Part Four: Justice
Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go: Lest you learn his ways, and get a snare to thy soul.
Proverbs 22:24 and 22:25[i]
“Another device has fallen from the sky, Deena,” the admiral announced.
Deena had dropped the title and name Lady Kate after she’d subdued all of the shires and renamed herself ’Deena’, which she proclaimed meant ‘Queen’. She’d been the Queen of the entire planet during the span of a normal human lifetime, and then other arrangements had been made.
“Bring it here, Lance,” Deena said, annoyed. The messages were invariably the same, delivered by various humans of a variety of pedigrees belonging to something called the Galactic Union, whatever that was. Probably they wanted her to join up and pay dues, exploit her beautiful planet, and bring unwanted ideas to her perfectly ordered society. Making the culture fit her ideal had taken Deena a long while and was a lot of work. She’d only been able to relax and enjoy the fruits of her labor for about the last century, Faire time, until the ugly things had begun to fall through her atmosphere and land in various fields and wildernesses. Fortunately, they weren’t easy to get into and the collectors whose hands they had passed through had not had the technological proficiency to do so. The first had contained the code key to open the rest.
This one had landed in the field of a farmer, who, of course, came in to town and went to the local armory. He turned it over to the soldiers who delivered the bizarre thing up the chain of command. The device reached Lance, who brought it to her attention.
Obedient, every one of them, Deena hadn’t had to make an example of anyone in…oh… far too many years.
Deena was in the castle within the gorgeous dark wood library, the one in which she had, so long ago, ordered Lord Cline into obeisance. This alliance had never failed her. He had lived up to his word, ever loyal, and she had treated his children, and all the descendents up to the present day, with special deference. Deena pretended to cease to exist, and they became the single Ruling Family. At a time when a normal human would have succumbed to old age, she made up The Oath of Rulers and forced the Cline clan to speak and sign it in her presence a year before she ‘died’. Thus, the people wouldn’t dare question their validity as her successor. From her shuttered castle in Golden Shire she ruled the entire planet through the Royal Family of Emerald Shire, the obedient heirs of submissive old Lord Cline.
A few times during Lady Kate’s lifetime, especially at the beginning of her rule, Deena had become angry at some of the original Ruling Families’ questioning of her legitimacy, their assertion of their superior suitability to govern, even, in fact, their feeble attempts at war. After all, they were the founders of Faire, the investors, in reality, the owners, but Lady Kate was strong and her and Lord Cline’s army had been forceful, numerous, and loyal. They put down the rebellions just as Deena personally, and secretly, violated the rebellious families. She absorbed their shires. Cline’s influence, and fear, had helped restrain the remaining lords and their relations.
Lady Kate, bolstered by her superior army, her admirals’ loyalty, and her own willingness to slaughter her way to complete control of the planet managed, in a mere generation, to quiet all audible dissent.
The societal order of this world had been designed by the original founders. The lords hoarded printed material and controlled education and communications, and dictated that the agrarian society wasn’t allowed to advance beyond the medieval period, with certain upgrades. These advances were primarily enjoyed by the investors, otherwise known as the Royal Families. The first generation of serfs, like the lords, had come from Earth, and had been courted by their future rulers with promises of a simple agrarian life on the clean and beautiful medieval fantasy planet. They’d desired this and so emigrated. When the owners decided they had enough serfs, they dismissed the Terran Shuttle Service, which then disassembled and removed the temporary Interplanetary Shuttle Port, but not before Steven had secretly purchased and transported a killer to help him secure title to the entire world, through murder. Possession of the documents of the murdered lords, which transfer his attorneys could skillfully falsify, such as wills and deeds, would seal the deal, so to speak.
Steven of course, had wanted to own all the lawyers and soldiers, as well as the lands and serfs. He wouldn’t allow anyone to become strong enough to interfere. This had been his plan.
Steven had worked slowly at first, so as not to attract attention. He’d tried to use his assassin in subtle ways. He’d not taken over the lordless shires but had allowed neighboring lords to absorb them, knowing full well that in the end, he would be the last one standing. So the stage had been set for Deena, who had no compunctions about using violence, having been shed of Earthly constraints. She and Cline, and their combined resources, and her violent and consuming nature had made waste of the dissenters, and the rest had fallen in line, especially once the Legend had begun to take hold.
Most of the serfs brought their Bibles and continued their practice of the Christian religion. Deena created a story in the language of the Holy Bible, and by constant retelling, her fiction became as a Bible lesson. Not in the Bible, but of this planet, the Legend was much like the Mormon story of the Prophet Joseph Smith, which had been advanced to the Mormons in the raw and isolated American Southwest. Eventually, a new Book of Mores, including the Legend, the Ten Commandments, and other select Biblical writings, was integrated into planetary culture and belief. The Legend professed that a Divine Planetary Force existed which determined the culture should be continued as envisioned by the lords, and then slowly remade by Deena, the Queen. The medieval agrarian society must always be governed by the Royal Family (the Clines), and any dissent or challenge would be heard and punished.
This is where Deena came in, secretly. The original construct had been an assassin, and the investors had suspected such was in their midst. After Deena had taken over, destroyed Steven, and ordered Cline and the other founders to submit to her ministrations, she murdered the rebellious lords. Deena even killed her own admirals once because of some indiscrete revelations she’d made. After the populace was led believe Deena was deceased, she was unfortunately relegated to living secretly in her castle, but continued to silence dissent with murder. The murders were so heinous and violent that the people believed they were of inhuman origin. Thus did Deena manipulate the inhabitants into believing the Divine Planetary Force worked to preserve the current order, or something did. After a few generations, the Legend become a fact of life on Faire; a known Truth.
Deena learned she was very long lived, and her body healed even gruesome injuries. She indoctrinated successions of the hand picked descendants of her first four guards to make it their family business to keep her secrets and realize her desires reality out in her beautiful planetary kingdom. More like company managers than soldiers, they went through military training and earned rank by their own efforts, for the most part. Many sons and daughters were trained. A few, personally selected by herself and their fathers and mothers who were her admirals, took over their parents’ roles when the time came. The others remained generals. The future admirals were privy to the highest of specialized training, the skill of embodying the dual personalities of the Public Face and the Private Knowledge. The successful ones graduated to be her personal assistants and the leaders of her military. Deena treated each generation in this manner. The most intimate intelligence of all, that she was the murderous monster of the Legend, she thought she had kept to herself.
