This is Part one of “Betaen 6”.
The various parts of the story will be divided into 21 part presentations. These are the next 21.
Betaen 6. Part One. 1.
Earth. 1835 Chateau in Southern Germany
She didn’t like lounging, she never had, perhaps because her father and she had always been on the move, always running, always just one step ahead of the execution squads. These months here at the chateau had been the first peace she had known for years. If only she could stop thinking of him, of how he limped, of how he rode, of how he did anything. She watched his every move as if she were a kitten and he a ball of wool to play with. She knew how dangerous it could be but she couldn’t keep herself back. She had tried. Tried to think of him as a surrogate father, as he said he so wished. But in her heart she knew he was lying to himself, trying to keep his honor and his vision of himself. He was as enamored of her as she was of him, she could feel it when they were together.
Just the day before they had accidentally touched in the hallway. He had came out of his study as she walked by and not looking her had walked into her, she had felt his hard chest against her breasts and she had felt the response of his manhood to that accidental touch. He had stammered and apologized and quickly retreated into his study but she had seen where his eyes lay and they were not upon her face.
Betaen 6. A street in Main City. 2459.
The incessant squeak of the wheel from the luggage trolley was splitting her skull. Why hadn’t they fixed it on the ship? Maybe they had tried to. She was still so confused. That she could compute a Waverly equation and that she had even had the idea. Worse, the photo of her father. Her father had been there, on the ship, although he was dead so many years. How could that be? How could he have taken a photo of her father and she had always had it? Nothing made any sense and it made her head hurt. That damn squeak made it hurt even more.
She wanted to lash out at him for not fixing the wheel but it was her trolley and she had known about it. That would be petty. He couldn’t help it that he had taken a photo of her father and given it to him before he had ever met her. Especially because she had been with him when he took the photo so nothing made any sense.
She looked at him. He looked so much healthier now. So much like he should. Even with that slight limp that he tried to cover up but never really could.
“Why are planets named with numbers?” The question had just popped into her head
“I don’t really know” he said
“Something to do with entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“I don’t know” he said “I was a fucking natural scientist, not an entertainment scholar” he turned to her, stopping and thereby stopping the incessant squeak of the wheel “I’m sorry.” He took her hand. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Its that photo and everything”
She nodded. What else could she do?
Earth. Paris-Stuttgart tube. Km 487. 3205
Malaica was herself again, as much as she could call herself that. It was like living in a broken kaleidoscope. As a child she had once been given one and had broken it. From then on, she could see fragments of the colors, never the entire color. Like now. She saw fragments, broken pieces, of other people’s lives. People that somehow had something to do with the murder. Of that she was certain. But why would she see these people? Famous people surely, but why them? Kiera, the Comle that guaranteed the rights of old humans; Emira, famous Emira who was forced to decide; and if Malaica were not mistaken she had also just been “she”. It was insane. Never in a bin ventra had she had visions like these. Never had she felt she was living the lives of others and never had she felt that these visions were so important to what she should do. She was uncertain if the Malaica that left the tube in Stuttgart would be the Malaica that had entered it in Paris. She felt the wave again and let it take her.
Betaen 6. Part One. 2
Office of the Comle. Betaen 6. 2799.
“We couldn’t get a proofed copy of all Betaen 6 for you Comle, but we have a copy of the He Chronicles that had already been proofed.” Her adjutant laid the book on the desk in front of her.
She nodded, taking in all the folios that still lay unopened. She should open them and work. She reached for the He Chronicles and flipped it open, let the others know she was in no mood to be disturbed.
Then she let the anger overtake her. Red boiling anger. The audacity that what she was presented needed to be proofed! What idiocy were they thinking on earth? How backwards could they be?? Everything that came close to her was proofed. Proofed that it was non deadly. They had even tried Catenol! Catenol!
The idiots even used the words of He and She to support their cause. Misconstrued and out of context but still their words. Those words still carried no little weight within the Confederation.
Why else would she want to read them now? Because she needed answers. Answers she couldn’t find at the moment within herself. Answers she desperately needed. Kiera didn’t want to be the new human who copied Hope 2.
She looked across the room at the photos of He and She and the Inspector. Smiled slightly. Let her gaze move to the photo of Emira. It had taken a lot of pull, back when she was still the aide to a senator, to get that photo. That was one of the reasons why it meant so much to her. She’d had it copied and a copy of it hung in every room she spent more than a few hours in. It was her talisman. Kiera liked to think of it as a connection to She, with that enigmatic photo He had taken and yet not taken.
“How did you do it?” She asked. Only after she had spoken did she know she had.
Kiera shook her head. This would get her nowhere, so she took up the book and opened it. There was an inscription on the first page. It had once been a gift.
For Maxima. He will show you the ways.
Mom.
She began to read. Every word. Even the date of publication. It was an early copy. From only the third edition in 2525. The early editions were often more attentive to the emotions that He wrote. Lately there were movements that watered down some of the passages as being unacceptable for children. She would have to remember to have them watched – the old humans might have a hand in what Kiera herself considered censorship. Of course, there must be some control – or otherwise the Inspector recalls would never have been published – let free from classification by her predecessor Elf-Gegu. But altering the very words of He? No. She looked for the publishers' release marks on the flypaper and found them, attention to those little details had helped Kiera to the position she now held.
The He Chronicles. As written by He during the time of trial.
Kiera smirked. No one called it that anymore. She couldn’t remember all of her history class, though she wished she could – Kiera had the feeling that it was the past that would be the most important right now. Then she would know when the time of He and She before the assimilation were called “the trials”. Many of her childhood friends had been She fanatics but she hadn’t yet been that interested in He and She and the assimilation when she was young. She had only become interested in it her first University year because of the Professor who made He and She come to life in her lectures and the 300-year celebrations of assimilation that took place that year. Kiera thought it hadn’t been easy for them and, no she wouldn’t think of that now. She wouldn’t think that they couldn’t assimilate, the two who had opened the Zater, that they had died without knowing the freedom and peace of assimilation. She knew, as a new human, that life and death were infinitesimally intertwined, yet she still felt a pang of sadness at the ending of the physical. It was what the N’Hai N’Hai had so dreamt of, so desired. Physicality. So, it was a time of sadness when it was lost. Kiera thought back to that date – the 300-year celebrations. She had been so young. The flags, the bands, the crowds, she could still feel the joy and the wonder of that time.
