Charles aimed a firm nod at his friend. “Yes, I am. The Shang did tell us that they are our gods. They did tell us that they have returned. I have seen the proof that they told us that. Either they are telling us the truth, or they are lying. I intend to find out which.”
John set his teeth and looked up at the cross. “If they were lying, then our course is pretty clear. We tell them to stuff it, right?”
Charles smiled as the shadow of the man John had once been slipped through the calm pastoral form he took now. “Right.”
John turned back to him with a grim look. “The other possibility is a bit more tricky.”
Charles met his look without any hesitation. “That is a profound understatement.”
John sighed. “And you’re here, talking to me, because you’re looking for…what…guidance? From me?”
Charles smiled and pulled in a deep breath before answering. “Yes.”
John turned to Dorothy. “You have anything to add to this conversation?”
Dorothy shook her head. “I am sorry. I do not know.”
John frowned and aimed a long, considering look at her. “Aren’t you a cyber?”
Dorothy smiled again. “I am. But I was born Terran, so what I remember is Terran history, not Peloran. I am not…cleared to know the Peloran histories. I could ask the Peloran members of my family, but…I would receive the same answer anybody else gets when they ask.”
“No answer at all,” Charles supplied when John looked curious. “They neither confirm nor deny any question about our past, saying that it is our history and our task to learn it.”
John scratched his chin. “That does match my experience with them,” he said with a nod of his head.
“The difficulty is that we only know the aliens who have come to us. We cannot travel to them. Our hyperdrives cannot travel that far, and Peloran hyperdrives are…hard to acquire even for my family.”
“So we can’t go to them and study their own histories?” John asked, a look of interest behind his eyes.
“Exactly,” Charles returned. “The Peloran make it more difficult by not using race names like we are used to. They use names based on who people came from. To them, I am Charles of William, not Charles Edward Hurst. The Albion were the People of Danaan, which some of our mythologies recognize. The Peloran are the People of Govaan, which does not seem familiar. The Arnam have their own name too, which is also unfamiliar. Though I have found that to them we are the People of Awdaan.”
“Adam,” John whispered, a thread of pleasure in his voice.
Charles smiled at the slim thread he’d given his friend. “Presumably.”
John frowned. “So do they call the Chinese that?”
Charles frowned as well. “As a race, yes, but from a cultural perspective, they are called the People of Huang. He was the first great Chinese Emperor who united China.”
“Interesting. So what do they call us?”
Charles smiled. “The People of Washington.”
John chuckled. “I should have seen that coming, I suppose.”
“Yes, you should have,” Charles said with an answering chuckle.
John clicked his tongue against his teeth in deep thought. “It occurs to me that naming a people like that would require a deep understanding of their history. It could take some time to develop that.”
Charles smiled again, glad to see the mind of his friend fully engaged in the discussion. “Yes. Do you remember that Aneerin spoke perfect English and several other languages when he made Contact? They were obviously watching us long enough to learn our languages. Now I have a theory that they may have been watching us at least as far back as the twentieth century, but it’s just a theory that matches some questionable reports from the past with what we know now..”
John chewed his lower lip. “Tell me.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard of the Foo Fighters?”
John gave him a confused look. “The rock band?”
Charles coughed to disguise a laugh. “The things the rock band named themselves after.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “No, I haven’t.”
Charles pulled in a deep breath. “Back during World War II, there were…reports from Allied and German pilots of craft that flew in formation with them. The Allies called them Foo Fighters because they couldn’t figure out what they were.” Charles shrugged. “They actually had another word on the front, but you probably don’t want me saying it here,” he said with a wink.
John chuckled. “I’ll trust your instincts on that.”
Charles gave him an innocent shrug. “Well, these Foo Fighters never opened fire on either side, they just flew with them for a while, matched every move the pilots of the time tried, and then flashed away whenever they felt like it. They did things only a craft with gravitic controls could manage. Now these are just reports and stories, but…they were usually cigar-shaped, almost always with small fins or wings.”
John’s eyes widened and he rubbed his jaw in thought. “Cigar-shaped?”
Charles nodded. “A big long tube with some fins for weapons or wings.” Charles lifted one hand up. “Now most reports had them as silver, not white, but I’m betting you recognize the shape.”
“The Peloran,” John supplied.
“The Peloran,” Charles agreed.
“Damn. Sorry, Lord,” he said with another glance at the cross.
Charles shook his head. “If those reports were real and it really was the Peloran…”
“How much longer have they been watching us?” John filled in after Charles trailed off.
Charles raised one finger. “Exactly.”
John shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems like a mouthful to accept.”
Charles shrugged. “Arthur C. Clark said it long ago. Advanced enough technology will look like magic to someone who does not recognize it.”
John nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense, and I can even see it, from a theoretical point of view of course,” he noted with a stern look.
Charles smiled, accepting the conditions of the argument with good grace.
John cleared his throat. “What I’m wondering about is…why did they leave?”
