by Geoff Wolak
I kept an eye on Cuba, but no Preethan was seen to mug a Seethan, or vice versa. When there was a dispute, they would ask Rescue Force to sort it out, and that would generally result in the various factions being told ‘There’s plenty for all’. And there was plenty for all, the islands wild population of cattle in the millions, fruit by the million of tonne just lying around – or growing on the trees.
Six months passed, and war had not broken out, the Preethans on the island soon just as chilled-out as their Seethan cousins, and not giving a crap about politics. They did, however, like to play football of an evening, or early morning when it was cool.
And our sneaky Preethan President, he shipped around three hundred of his citizens to the island every week, each and every week. Around Galveston and East Texas the Preethan camps grew, and they kept growing. We were also now witnessing them utilising the long road to Virginia, a camp created where a Civil War museum once stood.
Then one day, a year after the move to Cuba had started, the Seethan President sat down with his opposite number without discussing it with us first, and Denver would be handed over – not a shot fired. I was stunned, and Henry checked the detail several times, both of us stood staring at each other for ages.
The Preethans drove out of Denver, down the Kansas Road, and created a new capital in Galveston. Three days later, Seethan soldiers occupied Denver, some ten thousand Preethan bachelors remaining, bachelors who just didn’t give a shit either about their President, or about moving. The Seethans moved in, ignored the Preethans still there, and claimed empty houses and hostels. The Seethans did not make Denver their capital, but at least it was now in Seethan hands, and Henry and I could see how it may end up as their capital.
An additional forty thousand Preethans made the boat ride to Cuba during that following twelve months, Havana now something of a booming city, although with an agrarian base. Its produce came back to Galveston, and horses went across to Cuba. The old cargo tubs were also used to take heavy equipment across, including cars, but we refused to take tanks or military hardware when requested. If the Preethans wanted to make that move, they would have to do so without me, I told Henry.
The munitions remained in Texas, as did the capital, and there was no sign of a war on the horizon, not even a border skirmish. But a few weeks later the Preether surprised us again, a military transport plane similar to a DC3 landing in Cuba after refuelling in Galveston. It flew at its maximum range, the pilots brave – and foolish with it.
Those flights became regular, people and equipment taken across, and all of Wyoming was handed to the Seether, towns in the Dakotas being abandoned by the Preether. The Preether then appeared with an old cruise liner that was orange with rust, towed by tugs that they had repaired – displaying more skill than I would have credited them with. The liner had been patched up, cleaned, and the cargo tubs were asked to tow it to Cuba, full of people. It floated, and that was all that mattered.
The ship crews agreed without consulting with us, such voyages routine these days, and three thousand Preethans boarded the rusting old hulk with their bags. But we had been tricked, and had not been paying attention. When the liner arrived in Cuba, armoured cars and tanks drove off a lower deck, fighter planes with their wings detached having been seen.
I was mad at first, concerned - since this had been my doing, and there were now ten times as many Preether on Cuba than the original Seethan colony. But, as Henry pointed out, tanks and planes on Cuba will be about as much use bows and arrows. Tanks could do nothing other than defend the islands from invasion, and the fighter aircraft just about had the range to attack the tip of Florida – where no one lived!
It was an odd move, and after a few days Henry and I considered the Preethans to be being stupid over the move. Cuba had the weather and the food, the oil and nice beaches, but it would limit their growth in time, and would box them up. It would also make them as lethargic as the Seethans on the island.
The more we thought about it, the more we considered that this was the nail in the coffin for Preether. We had tempted them south, and they had expanded their territory rapidly, well on their way to dominating the Seether. But they had gone too far, and were now split and stretched, a move that they would probably never recover from. We now knew why the Seethans would prevail; it was because the Preethans sailed to the Promised Land instead of industrialising America.
The teaching programme and apprenticeship schemes were progressing well, and educational standards were rising in each city, in each town, and in each bachelor hostel. We tended to see more of the intelligent Seethans these days, and it was great to have a sensible conversation, many of them learning English, and learning quickly.
We had assisted directly with the design of a bridge, and of a dam, and the structures looked sound upon completion, tested by human experts. New aircraft were being produced, large variants of old designs, new wing spars now being made of an alloy we had introduced, and we witnessed the start of a Seethan airline, the first civilian use of aircraft. That airline ferried skilled workers back and forth from the Canadian oil fields, and even our human workers and teachers considered the aircraft safe enough to risk.
But our main influence, and a hidden influence for now, was unfolding in the Congo, where the human administrators and teachers had thrown my rule book out of the window, and had started to advance the Pisceans resident there in all technical areas. And the Pisceans were smarter than they appeared, they just needed a push – and an opportunity, as had the Africans on many worlds. When you dragged a Seethan farmer away from the day to day grind of running a farm, he could pick up new skills. All the bachelors needed was a little free time, and some encouragement.
Unfortunately, the colony in Cuba was regressing, and little appetite for study was demonstrated. Still, they produced plenty of food, and that food base would serve the population well in the future. We hoped that, at some point during a wet cool evening on the island, the Cuban bachelors would pick up a book and study, but we were not holding our breath.