Betaen 6. Part One. 3.
Betaen 6. 3.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” Written 2459-2467. Anomaly occurred 2457.
It was the routine run to Betaen 6. Nothing special. Three jumps. Before the flu it could have been done in two. But the navigators were a damn lot better before the flu. A lot better. The worst of any jump was the preparation and the let down. The navigation team had to dope themselves up – one half doped, one half sober – and then work out the calculations and the all the other shit I didn’t understand that needed to be done for a jump. Depending upon how good they were that could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Our navigation team would be one of the in between ones. The first jump calculation had taken them 12 days. So we had time and were just strolling through the ship. It was better than playing rummy in the lounge or some stupid physical game in the gym. Sometimes you could pretend as if you were just walking at home on a planet. You just had to pick the right hallways. The ones with sky and trees or sea and stuff. Those were the ones where the suites were. We didn’t have a suite, but it didn’t keep us from walking in their corridors. It was a bit like a game with us. So, we were walking down one of those beautiful corridors, I can remember (at least I think I can) that it was a seascape we were walking by, hand in hand, and came around a corner and there was a soldier crouched down with his beret under his epaulet and a welder's mask covering his face because he was repairing a pipe. I thought, man that’s a good photo. For some weird reason that I don’t understand to this day I had my camera with me. The little one.
I took it out of my pocket, snapped a photo of him and we walked on. Then she asked to see the photo. I thumbed it back on and showed her the screen.
She turned pale like vanilla ice cream and just said “oh my god.”
She didn’t believe in a stupid God of course but it was something she’d picked up and would say when she was surprised. Probably came from the school she went to. It was pretty arcane from what she’s told me. I asked her what was wrong. She just pulled me and spoke.
“We have to get back to our cabin and quick.”
So, I followed her like a puppy back to the cabin, down probably six flights of stairs to get there (we didn’t have a nice cabin you may think, and you’d be right) - and there on the wall - was the photo I had taken of the welder. I had never noticed it before.
She looked at me and cried.
“That’s a photo of my father that I’ve had since I was a little girl!” She was flustered and spun around on her heel like she was dancing “You’ve seen it before! It’s the first thing I hung on the wall of the bedroom when we moved together!”
I swear by that God she called upon – whoever and wherever it may be – that I had never seen that fucking photo before. But if she said she had always had it I had to believe her, why would she lie to me about it?
I looked and it was the same photo. She tore it from the wall and flipped it over and began to claw at the tape and backing paper. I grabbed her hands and held them. Held them tight, asked. her
“Do you really want to do this? If you’ve always had it, it can’t be the same fucking photo I just took. I just took it. You were there” I think maybe her hysteria was rubbing off on me. I felt queasy and out of place. I had only ever felt out of place with her the first time she sat at my table.
She nodded although the tears were already coursing over her lovely cheeks. Dripping onto that strange tattoo she had on her right arm. The one with her memories. For some reason I wondered if someday I’d be ink in her skin. The thought calmed me. I noticed, probably for the first time, that there was a 12 there. Strange. My wife had a 12 tattoo. Maybe it was a woman thing. Didn’t matter now anyway.
I let her go and she ripped off the backing paper.
And there it was - an inscription “for my friend “ - and the scrawl that was my signature. She looked up at me as she sank onto her bed. Her eyes never left mine, but I don’t think she could see through the tears.
Betaen 6. Part One. Four.
Betaen 6. 4.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467.
Anomaly occurred 2457.
But that photo was the least of our problems. Believe me. Because right then, as we looked at what was a damn good forgery of my signature by some sick fuck who wanted to fuck her up, they jumped. And it fucked up. And that really, really, fucked things up. Really.
The jump fucked up.
That was the consensus.
Really fucked up.
That was the feeling in the com room.
Where are we?
That was the nice version of the question everyone was asking.
No one wanted to ask the elephant hanging in the room -
When are we?
The Captain had called me and her up to the bridge and we had went into the room beside it. No idea what it’s called. But it’s a nice room and it’s got a table and chairs and all the shit you need. Even a coffee machine. She called me because we had been friends, well not friends, but we had known each other before the flu. Before the first wave. Not just before she died. Not the captain of course. She. My wife. She – the one who is here, not the ones in my mind – she wants me to write her name. My wife’s name. I wrote her name a couple of days ago, let it rest at that. I did it. I don’t have to do it again. It hurts too much and I don’t want to write it again. It doesn’t help me to write it. It doesn’t. Trees. Moss. Lights, blue lights… oh fuck no. No. No. No. No. Better than that no no no.
She died in the flu. The fucking flu. Women don’t die from the flu. They just don’t. How the fuck could she do this to me? How?
The Captain called me because she needed a friend, someone outside, who could look at the problem and she remembered I had been a scientist and should be able to look at the problem logically. I know you won’t fucking believe it but it’s true. Someone wanted me for my mind. Fuck you dear doctor who isn’t Fehm. Fuck you. Yes I know I’m doing it again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There. Go write another note in that stupid tablet about me. How I’m regressing or whatever the fuck you call it. I brought her along because she was a cop. Maybe we needed a cop. How did I know? How does a jump fuck up anyway?
So, the question was:
When are we?
It sure as hell wasn’t when it was supposed to be. Because if that planet on the view screen was Betaen 6 it was long before any terra former had seen it.
She looked at me and I looked back at her. Smiled what I hoped was a confident smile. Her eyes still glistened from the tears.
Betaen 6. Part One. 5
Betaen 6.5
Earth. House of Margaret Zeit. 2001.
Her son Samuel called out from the study.
“Hey Mom!” He yelled “I’ve got something really interesting I think”
He came out of the study carrying a large red leather covered box. There was golden embossing on the top but most of it had already worn off. Margaret shook her head. She wondered, as she always did, how she and her husband had had such a sickly son. Her husband - David - had been in such terrific shape all his life until the tragic accident on the ski slopes had taken him from them. She herself still looked twenty years younger than she was and she had noticed the admiring glances from the younger men the last time she had swam laps.
