The Sixteen Galaxies Read online

  The Sixteen Galaxies – Volume 1

  The Sixteen Galaxies

  William Drayman

  Text copyright© 2015 William Drayman

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (Though Truly would point out that she is neither – obviously), or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For my two girls – Never be ashamed of your imagination.

  Acknowledgements

  To my wife and children, who continue to endure my struggle to become that which I hope to one day be.

  My sincere gratitude to Mark Lapworth, who proved to be of great assistance in the proof-reading of this novel. I am forever in your debt, Mark. Your insight and knowledge took this book to a higher level.

  My gratitude also to those who gave me daily support, encouragement and advice; you know who you are.

  My sincere gratitude to all who read this, may you gain enjoyment from the time spent doing so.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  1

  Federal Agent Ronald Baxter kept his distance from the man in the gaudy yellow coat. He heard Harold Parkhurst, his field supervisor, in his earpiece; “Baxter, you’re on him for one more turn, then Ashley takes over. Baxter, you coat-change and prepare for a third swap.”

  Baxter tapped his earpiece by way of acknowledgement. He cursed as the man in the yellow coat turned down an alley. He put his hand to his ear. “Left turn into alley. Follow?”

  “Affirmative,” Parkhurst replied. “Alley exits to W Street, call the next turn. Ashley reposition to 13th Street and wait for the call. Bennet, cover 14th Street.”

  Baxter waited at the corner to give his target enough time to get ahead. Turn the corner too early and the tail was blown. He took a peek round the corner. The target was gone. He cursed and jogged down the alley, hand to his earpiece. “Target contact lost, repeat, target contact lost.”

  “Baxter, hold!” Parkhurst shouted; “I called the wrong alley. That one’s a blind end into the rear of the YMCA!”

  Baxter stopped dead. He realized he’d been played when the target stepped out from behind a dumpster to Baxter’s left, a 9mm Sig Sauer pointed at the agent’s head. The target smiled. “Sorry, Mr Secret Agent Man, but I prefer my privacy.”

  Parkhurst’s voice was ringing in Baxter’s ear, urging the other agents to abandon their posts and get to the alley ASAP. The man in the yellow jacket shrugged. “No offence, man, all part of the game. You lose.”

  Baxter heard the shot, but felt nothing. He was still in the alley, and still alive. However, he was now right behind the gunman. The latter stood frozen in bewilderment, his gun pointed at thin air. Baxter felt temporarily disoriented by his new-found ability to avoid a bullet to the head, but his training kicked straight in. He pulled his sidearm out and pressed it against the back of the target’s head. “Gun on the ground, pal; nice and easy.”

  The man complied, his hands shaking. “How the…how the hell did you do that?” he stammered.

  Baxter saw Bennet and Ashley pound round the corner into the alley, guns drawn. “Mister,” he whispered, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  *****

  Mandy Somers shivered in the cold autumn wind that blew across the forecourt. Stupid Weather Channel, wrong again, she thought. Jack Short snapped the clapper-board shut and she focused. “This is Mandy Somers, live outside the United Nations building in New York, where delegates from around the world have gathered for the International Forum on Climate Change and Sustainability. Discussions will start in earnest today, with a presentation from Hiram Sertan, who arrived from California this morning. The man they call ‘The World’s Conscience’ has made it plain he will not back down from his stance that complete change is urgently needed to address the ever-worsening climate crisis. Becky Carver is inside the General Assembly Hall with more.”

  From behind the cameraman, Jack Short gave Mandy Somers the all clear signal and she relaxed. “Nice one Mandy,” he said. “Becky has it until commercial break, so we’re done here. We can get back to the OB van for a coffee.”

  Mandy just nodded by way of reply. She was dead on her feet. Three days left and then holidays for two weeks. She smiled to herself. Just me, the beach and-

  She jumped as she heard a loud snap! which came from right behind her. Jack dropped his clipboard and stared ashen faced past Mandy’s shoulder. Mandy spun on her heel and found herself face to face with a man not six inches away.

  The man smiled at her. “Please don’t be alarmed, Ms Somers.” He spoke softly, in sharp contrast to the shock he’d just given her.

  Mandy heard Jack urge the camera crew back into action behind her. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you lose some footage, a guy just appeared out of nowhere, for cryin’ out loud. He’s not likely to be an insurance salesman, is he?”

  The stranger held his silence. The matte black material of his one-piece suit emitted an odd radiance, visible in Mandy’s peripheral vision. It wasn’t exactly a halo, but it was close enough to give her goose bumps. Two UN security guards ran over from their post nearby; they looked at each other uncertainly, before one of them had the presence of mind to radio the details to an incredulous supervisor.

  Mandy’s mind raced; she tried to calm herself enough to think of what to say. What are you supposed to say to a weirdly dressed guy who materializes out of thin air right behind you?

  She saw a captain of the UN guard approach at a trot from across the concourse, and she knew her time was nearly up. She heard Jack hiss from behind her, “Mandy, you’re on. Say something for Pete’s sake!”

  “Umm…how can I help you?” Mandy winced inwardly at her choice of words. Behind her, Jack muttered, “Wow, really?”

