Yzarc Renleoz studied the alien in the dim light of the campfire on the African beach where they sat awaiting rescue.
“So they never found Alexander?” he asked, swatting a fly as it circled his head.
“That is a difficult question to answer. Alexander was a… complicated person.”
“You said he was your closest friend. Are you also a Vorian?”
The alien shuddered, his long black robe rippling around him. “Me? Oh no! I am no Vorian. They look more like your own kind.”
“How would I know with you hidden beneath that black sheet? Are you a Xenonite then?”
“No again. They are black, but much larger than I. Think huge beachball with appendages.”
“So what are you, then? How did you get a space ship?”
“I am a Sheepel. As for this particular ship, it is not mine.”
“So you stole it?” interrupted Sergeant Salmagundi, leaning in to better hear the conversation over the brisk wind that was picking up as the moon sunk into the nearby jungle.
“No – I am no thief. It was… abandoned. But earlier you asked about my home world. I will tell you some of its history, and how I came to the stars.”
And so the alien continued his tale, which we at Yzarc Industries have incorporated into this second of seven histories. For the events that drove a Sheek Wanderer to the stars were to forever alter the course of galactic history.
Our version of the tale begins on the planet Xenon, in the year 476 A.D...
* * * * * * * *
History of Xenon
- 4000 B.C.
While exploring the galaxy, the Xenonites chance upon the Vorians, discovering for the second time that they are not alone in the universe.
- 2000 B.C.
The Great War between the Vorians and the Xenonites is at its height.
- 1994 B.C.
The esteemed Ciri Alexander convinces the Vorian scientists to defect to the Xenonites. All 284 space-time ships are taken by the Xenonites, limiting the Vorians’ ability to expand their territory. Vorian attacks on inner-arm systems are ended.
- 180 A.D.
Alexander is unable to prevent the Vorians from conquering the remote world Lexon and disappears. The mad scientists also disappear from Xenon, taking the secrets of space-time travel with them. The Xenonites are left with only one space-time ship, later lost on a mission to search for Alexander.
- 476 A.D.
The planet Xenon barreled through space, leaving behind a frightened swath of cosmic dust. A dazzling ring encompassed it like thin arms trying to support a sagging middle. Its oceans were black and its continents were black, but in defiance of natural selection, the Xenonites themselves were neon green, obese and globular, much like an oversized beach ball with thick, clumsy limbs. Their range of motion was limited, and everything they did was either done by machine, or took a very long time.
Yet it was these beings who in 476 A.D. controlled a huge portion of the Milky Way Galaxy. They generally did not resort to war, as past experience had proven that other, more dexterous aliens had great advantage against them. Instead, their time was spent recruiting alien spies, Ciri, from countless planets, and sending them out to monitor the galaxy and ensure that it was safe from every perceived threat, both internal and external–and of these, there were many.
One of these Ciri had entered the office of Arro Dusk, Assistant to the Supreme Coordinator of the United Republic of Xenon. He carried a stack of papers heaped past his head.
“Reports are in. Where shall I set them?”
“On the desk, please.” Arro jumped from his chair to help transfer the stack to a narrow space between two similar mountains, revealing the thin Garbozan courier. “Ah, Mitlan, how are you?”
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“Can't complain. You?”
“New high score on Xenitaire a moment ago. You just missed it.”
“Ah, Xenitaire. So revered, it's on every computer in Xenon.”
“Very funny. So what have you brought today?”
“The usual. Let's see, a traffic report, it's Tuesday so there'll be the Council Meeting notes, I think the Ciri's Guild has a few petitions, a couple signatures are needed, and oh yes, it's the second Tuesday, so the Report on the Galaxy is in… should be fourth from the bottom, underneath the weekly forecast. There was quite a bit more, but I took the liberty of some trimming.”
“Still too much, though. He's not pleasant to be around if you give him too much to read. Any idea what's important this week?”
“My brain already took a beating narrowing it down to this. I can't imagine what they do at the lower levels.”
Arro haphazardly divided the stack into two, ensuring that both the Report on the Galaxy and the weather forecast remained in the smaller pile. He scooped it up and followed Mitlan out the door. “I'll see you next week.”
“Hopefully I'll be retired by then.”
“You say that every week. When will you actually do it?”
“Someday, someday. Hundreds of years I spent as a Ciri, and another fifty here on Xenon. But I shall never forget the blue mountains rising above my parents' home on Garboza.” Mitlan snapped to attention, as if from a dream. “But you are a Xenonite, you cannot understand.”
