The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “And you are telling me all of this, why?”

  “We are terrified, that’s why. Any one of the ships returning this way could be bringing aliens along in their wake. We could already be known to the aliens -- and they simply aren’t worried about one planet with just million or two people... they’ll come for us after they deal with you. There is simply no way to tell. Not for certain -- and this is something we need to know for certain.”

  “I’m sorry, Makaa.”

  “You, of all people, have nothing to apologize for. You did your duty and more, Captain. That’s why you are here with the cargo you fetched. Those men back in Grayhome knew what they faced and they knew you weren’t a fool. They might have hated your guts, but they knew their duty. And that you knew yours.”

  She was silent for a few minutes, as they decelerated towards the planet ahead. “My people were paranoid. At first we weren’t but when we heard we’d been tried in absentia and found guilty of crimes against humanity, we couldn’t help it.

  “We’ve always lived with one eye on the sky, wondering when you’d find us.” She laughed. “We thought we had a lot more time. Not, mind you, that we’ve used our time wisely. A couple of hundred years ago we gave up the goal of having a colony that wasn’t visible from space. We just can’t do it. There are too many energy emissions for that to be possible. No one wanted to do without them.”

  “Captain, I want you to do what you so commonly ask your crew and passengers to do. Listen to what we have to say and think carefully.”

  “And what has this to do with walking down the street?”

  The silence was absolute. He’d gotten used to not bothering to look. Now he looked. She had tears in her eyes.

  Finally she very firmly wiped one eye with one sleeve, and then the other eye with her other sleeve. “I have secrets; my people have secrets, you have secrets. I was raised like you were: like a Fleet brat. The idea of lying to someone, I find revolting. On the other hand, I can see the importance of keeping secrets. This sets up fundamental conflicts, Captain Grimes.

  “I can see in your mind your secrets; I know many secrets of my own people and I’m honor bound to protect them. I’m not honor bound to protect your secrets, but I am a human after all. I can see why some of your secrets are important and why revealing them are none of my people’s business. There is a middle area, a gray area, if you will. Where my people’s interests overlap yours. It is a judgment call, then, whose interests are most important.”

  “I will make it easier for you, Makaa. I know virtually nothing of current military significance. The weapon aboard the habitat is virtually useless against someone who can put up more than three attackers and we would likely have trouble with two. I’ve already seen more than that. Even if they weren’t armed at the time, they’ll be armed the next time I see them.

  “In short, there are no secrets of my people that you cannot tell your people.”

  “Even that you hold a harem?”

  “One woman is a harem?” he quizzed.

  “You know that it wouldn’t have remained one.”

  “Ah... intentions, future choices. You’ve told me already that your people don’t always assume correctly where people are concerned.”

  “That’s so.”

  “Then don’t assume what I’d do if I’d had to spend a year and a half getting home. Or nearly two decades.”

  He laughed. “Don’t assume.” He considered something he hadn’t thought about for a long time -- not since he’d been a raw teenager, driven by hormones like most young men.

  Makaa laughed. “Oh, please! Think of something else! That is too hideous!”

  He laughed and she moved on.

  “When we get down, first you will see the politicians. They will shake your hand and tell you how brave you were. Then they will turn you over to the psychologists. They will keep you busy for about a day, but I know some of them -- they determine my fitness to fly on a routine basis -- and there is nothing wrong with you. Yes, you wallow in self-pity, but when it counted, you didn’t let it interfere with your duty.

  “Then they will get down to brass tacks. Captain, you will want to listen carefully and be aware of all the points they wish to discuss. Beg time to contemplate what they’ve asked; it is only reasonable and they will agree at once.”

  “What will they ask?”

  “Captain, please. I am not authorized to deliver such an offer. I might know of it... but I can’t speak of it.”

  “I keep treading into areas that you can’t speak to. How about we agree, in advance, that you tell me ‘go elsewhere’ before I even speak?”

  “That would be considered a telepath imposing their will on another. It isn’t permitted, either.”

  “Then please bear with me as I stumble blindly through the minefields your culture and mine have erected between us.”

  “Captain, it has been my earnest desire to do exactly that.”

  “Looks like a clear patch ahead of us. Nice weather,” he told her.

  She laughed. “It’s predicted mild and sunny, Captain. It’s no accident that our main city’s climate closely resembles that of Los Angeles.”

  They spent the rest of their descent talking about descent trajectories and approaches.

  There were a herd of people to meet him, including one billed as the “planetary president.” It was as Makaa had said. First came celebratory speeches, then celebratory dinners -- and then visits to men who were obviously psychologists. It wasn’t Trevor’s first time to face such; actually it had happened rather often after the accident, and only gradually less so afterwards.

  Late that evening, Makaa appeared and offered to take him to a local bistro -- by then he was ready. The dinners had been adequate, but he’d not eaten much. By late evening, he was ravenous.

