘The Independent Worlds’.

  “In the light of this information,” Asdrin said, “We shall adjourn for the day to absorb the news and resolve our emotions to a level where proper discussions can resume.”

  Hiram walked out in silence. Around him, no one spoke at all. Tears tracked down the faces of nearly all of his compatriots, and it brought home how close-knit this massive community was. It was clear to him that these people could not accept the senselessness of the slaughter. Theirs was a life of peace; brought about and maintained by wisdom and insight drawn from millennia of knowledge. This kind of barbarity they witnessed only as outsiders, and even then, researchers were the only ones to see it. It was a primitive and savage act, in their eyes, and it made no sense that beings from a society supposedly parallel with their own would practice it.

  He joined Nuthros and Brantok at the low wall that overlooked the lake far below. The three stood in silence for a good ten minutes, until Nuthros spoke. “I’m not convinced Kestil has ex-members of the Sixteen Galaxies among his followers. The idea that our people could turn and do such a thing…”

  Brantok shook his head. “No. No-one who has experienced our way of life could abandon it to that extent, Nuthros. Especially not to live among mass murderers. If our people are with Kestil, they are there against their will, I’m sure of it.”

  “I suspected as much when Kestil told me exploration details agreed to join him with such ease, Nuthros said. “Obviously, those that refuse are…dealt with. It fills me with shame that my blood could instigate such an atrocity.”

  Brantok put an arm around his friend. “Kestil is only half your blood, Nuthros; remember that.”

  Hiram flicked a glance at Nuthros, but kept silent. Nuthros, however, caught the look. “I owe you an explanation, Hiram. Kestil is actually my half-brother. It is something that he’s unaware of, as was I, until that time four and a half millennia ago. After I escaped, Brantok told both myself and the entire council the truth about Kestil. It was a truth he kept hidden for a very long time.”

  He turned back to the view. “My
father was a researcher, like me. My mother studied botany on a planet not too far from here. Father was studying a planet in the eighth galaxy for several millennia. In a moment of weakness, he allowed himself to form a relationship with a woman on the planet he was studying.”

  Nuthros bowed his head. “It was a serious breach of conduct. It was even more serious when that relationship turned physical. These days, a ship AI would have headed the matter off before it developed. But, back then ship AI were not as advanced. Neither did they have any authority, as they do now. Anyway, Father impregnated the woman, something not countenanced, even at that time. He contacted Brantok, who was Father’s closest friend. It was agreed that Father would be replaced by another researcher. So in love with this woman was he, that he had his implant removed and his aging re-triggered. He then went planet-side, to leave the Sixteen Galaxies behind and die with the woman he loved.”

  Hiram frowned. “How did your mother take all this?”

  “Oh, it didn’t bother her too much, Hiram. Their relationship vow ended after I finished my apprenticeship with my father; they drifted apart long before all this happened. So, Kestil was born on that planet, to become a normal citizen. But, after just one year, it became clear to Father’s replacement that Kestil was unusual. The boy could speak several languages and ran, let alone walked, at just one year old.”

  Hiram thought about that. “So he was advanced beyond normal abilities?”

  “Indeed he was,” Brantok replied. “You see, to keep the whole thing quiet, I replaced Nuthros’ father. Kestil’s advancement was not only fast, it seemed to be exponential. If he were allowed to remain on that planet, he would undoubtedly have had an adverse effect on its development. I decided to remove Kestil, while there was still time. I brought him to Nuthros’ mother, who agreed to raise him as her own.”

  “What happened to his father?” Hiram asked.

  Brantok bowed his head. “To my everlasting shame, he lost his mind. He knew who had taken the boy, and he tried to get others on the planet to see. He started to declare the presence of aliens everywhere he went. At that time, the planet was at the equivalent stage of Earth’s late eighteenth century, at the start of the age of steam. The woman he had abandoned all for was of royalty and so they locked him away to avoid the scandal of a madman in the family.”