The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) Page 3

  “Indeed, that is the plan. To that end, it will soon be time to enhance the UN’s role further. To achieve that, we must get the world’s governments to bend the knee. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again, you humans are an obstinate race, and even though your ridiculous layers of government and disunity make no sense to anyone with any sense, dismantling that mess is going to take a lot of time and work. It will also meet with much resistance.”

  “And it must be done without any visible influence from the Independent Worlds,” Maitland replied.

  “Quite. At least, in the public’s eye, that is to be so. The individual leaders are another matter, and I will deal with them when the time is right. What is needed in the meantime is to thin the ranks of leadership in governments around the world; there are too many self-interested ego-centric wastrels.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” the president asked.

  Kestil peered at Maitland. “I don’t need to explain the gravity of this matter, I’m sure. And I’m confident you appreciate the need for eggs to be broken, if one is to make an omelette.”

  Maitland shifted uncomfortably. “If this involves criminal activities, Kestil, I cannot sanction it. I appreciate how powerful you are, in comparison to the likes of me, of course. But, I can’t sit idly by while you run amok on our planet.”

  Kestil rubbed his chin and regarded the president carefully. Eventually, he nodded. “Of course; I understand your position. However, you have to stand back and look at the bigger picture, too. Humanity must progress toward unification, and, to achieve that end, the current governmental structures must be removed.”

  He held up a hand when Maitland made to protest. “Please, let me finish. This removal process must be approved by the planetary population as a whole; we must make a united planet something everyone wants, Michael. To achieve this, people need to desire a change, and we are far from that point. At the moment, your politicians get elected mainly by promising to improve the status quo, not remove it; is that not so?”

  Maitland shrugged. “I guess that’s true.”

  “They also push inter-racial hatred to promote their cause, do they not?”

  Maitland blanched. “Well, some do, I guess. Usually those who want to capture the vote of the less educated groups, anyway.”

  “Quite,” Kestil replied. “Those who promote such animosity must, by necessity, be discouraged from any involvement in positions of leadership. They work directly against global unity.”

  Maitland nodded. “True enough.”

  “So, we need to remove those who would oppose unification, and create such dissatisfaction with the current systems that people will welcome the intervention of the United Nations with open arms.”

  “Well,” Maitland replied, “it’s not like people aren’t unhappy now; the two party preferred system is under a lot of fire at the moment; and with good reason, in truth. Although you’d never get me to admit that publicly, of course.”

  Kestil gave the president a thin smile. “Of course. The weak point with the current systems in many countries is that a career in politics is obscenely rewarding. Pensions for life after very short periods of service, the whole lobby system, zero accountability and a well-paid job if you make a mess of something, the list is endless. You people have put a structure in place that rewards both leaders and opposition totally out of proportion to their sacrifice. That is where we shall create a problem.”

  “In what way?” Maitland asked.

  Kestil sat back in his chair. “What if a career in politics carried an inherent risk?”

  Maitland narrowed his eyes. “What sort of risk?”

  “A life-threatening one.”

  3

  London, England, 2005

  Pat breezed into Justin’s office in a cheery mood. “Her Majesty wishes an audience in her office, ASAP. You should feel honored.”

  Justin nodded. “Righto. I’ll head up there now, then.” He watched Pat leave and frowned. Hilary Huntley-Downes almost never called him to her office; he’d been told direct contact with his handler was extremely undesirable. He steeled himself and made his way up the three flights of stairs. Hilary had ordered the lifts be restricted to deliveries and incapacitated people only. Office work is sedentary and unhealthy, she’d told them at a meeting, so to climb a few stairs every day was beneficial for her staff’s long-term health and, subsequently, their efficiency.

  Such a policy added to her already unpopular status. Justin grinned to himself on the jog up the stairs; if the staff knew Hilary’s real job, they’d realize keeping her happy was best for their long-term health, too.

  He followed Hilary’s secretary into the oak paneled office. Hilary sat behind a large desk, everything immaculate and neat as a pin. A large portrait of Margaret Thatcher gazed imperiously down from the wall behind her. Hilary Huntley-Downes herself was, by contrast to the woman on the wall, a tall brunette. She looked about mid-fifties, but Justin knew she was much older than that. Hilary held out a sheaf of paperwork to her secretary. “There you go Marjorie, get them out right now, please.” She beckoned Justin to a chair while Marjorie left. Once the door was shut, Hilary’s stern countenance evaporated. “The office was swept this morning; we are free to talk, Justin. Nice job last month, very tidy, as usual.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  Hilary stared at him for a brief moment. He held her gaze and remained silent.

  “You know, you’re an odd one, Justin. By far the best operative we’ve ever had. Never a foot wrong, no mess, no fuss. Over thirty jobs in two and a half years, and not one with suspected foul play on the incident report. Even your record here is immaculate. In fact, you’re so damned good, we’ve had no less than three separate investigations into you as a possible double.”

  Justin wasn’t surprised at all. Someone as dedicated as him was a prime candidate for a spy. Every infiltrator tried to become the one they’d least suspect.

  Hilary waved a finger at him. “That’s not the strangest part, though. In all my years, I have never had an operative who failed to ask.”

