To give credit
where it is due. The idea for this story game from a short story 'PLUS X' by
Eric Frank Russell. Other than a similar plot though this is 100 percent my own
work.
Tall tales in
Space. (5641 words)(12/05/2008)
Rewton woke up
with a start, then as his brain became a bit more active, he let his head fall
back to the ground. He new he wasn’t going anywhere.
‘I need a
cigarette.’ he said to himself and closed his eyes again.
Eventually he
groaned, rubbed his eyes and sat up. He was still in the same small metallic
cell he had been in for the last week. Well, a week possibly, he had no way of
telling the time these days. Not that he had ever had a watch or anything so
primitive as that in the past, but all the cybernetic implants and diagnostics
that the advanced human race was born with in this age had ceased functioning
since his capture. He had not only lost the power to tell the time, but his
motion sensing and direction finding abilities were also impaired. Still, all
Naval Personnel were taught to function without them, to deal with situations
just like this.
So. Captured.
Rewton shuffled himself over to a wall and leaned his back against it. He had
nothing to do but reflect. In space, armed forces personnel are rarely
captured. Usually when a ship is hit, its destruction was pretty quick. There
is no such thing as survival pods, not this far out and working alone. There
would be no point. Rewton, as the chief technician on his ship, the Hermes, had
been testing the Enviro-suits when the attack had happened. An enemy destroyer
had then scooped him up. To his knowledge he was the first human prisoner the
Illusians had taken.
It was a new war,
but was not wanting in blood shed. After only six months of conflict a lot of
lives had been lost. Some of them had been people that Rewton had liked. The
Illusians seemed to be either new at the art of war or were very brutal. They
attacked military and civilian targets with equal ferocity. They were as likely
to destroy a hospital as anything of military worth.
The Illusians had
slaughtered many human colonies with big bombs fired from space. They didn’t
seem to understand humans, and appeared to want to clear them out, the same way
a man would wipe out an ants nest. There was little to no diplomacy. There were
no surrenders on either side and, as Rewton had already reflected, they seemed
to take no prisoners. He often wondered at the reason why he might still be
alive.
His cell was
pretty bare. He slept on the metal floor using his shirt and trousers as a
pillow. It was quite hot in here so he just wore his shorts. There was a large
barrel of drinking water, and another bucket for him to go to the toilet in.
There was a console in one wall but he had been told not too touch that. The light
was dim, from a strip above him, about eight feet up. There were no windows and
one door. He suspected there would be a camera watching him somewhere but he
could not detect it.
He sat on the
floor and looked at the console and wondered what the alien looking keypad
might do. It looked like a typist’s nightmare, with enough keys for five pairs
of hands and looping spirals of sensors and contact pads around the main area.
Time passed and
he drank some water. Some more time passed and he relieved his bladder in the
bucket, gazing at the strange console in thought as he did so.
He was leaning
against the wall not thinking of much when the door opened and an Illusian
walked in. Walking was as good as any word for the slow movement of a four
legged alien with three arms and more elbows than Rewton could count.
The Illusians
that had captured him had no means by which to communicate with him. He had not
been addressed since his arrival but by gesture they had made it clear that he
should not touch the console. He was surprised then when the Illusian seemed to
say to him,
‘Hello, Rewton.’
He didn’t think
Illusians could be considered good looking by anyone’s standards. They had a
metallic quality to their skin. It seemed to be optional, or was decided by
some process unknown to Rewton as to how many eyes and arms they had. This one
had three arms, all ending in a clump of long fingers and jointed with probably
a dozen elbows each. This one also had eyes to the number of six all clustered
at the base of its head underneath a huge horn, or maybe some kind of snorkel.
There appeared to be no mouth or ears. Its long low squat body had a stocky leg
at each corner.
‘Ummm.. hello..’
He answered and scratched his stubbled chin.
The alien
proceeded to produce a box from one hand and put it on the floor. The box was
metallic and appeared to have a small speaker set into it.
‘From this box,
we may communicate. You would not be able to understand my real name as it is
composed of a series of modulated high frequency radio waves, but I have
decided you may address me as Isaac.’