Creating her perfect society had not been an easy or a quick accomplishment, but she’d succeeded, and now these alien humans and their probes threatened to destroy it all. Deena’s anger had been mounting since the first probe had fallen. She would have to find some relief soon.
Deena had been going over the annual planetary production and census reports. The grain silos were full, so she’d encourage farmers to concentrate on fresh produc
e next season. Although the population had grown, and the combined appetites, too, so had the quality of farming and the quantity and excellence of land under production. Perhaps the release of some additional recipes for various alcoholic beverages would help lessen the glut of grain. Alcoholism would become more of a problem if she relented just to use up the cereals, though, probably increasing socialistic tendencies and even contemplation and conversations of subjects best controlled by sober minds. Her own supply of royal brandy and whisky were always available to her and her admirals, and of course, the Royal Family. Perhaps just a few recipes might be authorized and select breweries and wineries expanded. Why not? They were such good people, honest, upstanding, forthright, and most of all, obedient and content.
She’d seen to their contentment herself by making sure her nearest and dearest, and by this she meant the admirals, made certain any lesson learned be taught discretely. Carefully designed propaganda stifled the occasional dissenter, reinforced the mores and customs she dictated, and propped up the good will, complacency, and productivity of her serfs. Only once in a long while, these days, did she find it necessary to arrange accidents. A small, disguised murder here and there, which silenced a dissenter, was often preferable to the unholy slaughter that the Legend was prone to unleash.
Since she’d ‘died’, Deena had succeeded in staying out of society’s view and therefore public conversation.
Very rarely now and only when it occurred did Deena ponder why the dissent still popped up. She hadn’t achieved her goal of wiping out the opposition entirely, which puzzled her, considering the time frame. Many generations had come and gone. Granted, defiance was much less of a problem than it had been.
Ironically, the success of Deena’s regime had left her bored and aggravated. Few rivals remained upon which to vent her chronic frustration. Practically no one remained to torment and torture, rarely anyone to kill, and few to manipulate and humiliate. She walked a fine line with the admirals and the Family, and treated them with respect, lest she lose her influence and her lifeline to the people. Then, she would have nothing. Being respectful didn’t come easy to Deena, and was a major source of her aggravation. The orderliness and obedience she’d imposed upon her population, and her dependence on the Clines and her admirals, had left her flatly miserable, which increased her vehemence. She couldn’t find release.
Her success therefore, had become her curse.
Lance entered with the probe.
“Go ahead and play the damned thing,” Deena sighed.
After he placed the device on her desk he tapped the code onto the small surface receptor. The recorded holo image appeared; a woman’s face this time. She was in uniform and highly decorated, though the decorations were subtle compared to Lance’s.
“To the people of the planet upon which this message finds itself, we are humans bearing grave tidings. The human species has been attacked by a race we call the Nameloids. They’ve seized Earth. Much of humanity was lost to the diseases introduced by these invaders before we manufactured effective prophylactics. To protect you, we’ve sent samples of our vaccines, synthesizers, and the instructions for synthesizing both the innoculants and the means to deliver them. When you’ve succeeded, type in the following completion sequence (here a combination of numbers, letters, and symbols appeared below the image of her face) using the touchpad. If you would like our assistance to inoculate the population send the help code in the same manner (another one popped up). Please respond. We are concerned for your survival.”
The image faded.
“Put it with the others,” Deena ordered, and she went back at her paperwork. Lance complied.
When he reentered the office and stood at attention just inside the doorway, she barked, “What Lance?”
“Aren’t you even curious?”
Deena stared at Lance with an incurious expression.
“Sit down,” she said. Lance came forward and lowered his lean muscular body into the upholstered, intricately carved wooden chair in front of her highly polished desk.
Currently Deena had ten admirals. These people were her sole confidants, the only ones who understood she’d had an unusual lifespan, besides the Clines. She exposed herself to no one else.
Occasionally she picked a lover from among them. Not recently though.
“Say what you want to say, Lance.”
“The alien invaders. These diseases. Shouldn’t we protect ourselves?”
“We don’t trade outside. Why should we care?”
“The other humans delivered the probes to us. Couldn’t these Nameloids send the infections here? This is a desirable planet. Suppose they want it?”
“No one knows about us.”
“The humans do.”
“Their goal is to protect us. They don’t want harm to come to us. There are probably ships in orbit as we speak. We are safe.”
“Ships in orbit? What do you mean? You’ve never spoken of this before.”
Oops. She must have been more tired than she thought. How would she mitigate this damage? She had been very careful to censor the information she gave to her highest officers and the Clines; after all, control of knowledge was one of her key controls. Now the cat was out of the bag. She couldn’t ignore his requests for further information. He wouldn’t tolerate her disregard and it would permanently damage their relationship. Her intimacy with the admirals was also key, for they understood control - the need to keep layers between oneself and the populace, boundaries of personnel, opinion, religion, knowledge and propaganda. What Deena and the admirals knew and what they told the generals were two different things. What Deena and the Royal Family knew, and what they told the people, were two different things. What the generals knew and what they told their inferiors, were two different things, and so on down the line. This was the system. But if Deena didn’t explain her comment, the delicate balance might tip. From past experience she’d learned the cleanups of her verbal mistakes were costly, and often meant the risk of exposing herself to others. Once, early on, Deena had been forced to personally slaughter twelve of her best and brightest in one night, two of her admirals and the families they had revealed her secret to, in order to contain the information she’d spilled. Spouses and children had died. Promotions had been made. Life had resumed. The manners of their deaths had been horrible. The executioner had never been identified, and the myth of the murderous thing that massacred those who spoke wrongfully was solidified. This mistake, and the murders she’d committed, turned into a success, and had made Deena wiser about her personal revelations.
The memories lingered like the smell of offal.
“Their ships fly among the stars, Lance. You know that the original humans who founded Faire came from the planet Earth. They named this one Faire and created the shires, the farms, everything. They gave us our lives here and decided we would not trade or communicate with the others. You see how well this has worked out for us. The majority of the other humans are dead now but we thrive because of our ancestors’ vision. I can think of no reason to go against our founders’ wishes.”
