James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 07

by Yronwode

  As Rook, Jordan and the other warfighters laid down their weapons, the woman kept her defensive posture. “Where are your colonies located? In what sector? In what constellation?”

  “In the constellation of Pegasus,” Alkema answered. “We came here by means of a StarLock.”

  “Why were you sent here?” she repeated.

  “We are trying to make contact with the lost colonies of the Commonwealth,” Keeler answered. “It’s been almost 2,000 years. How have you been?” She remained fixed, her face stony and suspicious. “Do you have any intention of mediating our conflicts with the other inhabitants of this planet?” she asked.

  “Would you like us to?” Keeler asked.

  “No!” she answered emphatically.

  “Then, we have no intention of doing anything of the sort,” Keeler agreed. “The important thing is, we’re meeting new people.”

  The woman paused and spoke into the microphone that was affixed to her jaw.

  She waited until a reply came through her earpiece then ordered, “Wait here, do not move.”

  “That’s what we do best,” Keeler assured her, but by that time, she was walking away already. She left ten men pointing rifles at them.

  “So, how are you guys doing?” Keeler asked. “I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of visitors here. Or, maybe you do. Either way, we can leave if … if the alternative is getting shot.”

  The soldiers ignored him. The woman consulted with one of the men in her command, and seemed to come to an agreement with him. She returned with the other officer at her side. “We would like to search your ship.”

  “How about a tour,” Keeler offered. “We’ve got nothing to hide. Maybe you might even lower your weapons?”

  She gave a curt nod to her men, who promptly lowered their weapons. Keeler led her, the other officer, and a pair of her guards to inspect the interior of the Aves. The inspection was quite perfunctory. The guards poked around the main cabin and looked over the command deck. “Do you have any weapons or narcotics?” the woman asked.

  “What do you need?” Keeler asked.

  She didn’t seem amused. Her guards pulled at one of the doors to a weapons cache. Keeler was about to show them how to open it when they shrugged and decided to move on.

  “Would you like to see the cargo hold?” Keeler offered.

  “What is in it?” she asked.

  “Cargo,” Keeler answered.

  She cocked her head and listened again to orders coming through on her earpiece. “Acknowledged. The Security Ward is sending reinforcements to surround your ship with a military cordon. I have been ordered to take your people to the Security Ward Central Complex.”

  Keeler did not like the sound of that, but he hadn’t really expected to be taken the Drinks and Hospitality Ward. “You know, amidst all the hubbub, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. I am Prime Commander Keeler, you can call me Bill if it will make you less likely to shoot me.”

  “I am Lyana Strong,” she said, extending a hand. Keeler realized, she meant for him to grasp it, and when he did, she gripped it and moved it up and down.

  Weird, Keeler thought.

  When she let go, she led him out of the ship and into the daylight. He looked down the row of tall buildings lining the other side of the boulevard. A crowd had begun to collect, and were being held back by the local constabulary. Keeler asked, “What do you call this place?”

  “Xenthe,” the woman said. “The name of our city is Xenthe. And the name of this land is Midian.”

  “I meant the planet,” Keeler said. “Does this world have a name?”

  “Yronwode,” she told him. “This planet is called Yronwode.”

  “Whatever you call it, your city is impressive,” Keeler said. “We’ve visited a number of worlds, and its rare to see a human colony recovered to this level of technology.”

  “Most of Yronwode remains relatively uncivilized, despite our best efforts,” Strong explained. “You won’t find another city this … orderly … anywhere on the planet except here.”

  “How many people live in Xenthe?” Keeler asked.

  “One million, 800 thousands, and another 500 thousands in the Holy City of Xiyyon, which lies in the valley beyond those hills on the eastern side.” Keeler saw no hills, but he made a note of it. Keeler and the rest of the landing crew were escorted to back to the military transports, sandy brown vehicles that rode atop eight very large tires. Clamshell doors opened at the rear revealing eight small padded seats in the back. “Are we under arrest?” Keeler asked.