‘Oh right.’,
replied Rewton.
‘First, formal
statement of intentions and purpose. I am your interrogator and my function is
to talk to you.’
Rewton didn’t
know how to respond to this so waited in silence.
‘Tell me Rewton,
do you enjoy passing water through your body?’
Rewton coughed in
surprise, ’Well, enjoy may be the wrong word. I need to drink water or I will
die.’
‘Yes, and you
consume the packets of proteins and carbohydrates that we captured from your
ship.’
‘Yes.’
Isaac seemed to
consider this, although his face, or where a face might be, was so alien to be
unreadable. He lowered himself down on his hind legs.
‘Communication
protocols, runtime error, sequence, oh , oh sorry.’, Isaac's attention was
suddenly drawn to the small box on the ground.
He started to say
something, but a no more than a squawk came out of the box.
The alien
considered the box for another moment, tilting his large head around like a dog
looking at a bone. He then extended a long arm and cuffed it.
‘Mental note to
self. Examine interpreter routines. Better.’
Rewton was
utterly confused.
The alien then
continued.
‘What purpose do
the dead cells on your head serve?’
‘Huh?’
The alien
extended an arm and touched Rewton's hair.
Rewton pulled
back and said. ‘Er, none, it just grows there, its hair. Keeps my head warm.’
‘Biological. You
have technological items within your body. These grow in you also?’
‘No, these are
implants.’
‘Your hair serves
no purpose connected to your implants?’
‘Err .. no.’
Isaac seemed to
consider this and rocked back on his hind legs.
‘You have smaller
hairs on your body, these are biological products of your evolution, maybe you
evolved from more hairy animals. Animals that had a cold environment.’
Nothing in the
modulation of the speech keyed Rewton into whether it was a statement or a
question, but he answered, ‘Yes. You are right.’
Isaac seemed
happy with this and tilted his head.
‘Well,’ Rewton
blurted, ‘I don’t know if you understand what interrogation is all about, but
these are not very important questions.’
‘You are probably
right,’ replied Isaac, ‘But you are very alien. Has it been explained to you
that you must not attempt to touch the console?’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘And you will not
touch the console or in any way at all interact with it?’
‘Ah, no, no I
won't touch it.’
‘I have had to
learn my job quickly. I have learned as much as I can from broadcasts and
communications with your species. This is a new method of learning information.
And a new method of communication. Disturbing air molecules to cause vibration.
Picked up from sound sensors. Most odd. Tell me about your race.’
‘What do you want
to know?’
Isaac rocked back
on his hind legs and slowly rubbed his elbows together then touched them
together, much as a man would steeple his fingers.
‘Tell me about
the U.P.’
So, Rewton
started to talk about the United Planets. He saw no real purpose in hiding such
basic facts and had never been trained in interrogation techniques or how to
handle alien encounters. He was still a bit shaken up from watching all his
friends die on the Hermes, and besides, like many of his race he was a free
thinker and a bit of a pacifist.
In a fairly
relaxed voice he revealed the following facts to his captor;
The UP, the
United Planets, or sometimes the UFP, the United Federation of Planets
depending on what area of space you lived in was a loose collective of several
hundred planets and orbitals as well as a few thousand deep space facilities.
It was all run from a central committee on a rugged planet orbiting Kochab, a
star 126 light years away from Terra, the birthplace of mankind. How this came
to be Rewton explained. As the human race, still fragmented into different factions
explored the stars around them, such as Proxima Centauri, Tau Ceti, Wolf 359
and Ross 128 they met a more advance civilisation, the Tasters, coming the
other way. By then Terrans had developed faster than light travel, the Tasters
while older and more powerful still relied on generation ships to spread there
genes around the galaxy. Here Rewton's knowledge of history got a bit vague, he
suspected they may have had religious beliefs that disallowed travelling faster
than light, as once you understood how to manipulated wormholes it was, while
not easy, certainly doable.
