by Geoff Wolak
The men puzzled the heat, and just where the hell they were, and for the first few days just ate and drank, or slept through the heat. In small groups, translators explained that the bachelors were a long way south, that they would be given land, livestock, food and tools, and that females would be available in the future. Few of the men were interested in that last fact, but keenly asked about the livestock.
Day by day, bachelors were bussed to towns and villages, to mines, and were allocated work, or given land. That land came with chickens, pigs, goats, and donkeys, and the former inmates got to work, happy to be out of prison, happy to be fed, and very happy to have their own farms.
With the Preethan prisons suddenly empty, the Seethan asked questions, not least where their own people had gone. We explained that they would work for us, well fed, and would return in a few years. The President shrugged, made a face, and offered us two thousand Preethan war prisoners, and three hundred civilian prisoners. After sighing, I asked that they be bussed to the north, in small groups.
This time, though, I had them sent to Britain, where a few roads had been cleared north of London, a few small communities of volunteers established. The Preethan war prisoners arrived looking startled and disorientated, but were handed food, and pointed towards local farmland.
‘This is your hut, your pigs, your chickens and horses. And … have fun.’
Hertfordshire now hosted a population of Preether, and ex-cons from Seether. The two groups had both languished in the same hellish prisoners for many years, and had no interest in fighting each other. Politics? Hah. They hated their own governments - and all governments, they reported when asked.
They had found their journey across my world by plane to be astonishing, and now they found ancestors giving them food and livestock, and offering assistance with the farms. In some quarters, we were indeed the beloved god-like ancestors.
And then something odd happened. A Seethan, a child of Sandra who had been raised in the Congo as part of the weapons project, asked to help out in Seethan Britain, not future Britain – which was where he was living at the time. No one saw a problem, and he stepped through with a bag over his shoulder. He had been raised by an African family speaking English, but had also been encouraged to study his ancestral language.
That young man, named Paul like me, walked brazenly into the largest hostel of Preethan men, and called them to order, and to gather around.
‘I am Paul, and I was raised by the kind ancestors on their world. I am here to help you, and I will act as arbiter for you in disputes. I will teach you, and I will help to make sure that those without enough get more, those with too much share what they have with others.
‘Here, in this place, you have everything you need, and if you work together - and follow my advice - you shall each have food and shelter, and you will be tended if you injure yourselves, and you will be looked after when you are old and cannot work. I am named Paul, come to me with questions.’
The average Seethan and Preethan citizen was fired up about politics about as much as the British before an election; they just didn’t give a crap. But this young man sounded like someone useful to know, and he had been raised by the ancestors. So people started to turn to Paul for advice, and Paul got things sorted; to start with simply the swapping of livestock. He organised men into hostels, and those that were over-crowded were thinned out a little.
The Rescue Force staff on hand could see what he was doing, and sent me a report. I read the report, and afterwards walked around the grounds of the embassy in the brilliant sunshine, my hands in my pockets. I found Henry tended his roses.
‘After me?’ he asked.
‘No, just out strolling. But I just read a report from Britain, Britain here. A Seethan, born and raised on Jimmy’s old world, volunteered to go help the prisoners in Britain.’
Henry straightened and gave that some thought, wiping his brow with the back of a gloved hand. ‘If he was from a Seethan future, I could see that as being a problem. But … he has no knowledge of their future – it’s classified. If all he’s doing is helping out, then that could not be seen as a bad thing.’
‘He’s just about taken charge of them, at an administrative level. He is now … the go-between with the human volunteers – the Piscean men’s leader.’
‘A natural leader may have come around anyway.’
‘This guy learnt to fly spacecraft,’ I pointed out.
‘Ah, well … he will be in a position to advance technology somewhat.’
‘I doubt he’s that stupid, and … they’re farmers, not spacemen. Most he could do would be … well, nothing; they’re too far behind to even conceive of what he could teach them. He’d need fifty years to get them to make a kite and go fly it.’
‘Then I guess you’ve answered your own question, and he’s not a danger to the timeline. He’s a Seethan, teaching Seethans.’
I raised a finger. ‘I think … I think we just found the key.’
‘Key?’
‘Spies.’
‘Spies?’ Henry queried.
‘Industrial spies. Think about it: how did I do it with Trophy aircraft?’
‘You … used the African scientists to suggest ideas step by step over many years’.
‘And if we had a Seethan, working in factory and living in hostel, he could drop ideas step by step,’ I keenly stated.
‘And advance the level of technology, but also weapons,’ Henry cautioned.
‘Washing machines won’t bomb anyone,’ I pointed out. ‘Nor TV sets or radios.’
‘What exactly are you suggesting?’
‘That we train Seethans in the colonies, and bring them back; apprentice schemes for a few years each.’
‘Bringing people back from Hawaii would be interesting; you couldn’t drag them away!’
‘If we train men without giving them land, we could offer them land here upon their return.’ I nodded to myself, and sloped off. That evening, I stayed up late creating a proposal, and sent to Jimmy before I went to bed.
Two days later he sent me a note: apprentice schemes, yes, good idea.