  “This is for our mutual protection,” Lyana Strong explained. “Midian Government vehicles are frequent targets of the Xirong.”

  ”The Xirong?” Keeler repeated. “Who are they?”

  “Their ancestors are the people our ancestors came here to help,” she explained. “Now, they want to exterminate us. Isn’t that a little ironic?”

  “Strictly speaking, as I understand the word ironic, neg. It’s just really, really sad.

  I should like to learn more of your history, in due time.” Keeler ducked his head and moved into the vehicle choosing a seat near the front.

  Strong took the seat facing him. It was at this time that Keeler got a really good look at her eyes. They were a deep, dark brown, and the pupil was not round, but consisted of three small vertical slits clustered at the center. “In any case, we have to go to extreme measures to protect from the Xirong,” she went on. “We thwart most of their horror attacks, but they keep trying.”

  “Are the Xirong at war with you? And what’s the deal with your eyes?” Keeler asked, as the rest of his crew boarded. Alkema and his crew boarded another vehicle, with remnants being put into third and fourth vehicles.

  “The stated reason for why the Xirong hate us is that we, or our ancestors, treated them badly and stole their land. It’s ferkakte. They control every other square meter of the planet outside the Midian Peninsula, and furthermore, we and our ancestors did more to help the Xirong than anyone else. And our ancestor’s eyes were genetically altered to cope with the intense sunlight. We carry that trait today.” Two Midian guards joined them and secured the doors. The engine rumbled, and with a lurch, the vehicle went into motion. “Why do you really think the Xirong hate you?” Keeler persisted.

  Lyana Strong seemed to warm to the topic. “Perhaps, we should start at the beginning. In the days of the Commonwealth, Yronwode was a prison planet. The worst criminals from every world in the quadrant were sent here. Every sector of the Old Commonwealth had a marginally inhabitable planet where they would maroon their undesirables, but Yronwode was reserved for the very worst: murderers, rapists, psychopaths, mad-scientists who tried and in some cases succeeded in taking over entire worlds.”

  “And you are their descendants?” Keeler guessed.

  Strong seemed offended, “No, our ancestors came here several centuries later, after the end of the Crusades. Our ancestors were missionaries. We were sent to redeem the souls of the sinners sentenced here.”

  “Or their descendants, anyway,” Keeler said. “Unless this planet somehow extended their life spans by hundreds of years…”

  “No, not at all, what made you think…”

  “It’s happened before,” Keeler said, waving her off. “Just… it’s really better if you don’t ask, okay. We’ll tell you later.”

  “Our ancestors were sent here under the Auspices of the Empire of the Holy Starcross, established by the Prophet Brian Kingman. When we arrived, the Xirong were divided into violent tribes of savages, living in a state of constant warfare…”

  “Much like today, apparently,” Keeler thought.

  “Our ancestors sought to redeem them, to turn them away from darkness by embracing the way of Starcross. Other religions came later, the Saintists, the Iestans and, much much later, Adherents to the Sect of the Holy Twins.”

  “The Xirong resented your ancestors proselytizing, and this led to war,” Keeler guessed as the truck turne
d and accelerated. Windows would have been nice. He would like to have seen the city he was being driven through.

  “No,” Strong said. “Although relatively few embraced one of the paths offered to them, for the most part we were able to coexist for many centuries. Occasionally, a settlement would be over-run, and there was always a low level of resentment because Redeemer communities were more orderly and prosperous than Xirong communities.

  But if you look at all the major Xirong cities, New Babillon, Djajanena, Izzan-Al-Izzan …

  all once had large populations of Redeemers. Today, none.”

  “Yeah, get to the part where they hate you,” Keeler prompted.

