Into the Great Darkness

by George H Y Watson

  INTO THE GREAT DARKNESS

  By George H. Y. Watson.

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  Copyright George H.Y. Watson. Dec 2019 Amazon Edition.

  Cover Design by George H.Y. Watson.

  Cover Illustration ‘Saturn’ by Reimund Bertrams

  CONTENTS

  THE JELLIES

  From AgriPrime 1, the home planet of the Agri race the twelve Honourable Growers ran every aspect of their citizen’s lives throughout the immense Agri Empire.

  The Empire had developed rapidly for close to a thousand years, successfully driven by the twin beliefs; one, that long ago in ancient times ‘The Great Maker’ had decreed that the Agris had the supreme right to expand throughout the Great Darkness of the galaxy and two, that they were the only intelligent beings in existence. True, it could not be denied that lesser life forms existed but they were no more than ‘Infestations’ that at most hindered the seeding of the farming worlds that produced food to feed the clamouring trillions of the Agri Empire.

  Eventually, far out near the rim the Agris discovered a blue planet, only marginally useful for planting because it was mostly covered in water. Nevertheless, destroying the primitive culture on the world during seeding would make the Agris question their very existence and long held convictions...

  THE MOON RINGS

  Fifty three years ago during the first incursion by the alien warrior race of the Trills, his betrothed had disappeared. Now, as the long and costly conflict that Earth could endure no longer wound to a close and on the eve of a desperately needed peace treaty, he learned of her fate.

  ‘Hope springs eternal’ is an oft said adage. What is not often said is, ‘So does hate’.

  LETTERS FROM THE GREAT DARKNESS

  “After all this time, not even The Great Darkness itself can make me forget you”.

  THE OWC’s RETURN

  The suborning of local planetary leaders was well practiced by the Krellan Diplomatic Corps. Indeed it is this aspect of slavery/recruitment that enabled the ‘Empire of the Green Sun’ to effortlessly expand over several hundred years.

  Until Scout-Kaptain Drec, came upon a marginal planet out near the rim populated by the most savage creatures he had ever seen; It was called Earth, of course!

  Other books by the author.

  THE JELLIES

  BIRTH OF EMPIRE.

  Agri Home Planet.

  The PrimeAgri hovered over the upraised dais, looked over the assembled courtiers and inwardly sighed. He stole a glimpse through the palace windows to see the light brown disk of the sister planet, AgriMinor, hanging above the substantial palace walls that in turn kept the teeming populace at bay. And that was the seemingly insoluble problem to be looked at urgently, today. The very populace that fed voraciously and bred continuously because they believed it was their divine duty from The Great Maker.

  Inwardly PrimeAgri was despondent. What could be done? Nothing! Nothing until there was yet another feeding frenzy where the people lost all reason and turned to cannibalism until the survivors were sated and the madness abated. This had happened many times in the dark history of the Agri race and PrimeAgri knew it was the reason for the poor technological and cultural progress of their society. Indeed the Agris were only one or two feeding frenzies from total extinction.

  PrimeAgri had just received a population report from Quizar III, a brilliant scientist but a crude unkempt individual whom the majority of the courtiers disliked with a vengeance because he was nothing but an upstart and not even from a reputable nest! Indeed several times PrimeAgri had to stop assassination plots to end him.

  But reading the brilliantly researched report that stated the obvious, concluding that population density had reached the point where crop yields could not keep up etc. Soon there would be starvation with the accompanying food riots and feeding frenzies that had on some occasions in Agri history, turned to cannibalism, etc.

  ‘What can we do before we relapse yet again into savagery?’ he thought. What Indeed?

  To find a solution The PrimeAgri closed his eyestrip to inputs and silently prayed to The Great Maker for guidance. In the darkness of his brain stimulated by his twin nervous systems the thought came unbidden, ‘Open your eyestrip and look.’