I made the plan formal, and sent all the humans on Seether a copy. The Seether would now be trained in certain skills, around one in twenty men in the far-off colonies to be selected for the programme.
Magestic 3
Copyright © Geoff Wolak
www.geoffwolak-writing.com
Part 5
Visitors
Reaching the portal in Manson by helicopter, I was looking forwards to seeing Susan and the boys, a holiday planned in New Kinshasa with Helen. Stepping towards the portal housing, my pad bleeped, but so did everyone else’s.
‘Incoming!’ someone shouted, all eyes turning towards the sky.
Twenty four hours earlier, four Seethan crewmen had slowly defrosted, tubes going into and out of every orifice, their bodies slowly warming up. After two hours they were sitting up and blinking, after four hours they were pulling tubes out of orifices. Cleaned up, and stretching like cats, they slowly eased out of their stasis chambers and grabbed some much-need sustenance.
Back to feeling normal, if a little sluggish, they eased onto the command deck and settled down.
‘Computer, ship’s location?’
‘Ship is approaching Earth, an orbit of two hundred miles established.’
‘Computer, time code index?’
‘Time code index is Zulu minus ninety-six years. Month is August, based on observations of the magnetic pole and Earth’s axis.’
‘Status of stealth mode?’
‘Ship is in stealth mode, energy levels nominal.’
‘Set orbit to eighty miles and began scanning.’
‘Signal coming in.’
The crew glanced at each other, and blinked. ‘Computer, verify last statement.’
‘Signal coming in.’
They again glanced at each other, as if not fully awake. ‘Computer, verify source and type of signal.’
>
‘Signal is high-band compressed, compatible, and is coming from a higher orbit.’
‘Computer, scan for other ships.’
‘No other ships are registering.’
‘Computer, accept signal.’
A screen came to life, the face of Major Alexi appearing, and startling the Seether. In his accented English, he said, ‘Good morning, boys, hope you slept well. Now that you are finally awake and smelling the coffee, you’ll follow us down to the planet’s surface, or you will be destroyed. Now, is there any part of that message that you fail to understand? Do you, by any chance, need a little kick in the pants to become fully awake, and to realise how much trouble you are in.’
‘Who … who are you?’ the Seethan pilot asked.
‘Major Alexi Andropov, Earth Defence Force. Mister Silo said to say … hello.’
‘Silo? The Great Prophet?’
‘Yes, he is monitoring the situation. And, once you are on the ground he will – no doubt – lift you by your ankles, bite chunks out of your asses, and ask you what you are up to. Now, do you wish to follow us down, or … go for a walk in space without a helmet?’
‘We’ll … follow you down, Major.’
‘Ship approaching,’ came from the computer.
‘Computer, follow that ship to the surface,’ the pilot reluctantly stated, rubbing his face.
On the ground, people had run around for ten minutes before Alexi signalled to say that he and his colleagues had captured a Seethan ship. We breathed again, and I now delayed my departure home because the captured ship was being forced down at the Manson portal. A few minutes later, Jimmy stepped out with a group of scientists, and a posse of guards.
‘What you doing here with us manual workers?’ I quipped.
‘Ship coming down?’ he asked as he drew level.
I nodded. ‘Alexi snared it. Seethan.’
Now Jimmy nodded, glancing skyward. ‘There were asleep, so … they’ve been somewhere far, far away, and taken six years to get here.’
My face dropped. ‘They haven’t been off to nuke the Zim, have they?’
‘That … we shall find out, as well as just when … they left their version of the future.’
Half an hour later the ships descended, the Seethan ship a dark purple colour almost, a metallic purple, and subtly different to our ships. It was sixty feet long, so about the same size, but I could see a few bits sticking out, a few bulges and indentations. It landed in a field, a smooth and silent touchdown, and we walked across. Nearing the ship, I could see scratches on its surface.
‘Are those scratches caused by space dust, a fast entry, or have they been fired at?’ I asked Jimmy.
‘They would have been caused by particles as small as a grain of sand, whilst travelling at speed,’ he suggested.
The hatch popped, and a face peered out at us. After glancing back into the ship, the Seethan crewman – dressed in a creased light blue jump suit - eased down and straightened, his colleagues following, soon all lined up like naughty children.
‘Who’s in charge?’ Jimmy asked the group, the ship now surrounded by Marines.
‘I’m Captain Baker,’ a Seethan offered.
‘Did you wish to cooperate, or … be incarcerated for the next five hundred years?’
‘We’ll … cooperate, sir.’
‘Good. So, first things first. Where you just came from - your version of a Seethan future - had I paid a recent visit? Any contact with humans?’
‘No, sir,’ the captain puzzled.
‘OK, that gets you some smarty points,’ Jimmy toyed. ‘Next question: where have you just been?’
‘We … discovered an alien craft, and followed it, sir.’
‘About six years flying time to get there?’ Jimmy nudged.
They exchanged looks. ‘How did you know that, sir?’
‘They don’t call me the Great Prophet for nothing. So, what exactly … did you discover?’
‘We came out of hibernation as we approached the Proxima system, followed the other ship without being detected, and observed it utilise a portal on a large asteroid.’
