"Oh. We, we just killed people."
Milk was looking down at his attack screen that now had lists of numbers scrolling over it. "Hmm?"
"We just killed people," he mumbled staring out to space where the fighters had been.
Milk detected the emotion this time and looked at his friend.
"Well," he said soothingly, or as soothingly as such a man could, "they were trying to kill us. They weren't nice people. Anyway," he continued more cheerfully, "you've killed loads of people."
"I have?" Jason said greenly.
"You're a hitman."
Jason ran for the bathroom as the bile rose.
When he came back, and really it can't be stressed how odd it is to walk over pile carpeting in space, the big screen did not show happy things.
"What's that?"
Milk didn't look at him but kept fiddling with his attack screen. "It's your welcoming committee."
"Should it be on fire?"
"No. Those fighters we blew up were Durden Raiders and they couldn't have come across space on their own; they came from a bigger ship," he pressed a few buttons on the attack screen and the camera changed to show a big sleek space ship. "There."
"And now it's attacking our welcome party?"
"Yeah. Well it's sent more fighters out anyway."
"Ok, so, why?"
"For now 'what' is a better question."
"As in 'what are we going to do?'?"
"Exactly."
***
Which was exactly what the PM was thinking as the spaceships were spotted coming into the atmosphere. There was a moment when the PM had had to make a choice, a very long time ago it was now, but he could remember it clearly. The Amusingly Named Mr. Strict was advising them on careers and what Universities to choose. The PM had been very much bent on becoming a primary school teacher, though The Amusingly Named Mr. Strict had tried to persuade him to go into politics. According to The Amusingly Named Mr. Strict the PM had a political head. And he was right to some degree, the PM really did enjoy a good debate and had much preferred Human Geography to Physical (he was the only one), but, well, he still wanted to help out all those little kids, give them a good founding for life. He liked kids, he liked their innocence and the questions they raised that adults had forgotten existed. They challenged you to think differently, see the world differently and he hoped he could challenge them never to forget those skills, never to make that hideously stupid mistake of growing up. All we do is swap our own God-given imagination, for someone else's, which they then charge for. Brilliant, that's what being mature is, is it?
Still he had never regretted his choice, not during daylight, and not very often at night. More when he first came into politics, all naive, believing what The Amusingly Named Mr. Strict had said about taking his ideals into the Commons instead of the classroom. Of course, once he became Prime Minister he realised that it had all been a lie. There was little room in politics for idealism, certainly not in Number 10. All that happened was that you inherited the last PM's mess, who in turn had inherited most of it and so on and so forth.
Now he wished he was in a classroom surrounded by seven year olds all painting pictures of welcome for the aliens.
***
Jason was wishing briefly that he was a seven year old drawing pictures of aliens instead of facing a space battle with them. He and Milk were, after all, in a flying box.
"We should have painted a target on this crate," he said testily and as he did so something washed over him, what it was he couldn't tell, but it seemed to be feelings, memories, shapes in his head. He then grabbed the controls and twisted the ship towards the big enemy ship and accelerated. Milk considered shouting at him, but saw a face he finally recognised and picked up his joypad.
"As we go over the ship load everything you have into it," Jason barked.
"What about fighters?"
"I'll take care of them."
"And fly?" Milk asked surprised.
Not surprised because he didn't believe Jason could do it, Milk knew he could do it; he just didn't expect him to be remembering so much in his first five minutes in space. Ahh well, thought Milk, he would kind of miss Jason, he was a lot nicer than Chase. Still, he'd rather have Chase in a fire fight. Jason was known as 'Gutterball' at the local bowling alley.
"Worst case scenario, I'll see you in Fiddler's Green," Chase said and Milk groaned.
The Durden fighters were engaged with the UTN Naval fighters leaving the bigger cruiser to fire on the UTN mothership. The UTN fighters were struggling to break through the line and so the big Durden ship was caught unaware by the arrival of the flying box. The gunners scrambled to fire the smaller anti-fighter guns that bristled over the hulls of all large warships and by that time Milk was laying fire into the Durden hull.
Jason skilfully avoided the fire and Milk had already aimed at the anti-fighters creating a path for them to fly along. The Durden ship was forced to launch more fighters to destroy the surprising-hard-to-kill box. As the launched fighters came over their mothership Jason shouted to keep firing onto the ship and took his joypad with one hand. Because he couldn't move the guns he was forced to turn the ship in order to get the fighters into his sights. This he did with skills that, if he had stopped to think about it, would have incrediblised him.
Yes, that's a word now.
He didn't stop to think though, he wasn't Jason, he was Chase and he spun the ship left and to the right, making Milk have to spin his guns and scroll crazily through the gun ports in order to keep a gun focussed on the mother ship.
BLAM!
One fighter went down as another sped past and turned to take them from behind. Chase spun the ship in what would be a handbrake turn and shoved the ship into reverse. The fighter dodged and dived to skip Chase's fire but the pilot was not as skilled as Chase was, even in a flying box. As the fighter skipped past lasers cutting into the ship, Chase switched gun ports and blasted him at point blank. The concussion from the explosion buffeted the ship forward of the mothership and it was this that swerved Milk's lasers straight into the front windows of the bridge.