“What is it?” Samuel asked. He insisted on being called Samuel. He had never let his name be shortened to Sam by anyone. It had cost him more than one bloodied nose and Margaret could still see the slight scarring where it had been broken when he was nine.
“It looks like one of those Dispatch boxes from an English spy movie” he said.
Margaret laughed.
“True. It should” she said.
Samuel just looked at her. Going through his fathers study was hard on him. True there were interesting moments, like now with the red leather box, but he’d much rather have his father back.
“It is a dispatch box. Your grandfather bequeathed it to your Dad. So it’s yours now. “
“Grandpa was a spy?”
“No Samuel” she laughed again “his grandfather bequeathed it to him. Your grandpas grandfather - that was his box”
“So my great great whatever grandfather was a spy?”
“Sorry to disappoint you but no, if I remember what your grandfather used to say, he was a cavalry officer. Give me a minute, I’ll come up with it. “
Samuel sat across from her in the deep leather couch that had been in the family forever. He took the large key ring from his pocket and started trying different keys on the locks.
“That’s it” Margaret said” A Lieutenant General, that’s what he was. A war hero as well. At least until the scandal. “
Samuels ears pricked up. The word scandal was always good for something although so many years ago what could it possibly have been - lost a horse or something?
“Scandal?” he asked.
“Yes” she said. “I don’t really know that much about it. Your grandfather would have known more. He was very very close to his grandfather. He never really knew his father you know. His grandfather brought him up. A bit like you. Your father was also always away on some new ski adventure for his you tube channel. Your grandpas father that was different though “
“How so?”
“ If I remember correctly there was a horrible scandal that ruined the family. It’s probably in that box somewhere. Your Grandpa used to say there was enough in that box for a dozen dirty novels”
Samuel smiled. He looked much less sickly when he smiled and the sight lightened Margaret’s heart. He had opened the dispatch box. Found the correct key among the hundreds of keys that had been in the top drawer of Donald’s desk. He sat for a while just looking at the scuffed red leather before he opened it.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” questioned Margaret.
He nodded. His hands shaking he opened the box.
“It’s full of papers and letters” he said.
“Well” said Margaret.
Samuel closed his eyes, put his hand in the box, and pulled out a scrap of paper. There was a scrawl of words across it.
Betaen 6. Part One. 6
Betaen 6.6
Street, Main City. Betaen 6. 2799
Gabriel had seen her as she entered the apartment complex. The demoness herself. Like many of the demons she was physically perfect. Peter had warned them of that. Physical perfection often hid the possession and evil within. Her consort had walked beside her, laughing. How could a man cavort with a demoness? She was beautiful, he must admit that – but she was evil. Did her consort not feel her possession? Gabriel shook his head. Of course not. He too was possessed. According to the vision he too must die. Then, and only then would the possessed be freed.
A policewoman tapped him on his shoulder. He jumped. He had been thinking of the ball.
“Sir?” She said “This area is restricted. You can't loiter here.”
“I am sorry” he stammered. “Its just that I saw the Command Leader. I was in awe” he hadn’t even lied. He had been.
The guard just nodded. That happened often, especially with off worlders. The aura surrounding Kiera was very strong, she could feel it even here on the street. They were so lucky to have her as Comle, she was still so young, she would lead them for many years.
Gabriel walked on. It didn’t matter now anyway. The ball and the umpire had been placed in the front garden. Yhomad could trigger the explosion from a kilometer away. He would take up his watch outside the restricted zone. Perhaps he would be asked to move on once more. He would just have to be careful not to think of the ball again.
That thinking of the ball was their mistake. Instead of shaping the charge and directing it they left it as a ball. None of them had studied, why should they, they were believers and God would give them everything they needed. All they had to do was believe and obey. How would they know that a round charge dissipates in the form it was made – as a large circle? If they had used less Cepetedium the bomb would only have left a crater in the garden and perhaps made the windowpanes move. But they had enough Cepetedium to destroy a block and even a badly made bomb does damage if it is large enough. Their bomb was large enough.
Gabriel was stopped twice before he left the restricted zone. The plan was that Yhomad would not detonate the bomb until he had confirmation from Gabriel and Ruth that it was placed and ready. His confirmation was to wave his green scarf. Ruths´ was to remove her headscarf and toss her hair. Only then would the bomb be detonated. Gabriel let the policewoman check through his documents. The first time he had been stopped he had felt fear. Now he felt nothing. They didn’t know what he planned. They didn’t know who he was, all his papers were in order. A pilgrim to Betaen 6. To the shrine of He and She. That he wandered through the city was to be expected.
Betaen 6. Part one. 7
Betaen 6. 7.
Earth. 1835. Chateau in Southern Germany Earth timeline
They stood at the door, letting the warm evening breeze blow over them. He smelled jasmine. He smiled at her, sure to keep it to a small smile, a friendly smile. Her face lit up. It was as if the sun was rising again instead of falling. He felt his heart leap a beat and his hand, the one so close to her he could feel the heat emanating from her young body, trembled. She glanced at him and her smile became smaller but at the same time more intimate. Suddenly he felt her soft hand rest on his left buttock. He looked at her, startled. The smile never changed but there was a slight pressure from her palm. He shivered slightly. No. He couldn’t let this happen. He stepped quickly down the stairs and into the evening air of the courtyard. “I have to check the horses” he said.
The horses were calm. Why shouldn’t they be? The mares were not in estrus, the geldings no longer thought of sex. But his racing heart and his sweaty plans belied the lie he kept telling himself over and over. He wanted her. He patted the neck of the big brown stallion, his favorite steed. He whinnied slightly and butted him softly in the shoulder with his nose.
“You know old fellow?” He asked, softly rubbing his nose “You sense it on me?” The horse didn’t reply but turned back to his hay.
He wiped his sweating brow with the handkerchief the general had gifted him in the field Lazarett the day after he had been wounded. His knee pained him. He snorted through his nostrils like the horses did. It was not his knee that pained him now. It was his heart.