“I do, more than you realize.”
Mitlan said nothing; only nodded and hurried down the hall.
Arro sighed, and turned the opposite direction along a narrow corridor. A minute's walk brought him to a large metal door blocked by a muscular Xenonite guard. “This room is empty. Move on!”
“The papers are in.” Arro thumped the stack.
“Hmmpf. So I see.” The guard unlocked the doors and ushered Arro into an immense chamber. The vast room was so dimly lit that from the doorway, Arro couldn’t see the far walls. In the center of the room was a single desk, surprisingly bare despite the reams of paper Arro carried in each week. He wondered where it all went. Behind the desk sat the Supreme Coordinator.
“Well?”
“Here are the reports, Sir. I just received them.”
“Ah… most excellent. I hope these contain some good news. The entire Zull-Hew Sector is under Vorian control. This Lexon thing has become a disaster.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Arro stopped nervously. “Actually, I was wondering why we sent only one Ciri to spy on the dictator. Wasn’t it apparent that Alexander wouldn’t be able to do the job on his own?”
“It was a long shot, but our best one.” The Supreme Coordinator frowned. “We had only two space-time ships and one Vorian Ciri. There is little else we could have done to stop a war so far away.”
“I am foolish to ask such questions. Here are the reports for the week. If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”
“I will keep that in mind.” His oppressive voice ushered Arro out of the chamber and the guard secured the doors once more.
The Supreme Coordinator started with the weekly Council Report. After a brief look over the major headings, he tossed it to the side of his desk.
I hope the Report on the Galaxy is more exciting, he thought as he pulled a large document from the pile. Aah. Much better.
The Report on the Galaxy was an extensive document that was constantly updated. It contained reports, sub-reports, evaluations of sub-reports, disclaimers as to the validity of the author’s evaluation of the sub-reports concerning his pet cat, and charts, lists, tables, and graphs. Yes, this document, the one document that summarized an entire galaxy of wonderful, strange, and exotic worlds, was what the Coordinator loved reading most. He flipped immediately to the part he always read first… the one section that could either brighten his day or terrify all Xenon.
Synopsis of Advanced Worlds in the Milky Way Galaxy
Xenon - No change. Remains at 0.
M-13 - Up Five. Expecting further increase due to approaching Sphere. See Section 3F.
Lexon - No Change, remains at 72. Situation terrible.
Casura - Down Three, recommend reward and promotion for Shad.
Earth - Up One. Ciri have been sent to investigate.
The Great Sphere - We rate it at about 17 million and rising. Has left the Diros Sector and continues to skirt the lower arm. Slowing as it approaches target.
All Other Planets - No appreciable change. Maintaining normal activity.
Thoughts raced through his bulky head as he called Arro back on his com-link. This one table, grand summary of his hopes and fears, was more than just swampaper and ink. It was enemies; planets; aliens. All in all, the galaxy was fairly stable. He’d given up on Lexon almost two-hundred Earth years ago (not very much time at all to a Xenonite). The plan was to simply wait until the Sphere left and the Dictator passed away. Now, however, he found it all the more important that the situation not be allowed to happen again. The Sphere was moving towards M-13. Something had to be done.
“I checked the records. Lexon was showing the same escalating figures as M-13 before it got away from us,” said Arro, stepping back into the dim patch of light surrounding the Supreme Coordinator’s barren desk.
“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s planets that get away from us. If M-13 goes haywire, its neighbors will fall like dominos, one by one until war is at Xenon’s doorstep.”
“We have a Ciri base in the system, but they are losing control of the planet.”
“Shall we resort to Stage Six, then?”
“A full-blown attack? Will the Council allow that, with our space-time ships gone and our fleet stretched to its limit? As long as Xenon is safe, the Council cares little about what happens in the rest of the galaxy.”
“Am I not the Supreme Coordinator? How much you have to learn before you can replace me! But you are correct, they will gripe if we ask for more ships. Here. Take this.” He handed Arro a thick yellow envelope.
“What is this?” Arro eyed the envelope with suspicion.
“The plan for a Stage Me attack. I am sure the Council will find it most agreeable. I worked on it for two months after Lexon flew off the charts, in case we ever faced a similar situation. Bring it to the Council immediately. Give them somethin’ important to do for once. Continental Xa, indeed...”
“Er, what?”
“Don’t worry about it.” The Supreme Coordinator leaned back in his chair and flipped to Section 3F of the report. “This is one planet that isn’t going to be free much longer. Not after I get through with it.”
