The Science Fiction Collection
by
Grant Bremner
© 2011
About The Author
Grant was born in Aberdeen, Scotland, the youngest of six children. He was forced to leave his native country to continue his employment with the BBC in London where he spent the next twenty-five glorious years working in the television media. Back surgery saw him take early retirement to Spain where he lives today with his wife Sue and their adorable little dog Pippa. His one regret on leaving the UK is that he does not see his son and daughter and his six grandchildren as often as he would like. Grant took up writing at the birth of the computer age when word processors only spoke the language of DOS. He was inspired to write stories following an interview L. Ron Hubbard gave to Rocky Mountain News where he said that budding writers should 'Write and write and write. And when you finish, write some more.' Some of his work has been published on the Internet and he won first prize in a competition sponsored by writersbillboard.net. Whilst writing takes up a lot of his free time, he still manages to pursue his hobbies of photography, playing the keyboard and reading. He is extremely grateful for the active help and support given by his wife Sue that has allowed him the freedom to do what he likes best, writing.
The Stories
Story 1 The Shattered Cube
Story 2 Times Transformed
Novelette Company Justice
Story 4 The Beginning
Story 5 The Clipper
Story 6 Games People Play
Story 7 DORIC
Story 8 Survivor
THE SHATTERED CUBE
Lazarus stood inside the temporary Galactic Court anxiously waiting for the proceedings to start, so that he could begin his defence of the Earth man. The clerk of the court was busy with a mound of papers as he sought vainly to find the correct documents to present to his Lordship which would enable the trial to begin. A small planet the size of Cirus did not usually have its own Galactic Court.
‘Get on with it you fool, we haven’t got all century you know,’ boomed the deep voice of prosecuting council Jacobsen, through the language translator that was strapped to his throat.
The manner and tone of Jacobsen’s voice only made the clerk more nervous than he already was and the pile of papers he was leafing through fell from his hands and scattered across the marble floor. He bent to retrieve them wishing that another court and hence another world had been given the dubious honour of trying the Earth man for his alleged crime. The presence of a Galactic Lord who would be seated directly above him watching his every move was something that the clerk could have done without. He usually only had to deal with traffic offenders, speeding spacecraft, helijets and the odd drunk and, very occasionally, smugglers, but this bloke was accused of genocide. and his court had been chosen for the trial, no wonder he felt edgy.
Lazarus walked forward and knelt down by the clerk and began to help him sort out his papers.
‘Thank you, most kind, I’m not usually like this,’ remarked the clerk of the court to Lazarus.
‘Think nothing of it,’ replied Lazarus easily.
‘Are you bloody well ready yet?’ demanded the Officer of the Court to the agitated clerk.
‘Ah, yes, these are they,’ he answered triumphantly thrusting the said papers under the nose of the Officer of the Court.
‘Right then, I shall inform his esteemed Lordship that the trial can begin,’ he said with an air of authority before walking briskly towards the rear entrance of the court room where he picked up his staff and brought it down so hard on the marble floor that the resounding thud echoed around the chamber for a good half minute. ‘Be upstanding for his esteemed and majestic eminence, Galactic Lord Tamuz,’ bawled the Officer of the Court as eloquently as he could muster.
Everyone present in the crowded courtroom stood up as custom dictated when the rear door opened and Tamuz, one of the seven Galactic Lords walked into the courtroom, dressed in his full ceremonial regalia including the pointed hat.
Lord Tamuz was a humanoid giant of a man who came from the Dallarian quadrant of the galaxy. His body was extremely muscular and tall, so much so that he was often mistaken for a wrestler when wearing his normal clothes. It was little wonder that he was feared by any wrong doer who had the misfortune to be sent for trial to his courtroom. He was not known for admitting new evidence that had a bearing on the case or allowing any emotional pleas prior to sentencing. He was in fact a real hard bastard who stuck rigidly to the letter of the law, well Tamuz’s law.
He strode purposefully into the courtroom and slowly mounted the steps to the large seat at the ornate bench overlooking the court. He sat down and adjusted his robes before letting his eyes slowly study the court and those who were in it.
The Officer of the Court waited until he was sure that Tamuz had finished scrutinising those present before he spoke again. ‘Be seated, and take due note that this temporary court number 1426 GTC473 is now in session, on this day 182 of the 36,297 year as prescribed in Galactic law, with his eminence Lord Tamuz the sixth Galactic Lord presiding.’
‘Clerk of the court do you have the papers ready for this case to proceed?’ asked the Officer of the court in his usual officious voice.
‘Yes.’
‘Then bring in the accused,’ said the Officer of the court loudly.
Not a sound was heard from within the courtroom as a side door opened and Alan Drew, encased within a transparent enclosed cube, was wheeled into the courtroom by two security guards who pushed the cube close to the table where Lazarus was seated. Lazarus looked at the young man from Earth and smiled briefly at him before turning his gaze back to Lord Tamuz who was already studying the prisoner closely through his deep-set jet black eyes.
‘Read the charge,' said his Lordship curtly. The proceedings were to be conducted in the Earth man’s native tongue in order that he knew what was happening and was seen to be getting a fair trial, as the entire trial was being holo-casted across the entire known galaxy.