There were wars
at first, but soon the two cultures merged, with the seat of power on Kochab
(known locally as My'her). Mankind flourished and spread throughout the Tasters
Empire like a virus, soon taking over everything. One by one, the Tasters on
the central committee were replaced by humans. Over the next few hundred years
mankind came to totally dominate the empire and the U.P. was born.
But Taster
ideology, politics and some religion remained. The style of government that
suited such a wide area of space was known as ‘enlightened communism’ by some
and ‘tyranny’ by others. The central committee was now in essence immortal due
to longevity treatments and cybernetics. The duma had sat in session and not
been dissolved for the last two hundred and fifteen years. No committee member
had been replaced in over three hundred. The CC were more machine than man.
Freedom in the UP
is restricted, Rewton explained, more so on some planets than others. Each
planet has a governor in residence whose job it is to ensure tribute flowed
back to Kochab.
Political
officers on every planet in the UP watched over and guided the local councils
and soviets encouraging correct political thinking. Capital punishment was
encouraged, but not enforced on every system. Not everyone was happy with such
a draconian style of government, but not much had changed since the days of the
Tasters and seemed unlikely to with the CC so firmly installed.
And what had
happened to the Tasters?
They had all
vanished in a mass exodus four hundred years ago to the 'second arm', Terra,
Kochab, even the Illusians, being in the third arm of the galaxy.
A very
totalitarian communist style regime, yes, but one suited to the situation and
much more enlightened than any form of government in history.
Certainly an
improvement on the nearest alternative.
Rewton came to a
natural stop in his monologue. He had done all the talking except for the
occasional question from Isaac.
Isaac rolled back
on his hind legs and said
‘Yes, tell me
about the Empire.’
The human nodded
and said , ‘The Empire. It’s like a nightmare. Out past Ross 154, about 100
light years towards galactic centre. Our border touches theirs there. I suppose
we have always been at war with them. The only bits that we have ever seen are
the slave planets. The actual empire itself is said to extend for hundreds and
hundreds of light years, maybe all the way to galactic centre.’
It was funny,
thought Rewton, like a ghost story for children, the Empire seemed to exist to
scare the member planets of the UP into line. Like medieval stories of the
devil, the fear of the dreadful alternative kept them all together.
Isaac seemed to
wave a well elbowed arm in a gesture that might have meant Rewton was to
continue.
‘Well.’, Rewton
shrugged, ‘It could be all propaganda, I don’t know. I have seen pictures of
who the rulers of the Empire are supposed to be. Big black nasty spiders, but
you never get one on the border, we only hear stories from prisoners and
released slaves. The tip of the Empire that we can see from our border maybe
goes about a dozen systems deep and all of them are slave planets. In the war
we fight other humans or genetic soldiers. We call the Empire Spiderspace.’ ,
Rewton shrugged, ‘What can I say? For us humans, it's our worst nightmare.’
He then chanced
his arm, ‘Those ration packs you found
off the Hermes, did you happen to find any cigarettes as well?’
Isaac rubbed two
of his elbows together for a while then said
‘I believe it is
required that when I leave the room I must say goodbye. Goodbye.’
The alien rose up
onto its legs and left.
‘Ah goodbye.’,
replied Rewton with a half hearted wave.
He felt so
awkward about the aliens attempt at manners and the interrogation, if you could
call it that had given him a lot to think about. He walked around the room for
an hour to stretch his legs.
After Rewton had
slept he sat up and looked at the console. They obviously don’t understand
human nature very well anyway, he reflected. Why not touch the console. What
will happen? Is it electrified in some way? I suppose this is the nearest thing
they could find to act as a cell for me? Perhaps an operator worked here doing
whatever that console does. Do they understand that maybe my word that I won’t
touch it is maybe not enough to stop me from doing so? They talk like computer
programs.
Rewton doubted if
he was terribly representative of his race anyway. His people, the people that
lived on the man made satellites around Tau Ceti were a bit more free thinking
and open minded than most in the UP. He had been conscripted into the Navy and
when his term was served he would leave. He had seen many battles in the three
years he had been in service but he would never be a military man. In two years
assuming he was still alive and free, he would go back into civilian life.
