THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

Observe the strangest sets of parallels imaginable; an ignorant populace utilising advanced technology yet making little effort for personal development. Racial conceit without social responsibility, maturity in retreat as folly proliferates, the wise trying to hold everything together as fools rip everything apart. Logic evaporates as a desire for chaos marches the species towards its own destruction and the eradication of cosmic purity and beauty. A species so catastrophically deluded and blinkered by its own madness and fantasy that it fails to recognise, appreciate and revere the best examples of its own kind.

Balasaniwa stopped reading momentarily. It was depressing. How could such beings exist? Holding the potential to understand the symphony of reality, yet devoid of love for anything other than themselves? Isolated pockets of saintliness drowning in seas of evil and apathy. How could ‘thought’ be so unbalanced? So capable of intelligence and honour, yet so bereft of both?

He had been in Nazareth for some time now, acclimatising himself to this maddening species. Balasaniwa was Zalian, part of a quartet sent here from planet Crenzala to study the humans. The Zalian quartet came to Ledara two thousand one hundred and seventeen of its orbits ago. Their mission was to study yet not interfere, to monitor and report back but not engage. They were field xeno-biologists and xeno-psychologists employed by the Galaxymbion High Council whilst under direct mandate to the Science Congress of Crenzala. Such a prolonged assignment away from home requires certain individuals; no pressing family attachments, no emotional perturbations, no prejudice, no nostalgia. Crenzala specialised in managing such quartets and had them installed on all 41567 primitive worlds where arrogant species had risen aggressively, at the expense of other life. There was even a Zalian quartet on Gelaymer. Imagine having to live among such vile specimens as the thornids for around two millennia!

There was a tug on Balasaniwa’s sleeve. It was his xeno-psychologist colleague, Seerka. “Colochul is here with news, commander. The Galaxymbion has made a decision.”

“Tell us, Colochul. Have you spoken with our Triumvirate?” Balasaniwa asked, snapping out of his day-dream.

“Yes, Master scientist. There will be a convergence here. Kolda-ra and Ekria will send teams to Earth and unfold a grand design. Two Ekrians have already arrived to prepare the way for Ledara’s reformation by accepting the mantle of Protectorate. Master scientist, friend Balasaniwa, we will finally return home to civilisation, normality, our estranged families; our Triumvirate have concluded our Protectorate at last.”

Seerka joined in with Colochul’s exuberant spirit. “Crenzala, how we missed you. Home, clean and sensible, civilisation, sanity, we return to you. No more of these accursed, brainless baboons.”

“Fascinating,” Balasaniwa commented as his colleagues danced around with happiness. “You insult these stunted baboons yet you prance around pointlessly like them. Did the Ekrians wish to meet us immediately or not?”

“I believe so, as our Triumvirate told me they will be in contact with you very soon,” Colochul said. “We should call Trintanawi and tell her this good news. Do you have her mobile number?”

“Don’t be silly; do I have her mobile number? Now you even sound like these Ledaran half-witted apes. Mobile number indeed. The primitive devices and farcical behaviours of these humans have rubbed off on you too much, Colochul. When we get back to normal, sensible society we will all need to use learning spheres just to return to being sober, well-adjusted and useful citizens. Use the cube, like a civilised person. Mobile number indeed!” He passed a vitreous green object, resembling dice in shape and size but with smooth edges, to his assistant Colochul. The cube pulsed with energy as the xeno-psychologist thought his message into it.

“How much longer do you think we will be stuck, here, Master scientist?” Seerka enquired.

“Two or three days. Good lord, now I sound like them too. Two or three revs, I meant. When a Protectorate ends, the quartet returns home quickly. Do you remember why we were sent here, Seerka?”

“Of course,” she replied. “A visitor, what the humans call an alien or extra-terrestrial, had travelled to Earth. He was from Elsevara III, only a Nexus member of the Galaxymbion at that time. He had wonderful intentions, sadly just no authority from his Triumvirate. We were to observe his actions, analyse the human response and try to prevent complications from developing.”

“Do you recall his name, his actions and what actually did happen to him despite our presence?”

“Naturally! My memory of the incident is absolutely clear. He was called Je-Sus-Tra. Initially he approached the ancient Egyptians who were obsessed with live sacrifices, people with animal heads, curses, occultism, the usual rubbish primitive subspecies invent because they are too thick to understand truth. They completely misunderstood everything he tried to teach them. They called him Ra and added him to their bizarre mythology. So, then he approached the ancient classical Greek civilisation, expecting their cognitive and philosophical abilities to enable intelligent communication of his intent. They called him Zeus and invented a kaleidoscope of equally bizarre nonsense around him. Shortly afterwards the Athenians murdered Socrates as their leaders began to realise that intelligent thought was a serious threat to political success. The Romans accepted this unrealistic drivel also and twisted his name into Jupiter. I recall that when their civilisation crumbled a delinquent rabble turned on the female philosopher, Hypatia, who had studied with Je-Sus-Tra, and flayed her alive. Since neither the Egyptians, nor the Greeks and Romans, had listened properly to him he finally tried appearing before people in this region. For all the help he gave everyone here, two millennia ago, he was tortured barbarically. Nailed to a cross and used to invent three new religions based only marginally on his teachings, which were deliberately corrupted and made imprecise in order to permit humans to go on behaving selfishly like moronic juveniles. Those three groups of religious followers set about finding the most ludicrous and empty reasons to fight each other, because they significantly misinterpreted Je-Sus-Tra.”