The clerk coughed twice, nervously took a sip of water already laced with his favourite alcohol from a small glass tumbler, then said in a weak voice barely audible in the hushed courtroom, ‘Alan Drew you are hereby charged that you did with wilful aforethought commit genocide to the lawful inhabitants of the planet Cirus on or about the one hundred and sixty-fourth day of the galactic year thirty-six thousand two hundred and ninety six. How do you plead - guilty or not guilty?’
Alan remained seated inside the cube but in a loud and clear yet shaky voice said, ‘Not guilty your Lordship,’ via the translator attached to his neck.
‘Let it be noted for the record that the prisoner has pleaded ‘not guilty’ to the charge. You may proceed with the prosecution,’ said Galactic Lord Tamuz nodding towards prosecutor Jacobsen.
As Jacobsen began to outline his case against the Earth man to his Lordship, Alan let his mind wander back to the time just before the incident and pondered if there had been anything else that he could have done that day that would or could have altered the situation in which he now found himself.
* * *
On the day in question Alan had been allocated the task by the flight coordinator. He had been delighted that at long last he was being offered the chance to prove himself to the space-corps. He had completed his training at the Space Academy with honours almost two years ago, yet all of his duties so far had been as a second-flight Officer, ferrying passengers from Earth to the enclosed holiday complex on Mars. Now after two years he was to pilot his own craft on a reconnaissance mission to map the outer edges of the still uncharted outer reaches of Earth’s solar system.
It should have been no more than a normal routine flight, if you consider a flight lasting six months normal, the only difference being that he was testing the new warp engine, which was said to be capable of covering a light year every four hours at maximum warp. He would cover almost eleven hundred light years on a wide orbital flight returning to Earth. Apart from its duration, the flight was not seen as being out of the ordinary, the scientists were confident about the new warp engines, a misplaced confidence as on this occasion something had gone drastically wrong. Alan was almost halfway through his mission and feeling pleased with himself when the first sign of trouble had occurred. A warning light on the newly designed warp engine panel lit up indicating a slight loss of power. Yet no matter how often he ran the diagnostic programme it was unable to find out where the fault was and therefore unable to make any repairs. He was by then way beyond any reasonable radio response contact and therefore unable to report the fault or seek assistance from the scientists back at base. Alan had managed to calculate that if the power loss did not get any worse then he would still be able to make it home, just. The ship had emergency backup systems and more importantly oxygen and water for a seven and a half month trip. If nothing else happened to slow the ship he would make it back to Earth with about one week to spare. He would need to ration his provisions, which he began that very day.
Then fourteen days after he had first noticed the warning light, during one of his rest periods, Alan was thrown from his bunk as if his spacecraft had suddenly hit an immovable obstacle. For twenty plus minutes he was tossed about his cabin like a baby as the ship was subjected to a tremendous buffeting by an unknown force. Then the spacecraft began to accelerate with such force that Alan was stuck to his bunk by the gravitational force unable to move - then he passed out. When he came to some hours later he had sustained a number of bruises on his body and a slight head wound but thankfully nothing serious. Once he had dressed the cut on his head, he made his way forward to the control cabin which appeared at first sight to be undamaged apart from some broken glass from some of his instrument panels.
He was in the process of tidying up when he noticed that most of the instruments were haywire, giving wildly wrong readings. According to the computer he was thousands of light years off course. It was impossible to be where he was even travelling at maximum warp speed. The only conclusion he could arrive at was that perhaps the ship had been drawn along by the tail of a comet. Then he realised that that idea was impossible as the warp engines even at half speed would outrun any comet. Suddenly he remembered one of his training sessions when the subject under discussion was Worm Holes. Some scientists believed that such holes existed, that any object entering such a hole would be transported to the other end of the hole in a fraction of the time that it would take a conventional vessel. Others were sceptical and of the opinion that no such worm holes existed, stable or otherwise. However, the theory of worm holes was just that, a theory, and nothing more. But if the readings were to be believed, he was thousands of light years off course, and he could think of no other explanation. Feeling despondent that he could not contact Earth or any outpost, Alan triggered the emergency distress switch, which began transmission instantly. He also fired a distress flare which lit up the exterior of the ship like a huge, long-forgotten Christmas tree. The flares were travelling at the same speed as the ship, another bit of evidence that he was travelling through a worm hole, perhaps. The distress signal would continue to transmit as long as it had the power to do so. Suddenly the vibration of the ship changed and he became aware that the warp engines were no longer working but the impulse and thruster engines appeared to be fully operational. Had he at last exited from the worm hole?
Now the exterior cameras and sensors gave him a clear view of a host of stars and, more importantly, a planet. The planet was less than a day’s distance away if he were able to keep the impulse engines going that long. Within twenty-two hours he could be in orbit around it if his luck held and nothing else went wrong with the ship which, considering the extent of the buffeting it had taken, would in all probability require a good deal of luck.