“Circumstances change. Shouldn’t we get the most current information? ‘Forewarned is forearmed’, haven’t you always preached? They keep sending the probes, and perhaps someday they’ll come. Think what will happen among the populace if a space ship lands in someone’s field. Shouldn’t we acknowledge them, find out what’s going on, and reassert our desire to be left alone? We must tell them to stop dropping the probes. What’ll happen to us when the people realize other humans seek to meet us? They are our relatives. We’ll lose control. Already questions are being asked because of these devices. The soldiers report the questioning.”
“Those are excellent points, Lance. Excellent points. Perhaps you are right. Let’s discuss this further.”
They had a magnificent dinner, and then Deena and her admirals retreated to a high-walled courtyard where they were able to enjoy the warm early fall evening without being seen, and the
nonsmokers found relief from the cigars. Deena drank spring water seasoned with raspberry and lime, as was her custom. The admirals consumed her whisky and brandy, some smoked the fragrant stogies, and they settled themselves among the furniture. They sat close to keep their voices down, and were bathed in the slight, though gusty, breeze.
“I imagine you’ve discussed this amongst yourselves. Give me your synopses.”
“We are divided, Deena,” Kurt began. “Lance, Donal, Merna, Christian and I think we must make contact. We cannot allow our populace to remain unprotected against the diseases and these Nameloids. However John, Samson, Rosaline, Evangeline, and Dirk believe…”
“We’ll speak for ourselves, thank you Kurt,” Samson said politely and Kurt nodded. “We think,” Rosaline began, “control will be impossible if we confess the existence of alien humans. Citizens already want explanations of the origins of these probes. Most of the current conversations in homes, and the social houses, and church yards revolve around them. Everyone seems to be talking of them, though many say they do not care, and some don’t believe. Lance told us about the ships. Once we acknowledge these others, we’ll lose control completely. The key to our authority is propaganda; withholding knowledge and information, steering education, and creating public wisdom. We believe the suitable response to the devices will be retelling the stories of our ancestors and our arrival on Faire, and of their desires for us. We can say the probes are space junk falling to Faire from a malfunctioning cargo ship which exploded after leaving the planet in the beginning. Since no one’s come here in all these generations, we’ll deny anybody still in existence remembers us. We should send the completion code so they’ll stop contacting us.”
“Your proposal doesn’t contradict the belief of Fairans that other humans are or may be out there, curious about us. Do you think that’s wise?” Deena asked.
“Perhaps not, but what consequence?” John replied. “Farmers, animal husbands, blacksmiths, textile workers, builders and indoor climate techs are unlikely to produce spaceships anytime soon. As long as we tell the alien humans to let us be, then we’ll still be isolated here. What harm may come of it?”
“As far as I can determine, the only manner to communicate is with the codes provided. I’ve seen no way to send a message, but I haven’t explored the devices in detail,” Deena said. She wondered if the device was simple enough for her to communicate with them.
Donal stood to pace, as several of the others had, still close to Deena so as not to have to raise his voice. They were always conscious of being overheard. “Will we not use the inoculants? It seems risky not to inoculate our population. If the human probes can so easily come to Faire, why can’t an infectious probe? However, when we vaccinate the people, they’ll know we have relatives beyond Faire and they’ll want to meet them and learn more.”
Merna continued, “The risk is too great not to utilize them. We could all die. When we administer the medicine, they’ll realize, but there’s nothing to debate. We must use it. Also, threats exist in space like violent species. We have to protect our planet. The alien humans will help with their spaceships and advanced mechanics. Perhaps we can deal with them. The grain silos are full to overflowing…”
“If we trade with them, they’ll be required to come here to pick up our goods. We’ll lose control, our way of life,” Evangeline shuddered under her lavender blouse.
“No, we’ll expand our opportunities,” Donal said. “We grow and make quality goods to trade. We can manage the extent to which our population encounters their crews. A shuttle hangar built far out in the wilderness and a long road for transporting the products…”
“How will we keep our traders from colonizing the space port and the distances between, talking with the aliens, and spreading alien knowledge and gifts? How do we do this without the people becoming suspicious and demanding free choice?” Samson asked.
“There is no need to stop these things,” Christian said. “We must change…”
“We must not!” Dirk ejected.
“We must,” Lance quietly said. “The question is how much?”
“Enough,” Deena barked. “Let me examine the probe further, and then we will speak again.”
A recording instrument within the device wasn’t unlike a computer touch screen of Deena’s time on Earth. The screen’s ‘buttons’ had common symbols like a tape recorder for record, pause, play, stop, and reverse. It was simple enough. A ‘transmit’ button sent the signal, so she wouldn’t have to put the damned thing back into orbit, which she couldn’t do. A comprehensive reply could be transmitted, but what would she say to get their various points across?
“A message can be sent,” Deena announced to her reassembled admirals. “Let’s decide what to tell them.”
“Get them to understand we don’t wish to be disturbed again.”
“No, we need their protection from exterior threats.”
“We can negotiate a treaty; get them to protect us in exchange for our goods.”
“If they even want them.”
“Of course they’ll desire fresh produce, they live in space.”
“How big are these spaceships? Do they grow their own food?”
Deena didn’t know. She searched her vague memories of science fiction movies. “Probably.”
“Perhaps they’d like our tobacco and alcohol products. Our coffees and teas are excellent. Should they not use such things, they could trade them with others for something else.”
“What if this is a lie. Maybe the Nameloids are trying to find out if we are human.”
Everyone stopped talking and stared at Evangeline.
“To take our beautiful planet,” she added, undaunted.
“Just send the completion code and perhaps they will leave us alone.”
Deena interrupted the conversation so they wouldn’t present the same arguments again. “If this is from the Nameloids, and they are advanced enough to make a plague, then they can detect humans on this planet. They would have already sent the diseases, and we’d all be infected and dying.”
“Jesus help us…”
“Jesus is not of this world. We must protect ourselves.”
“I believe the probes to be human and genuine,” Deena said. “Do we respond or not?”
Her admirals responded with five ayes and five nays.
“I’ll think on this.” She dismissed them.
Deena sat alone in the courtyard, bathing in the warm fall sunlight. The high walls kept the breeze to a minimum.
