life

This is the sequel to Judgement – Judgement: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798267858489: Books -I do like writing Sci-fi that is grounded in social context and relevant to life today. I’m an idealist, a dreamer and a critic.

Chapter 1 – The Separation

‘Ron Forsythe, I duly pronounce you ‘Protector of the Planet’.

‘What the fuck??? You gotta be kidding!!’

A ball of blue oceans girdled with cotton wool, clouds in spiralling masses, continents in darker tones, forests of green and deserts of brown; the polar regions stark caps of white reflecting light into the heavens. The thin atmosphere a fragile luminous band that glows in outline against an endless inky blackness speckled with flecks of white sparkling crystal. A delicate biosphere an oasis, suspended in the infinite reaches of a heartless eternity; the intricate chemistry of life sustained only by this narrow band of air and water.

On the dark side of the planet clusters of lights mark the cities, each with diverging tendrils of light, zig-zagging  here and there, indicating  the presence of transport corridors – the most obvious signs of intelligent life.

The intelligent beings that created these cities and thoroughfares, thinking themselves so big, swelled with self-importance, feel themselves to be immune to the vagaries of the cosmos. These tiny beings teem across the surface of the planet like a bacterial infection on the skin of a peach; yet they reach for the stars and sing to the moon. They believe all knowledge and mystery will be theirs for the asking. They tempt the fates and play dice with Armageddon. They are a danger to themselves and every organism that breathes the air of Earth. They know not what they do.

The reality was that life was fragile. It could be snuffed out in an instant. These beings were complacent. They just did not realise how fragile it was. Not just the thinness of that blue line but above it – the ominous presence of the giant H-craft Quorma.

Commander Chameakegra sat in her central position on the bridge of the H-craft Neff, her crest and scutes flowing with blue waves of pleasure. Everything was right with the universe. Ostensibly she was relaxed, surveying the planet Hydra looming through the viewport below them. The Judgement was over and she had been fully vindicated. Once again her assessment had been spot on and her unorthodox methods had proved effective. Much to her satisfaction and to Beheggakegri’s chagrin, and many others in the top echelons at UFOR (the United Federation of Races) the Judge had not only backed her assessment but also agreed with her solution.

On the surface of her coloured integument Commander Chameakegra’s disposition appeared serene. Inside was a different tale. All around her the crew were bustling, gathering evidence. Chameakegra was the eye of the silent hurricane around which everything rotated. Her job was not over yet. Ever since the judgement she had been preparing, working out how to carry out her instructions.

There were many other issues for her to address, battles to be fought. Chameakegra was aware that Beheggakegri and many other elements of UFOR would be more than happy for her ‘crazy’ idea to fail. In their opinion the exercise was complex and unnecessary. It was far simpler to eradicate a suspect race rather than take a risk that they might contaminate the Federation. Chameakegra took a very different view. For her the Hydran culture had immense positive attributes that could greatly enhance the Federation. The risk was worthwhile. She was immensely pleased that Judge Booghramakegra had agreed with her. Now was the test. She had to put her plan into operation and ensure it succeeded. A different vedog of mertles.

They had to invade, take over without bloodshed and set about overhauling the governance and infrastructure of the Hydrans – nothing too hard to handle but none-the-less requiring detailed planning. Then there was the tiny issue of what to do with the Hydrans selected for excision. For Beheggakegri that was simple; they could be removed and painlessly disposed of just as would be the case with any extermination.

Chameakegra felt differently. She was not content with winning the judgement and reprieve for the Hydrans, her thoughts were taking her further down the bojirt hole of wonder. Perhaps these malevolent Hydrans weren’t lost causes? Perhaps, like the rest of the population, they too could be rehabilitated? Weren’t the Federation meant to be compassionate? Shouldn’t they set a higher moral tone than simply going for what was safe and convenient? Beheggakegri did not appear to agree.

For the moment an uneasy truce existed. Chameakegra had been instructed to separate the Hydrans into three distinct categories – Saved, Reprogrammed and Exterminated – hard enough to know where to draw the boundaries. She had to go along with that for now but there was plenty plasma to flow through those tubes. There was plenty of time to mess with those boundaries and outcomes. Further experiments on Hydran psychology might well provide better solutions. Best to keep her laser shielded for now.

Right now Chameakegra alternated between brooding and fuming, taking care to keep her emotions under control so that her crest and scutes flowed with the orange hues of command. The last thing she wanted was for the crew to sense her anger. No hint of white was to be visible on those scales. Chameakegra was resolute. She was aware that Beheggakegri, and probably the majority of the UFOR committee, viewed this whole exercise as a great act of folly. Normally the business would be done and cleansed; the Hydrans would have been quickly and painlessly removed and the biosphere of Hydra left to heal and plug the gap left. In a million years or so evolution might well have produced a superior, more stable intelligence to take the place of these psychotic apes. Nature would restore. In the big scheme of things the Hydrans would be no great loss.

Chameakegra had come to see the established process as a cold, calculated bureaucratic exercise lacking in compassion and totally inflexible. In her mind there had to be a better way. If the Federation was to live up to the values it claimed to uphold there had to be a superior doctrine to this harsh judgement and terrible heartless euthanasia. But, for now, she was a lone voice.

Chameakegra prepared herself for the battles to come. For now she had to be content with the victory she had won. The comulators were programmed and staff assigned to the task they had been presented with. The novelty caused equal amounts of perplexity, amusement and interest. The assessment team had been set to go home; now they were reassigned. A number had been rotated but the core had opted to stay. That indicated a pleasing high morale.

The Hydrans were safe for a while. There was to be no absolute cleansing. The judgement was clear on that. They had a stay of execution and an opportunity to prove themselves worthy.

Normally, following a judgement, her role would be over. Not this time. She had created her own problems. Now she was tasked with solving them. Not that she was unhappy with that. It was what she had wanted. She relished the opportunity. This was something different. It presented numerous intricate assessments that required all the resources of the Neff.

The Hydran culture might, for the time being, be secure due to her efforts but there were repercussions. Elements of Hydran society were to be identified and extracted. Chameakegra had been tasked with dealing with this unusual situation. That felt appropriate, after all, this had been her idea and the Neff, set up as an observation/assessment laboratory was ideally suited for the task. That did not make the problems easy to solve. It was quite one thing to come up with a good sounding solution during the judgement. It was quite another to put it into practice.

She sat on the bridge of the Neff feeling contented. Chameakegra loved solving problems. Inside her head the neural pathways were glowing with electricity. She had turned the mighty resources of the Neff into a different, more detailed, processor of data. They were no longer assessing the worth of a whole culture, now they were doing something that had never been done before – judging the individuals, the whole population. Hydrans were being categorised and placed in various groups according to their nature. It required a more intimate knowledge of their lives.

Instead of one judgement there were to be eight billion judgements. Fortunately, under the guidance of skilled staff, coupled with the immense amount of data available from Hydra’s own media, the comulating skills of Neff’s automated intelligence was able to perform the task.