He should go back. Return to the house. Sit in the garden room with his wife and their young visitor. Make pleasantries and pour the wine. His hand trembled as he thought of the cool white Rhine wine as it would touch her lips. Those lips that had drawn him into their spider web with a simple smile. Those lips he so wanted to - no. He must stop this madness. He was at least twice her age. He was an old cripple long past his time. He had given up on passion when he had given up on himself. He didn’t have it in him anymore. The Austrian bullets had taken part of it, the forgetfulness of his former comrades the rest. His life as squire had put the final nail in the coffin housing his passion. He had nailed it so strongly shut he couldn’t fathom how to open it.
He forked some hay listlessly to the mare.
What was she doing to him? He hadn’t had these feelings since before the last war. Before. He thought. With him it was always before. With others it was what would be. But he looked back. He had even as a child. Always looking back. He knew it was because he was too afraid of the future, of what it might hold. He stood there, next to the pile of hay the groom had left , leaning on the pitchfork, unconsciously removing the painful weight of his useless body from his useless leg. Old and useless. He smiled wryly. Like the stallion. Both of them now old and useless. He couldn’t even walk him without pain.
Her voice startled him.
“General? Are you there? Madame sent me to find you”
“I’m in the stalls” he called “just with the horses for a moment. The cavalryman never really leaves you. Tell Madame I’ll be right up”
But then she was there, beside him in the darkening stall. The sun was sinking rapidly and the shadows stretched their arms along the ground. He could hear her breath and see the movement of her bodice as the luscious evening air moved in and out of her young lungs. Yes, he thought, think of kings and air and the men you have seen bubbling and drowning in their own blood. Think of war. Don’t think of her supple young breasts and the quiver as she breathes. Don’t think of those red lips, her tongue just between them, slightly parted. Don’t think how quickly she was drawing her breath or the flush upon her beautiful cheeks.
Betaen 6. Part one. 8
Betaen 6. 8.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
My psychiatrist was pissed at me. Maybe its OK she’s pissed at me. Maybe she isn’t even pissed at me, and I just imagine it. She is a professional after all. Maybe I just read in what I want it to be. I think my psychiatrist even told me that once. That some of my memories are just things I want them to be. Like the tattoo. I don’t know what it is with the woman. The photo and the tattoo. Was I really certain it was a photo of her father? How the fuck would I know? Like I said a million times I never knew her father. He was dead long before I met her. Dead in the flu. The flu that took her. The first her. The one with only two tattoos, if she even had a tattoo. Fehm has got me so messed up I don’t really know anymore. Maybe I did create it because I think they are one person. But I know they aren’t. See. I know they aren’t. Well, most days. But she – the she that’s real on Mars, she says that it is probably a creation of my mind because I want them to be one. That I can’t accept the loss and can’t accept my guilt. I do – although she and the parole board say I don’t. But what the fuck do they know about them? I know they were two. At least I think they were.
Now she wants me to write something professional. Whatever the fuck that means. No idea what she meant but this is what I wrote. I think she’s just pissed at me because I wrote that I could have killed her. She should be happy; doesn’t it mean I accept she isn’t my daughter? You don’t go around wanting to kill your daughter, do you?
After the problems began to appear on Betaen 6 it was decided relatively quickly that they should terraform seven. Then they would set up the colony on 7 but still be able to mine 6 at a profit. It was just inside the mandarin belt as they had come to call the life zone. The work began at great expense to the company and a large number of earth investors and stopped at great loss when the Ritluvian flu ripped through the universe, or at least the parts we know of it.
After that we didn’t need any more planets. Just the ones that had minerals and things we could use. Especially anything we needed in space flight - and without Lutetium and Dysprosium there were no spaceship hulls - and to be worth anything the damn thing has got to be big.
That’s what I learned in school.
You may ask why we are still on Betaen 6 even though the problem still exists? Why every space-liner in the business stops at that damn planet? Why humans try to eke out a living on, above, and below its surface?
That it’s got the known universes greatest deposit of what we still call rare earth metals might just have something to do with it.
Why should they be rare on a planet that isn’t earth? I asked that once in physics class. Wasn’t looked upon well. Spent the next seven days in detention. Met my future wife then. A woman who would go down in history - not for her accomplishments but for her death - she was one of the 105 proven cases of death from Ritluvian flu in a woman. 4 and one-half quadrillion men and 105 women. She had to be one of them. Just had too.
Betaen 6. Part One. 9
Betaen 6. 9.
Excerpt from the “He chronicles” written 2459-2467
I‘m having nightmares. Or dreams. Depends on how I feel when I‘m awake my psychiatrist says. She wants me to write them so I‘m doing what she wants. Every once in while I can be nice to her. Maybe she will write something good about me in that damn tablet. In the nightmare-dreams I am someone else but at the same time I‘m not - its strange. Sometimes I‘m some old man and sometimes I‘m even me, but mostly I am some old man.
It was raining. I had my collar pulled up and I was wearing a hat instead of carrying an umbrella. She was walking beside me. She was letting the rain fall through her hair. It wasn’t that strong a rain yet, but we both knew it would be. It was that time between evening and when it gets really dark; to our right it was already dark on a pond or lake of some sorts and to our left the beginning of lights, probably from a city.
I looked up into the rain, the sky was gray, which was to be expected and I looked at her and thought again how beautiful she is, and then I realized I wasn’t me - I was someone else. She looked at me and spoke
„ How are we going to prepare him for when it starts?“
I looked down at my feet, I noticed that the hems of the trousers I wore were frayed and thought I might need a new pair, then back up at her, then again up at the sky letting the rain wash over my face, again then back down at my feet. I think I was trying to formulate some answer. We were still walking.
I said „I don’t know.“
But I don’t know who I was, there was nowhere where I could look in a reflection. The hands I held up to look at were old and there were yellow stains on the index middle finger of the right hand - a smoker I thought - but I still didn’t know who I was and that’s when I woke up. She had been there though. I don’t know who I was, but I knew it was real. She was talking to someone. About me, I think. She still thought of me. She wasn’t dead.
Fehm was not impressed with my interpretation of the dream.