Maybe go back to Tau Ceti and get a job in one of the tech modules.
The next day, or
what felt like the next day, Rewton could no longer stand the boredom of being
locked in the cell and started to fiddle with the console.
He started to
press keys at random, then pocked about on the odd looking sensors and swirling
areas they felt like jelly to the touch.
He had expected a
shock, but nothing seemed to happen. After a few more random key presses some
of them suddenly lit up. One of what may have been a display area brightened,
then went dark again. Without thinking he gasped and pulled his hands up to his
chest.
Just as he was
slowly lowering his hands back down to the console the door opened and Isaac
lumbered in.
‘It was explained
to you that you are not to interface with the console.’
Like a guilty
school boy Rewton stepped back and put his hands behind his back.
‘Ah yes.’
‘Yet you did so.’
‘Sorry.’
Isaac moved up to
the console and with clicking elbows extended several of his seemingly endless
supply of fingers pressed several keys.
As he did so he
said,
‘You understood
the command when it was issued and yet a fault occurred. Your processing may be
corrupt.’
‘Well ...’, began
Rewton.
Isaac seemed to
finish what he was doing, turned to the human and said,
‘This is a
makeshift cell. The console is for an operator to monitor and control nanode
fuel consumption on the base. You could have caused some serious damage.’
Rewton was
amazed, ‘But why put me here, I am your enemy!’
‘Your processing
was not seen as faulty.’
It began to dawn
on Rewton that he was being treated like a piece of broken programming. He
hoped that they were not going to debug him as harshly as he had done to some
of the systems on the Hermes.
‘Why have a
console at all? I thought you communicated via radio waves?’
‘Correct. For
lights, doors, terminals and data stores. But not for secure systems.’
‘I understand.
Humans can get implants to do these things as well.’
‘We are made like
this.’, Isaac said as he left the room, ‘Goodbye.’
Very shortly
after that, two more silent aliens arrived and dismantled the console.
Some time later
was awoken from his thoughts by Isaac entering the room, giving a tantalising
view of the corridor beyond, bearing an empty bucket, some food and the
communications device.
‘Hello Rewton.’
‘Hello Isaac.’,
he replied.
The whole of that
day, as it felt anyway, Rewton had to eat two meals during it, the
interrogation continued. Mostly it was about military matters. Early on Rewton
found that he could deny knowledge of something and Isaac would take it as
gospel that Rewton did not know anything about the subject under question. He
knew a great deal about the weapon systems that had been on board the Hermes,
as the chief technician it was his job. But once he had said to Isaac he knew
nothing about it, as far as the alien was concerned, that was that. He was
willing to answer more general questions, and occasionally he would ask one of
his own, which Isaac would always answer in some way. Rewton had never been
interrogated before, but he felt that, on the whole, Isaac was pretty hopeless
at it.
Over the course
of the day he learned a few interesting facts about his alien captors.
The Illusians
were an escaped robotic race, their masters being long since dead. Certainly it
was hard to tell by looking at them, they look more like large beetles than
robots.
In terms of their
own race, they appeared to be very adaptive and fairly peaceful. Any one
Illusian could do the job of another one after only a few days training. It was
also hard to imagine how one of these great hulks could get angry at another
one. There seemed to be so little for them to argue about.
There is little
crime, in fact they didn’t really understand the concept of crime. Occasionally
an Illusian would behave in a manner dangerous to another. The wrong doer was
seen as faulty and was ‘dismantled’.
They favoured
democracy as the main mode of politics, Isaac could only explain the human
races politics by their primitive modes of communication. He though Rewton very
backward.
They communicated
with each other via radio waves which had meant that someone had had to design
and build a device to communicate with humans. Their large brains were
apparently in their torsos.
The next day they
talk about politics. Rewton argued that galactic communism is the only way to
run a nation as big as the UP, but Isaac argued that democracy (something that
humans saw as outmoded), freedom and leniency were the best way. This
conversation went on for some time and Rewton got the feeling that Isaac
enjoyed it.