Her perfect order was coming to an end. She idly wondered when the ugly sterile body would die and release her. Deena believed an infectious threat had been spread with intent by a species called the Nameloids. They’d be fools not to want Faire. Its resources had barely been exploited. The humans knew of Faire’s existence, which had not been a secret but a homestead business. Records existed. The outsiders were trying to help the human population of Faire survive. The diseases could infect the planet’s populace unless they inoculated. The probes had already caused discussion among the people about others in the universe. The reason for the inoculants would be fairy-tailed, but Fairans were ignorant, not stupid. They’d connect the devices and the population-wide inoculations. Lance was right. Faire had been lucky not to have been approached from space for all this time. They needed protection and didn’t have the ability to provide this for themselves.
Deena strolled down the dusty, empty corridors of her castle, and entered her suite full of tapestries, cushiony area rugs, and gleaming dark wood bureaus. She turned up the heat, undressed, and slipped beneath her down comforter. The door opened and the little cloistered maid popped her head in.
“Madam?” she asked.
“Wake me at eight,” Deena said.
“Yes, Madam.”
Deena pressed the transmit button, and then she, Lance, and Rosaline strode through the mostly unused corridors to the stables. Horses had been made ready and her admirals dismissed
the stable hands. Deena waited for the clear signal. When it came she walked forward and mounted her mare. The two officers did the same. They rushed out into the inky black darkness.
Just before dawn, they reached the end of their journey and found a shuttle waiting for them. They were surprised; they’d expected to camp out for days awaiting its arrival. The crew greeted them formally and escorted them until they’d settled them into luxurious, cushiony seats. The horses were led to another entrance and tied in as well.
Deena observed Lance and Rosaline, in their handsome full dress uniforms, covered by light wool riding coats, managing their excitement and their expressions masterfully. She was pleased. Deena herself had never flown into space, but at least she’d known about it. Rosaline and Lance showed extreme bravery and curiosity, also.
Deena arranged this trip mainly because she’d been bored mindless for several decades. Success had resulted in this dire consequence.
I stared at Doc’s image. He’d contacted me from one of the ships in orbit around the self-sufficient planet he called Faire.
“She’s like you,” Doc said.
“What?” I’m afraid I shrieked a little bit.
“She’s a construct. Do you want to meet her? We’ll bring her to you or you can come here. She’s got two of her admirals with her. They’re completely ignorant about space and other humans and, well, everything.”
She’s like you. Did she remember the “good old days”? How should I converse with her? Would she recognize this body? She’d worked and lived closely with this construct in the past, and only twelve had remained at the end, when they’d been sold. Had they billeted together? Probably.
“Gina?”
Well I had the concussion/brain damage excuse. I was currently pretending to have few recollections of that time, the ones I’d discussed with Doc. Perhaps more memories would come, or not, according to Doc. Of course they wouldn’t.
“Maybe she can help you remember. Her name is Deena.”
You know that feeling you get when an explosion or a very loud noise happens suddenly, when you’re not expecting it, and this makes you feel like all your meat and gristle snaps around while your skin stays in the same place, and then it all jerks back again.
I had that feeling.
Deena. The car accident. My soul bouncing from one creature’s body to the next. Hers too? No way!
“Host her here, Ghee, I want to meet her,” Kek said. We’d been talking before lunch.
“So we’ll bring her to you, right?” Doc asked.
“Sure, Doc. See you in a few.” What could I say? I was in shock. Doc’s image disappeared.
“Ghee, another of your species. How exciting? Do you think you will recognize her?”
The name sounds familiar came to mind but I didn’t say it. The construct hadn’t been called Deena. Here I go with the mental gymnastics again.
“I don’t know. Maybe I will,” I lied to him. I hated lying to Kek
Damnit. Everything had been going so well.
I said, “Kitchen,” and when someone answered, the disembodied reply hanging in the air, I continued with, “Hold lunch. We’re expecting visitors.”
“Yes, Ghee.” I recognized Pad’s voice, the building’s head chef.
“Thank you, Pad.”
“My pleasure, Ghee,” Pad said.
“End.” The communication portal terminated our connection.
“I’m excited, Ghee, but you don’t seem very excited,” Kek observed.
“I don’t remember, Kek.”
“Maybe you will recognize her.”
“I hope so. I’d hate for her to know me and have the advantage of me.”
“I’ll stay of course. We’ll learn from her.”
“And her admirals. Why don’t you call Nok and you two can entertain them while I talk to Deena after lunch.”
Geez, saying her name made my tongue grate like sand in my mouth. Deena had killed me, after all, after she’d run me off the job. If she was, in fact, that Deena, she’d died and her soul had bounced into another construct. The chances of those occurrences were so very small. I gained some inner composure by realizing, most likely, I’d just be dealing with a being who’d coincidently named herself ‘Deena’, and my ‘head injuries’ would explain my ignorance of the bad old days. Good enough.
Nok arrived in time to escort Doc, Deena, the two admirals, and six deputies, into my office lunchroom. The deputies stood at each side of the doors and became as wall art.
I usually met visitors here. The room was decorated like a small gentleman’s club, or what I preferred to call gentlewoman’s club, because it’s mine. I didn’t mind the extra syllable too much. Although most of my visitors were male, I’d made friends and acquaintances among our female trading and political allies. Jack often accompanied them here to visit with me, and treaties had been discussed in this room. Even consensus occurred occasionally. Kek and Nok adored the proceedings. The MekKop desired education in politics, diplomacy, and trade. In fact, Nok and Kek studied these subjects at the university and taught classes at kin schools. Some of their students had graduated to go on to study at the college. Becoming learned in the ways of the Galactic Union was an enormous source of Mek pride. I was proud of them as well.
She looked like me, except her facial features were different, though hers were similarly regular in a generic sort of way. Her face wasn’t deranged by decades of fighting. Kek and Nok couldn’t help themselves; they glanced back and forth at us as if watching a badminton match. The Mek adore badminton. I didn’t recognize her.
“Welcome, Deena, and admirals,” I nodded at them. “Please take your seats. Will you have cocktails?”
“Thank you”, Deena said and as she sat, everyone else did, too. “I don’t drink alcohol, but perhaps my admirals would appreciate something. I would like spring water with raspberry and lime flavorings.”