„You could have done so much better“ she said and gave me that woman look again – the one I knew from my wife and from the cop „But you had to interpret she was alive. Why?“
I had already decided to go sit on the ledge and just watch so I didn’t answer her. Emira was pissed at me too, although she’s long been dead and has accepted me and the cop. She even said it. Told me to get back down there and participate, this was important – or did I want to stay in prison all my life? So I reluctantly went back down. I don’t know why women are all so pushy? Is it the X chromosome being there twice?
I decided to answer her as honestly and lucidly as I could.
„I don’t know“ I said
She looked at me for a long moment. I think she expected a different answer. Then she wrote something in her red tablet. I hope it was good.
The dreams won‘t stop. I‘ve been here for years and never dreamt before and now they roll over me like waves on the seashore.
Betaen 6. Part One. 10
Betaen 6. 10.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
This time I wasn’t the old guy. I was Jeff. I was sitting with us. With Emira and me. See Fehm – I can write your mothers name. I can write it again if you want me to? What happened to you after she died? When the flu took her? What happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn’t you stay with me? Was I so fucked up I couldn’t care for you? I am sorry if I was. I lost everything when I lost her and then I lost it all again when I lost the second her. I think I even forgot about you. I don’t now how or why but I am so sorry that I did.
I was Jeff though and the old guy wasn’t there. I was. The real me. Emira. We were all drinking coffee. It was the day Emira read my poem. The one she liked. She didn’t like many of my poems. She wasn’t a poem person she used to say. I – Jeff I – looked at me and her and smiled. I had a secret that I couldn’t tell them. A secret about everything. I had the answer to everything. In dreams you can be more than one person and I know the me that wasn’t in the dream – the dreamer me, the one locked in the cell on Mars – he thought Jeff was insane. Or just stupid. Because the answer to everything couldn’t have anything to do with Scotland. Or a kiura. That was just a word I made up. At least thats what Fehm says. Where the fuck had he got that idea?
I, Jeff, knew this secret but I didn’t let on that I did. I just kept up the normal conversation although I knew that the reason I was there was because of the secret.
„Pers is on his way to Betaen 6 next week“ Emira said
The real me nodded.
„He’s a natural, isn’t he?“ the real me asked „Got you though all those Ministry Visits in half the time it would normally have taken?“
Emira smirked.
„A quarter. I was only away two years remember? With any other navigator team, it would have taken us at least 6 to 8 years to complete all those visits“
He – the he who was me - reached across the table and took her hand. She looked at him strangely and pulled away.
„We aren’t at the hand hold stage anymore“ she laughed and sipped at her coffee.
„No“ I said - the Jeff I in the dream “You two have been together for almost twenty five years. Two kids. Careers. Lucky your daughter is away in finishing school“ I didn’t remark about the flu. How it took their son. How lost they both had been.
He laughed. The he that was me.
„True“ he said „Never would have been able to start the business if they were still living with us“
I wondered why he didn’t say anything about his son. Usually he did. I thought maybe if I talked about the flu he would open up, I didn‘t like him being so closed, I knew how much he missed his son. How he blamed himself.
„I hear the next wave of the flu is coming“ I said „Already the first deaths on Pesces 4 and Betaen 6. It’s not that far. What only four jumps?“ That was all I could say about the secret. If they were smart enough, they would figure it out.
Emira nodded and looked sad. She had lost all her brothers to the flu, friends, a son. Everything had changed. I knew that more would change. But that it would require sacrifices that not everyone might be prepared to make. That too was part of the secret I knew. I was so smug. I knew so much that no one else knew. But how? And what did I know?
I knew that the problem was really called the N‘Hai N‘Hai. I knew that there was a research lab on Earth dissecting candidates who showed special abilities. I knew …
I woke up screaming because the real me knew that they were all dead. The real me knew they were all dead and I was creating this. I broke down sobbing into my blankets. All dead. All lost. Gone forever. All of them. My wife. Her. My children – if I ever had them and it didn’t fucking matter because even if they were real they were gone. Like Emira. Gone. Like her, my cop. Gone. Like Jeff. Probably even like the old guy. All gone forever. Probably even me. I felt so adrift, as if I wasn’t even on Mars anymore. As if I was everywhere at once.
Betaen 6. Part one. 11
Betaen 6. 11.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” Written 2459-2467. Anomaly occurred 2457
The navigation team had the board. Theirs was the most important task at the moment. They all looked harried and as if they hadn’t slept for a while. It was true. They hadn’t.
The chief navigation pilot stood up after her subordinate had finished her presentation.
“Thank you Lodi” she said and strode to the front of the conference room - the nice one with the holographs of mountains and rivers along the walls - and flipped on the wall screen to a star map.
She tapped the screen with her finger and a small red dot began to pulse.
“That is probably - to 99.7 percent accuracy- our position.”
The captain looked at the dot and at her pad.
“Then it is Betaen six” she said.
The navigator nodded.
“But as you understood from Lodi’s presentation- we have the dual problem that stars and planets move, they don’t keep still. And as we are still uncertain exactly when in time we are we have to guess at a lot of parameters. We’ve even went back to using a Peterson star sextant.”
The captain sipped at her cold coffee. Then she looked around the room. Her gaze stopped on me.
I questioned her with my eyes.
“What do you think?” She said „it’s your fucking photo”
I laughed. What else was I supposed to do. My photo? Which my? I’d never known her father - not in any way I could imagine it. She was younger than me but that was normal since the Ritluvian flu had wiped out over 90 percent of the males. Young yes, but she wasn’t that young.
“Maybe we should find that damn welder” I turned and looked at her, she still had tear stains on her cheeks. “Sorry. Your father.” She smiled a small smile, not a happy one.
“The thing is” the Captain looked at us “there are no soldiers on the ship”
Someone whistled between their teeth just as she tightened her grip on my hand.
I looked back at her. What was going on?
Betaen 6. Part One. 12
Betaen 6. 12.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” Written 2459-2467. Anomaly occurred 2457
She had the idea. No one else had thought of it. If we were in the right place but at the wrong time - and the computers had recorded the right time and the Waverly they used - all we had to do was jump back. Reverse the Waverly wave of the jump equation. Just the Waverly. Then we would stay in place but not in time.
I’d never thought she’d have such an idea. But she had.