The ship’s sensors informed Alan that the planet contained the correct chemical elements to sustain life. It had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, the air was composed of nitrogen, oxygen, argon and carbon dioxide. The planet was small by Earth’s standards, it’s equatorial diameter being one thousand seven hundred miles - slightly larger than Pluto. The gravity appeared to be quite heavy and that might take some getting used to. As Alan altered course slightly, using the thrusters to effect a safe orbit, he reflected on the reason for arriving where he had.
He was of the opinion that he had survived travelling through a worm hole which had to be stable - a permanent corridor between there and here - if only he knew where here was. If his instruments were to be believed then he had travelled the equivalent of 70,000 light years in four months, that was the equivalent of nearly 600 light years a day - the distance he had travelled had been increased one hundred fold, which made normal warp speed similar to that of a snail racing in a Grand Prix. Alan went to the computer data banks and looked up every single item he could find that was related to worm holes. He was now surprised to discover that there had been speculation for centuries now, that space windows, tunnels or worm holes existed on or near the boundaries of one galaxy in relation to another. The astronomers and scientists theorised that these worm holes would allow a mass to be catapulted like a slingshot by tremendous gravitational forces resulting in speeds thousands of times faster than light year speed. But, whatever it was that had happened to Alan and his ship, one thing he knew for sure, he was the furthest distance from Earth than anyone of his race had travelled before.
Suddenly Alan’s mind was thrust back into the proceeding of the court as he became aware of Jacobsen’s voice becoming louder and louder as he wound up his opening address for the prosecution.
‘I will prove beyond any doubt that the defendant is guilty of the most heinous of all crimes,’ Jacobsen paused for effect to ensure that all present in the courtroom would listen to his words, then he continued, ‘and that crime, my most noble Lord, was genocide. The deliberate slaughter of the entire Cirusian race.’
‘Objection my Lord, the entire Cirusian race was not slaughtered,’ said Lazarus loudly. ‘I believe that some 60 per cent were.’
‘Objection overruled,’ said Lord Tamuz harshly. ‘There is no doubt that the majority of the population died and I shall not entertain the concept of percentages in this courtroom.’
Silence descended on the proceedings as the prosecutor resumed his seat looking directly at Alan with contempt and loathing, the kind of look that was more commonly reserved for a mad dog.
* * *
Lazarus, having shrugged off his Lordship’s overrule, gave Alan a broad smile as he stood to address Lord Tamuz. ‘My noble Lord I have listened most carefully to what prosecuting council had to say throughout his opening address. It was in his usual style, lengthy yet singularly lacking in matter of detail or fact. I shall therefore keep my opening remarks brief. I will prove to you as this trial unfolds that the human known as Alan from the planet Earth did not, I repeat did not, knowingly commit any deliberate criminal act against the Cirusian race. You see before you a young man, a space pilot who through no fault of his own became lost on his journey and entered a galaxy unknown to him. His only crime, if a crime it was, was his desire to remain alive, which is the most natural instinct in all of us irrespective of our individual race or creed.’ Lazarus sat down and took a sip of liquid from an ornate bowl, his face smiling up at Alan as he did so.
The Galactic Lord leaned forward and adjusting his speech translator slightly before talking into it, said in a strong voice, ‘You may begin prosecutor by calling your first witness.’
Jacobsen stood up and said in a loud clear voice, ‘Call Doctor Praha.’
Alan turned his head in order to watch the entrance of the doctor who had examined him when he had been transported from Cirus to his prison cell and subsequently at his medical centre. The doctor entered the court from a side door at Alan’s left and walked briskly forward until he stopped before the clerk of the court. The clerk picked up a translator and placed in around the neck of the doctor who secured it in place.
‘Repeat the oath after me,’ said the clerk raising his right hand and gesturing to the witness to do likewise. ‘I do solemnly accept that I shall speak the truth on any questions that may be put to me and in any statement that I may make.’ The doctor repeated the oath and was seated facing the body of the courtroom.
‘Would you please inform the court, doctor, the condition of the accused when you first examined him?’ asked Jacobsen from where he remained seated.
‘He was a little weak from lack of nourishment but otherwise in good health,’ answered the doctor confidently.
‘Have you a doctor’s certificate relating to Earth people and their ailments?’ demanded Lazarus, the instant the doctor had finished speaking.
‘I have become quite conversant with the ailments of many species and the Earth man is no exception. Through my examination of the accused and my medical opinion it......’
‘Answer the question, good doctor. I did not ask for an opinion.’
‘Well, eh, no, I do not have a certificate but I have been able to study ...’
‘SILENCE,’ the word echoed around the courtroom. ‘A simple no is sufficient and nothing more doctor,’ said the Galactic Lord authoritatively.
‘No, I do not,’ said the chastened doctor as his face turned a bright shade of blue.
‘How many certificates do you have doctor?’ asked prosecutor Jacobsen.
‘I have twenty-three at present but I am studying a further ....’
‘Your Lordship,’ interrupted Lazarus. ‘I contend that it is irrelevant how many certificates the doctor has. He has stated that he does not have one for Earth people and is therefore not an expert on their health, so anything he might say on the matter should be treated for what it is, mere speculation.’