“We stock an excellent local brew you might enjoy,” Nok said to the officers, and he and Kek moved to the drinks cabinet. Both admirals nodded in agreement.
“Doc?” I asked.
“You know I drink the red stuff,” he described the MekKop Mead from the end of the table. Doc’s fish symbol was hanging outside of his shirt. He noticed me looking.
“It invites conversation. I’m a doctor. I treat pathologies.” He grinned.
“Good for you, Doc,” I smiled back. I could just imagine those conversations. We’d had one. “You don’t chase any patients off with your radical views, do you?”
“Sometimes. Most listen and tell me I have an interesting perspective.”
Deena was staring at me, so I stared at her in return. Now Doc glanced back and forth, as did her officers.
“I’m sorry,” I risked. “I don’t recognize you. Do you remember me?”
Deena hesitated.
“No, I don’t. Looks like you’ve had a tough time of it,” she looked around and accepted her drink from Kek, who openly stared at her, “though you seem to be doing well now.”
Nok and Kek served everyone and sat one on each side of me, across from the admirals.
“They sold me to an arena ship and I spent many decades fighting, until we were rescued.”
Kek and Nok nodded.
“An arena ship, fighting. Hmmm, like the Coliseum.” Deena stated.
The Coliseum could be a reference to the Roman times on Earth, but both my killer Deena and the original construct would have known that. The constructs had studied history to learn tactics and strategies. I’d learned these facts from the files Doc had shown me.
“Yes, exactly.”
“I was sold to a lord of Faire, called Steven, who used me to assassinate the other lords. He wanted to rule the entire planet,” Deena explained. “Perhaps you remember me as Kate or K-8? I’ve been tattooed,” she patted her right shoulder.
“I have one, too, G-9SRO25T. That’s why Kek and Nok call me Ghee-nye, and Doc calls me Gina. You may use either name. How did you come
up with Deena?”
Again, the characteristic pause. It was becoming disconcerting waiting for her to choose her answers.
“Deena means ‘Queen’.”
“Now you are the Queen of the planet Faire?”
“It’s complicated.”
She didn’t seem to want to elaborate, and her admirals briefly turned to stone, so I called the kitchen and asked Pad to serve a meal for seven.
We made small talk about the local food and drink until lunch came. The odors blossomed in the room. I noticed Kek, Nok, and Doc smile. Pad, in her infinite wisdom, had produced Dap Kow Pon Dut Tam Rin, the meal we serve to the finest visitors, and to ourselves on special occasions like weddings and birthdays. The Mek are big on those holidays. Pad had come to my office with the servers and proceeded to stare at Deena and me as the others had while Doc, Kek, Nok and I lavished praises on Pad for the beauty and fragrance of the dishes she presented.
The MekKop really are the best starers in the Infinite. They will not be told staring is rude. Guests are informed they might as well expect to be stared at by the Mek. Only when a species in negotiation is seriously insulted by being stared at are negotiations attended by humans and not Mek, but Mek always observe by holo in viewing rooms. Everything in every office on KekTan is recorded, even me when I am picking my nose. Visitors are notified in advance. No exceptions are tolerated. Restrooms are off limits to recording devices, of course, but they are individual bathrooms, not the multi-stall public kind. If more than one being tries to enter any of these at a time, a Mek hall steward pleasantly interrupts and directs one of the individuals to another. Only Frell are allowed to go in to a bathroom together. Biologically, I’ve been told, it takes two Frell to pee.
I think I mentioned this before; the security on KekTan is impeccable and undeniable. Also unavoidable.
Unfortunately, Doc had to eat and run. He was organizing the potential inoculation of Faire.
Deena appeared annoyed by the brothers’ noisy eating. Her escorts were amused.
The conversation proceeded in a halting manner as only Deena spoke for her side. The admirals stayed silent. She seemed to be carefully choosing her responses to my, Kek’s, and Nok’s questions. She might have been overwhelmed, but I sensed she was holding back. She was quite provincial after all. I asked her about her planet and learned Faire was pre-industrial. We concentrated on the excellent food, though she picked and ate little.
After the goopy, chunky, chocolaty dessert called Nam Dop Tar, which I never grew tired of eating, the boys drew the admirals to the drinks cabinet. I noticed they had looked to Deena for permission, and she’d nodded them on. I refreshed her flavored water for her and invited her to the balcony to enjoy the sights of our beautiful planet.
Outside, I realized she hadn’t smiled once. She walked up to the clear partition and studied the view briefly. Then she turned her back on it.
“Deena,” I said, lowering my voice and my head, moving closer to make a cozier ambience, “I understand you may be anxious. Your planet is self-sufficient, so there’ll be problems. Perhaps after Faire’s populace is inoculated, you’ll want nothing more to do with us. Your wishes will be respected.”
She sidestepped away from me.
“I assume you are the ruler of KekTan, since I’ve been brought to you. This little breed are your, um, constituents? The humans also work from this planet?”
“They are called the MekKop and this is their home. They run the planet, the Intergalactic Space Port, and the civilian orbiter. Humans do business from here, yes, and on their orbiting satellite.”
I became stingy now in response to her stinginess. I didn’t want to give out too much information anymore and I wasn’t feeling friendly toward her. Something seemed wrong.
“But I am not the ruler. This is the Mek’s world. You were brought here to meet me because we are the same.”
“We are not the same,” Deena sneered.
If she wasn’t the Deena who’d killed me she sure did a pretty fine impression. When one had become used to ultimate authority, apparently, there was no reason for friendliness.
Deena decided Ghee-nye or Gina or whatever she liked to be called wasn’t in complete control here, and therefore couldn’t be trusted. Perhaps this was a democracy. Unaware of the grimace, her lips curled in an obvious display of disgust.
“No we’re not,” I agreed. “Certainly we’ve had different experiences.”
“But I understand,” Deena eyeballed me. “On Faire we practice what we call the Public Face and the Private Knowledge. Ruling is a matter of management, correct? You are a manager here?”
“Yes,” I said, but I failed to appreciate her statement about the Public Face and the Private Knowledge, which sounded suspiciously like deception and manipulation to me. Was Deena deceiving her people? “I manage my own business.”
I sipped my coffee.
“So the little creatures…” she began.