Charles blinked in confusion. John had just completely lost him. “What?”
John sighed. “Let’s put it this way. If you were a great and all powerful alien who is worshiped as a god, would you let some crazy cult show up and take all your believers from you? And then spread out to all corners of the world, and beyond?”
Charles cleared his throat and looked up at the cross. It was a good point. “Look, we know the Albion died so that explains that. As for the rest? Well…the Peloran talk as if civilization died with the Albion. Trade of goods and information alike. Thousands of systems were destroyed, countless ships, and even they cannot begin to calculate how many people died. Maybe everybody stopped coming here.”
John shook his head. “No. I don’t buy that. Even one ship that came to Earth even a hundred years ago could have easily ruled us all. One survivor of that war could have lived as a god here. And if they’d been here before, they’d know how to get here.”
“That’s a good point,” Charles whispered. He let out a long breath and chewed his lower lip. “You may not like this, but a couple thousand years ago we did have a pretty important person show up and say he was the Son of God.”
John shook his head again. “You’re right. I don’t like that idea.”
“I’m just taking the discussion to the end point,” Charles said with an apologetic smile.
John smiled back. “I know. But I mean there is an actual problem with the idea. And not just from a reactionary theologian,” he added with a wink.
Charles relaxed back into the pew and waved for John to continue.
John licked his lips. “If God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit were just some alien space traveler playing with the local population, why haven’t they returned? Face it, Chuck, a glowing man float
ing down from the sky would be an easy illusion to generate with Peloran technology. Even now, most of us would probably fall for it, but realistically they should have pulled it two or three centuries ago at the latest. After World War II or the Second Great Depression would have been the times to do it. The Peloran have the tech to pull it off but they didn’t try. If what you say is accurate, the Shang did try it, but only after the Peloran made Contact so it didn’t stick. Why didn’t they try earlier, when it might have worked? If they’ve been coming here for thousands of years, why not take advantage of those times to show everybody that the old gods have true power? Christianity would have had some real hard times expanding into many of the places we did if the locals could point to things they’d actually seen their gods do in their own lifetimes.”
Charles rubbed his chin and nodded. “You have got some good points.” He shook his head. “You know this better than I, but Jesus’ teachings were not big on taking power and ruling people, were they?”
John chuckled. “No. They weren’t. More like being better people. Being nice to people. Helping when they need it. Not judging. Not what I’d expect an alien with delusions of grandeur wanting people to worship him would talk about.”
“Indeed,” Charles said with a smile.
“Teachings like that don’t gain some alien who doesn’t know us a thing as far as I can tell. But someone who already knows us and wants us to become better? That is someone who would say those things.”
“True,” Charles said slowly.
John smiled. “So, did you really come here for an academic discussion?”
Charles sighed and shook his head. “Not really. Look, I do not know what to do. I know what my family wants me to do. But I just do not think I can…” he trailed off and chewed his lower lip.
John nodded and patted his friend’s shoulder. “We all have those moments, Chuck. I had mine five years ago.” He smiled. “And see where I am now. Look, there’re a lot of people who think they have the power and the right to rule us like gods, to demand our worship, our offerings, and our sacrifices. I do not say they have no power. I say they aren’t worthy of us standing with them.”
“Smart,” Charles said with a nod.
John smiled. “Let’s accept that the Shang tried to get us to follow them. We said no. They smote us. We’re still standing. A hundred years ago, we never could have stood against them. But today, the Peloran stand with us. Why? What do they gain from fighting with us? What have they asked in return?”
Charles smiled. “So far, just me.”
John blinked and pulled back in confusion.
Charles’ smile grew and he decided to explain. “The Cowboys. We fly off the Guardian Light. Aneerin asked for that after the Battle of Fort London.”
John smiled in understanding and steepled his fingers, considering things for several seconds before answering. “What does he gain by doing that?”
“Well, he has taken heavy losses in his fighter groups, so we are helping to keep his squadron in the war.”
“Yes, that would be the foremost reason, the public reason, the reason that can be sent to the media so everything can look good to the civilians. Do you know another reason?”
Charles pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. Perhaps…understanding? I have learned more about them in the last month than the rest of my life put together.”
John shook his head. “That is how it helps you. How does it help him?”
“Well,” Charles began, considering the question very carefully. “It is possible that us understanding him is important to him.”
“True. Do you want to bank our survival on that guess?” John asked with a frown.
Charles scratched his chin. “No.”
“Good. I only see one source of action here, Chuck,” John said with a nod of approval. “If what you say is true, we know what the Shang want. They want us to serve them. We don’t know what the Roderan want, but they don’t seem to get involved much. We know what the Peloran say they want. Friendship. But is that true? They have serious power. We have to know if they really are here to help us or if they are making us dependent on them and all of their technologies before taking us over,” he finished with a nod towards Dorothy.
“Now hang on,” Charles said, anger that he would suggest that about his partner boiling up.
Dorothy placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped.
“He makes a good point,” she said in a calming tone.