I looked at her while she stood on the bridge and discussed the entire thing. I couldn’t believe it. I can’t believe it now. Even though I know it worked. And what the cost was.
I still can’t fathom why she did it. And I damn well will never know how she did it. She was a cop. Not one of those navigator types. A cop. I really can’t.
Fehm wants me to write about that night. The night I lost her. The second her. The one with an armful of tattoos. I know she wants me to write how I killed her, where her body is, but that isn’t what happened. I swear.
Betaen 6. Part One. 13
Betaen 6. 13
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467.
He opened the door. Laughing. Joyful. Reached for the light. Flipped it on. The first volley shattered the fine woodwork of the frame. The second split the tiles above his brain. He should have turned away when he didn’t have to pull the key from his pocket. The door was unlocked - and it was dark.
He dived. Onto the cold marble floor. Suddenly there was light, blinding blue light, blue searing light. Everywhere.
The floor was cold. But its touch against his skin reminded him of something. Something old. Something he had felt years and years ago. The cold touch of forest moss upon his cheek. He knew it. He thought if he only could remember enough, he could again wrap his arms around the beech. Feel it’s life. It had been so alive. The bark, the harsh coolness emanating from it.
But no, this was life. This was real. There were no dreams. He could hear the sharp click of their heels on that cold floor. The wind suddenly blew from in front of him and he knew they had opened the door.
Now she wants to know why I wrote in the third person. Why no I. Is she a literary critic or a psychiatrist? Really. I can't write about that night except that way. I tried. I even started it with I left to take a photo of the moon. I got that far. I couldn’t go any further, only if I write it as he. Only he. He. He. He. He. He. He. Oh fuck, I’ve started again.
Write something nice about me. This is chronological. Except for an admission of my guilt and acceptance that you aren’t Fehm, that’s what you want most isn’t it? Chronology? Write something positive about me in that red tablet.
Betaen 6. part one. 14
Betaen 6. 14.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
I broke out laughing there was really nothing else to do in the situation, nothing else. The interrogator looked at me askance, asked me the question once again. Now I was laughing so hard I was crying - had I wanted to cry all along?
„Why?“ he asked „Why?“
I gulped back a sob and stared at nothing through the film of tears.
“Because I left the door open,” I said, “because I left the door open.”
The interrogator spit on the table “I wrote the fucking book about Betaen six.“ he said.
“I left my door open for three years, told her never to do the same! Don’t lie to me you bastard!” he snarled.
“Why did you kill her you fucking bastard?” He looked at me “Why?”
I just stared at him – I knew him – I knew this man snarling at me but how? - she was gone so they could all just fuck themselves.
It was a good point to stop. The tablets they had given her for the pain made Kiera tired and muddled her mind. Not as muddled as poor He had been. She could see the communications in it, the N‘Hai N’Hai reaching out to him though He himself never knew it at that time. The photo. So much loss and so much pain.
Betaen 6. Part One. 15
Betaen 6. 15.
Betaen 6. Main City. Apartment of the Comle. 2799.
Ah-Geld-Rid swallowed again although her mouth was dry.
“It is my job Comle” she said “It is my duty.”
With her free hand she made the sign of the children of Emira. Kiera signed back. They needn’t say anything more to one another. It would bring nothing.
Kiera sensed the movement within her friend. She was accepting. She had used her title and that meant it was now time for work.
“Your report my Colonel?”
“Twelve infiltrators were killed. Five of them were men. We tried to take them alive, but they wouldn’t stand down. Some of them took their own lives, we could not stop them. 6 died firing at us. We have a crew investigating how and where they appropriated weapons“ the Colonel breathed deeply, the night had been trying for her „21 others are in custody. The report I have brought you is from the memories of a young man and woman. Both fanatics, but both seem to have been influenced by a man they call Peter“
Kiera nodded. She knew of him. She had not expected he would be so dangerous, and so flippant with the lives of his flock, especially those of men.
“Are there are others?”
The Colonel nodded.
“Certainly” she stood up and slightly inclined her head. Kiera knew it was thanks. “But we are questioning witnesses and all those who have had contact with the thirty-three. There will be more by the evening. We will also know more then.”
“Any news from the University researchers how we could not have seen it in our timelines?” Kiera was decidedly curious on that point.
“Not directly but Eric was able to tell the physicians that he had a strange timestamp.”
“About He and She, am I correct?” Kiera looked up at her “Why we do not call them by their names?”
The Colonel started.
“How did you know?”
“I had the same timestamp, in my office, earlier yesterday.”
The Colonel pulled out her tablet and released the bio locks. Handed it to Kiera.
She read the page, flipped to the next and the next and the next. Hundreds of names. All with the same timestamp. It had been so grey, so uncertain, that no one, not one of them, had thought anything of it.
“So we did know?”
The Colonel shook her head.
“Not really. It is, according to the scientists, a timestamp like an old communication from the N’Hai N’Hai to He. Like the famous photo. One that is difficult to understand but shows the path.” She snorted. “the more fanciful think it might be a kiura” she snorted again. “A myth. I told them to concentrate their intelligence upon reality.”
Kiera smiled slightly, she had heard that word lately, or read it. There were more pressing matters so she ignored it, like the Colonel. Work and duty came first.
Betaen 6. Part one. 16
Betaen 6. 16.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
My psychiatrist did not like that dream at all. She was pissed at me – to put it mildly. She even yelled at me. She’s never done that before.
„Why are you regressing?“ she yelled at me „You were doing so well! Acceptance. I could see acceptance! And now you call me your daughter, create an entire reality where you had a family and you have some big special secret!“ She shook her head and sank deep into her chair “Fuck this.”
Yes, my psychiatrist said fuck this. So I am certain I didn’t do well with that dream. Not at all. I thought maybe my admittance that I was creating it before she even asked me to admit to it would have got me some points.
„Go away“ she said and I could see she was crying.
I have always hated it when women cried. I have to try and comfort them. I have to. I walked over to her and sank to my knees. She had a hand in front of her eyes and I could see the tattoo on her wrist. A C and a backwards E. I hadn’t created it. I hadn’t created her. I was certain of it.
„You are Fehm aren’t you?“ I asked
She didn’t answer but she didn’t deny it either.