‘I take the point Lazarus. However, as the same could be said of any medical person throughout the known galaxies, we must have an authoritative opinion regarding the accused’s health and for that purpose Doctor Praha’s will suffice. I note the reservations you have on the matter and I shall take these fully into consideration. Proceed,’ said his Lordship nodding his large head towards Jacobsen.
‘Now doctor, you were saying that the accused was weak but nothing else was wrong with him, is that correct?’ enquired Jacobsen.
‘As far as I was able to tell, although the accused himself told me that he had developed what he called a cold whilst he was on the planet Cirus,’ stated the doctor.
‘And did you find any trace of this cold in his body when you examined him?’
‘I did not,’ answered the doctor.
‘He was healthy, is that correct?’
‘He was hungry but that was understandable if his story about being lost for days is to be believed ....’
‘Your Lordship I must prot....,’ said Lazarus before he was interrupted.
‘Defence council is correct to protest. Doctor you are to keep your opinions to yourself, stick to medical matters. If I have to intercede again you will be in contempt of this court. Do you understand?’ asked his Lordship menacingly.
‘Yes, your Lordship,’ mumbled the chastened doctor.
‘We’re off to a good start, eh,’ whispered Lazarus through his translator into Alan’s speaker in the cube.
‘If you say so,’ responded Alan without much enthusiasm as he let his thoughts drift back to when he piloted his spaceship into orbit around Cirus.
* * *
Alan had decided that it would be better to use manual control for the landing on the planet’s surface. Although the majority of the computers were working, given the problems that he had with the navigational computer he reasoned that he would be taking a greater risk if he were to rely on them for a controlled landing. He had orbited the planet seven times before he took the ship through the outer atmosphere. The battering the spaceship had endured on its journey was now just a memory as he skilfully manipulated the controls. The angle of descent ensured a safe passage through the outer atmosphere, the heat shields had glowed brightly for some time, then he was safely through. Deliberately putting his craft into a steeper descent he began to search for a safe landing area. Sensors on board had informed him where the flat terrain was located so he headed in that direction, with all cameras monitoring his downward flight.
Alan had been puzzled yet again by what had gone wrong, one moment he had been in a steady controlled approach, the next he was doing his utmost to save his life. The impulse engines had cut out without warning and his spaceship was not a glider, like the very first shuttle craft, his ship required engine power to land safely. Without manoeuvrability the ship was doomed to crash, which it did some four minutes later.
Thankfully for Alan it had crashed landed on its belly and had skidded along the floor of a valley for about a mile before it finally was brought to a halt against some large rocks. Alan had been knocked unconscious when the spaceship first hit the ground and had been blissfully unaware of the perilous journey he had taken along the floor of the valley.
Two hours later a dazed, bruised and stunned young man surveyed the wreckage of his spaceship as he stood shakily upon the surface of the planet. It had been obvious to Alan when he had clambered out of the wreckage that his long unplanned journey had now finally come to an end. The ship would never fly again, it was damaged beyond repair. It had broken into four parts, with the part containing the control room being the least damaged. Sitting down wearily on the nearest large boulder Alan surveyed his surroundings, there was some kind of coarse grass, small bushes and a few trees but no sign of any dwellings. He shivered and realised for the first time that he was very cold, his breath hung in the air like heavy dew. He returned to the broken ship and found his thermal suit which he put on quickly before searching for some materials with which he could build a fire. For the next couple of hours he laboured hard trying to build a half decent shelter out of the wreckage, grateful that most of the control cabin was intact apart from the section where it had become detached from the rest of the ship. When he finished he was pleased with the result. The large hole at the end of the cabin had been covered up with some plastic panels from the computer bays held together with duck-tape. His sleeping bunk, albeit on the small size, was jammed under the main control panel and, now that he had covered it with thermal blankets, provided a secure and warm area in which to rest. The fire was housed in a large part of the electrical ducting which he had managed to break off using one of the strong metal girders that had come loose in the crash. However, he had encountered problems when he had first lit the fire, he had not taken account of the amount of smoke that would be generated by burning bits of cable and plastic, even the small amount of wood he had managed to collect gave off dense smoke. In the end Alan had been forced to make a funnel for the smoke from the fire to escape through a hole between the panels at top of the fire. As he surveyed his work he mentally noted that the gravity was in fact a little lighter than that of Earth, which had been of help to him whilst he had laboured to build his sleeping area. Satisfied that he had done the best that he could with the tools that were available, Alan lowered himself onto his bunk just as night set in and within minutes fell asleep through exhaustion.
When he awoke the following morning he had a sore throat and was running a slight temperature. He remembered thinking that even on a strange planet it was still possible to catch a cold. With a thermal blanket around his shoulders he found some aspirin in the small medical kit then returned to his bunk where he tried to get some rest. When he became hungry he was only able to manage a little water which he found difficult to swallow. He had been a little unsteady on his feet and had begun to shiver, it crossed his mind that maybe he was suffering from a bout of flu instead of a simple cold. He reasoned that it would be best if he stayed in his bunk for the next couple of days if it was his intention to begin to look for some kind of civilization later on. There was no point in him searching the planet for any signs of habitation until he felt much better. In his present weak condition he would not have been able to travel very far anyway.
