Magestic 3

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘You bring here two sons. How many children do you raise in the land of the ancestors?’

  ‘We produced a boy and a girl together, and twin girls, human children – not Seethan,’ I explained. ‘And they are now adults. My son, he was an army colonel in the great war we fought.’

  ‘Where was this great war?’ the presenter puzzled.

  ‘The war was fought in the stars, against people from stars far away who wished to come here.’

  ‘Here … to Seether?’

  I considered my response. ‘They wished to take these lands, Seether and Preether, and we fought a great war. I travelled in a ship to the stars with ancestor Jimmy Silo, the Great Prophet, and we made war on the enemy till the Great Prophet spoke of peace. Now we are friends with the enemy.’

  ‘This enemy threatens us no more?’

  ‘No, now you are safe.’ I was wondering if this guy would ask Susan a question, or be just as misogynist as the rest of the men here. ‘My wife, Susan, raises these two boys in our home with the ancestors. They are the children of Sandra, a Seethan female whose armies fought at the great battle. We honour her by raising her children in our home.’

  ‘How many wives do you mate with?’

  I resisted a smile, and Henry shifted on his seat. ‘Ancestors only have one wife, and we stay together for – a very long time.’

  Susan glanced at me.

  ‘Even when old?’ the presenter puzzled.

  ‘Even when old,’ I confirmed. ‘In the land of the ancestors, women work, they teach, they live with men and walk the streets. In the land of the ancestors, there is one woman for every man.’

  ‘That many!’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, that many. And soon that many to be here, because we bring many girls to you, many girls born of Great Queen Selemba, who does not give birth to boys – only girls.’

  ‘Only girls?’

  ‘Yes, and twenty-five at a time.’

  ‘We shall prosper with such numbers,’ the presenter enthused.

  ‘Selemba, Great Queen of the Seethan, is known through time as the mother of all Seethan and Preethan, and on many worlds in the stars.’ I tried to get Susan into the interview. ‘My wife, Susan, is a doctor of great skill, and can make the sick well.’

  Now the interviewer faced Susan as she held Klok. ‘You work as doctor?’

  ‘Yes, I studied as a doctor, and I have worked as a doctor for many years.’ She paused, and I half turned my head. ‘If there are Seethan here who walk with bad legs, or live with bad arms, come to the embassy here and I will help.’

  I was suddenly on the spot, since I figured that a bad idea, a real bad idea. There would be a queue at the gate in the morning. ‘We are here to help our people. If a Seethan doctor cannot help, we can help. Susan is … the best doctor of the ancestors.’

  After I had said it, I wondered why, but it would be hard to disprove.

  After the interview, Henry was cautious about Susan performing medicine here, I could tell by his look and his demeanour. In his office, Klok and Chime running around, I opened a bottle of wine and poured one for Susan, a second for Henry.

  Henry said, ‘I fear the locals may descend on this place, so – with your agreement – I’ll have a surgical unit brought down right away. There’s one with the Marines at the portal.’

  ‘It’ll do some good,’ Susan began. ‘A little hearts and minds, and they need to see women that don’t just breed!’

  I faced Henry, and waited, Henry agreeing with a shrug.

  ‘Selemba is here,’ Henry noted. ‘So … we may as well try and break down a few barriers if we can.’

  The surgical team arrived overnight, a tent or two set up for the morning, and as predicted a bunch of bachelors hobbled towards us, some pushed in wheelbarrows. Susan greeted the surgical teams, rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a gown, and I didn’t see here again till 4pm.

  ‘How’s it going?’ I asked in our room.

  ‘We straightened a few broken legs that had set badly, and then … then we straightened a few broken arms that had set badly. Routine, but we saw a cracked pelvis, two spinal injuries, broken scapula, and a few simple dislocations. We cleared the decks.’ She started to wash.

  ‘Hearts and minds’, I noted.

  ‘And many erections.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The men, they get erections with a female examining them.’

  ‘Love, human males get erections with nice lady doctors examining them. This lot … have never seen a babe like you. Well, they’ve never seen a woman.’