  Strong continued. “The trouble really began about three hundred years ago, when a Xirong Chieftain called Tsi told his people that the cause of their misery was the Redeemers. He was an anti-theist. He told them that false promises of spiritual redemption kept them in a state of poverty, violence, and misery. He stoked their resentments into a kind of blind hatred. He used the hatred to unite several bands of Xirong into a single tribe, the largest tribe of Xirong that had ever been. He led them in a war against the Redeemers. He over-ran several settlements and outposts. When he conquered a city, he would put any Redeemer to the Sword. It is in his honor that the most radical of the Xirong call themselves ‘ Tsi Bai, ’ meaning, Tsi’s People.” The truck grinded to a stop and held its position for just under a minute and a half. Keeler thought they had arrived, but then the truck began moving again.

  “What did the Redeemers do in response to the Tsi Bai attacks?” Keeler asked.

  “Some fought, but many felt that their spiritual beliefs precluded fighting. Those who fought, lived. Eventually, some of the other Chieftains realized that Tsi was a threat to their power. They formed an alliance, counter-attacked, and killed him. They wiped out most of his tribes. For a time, those Redeemers in the cities and settlements of the other Cheiftains felt safe.

  “But the Pontifex of the Starcross claimed he had received a vision that his people would not long be safe, and he led his people to the Midian peninsula, which at that time was a place of profound desolation. He founded Xiyyon, and proclaimed that only here would Redeemers be safe from persecution.

  “Many followed him. Many did not. In time, after a generation, some of the Xirong Chieftains recognized that Tsi’s philosophy of focusing hate against the Redeemers was quite powerful. It distracted the people from the chaos and disarray around them, from the corruption of the Xirong leadership, and gave them someone to blame.” As the truck navigated what felt like a gentle curve in the roadway, Keeler wondered what this version of history looked like from the Xirong side.

  “The Redeemers who remained behind suffered more attacks, and some of tribal Chieftains began demanding credits in exchange for ‘protection.’ If you paid off the Chieftain, he wouldn’t send his terror squads to burn your house and murder your family.”

  “How awful,” said Keeler. No worse than how humans had behaved on EdenWorld, he supposed, but still dreadful. And perhaps, given Yronwode’s origins and stated purpose, a side-effect to be expected.

  Strong continued. She maintained a military demeanor, but it was clear she felt it important to impress upon Keeler the savagery of the Xirong. “More and more Redeemers were driven out of the tribal lands. They moved to Midian because it was the only safe place. Many didn’t want to settle in Xiyyon, which was a strict Brianist Theocracy, so they built the twin city of Xenthe, which was an open city, where people could live according to their conscience.

  “Those that remained behind in the Xirong cities grew tired of the persecution, and began counter-attacks. They walled themselves off in protected enclaves, intending to hold out for as long as they could. And in some cases, the Xirong Chieftains were accepting of them, and accepted their assistance in holding off other, more dangerous tribes.”

  The truck squealed to another halt, but again, it was not at their final destination.

  When it began moving again, Keeler asked, “Why were you so concerned that we would try to mediate your dispute with the Xirong?”

  Her face grew stony. Clearly, this was something that angered her personally.

  “Two generations ago, we were visited by humanoid aliens who called themselves ‘the Kariad.’ They said they came from a distant, very advanced human colony. That they had overcome war and strife, and their mission was to help other human colonies achieve the same peace and equality they enjoyed.”

  Keeler did not like the sound of that, but Strong was back into his story before he could ask more.

  “Our people were so war-weary that we accepted their intervention eagerly.

  Eventually, some of the Xirong Chieftains were persuaded to join the negotiations as well.

  “Eventually, an accord emerged. Our people were to give up all property and territory in any land claimed by the Xirong. Our people were to assist in the economic, social, and cultural development of the Xirong. And the Xirong were to be permitted to live on the Midian Peninsula if they so chose. In return, the Xirong agreed to stop attacking us.”

  “Sounds like a good deal for the Xirong,” Keeler said.

  “At the time, we thought the promise of peace was worth it. Also, the Kariad provided both our people and the Xirong with technology, including the Collapsing Molecule System that powers our cities today.

  “But almost as soon as the Kariad left, the Xirong began fighting again…” At that moment, the can turned sharply, went over a bump, and up a long ramp.