  The Agri race were truly fortunate in their physical makeup; they had an eyestrip that encircled their head-globe that could receive from the Never Ending Universe every type of electromagnetic radiation possible, from below basic radio waves to the barely discernible radiation sectors after gamma rays.

  PrimeAgri began to rotate his head globe and hence his eyestrip to sample all wavelengths while also focusing on the assembled Agris below who noticed and became quiet. Quickly he located the ones who were timewasters, who would not present any hope but just waffle on, trying to sound important to elevate their courtly position.

  Next he came to those who actually believed they had a solution to the population problem. There were only a genuine few.

  There was Brindle IV, a dark soul who the PrimeAgri sensed, if allowed, would create and release capture squads and their infernal machinery to collect and deliberately kill millions of Agris in a part-genocide that the PrimeAgri could see would only serve to destroy the noble Agri soul forever. PrimeAgri made a mental note to have him ended.

  Next was Kinta V with his prototype craft that he boasted could travel sunwards to the very planet that could be seen through the palace windows, Agri Minor. But what could be the use of that? The planet was known from telescopic observations to possess some free water and local plant life but had a low pressure atmosphere that Agris could not live in comfortably.

  As if sensing the PrimeAgri’s scrutiny, Kinta V rushed to the front of the crowd and sprayed his fronds in the age old gesture that said he wished to address the PrimeAgri direct.

  Given permission, Kinta V spoke excitedly and in an unfortunately high squeaking voice, much to the amusement of everyone present, “My lord, I am hoping that my prototype vehicle could carry four Agri to Agri Minor and back.”

  “But to what purpose?” the PrimeAgri asked, tiredly.

  “To sow crops my Lord!”

  The assembled crowd roared with laughter and shouted many sarcastic insults at the stricken Kinta V.

  The PrimeAgri also thought that the outlandish concept was absurd and could already see several of those assembled were amused and were trying to contain their vindictive contempt for someone they regarded as a fool.

  PrimeAgri tried to be as accommodating as possible and addressed Kinta V with respect that helped to quieten the baying crowd, “Everyone knows that our native plants require a relatively high atmospheric pressure to grow. Jeda II, our head crop analyst has many times proved this.”

  Kinta V squeaked loudly, “And that brings me back to Jeda….He has developed some hybrid crop strains that he would like to try out on our sister planet.”

  Kinta V could not continue as the whole assembly erupted into peals of derision and laughter at the ridiculousness of yet another stupid idea!

  PrimeAgri watched as Kinta V desperately turned and beckoned someone from the rear of the crowd. At the same time the malevolent Brindle IV and his acolytes laughed loudest amongst each other.

  Kinta V had beckoned a shy Jeda II who was smaller than an average adult and struggled to s
queeze his way through the throng holding a large package in front of his eyestrip. As he finally got to the front, hoping to explain, a dark tentacle, no one ever found out whose, whipped out and caused him to cartwheel in the air.

  The result was better than Brindle IV expected! The little fool let go of the sack and its contents exploded into the room, filling the air with purple plant spores.

  PrimeAgri watched as spores settled upon everyone, himself included, to be automatically absorbed through the gelatinous head globe of the Agri body. Later the spores would be expelled naturally as waste by reverse osmosis, so it was not really that much of an inconvenience; however the room was in an uproar, the laughter dying quickly away to be replaced by outrage and annoyance beneath the spores that continued to rain down.

  Kinta V slowly floated away from the crowd towards the door, beaten. PrimeAgri could sense in him his genuine despair about what he considered a major technological advance being so frivolously discarded by self regarding fools like Brindle IV.

  With that perception rage exploded within the PrimeAgri and he rose and lashed out with his stingers, mortally wounding two in Brindle’s entourage. The room went quiet as the two dead Agri began to quickly degenerate.

  As if the idea came from The Great Maker himself, PrimeAgri beckoned to Kinta V, “Tomorrow you have my permission to fly your vessel to and land upon AgriMinor and you will take Brindle IV with you!”