  “My name is Nuthros,” the man said. “I am here to speak with Hiram Sertan.”

  “Hiram Sertan is inside the General Assembly Hall,” Mandy replied. “He-”

  The UN guard captain arrived and put himself squarely in front of Mandy, his broad back blocking her view. He cut her off with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Who are you,” he said to the man called Nuthros, “And where are you from, sir?” Mandy saw the captain’s other hand clear the flap on the holster of his sidearm.

  Nuthros ignored the captain and stepped to one side. He continued to calmly address Mandy; “I shall need your help soon enough, Ms Somers.” He nodded his thanks and promptly disappeared, which left the flummoxed captain doing a fine imitation of a goldfish for the camera.

  *****

  Inside the UN General Assembly Hall, Hiram Sertan skimmed through the notes for his presentation. He felt old and tired. Just like today’s talks will be, he thought with a cynical smile. Around Hiram the nations’ delegates exchanged idle banter, but not one of them spoke to him. Most wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Eight long years of investigation, analysis and campaigning had earned him nothing but animosity from most of the global political community.

  He knew his role as ‘Special Rapporteur’ to the United Nations Environment Program, created for him 5 years ago, and more recently as a ‘Special Representative of the Secretary General’, were efforts to keep him occupied and shut him up. His consistent disregard for the niceties of protocol and bull-headed
determination to press on with his campaign had won him no friends at all among the elite. While he was the darling of environmental movements the world over, he was a despised pariah here.

  He flicked absently through the pages of notes. It really felt like he was wasting his time. For every piece of evidence he produced, his opponents would produce contradictory ‘evidence’. Global temperature trends? They had ground-station measurements that contradicted the satellite data. Weather extremes? Records don’t go back far enough. They could be part of a long cycle – the climate had ALWAYS changed, hadn’t it? For every climate scientist prepared to back him up there were two ready with a counter-argument. Mind you, it was usually the same two – and rarely were they speaking within their own area of expertise. Of course, that didn’t matter to the media. They knew which side their bread was buttered.

  He sat back with a heavy sigh. For every one-sentence ‘common sense’ denial, there was a thousand pages of absolute proof. However, the policy of equal air play for both sides meant that hardly anyone saw the imbalance. His family’s considerable fortune was almost exhausted on the campaign, and the future looked dismal. The comprehensive data he and his organisation had gathered from the latest surveys would have changed things, that’s for sure. From Glaciology to Etymology, the reports all told the same tale; humanity was nearly out of time.

  But, the NSA had raided his office and confiscated all the paperwork and computer files, claiming it was a matter of ‘National Security’. He put his notes down and rubbed his forehead. A tattered photo caught his eye, as it often did. The happy smile of the little girl who turned his world upside down. Five year old Ahere, from Manuapa Island in the Pacific. She would be thirteen now.

  Manuapa had been in the headlines then, as scientists predicted the island’s demise. It would be one of the first islands to go under completely, they said. He could recall the scene with perfect clarity; her little hand in his as she showed him the dilapidated playground, which was covered in four inches of water. “Mama won’t let me play here, now.” Wide eyes met his. “Mama says you will fix the water, and make it go back to the sea.”

  Her complete trust had nearly reduced Hiram to tears. He decided to start his campaign there and then. He smiled at the little girl in the photo. Ahere still lived in Manuapa. It hadn’t gone under. The naysayers crowed over this fact. The truth was that coral atolls rose with the sea level. Sand washed over them during every storm, and the coral polyps the islands were founded on grew, too. For Ahere, though, Hiram and the UN had fixed the water. The situation had come to symbolize Hiram’s struggle. Fixed the water, sure, he thought with a grimace. This bunch couldn’t fix a decent sandwich. He rubbed a hand over his brow. I’m too old for this crap.

  Snap!

  Hiram looked toward the speaker’s dais in alarm. A man in a matte black outfit stood there, his face devoid of any expression. “My name is Nuthros, and I am here to offer the people of planet Earth our assistance. To facilitate this process, I have chosen a representative of the human race that I will converse with.” Nuthros pointed to Hiram. “You are Hiram Sertan, of the United States of America. You are the most suitable person for me to speak to.”

  “I am Hiram Sertan, yes.” Hiram replied. “As to me being the best one to talk to, you seem to know more about that than I do, sir.”

  Nuthros smiled. “Mr Sertan, we wish to help humanity progress safely past what is soon to become its point of no return, leading to the inevitable extinction of the human race, by its own hand.”

  Hiram’s eyes widened at the stranger’s words. Nuthros waited politely for Hiram to recover his composure. After a diplomatic career spanning thirty years, it didn’t take long. “May I ask, Nuthros, where you are from, and what your interest in our affairs might be that you should offer this help?”

  “My dear Mr Sertan,” Nuthros replied with a kindly smile, “I am a representative of the Council of Universal Harmony. The council is a research body for the Sixteen Galaxies Society of Worlds. We have reached a determination to offer you the technology and knowledge you desperately need to avoid certain extinction. As to our interest in your affairs? Suffice it to say that if we were to simply watch from a distance as you destroy this planet, we would have to consider ourselves complicit in your demise.”