“Precisely, my friend. I hope these Ekrians have assumed human form, like we had to. If not they will be flayed alive, vivisected and crucified just for looking different - before they even open their mouths and try to teach these deranged baboons anything.”

“Master scientist, Ekrians are very strong; how could these puny humans prevail?”

“Je-Sus-Tra was exceptionally strong and a few hundred puny humans prevailed against him two thousand orbits ago merely armed with stones, knives and a plethora of mindless drivel in their skulls. Never underestimate the ability and determination of the crude, cruel and idiotic to succeed at savage cretinism. There are billions of them today and as a species they are now armed to the teeth with neutron bombs, chemical weapons, machine guns and ICBMs; they breed like bacteria, have little respect for other life and conveniently switch their intelligence off whenever it suits them. Which is usually permanently.”

“Yes, they don’t indeed, sir. And they do indeed, sir.”

“Son, we must talk of this galaxy’s future and that of your father.”

“You saw him today, mother; I sense it.”

“Yes, Rilmuta. Regrettably he is – unwell. I strove to protect you from this Temporal Crisis, but there was never anything I could do for Mirek. His destiny was to enter causality rifts and heal them, fight them, even merge with their parasitical manifestations, as he has now. He could not be at our side because of this destiny. My son, you have grown strong; I know that you also are fused with your Niva.” Aramek Skane smiled gently. “A mother knows when her child’s path hides danger.”

“How?” was all that Rilmuta whispered.

“With Mirek it was different; I was young, a student, not yet fully wise. The galaxy was a very different place in those days. This Temporal Crisis had not made its presence felt so blatantly; everything seemed much safer and certain without that awareness. Mirek arrived as a mystery that broke our innocence; he was suffering induced amnesia and could tell us very little about the future. Only the passing of orbits revealed time’s sickness. With wisdom and study I understood how profound your father’s sacrifice was; the Alarni’i wrote much about the burden of carrying one’s Niva. Only adepts were considered sufficiently self-disciplined and courageous in mind and body to bear such great responsibility.”

“I feel no burden, mother.”

“My son, I understand this. And I must ask something of you, for which I have no right. It is your decision, Rilmuta, nevertheless I must still ask this of you. Soon I will leave Kolda-ra and journey to Ledara. Your father should be released from this temporal parasite by then and will need rest. Stay with him when I am gone: help him, understand him, share your strength with him.”

“Naturally I will give as my abilities allow, yet I spend little time on the surface and Orbital Control is no place for a convalescent. Would it not be better for Mirek to remain in the care of professional physicians?”

“His malady is neither of mind nor body, Rilmuta. He needs the son he was taken from; he needs his family. Find a way to remain on the surface; contact his parents – they live in Tirian Citadel still. Above all try to keep those glowsnakes away from him; those missions they send him on tax him heavily. He ages and suffers with each new demand they make. Without his Niva he would be dead.”

“As you wish, mother. What should I say to my unknown father?”

Aramek smiled again. “Say nothing, my son. If he will talk to you, let him. Mirek is a good man; you are a good man. Be good together.”

“Of course, mother. When is he to be released from the physician’s care?”

“That is unclear. A few revs, perhaps a couple of phases. A physician and nurse tend to him under Triumvirate supervision. They will decide when he is free of the parasite and can safely be returned to us.”

“And if you are sent on this mission before that?”

“Unlikely. The vessel I am to command is still under construction, its crews still in training. Even when it is ready there has to be an inaugural training voyage. My orders are not due to arrive till next decorb. When you meet your father remember that he never chose to leave us. Destiny and time made him absent.”

“I understand, mother. I am neither blind nor from a foolish planet where angers and hatreds rule.”

“You worry, though. Do not, Rilmuta. You have more in common with Mirek than you possibly see right now. Remember the poem I used to read you when he was taken?

“City wall nor in nor out, Part of what it confines, Part of places beyond, Like skin of man or sullen beast, Shell of fruit or seed, Bridge between here and there, Part safety and part wilderness, Window ’twixt then and now, Both holding – and held – by all.” Rilmuta smiled. “See, I remember it, mother. I will look after Mirek and help him heal. Why did you read me that Saaran verse?”

