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The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Doubts and challenges beset the aliens.

Chapter 22 – Musings

Grrndakegra had been told that Chameakegra was a dangerous eccentric who had a few synapses short of a network. Beheggakegri had portrayed her as a maverick fool who had no regard for the process that had kept the Federation safe for hundreds of years. He had depicted the Hydrans as worthless space excrement that required disposing of.

Now Grrndakegra wasn’t quite so sure. She’d been brought in to do a job on both Chameakegra and the Hydrans. Beheggakegri knew she was a stickler for the rules and would do his bidding.

His evening with Chameakegra had left her feeling confused. They were never going to be friends. That was certain. They hadn’t bonded. She found Chameakegra strange. As Beheggakegri had suggested; she was an eccentric. She was a complete maverick too. That was also certain. She hadn’t followed the process, but did that mean she did not believe in the process or was looking to undermine the Federation, as Beheggakegri had indicated? She hadn’t picked up a scent of that. Chameakegra certainly had a different way of working, that was for sure – but she seemed to want the same outcome – a thorough assessment. She couldn’t make her out: she just seemed to have fallen under the spell of Hydran culture which was downright peculiar. But had she learnt anything from the evening that she could use against her? That was questionable.

As for the Hydrans; Beheggakegri had been adamant that they were crying out to be exterminated and Grrndakegra had completely agreed. What she’d seen of them completely backed up Beheggakegri’s assessment. They were everything he’d called them – violent greedy space rats.

That evening of being exposed to the creative side of Hydrans had affected her. Grrndakegra knew that she did not have a single scute that was sensitive to aesthetic awareness. She could not appreciate a masterpiece of a work of art if it came to life and bit her on the tail. But that did not mean that she couldn’t see that others might find certain creations life-affirming. She wasn’t as much of a Philistine to believe that, just because she could not appreciate it, all art had no value. She could at least appreciate that Hydrans did have a rich culture.

Chameakegra had shared the entire gamut of Hydran culture with her and she’d pretty well hated every moment of it – apart from a few things. That whiskey had tasted vile but she’d acquired a little bit of a taste for it. She liked the way it burnt her palate and sent her taste buds crazy. She’d even gone and commandeered a few different bottles of it. There were a lot of subtle nuances of flavour in amongst that first fiery explosion. Certain of the rhythmic noises that Hydrans called music were interesting. She’d found her body jerking around to it. Not that she’d procure any of it. As for the rest; well, she could not find anything good to say – daubings of colour on canvas, anybody could do that – she could ask Quorma to produce artworks that were more pleasing than anything she’d seen the Hydrans come up with. Still – they had a child-like quality that was vaguely interesting. Hydrans did have another side to them. She could see that the spoken word and stories were interesting for some but she found them boring, she couldn’t see the point of any of the sport and while it was interesting to see the way the Hydrans performed complex steps and contorted their bodies into unnatural shapes the dancing just seemed bizarre – either stylised coitus, weird rhythmic moves or peculiar poses. She could not see any purpose for it. Chameakegra had failed to sell it to her even if it had tweaked her interest the tiniest bit.

That wasn’t to suggest that there wasn’t any value to it. She might have hated it but others might have got a lot from it. What had impressed her was that Chameakegra had obviously totally immersed herself in it. Her appreciation of all the Hydran creative arts was genuine. This was no act or subterfuge. Chameakegra one hundred percent believed that this creativity was worthy and worth preserving. Of that there was no doubt.

What Grrndakegra had to decide was whether the creative side of Hydran nature made up for the violence and greed and whether they could ever be acceptable to the Federation. Clearly it didn’t.

But things did not stop there. If it had been as simple as that the judgement would have been clear. The Hydrans would undoubtedly no longer be here. Chameakegra had believed that the Hydrans were redeemable. She had come up with a plan and Judge Booghramakegra had decided, going against normal procedure, to try the experiment out.

That’s where they were.

Beheggakegri had a private vendetta going with Chameakegra, despised the Hydrans, and wanted her to sabotage the operation. That’s what she’d been brought in to do. Beheggakegri was using her to settle his own private vendettas.

Grrndakegra did not like being used. She was beginning to feel conflicted.

‘Was that wise?’

Ron winced and gave Chameakegra a grim look. ‘I don’t know. Liz’s idea. I thought it was worth a risk. I was hoping to at least try to make Billy think.’

‘Is he capable of rational thought?’

Ron chuckled ironically. ‘Yes,’ he looked Chameakegra in the eye. ‘He’s not as stupid as he seems. None of them are. They have their own rational way of looking at things; it’s different to our perspective, that’s all. Billy and his friends are very patriotic and more than a little xenophobic, even racist. Even if they won’t admit it they believe that British people are intrinsically superior to any other breed and that Britain and its culture is worth fighting for. They can’t help that it’s inherent in their upbringing and education. They’ve been taught that everything we’ve done and stand for is better than anything anybody else has done. They have immense pride in Britain.’