Alan took some of his remaining meagre provisions with him then he clambered back onto his bunk pulling the blankets up to his neck before he fell into a deep sleep once more. He believed that it was during his self-imposed confinement in his wrecked ship that he was first visited by curious Cirusians.
* * *
‘It was not a difficult question doctor so pray enlighten the court as to your failure to respond,’ snapped Lazarus.
‘Your Lordship I must protest at the manner in which defence council is badgering the doctor,’ interceded Jacobsen.
‘Do you now. Well it is obvious to me, and I expect to all assembled in the courtroom, that the doctor is being evasive. You will answer the question put to you doctor, NOW,’ said the Galactic Lord loudly, his eyes staring directly at the doctor who was squirming visibly in his chair.
‘Yes your esteemed majesty, err, ahem, I mean your Lordship. I consider that the Earth man is still a threat although the virus has been contained. He was the one that started the deadly plague,’ stated the doctor.
‘Now let me get this right, doctor,’ Lazarus paused as he considered how best to frame his question. ‘You have told this court that this man in the cube here deliberately caused a plague which cost the lives of millions of the Cirusian race and yet you failed to place him in strict quarantine as required by Inter-galactic law - is that correct doctor?’
‘Well no, er, not really. He, ahem, was, er, confined to my medical building for nearly fifty-three nights and nobody there caught ....’
‘Enough of this nonsense doctor, was the prisoner in strict quarantine or not? Either yes or no,’ interceded Lazarus forcefully.
The doctor bowed his head and muttered an inaudible word.
‘Speak up doctor, I did not hear your answer,’ said Lazarus authoritatively.
The doctor knew that he had to answer the question, he had prayed that it would never be asked, but it had and he could see those deep black eyes of his Lordship boring right through him. ‘No, I said no, as I did not think....’
‘Officer of the Court you are to arrest and take into custody Doctor Praha as soon as he has finished with his evidence, the charge being his failure to comply with Inter-Galactic Law number GIL-36589442, paragraph eighty-nine, clause four hundred and twenty, sub-section two,’ stated Lord Tamuz professionally although he himself was amazed that he could still remember the whole code he had just quoted.
‘Yes your Lordship,’ responded the Officer of the Court.
‘Sir, I would contend that Doctor Praha’s so called medical evidence is clearly tainted and therefore no reliance can be placed upon it. I ask that your Lordship dismiss it totally when you come to consider your judgement,’ said Lazarus eloquently.
‘Nice try, Lazarus. However, there is contained within the doctor’s evidence to this court a part that I cannot ignore and you know that I cannot. Motion denied. Continue please,’ said Lord Tamuz.
Lazarus considered appealing against his Lordship’s ruling but then he quickly dismissed the idea. He did not want to upset the Galactic Lord just when he was beginning to make some favourable progress against the prosecution case. ‘Now doctor can you tell us how much my client weighed when you met him for the first time?’ asked Lazarus.
‘I believe it was in the order of forty-eight kilos.’
‘And can you please tell us what he weighs at present.’
The doctor hesitated for a moment then replied curtly, ‘about sixty.’
‘From the medical report you were obliged to give the defence, it clearly states that the Earth man’s weight was forty-seven point six kilos when first weighed. Now he weighs sixty-eight point four, a difference of twenty point eight kilos. How would you explain the difference, Doctor Praha?’
‘Food you moron, somebody started feeding him,’ shouted a voice from the spectators area, causing a good many citizens to laugh, except Lord Tamuz, who picked up his gavel and brought it down hard against his desk. The laughter ceased instantly. ‘Any more foolish attempts at trying to make a joke in my courtroom will be dealt with most severely. Am I understood?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ answered the entire court in unison. Lord Tamuz’s reputation had clearly preceded him.
‘Very well,’ thundered Lord Tamuz. ‘Get on with it Doctor.’
‘I stated earlier that he was undernourished,’ replied the doctor belligerently.
‘I would contend that he was almost starving, in fact did you not have to place him on a drip feed as he was not capable of taking solids?’
‘Yes I did, but ....’
‘Never mind the but, doctor,’ interrupted Lazarus once more. ‘How long was he on the drip?’
‘Just over two weeks.’
‘You have a remarkable grasp of time scales dear doctor. Your own records state clearly that it was two weeks and six days, in fact very nearly three weeks. Do you still dispute that he was nearly starving?’ enquired Lazarus in an off hand manner.
‘Well now that you put it like that, I guess he might have been,’ retorted Doctor Praha.
‘You guess,’ Lazarus paused for effect. ‘Is that what the medical profession do, you make guesses when the obvious is staring you in the face. The defendant was starving when you first met him and you have the audacity to say that he was a little undernourished. Well, all I can say doctor is that I am most grateful that you are not my medical advisor. I have no more questions to put to you at this juncture,’ said Lazarus with contempt in his tone of voice.
Jacobsen stood up and looking directly at his Lordship said, ‘Your honour, I have finished with this witness for the present time but he will be required later to give further evidence regarding the plague on Cirus and its effect on the population. I hasten to add that he is not my only witness.’