  Kinta V trembled momentarily before regaining his composure, his spirits soaring, “Yes my lord! I can also assure you of Lord Brindle’s safety!”

  PrimeAgri laughed darkly, “No such assurance is asked for.”

  The gelatinous skin of the bully that was Lord Brindle went visibly green with fear, a fact that was not lost on Kinta V, “Why, Lord Brindle you may sit behind Jeda II and I as an assistant crop seeder!”

  The following day PrimeAgri was not at the launching of the prototype ‘spaceship’, as Kinta V liked to call the machine, because other more important matters had to be attended to. There had been a food riot in one of the outlying districts and the Police Marshalls had found evidence of cannibalism. At the same time in the outskirts of the capital, starvation was once again abroad.

  The cold tendrils of despair once again gripped the PrimeAgri because like the PrimeAgris before him, he could not see a solution. The basis of the Agri culture was a belief that long ago the race had been given the supreme right to feed and reproduce without impedance by The Great Maker himself when he first walked upon Agri Prime in ancient times. This was the problem and could not be changed.

  If only we had more room or food, things would not be so bad, thought PrimeAgri before spiralling down into the familiar dark place of hopelessness once again. He closed his eyestrip down until no radiation from the Everlasting Universe could reach him. Time became meaningless because there was no solution to lighten the predicament the Agris found themselves in, only starvation and racial death.

  Darkness, then grayness then shadows. Someone was shaking his fronds to bring him back to consciousness. PrimeAgri groaned.

  It was the Chamberlain and he was shouting, “PrimeAgri, Kinta V’s spaceship is back!”

  PrimeAgri tried to retreat into darkness again, but received further shakes, some quite violent and mumbled a despairing “It’s hopeless.”

  “No PrimeAgri, it is not! Come with me, it might be good news for a change!”

  He allowed himself to come back from the depths and to full awareness during his journey to Kinta V’s facility in the Official State Ground car. He dimly noticed that a sizeable portion of land had been cleared of crops to allow for the glide-in of the spaceship.

  When PrimeAgri exited the ground car he was greeted by the sight of a pock-marked and no longer shining spaceship that would never fly again. The beautiful pointed body with its graceful wings was burnt into ugliness and hatches hung open where they had been urgently flung after the craft had halted. It looked like the enterprise had failed until he saw a small group of Agris joyously colliding with each other as they removed their pressure suits.

  As if sensing the PrimeAgri, a blackened and slightly singed Kinta V turned and came to splay his tentacles, “My Lord.”

  Not expecting much. PrimeAgri said, “Tell me.”

  “We skimmed the lower atmosphere of AgriMinor without landing whilst Jeda II and the late Lord Brindle began to load the prototype seeds into the ejector.”

  “The late Lord Brindle?”

  Kinta V was clearly uncomfortable and anxious that he be blamed for what was nearly a genuine accident, “Due to the, ah, ‘accident’ in your throne room where the seeds were released into the air, I had Jeda II remove several latent seeds that were still in our skins as we journeyed to AgriMinor. He must have missed several of Lord Brindle’s…”

  “And?”

  “Due to the low pressure atmosphere and sunlight the prototype seeds began rapid growth….”

  PrimeAgri looked into Kinta V’s mind and saw the event. Lord Brindle had died a painful and tortuous death as the seeds sprouted, consuming his inner elements as they burst through his outer skin. He found he was strangely satisfied. “And what of the rest of the sowing?”

  At this juncture, Jeda II floated over, barely capable of containing his jubilation and nearly forgetting to splay his tentacles before the PrimeAgri. He answered for Kinta V by pointing up into the sky as AgriMinor came above the horizon.