The conversation
gradually worked its way back onto more recent events and up to the destruction
of the Hermes.
‘Tell me again
how was it you came to survive?’ asked Isaac.
‘Lucky I guess. I
was outside the ship, testing a suit. I still had a full tank of air when you
nailed the Hermes.’
‘What is luck?’
‘Luck, you know,
er.. liked I had a guardian angel looking after me.’
‘A guardian
angel. What is that?’
‘Hmm, a spirit. A
supernatural entity that watches over you and protects you.’
‘Do all humans
have this?’
‘No ah, well.
Hard to say.’
‘That is very
interesting.’ ,mused Isaac.
The day after
that Isaac brought up the Empire and Spiderspace again.
‘From overheard
transmissions I have learned this human phrase,’ he said, ‘The enemy of my
enemy is my friend.’
‘Sure yeah. Make
friends with a bunch of nasty evil super-alien spiders.’
‘Evil is a human
concept.’
Rewton sighed and
leaned back, ‘They can’t be reasoned with. Don’t let me stop you though. They
treat all other species as cattle. The pictures and newsreel I have seen.. I
mean, they recycle human dead and feed it back to them. Not just humans though,
other races too. Bread to be numerous and highly expendable. Working in mines,
on farms or bread to be soldiers. If population gets to high on a planet, they
just kill people off.’
‘That isn’t the
correct way to deal with sentient beings.’, contemplated Isaac.
‘You said it
pal.’
Rewton knew the
UP could only withstand the Empire partly because of the vastness of space, and
partly because of a slight technological edge on the side of the Terrans, but
if the Empire and the Illusians were to get together? That would be the end for
the UP wouldn’t it? He couldn’t see how they could fight two united enemies at
the same time. He groaned inwardly, there wasn't much he could do about that
where he was at the moment.
Another day,
another talk. Isaac lent back on his hind legs, something that Rewton had began
to think of as the Illusian version of how a human might lean back on a chair,
then said,
'So, explain to
my why we are at war?'
Rewton shrugged,
'Simple, you attacked us.'
'We attacked a
base they you established on a barren moon in a star system that we inhabit.'
'According to the
1414 treaty we had every right to be there.'
'A treaty we know
nothing about.’ replied Isaac
For about the
thousandth time, Rewton wished he had a cigarette.
'Well, this is
the way things happen. We are at war.', he said eventually.
Isaac
contemplated this for a while, then said,
‘Tell me about
the worm hole technology that allows you to travel faster than light.’
‘I don’t know
anything about that, I just fixed the chicken soup machines.’ Rewton lied.
‘You’re aware of
the dangers inherent in worm home travel?’
Rewton shrugged,
‘I don’t know.’
Isaac didn’t seem
to mind Rewton’s reticence, and in fact was willing to share some information
with his captive,
‘Illusian ships
use anti-matter drives to go at very nearly the speed of light. We do not bend
and crush the same way a human might under the forces of great gravity. The
expansion of our race has been slow, but up until now it has not seemed to
matter as we are very long lived.’
Rewton merely
nodded and Isaac continued,
‘Up until now,
that has not seemed to matter. But against a race like yours. Each unit is
short lived, but the whole is driven by an inexorable drive for expansion.’
Rewton smiled and
held out his hands in an apology, ‘It’s not my fault.’
‘Fault,’, replied
Isaac, ‘Yes. Something is at fault here.’
Isaac sometimes
seemed to talk to Rewton like he is a computer program he was trying to debug.
‘My superior as
been discussing with me the idea of dismantling you. He is of the opinion we
would would gain more information from you than by diagnostics.’
‘Oh really’,
gulped Rewton, ‘I.. I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘I agree’,
replied Isaac, ‘Communication through sound waves has revealed a lot to me over
the last week. Even so, there will come a time when we have discovered all
there is to know via this method. At some point we will need to reverse
engineer you. Goodbye.’
Isaac stood and
departed, leaving Rewton alone and very worried indeed.
‘Think man,
think’, said Rewton to himself, biting his fingernails as his cigarette
cravings hit hard.