"Up! Up!" shouted Milk and Chase pulled another turn and rocketed upwards as the whole ship began to explode internally from its wounds.
They turned towards their own waiting mothership and as Jason and Milk came up behind the Durden fighters they were caught and scattered. Something in Jason's mind told him to blast the escaping ships, but he overruled it, confused at his malicious feelings.
The UTN ship was no longer on fire, but of course nothing is ever on fire in space as there is no oxygen, on the outside at least. When lasers hit a target they briefly create the necessary triangle for fire to swell but the oxygen dissipates quickly leaving just holes. Inside with artificial atmospheres it is a different story though; easily solved by containing the area and switching off the oxygen, unless there are people trapped in there and then it's a problem that began at sea.
Another great problem with space battle is that there is no gravity so when you attack a ship unless you blow it to smithereens it just doesn't go anywhere; still the enemy mothership was going to do them no harm as they watched smaller escape ships jettisoning and flying away protected by the fighters.
Chase and Milk flew to the waiting ship. Chase with a slow strange feeling of going from being one person to another. How had he done all that stuff? He had just taken a flying box into a space battle and won. Sometimes, he mused in his comfortable daze, life was strange.
***
As the saucers slowly descended through the surprisingly blue sky, the American President was in two minds. Part of him was every bit as worried as the PM, but a larger part of him felt validated. This was what he was born to do; he had always known he would be great. And so what if it turns out that being the President of the United States wasn't as important as everyone had thought until today? Dammit, he would lead his country, his world into the Universe. Every creature in space could an
d would learn from the American ideal and space would be a better place.
This wasn't true of course, the peoples of Earth were going to learn a lot more from the rest of the Universe than the Universe could learn from them. Americans had a tendency to think of themselves as the best without necessarily having the facts to back it up. But it was this belief that got them so far, this stubborn belief that they had it right and that everyone else should follow their way. It was the attitude that got them from colony to superpower in a very short time; that spread American culture across the globe and afforded many Americans a nice and comfortable life. It had also led to some very nasty endeavours.
But it was this pig-headed idea, that they were the best; this can-do attitude to life; the idea that any man or woman could work their way up from the dirt and succeed, that was exactly what the Great Council of the United Trading Network were banking on in order to win the upcoming WAR. If only that attitude, an attitude perfected by the British and then swept under the carpet with memories of the Empire, still existed in space. The problem was that in some ways space had become too peaceful, to empathetic and what was needed now was heroes. And the US knew all about heroes.
The President wasn't a stupid man nor was he unfair; he knew to let the British Prime Minister, however inept he seemed to be, run the show and later he would show his hand. These Aliens appeared, somehow, to be British after all. Best to let them keep to their own until they realised who was really in charge and then his place in history would be secured. Though dammit, he preferred it when history was small and confined to one planet, he was going to have to work harder to be remembered in Universal history. But then, the President had no problem with that. He liked a good challenge and that was why he was a good President. And now he had to shepherd a whole planet, not just a country, and that seemed like a good way to start his second term.
***
In films spaceships are generally functional looking, drab, grey corridors and such. Nothing like that when Milk and Jason disembarked their box and were being led to the main conference room. The walls were a pleasantly lit peach with numerous photographic posters of beautiful places across the Universe. I mean, people have to live in these ships, sometimes for a very long stint. Who wouldn't decorate it a bit?
They had been met by a small welcoming committee in a vast hanger. All around them were a variety of small space ships with an amazing number of people scurrying around fixing stuff and doing the things that engineer's do that looks a lot like scurrying around to the mere common man.
The committee was comprised of three Humans with two armed guards. The guards were in the red tunics of the British Empire and Jason thought of the film Zulu. The group of three was led by a severe young woman in a variation of the red tunic, though wholly better looking. She was about Jason's age, which is roughly 30 (though no one on Earth knew exactly how old he was. The doctors had looked at his face and guessed) and had her blonde hair tied back in a severe ponytail and wore frameless glasses. Jason couldn't help but think that if they were in a film she would whip off those glasses while simultaneously letting her hair free just before they made passionate love.
Passionate love seemed out of the question from the off. As soon as they presented themselves she gave Jason that look that only women can do. The one that says: I-don't-like-you-I-never-will-You-and-all-your-type-disgust-me. You know what I mean, you've had it enough times in pubs. Unless you're female and then you've probably given it at some point.
As they walked the corridors she filled them in about their upcoming meeting and spent most of the walk talking to Milk about Earth. At one point Jason had tried to throw in a comment about the place, but was met with merely a glare.
Outside the conference room Milk stopped them and turned to Jason.
"Life for you, and for me, is going to get weird from now on. More for you, thankfully. What happened in the ship back there, when you became Chase again; that's going to happen more often and you need to let it."
"I'm really not sure what happened back there. Listen, you're my friend?"
"Yes, yes I am, except?"
"Except?" This was not sounding good, what Jason needed right now was a friend.