  PrimeAgri looked and once he understood what he was looking at he felt a small spark of hope for the Agri race alight in his soul. The always constant brown disk of AgriMinor was slowly developing purple spots of rapid growth vegetation. He suddenly realized that more ‘Spaceships’ would need to be built to establish farms on AgriMinor and if The Great Maker indeed smiled upon the Agri race other more distant planets would be ‘Seeded’ too.

  The PrimeAgri opened his eyestrip to all radiations of the Everlasting Galaxy and foresaw what would be achieved; an enormous Agri empire would stretch throughout the Great Darkness following the eternal wishes of The Great Maker! The Agri people would experience great triumph and everlasting glory!

  The Great Maker had said in ancient times that there was no other race but Agri, so for the PrimeAgri at that pivotal moment in history the possibility that there might be other races of beings hiding in the Great Darkness on undiscovered worlds never occurred to him.

  THE ALIEN SMILE

  One evening long ago near the Orion Spur, a fleet of over four hundred space-faring vessels prepared to leave the orbit of the 4,870th inhabited planet of the Agri Empire. The armada filled the evening sky with artificial stars that drew larger crowds than usual from the populace below, all eager to enjoy the spectacle of massed plasma engines igniting in low orbit.

  The Agris, with their head-globes pulsating to achieve and maintain height floated gently in the low atmosphere just above the planet-city. The chemical process that allowed them to drift in the dense atmosphere also produced a faint incandescence that shone from the gelatinous mass of their bodies, illuminating their long sinuous tentacles trailing behind.

  Finally the powerful vessels burst into light above the floating population, eclipsing in brilliance the nearby binary moons. At ground level there was little movement amongst the endless buildings except one faint glow that raced through the streets towards the largest dome of all, the Palace of The Honourable Growers and unknowingly, The End of Empire.

  I am Quembeen VI, once a Security Marshall in the Capital of AgriPrime 4870, but no more. I am now reduced to sheltering amongst the shattered buildings of this destroyed city, on this alien world waiting for the terrible winds to abate so I can seek out food amongst the sparse local vegetation.

  When I think of AgriPrime 4870 I can now see clearly that my fall from grace was unavoidable, beginning that fateful evening when I was summoned from my duty post at the Seeder Field. I was young and conscientious about my duties in those days and regarded it as important work, being responsible fo
r the security and operation of the field repulsors that kept the large open space free of floating Agris. This in turn allowed the trouble free operation of our large fleet of orbital shuttles that flew up to load the Seeder Fleets. Unfortunately it was the Grand Marshall himself who insisted that I attend to some problem at the Palace of The Honourable Growers, that I was certain would turn out to be trivial.

  Above me in the evening sky hundreds of space vessels lit up the heavens when they all simultaneously leapt into The Great Darkness. The seed pods that filled their towing frames would be transported to some newly discovered agricultural planet and released where they would grow rapidly, overcoming the native flora and fauna. In a very short time indeed there would be a harvest available to help feed the ever-increasing populace of the Agri Empire.

  Glory Be to the Maker!

  I had hastened to the Palace of the Honourable Growers, flexing my head globe rapidly to propel me in the dense gaseous atmosphere necessary for our kind. A few citizens moving along the almost empty streets saw my badge of rank and made way. My tentacles trailed behind me, stinging cells hidden amongst them, but ready to strike if required; this was apparently an emergency and I was empowered to use deadly force if necessary. I must admit that the blasphemous notion occurred to me yet again that one less citizen would not be missed from the tetra-billions that crowded the planet!

  A Palace door opened at my approach and I was pulled inside by two ageing retainers who secured the entrance behind me.

  “This way Your Honour,” said one, gesturing with a tentacle in the direction of the inner temple where common Agris were never allowed and where only the twelve Honourable Growers resided.

  It was here that the Honourable Growers often determined the fate of the tetra-billions of Agris, by deciding which planets to seed. It was very important work because if the wrong planets were chosen, then the food returns would be poor and the god-given right of we, the Agri people, to reproduce and feed without limit would be curtailed!