He paused, and the president waited for him to begin again. After a long pause, Arges began talking quietly. “For over 10,000 years, we have led the Alliance of Civilizations and have ensured peace in this galaxy. There are many other races, of which we are just one. Some are naturally caring, what you would call ‘good;’ others you would probably consider to be ‘bad’ or ‘evil.’ Most, like your own race, lie somewhere in between. You are capable of great deeds, but also capable of inflicting misery on others of your own race when you have power over them.”
“Most of these races formed an alliance many millennia ago, and the races that are less benevolent were prohibited from interacting with civilizations that were just forming, like your own. Those days are over. The alliance that has watched over developing civilizations is no more. There are many races, like the Drakul, that now have free reign among the galaxy.”
“Wait a minute,” said President Jacobs. “You’re telling me that I had to bust my ass to put together a world government just to find out that we don’t have a chance?”
“Yes,” said Arges. “For two reasons. The first is that our rules really do prohibit transferring any technology to you without a world government, so you needed to have one for that. The other is that we’ve done an enormous amount of computer modeling on the future of this planet. In all of the scenarios where you didn’t have a world government, your planet didn’t survive another 25 years. You need a unified government in order to have any sort of a chance in the coming times. Our time is past. Our civilization is done. The alliance is crumbling and, like your Rome, the barbarians are at the gates. The races that were banished or that fled from civilized space have returned and are gobbling up systems on the periphery.”
“So...” said the president, “we are screwed.”
“No,” said Arges, “you definitely have a small chance. I believe the saying in your ‘poker’ card game is that we’re now ‘all in’ with you. Everything we know, we will pass on to you, without further delay. While we abhor killing and combat as a rule, we do not want to watch your species be destroyed by some of the other races that currently exist in the galaxy. We will give you all of our technology and knowledge. If you can reach one of the other good races, you may also gain additional technological and industrial opportunities. And even if you are unable to get outside assistance, it is a time of great deeds. Your heroes have arisen.”
“Heroes?” asked the president. “What do you mean, ‘heroes’?”
Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, April 2, 2020
“That is so cool,” said Sara, looking out the bridge viewer as the Vella Gulf orbited the Earth conducting cleanup patrol. The amount of space debris had gotten to be so overwhelming around the Earth that it was becoming a chore to fly through. Captain Deutch had volunteered as his last duty to clean it up a little. The Gulf was going to make a few orbits and burn up as much of it as was possible with the ship’s defensive lasers. If it also gave him a few more hours in command, so much the better. He was really going to miss this.
“Never thought that you’d be up in space looking at the Earth?” asked Calvin.
“What do you think?” Sara asked. “Of course not. Most art majors don’t make it into space, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
They watched in companionable silence as the ship continued to burn up space rubbish. Every once in a while, a laser would hit something with a little fuel still in it, and it would make a small fireball that immediately disappeared.
“Whoa,” said Sara suddenly. “Wow, big case of deja vu.”
“When you say you have a feeling of deja vu, you are saying that you feel like you have been someplace before, correct?” Steropes asked.
“Well, yes, that’s what it means,” said Calvin.
“In most cases,” replied Arges, “we believe that means that someone in your timeline has been there before.”
“I don’t understand,” said Sara, looking confused. “How could someone in my past have been here before, looking down on the planet?”
“That statement makes several assumptions,” began Arges, taking on his lecturing tone. “First, you assume that what you felt was this ship. It is very possible that you were on this class of ship, as thousands were built when the Eldive were still alive. Second, you also assume that the feeling came from looking at this planet. There are, in fact, more planets than can easily be counted. While only a small percentage of them are at all Earth-like, a small percentage of an infinite amount still gives many instances of Earth-like planets. Perhaps you were on an exploratory team somewhere else in the cosmos and found an Earth-like planet that was so close to this one that it made a strong impression on you, causing the deja vu feeling now.” Arges paused.
“And the other reason,” Steropes urged.
Arges gave a small, very human, shrug. “Finally, it may not have happened in the past,” he finished.
“Wha…what?” asked Sara. “What do you mean that it ‘might not have happened in the past?”
Arges frowned. “Our conceptualization of time is not the same as yours. While you see time as moving in one direction, like a river that is flowing too quickly to go back, we see it as a tapestry, where events are not necessarily so linear in nature. Actually, it is precisely because of events like this that we don’t believe time to be linear. There have been many instances where people had deja vu experiences where it was impossible for them to have been there in a previous life. If both of those data points are accurate, then the feeling must have been at some point in a future life and they are experiencing echoes of it now.”
“Are you saying that time travel is possible?” asked Calvin.
Arges nodded. “Can you prove that it is not?” he asked.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Conference Room, DUCC, Washington, DC, April 7, 2020
“So, what did Arges mean by ‘heroes’?” asked the Secretary of Commerce.