“They’re called MekKop,” I repeated, “or Mek if you like.”
“The MekKop, they make up your population?”
“Mek and human.”
Deena stared out across the architecturally brilliant high rise city and out to the parkland and wilderness beyond. The landscape was flat, the afternoon late, and the light gleamed off the shiny surfaces.
She was thrilled by the energy and power here - the spaceships, the orbiters and the spaceport, the thronging alien travelers, the superior workmanship and materials, the high finance business so obviously a goal of this city, the rituals and polite observances of multiple species interacting - and she became intimidated. She was afraid and angry. She did not belong to this future, and she’d be damned if Faire would become a replica of this world.
“Our population is human. We’re farmers and craftspeople. We like our society the way it is.” She related this with a touch of challenge.
“Well, as I said, we’ll respect you. We’re only afraid the pox will come to your planet. The Nameloids took Earth and have killed most of us. We hope they won’t expand further, but since you’re located in the Milky Way, we fear for you.”
“We’ve no defenses of our own, which is why I’m here. Trade’s been suggested in exchange for protection, but I won’t allow my people to be exposed to this…” Deena dared to glance at the modern city she so obviously despised.
“What do they say?”
“They will say and think what they are told.”
“You’re not going to tell them about us?” I’m afraid I gasped.
“No. You’re like them. For all your technology, you’re children, liberals without self control or prudence. You allow many things I don’t. You won’t be invited to my planet.”
“Fair enough, I don’t want to go.” Liberals? “We’ll be able to work out orbital protection in exchange for goods and we’ll proceed so few or none of your people become involved – a pickup center or something. They’ll deliver and vacate the area. We’ll pick up after they’ve gone. We can even automate the pick-up. Ambassador Knott will work out the details with you.”
“Well enough. I’m tired. Are my quarters here or will I be returning to the ship?”
“We’ve arranged apartments for you as long as you like.” I walked into the lunchroom behind her. Kek, Nok, and the admirals were laughing and having a good time.
“Come,” Deena barked. They both practically dropped their drinks onto the counter top and snapped to.
I accompanied them to the door. The hall stewards Nat and Dom waited on the other side. The deputies followed us silently.
“Good afternoon, Nat, Dom,” I smiled.
“Good afternoon, Ghee,” Nat said.
“What can we do for you?” Dom asked.
“Would you please show the Queen and her admirals to their apartments and make sure they’re comfortable?”
“Of course.”
“This way.”
And off they went.
I closed the door and almos
t ran to the bar. I poured myself a stiff brandy.
“They’re good,” Kek said.
“We like them,” Nok agreed.
“Tell me why,” I requested, wondering how their interviews had gone so well and mine so badly. I didn’t believe Deena was good in any way, shape, or form.
“The admirals are called Rosaline and Lance,” Kek began.
“They’re excited to be off world for the first time,” Nok giggled.
“They like KekTan and want to go exploring tomorrow.”
I interrupted. “Deena will be spending the day with Jack talking treaty. She may want them with her, or not. I don’t know.”
“Ghee,” Nok said, “we don’t think the Deena is good.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Rosaline told us the Deena would not allow the people off Faire, or us on,” Kek replied. He was puzzled.
“She won’t. She doesn’t want her society polluted with our ideas. She called me a child and said I lacked self control.”
“You?” Nok gasped. I nodded.
It was impolitic for me to talk about a Queen and a potential trading partner like this.
“She insulted you,” Kek growled.
And that was why.
“Now, gentlemen, our ways are not hers.”
“True,” Kek settled down a bit. “But we have a particular bias against slavery.”
“We must take things slowly at first”, Nok said wisely. “Both Rosaline and Lance decided they’d like to return someday.”
“We welcomed them back, but they think the Deena probably won’t let them come.”
“They are descended from the original admirals, Ghee.”
“Lance and Rosaline said the Deena was first called Kate because of her tattoo. They told us their ancestors passed this knowledge down in secret through the family; she was an assassin and she murdered her way into power. The admirals cannot speak of this openly and we should not or they fear they will be killed, too.”
“She is bad.”
“She is bad.”
“They also said the descendents tell the stories of their ancestors, but only in secret, because many times those who spoke against the Deena were murdered and torn apart. Also their families. Even their children.”
“They said the Deena does not know that the people remember she is a murderer because the people practice something called the Public Face and the Private Knowledge.”
“Also they know she is still alive even though she hides herself because the murders still happen.”
“They think she is an alien because of the descriptions passed down about her awful long lifespan and her inhuman violence. Human’s don’t live so many decades.”
“Lance wants Faire exposed to us.”
“Rosaline said she doesn’t want Faire to change, but she enjoyed the trip and meeting alien humans and Mek. She said she doesn’t mind telling us because she’ll never see us again, and her planet will be closed to us. Since her kin practice the Public Face and the Private Knowledge, the Deena won’t ever find out how Rosaline feels, even if she speaks to her family and friends about us. She trusted us not to say anything.”
“She trusted us, but she would like things to change.”
Kek and Nok glanced at each other.
I was pretty sure the Mek didn’t possess any psychic abilities, even though Nok and Kek did read creatures well. Every Mek did, after all, this ability had been the difference between life and death in their former occupations. I wondered what they were up to.
“I don’t know what you’re up to but don’t cause an incident. These people will soon be out of our hair.”
They continued smiling as they left.
I could only wait and wonder.
I was nursing my brandy out on the balcony and contemplating events when a bong sounded and Doc’s voice disturbed the air above me.
“Gina, you alone?”
“Yes, Doc, where are you?”
‘I’m in orbit around Faire. I’m putting a privacy lock on this conversation. I’m sending you the pass key.”
I heard the soft ding announcing the receipt of the code in my private com locker. No one would be able to hear our exchange as we spoke or listen at any time later without that code.
“Got it.”
“I just wanted to tell you I did some surreptitious scans of Deena and she exhibits the identical genetic modifications as you, in a base human genome.”
“Okay.”
“Also, I’ve been going over your medical records in more detail. Although I haven’t proven this yet, it seems your ovaries aren’t human in genetic origin, which is why you can’t procreate, and I hypothesize the non-human hormones are causing the… how shall we say… hyper-attractiveness.”
“Huh.”