He can lie, he
knew that. Isaac, and presumably all Illusians seemed to find it very hard to
tell the difference between the truth and a lie. They probably never lied to
each other, he could see it, in such a well organised society.
Rewton thought
back to the conversation’s he had had over the last week with his interrogator.
‘I really ,really
don’t like the idea of being reverse engineered.’
He thought over
all the conversations he had had with Isaac, surely there was something he
could use.
He leaned over
and opened a ration pack. There were some biscuits inside, they didn’t taste
great but they reminded him of his childhood. They were called ‘Berty’s
Originals’ although he had no idea why. They were sort of star shaped and
looked a little like a human with either four arms or wings. When he had been a
child they had all said how much the shape of the biscuits were like little
angels...
Rewton smiled, he
had had an idea.
Isaac entered to
find Rewton had been busy. The human had been drawing on the wall with
foodstuffs, a complicated circular design made from tomato sauce and chocolate
spread. The human sat under it, his legs crossed and his arms held out on his
knees, the index finger of each hand touching the thumb of the same hand. He
was emitting a low humming sound.
‘What are you
doing Rewton?’, asked the alien.
Rewton opened his
eyes and stopped humming,
‘I am
communicating with my Berty of course.’
‘What is a
Berty?’
‘My guardian
angel. It saved me, remember I told you?’
‘Your luck?’
‘Well yes. Now I
am asking my Berty to send help for me.’
‘It can do that?’
‘Of course.
Bertys are supernatural. They can travel space and time with ease. They are all
powerful.’
‘Is it here? I
cannot see it.’, said Isaac scanning the room with his six eyes.
‘Bertys are
invisible.’
‘I cannot detect
it by any means.’
‘Berty’s are
non-corporeal.’
‘I don’t
understand.’
‘Listen’, said
Rewton, making it all up as he went along. ‘All humans have two components.
They have a physical component, their body, and a supernatural component, their
Bert.’
‘You are faulty.’
‘No. You cannot
prove that what I am saying is not true. An invisible, non-corporeal entity
that can travel through space and time to aid its host body cannot be
disproved.’
‘You are correct.
Please stop communicating with your Berty now.’
‘Too late. I have
finished.’
Something
occurred to Isaac as he wrestled with the idea of truth and lies,
‘If what you said
is true, then why were you the only survivor of the Hermes? Didn't all the
other humans have Bertys?’
Rewton had to
think about that , ‘Ah.. they did. They were saved. That is why you found no
human remains.’
‘Yes. Or it could
have been because the ship was completely vaporised.’
‘It cannot be
proved either way then.’
Isaac paused for
a while, possible communicating with its fellow Illusians.
‘Goodbye.’ He
said finally and left the room.
Rewton fought the
urge to laugh, but let out a big sigh or relief none the less.
He hoped that
little performance was enough to keep them interested in him for a while
longer. Whenever the words ‘reverse engineer’ came up next he would make up something
else just as silly.
A week passed,
and Isaac did not come to see him. Rewton was beginning to think they had
forgotten him, but finally he got not one but two visitors. One was Isaac, whom
he recognised by his limb configuration and one was an Illusian he didn’t know.
Isaac placed a
small machine down on the floor of the room and an image flicked into life.
‘Please watch
this.’ ,he instructed.
Rewton saw what
looked like the bridge of a star ship with a human sat on a seat close up to
whatever was recording. He looked about in his fifties, was black haired and
had a pencil thin moustache.
An electronic
voice said,
‘You are
Ambassador Krinn of Terra?’
‘Yes I am.’
‘I am a
councillor of the Illusian Joint Committee for the Conduct of the War. You may
refer to me as Jacob.’
‘Right.’, said
the human curtly.
‘We have made
contact with you to discuss certain things of concern to both of our races.’
‘Go on then.’
‘We wish to
discuss the moon on the first system of..’
Here the
recording appeared to be cut because it obviously skipped forward. A lot
further forward in fact because Krinn seemed to need a shave, had obviously not
slept in a long time and was nervously smoking a cigarette butt that had nearly
gone out.
