by Derek Baker
“Now, you say ‘sister planet.’ Where exactly are you from, Chym?” My curiosity poured out of me.
He cleared his throat. “I shall give you a formal greeting, I suppose, to properly address my being. My name is Ambassador Chym of the family Buk of the city Tai, better known as Chym’Buk’Tai for short. I fare from the planet of Robhustare, known to your kind as the red planet of Mars.”
Silence.
“Bullshit,” I said finally, “Mars doesn’t have life on it.”
This alien was serious, I could see it in his eyes, yet I couldn’t believe him. If he was from Mars, then how come his whole civilization that he claimed to have come from was entirely unknown to the inhabitants of Earth? In the grand scheme of the vast distances of space, Earth and Mars were next door neighbors. How could they keep it a secret? How did we not know about this before?
“How old are you?” I asked him, I don’t know why but it was the next question that popped in my head. A test of whether he was telling the truth, if you will.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, how old are you?”
He sighed uneasily. Did I have him stumped? “The answer to your question would confuse you, as on Mars, the years are longer. Though I’m certain, with your degree of intelligence, that you were already aware of this fact. On Mars, I bear twenty-five years, yet on Earth I would have attained forty-seven years in the same amount of time. With that information, in the wake of your exposure to new worlds and intelligent life, you must learn one of the most important lessons of the cosmos: time is relative, almost meaningless anymore. This will become more of a reality as you learn more. Why do you ask my age, anyhow?”
“I don’t know anything about Martians. You could be immortal for all I know.”
At this Chym laughed for the first time since I’d met him. It wasn’t strange like the Wendrans’ laugh; it was a genuine hearty chuckle. “No, quite the contrary, we Robhustarians are quite aware of our fate.” he said.
I was surprised he wasn’t getting annoyed with my interruptions as he went back to his original story: “Now that you know who I am and from where I come, I will explain the purpose of your rescue. The Wendrans, as I am certain you can tell, are ferocious yet very intelligent creatures. In recent years – by that I mean Martian years – The Wendrans have made great strides in improving their own technology. Unfortunately, they have put such innovations to negative use as their imperial government wants nothing more than domination in trade and military might in this part of the galaxy. We Martians are at war with them; not a war between neighbors; not a war between nations; not a war between two opposing groups; but a war between many planets. So vast is the volume of space covered in this new conflict that some would dare to call it a galactic war. This has all been brought on by the Imperial Head on Wendra: Albalon IV.”
“They want to rule the galaxy?” I lowered my brows in perplexity.
“I doubt such could be achieved, and it would take centuries to make their dream a reality on account of the galaxy being so large. Even so, they have made much progress, and now it is clear to our race that Earth will be their next target; they have been sending scouting ships there for some time now, taking inventory on what resources you wasteful humans still have left. Obviously, the water that so enriches your planet with bountiful life is very attractive. Additionally, it would serve as a strategic vantage point to more efficiently battle my home world into eventual submission. You must understand that we stand in the way of Albalon’s ambitions; we are what stands in the way of him sending the Wendrans off to conquer more worlds outside its immediate span of influence.”
“So if Earth is going to be invaded, is Mars going to defend it? Is that what you’re getting at? Are you telling me Earth is screwed?”
“We owe much to your planet, for we too have made use of your resources. Should we let Earth fall into Wendran control, we would then be very much vulnerable and that cannot happen. To answer your question directly, yes, we will stop at nothing to defend Earth from the coming onslaught of Wendrans; it will be reminiscent of the wars of the past, I doubt not. However, you must come to terms that your way of life on Earth will be forever altered by the events that are about to transpire. Human culture has long forgotten the times when aliens from outer space were a daily reality. It will have to learn to adjust once more, an adjustment that might be very difficult for some.”