"Except I was on Earth, before Earth I was less a friend and more a helper."
"A helper?"
"Yes, linking you to those who hired you, a facilitator in many ways. But not a friend."
"Right. I wasn't a bastard was I?"
"Erm?"
"Oh."
"Are we going in or not?" asked the severe woman.
"You fancy me don't you?" asked Milk.
She turned to the door with a sigh that said she thought both Milk and Jason were adolescent. Women across the Universe have developed a secret language, managing to put thoughts and feelings about the male species of their planet into mere sighs and looks. When women roll their eyes it either means, 'oh not this topic again' or 'I can't believe he's still that childish'. When men roll their eyes it means they're getting/have gotten too drunk to see.
"I guess not," commented Jason.
"Worth a try."
"Always."
She ignored them and opened the door. The room, which she exited quickly, was modestly large and filled by a conference table with no one around it. Well, except one person, which makes that last sentence completely inaccurate. The one person at the table (which obviously still had a jug of water with six glasses in the centre, just out of reach of anyone sitting down) was Sir Eric Falstaff, an elegant grey haired man who looked like he had been starched into the chair. He wore a grey three piece suit without a tie. Which looks odd, to be honest.
They went through introductions which weren't really necessary as they had all met before. It was just Jason couldn't remember it. He hadn't changed, Sir Eric thought, five years on and the rejuvenating effects of Earth had kept him the same, if not looking younger. It was a reminder that he needed a holiday at one of the Earthen spas, perhaps a whole month. Despite a wiped memory, Darkstaar had still come back into space wearing what he always did. Jeans and the battered red leather jacket. That boded well though, it meant that his subconscious had kept memories alive somewhere. He really hoped this would all be over quickly, another Laikan War would be entirely bothersome.
After stretching over the table to shake hands they sat down, all three of them thinking about a glass of water, but none of them could be arsed to get back up in order to reach it.
"Well, er, good to see you again, Chase," Sir Eric fumbled.
"You don't seem too pleased," commented Jason.
"He wouldn't. But you'll get used to that as well," chipped in Milk. "What was with that Durden Raider ship attacking?" he asked seriously.
"A mystery," Sir Eric said equally seriously.
"But it must have something to do with Jason, er, Chase."
"I don't see how or why that could be and anyway it's not a mystery you need to solve, you know why you're here?"
"No, not really," Jason was suddenly feeling tired and not a little bored. "Something about a thing that is hidden and I know where it is."
"Something like that. Let me enlighten you?"
***
The PM's stomached clenched slowly in time with the opening of the flying saucers door; which opened just as you would expect, part of the wall swung slowly down to form an entrance/exit ramp as thousands of flashbulbs popped like a really boring fireworks display.
Sir Jeffery stood at the top just in the door with his welcome committee of three men and two women, all in red coats and black trousers, with rather fetching white shirts and blouses. They had spent quite some time deciding on hat or no hat and had gone for no hat to try and keep things less formal. Sir Jeffery looked around at his equally worried looking comrades and tried to give them a reassuring grin. It came out more like a that-was-a-bit-more-than-a-fart grimace.
'Oh well,' he thought, 'we've come all this way, might as well see it through' and so he stepped
out into the light and down the ramp.
There were thirty seconds of silence and then a collective gasp from the Earthens. The thirty seconds of silence came from that brain misconception where you expect something, and something else happens, but your brain continues to tell you that what you are seeing is what you expected to see. What people expected to see was either Grey Aliens or Klingons; or maybe Romulans if you were a real fan. The collective gasp came when people realised that the things coming from the spaceship were Human. At this there was much applauding.
The PM and the President stood at the bottom of the ramp and watched the five people walk towards them. Now that they were actually there both the President and the PM felt more relaxed.
"I feel more relaxed now they're actually here," said the PM.
"Same here, you sure you can handle this? Should we have a signal if you need me to step in?"
"I'd prefer to be watching it all at home on the tele, but they asked to see the Queen so I guess it's me."
"If you're sure," more than slightly disappointedly.
Sir Jeffery et al. approached the PM and President at the bottom of the ramp and the applauding stopped. Everyone there had seen at least one movie where the aliens turn out to be less friendly at the last moment. The group reached the end of the ramp and shook hands all round. One woman gasped for no reason and then the applause was put into wild practise once again. There was a lifting of tension so great that it caused birds to fly out of the trees.
***
"So to sum up," said Jason, "you guys invented a new power source, so great as to travel into the outer reaches of space. However, having learned from nuclear power on Earth you realised that it would probably be used to create a very bad weapon. Therefore you gave all the gubbins about it to me because you knew I knew all the dark recesses of space and asked me to hide it in one."
"Yep," Milk said around a biscuit.
"And then you wiped my memory and sent me to Earth which would keep me young enough to survive a long time just in case you needed me to find it again."
"Right," Sir Eric.
"And can I only assume the reason I am here is that you need it back?"
"Sort of. You see another race have found out about the Trimedian; or more accurately they have found out about you and as the recent attack shows they know where you are."
The Trimedian Page 4