‘But you didn’t try and follow it?’
‘There are scattering fields around the portal to stop anyone getting the frequency, sir, and an elaborate password request.’
‘Clever,’ Jimmy commended. ‘They don’t want us find their home … anymore than we want them finding ours. So, next question. Why have you come back to this time, instead of your own?’
‘Our primary mission had been to find a … particular human interfering in our past, and to make … adjustments. But when we arrived we detected a ship of unknown design and decided to follow it when it left this planet.’
‘This human, he … came from Antarctica?’
They exchanged looks. ‘Yes, how did you know, sir?’
‘We encountered him, but you guys have been subjected to a paradox, because that individual ended up on a human world – where we captured him. In this time line … he would not have interfered. OK, you now have new orders.’
‘Orders, sir?’
‘Yes; you now work for me. You’ll be taken to our world for a de-brief, a lengthy de-brief, whilst our people have a look at your ship, and then … we’ll show you around one of the alien ships that we captured. You can even fly in one.’
‘You … captured one, sir?’
‘Yes, along with its pilot. So, we’ll share what we know – with each other, and then … when we’re ready, we’ll think of a common strategy. Would that be within your mission remit, Captain?’
‘It would, sir, yes,’ the captain enthused.
The crew were led away, the scientists closing in on the ship, but withdrawing after getting a whiff of the inside. It needed a few minutes to air out. I followed the Seethans back to 1938- world, and left them to be poked and prodded, and to be debriefed, and I was soon on a helicopter back to Trophy.
At the house, the boys were running around and chasing each other – the nanny trying to cope, so I sat with Susan and described what had just happened. She had been alerted to the incursion, and worried, but had relaxed when it was known that the intruders were Seethan.
Jimmy arrived a few hours later, having been chatting to the Seethans.
‘How are our new conscripts?’ I asked.
‘Keen enough to help out. They’re a bright bunch, but they don’t have a hell of a lot of respect for their political paymasters. And they got here by flying through a large portal in Northern Canada – which took them back around a hundred years and to that Seethan time line – your particular Seethan time line. They’re from a parallel Seethan world of course, but not the one I visited – and the one Baldy is watching for me. The Seethans on that particular world don’t have orbital craft.
‘These boys, they climbed to orbit – where they spotted the alien craft heading home. They hung back and followed it on autopilot, and the rest you heard. To get home they fly to Northern Canada, drop down to six feet and send a signal – which could take anything up to ten days to be answered, and they fly back through the portal.’
‘Similar to our Moon operations, only not on the Moon.’
He gave me a look. ‘That world, where we set the trap, has had no more visitors, backwards or forwards in time.’
‘That poor guy on the ground; do you think he would have tried to survive there?’
‘His people live for hundreds of years, so … it could have been lonely for him. Anyway, the star system where the Seethan tracked the alien to doesn’t have any EM signatures, so … we think they could have come from even further away.’
‘Or they live underground,’ I put in.
‘Not impossible. The Seethans only scanned for EM readings, not structures on planets; the bad guys may be radio silent. But there is another star system just two point five light years away from that asteroid. That first system, Proxima Centauri, is four light years away from us. But they could be a hundred years in the future,
or more, much more, and on any one of a hundred parallel versions of their own planet.’
‘And at some future date they clash with the Seether,’ I posed.
‘Well, they clash with whoever came from the Seethan planet - or that frequency, your frequency. Remember, they first sent Slumber in as a human, and – in the future – we’ll be involved with the Seether. So the clash may be with us, or no clash – just a jealousy and a paranoid concern. But I would hate to think … that two hundred years from now the Seether - or us humans - meet an alien race and screw up a first contact situation.’
‘I was wondering … if we could have a sneak peek at the world Toby visited.’
‘Sandra is there, and has a transmitter to send a signal,’ he began. ‘I was thinking of giving them a year or so before seeing if we can find the signal.’
‘We could just … open a micro-portal and listen in for a while,’ I nudged.
He smiled. ‘I’ll see if they can get a fix – about ten years after Sandra’s arrival.’
After our evening meal together, the boys having been sat at the table and well-behaved for a change, Jimmy received a message. He studied his data-pad for a minute. ‘Sandra’s world,’ he stated. ‘CAR is a huge company, oil flowing from Zanzibar and West Africa, as well as the Congo. Soviet Union broken up, Chinese trade increasing, oh – massive health savings from the drugs, Europeans adopting electric cars and buses.’ He lifted his head and smiled approvingly.
Reading on, he said, ‘Two Zim captured alive, their ships captured, new jet aircraft in use, laser cannon’s being developed by a consortium. Ah. India and Pakistan fought a war, a conventional war - no nukes, in 1989, two million killed.’
‘That’s a break in the timeline,’ I put in, sighing.
‘Indonesia has radicalised, bombs going off, and … Colombia and Venezuela fought a war, still going on. Russian Caucuses in turmoil.’
‘And the drones?’ I pressed.
‘Not deployed to those conflicts.’ He shrugged and made a face. ‘Economy is doing OK, Hillary Clinton served two terms, and now Jeb Bush is in the White House.’