  “We have arrived at the Jehoram, the headquarters for Midian government,” Strong announced. “They were going to call the High Council into session to meet with you, but you’ll probably have to wait for a while.”

  “We’re used to it,” Keeler assured her..

  Yronwode – Xenthe

  In fact, Keeler and the rest of his party waited almost six hours in a windowless room in itchy uncomfortable chairs while armed Midian guardsman watched over them.

  Occasionally, a person or a small group would enter through the large, heavy door at the front of the room, look over the people inside, engage in muted, conspiratorial conversation, then leave again.

  “If colonists from another planet showed up on Sapphire, would we treat them this way,” Keeler grumbled.

  Alkema tried to formulate the answer Keeler would have expected to hear. He was spared when the front door opened again and a heavy-set, vivacious woman flanked by two middle-aged men and two young guardsmen entered. “Greetings, all,” she announced in a loud, boisterous voice. “I am Councilor Steadfast of the Midian High Council. I wish to apologize for your inconvenience. Normally, Xentheans are known for our hospitality, and I regret that our manners have failed us. Come this way. The other councilors and ministers are waiting, and there is food.”

  “That’s how we would greet human colonists on Sapphire,” Keeler proclaimed.

  He strode quickly to the front and introduced himself to Councilor Steadfast and the others, each of whom repeated the grab-hand-move-up-and-down ritual.

  They were led from the holding room to a larger hall, where there was a table arranged with small sandwiches, clusters of fruits and vegetables, breads, creams, crunchy sticks, and few piles of red, amber, and green eggs.

  Keeler didn’t care if it looked weird. He made a tray of sandwiches and crunchy sticks and looked around for an open bar. Councilor Steadfast stayed close by and peppered him with questions.

  “How long have you been in space?” she asked.

  “About seven years,” Keeler answered.

  “How many colonies have you visited?” she asked.

  “Um,” Keeler munched on his sandwich as he counted. “Ten or twelve, depending on how you count. Some of them were dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Wiped out, failed…” Keeler said.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, sounding genuinely sad.

  “We would like to be finding Earth, if you had any informatio
n on that,” he asked, turning the conversation around.

  “Earth?” she said with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “Why would anyone want to go there?”

  “Well, we thought it might be fun, Earth being the birthplace of humanity,” Keeler explained.

  “Earth is the planet that all that survives of humanity left to get away from,” Steadfast sniffed. “’A world stripped of its resources, its land grown tired and desertified, its seas grown foul and lifeless with effluent.’ Testament of Lyana Sirovski, 25th Century. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Much of the history of Earth is lost to us,” Keeler explained.

  “There is not much to be lost,” Steadfast insisted. “In the 23rd Solar Century the Exodus began, when the first practical anti-gravity drives were developed. Those who had ambition and intelligence left Earth, and they took everything of value with them.

  Those that stayed behind were worthless and decadent.”

  “We’ve been told that when the Outer Colonies declared Independence, Earth tried to play both sides against each other,” Keeler told her.

  “Who told you that?”

  “General Ziang of the Eighth Crusade.”

  “Never heard of him,” Steadfast demurred. “Earth tried to remain neutral during the Early Periods of the Crusades, offering itself as a place where both sides could meet. They proposed impractical solutions to the conflict, mainly involving the colonies being ruled from Earth by a Parliament of Humanity. They had no idea, even then, how irrelevant they had become.”

  Getting back to the point, she continued. “There’s no reason for you to go there, except sentimentality. You’ll find nothing but an empty desert, polluted by centuries of industrial waste, denuded of life.”

  Keeler couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he munched a crunchy stick.

  It was refreshingly salty.

  Steadfast asked him. “When was your world colonized? What was the Solar Year.”

  “4242,” Keeler answered.

  “Ah, your colonization predates the rise of the Empire of the Holy Starcross,” Steadfast said. “Do you know of the Empire of the Holy Starcross?”