„I don’t know what happened“ I said „I really don’t. Not with you or your brother or your mother. Not even with her on Betaen 6. I probably did kill her and hide her body. I don‘t know why, but then I don’t know many things do I sweet Fehm?“
„No one has called me that for years“ she said and let me take her in my arms.
Betaen 6. Part One. 17
Betaen 6. 17.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
I think I created that too. I so wanted an history, a family, something I could grasp, that I created everything I needed. But I must have done something right. That was my last session with my psychiatrist and I almost stopped dreaming I was someone else until I had one last dream that was even stranger.
I was an old woman. Sick. Dying. But somehow I knew that death wasn’t what we all thought it was. Maybe that was the secret I knew as Jeff in the dream before? I was preparing a Kiura. A Kiura. I knew that word. It was my word. Which isn’t unexpected as this was my dream. You see, I am getting more lucid. Maybe they will even let me out. I was afraid it wouldn’t work, that everything would be lost. I felt that as I wrote. I was writing a letter to someone named Kiera. I told her she was a child of Emira. I’m lucid enough to know I am creating things I want. I just can‘t name the people I want to still be alive. I almost wrote her name. I felt I could have.
I was scared and hopeful at the same time. A strange feeling. I knew I had but hours to finish the Kiura and had so much to do. I also knew that somehow there were two old humans – what the fuck was an old human? – perhaps the inspector, he was old? - that were vital to everything. Without them nothing could be. They were the only ones who could be more than one at once. Be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I, the real me who was dreaming, I know I smirked right then thinking „this fits. Go off into loo loo land you fucking idiot. Prove them right“
But the old woman she was vehement that there were two and only two and that they could be many. What the fuck, other than absolute insanity could that mean? And who the hell was Kiera? I, the real me, had never heard the name before. I thought maybe it was the name of my son, the one they say I created to escape a reality I can‘t live in, but somehow I think it’s a girls name. Not as nice as Fehm but still a girls name. I was still in that quandary when I awoke in a cold sweat. At least I wasn’t screaming – or thinking of trees and moss.
I only had normal dreams again. A month later they told me they were processing my release.
Kiera hadn’t been able to put the book down. The dream chapter. She had forgotten it. She had a friend who still studied it, she was now a professor of He and She studies on Bepgidt 4. She realized she was crying, the tears dripping down her cheeks. Poor He, it had all been communication. In his dreams he had even said it – but never realized it himself. Instead, he just thought he was insane. How horrible it must have been.
And now she knew where her parents had found her name. They had told her it was a special name, but never told her where they had it from. She found it strange that she hadn’t noticed in the „He Chronicles“ the first time she had read them. Perhaps that dream had been removed from the version she had in school, she knew that at different times many things had been changed and kept from scrutiny. She didn’t agree but she knew it had been, and those who had done it had thought it was for the best.
Betaen 6. Part One. 18
Betaen 6. 18.
New York Harbour.
June 12 1862
I am absolutely certain Sir that the authorities and the newspapers at the time of the tragedy were mistaken. I can not however unequivocally prove it as no one from the original ships crew whom I have interviewed can remember if, as you have suggested in your correspondence with my superior, a life boat was missing.
There are however circumstances which would support your conclusion, not the least of which being that the young lady in question was of questionable character, being Russian after all. Here, we have learned manifold , of their traitorous demeanor.
My most succinct points, which I have, at your request also laid before the attorney general , are as follows :
if your grandfather, the Lieutenant General, was so assured of himself and his position and had planned so heinous an act : why would he have given the Captain a sealed brief, to be opened upon his death or returned to him when he walked ashore?
There was no blood in the cabin of the Princess, only in the card room and the Generals cabin and the corridor leading from it to the deck.
Other passengers whom I have sought out and questioned confirm the original New York Times article that the Princess A was often accompanied by a young Austrian officer, both at dinner and the balls onboard, and that she appeared very gay. This is the same officer who disappeared that fateful night.
Researches by our Berlin office have been inconclusive but I myself suspect that the „dashing young officer“ with whom the Princess A was seen in Berlin on many occasions was the same officer with whom she was so frivolous on the Lady Grey.
If your grandfather had been leaving the country to begin a new life with the Princess why were letters of introduction for her, in his name, found in his cabin?
And finally - if the sordid rumors were in fact true - why had his wife, on her deathbed at almost the same moment as your grandfather disappeared - explicitly left the estate to your grandfather and her jewels to the Princess A?
No kind sir - the sordidness and the wanton destruction of your grandfathers reputation are inconsistent with the situation I believe to have occurred.
My superior believes that your grandfather was using his diplomatic status to smuggle the Princess A to America - he still had diplomatic status as Military Attaché to the Court of the Sultan - as nobility was prohibited from leaving the continent by decree that was only struck down a few years ago. He and I believe that the Princ
Here the letter was torn
Betaen 6. Part One. 19
Betaen 6. 19.
Office of the Comle. Main City. Betaen 6. 2799
Kiera set down the book and made herself ready for the video meeting. She should be in the offices, controlling things, but she wasn’t strong enough yet. She couldn’t let them see any weakness. She remembered her professor of He and She Studies, the woman who had so interested her in their history. It seemed so long ago. She had been an old human. Interesting, intelligent, vivacious. Kiera could remember the evening in the student bar when she asked her why she hadn’t assimilated.
„I don’t want to know my future“ she had answered, looking at the rivulets of condensed water run down her wine glass. They were drinking earth wine although they were on Betaen 6. Drinking earth wine had been cool then, now it was just accepted that it was the best wine the universe had to offer.
„Why not?“ Kiera had asked „We don’t see everything. It‘s not like we live a pre-determined existence. Things can and do often change from what we glimpse.“
Her professor had nodded.
„I know“ she said „My life partner is a new human. She tells me that all the time. Tells me as long as we are together and touch and laugh that she knows my future anyway so why don’t I assimilate?“
Kiera waited while her professor drank more of her wine, sipped at her own.
„And..?“ she let the question hang in the air between them
Her professor shook her head and set down her wineglass, pointed at the rivulets of water.