‘You may leave doctor and I place you under the protection of the Officer of the Court until you are summoned again. Bring out your next witness prosecutor,’ said his Lordship curtly.
‘Praha is totally discredited, now his Lordship will not put any credence on his so-called evidence,’ Lazarus whispered into Alan’s speaker as the doctor left the courtroom accompanied by an Officer of the Court.
‘Call technician Lorro,’ said Jacobsen as he looked through the papers he had on the desk in front of him.
Alan remembered meeting technician Lorro before he was taken to Vegan. The technician had asked a great many questions about the spaceship, particularly about the engines.
Technician Lorro took the oath and sat down awaiting Jacobsen’s questions. He glanced towards where Alan was seated but did not make eye contact.
‘Tell the court your occupation please?’ Jacobsen began.
‘I’m a technician sir,’ answered Lorro.
‘Yes, yes, I know that, but in what field?’
‘Oh, eh, space sir, yes I am a space technician, first class,’ replied Lorro cautiously.
‘And in what particular field of space technology do you specialise?’ enquired Jacobsen politely, knowing that he would have to gently pry the evidence from the technician. He had been exactly the same when he had first interviewed Lorro - quite absent-minded.
‘Oh that, well I guess you could call it space wrecks,’ he paused whilst he adjusted his thought process. ‘Yes, I put crashed spacecraft back together and try and determine the reason they crashed. I do not do it on my own you understand, er, I lead a team of twenty technicians. Sometimes of course we never find out why they crashed because ....’
‘Yes we understand,’ interrupted Jacobsen quickly before his witness could complete what he was going to say. ‘Now can you inform the court and his Lordship what you and your dedicated team found when you reassembled the accused’s spaceship?’
‘Well, I remember that there were lots of little bits of wreckage to pick up....’
An immediate sustained howl of laughter sounded throughout the courtroom as the spectators present considered Lorro’s response hilarious.
‘SILENCE IN COURT,’ bellowed his Lordship so loudly that his translator continued vibrating his words for a full half-minute. With his eyes wide open he stared at the body of the court until the laughter petered out. ‘There will be no further laughter in my court or I shall have all spectators ejected, so beware. Now get on with it, Jacobsen.’
‘Let me put it another way technician, did you and your colleagues discover what caused the spacecraft to crash?’
‘No.’
‘And.’
‘And what?’ enquired Lorro.
‘Come, come, you reached some conclusion as to the nature of the crash,’ said an exasperated Jacobsen. ‘It’s here man in your report,’ Jacobsen waved the report in the air in desperation knowing now that he had been foolish to include Lorro as a witness for the prosecution.
Lazarus leaned back in his seat and a broad smile began to spread across his hairy face. As far as he was concerned things were going nicely so there was no need for him to intervene at this stage.
Alan once more let his mind return to when he had begun to explore his surroundings on the planet he knew now was Cirus.
* * *
Alan spent days in his bunk drifting in and out of sleep, completely exhausted fighting his fever. He believed it was on the forth day that he felt well enough to venture outside again even though he was still feverish and weak. He was convinced that he had heard strange voices within the wreckage of the ship during the three days he was recuperating. Someone or something out there was watching him from quite a close range, but why? Why not let him know that they were there, or were they so frightened they could not do so? He managed to light the fire with difficulty and eventually made himself a mug of warm soup which he devoured with relish, his throat was still a little sore and he had a rasping cough. He changed out of his damp clothes and put on the lightweight thermal survival suit along with a sturdy pair of boots. As he walked out of the entrance of the ship he sneezed loudly, clearly he had not yet got over his flu.
He estimated that he had spent three hours or so exploring the valley but found no sign of life. However, he was pleased to find that there was water in abundance when he came across a small river flowing gently along the contours of the valley, his water supply was getting dangerously low. Perhaps he might be able to catch some fish but after spending a good half an hour staring at the clear water he saw no sign of any fish. Sneezing more heavily than ever he retraced his route back to the broken ship.
As he lay on his bunk shivering he reflected on his short exploration that morning. There had been no sign of any edible fruit or berries, nothing in the river and he had not seen any animal tracks or droppings. He fell asleep in despair that this was where he was most likely going to die. His flu symptoms had disappeared after one full week and although he felt much better he was very low in spirit. Within a fortnight his explorations got shorter and shorter as his strength began to fail. However, he never got over the feeling that someone close by was watching him. It was at the end of his fifth week when he had but a few scraps of food left that he knew for sure that someone was watching him. For there on the bunk was a small package of food - bread, cooked meat and a variety of fruits. But why did they not show themselves?