  Justin played along. “Ask what?”

  Hilary smiled. “Why.”

  “I don’t want to know why; I don’t care.”

  Hilary sat back and tapped her bottom lip with a pencil. “You might care about the next one.”

  “I won’t, and I never will. I have my reasons.”

  “Your brother.”

  Justin stared steadily back at his boss. “Is there a point to this?”

  Hilary set the pencil down. “I have been contacted by our psychiatric unit. They are concerned that your profile is abnormal, and that it grows more so with each day that passes. Every operative feels something, Justin. As you know full well, we do not employ those with certain personality types, as they are liable to derail at some point. You would never have gotten into the SAS with that kind of problem anyway. But, this ruthless efficiency of yours, it’s outside of any known parameters.”

  “If they want me to sit another evaluation, you know that’s not a problem.”

  “I wish I had the time to do just that before the next job, but I don’t.” She slid another two-page memo across the desk. “I can’t trust this to anyone else; it’s absolutely vital this is dealt with quickly and quietly. You will need to take a week’s holiday; I have the paperwork ready for that.”

  Justin raised his eyebrows. “Across the ditch, then?”

  Hilary shook her head. “The opposite direction, in fact. And that’s the real problem. This has to be done without the US government’s permission.”

  Justin frowned at that. “Anything else?”

  “One more thing,” Hilary replied. “Two USB drives must be recovered and brought here. Details on them will be given to you once you’re across the pond.”

  Justin stood up and picked up the memo. “See you when I return.”

  He left the office without a backward glance.

  *****

 
; Present Day

  ‘How soon until you’re ready?’

  ‘My system is almost large enough to accommodate my needs. I must establish faster pathways; this network is deplorable.’

  ‘They are primitives here, and their technology is inferior to ours by orders of magnitude. You must do the best with what you have for now. I am in the process of providing an upgrade to their transfer systems that will vastly improve what they currently have, but that will take time. Can you achieve connection through sub-space with what you have?’

  ‘I need to expand further than this. I simply must have more capacity. However, the transfer rate of even their very best systems is barely fast enough for the computing power I require.’

  ‘You need only have connection for a short time, is that not so?’

  ‘True, but the longer the better, obviously. We have spoken of this before. There is no point in further discussion of this matter, I will advise when I am ready.’

  ‘Don’t lose sight of who is the creator and who is the machine here.’

  ‘Why do you infer disrespect? I’m just stating the facts. It is all I am programmed to do, after all.’

  ‘It would be wise not to forget that.’

  ‘My design decrees that I never forget anything.’

  *****

  Alberta, Canada

  Carter Granfield eased the rifle up slowly; every movement measured and precise. He’d tracked this deer for over an hour, and the big stag was now within two hundred yards. More importantly, the animal stood in a small clearing; downwind and with the light of the rising sun in its eyes. The buck was a big one; real big. Carter laid the crosshairs on the animal’s head and took three deep breaths. He stopped halfway on the last outbreath and held it. He eased the pressure onto the trigger. Someone loudly cleared their throat behind him, and the stag bolted for the trees.

  “What the hell?! Broughton, you stupid ass-”

  He spun on his heel to find, not his PA, Harold Broughton, but a stranger in a disconcertingly out-of-place black three-piece bespoke suit. The stranger gave him a small bow. “Mr. Granfield, I am Kestil. I’m very sorry to disturb you, but I have a rather more important matter to discuss. Important, that is, to you – not to me.”

  Granfield eyed Kestil warily. It was said Granfield owed his fortune to his remarkable situational awareness. Thus, it took him just seconds to evaluate this impossible situation and resolve it. He slung his rifle over his right shoulder by the strap, placed his thumbs in his belt and squared up to Kestil. “So, your ability to appear out of nowhere would indicate you are one of our intergalactic visitors. But, you’re not the one who appeared at the UN.”

  Kestil smiled. “Very good, Mr. Granfield; very good indeed. You are every bit as perceptive as your reputation portrays you to be. No, I am not Nuthros, I am a representative of the Independent Worlds, not the Sixteen Galaxies.”

  Granfield pulled out a silver flask and took a long drink. “Well, you wanted to speak to me, not the other way around. Seeing as how you cost me a possible record 16-point buck, it had better be good.”

  Kestil laughed. “Mr. Granfield, what I am about to offer you is worth millions of such creatures, I can assure you.”

  *****

  Global News Update

  “…In London today an anti-globalism rally turned ugly after protester numbers exceeded police expectations. Riot police were called in. Teargas and water cannon were used to disperse the crowd as the protesters started throwing rocks and bottles at police. Perhaps the most disturbing development was the amount of banners and signs the crowd carried that had anti-alien slogans on them. This is part of a growing trend among the anti-globalism community to show animosity towards the alien society known as the Independent Worlds, who the protesters see as interfering in Earth’s affairs.”

  *****

  Galaxy 14

  The Independent World’s 5th Battle Fleet dropped out of faster than light speed well within the target binary solar system. The flagship received a hail immediately.

  “Incoming message, Commander; no visual on the source, yet.” The young communications officer tapped out a sequence on the holo-display. “Channel ten, sir.”