  Hiram took a moment to digest that. It occurred to him that the general assembly was eerily quiet, something he had never experienced before. He looked around and saw that every member of the assembly sat and stared, expressionless, at whatever they were looking at when Nuthros arrived.

  Nuthros caught Hiram’s look. “I have immobilized your compatriots for now, Mr Sertan. Their contributions would be a meaningless hindrance at this juncture. I am sorry I had to do that, but I can assure you that they are in no danger or discomfort at all.”

  Good grief, he really means it, Hiram thought. I wouldn’t be sorry if I could shut the argumentative sons of bitches up like that. He nodded at Nuthros. “I understand. You speak of our inevitable doom with some sense of urgency, sir. Am I given to understand our time is relatively short?”

  “Yes, you are correct.” Nuthros replied. He made his way from the podium to stand within a couple of paces of Hiram.

  “How long do you think we have?” Hiram asked.

  “I’m afraid, Mr Sertan, you must change your ways completely within two years. After that time, the damage to this planet will be irreversible.”

  Hiram nodded. He knew that just such a catastrophe was more than plausible. The latest figures the NSA had taken off him indicated almost exactly that time frame. He guessed it was no coincidence that Nuthros chose to appear here and now. The forum was convened to discuss environmental sustainability, after all. And that is all they would end up doing, he thought. Discuss, argue, justify, deflect, and pontificate. In the end, they’d walk away with some pointless resolution; some way of pacifying the masses while they tried to forestall the inevitable, yet again.

  “I would like to take you to my ship, Mr Sertan,” Nuthros said. “These people need to be unbound, and we have much to discuss. I can assure you the travel process will not discomfort you at all.”

  Hiram thought for a minute. “Nuthros, you must understand my position here. I don’t know you from Adam. You appeared out of nowhere. You have put my colleagues into some kind of trance, and told me we have just two years to put in place everything you say, or humanity is doomed to extinction. Can you please explain why I should believe you?”

  Nuthros gave a nod. “Of course, Mr Sertan. You should believe me because I appeared out of nowhere, and I have put the entire assembly into a bonded condition. No human is capable of that, are they? In addition, you know from the research and modelling which was confiscated by your own security services, that the time-frame to reach the point of no return I have given you is accurate.”

  “I guess, when you put it like that...” Hiram conceded with a wry smile. “However, I still have no way of knowing whether your intentions toward us are sincere and honourable, or not.”

  Nuthros inclined his head in assent. “That is true, of course. However, it should be obvious I possess technology and capability far in advance of your own. I can assure you, were our plans hostile to humanity, we would not require your assistance to prosecute them. I believe I will earn your trust with the passage of time.”

  “Well,” Hiram responded, “I can’t argue with that. Why me, though? Of all humanity, why pick a worn out old man who doesn’t even have the good sense to know when he’s beaten?”

  “Mr Sertan, you were selected to represent your planet because you have the qualities we require to deal with a human effectively. The foremost of those qualities is honesty. You carry out your duties with both diligence and honour, and exhibit integrity and authenticity to a far greater degree than the rest of the candidates here. You have selflessly pursued a course which you feel is right, and you have expended yourself financially to do it. I evaluated every person here today, and you are
by far the most suitable.” Nuthros moved closer to Hiram. His manner was something Hiram had rarely encountered, and almost never amongst this august body of human representatives. To Hiram, he looked completely sincere. There was no hint of pride or arrogance in the alien’s conduct.

  Nuthros held out his hands. “I don’t have time to convince you, Mr Sertan. Then again, I can sense that you believe me anyway. I need you to make a decision, and make it now, please.”

  Hiram sighed. I really am too old for this crap, he thought. “Very well, I will go.”

  The two men instantly disappeared from the assembly hall. When the delegates recovered their senses, the general assembly was a sea of confused and befuddled faces. They soon realized Hiram and the stranger were gone. Within minutes, the buzz of confused query had escalated to complete bedlam.

  Hiram Sertan felt no discomfort during the transit, just as Nuthros promised. One moment he was in the general assembly hall, and the next he was standing in a large room, with a breath-taking view of the Earth in front of him. The process was seamless, and he marvelled at it.

  Nuthros stood beside him. “It is a wonder, is it not?” Nuthros asked.

  “Absolutely incredible.” Hiram said. He then realised Nuthros was not referring to their instantaneous journey, but to the planet before them. Or was that below them? Or maybe above? Being in space was going to require a re-appraisal of many of Hiram’s perspectives. He gazed at the beautiful blue sphere, through what was obviously a window of some kind. He could detect no surface between him and the vacuum of space. He wondered briefly if this was a trick; all smoke and mirrors in some elaborate plot to fool him. He glanced at the scene around him. The technology required to produce an illusion of this magnitude was almost as unimaginable as the reality.

  “Your people have but a small window of opportunity to turn things around, Mr Sertan,” Nuthros said. “I must warn you, though, that drastic changes are needed. They will come at great cost to your cultures. The chances of humanity actually implementing our guidelines are astronomically small. However, we have concluded that we must try to afford you this opportunity. Please allow me to offer you some hospitality, and then we must get down to business.”