I weighed his words in my head, he was definitely right. Humans were a naturally conservative species, afraid to change, afraid to make the slightest adjustment. If something was damaged but still worked, one would keep on using it regardless. Conservative leadership had once led to the economic downturn that eventually led to the state of the American nation I grew up in. People were too afraid to risk what might have prevented so much more harm.
I voiced these thoughts aloud: “Well, as to that last part, Chym, I agree. Humans seem to be very resistant to change. I’m not sure how much you know about our society, but it seems like everything in general has come to a standstill,” I commented.
Chym nodded in agreement. “For that and many more reasons, it will prove a tedious and careful process of preparing Earth for attack, should it come to that. While it is sad yet remarkable that we have kept outside interference to a minimal for two thousand years, there is little choice but to quickly speed up the process in order to preserve your civilization. I’m sure you see the necessity in that.”
What Chym was suggesting seemed almost ridiculous, ludicrous. He seemed to be insinuating that Martians were going to make themselves known to the general population of Earth and warn them about the Wendrans. The expected eventual reaction would be that Earthlings and Martians would fight side by side to meet the coming invasion. Really? Though up to this point, the Wendrans had appeared superbly advanced in everything. I didn’t see how it would be possible to fight them back. Sure, Mars was probably as advanced, but they couldn’t possibly to hope to arm everyone on Earth with better weapons. Though as I would later learn, this was exactly the Martians’ intentions. Humans were not going to be quick to accept their fate and fight to save themselves, as imperative as it may be. Completely ludicrous. I still wonder to this day how such a thing could be accomplished.
My thoughts reached another impasse of logic.
“Before I forget,” I started, my voice raising the questioning tone, “what exactly were you doing on the Wendran ship?”
“I was intentionally captured and taken prisoner to be a spy for the Prime Minister of Robhustare. I was en route to Mars from Earth with some planted intelligence – coincidentally I had just spoken with your President – when my ship was ‘overtaken’ by the Tinzyick.
“So that’s what you do as an ambassador? Talk to our President? He knows about you but the general population doesn’t?” Frustration grew in my voice. So much kept from the public eye, as it had always been. Have to herd the sheep altogether to more efficiently control them.
“Yes, that is how the system we set up was designed to work. The Wendrans on board knew I was an ambassador, which I had planned for them to know. I was tortured for information for a while until Captain Riquaor decided I would be more useful on the bridge where I was used for various purposes, including a translator as you have witnessed. As soon as my eyes met yours and those of your friend’s, I had already formulated our plan for escape. Word had been sent out that two humans had been captured on a Wendran scout ship and that was the secondary purpose of my capture. I was there to rescue you poor chaps. Now that my plans have somewhat surprisingly worked up to this point, we must make our way to Mars. There my people will educate you and Alexander so that you will be ready when we proceed with our plans we have in store.”
“We’re going to Mars, or Robhustare, as you call it? I thought we’d be going back to Earth?” I said calmly but with an injured tone, even though I was secretly elated inside. As freaky as all of this was, I was starting to hope I would never wake up from the
nightmare.
“Mars must come first, you will see why,” he replied conspiringly. Perhaps he sensed my desires.
“I want to tell you something, Chym,” I started to confess.
“And what’s that, my good sir?” The passive expression on his face left me with the feeling that I could tell him anything.
“All of this, as horrible as it may sound, has left me forever changed. Not physically, but mentally.”
“Of course,” Chym nodded.
“Which has led me to this question: Would there ever be a chance of me being able to pilot a ship of my own someday?”
A short ha came from the depths of Chym’s voice. “I had a feeling about you. You’re a natural pilot, without a doubt, easy to pick up instructions and repeat them without error. A most excellent skill.”
“I guess I have some experience with that.”
Chym looked impressed. “Were you an airplane pilot back on Earth?”
I shook my head. “No, I studied astrophysics at university, though. I know the theories behind trans-dimensional travel. But I always thought it was something of the imagination; never could I have dreamed I would be doing this right now in this very moment.”