“Deena has these alterations, but not the personality. In her case, she has the hormonal attractiveness and she uses a certain meanness to enforce compliance. It’s a powerful combination.”
“Do you think all the constructs were manipulated in the same ways?”
“Seems reasonable.”
“She’s not just mean, Doc, she’s a murderer.”
“Like you?”
Touché, thanks a lot Doc.
“No, like do as I say and think as I tell you to or I’ll kill you and tear your children apart.”
“What?!”
I told Doc to review the office lunchtime recording of Nok, Kek, and the admirals for himself as soon as he had time, and then I said, “They were grinning like jackals when they left.”
“What’s ‘jackals’?” he asked.
I always forgot that Doc had been born much later than I, and had spent most of his childhood and adult years in space.
“A dog-like creature. I meant they were planning something.”
“Planning what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Okay. I want to find out who your donor species were and where they came from, so I’ll be spending the evenings with the Diagnose reports. The medical community is in a tizzy over you and Deena. If you remember having heard anything regarding the donors during your, uh, childhood, give me a shout. I’ll check out that recording tonight, too.”
“Okay Doc.”
“End.”
I sat and listened to the audio again. As usual, Nok and Kek had spun a deadly accurate account of their conversation with the admirals regarding the secretive dictator named Deena.
Two evenings later I was relaxing with Jack in my comfortably overstuffed living room when the com bonged and the voices of my favorite Mek brothers burst overhead.
“Ghee, stop snoozing! We’re coming in,” Nok barked.
Apparently they were in the hallway.
“We have interesting news,” Kek added.
“Come in,” I said.
They rushed through my apartment door and headed straight for the kitchen.
“What are we having?” Jack inquired, sitting up a bit.
“Faire coffee. Rosaline and Lance gave us theirs.”
As they brewed the drinks in the cooker Jack stood up and went to the kitchen entry.
“What’s got you two in such a lather?” he asked.
“Lather?”
“What’s a lather?”
“Being in a lather means you’re excited, worked up.”
“Oh!” I barked, bolting upright in my lovely armchair. Jack turned toward me. “I know what you two did. You bugged them.”
The brothers brought the coffee into the living room on my ancient silver tray and poured the fragrant brew into the antique English china tea cups from my historic English china tea pot. They’d found the matching sugar bowl and creamer, too, and the silver spoons. My many investments in Mek and human endeavors pay well, and I can afford to indulge in a few expensive things.
“No,” said Nok.
“Not them,” continued Kek.
“We only bugged Lance,” Nok corrected me.
“Does he k
now?” Jack asked.
“Of course,” Kek replied with some disgust. Bugging someone’s person without their knowledge is illegal. We all doctored our coffee to our individual tastes and snuggled comfortably into my luxurious furniture.
“This stuff is magnificent,” Jack said.
“Really fresh,” I agreed.
“Smooth,” Nok said.
“We must invest,” Kek nodded at his brother, who smiled back.
The brothers are well invested, too.
“You could be getting Lance killed,” I admonished.
“I listened to the recording of the talk you two had with the admirals when I arrived,” Jack said. “I also heard Gina’s conversation with Deena. You really could be getting Lance killed.”
“Nobody else knows except our kin Get who installed the bug and our cousin Ter on one of the cruisers orbiting Faire.”
“State of the art audio and visual recording and transmission,” Kek explained. “The cruiser Gemma Redsand has a receiver and the widest range of frequencies and storage capability, and Ter.”
Jack had place himself in an armchair equidistant from me and the brothers. Always the diplomat. “Do you plan to catch her in some act?”
“Yes. Lance told us before they left that Rosaline likes space travel and us so much she confided in him she was thinking of telling her family and the other admirals about her experience. She is fascinated by our science and technology and thinks Faire should begin to study these things. The Admirals voted five for and five against opening Faire to the Union. The Deena has the deciding vote, but if Rosaline votes for, then the Deena will lose, and Lance says traditionally that’s when she lashes out.”
“Lashing out means murder,” Jack said.
“So you’re plan is to get Rosaline killed?” I asked.
“No one will die, unless it is the Deena.”
“Good luck with that,” I said. Nobody had ended me yet, and many had tried.
Jack sat forward, cradling the warm little cup in his large hands. “She’s adamant her population never see or talk to any of us. I had to promise her automated ships and auto loaders and a remote storage facility in a cryptic port on Faire. Even so, I imagine her people will get curious. They’re to deliver fresh produce, alcohol, tobacco, coffee and tea to the warehouse and containerize them, and send a signal to the automatic cargo ship in orbit. It amounts to pushing a button. Then they’re supposed to vacate the area within ten of their hours. They use horses and wagons, so they’re slow,” he explained to the brothers’ curious faces. “The produce containers have climate control and ethylene removal systems. The autoship will bounce in, load, and jump out. Still, they’ll see the workings of the facility if they stick around, and you know how curious we humans can be.”
“Almost as curious as we Mek.”
“The autoships have no crew or pilot?” I asked. I’d not seen those.
“They’re fully automated. The autoloaders are pretty basic. They can analyze and make decisions regarding getting the containers loaded properly, and they repair themselves as well. If there’s a problem they can’t fix, technicians will shuttle in from the cruisers in orbit. I didn’t tell the Queen this because it became pretty obvious during our discussion that she will have everything done her way. I can believe she loses all self control and turns murderous when she doesn’t.”
“She’s bad,” Nok said.
“Like a defective child who can’t learn and just gets angry,” Kek said. “Lance told us his ancestor was one of four who guarded her when she changed.”
“Changed from what?” I asked, noticing Kek and Nok were both peering at me queerly.
“She changed from who she was to who she is now,” Nok said. He sipped his coffee but his eyes were glued on me.
“Lance confided that one of the past fathers in his paternal line was tortured by a Lord Steven before the Deena killed the lord because this ancestor and his partner let the Deena walk around the castle in daylight. The story passed down says the past father said she never would have demanded they take her out of her room during the day before then.” Kek had a funny smile on his broad face.
“After that walk, she started making other difficult demands of the guards and soon she murdered this Lord Steven and began to systematically take over the entire planet,” Nok continued.
The knowledge smacked me then that Nok’s and Kek’s father had told them the story about the differences between Ghee-Nye as she originally was and the being she had become when I’d bounced in to her. The sly devils. They’d made the connection.