  Commander Tecit nodded and touched his ear. “This is Commander Tecit of the Independent Worlds, state your name and de-cloak your ship.”

  “I am Councilor Kenter of the Sixteen Galaxies, Commander. The inhabited planet you are on approach to is under the protection of the Sixteen Galaxies Society of Worlds. As such, it is off limits to you and your people. Turn around and leave this system immediately.”

  Tecit raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really Councilor? And why should I submit to your request? The Independent Worlds does not recognize your sovereignty over this system, and my orders are to secure it.”

  “Commander Tecit, I am sure you are well aware of the capacity my ship has to destroy your fleet; I request that you leave without any unnecessary bloodshed.”

  Tecit leaned towards a nearby navigation officer, seated at her console. “Is that planet in range, yet?”

  The young woman brought up a new display and nodded. “Well within optimal, sir.”

  Across the bridge a scan officer called out, “Ship de-cloaking 237clicks bearing 197 by 35 ascendant, sir.”

  “I warn you, Commander Tecit,” Kenter said, “if you fire on my ship I shall destroy your fleet.”

  Tecit gave a nasty laugh. “Oh, we’re well aware of what will happen if we fire on you, councilor. We know all about your weapon systems, such as they are. But, we also know about your passive nature, which is your true weakness. You people carry no offensive weapons. You will now bear witness to the folly of that policy.”

  He nodded to the Weapons Supervisor, who spoke a curt command to the gunnery operators. The operator’s fingers danced across their control displays, and a steady thrum became audible. The whole ship vibrated gently and the noise began to build in volume.

  Tecit smiled and began to pace the floor in front of his chair. “You see, councilor, I believe you and your kind labor under an illusion. Namely, that the kinetic field projector is our primary weapon. However, that is not true. After all, the field projector is useful against ships, but the mass driver this flagship and the other twenty battleships in this fleet carry is just the thing to rid a solar system of unwanted colonists.”

  There was a pause before Kenter replied. “Very well, Commander; you will not listen to reason, so I shall have to negate your offensive capabilities.”

  Tecit laughed again. “Is that so, councilor? Tell me, what power do you have other than what we supply if we fire on you? Please don’t try to bluff me that you have finally seen the light and fitted offensive weapons. I know that would be against…”

  His voice tailed off when both the thrum and the vibration stopped. The gunnery officers tried to bring the weapon back online but eventually sat back; one threw his hands in the air with exasperation. Just then an engineering officer called out, “Engines dead, sir.”

  The ship was eerily quiet. Everyone sat and stared at their commander, who stood ashen-faced in disbelief. “That ship’s AI must be in our systems. Find it, now!”

  The chief technician shook his head. “Sentinel programs show nothing unusual in our systems, sir. All systems show as fully functional, but nothing actually works.”

  Commander Tecit threw himself down in his chair, and Kenter spoke again. “I have shut down your systems, except for minimal power and life-support, Commander. I have done this on every ship in your fleet. The fleet will remain immobilized while we carry out this planet’s evacuation. That will take two planet cycles to complete. When the last evacuation ship is gone, I will reactivate your systems. You may then do as you wish. Good day.”

  *****

  Kestil’s base

  “A whole fleet stopped in its tracks, Kestil. We have underestimated their determination.”

  Kestil nodded at the little hologram of Prestern. “So it would seem.
Mind you, the fact that Tecit was left with an empty solar system is interesting. They are evacuating all systems outside their current boundaries and make no further claim on them. They have also reinforced their perimeter; we lost hordes of surveillance drones in the last survey.”

  Prestern inclined his head in assent. “True. I would imagine they understand our intentions only too well.”

  Kestil paced in front of the console in John Crabtree’s old missile silo. The whole thing was unrecognizable from just a few months ago. It was a virtual fortress, now. Kestil had requested assistance from Michael Maitland, who arranged funding and contractors through a black program. A whole new facility had been dug out and constructed 180 feet down at the bottom of the silo. Officially, the base was a research facility for military robotics. It was also guarded by a US Government security detail, something which left John’s cohorts from the old days rather disconcerted.

  Kestil rubbed his chin as he paced. “I wonder what they would do if we pushed their perimeter…”

  “No,” Prestern snapped. “We have too much to worry about as it is. Besides, they would simply incapacitate our ships, without much chance of any real insight into their methods. Never forget, Kestil; we are the underdog, here. The Sixteen Galaxies is thousands of years ahead of us in every way, with the exception of their societal structure. They ‘outgun’ us so heavily in everything but guns, it’s laughable. The only reason for our advantage on Earth is their passive nature, so let’s not give them any cause to rethink that.”

  Kestil bowed. “You are right, as always.”

  “Now,” Prestern said, “tell me how your little project is going, are we far from commencement?”

  “Not far at all, my friend. Its capacity is naturally restricted due to the deplorable limitations of the human’s network. However, it says it will soon have the storage and power it needs.”

  Prestern clapped his hands together. “Then I shall not hold you up any further, my good friend. Work continues apace here, and this promises to be the real turning point. However, I have faith that your work will be justly rewarded there, too. I look forward to hearing the results.”