  We ate with Henry that evening, discussing the approach we were taking here - in advancing the Seethan.

  ‘The girls that are now here,’ I began, ‘Selemba’s offspring, they’ll all be smart, as well as breeding like rabbits. So … maybe they’ll get involved in things outside of simply raising kids. And the boys they produce will be smart, so they’ll be more scientists around in the next generation.’

  Susan put in, ‘They’re due to fight a war in forty years, so … the next generation – Selemba’s male descendants - will be involved.’

  ‘Smart young engineers, old school politics,’ Henry said with a sigh.

  ‘It’s just the one major war, and then Jimmy says they are peaceful,’ Susan added.

  ‘That war might turn its generation against the old political elite,’ I pointed out. ‘Other wars have had that effect. So, even if it’s bloody, it may change attitudes, as wars do.’

  ‘Yes,’ Henry sighed. ‘They need their own Second World War to try and make a lasting peace. And, obviously, the Preethan lose.’

  ‘Or just become integrated,’ I countered with. ‘Maybe the Seethans develop a social culture – movies and video games – and the Preethans slowly change. The Japanese lost the war, but became more western than the westerners; we got Sony Walkmans from them!’

  Susan agreed. ‘The Japanese set the trend in many areas. So maybe it’s a gradual cultural change here, not an invasion that alters things.’

  Henry put in, ‘The way the Preethan President is going he’ll control Colorado, Kansas, Texas, and he’s now sending out teams to Missouri. He’ll end up with a population base five or six times bigger than the Seether.’

  I raised a finger. ‘But the Seethans in Britain are non-political – and they’ll grow, plus the Congo will out pace him. I see us ending up with more Seether outside of the States in time - than inside.’

  ‘But could they affect politics here?’ Henry posed. ‘Through trade and negotiation, yes, but … is that enough?’

  I wasn’t too worried about Preethan expansion, it pleased me to see either side developing. With Susan and the boys back on 1938-world, I sat staring at maps of the States, and finally came to a decision. I asked for thousands of volunteers – but only from 2048, and had them arrive in Virginia, not far from where Washington once stood. There task would be a simple one: clear a road – and if possible a rail track, all of the way to Denver.

  A great many Americans volunteered, all keen to come visit, and to see what had happened to the land after the war. That war had been fought a long time ago and, as in Britain, Mother Nature had reclaimed that which was hers to start with. Buildings still stood, but had bushes growing out of them. Roads were blanketed with twelve inches of soil, bushes growing, tall trees now standing where the ‘median’ used to be.

  Many historians came across, many documentary crews, and when the volunteers were not clearing the highways they would potter about in old shopping malls, picking over dated items.

  A survey had been done by the drones when we had first arrived here, and it had shown low levels of radiation in many of the principal cities that had been nuked, metals retaining some element of low-level radiation. It also seems that most of the nuclear power stations in the States had been shut down within a few hours of the bombs falling. None had been positioned in the centre of a city!

  A few seem to have suffered a melt-down, and had exploded or
caught fire, and there were still a few isolated ‘hot spots’ in the States. Those hot spots would need to be dealt with in the years ahead, and I requested a team for just that purpose. I also requested a team that would look at old military bases, and dispose of ordnance – such as conventional bombs sat rusting.

  The volunteers soon found such a military base, a few rusted fighter jets sat on the cracked concrete paths. The aircraft’s undercarriage had crumpled and been swallowed by the weight of the aircraft bodies, their wings had detached, noses fallen off, tails fallen off. They looked as if they had slowly melted over the decades and dismantled themselves, just the Perspex canopies as they once were. Hangars offered up stacks of rusted bombs amidst bushes and birds nests. My original world sent US soldiers, a demolition team, and loud explosions could soon be heard where previously just birds disturbed a quiet afternoon.

  Three months after they had started, and having worked through the winter, our volunteers suddenly met a Preethan team with a similar idea – and coming the opposite way. The Great Ancestors were welcomed, and maps were laid out, the Preethan President soon appraised of the fact that he could drive all of the way to the east coast. It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride, the road potholed, but when I considered the roads around Denver - I considered he’d not notice any difference.