“He tried to explain it to me, but I still don’t get it,” answered the president. “He said that every time societal upheaval has happened before, there have been some sort of leaders, he called them ‘heroes,’ that came to the forefront and led their civilizations back from the brink of anarchy. He thinks that some of the members of Calvin’s platoon are these people reborn.”
“So, from some cosmic sort of perspective, it’s preordained that we’re going to win?” asked the Secretary of the Air Force, with a look of hope in his eyes. “The good guys always win?”
“No,” replied the president, “even if you believe this whole hocus pocus magic that some sort of heroes show up when needed, Arges said that good doesn’t always win. In fact, they used to have some sort of box that allowed them to see into other universes. In many of these, the ‘good’ civilizations have won and are still in existence. But in others, the ‘bad guys’ won. Arges also said that in one universe, the Milky Way didn’t exist anymore.”
“What?” asked the science advisor. “What do you mean, it didn’t exist?”
“I mean that it was completely destroyed,” answered the president. “It was just gone. 300 million star systems, all just gone.”
“That’s impossible...” said the science advisor. “What could do that?”
“They don’t know,” said the president, “but Arges said that he would greatly like to avoid that happening in this universe.”
“Yeah, me too,” muttered the science advisor.
“So, what’s the deal with these heroes?” asked the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“I don’t know,” said the president. “Arges was very vague. He just said, ‘they rise.’”
“Do you believe that?” asked the Chairman.
The president shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like wishful thinking to me. Arges believes it, though, as do the other two Psiclopes. They all believe that there is an all-powerful being or force that watches over us.”
“God?” asked science advisor.
>
“It could be,” said the president. “I asked the same question. He didn’t want to say ‘yes,’ but he also didn’t want to rule it out, either. But he did say that the being wasn’t entirely focused on ‘the good guys always win;’ in some universes, the bad races won in the end.”
National Assembly Building, Abuja, Nigeria, April 10, 2020
“I would personally like to thank everyone for coming today,” welcomed the German Luftwaffe general, Heinrich Gottlieb. Calvin looked down the long table that held the personnel review board. In addition to the German that was the board’s chairman, there was also a representative from all of the original members of the world government: the United States, Canada, Japan, South Korea, Italy, the United Kingdom, Germany, Chile, India, Australia and the host country of Nigeria. This was the second board for all of them, as the same admirals and generals had met several months previously. The Vella Gulf’s squadron had sustained a number of losses on its first mission and they had met to fill them. “I would also like to thank Lieutenant Commander Hobbs for making time in his busy schedule to be here today,” Gottlieb continued. “I know his experience will be able to add much insight into the selection process.”
Today’s board would probably be more challenging, Calvin knew, as many of the new nations were also in attendance. He expected all of them to jockey for positions in both the squadron and in the platoon. Russia would certainly expect to be compensated for its support of the process, he had been advised, and he knew that the Israelis would expect to be included, as well. It was one thing to say that the new government would be inclusive in front of the media; Calvin expected that it was going to be much harder trying to get the nations to actually work as one. He sighed, wishing he could be anywhere else. Preferably off planet, several stargates away.
“I would also like to thank the Government of Nigeria for allowing us to use this wonderful facility today,” General Gottlieb continued. The new Terran Government Headquarters building was not complete yet, but the government couldn’t wait for it. The new government had a multitude of issues that it needed to resolve so, in the interim, the president of Nigeria had allowed them to use the National Assembly Building, located close to where the new headquarters was being built.
“As most of you are aware,” Gottlieb advised, “this is the second meeting of this personnel board. We met one time previously to fill the losses the squadron sustained in combat. The purpose of this meeting today is to expand the manning of the space fighter squadron and to fill in the losses sustained by the platoon.”
Calvin thought back to the first mission. It had been a difficult one. Not only had they lost three space fighter crews (and their precious ships) in action against the Ssselipsssiss, they had also left a shuttle and a crew behind on Epsilon Eridani to help the ambassador there. Half of the crews that had initially been implanted were no longer with the squadron. As more of the shuttles had been built, it had been necessary to select new flight crews, or they wouldn’t have been able to fly half the number of shuttle missions that they currently were. It had been decided at the first board to allow the countries to replace their losses in the squadron and to expand the squadron to 10 flight crews, adding a Nigerian crew, an Australian pilot and a German weapon systems officer.
The Russian general raised his hand, and Calvin sighed again. They hadn’t even started, and it looked like the jockeying was starting. “I assume that we will be filling the positions based on the populations of the contributing nations?” asked the Russian. Of course he would assume that, Calvin thought. Russia was the only one of the 10 largest nations in the world that didn’t have anyone in either organization. If selection was done by size, they would be able to fill most of the open positions. Nations like Israel, ranked 96th in the world in population, would be effectively shut out of the discussion.
The Israeli general immediately raised his hand. Seeing it, the chairman said, “Let us try to remember that the future of our race rests on the two units that we are manning. The entire human race depends on our decisions.” He raised his voice. “I will not allow this board to descend into partisan politics. We must be above it! We will select the best people for the positions, not because they come from the right place, but because they are the best! Am I understood?” Calvin hid a smile. There’s nothing like a pissed off German for getting control of a meeting, he thought.