The difference between the original constructs and the constructs after Deena and I had resurrected them was revealed by how we had behaved toward others. And Nok and Kek knew it.
“Sounds like she got tired of being mistreated,” Jack said.
“Lance told us the ancestors all agreed the Deena’s personality completely changed and this change scared them,” Kek emphasized.
“I thought she was sold to the lord as an assassin. Maybe she just decided to expand her horizons,” Jack reasoned.
“The bad way,” Nok said.
“Lance said during his grandfather’s time she took a mate, one of the admirals. And the Private Knowledge is this partner asked her about this fable of her personality change, and she said to him that her soul had come from a different place and had taken over the body when its original personality had died. The lover admiral told his sister, who was another one of the high officers, and the Deena started hearing rumors and killed them both and slaughtered their families to stop the talk.”
“Also ‘Deena’ does not mean Queen in any human language. We tried to look it up.”
“So the admirals passed on this knowledge privately without her knowing, while still presenting to her the Public Face, using her own trick against her.” She had to be my Deena.
“As they continue to do.”
“All of the officers, the soldiers, and the people of Faire have their own stories and suspicions, and to keep from being slaughtered, they practice the Public Face and the Private Knowledge,” Kek said. “It has become a cultural habit.”
“So we have decided to free them from the Deena,” Nok said.
“You’ve decided,” I said.
“We decided, Ghee, just like we decided to free you from Spauch when the opportunity arose.”
I felt my chest tighten and the prickle of tears in my eyes. The brothers had always taken care of me, as they forever would. I tried to cover my obvious emotions by sipping the delicious Faire brew.
“Well, it’s done.” Jack sighed, looking curiously at me. “They’re already back on the planet.”
“Our cousin on the Gemma Redsand will contact us after the proof is recorded. This and the recordings of the conversations we had with Lance and Rosaline, and the talk you had with the Deena, Ghee, will be used as leverage against her and also to instruct the people of Faire. We are sure they’ll be happy to be free.”
Kek and Nok were right, as usual. Lance informed Deena about Rosaline converting some of the admirals to her new point of view. Rosaline told them Faire could learn science and technology and advanced medicine from the humans and the Mek, trade should commence openly, and alien human ships were, in fact, in orbit. When Deena entered Rosaline’s home on a cold early morning with murder in her heart, she discovered not Rosaline and her husband and their children in their beds, but her admirals lying in wait for her.
They had to beat her to unconsciousness, and all ten of them took over an hour to subdue her, she was so enraged. Lance’s micro recorder caught the brawl and transmitted the footage to onboard storage. Deena was shown the incriminating recordings and then sealed in her castle. The first, second, and third floor external doors and windows were bricked over, and the only entry/exit was controlled by the officers. Supplies were placed inside this door regularly, but Deena was left alone. Guards were stationed continuously around the building.
It was a Faire cou
p.
The admirals and the Clines decided to withhold the recordings from their people and take over the management of the planet. They discovered many of them were set in their fearful ways and would not change, although they truly wanted to.
They continued to supply the auto port as Deena had ordered, but when the Cline Family members tried to make other changes, the people balked. They were afraid to embrace technology because they had been convinced of its wrongness for their whole lifetimes, and terrified of angering Deena and of being slaughtered in their homes. So the admirals and the Clines asked the Force to help them show the recordings to the planet’s population, and the technological means were sent to the planet. Word spread like fire through dry kindling, and entire families made pilgrimages to the holo sites placed around the globe. Soon enough open trade was established with the Galactic Union in exchange for orbital protection, education, and technological goodies.
Nok, Kek and I all invested in the new trading enterprises and were richly rewarded as Faire products became the ‘latest thing’ in the Union. I also started an account in my name for Jack, which I left to him in my will, since, because of Diplomatic Corps rules, he wasn’t allowed to invest in any trade arising from treaties he personally negotiated.
I truly hope I won’t outlive him. He has become very dear to me, and the thought of being without him makes me cry. And I don’t cry, ordinarily.
And so my story comes full circle. Deena was defeated by my friends in righteousness, unlike how Deena had long ago proudly and arrogantly used her sycophants to deceitfully defeat me. The humans stopped the pox, and the Mek foiled and continue to make warless war on slavery.
Unlike at Freda’s, my friends and I all came together to understand and defeat evil. Evil is not an alien thing outside of us, something the devil or demons possessing us made us do, or any other excuse we can come up with. People do evil to one another daily, in ordinary circumstances, sometimes under the guise of secrecy and other times outright. In order to defeat evil, we must understand and expose it by shining the light of day on it, so to speak.
Once upon a time, I’d pondered whether life was a test. Doc found me a couple of biblical quotes, one from Proverbs 16:4 which states, “The Lord hath made all things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the day of evil.” Proverbs 21:18 says, “The wicked shall be a ransom for the righteous, and the transgressor for the upright.” I feel certain, whatever anyone’s beliefs, that life is worth viewing as a test, and there’s value in behaving as if it is. The solution to this confused puzzle of life is in learning to be victorious without being villainous - although I suspect Deena is sure we are the villains.
Ah, the irony! Deena should read Proverbs.
The End
(for now)
After Words:
Proverbs
Chapter 8
13 The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.
Proverbs
Chapter 11
20 They that are of a forward heart are abomination to the Lord: but such as are upright in their way are his delight.
Proverbs
Chapter 6
16 These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him:
17 A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,
18 An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief,
19 A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among bretheren.
Proverbs
Chapter 22
10 Cast out the scorner, and contention shall go out; yea, strife and reproach shall cease.
Proverbs
Chapter 4
5 Get wisdom, get understanding: forget it not; neither decline from the words of my mouth.
6 Forsake her (wisdom) not, and she shall preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep thee.
7 Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.
Bibliography:
[i] Biblical quotation herein are from:
The Holy Bible
Commonly known as the authorized (King James) version
National Publishing Company
1978
[ii] Dictionary definitions herein are from:
The American College Encyclopedic Dictionary
Edited by Clarence L. Barnhart
Volume 1
Spencer Press Inc.
1953
[iii] Banned From the Bible 1
Produced by Filmroos
Executive producer of HISTORYtm: Margaret Kim
2008
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