‘But surely they can see that this is just shallow tribalism?’ Chameakegra responded, not able to grasp how anybody could think that way. ‘That’s like me saying that Giforians are inherently better than Drefs, Achecs, Marlans or Xercs. That doesn’t make sense. It’s obvious that different races have certain abilities that may be better suited for some tasks but are inferior in other ways. We Giforians understand that all Giforian history is not covered in glory. Our ancestors did not always follow a morally exemplary way of life. We accept that.’

Ron chuckled. ‘That’s not how Billy and his mates think. They’ve been brought up to believe everything British is better. They think the British Empire was the greatest thing that ever happened to the world and that our little island has always been better than any other place on the planet. That makes them think that it is worth fighting for. They want the present to be like some idealised version of the past. The irony is that the past was an absolute nightmare for most people. But they don’t see that. They think they can take you on.’

‘But can’t they see what they are up against? Surely they can see the superiority of our technology. We took over the whole planet and nullified the armoury of every single nation. We can eradicate the whole Hydran race in an instant if we wanted to. There is nothing you can do if we decide to act.’ Chameakegra was mystified.

Ron chuckled again. ‘You might have studied us but that doesn’t mean that you understand us. Billy runs on idealism, not rationality. Humans have an inbuilt desire to fight for what they believe in, even if that is against all the odds, even if that leads to their inevitable demise. It’s called martyrdom and we’ve got a long tradition of self-sacrifice. It’s considered highly honourable.’

‘That’s senseless.’

‘But that has been a factor in human behaviour throughout history. Some of us have always been prepared to face certain death for the sake of a principle or belief.’

Chameakegra struggled with understanding this bizarre concept. ‘So explaining to Billy Smythe that Hydrans are being assessed and if they show signs of violent behaviour they might be eradicated might prove a useless exercise?’

‘Probably,’ Ron conceded, ‘even if he believed me, which I don’t think he did. But there is always the outside chance that something might stick. He might be prepared to give us a little more time. Besides, I could see that Charlene was more pragmatic. Maybe the women might bring some sense to the argument?’

Chameakegra looked confused. The more she learnt about Hydrans the less she understood.

Thursday nights were back to normal now that all restrictions had been lifted. The Ashley Arms bustling with its usual bustling trade. It appeared that everybody wanted to escape the claustrophobia and fear of the alien occupation. Alcohol flowed liberally. Secure in their snug, away from the din, the gang had ensconced themselves safe within their old familiarity.

‘Are you sure it was the Ron Forsythe?’ Denby asked disparagingly. He didn’t believe a word Billy and Charly were feeding him. They were having a laugh.

‘Of course I’m bloody sure,’ Billy replied indignantly. He was getting fed up with Denby’s attitude.

‘It was,’ Charly added. ‘I can vouch for that.’

Everybody still looked a little sceptical, though they gave Charly’s opinion a little more credibility than they did Billy’s. The idea of Ron Forsythe, steward of the planet, dropping in on Billy Smythe, arch big-mouth, seemed a little far-fetched.

‘Anyway,’ Billy pressed on, looking a little hurt and annoyed, ‘he’s only telling me to lay off and give the fucking lizards a chance.’

‘He says that the lizards are assessing us to see if we’re worth saving. If we don’t make the grade they’re going to bump us off,’ Charly informed them.

‘Why’s he siding with them?’ Denby remarked angrily, grudgingly accepting that it might be true that he visited them in person.

‘He says that we should give them a chance to improve things so that we can see that they mean what they say,’ Charly added. ‘He says that we should trust them.’

‘Trust them my arse,’ Denby replied, taking a big gulp of his beer. ‘I’d rather trust a grizzly bear.’

‘Well they’ve done everything they said they were going to do,’ Debbie stated, a little huffily. ‘They’ve introduced cheap electricity and food prices have dived.’

‘If you want to eat that alien muck,’ Denby snarled, rounding on her.

‘There’s nothing wrong with the food they’ve brought in,’ Debbie protested. ‘Me and John like it and it’s supposed to be real healthy.’

‘I like it,’ Foxy chortled. ‘Tastes real good.’

Denby turned and glowered at him as if he was a right old traitor,

‘Perhaps they will make things better?’ Kathy suggested. ‘There hasn’t been a shot fired since they arrived. All them wars. They’ve put a stop to all that.’

‘Taken away our means of fighting back, more like,’ Denby added cynically. ‘Once we’re helpless they’ll change their tune.’

‘Fat lot of good our armies made,’ Debbie pointed out. ‘They took over without any bloody effort. Not a shot fired.’

‘Debbie’s got a point,’ Kathy observed. ‘Even if we had control of all of our armies and airforce and stuff they’d be useless against those bloody lizards. It’d be like slings and arrows against tanks. They brushed us aside as if we didn’t exist.’

‘Resistance is futile,’ Foxy added, doing his best Dalek impression.

‘So what do you think we should do?’ Billy asked, not sounding anywhere near as sure as he had at the beginning.’

‘I think that if we annoy them they’ll probably wipe us out,’ John remarked miserably.

Billy looked nonplussed.