Both the Russian and the Israeli put their hands down and looked a little chastised. Calvin didn’t think they’d stay that way, but it was at least a start.
Time to throw them a bone, thought Calvin as he raised his hand. “I am happy to announce that it looks like we will have a full squadron of spacecraft for the next time out,” he told the board. “We need to increase the squadron’s manning from 10 crews to 16, so there should be room for all of the assembled nations to participate.”
Gottlieb nodded in appreciation. “This is how we will make the initial selections,” the German explained. “As you were previously notified, we will start with the pilots, and each representative will have one minute, and one minute only, to tell the board about that nation’s top candidates, and why they should be selected for inclusion into the squadron. A nation may nominate up to three. After each presentation, the board will make a secret vote and give the candidate a confidence level score between one and 10 on whether or not he or she thinks that candidate would be a good choice for inclusion. After all of the pilots have been voted on, we will narrow the results down and then determine who will be selected. Then we will do the same for the weapon systems officers and then the members of the platoon. Any questions?”
The Russian representative raised his hand again. “Will we be determining the crew of the space ship today, as well?” Calvin shook his head. He had heard that there was an effort among some of the nations to rename the Vella Gulf to something more representative of the planet in general, not just one nation. By addressing it as ‘the space ship’ rather than by its name, obviously the Russians were behind it. Really? Didn’t they have better things to worry about?
“The manning of the Vella Gulf will be decided at a meeting next week,” replied the chairman. “Any other questions?” Seeing none, he looked at the U.S. Air Force General sitting at the opposite end of the table from Calvin. “General Simon, would you please brief your first candidate?”
General Simon smiled as the first U.S. candidate, a navy lieutenant, appeared on the screen. “I’d be happy to,” he replied. “Our first candidate is Lieutenant John Turner. Lieutenant Turner is a veteran of our last war and our ‘Top Gun’ fighter weapons school...”
Terran Space Force HQ, Moon Base Alpha, Dark Side of the Moon, April 15, 2020
“How bad was it?” asked Calvin as Night and Bullseye walked into his office. Although space was at a premium in the lunar habitat, Calvin had staked out a small cubicle to hang his space suit, flight gear and other personal paraphernalia. It had a desk and a file cabinet and two chairs for guests. Calvin felt so cramped in the office most days that it felt like he had to go outside just to change his mind. He couldn’t wait to move back aboard the Vella Gulf. He had a much larger space there that he would previously have only considered to be ‘minimal.’ It now seemed palatial in comparison.
“It was as brutal as we thought it would be,” replied Night, who attended the entire selection process that filled out the ranks of Space Fighter Squadron One and the first platoon of what the leaders had decided to call the ‘Terran Space Marines.’ As the purpose of the platoon was to attack a nation from its base onboard a ship, Calvin could understand the analog of using the wet-navy Marine Corps. Calvin had to leave the selection board after the first day for consultation meetings with several of the national leaders. “About the only thing that they agreed upon without too much argument was to let the countries that lost platoon members fill their spots. That was one of the first things discussed; after that it got hard.” He looked at Bullseye.
“We ended up with the
16 crews that we wanted,” Bullseye reported. “In addition to the Nigerians that you already know about, we got two Russians, two Indians, a Ukrainian, a Spaniard, a Kiwi, a Turk, a Saudi, an Israeli and a female French pilot that I already caught Lieutenant Simpson trying to stake a claim to.” He shook his head. “If she wants to steal secrets, there’s probably going to be a line forming to give them to her.”
“Good thing we don’t have any secrets then, huh?” asked Calvin.
“Yeah, pretty much,” agreed Bullseye, “but don’t tell her that. I’ve probably got a secret or two of my own that I need to share.” He winked. “In any event, we have a wealth of experience in a wide variety of aircraft types. The Russians and Ukrainians only nominated fighter pilots, but some of the other countries nominated helo pilots and a number of different types of weapon systems officers. Overall, I think we ended up with a pretty good mix of aviators.”
“Good,” said Calvin. “Thanks for suffering through that.”
“You can pay me in beers,” replied Bullseye. “A lot of them. Think in terms of cases.”
Calvin laughed. “I’ll get right on that,” he said.
“Good,” replied Bullseye. “Oh, there was one other thing. Some of the nations were finding it difficult to mix the navy ranks with army and air force, so the Terran Space Force is going to go to only using navy ranks.” He smiled. “I’m a Lieutenant Commander now, too.”
The three men shared a laugh. “Did they convert you over, too?” Calvin asked Night.
“Not yet,” replied Night. “The ground forces are still keeping their national ranks, for now, as the high command couldn’t agree on which branch’s ranks to use, even though they decided to call us Space Marines. I have a feeling that they’ll eventually go with the Marine Corps ranks, too, but there’s no way to know.”
When the Gods Aren't Gods: Book Two of The Theogony Page 5