„I want to be like these droplets – unsure. Unknown. Free“
„We assimilated are not free you think?“
„No.“ her professor had said quickly „I don’t think that. I would never be so arrogant.“ she sipped her wine again and twirled the glass absentmindedly between her fingers „I mean free to not know. Like He and She. They had no idea they were so important. No idea what they would bring about. It let them be truly themselves.“ she sipped again „At least that’s what I think, why I began to study them, why every year on the day of assimilation I still refuse.“
„Do you see the beauty and the peace that so many say they see when they are offered assimilation?“ Kiera had to know, had to ask – she had been born assimilated and had never felt anything else.
„Yes“ her professor looked saddened „And I too desire it. But I prefer to by trapped by time and not the dne“
Kiera drank a long gulp of her wine, as if she were drinking beer. It soothed the quick beating of her heart.
„I think I understand“ she said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand „Physicality was the only true reason the N‘Hai N‘Hai gave up their absolute freedom within time. It was so important to them they gave up the ability to freely move in time. For you times constraints are just as important.“ she blushed, certain she had gone so far, began to quickly stammer out an apology.
Her professor had grabbed her hand and looked deep into her eyes. Kiera stopped trying to speak
„Yes“ she had said.
Kiera tore herself away from the memory. She could, if she wished, touch it as if it were there and still alive, still be in that moment. That was one of the gifts of the assimilation.
The screen flickered to life and the voices began to impeach upon her. No. If an old human could be so deep and so understanding there was no part in Kiera’s universe for what her colleagues and many senators were clamoring for. She would use every chance she had, every ruse, to stop them.
Betaen 6. Part One. 20
Betaen 6. 20.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” Written 2459-2467
Her name is Fehm. I can write her name. My psychiatrist. Where I have a 487 tattooed on my wrist she has a C and a backwards E. My daughter had that tattoo. But I lost her at the same time I lost my wife. Somedays I liked to think that she is my daughter, come back to help me. But like Fehm said – do I really know if my daughter was named Fehm or am I creating it because it helps me cope? Or did she say her name isn‘t Fehm. I think she told me that isn‘t even her name. I don‘t know what she said. When I get emotional things get even more jumbled and make less sense.
She might be right, there is so much I can‘t recall, so much still lost. Like the name of my son. He died in the flu. Before my wife did. Fehm was there, I can remember it. At least I think I can. Maybe this Fehm can tell me when she’s read it.
The three of us that were still there were sitting on the beach. It was damp. I kept thinking of only one word. Kiura. Kiura. It is a creation of my mind, then, if there was a then, and now, but this word sticks to this memory. Kiura. A strange word. I wonder what it means? Why I would create it? You see I am sometimes lucid enough to even know I am insane. We had cremated him and gave his ashes to the sea. The flu. Both of us men, that had been our little joke, caught the flu in the second wave. I awoke with the survivors' scars beneath my eyes and on my belly, rivulets like water trails in the sand, just like those we were looking at in the sea water in front of us. He didn’t. He kept on sleeping. But we knew he was dead. It is strange that I can remember we cremated him but not his name. With my wife it’s the opposite – I can remember her name but not if she was cremated or buried? Why can‘t I remember that?
„Why cant you?“ asked Fehm.
The one who was alive of course. The dead Fehm doesn’t talk to me like the other ones do. Only the two women talk to me. All the time. Somedays they never stop. That’s the days I have the most problems – well, problems in my mind. Physical problems – I had them every day until I learned the stare. Then they stopped raping me. The first day they let me out of the padded cell they broke my nose and my arm. Didn’t stop them from raping me. I don’t even want to think about the first day. The one where I left the lander. Took me almost a year to learn the stare and then they left me alone. I wonder why Fehm never tries to do that to me? She’s attractive, she probably wants to get off this planet as much as any of us here. If she raped me and got pregnant – and had a boy – she would be set up for life. If he scarred of course. And there are only 5 men here in prison. It is not like she has a lot to choose from.
She asked again.
„Why?“
I shook my head. I didn’t want to know why. I probably should have told her that but I didn’t. Instead I did what I often did at our therapy sessions – I started to watch us from above. I would just leave my body and go and sit on the ledge that ran around her office. Then I would watch and listen. Try to learn. About me. What I am supposed to have done. Why I can’t remember.
Betaen 6. Part One. 21
Betaen 6. 21.
Apartment of the Comle. Main City. Betaen 6. 2799.
Kiera looked across the table; the white linen, the sparkling glasses, the fine tableware, the fruits, vegetables, but it was only him she saw. Eric looked so frail and so breakable. She wondered if She or Emira had ever thought that of He.
“I started to read the He Chronicles today” she said, twirling the wine glass between her fingers.
Eric looked at her for a moment.
“Kiera. What’s wrong?”
Damn. He would have to be so attentive.
“You know I can’t discuss everything with you.”
He nodded. Sipped his wine.
“It’s those idiots on earth, isn’t it?” he said, “You’re afraid the prime committee is going to force you to have to do something drastic.”
She nodded. There was no use lying to him. It was difficult enough simply not to tell him what was going on. She decided to stay on her original topic.
“Can you remember that He spent years on Mars unsure of whether his wife and She were the same person? If he had a family? He even thought his psychiatrist was his daughter. Remember the things He wrote? How poignant they are? “
Eric smiled. It was no use trying to discuss the problems on earth with her. She wouldn’t break her silence.
“Vaguely “ he said
The explosion shattered the windows and threw glass shards across their laps. The shock wave that followed blew the glasses and plates from the table, toppled their chairs. She shook her head to clear it. She still couldn’t hear. How could she have not seen this? This had to have been in her timeline yet she hadn’t seen it. No. She thought. No!
She struggled to her feet. She was bleeding from her scalp. Probably glass from the window. There were scores of people in the room now. A SP captain took her by the arm.
“Eric??” She screamed “Eric???” she fought against the hysteria.
The captain pulled her from the room. She could see Eric lying on the floor. He wasn’t moving and there was blood everywhere. She let herself be led, pulled, pushed, into their bedroom. The Captain took up guard at the door.
She heard the sirens, heard the cries of the guard between one another, the sudden rain that pelted through the shattered windows. Felt the smoke in her lungs but knew the rain would cleanse it.