“Ah,” Chym brought a webbed Martian hand up to his chin, as if contemplating something, “very intriguing. If all goes well, we’ll have you trained, then.”
“What about Alexander?” I asked, remembering the guy who had also been stuck in this shitty situation with me.
“As a pilot, he fares average. But he is a tremendous fighter.”
“I noticed too.”
“Perhaps it was out of vengeance that he acted thus.”
I assumed he was commenting on how Alexander had smiled as he shot down the Wendrans back on the Tinzyick.
“I just have to wonder what they did to him. I mean, hell, they made me watch them rip the knee cap right out of my leg, for Pete’s sake!”
Chym’s eyes widened. “I can’t say I’m surprised, and if I had been able to do something sooner, I would surely have prevented such torture from occurring. I can imagine they did something far more terrible to Alexander. I humbly apologize.”
“I guess it’s not your fault…”
With that, the conversation had pretty much ended as Chym left me to my thoughts. No wonder Alexander had looked so exhausted when I relieved him of his duties. He was probably having difficulty in comprehending everything Chym told him just as I was. We talked about it from time to time, but it was mostly about what would happen to us on Earth. It looked like we may not have such a hard time upon returning to Earth like I had originally thought, at least in the respect of getting everyone to believe us. As to my new aspirations of becoming an astronaut, that dream seemed ever more likely to come true since I had easily mastered the controls of the Wendran ship before our journey through the cosmos en route to Mars was over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ESCAPED?” demanded the Emperor, his face hot with rage.
“I’m simply repeating the information passed along to me from Captain Riquaor,” Quansor said sheepishly.
Albalon paced up and down the table separating him from his military advisor. He contemplated shooting his trusted colleague right then and there simply out of anger. It would also serve as a warning, though his subjects were already very well aware of his brutality. But he had a better idea.
Much to Quansor’s fears, his Emperor suddenly grew calm, as if arriving at a resolution. “Have Riquaor’s ship, the Tinzyick, grounded here in the capital immediately. Then fetch me my son. I wish to teach him a lesson about what it means to rule.”
Relieved at the knowledge he might have just narrowly avoided death, Quansor replied, “Yes, your highness,” and without hesitation darted out of the chamber.
Albalon’s thoughts danced in his mind. His son Beltrush was almost to adolescence; a perfect time to shape his mind into that of the next great Emperor of Wendra. If only his own father had done him this service, this education. That didn’t matter anymore anyway, he was dead now, and so was his brother. Both of them had been out of touch with the Wendran way, the fundamental philosophy of ruling with an iron fist.
Because it had been assumed but never officially declared that his elder brother was to ascend the throne, Albalon led a childhood of academics, reading and learning his history and economics. As a Prince of such a powerful planet, he yearned to study everything there was to know about politics. Often he compared different systems, especially the inferiority of Robhustare’s democracy. How slow and inefficient it seemed to him. As the head of state without any checks to his authority, Albalon could make anything happen with immediacy.
And swift action was about to take place. He couldn’t let this failure, this escaping of these so-called Earthlings, to simply pass by unpunished. How stupid could they have been? Did they realize the ripple effect this could have in the battle against Robhustare? Should these Earthlings make it back to their home world, without a doubt they would warn the others, prepare to defend themselves against the coming onslaught.
Then again, the planet is quite oblivious to everything. Perhaps we can still strike with the element of surprise. Keep them waiting, yes. Keep them guessing, yes. Make them worry, make them wonder. Let them be most vulnerable when I strike. Perhaps I may not even strike immediately, or in the coming year. I suppose we’ll see what happens… thought the Emperor to himself.
“Your son, my lord,” a guard said, entering the chamber. In came Beltrush, a lean, strong-willed young man.
What a fine leader you’ll be, my son, the child of my beloved Empress Jaipun, thought Albalon.
It’s about time my father pays some attention to me, thought the Prince.