Charles growled under his breath, not mollified.
John licked his lips and looked between the two for a second. Charles recognized the concern in his friend’s face, but John shook his head and it cleared.
“I’m sorry Charles, but it had to be said, assuming we really are going to the end points of this discussion.”
Charles growled again, but finally nodded in reluctant agreement. “Agreed,” he said in a low tone that said he disagreed, no matter what words he was using.
John reached his hand behind the pew and pulled a Bible up. “Good. Now you have to find out what they want. Really want. And you are in a good position to do that. Take this with you.”
Charles gave a firm shake of his head. “You know I do not believe.”
“I know,” John said with a smile. “But if you truly want to study about gods and men, you really have to study some of the source material.”
Charles looked at it doubtfully. “I suppose. But I can get a portable copy for study.”
John chuckled. “Ah, but I practice throwing a real book at people when they need it. Real paper and leather makes an impact that electrons never will. Take it, Chuck. Read it. There’s a lot of information in these pages that can be helpful, even if you don’t believe. A favor for an old friend.”
Charles shifted uncomfortably on the pew and looked at Dorothy.
She shifted her head to the side and smiled, signaling her agreement.
Charles sighed and reached to take the Bible out of John’s hands. He shook his head and looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “So if I am looking for information on gods and aliens in this, where would I start?”
John laughed and tapped the leather cover with one finger. “Why, ‘In the beginning’ of course.”
Charles shook his head and pushed himself up onto his feet. “Right. I should have seen that coming.”
“Yes. You should have,” John said with a smile. Then he turned serious. “He’ll know you came.”
Charles blinked at the change in subject, then nodded. There was really only one “He” when it came to his family. “Yes.”
John looked grim. “He won’t be happy.”
“No, I don’t suppose He will be,” Charles returned with a sigh.
John put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “If your family is as involved as you seem to think, he may force you to choose between family and the investigation. If that happens…”
Charles placed his hand on top of John’s and smiled. “I know who to call.” Very few people had the resources to anger his father and not disappear afterwards. John was one of those very few. He hadn’t always been a shepherd of men after all.
John smiled. “Good. Now get going, old friend. You have work to do.”
Charles rose to his feet with a smile of his own. “Yes, I do, old friend.”
Hello, my name is Jack. I learned long ago that it is the chance encounters, the unplanned meetings, that will forever dominate our lives. We can plan all we want what we will do when the ground is perfectly laid out for us. But what do we do when we can’t plan? What do we do when life hits us upside the head and we don’t have time to think it through? We react. Our life is made of those reactions, those reflexes.
Reflex
“Ten!” the crowd shouted.
Lights shown down on the crowd, playing every color of the rainbow across the shadows filling the dance hall.
“Nine!”
The light cans spun to focus on a single point in the air, leaving the
crowd in darkness.
“Eight!”
A ball of pure glittering light appeared where the lights focused, hovering ten meters above the floor.
“Seven!”
The ball began to lower towards the floor.
“Six!”
The lights spun back to light the crowd, creating living shadows of every color.
“Five!”
The lights cut out, leaving only the falling ball to light the room.
“Four!”
The light began to pulse on and off, causing shadows to appear and disappear between each pulse.
“Three!”
The light fell below head level and the strobing shadows of people seemed to teleport from place to place between flashes of light.
“Two!”
The ball pulsed on and off faster and faster until it was a constant flicker of light almost too fast for the mind to make sense of it.
“One!”
The light cut out, leaving the room in total darkness. Only the leftover strobe effect of phantom lights remained in the eyes of the crowd.
“Happy New Year!” the crowd shouted.
Fireworks exploded into life, shooting through the crowd with trails of flame and sparkling heads. Jack blinked his eyes against the light and a firework shot through him. He spun to see it explode behind him, surrounding Betty and Jasmine in a halo of crackling fire. The light cans came alive again, strobing multicolored beams into the crowd in time with the holographic fireworks and the music that came with it.
People laughed and cheered and danced all over the floor. People threw their hats and multicolored scarves into the air. Scores of boys and girls enjoyed their first kisses of the New Year in joyful celebration.
A flash of red caught his eyes and he braced barely in time before a young woman he certainly did not know embraced and kissed him with laughing lips. She wasn’t really kissing him, just the first man she’d run into. Or given her speed, maybe he was the second or third. Well, whatever the case, he certainly couldn’t have people kissing him when they weren’t even kissing him. That just wasn’t right.
He placed one hand behind her lower back, cradled her curly red head with his other hand, leaned in, and proceeded to bestow on her a very thorough kissing. Bright green eyes shot open in surprise and she struggled, hands turning to fists and moving between their bodies. Her mouth opened in protest and he smiled as the freckles on her pale cheeks flushed bright in a growing expression of outrage. He placed a foot behind her and stepped forward in a dance move he’d learned years ago. He held her in his arms as she fell backwards and her protest turned into a squeak of shock.
Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Page 20