Three days later he had gone to the river to fill up his water container when he saw two tall figures walking towards him. In his joy he had shouted to them, but he probably scared them as they turned away from him and ran away at an amazing speed. He stayed in the same place until early evening hoping that they would return but they did not do so. The following morning he saw them again only this time there were six of them and they were not afraid. They had surrounded him and slowly closed in on him, it was clear to him that they were going to capture him. He had thought of running away but knew that in his weakened condition he would not be able to outrun them. He thanked them for the food assuming it was they who had left it but they did not understand his language, or pretended not to. They tied his hands together and led him back to the ship where they collected all of his belongings before they took him to their village several miles from his ship. No wonder he had not found them as they had to walk all day, it was nightfall before they arrived at the village. It was clear to him that he was expected as most of the other villagers came out of their dwellings to stare at him. Many of them he noticed were sneezing and it was clear that they also suffered from a cold or flu virus. It did not occur to him that they might have caught the flu from him.
They were similar in appearance to Alan, in that they were humanoid, two legs, two arms, two eyes, a nose and a mouth. They were however very tall and thin. He saw no one shorter than two and a half metres, giving them a lanky skinny appearance. They spoke a language he did not understand, he spoke a language they did not understand. When he tried to communicate by simple drawings of numbers in the dirt they just ignored them.
He noticed that, as the days passed, more numbers of them were ill as they needed to be supported by others to walk. It still never crossed his mind that he was the cause of their ailments. How was he to know that, when he had been ill, a number of the villagers had visited him and they had picked up the germs from his flu whilst spying on him in his broken ship. In all he spent only six days in the village but he noticed that a number of the villagers died during that short time, as he watched the growing number of burial mounds at the edge of the village. Then when he had been in the village for ten days a helijet arrived and took him to the city, where he met Doctor Praha for the first time. Shortly afterwards the medical tests on him had begun.
* * *
‘Lorro my dear fellow, are you telling this court that there was damage to the engines of the spacecraft prior to the crash,’ enquired Lazarus.
‘Er, yes, those engines were rubbish. I’m surprised that they got as far as they did if what the man from Earth said is to be believed,’ answered Lorro.
‘Well you are a chief technician specialising in engines and I am very happy to take your conclusion that the engines were the cause of the crash. You may go Lorro,’ said Lazarus cheerfully.
‘Hold it, hey, he’s my witness. I’ll tell him when he can go or not, er, I object your Lordship,’ snapped Jacobsen.
‘To what?’ asked the judge.
‘Ahem, him ssaying, eh, that, that, my wwitness can go, your honour,’ stuttered Jacobsen.
‘Do you have anything else to ask your expert witness,’ snapped his Lordship tersely .
‘Er, no, but that’s not what he wrote in his statement. He said that he didn’t know what caused the crash. He said it might have been a deliberate crash,’ said an exasperated Jacobsen.
‘Tough, cause he’s testified differently now under oath. You may go Lorro,’ said his Lordship.
Once Lorro left the courtroom his Lordship said. ‘Gentlemen, I believe that we should have a talk in my office before we go any further.’
Both Lazarus and Jacobsen followed his Lordship into his private room adjacent to the courtroom.
‘I think that we can end this now given the testimony of Lorro. It is clear that the man from Earth did not come here to deliberately start the plague. The villagers brought it on themselves when they visited him secretly while he was sleeping, that’s when the plague began. How it spread so fast throughout the city and beyond is in part due to Doctor Praha and his team for not putting the entire village in quarantine along with the man from Earth. Praha never even put the Earth man in quarantine until questions were beginning to be asked about the deaths in the city and their cause and by then it was far too late. You with me so far gentlemen?’ asked his Lordship.
‘I concur entirely, your Lordship, this trial should stop now. There was never any deliberate action taken by my client that caused the catastrophe. Surely he has suffered enough,’ said Lazarus.
‘I don’t agree with either of you, the citizens of Cirus want his bloody head for all the deaths he has caused. After all, he caused millions to die,’ said Jacobsen.
‘Careful with your language in my chambers,’ said his Lordship. ‘The good citizens of Cirus will just have to take what they get. I propose to end this now, there will be nothing gained by continuing with this trial. So let’s get back and end this farce here and now.’
* * *
Alan Drew watched from his cube as the three men walked back into court and took their places. Lazarus smiled at him as he sat down while Jacobsen showed no emotion.
‘As the presiding Judge in this matter, I have heard enough from the testaments given in this court to give my ruling,’ said his Lord Tamuz in a strong and clear voice. ‘The prisoner will rise.’
Alan looked at Lazarus who indicated to him that he was to stand and he did so.