The one progressive area that the Cuban Pisceans had tackled was the utilisation of the old cargo ships. Those ships had dumped groups of bachelors on nearby islands, such as Jamaica, and even on the coast of Venezuela and Brazil, the seed of the population spreading south. One ship, avoiding a storm by putting in to the west coast of Florida, lost most of its passengers. A new colony had been created, of Preethans, but it would be a while before the area witnessed its first retirement complex or car-jacking.
Sat in the embassy of a cold evening, I started to write an academic paper on the Seethans and their development, but as I began I soon realised that this story was not the story of the Seethans, but of mankind. It had all the parallels, and these were not aliens, they were people. The day to day struggle was the same, the needs and wants, the desires, and – ultimately – the politics. The Pisceans had formed themselves into groups, leaders had emerged and set rules for an orderly society – based on productive cooperation, but over time those rules had become dogma and tradition, till few remembered why those originally quite practical rules had been created.
Bachelors grouped themselves to work the land as a team, and the females and children were kept hidden - and safe from strangers, as in early human history. But somewhere along the line the rules became blurred, and power started to corrupt the leadership. Groups were kept separate: the farming peasants, the police and army apparatus keeping the peace, the local judiciary and the national leaders. Those leaders were there to run the group or the nation, for the best interests of that group, tribe or nation but - as with our human history - the role of leader had become perverted.
Once in power, the leaders wished to remain in power, and the rules would be used to control the masses, the media used to fool and to motivate the masses, and the average peasant farmer had no understanding of regional or national politics. He had a vote - at local level or even at national level - and was fooled into believing that he actu
ally had a say in the running of his country. But that vote, either in a Seethan bachelor’s hostel or in a village on a human world, was just a drop in the ocean, and that ocean moved with the political tides, the mood set by the media, the media controlled by the power brokers.
I witnessed it first hand on Seether, and I could see parallels elsewhere. The Seethan bachelors toiled all day, and had little time to worry about national politics, nor much understanding of it. If they did sit down to watch the news, they might glimpse their reputedly deadly enemy threatening an attack, and they would loyally follow their leader. Nationalism was a trait found in all people and in all areas and all walks of life, and the it was easiest primitive instinct to tap into and to manipulate, the tribal instinct, and the extension of the family unit.
You, and your people, are under threat – we must act; trust me because I’m your leader.
Here in the embassy, I saw the downtrodden bachelors walking to work of a morning with the collars done up and their hats down low, and walking home again in the evening, and I saw the government news issuing enough shit to fertilise the nation’s crops. What these bachelors needed was what I was working towards, and that was a little free time, time to sit down, to study, and to debate the nation’s politics. Then, once they had an opinion, they would need to communicate that opinion, and to transform it into local, regional and national politics. What these guys needed was the Internet, but that was a long way off. In the meantime, the media kept the bachelors thinking what the President wanted them thinking.
I gave up on the academic paper, because I could see that I was just re-inventing human history from a different angle. The Seethans appeared different facially, but they were more like us than outsider observers may have realised. I deleted what I had started, had a cup of tea, and ordered Dark Star to make the current Seethan President unwell via microwave targeting. The man was a jerk, and was leading these people the wrong way.
I informed Henry after I had done it, and he just made a face, cleaning his glasses. Henry said, ‘If you hope to spark a change, and you’re waiting for an … enlightened and progressive president to come along, you may need to pension off a great many Seethans.’
‘We should have Pleb elected,’ I said as I sunk into a chair.
‘He couldn’t do a worse job of it, no, but – as a figure head – he would be easy to control by those around him. A tin of tuna and two pigs - and he’d declare war for you.
‘I may not always say it, Paul, but you are doing a good job, and doing it the right way. We could replace leaders, we could influence them, even bribe them or threaten them, but for there to be a positive a lasting change – that has to come from the grass-roots citizen and voter. They … have to change attitude, not the President, and it’s that group that you’re targeting with football. It just needs time.’
Magestic 3
Copyright © Geoff Wolak
www.geoffwolak-writing.com
Part 8
Seether
Four full years after the war with the Zim, Baldy stood waiting in a grey and overcast Denver on his world, to welcome Jimmy. ‘We’re ready,’ he offered as Jimmy’s party approached. ‘And you’re late, old man.’
Jimmy took in the odd portal location – a closed-off street, the trailing power cables, the nearby apartment blocks, and the assembled team - a team of diplomats. The aim of the diplomats was to simply develop relations with the future Seether – under threat or by force - the same Seethan society that Jimmy had plucked Sandra and Jesus from. ‘Someone’s missing.’
Baldy took in the team, his hands in his pockets. ‘Yeah, who?’
‘The ace in the hole, and someone who will cut through the political crap their end. They may shoot me.’
‘The Great Prophet?’ Baldy teased. ‘Unlikely.’
‘Never underestimate politicians,’ Jimmy cautioned.
An alarm sounded, Jimmy’s guards reacting, and a commotion caused both men to turn, armed Seethan soldiers soon seen walking around a corner in two neat lines – oddly dressed Seethan soldiers; they looked like there were part of a marching band.