‘One more
question on human biology’, droned on Jacob, ‘Can you confirm that all humans
are part of a pairing between a physical body and a supernatural entity that is
both invisible and non-corporeal and that can travel through space and time.’
‘What?’
‘Known as a
Berty?’
‘You’ve lost me
there buddy.’
‘Or as a guardian
angel.’
Krinn’s face was
blank, but then it dawned on him and he smiled, ‘Ohhhh riiiight. Sure guardian
angels. We’ve all got them. Well known fact.’
Rewton watching,
had to stuff his fist into his mouth to stop laughing. He felt like if he ever
met Krinn he would give him a kiss.
‘Known to humans
perhaps. Illusians are purely physical beings. It has often been a point of
discussion by Illusian philosophers on the subject of the make up of biological
beings but we have never gathered any empirical evidence on the matter. We are
beings descended from machines, we know this, we know who made us, we know the
limits of our being. We do not know the limits of sentient biological beings.’
‘Right, well,
you’d better know about the .. ah.. pixies as well. They are like guardian
angels but they are not linked to every human .. they, ah, go around doing good
deeds.’
Careful thought
Rewton, don’t over do it. But Jacob seemed to be swallowing it.
‘Are pixies like
guardian angels?’
‘Very much so’
replied the Ambassador, ‘They serve a similar purpose.’
‘I see, what can
you tell us about..’
The recording was
cut here. Rewton looked up at Isaac.
‘Well?’, he said.
The other
Illusian spoke,
‘This information
has made the Joint Committee for the Conduct of the War reconsider its
strategy. We cannot conduct a war against beings that have a supernatural
component in their make up. It has been decided that a cease fire will be
offered to your military leaders and the terms of our surrender will be
discussed.’
Rewton went pale
and was almost quivering with excitement,
‘Really? And me?’
‘A U.P. ship is
already on its way to collect you.’
The unnamed
Illusian rose and left the room, Isaac stayed.
‘Really, Isaac? I
can go?’
‘Yes. When the
J.C.C. got independent verification of Bertys, they decided there were now too
many unknown factors and that pursuing a course of conflict was untenable.’
‘I’m.. I’m
amazed.’, said Rewton. He couldn’t believe his story had in effect stopped the entire
war.
‘Be glad. You and
I, we do not like to see killing. This is the best for both our races.’
Rewton looked the
alien in its six eyes, but could see nothing. No sarcasm or hidden meaning in
his words?
‘Do you.. I mean,
you personally, believe everything I said?’
‘Why would I
doubt you? What does it serve to make statements that are not true?’
Rewton pulled on
his lip, ‘Well, the war’s over for a start.’
‘I think that
answers your question admirably then. Please follow me. Would you like to see
the rest of the base before your fellows come to take you away?’
Sometime later
Rewton met Ambassador Krinn, as he boarded a diplomatic vessel that was taking
them back to Kochab.
‘Bertys huh?’,
grunted the Ambassador.
‘Pixies?’
‘Ha! What can I
say? You are the hero of the day though. You’ll have a big reward coming your
way.’
Rewton smiled and
said, ‘I would trade it all for one of those cigarettes in your top pocket.’
Krinn offered him
one and even lit it.
Rewton took a
long hard drag and blew a big cloud of smoke up into the gangway.
‘Don’t let the
captain catch you smoking here though, he’s pretty old fashioned about that
sort of thin.’
‘Reckon I’ve
earned it,’ replied Rewton in between puffs.
‘You think they
really fell for it. They believe in Bertys now I mean?’
‘I guess so. But
I think one of them, Isaac, was beginning to suspect. But I don’t think he
liked the war, so it suited him. Maybe they would have ended it anyway and I
was just in the right place at the right time.’
‘Maybe that was
just your Berty looking out for you?’, smirked the diplomat.
Rewton laughed,
‘You know, my mother always told me never to tell lies.’
‘Well, she’s
going to have a hard time swallowing this story I think. Come on, I’ll show you
to your cabin.’