‘Alan Drew you are a long way from your home and when you came here albeit by accident you brought with you a deadly disease which was passed onto others who could not fight such a disease thereby causing the deaths of millions of citizens. I am satisfied that you did not bring this disease of death knowingly into this Galaxy. However, no one knows if you will contract this virus again as you have informed our scientists that it is quite a common illness on your world. Because we have no defence against it, I must with a heavy heart inform you that you are to remain in quarantine for the rest of your life, unless you ask for mercy. If you decide to do so, I tell you now that your request will be granted and you will be put to death by a lethal injection. You are a young man and, by your own admission, may live another sixty or seventy years. You will have to make up your mind within one month from today whether you ask this court for mercy.' Lord Tamuz paused whilst he took a deep breath. 'Further, I will add that it be placed on record that you were the first person to prove the existence of stable worm holes. Now that the sentence has been announced, have you anything to say to this court?’ concluded Lord Tamuz, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Alan Drew stood in his glass cube and looked around him trying to catch anybody’s eye, but nobody would look at him, not even his own counsel. What were they afraid of, were they ashamed at the verdict? Were they ashamed at themselves? He had been found not guilty of causing the deaths of millions but guilty of contracting a bloody silly flu or heavy cold, even he was not sure, and worse he had caught the damned thing on this planet Cirus. Now he had to make a decision whether to die now or stay in quarantine like his glass cube, similar to a lab rat until his natural death decades away. Yet all they have to do is to find the stable worm hole to go to Earth and bring back doctors who will help them, it’s so simple. I’ll tell them what to do, then I will let them know what I think of their justice, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but a slight tickle in his nose as a speck of dust triggered his sensory glands, then another. He did his utmost to hold back the sneeze but it was to no avail. Alan let forth the biggest sneeze in his entire life, so large was it, that its sound vibrating within the cube shattered whatever kind of glass containing him. Alan watched dumbstruck as the glass splintered then broke around him and panic set in as the people in the courtroom in abject terror rushed for the only two exits, with Lord Tamuz at the front of one stampede and prosecutor Jacobsen at the head of the other.
The End
TIMES TRANSFORMED
Harry alighted from his skimmer the moment it came to rest alongside the porch that led directly to the front door of his house. The house was impressive and of a size that befitted Harry’s status in Delcosian society. He was after all the Chairman of the largest production company in the city of Delcosia with over ten thousand employees on its books. Harry had worked hard to achieve his position having started his working life as a lowly technical assistant over thirty years ago but steadily and gradually had worked his way up the promotion ladder until he arrived at the top. It had not been an easy ride, he had studied every spare minute and taken extra classes at college to help improve his knowledge and skills. Now all those years on, Harry was Chairman of Service Units Inc one of the largest providers of industrial and home service units.
The front door opened as Harry approached it and his own service unit, named Bob, greeted him in his customary fashion.
‘Good evening sir, I hope sir had a pleasant day at the office?’
‘Thank you,’ replied Harry in an even tone devoid of emotion. ‘I did,’ he lied. But in truth Harry had had an awful day at the Office. Everything had gone against him including several members of the board whom he would have normally expected to support him.
Maxwell had evidently been plotting against him for some considerable time and Harry had been caught with his guard down. He had just managed to hang on to his position, by luck more than judgement, but clearly Maxwell was out to get him no matter what the cost.
The service unit, Bob, walked ahead of Harry and opened the door to Harry’s study. The study was tastefully furnished, elegant yet restful to the eye. Harry could not claim, nor would he wish to, that he had designed the study. Susan his companion for the past twenty-two years, had an artistic flair and everything in the house had been chosen by her. Harry had thought in the beginning that he had helped in the selection of the furnishings when they’d moved into this, their third home, but not so. Susan also had a subtle mind which she used to great effect on Harry so that in reality what Harry chose was what she wanted him to choose. Over the years Harry had come to accept her subtlety in all things associated with their home, but could she help him now he wondered, as he sat down on the soft fabric of his easy chair.
The domestic service unit Bob remained by the door as he waited for his master to make himself comfortable. ‘Ahem, is there anything I can do for you sir?’
‘No thank you Bob, not tonight, but please inform your mistress that I would like to see her in the study,’ replied Harry as he watched the unit leave his study. Usually he would ask Bob to switch on the holo-viewer but he would do that himself tonight just in case there was something on the news about what had happened at the plant today.
Harry waited a few minutes before he pressed a switch on his desk that activated the viewer. From what was being projected Harry noted that it would be another ten minutes until the news. As he waited he reflected on what he was going to tell Susan about Maxwell’s behaviour. The last thing he wanted was to alarm her unduly but he also had a duty to inform her of what was happening within the company before she heard it from elsewhere. There was a close bond between them which had matured over the years they had been together. She had seen him prosper, had given him encouragement when he might have faltered, he had good cause to be thankful for her strength. She would know something was amiss as she was only summoned to the study when he was troubled about something.
She opened the study door walked into the room smiling and seated herself at the only other chair in the study. ‘Hello Harry,’ she said warmly. ‘Bob asked that I join you.’ She paused for a moment trying to gauge what mood Harry was in. ‘Is there something wrong my dear?’ she enquired gently.
‘I’m afraid there is,’ answered Harry after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Maxwell is trying to gain control of the company and I’m not sure that I’ll be able to stop him.’
Susan detected from his tone of voice that the situation was serious. She knew who Maxwell was, she’d met him on a number of social occasions at the company’s premises. She had never really taken to Maxwell, there had been an air about him, a feeling of superiority around him that she hadn’t liked. She recalled that only last month at the executives’ dance night Maxwell had been making jokes at Harry’s expense.
‘I’ve never really taken to him,’ said Susan with venom. ‘He’s always been a high flyer, Harry, but you’ve known that ever since he joined the company.’ She paused and chose her words with infinite care before continuing, ‘Surely you’re not serious about him taking over from you after all that you have achieved for the company? And what about the members of the board? They’ve always been loyal to you in the past.’