  At first he didn’t realize what there was to see after they had descended to street level and walked up the block towards a restaurant.

  When he realized what he was seeing, he assumed they’d lost track of Christmas and the trees were decorated for the holidays.

  “No, Captain,” Makaa told him. “The trees look like this every day of the year. Some of these trees, actually most of these trees, had genetic ancestors that grew on Earth.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  What happened then was the second time, he realized. Makaa had made a point of saying she was a two-way telepath. He saw a field, with trees just like these, shining in the dusk. It was beautiful.

  The next picture in her mind could be best described as rape: the same field, with every tree chopped down.

  “Some of your people called genetically modified grains ‘Frankenfood,’” she told Trevor. “We lost the battle the minute some wag named the babies as ‘Frankenvolk.’ It survives even here, bit with a slight different form.”

  “Human beings with something missing,” he said, suddenly understanding.

  “That’s so. And that’s among our own people. The human species is terrified of that which is strange or different.”

  Trevor nodded. “I can only speak a little to our defense. At the start of the Twentieth Century, people who expressed a preference of loving -- that way -- their own gender were social anathema, at great physical risk and they mostly hid in the dark shadows of society where they were tolerated if they didn’t make waves. People who desired more than one spouse were considered religious fundamentalists of some ill stripe or another.

  “Fifty years later, that had not essentially changed, although more people were open to the idea of same-sex partners -- as in a full percent of society instead of a half percent.

  “Over the next half century, great progress was made. More and more people acknowledged such relationships... by the end of the century mores and attitudes had changed greatly.

  “As you said earlier, people are resistant to change forced on them. Thoughtful people tried to use the courts to short-circuit the process. They caused a short-circuit indeed -- th
ey brought the wheels of change to a screeching halt for nearly two decades. After the plague, no one cared... they had more important things to worry about.

  “Ever since, gender, number -- all of that -- has fallen out of the marriage equation. While marriage itself has become more important. Now six men and three women can marry; six women and three men can marry -- and no one speaks of harems,” Trevor told her.

  “They do speak of responsibility,” Makaa told him.

  “And isn’t that as it should be? The children have to be looked after, no matter what odd beliefs their parents hold.”

  “Our society grew mostly from those believing in a social contract between those governed and the government. The government provides a minimal standard of living for those unable to provide for themselves. We had it much easier than they did back on Earth where they started with millions of people -- drones could easily hide. With five thousand people, drones stood out. And the pressure -- social pressure at first, and when that didn’t always work, out-and-out coercion. Work and eat. Slack and starve.

  “We didn’t have the death penalty; we could and did sentence people who wouldn’t work to a minimum diet with vitamin supplements and sufficient calories so the person didn’t starve. If, after a few months, that wasn’t sufficient motivation, we gave them a pack, survival materials, and put them on the second large continent.

  “Most died; the few still alive hate us with an incredible passion. However, they are hunter-gathers who barely speak recognizably and for whom the bow and arrow is the peak of technology.

  “As for the rest of us, the first lean years passed. Now we live as well as any potentate on Earth. Children are educated to the limits of their desire and abilities. As you know, a society with orbital robotic industry is essentially free of the old constraints of rich man/poor man.”

  Trevor sighed. “I’d be willing to bet there are people who live a lot better than anyone else.”

  “I suspect you’d be wrong, Captain. If a person has a need for something -- even a spaceship -- it’s provided. Of course they have to have good and sufficient reason. We have, for instance, an ‘Explorer’s Club’ of people who survey new planets. It’s not for everyone, but they have a couple of starships and know how to use them.

  “For many people, their life’s work could almost be considered a hobby. Want to take a year off and paint? Write? Compose music? Want to learn to fly, dance, act -- people do it all the time, as the whim moves them. You will find that we have extraordinary poets and musicians. Writers and artists. It is a lie to say that you have to suffer to be a great artist -- although there are people who deliberately try it to see if it will improve their art. I suppose it does in some cases; not all of them.”

  *** ** ***

  At another stop Trevor met the new head of government. “I understand that freeloaders get short shrift here,” Trevor told him.

  The man laughed. “Is a man taking a sabbatical year to explore his inner muse freeloading -- or working to his highest capacity? The more advanced the society the harder it is to tell.

  “I won’t say that graft and corruption don’t exist here, but it’s fundamentally different than back in the Federation.

  “Enjoy your meal. We pay a quarterly charge that lets us eat in certain community facilities. A basic stipend covers adequate room and board these days. We have biometric chips implanted that carry all of that information. We are allowed guests and the higher tier establishments have ‘open tier’ periods where anyone who pays a tier can eat.

  “Enough about us! We are eager to hear about the war!

  “Beyond doubt we are all eager to hear about it. While telepaths can learn vast quantities of information rapidly, the rest of us are still limited.”

  Trevor described what little he knew; in truth, it wasn’t much.