  Henry and I then stopped to stare at each other, as one morning a Preethan team reached all the way to coastal Virginia and said hello to the volunteers they discovered there.

  I grabbed the three helicopters we had, and flew over to Preether. Finding the President, I suggested that he and another official pack a bag, and we’d go fly down this new road. He didn’t need to be asked twice. We set off at dawn the next day and followed the rough course of the road, landing late afternoon in Missouri, where we made camp near a bunch of volunteers and historians. Gasoline was grabbed from tanks brought across by the volunteers, the helicopters refuelled.

  The next morning we pressed on, flying over Kentucky, the Preethans peering down and taking notes. After refuelling again, we made the coast and landed, a camp made whilst smelling sea air. I laid out a large map for the President, and showed him how far we had come, and how small his original territory had been. I then amazed our guest by showing him a map of the world, and he tried to figure out how large the Atlantic Ocean was. He suddenly felt very small.

  When I pointed out Britain, he asked about the ‘small island’.

  ‘This small island is bigger than your original territory,’ I explained. ‘Good land for crops and livestock, and we have many Seether and Preether there who work the land.’

  ‘Where is best land?’ our guest asked, and I wondered what was on his mind.

  I tapped northern France. ‘Here is best land. Crops, livestock, water, but no oil.’

  ‘Where is best land with oil?’ he pressed.

  ‘You have much oil in your land,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes, yes, but where is most and best land with good oil?’

  I was feeling mischievous, and tapped the map at Cuba. ‘Here is most oil, and much mine of metal, good land for cattle and fish, and very warm like summer in south of your lands. Here we teach many thousands of Seether and Preether, and raise many babies.’

  He studied the map, and could see that the Cuba was so far away from his existing territory as to be beyond belief. ‘It very long way.’

  ‘You can sail to it in four days from Texas, the big ships you see. And you can fly in one day.’ I tapped the map, a finger on Florida. ‘If you make a base here, you can fly to Cuba.’

  ‘We can fly in your special plane?’ he asked.

  ‘No, too far. But we can go to my world, and visit from there.’

  ‘Through magic ring of light, yes?’

  I nodded, wondering what was on his mind. ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK, I want to go see.’

  I shrugged and made a face. We were close to the portal that the volunteers had used, and flew to it in minutes, landing at their camp. They sent a signal, and I soon led the President and his associate across with four of my regular guards. He stepped through, wondering where he was, and where this room of people had come from; after all, there had been an empty field a minute ago. I led him out, a TV crew filming us, and to a waiting bus.

  I directed the startled driver to Andrews Air Force Base, and used my pad to call ahead. At the field, the base’s commander welcomed our Preethan President, a quick show laid on of fast fighter jets and orbital craft, my guest amazed at the speed and agility of the craft. And no, none were up for sale to him, he was informed. Boarding a military transport, we settled in for the short flight, food served, my guest peering down at Florida.

  ‘Many people,’ he noted as we crossed Miami. ‘Capital city?’

  ‘No, a small city,’ I informed him.

  We landed at the very same airstrip in Cuba that Rescue Force el Cuba had settled in many decades ago. Off the plane, and away from its air conditioning, the President enjoyed the moist heat, and we soon stepped through another portal, this time back to his world.

  ‘You are now back on your world,’ I informed him. He could see the tents, the Rescue Force staff, and Seethans wandering around - none of whom gave a crap who he was. I commandeered a bus, and we made our way to the coast. Stopping at a wide sandy beach, he marvelled at the scene.

  ‘Go for a swim,’ I encouraged.

  He and his associate stripped off, no need for bathing costumes, and plunged in, the dignitaries soon frolicking in a most undignified way. Smiling, I waved them out after twenty minutes and they dressed, sand getting everywhere, shoes carried. Jackets remain off, ties discarded as we trundled along the coast road at a slow pace and towards Havana.