Aloud they spoke formally.
“Good day, Prince Beltrush,” the Emperor bowed his head in respect.
“Your highness,” replied the Prince.
“How are you, my son? I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important…” Albalon drifted off in his speech, measuring his son’s emotions.
His son’s response was calm and collected, a cool confidence in it: “Just fine, father. I was only in my study, looking up information about this Earth planet I’ve been hearing about.”
He sensed his father’s careful examination in those crescent shaped eyes, held up his barriers. His father didn’t scare him like he did most others. Maybe a little intimidating, but that was only because his father knew more than him, had the advantage.
“Oh good, son, good. I take it then that you know why you have been summoned?”
Beltrush fought against rolling his eyes. “To a degree. I know that two of these Earthlings escaped Captain Riquaor’s vessel, and I know that you wish to make an example of him. It would also appear as if you wish me to be witness as a lesson in my Imperial training. Understandably so; you wish to show me that such situations cannot be handled with weakness. Only the strong shall prevail in Wendran imperial society.”
Albalon hid the fact that he was deeply impressed as best he could. His education was coming along splendidly, just as he had designed.
“That’s correct, my son. In fact, how would you like to choose the method of punishment?” This was an even bigger test of Beltrush.
“If I had to choose, I would select the ancient justice of Wendrazi. As you know, I’m sure, the millennia-past Duke had special arrangements made for those who couldn’t meet his expectations. It’s as traditional as you could hope to achieve.”
An excellent answer it was.
The emperor raised his eyebrows, considering his son’s words. “Very well,” he acceded, “we shall invoke the ancient justice of Wendrazi.”
“My humble servants,” he commanded to the guards at the doors, “have an audience ready within the hour in the justice building. And have the torture devices ready.”
“Yes your highness,” they bowed, leaving the Emperor and the Prince to themselves.
An uneasy si
lence followed as the two studied one another in their solitude.
“You wish to execute the entire crew, don’t you, father?” Beltrush inquired, his brows lowering in concentration.
“But of course. It’s the only way. While we could use the soldiers for other military purposes, the necessity to make an example outweighs their usefulness to me.”
Beltrush sensed a further insecurity in his father.
“And you wish to execute Quansor as well, don’t you?” The Prince studied his father intently. He knew that his father had doubts about even his most trusted military advisor. Paranoia was one of his father’s weaknesses and strengths.
The Emperor couldn’t disguise his surprise, but he quickly pushed it aside. “Why my son,” he muttered, “you read through me. A fine heir to the throne you will make indeed. While I do wish to get rid of Quansor, too, this wouldn’t be the right time. I’d prefer to wait until after we defeat Robhustare.”
“Mars…” whispered the Prince.
“Excuse me?” his father raised his voice.
“Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud,” Beltrush dismissed quickly.
“Ah…” Albalon lowered his eyebrows.
The Emperor put his hand on Beltrush’s shoulder guiding him towards the door. “Come my son, we have some capital punishment to oversee.” A smug grin came across his lips. “Be sure to pay close attention…”
Chapter 13
The time I spent upon Mars for the first time was nothing less than extraordinary. Never did I see any planet quite like the red planet we humans had long thought dead, nor do I believe I will ever see another similar. The history of the Martians is remarkable and led to the society they live in today.
In the past, we of course had sent probes to scout the surface of Mars, searching for life or other information about the planet. Science fiction had long discussed the possibilities of there being a Martian race, with the canyons that covered its landscape previously thought to be waterways. Once our technology had improved we had been able to determine that was there wasn’t actually any water on Mars, though there might have used to be. Before the crippling world war that put the nations at a stalemate, scientists came to the conclusion that there was no life on Mars, and there probably never had been in the past. No further research had been conducted since then. By then our domestic problems with cleaning up from the Financial War and trying to feed the starving populations of the Earth combined with the new religious fervor that had ceased to give hope to people made for little to any progress being made.