  “You say before the first attacks there had been no evidence of aliens?” he was asked by the headman.

  “We were trying to figure that out, but without much luck. The leading theory was that they could detect ships while on High Fan and avoided appearing in detection range of any human ship. I don’t want to get her in trouble, but Senior Pilot Makaa explained to me how you do it.”

  “She was authorized, Captain,” he was told. “I’m betting that by now the Federation has figured it out as well. There is nothing that concentrates thinking like the imminent threat of personal destruction. Alas, as both your society and mine have experienced, it also leads to rapid judgments that should have been taken with more deliberation,” the president said.

  “Sir, like fan detection, no one in the Federation has given any thought about what happened between us since it happened. Pilot Officer Makaa has made it clear that you have. I believe that we’d be willing to rethink things, everything else considered.”

  “Of course you can promise nothing.”

  “Sorry, of course not. But I am a reasonable person, sir. Yes, I have fifteen thousand responsibilities that influence my judgment. I swear to you, now that it has been explained to me, I agree that we need to rethink -- regardless of my responsibilities. What happened on each of our parts wasn’t right. Now, we either hang together or hang separately. You say the Federation will discover fan detection like you have it. But you can no more promise me that will happen, than I can promise a positive result in your relations to the Federation.”

  “In that regard, Captain, we have a proposal for you.”

  “What sort of proposal?”

  “According to both Federation law and our own, the habitat Odyssey belongs to you. You offered it to the Federation, more or less on charter, to haul refugees -- something similar happened at Tenebra. There were no a priori negotiations -- they were all post hoc.

  “We have no vessel capable of hauling fifty thousand passengers. You do. You, however, already have substantial number of passengers.

  “So, we offer a deal. We will provide you, and a few others, transportation back to Federation space. You will be authorized to explain our situation -- we will also have some of our representatives along. You would ask the Federation to come to the assistance of your refugees. The Federation does have ships that can deal with that number of passengers. Only those refugees who freely chose to leave will return to Federation control; those who chose to stay may do so.

  “Once your duty is discharged to the refugees we would offer to swap straight across -- a warship of the cruiser class with a squadron of our fighters attached to it for your habitat. Your ship would return to the Federation and participate in actions under Federation command at the Fleet level. We would insist that you retain command. Your habitat would be used for other duties.”

  It was the first thing to bubble to the surface of Trevor’s mind. “I’m a Marine, not Fleet Aloft. I’m not certified to command a warship.”

  “It would be a Union warship, under your command. We would adjust the rules so that you would qualify.

  “As an aside, Captain, Senior Pilot Officer Makaa explained about telepaths. We still haven’t completely adjusted to people with such abilities in our own society. Nonetheless, we’ve not found their judgment defective. It is the highest compliment a fighter pilot can make of another officer: ‘I am willing to accept this person in command.’ Telepaths don’t make statements like that lightly, nor do fighter pilots -- combined -- say such things lightly. It is very rare. Her former Wing Commander was down-checked twice by both telepaths under his command. Several other pilots expressed doubts.

  “That will not happen again, Captain.”

  “And alien trailers?” Again, Trevor was grasping at straws, not knowing what else he could do to draw things out.

  “We have a research station near a star about a hundred light years from the Federation. You would pass near it, going to the Federation. On your return, you’d stop at another system, close to the way station -- about five light years off. There’s a planet there we use for fueling and is off to one side of the straight path here. You would sp
end a week there fueling. The way station would detect you going by, and then would watch for anything following you. If the aliens can detect more than a dozen light years, we are all in big trouble.”

  “And we just hang out at the way station until we get the all clear?”

  “We have not developed a way to spoof our sensors. We can even detect ships on low fan -- as you showed with Odyssey. We came for you the instant we detected an active fan source at your location -- not before.

  “The way station will be evacuated if there is someone following you -- they will send a message buoy past your location, alerting you to the danger. Then they will go to low fan for a few seconds, headed down towards the star. They’ll take an evasive course as they pass close to the star -- but using chemical thrusters to change their vector. If the alien they detect continues after you, they will return to another base we have elsewhere.

  “If the alien turns towards them, they’ll stay on their now-skew intrinsic until they are sure the aliens have given up -- at least two months. Then they will go to that base. No ship that shows any sign of pursuit will come anywhere close to the Union.”

  “The bottom line, though, is that my passengers will be in your control for nearly three years, plus however long the Federation takes to make up its mind.”

  “Yes. It requires trust, Captain. We are sending you back to the Federation -- the Federation that swore out death sentences to all of our adults at the time, and anyone who reached their majority forever after that. You will be able to locate the Union on star charts, as the B star is plenty close enough to detect from the Federation.

  “You will be trusting your fifteen thousand passengers to our care -- and we’ll be trusting a million and a half of our citizens to your honor. At first blush perhaps the odds don’t seem even, but when you consider it, they are indeed dead even.”