“Because, my dear son, ancient philosophers of Saara 2 incorporated into their views of life something called ‘The Spatial Fallacy’. Barriers were seen to be self-supporting illusions. Saaran Unitarian philosophers argued that any real barrier would permit nothing through, over or under it. Anything else - like a wall or a moment in time - was not a true barrier, just a temporary intrusion between one stage of existence and another. This viewpoint was enshrined in the Galaxymbion ‘Code of Partition’.”

“Of course; ‘all divisions assemble into an unbroken whole. Divisions vanish unless artificial pressures force their creation. Remove the pressure and the barrier dissolves.’ The Titanic Monoliths of Ancient Wisdom.”

“Quite so, Rilmuta. I want you to keep this in mind when Mirek comes home.”

“Naturally. If the glowsnakes turn up asking for another errand I could go instead of my father.”

Aramek smiled, saying "your nobility is a credit to both your parents."

“Preposterous! That would be direct interference in cosmic eventuality,” Balasaniwa retorted.

The blue crystalline Ekrian being – tall, sleek, and angular – inclined his head. Not so much from some acknowledgement of his host’s viewpoint, but because of his considerable height of more than half a millirecule.

“Cosmic eventuality is no longer a constant, Protectorate Leader. Time has lost its ordinal integrity and it is at least partially the fault of chaotic sub-species like this human race of yours. This situation must be corrected or all life will disappear from this and other galaxies. It is vital we remain neutral and administer these treatments to the sickness.”

“They are not ‘my’ human race, Jor-Kintara. I do not own them, I do not want to own them, and nothing you could say or do would induce me to own them. I most certainly do not believe we should educate or empower such irresponsible creations.”

“Your beliefs are noted, Balasaniwa of Crenzala. However, to have arrived at such stern, isolationist beliefs you clearly have been here too long. You begin to theorise as they do; with several chemical elements short of a periodic table. Return to your home planet, my friend, and work these primitive barbarians out of your system before you start to turn into one of them.”

Colochul, Seerka and Trintanawi all laughed, then returned to seriousness when Jor-Kintara turned to face them and said “that goes for all of you.”

“We should remain neutral, Jor-Kintara? How can we remain neutral if we elevate a primitive species out of its muck and depravity? These creatures use every new power and piece of knowledge to foment destruction and lunacy.”

“Time should remain neutral, Balasaniwa. They and their accursed ilk have so pressed upon existential fabric with their dislocated thoughts and self-centred ignorance that time fundamental has polarised into positive and negative factions. Untreated this disturbance will proliferate exactly like a sinister infection, until the entire cosmos is as mental as these sub-species. The Galaxymbion must intervene before fractured cosmic eventuality is beyond redemption.”

“Your orders come from The Interworld Triumvirate Unison?”

“Master scientist, the Ekrian has already proved this to you,” Seerka interjected, tugging on Balasaniwa’s jacket.

“Okay, okay. Very well, go ahead and enlighten these troglodytes and see what happens. You give a stupid ape fire and it sets light to everything. I will take my complaints to my own world’s Triumvirate.”

“Of course; you must, since you feel this way. Now, if you do not mind I have much to do and need to take possession of your Protectorate Amulet so that I may encode it with my own ciphers. You do have it still, and remember its activation sequence?”

Colochul and the others giggled slightly, though Balasaniwa produced a small copper disc from his cloak after some searching. He tapped it in a complex rhythmic sequence, causing it to pulsate with green light and extend five rounded fins. The disc levitated from his palm and scanned the room with thin greenish beams until it settled on Jor-Kintara. The Ekrian closed his eyes and thought transferred his authorisation sequence to the device. The fins withdrew and it floated to his outstretched palm, coming to rest gently. It returned to looking just like a copper disc.

“Authority and Protectorate archives transferred,” Jor-Kintara announced. “Balasaniwa of Crenzala, you are formally relieved of your duties as Ledaran Protectorate, effective immediately. Please accept the Galaxymbion’s deep gratitude for your study of this world and its indigenous species. You are free to return home at your pleasure. As of this temporal frame I – Jor-Kintara of Ekria – accept the Protectorateship of Ledara for as long as it proves necessary. I promise to guide and protect indigenous life as it were my own, and to assist this world to achieve a greater, more acceptable stage of civilisation. I stand ready to initiate all elements of Velvet Panther on command.”

The amulet’s centre blinked once with green light, indicating that Jor-Kintara was now Protectorate Leader of Ledara. Balasaniwa looked like a man released from an onerous burden. He patted the Ekrian’s elbow, saying ’Congratulations. I’m happy for you, friend Ekrian. Enjoy yourself. Now, my colleagues and I have a rendezvous with a Crenzalan cruiser. We are going home.”

Balasaniwa left his front door and the primitive structure it belonged to, mercifully for the last time. His team fanned out behind him, surveying their corner of Nazareth with a barely contained pleasure that they would never see this accursed planet again.

“Okay, let’s go, my friends. We are finally free of this stinking hell-hole. Back to civilisation, normality and intelligence.” He set off at a sprightly pace, his team following happily.