‘Looks like they’re coming to see us,’ Baldy quipped. ‘We’re being invaded. And they brought their band along.’
The soldiers formed a funnel, Selemba gliding down the line in her best regalia, a bright red dress, a sparkling crown perched atop her head.
‘Bloody hell,’ Baldy let out.
Jimmy smiled widely. He bowed as Selemba drew near. ‘Your Majesty.’
Baldy tried to copy. ‘Yeah, what he just said.’
‘Uncle Jimmy …’ She struggled to describe Baldy. ‘Father’s … doppelganger person,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Baldy cocked an eyebrow. ‘Welcome … to my world. I think.’
‘Is everything ready?’ Selemba regally enquired, six Seethan men now carrying her train.
‘Er … this way, Your Majesty,’ Baldy offered with a frown, leading Jimmy into the portal control room, a prefabricated hut. Selemba trailed behind them.
On Seether, three months had passed since Jimmy had visited and stopped the traffic, the electorate due to vote in a few months time on a new President. It was a fine but cold day, early, with little traffic outside the White House. The portal crackled into life, Seethan soldiers jumping through and forming a funnel. The gate guards to the White House reacted, radios grabbed, weapons drawn.
Jimmy halted Selemba, suggesting that it would be unseemly for her to arrive without a crowd. That crowd soon became a crowd of police officers and soldiers, a few curious citizens and tourists now stood watching what was up, passing traffic slowing down or halting. With senior staff now walking down from the White House, a TV crew on scene, Jimmy judged that it was time. Selemba stepped through wearing a gown that was symbolic, one that the Seethan history books displayed, and one that every Seethan knew from their school studies.
‘Make way for Queen Selemba,’ a soldier shouted at the crowd.
Selemba stepped through, the train of her dress being carried, gasps coming from the police, the soldiers, and from civilians alike. The TV camera focused on her as the outgoing President halted his approach, shocked rigid. Maybe he had read the history books, and noted Selemba’s reputed fondness for breaking the necks of presidents. Either that or he thought she may want to mate with him!
‘Make way for Queen Selemba,’ was shouted again, the soldiers moving forwards in two flanking lines as Selemba advanced towards the White House gates.
Civilians started to kneel, a few of the soldiers and police officers following. When the police chief failed to bow, Selemba stood glaring at the man till he knelt. Approaching the White House gates the guards all bowed low, the President and his staff now on the spot. This was the species’ progenitor, and the TV cameras were filming.
Jimmy and Baldy stepped through, a soldier shouting, ‘Make way for the Great Prophet.’
A few people dared to look up, in time to see the President and his staff all bend in the middle and bow low.
‘Great Queen Selemba,’ the outgoing President offered. ‘Welcome to Seether. It is … a very great honour.’
‘Of course it is,’ Selemba noted. ‘Lead on, and find me a room, quarters for my staff.’
‘Er … this way, Great Queen.’
Trying not to smile, Jimmy led Baldy towards the TV cameras.
‘Twenty bucks says she breaks his neck,’ Baldy whispered.
‘People of Seether,’ Jimmy loudly began. ‘I have returned to you as I said I would, but have journeyed today with Great Queen Selemba. What you will remember from your history books … is that Queen Selemba went away after spending only a few years with you. She did not die, and she did not travel to the worlds of the ancestors as your history books might suggest.
‘At the time of Selemba, when Selemba was young, a great war was fought against an alien race known as the Zim – a race from far away. That war was won, but I was cautious. I found a world
with no human life, and I created a Seethan colony on that world. People of Seether, you are not alone in the universe, there are other planets populated by Seethans, and Queen Selemba’s planet has a billion people on it, their technology well in advance of yours.
‘What you should also now be told … what your government has not informed you of … is that this timeline split many years ago, and you have a twin planet, almost identical. There are … three worlds populated by Seethans, all prospering, all peaceful.
‘It was my hope that our enemies not find the world that Selemba travelled to, as they had found this world. But as time went on our strength grew, and our enemies were no match for us. Selemba flourished on that world - with a little help from us, and with a little help from two Seethan citizens from this city, and from this particular time. When I last visited this city I took two of your people back with me, their names Sandra and Pleb, and they lived in the building where you filmed me.
‘People of Seether, those two citizens helped to develop an entire human world, brought peace, and sent an army to fight alongside us at the Battle of Zim. After that battle, the two Seethans from this city assisted Queen Selemba, and joined her on her new world, where they helped to develop that world. You can all be very proud of the two young students you produced.
‘Queen Selemba will visit with you for a few days, more if you’re lucky, and will then return to her own people. This is an historic occasion, and we shall open diplomatic relations with you from this day forwards. Many of you will be allowed to visit our worlds, and humans will visit here if it is permitted by your authorities.’
People looking up caused Jimmy and Baldy to turn around, and to glance up themselves, a diamond formation of stealth craft cruising silently by.
‘Do not be alarmed, those are our ships, some of which fought in the war. Such technology will be available to you in the future. I will now meet with your President, and talk to you again in a few hours. Thank you.’