  We passed a few other cars and buses, Seethans glimpsed walking along, shacks selling fresh fish or fruit on the side of the road. In Havana, we stopped at an oil derrick, the President knowing full well what it was and how it worked. With the sun lowering, I suggested a hotel. Well, hotel was something of a romanticised view of the concrete walls that we would stay in, but there were camp beds at least.

  Settled into the ‘hotel’, run by Seethan bachelors, we sat in what passed for their restaurant. At least they had table cloths and cutlery now. Fish was delivered, fruits of various kinds, and my guests tucked in.

  ‘It warm like this all time?’ they asked.

  ‘It is,’ I confirmed as I tackled my tuna steaks.

  The Seethans brought out fried sailfish, which was very tasty, and we finished with beef, both us humans and our Preethan guests quite stuffed. I pinched coins off Rescue Force staff sat near us, and paid for our meal as we sipped locally produced beer, enough beer to make us all sleepy. So what if the roof had holes, it was warm anyway, and it didn’t rain that night.

  I kicked up the President early, soon on a growling old bus and heading inland, mile after mile of fields keenly noted. We stopped to inspect banana trees, found coconuts on the ground, and spotted cattle roaming free in the distance.

  ‘Very nice here,’ the President noted. ‘We can have base here?’

  ‘There’s plenty of room. You can have base here, but you must not take land from Seether here, you must work together here.’

  He made a face. ‘Yes, yes, we work around them.’

  Working around the Seether was not quite what I had in mind, and I was concerned that I was leading him towards this Cuban paradise only for him to exert his influence here. Still, it all went towards developing this world.

  Figuring that I would take a short-cut back, I called up Dark Star. It descended from orbit towards me, Dark Star II with it. I enquired about passenger space, and Dark Star agreed that each craft could carry two humans. I faced my guards. ‘Guys, take the long way back, huh. I’ll see you at the embassy.’

  They were not happy bunnies, not happy at all, something about their jobs and their responsibility, and they headed off mumbling and cursing. Dark Star and its buddy landed quietly, the Preethans puzzling the od
d craft. A hatch popped open, and I informed my guest that he would be back home in Denver in minutes. He needed a little persuading about the safety, since his own craft were not very safe, but eventually clambered inside on his knees, his buddy close behind.

  I eased into Dark Star. ‘Hey, buddy,’ I called as I took the pilot’s seat. ‘Don’t tell my wife.’

  ‘I will remain silent about the matter, sir.’

  ‘Good lad. Now, let’s go see … Auckland, New Zealand.’

  Cuba

  The Preethan President took my invite to Cuba literally, and duly dispatched eleven thousand bachelors, a few hundred babies and a few hundred females, plus the obligatory officials, soldiers and police. They travelled down the Kansas road in long convoys day and night, to be placed aboard the old tubs in groups of around five hundred per ship. The ship crews were kept busy, but they had little else to do, and all of the tubs were pressed into service ferrying the Preethans.

  The Preethans loved the voyage, the warm sun and sea water, and would pump sea water up to shower under, many seen to be sat around sunbathing of a warm afternoon. They made land-fall in Havana, the local ‘hotels’ doing brisk trade. I had discussed the move with Henry, then with the senior Rescue Force staff on Cuba, and we allotted the Preethans land to the east, keeping them away from the Seethans. More oil was pumped, a larger portion refined into petrol, and Rescue Force bought up all of the spare fish and fruit it could to feed the new arrivals, creating a booming economy.

  I sent a request home, and tonne after tonne of farming tools were taken across to Cuba. I even sanctioned twenty electric buses to service the new Preethan arrivals. The buses would need to be withdrawn at some point.

  But the Preether had brought basic survival kits, bed rolls, fly sheets, long knifes, string, all sorts, and soon made camps in amongst the trees. Roaming cattle were shot by the soldiers, the meat distributed, and the commercial fishing ship now landed its catch in Havana instead of Galveston. The fishing crew handed the fish to the Seethans there, and the Seethans in turn sold the fish to the Preethans at good rates.