Master Defiance

“We have confirmed the failure of our first attempt at colonisation on the planet. Expect to encounter an advanced, competitive, probably hostile alien civilisation when you get here. The ecosystem of this planet is toxic to us right now, and will no doubt be far worse after generations of further alien intervention and contamination. Annihilation of the entire planet is therefore recommended, if you have the technology.”

The mother-ship Commander read the message again just before the Council meeting was set to begin. The rather shocking coded transmission had been received just two of their home planet days ago. The Commander was aware of instances where an entire threatening species had been wiped out, but never a whole planet! What had driven a far-distant Commander to issue such a seemingly emotional outburst? Frustration for an exploration failure, or genuine fear of a discovery that it viewed as a threat to their species?

Tracing back towards the likely source of the electromagnetic, digital transmission suggested it probably originated a hundred of their years ago, from a more primitive mother-ship on a far different trajectory than their own. The brief textual message had been followed by a highly compressed stream of binary data. These data included all of the other mother-ship’s exploration scouting trip logs.

Strangely, the dataset had also included a full genome description of an alien hominid species. Was that it? Was that what had frightened that now-ancient crew of Masters? They had apparently extracted genetic matter from a sample of hair from a single, willing, living specimen. How did that fit into this? They also said they obtained samples for analysis from a single corpse. The corpse had been buried in a grave within a colony of another type of hominids, ones that had been genetically modified to be better slaves by the first wave of Masters to visit that planet. The grave had been marked with the meaningless symbols ‘H A R V E Y’. How did that fit in?

The Commander was getting nowhere with this line of thought, and it was frustrated. It was now looking forward to the Council meeting.

Including the Commander, there were seven members of the mother-ship Council. This was no accident. Seven was a very important number within their culture, even though they used Base Ten as their numbering system. A lot of their social practices worked around groupings of seven. Master historians had linked this phenomenon to the physical fact that there were seven planets in their home stellar system.

Their home or mother stellar system had two outer gas giants and five inner rocky planets. When this mother-ship’s original crew had left on its long, multi-stop, multi-generational exploration journey through space, all of the rocky planets in their home system had been colonised to a sustainable extent, as well as four large moons around the two gas giants.

The pressing need for more living space had driven them to explore other star systems, and set up colonies wherever possible. The colonies had to be self-sufficient, as interstellar communication was restricted to light speed, and interstellar travel to about one-twentieth of light speed. But the hope was that successful colonies would become new mother planets, and bases for further expansion within the galaxy.

The Commander suddenly noted the Council members were now entering the darkened, circular meeting room. The room was located in the command section near the nose of their massive, cylindrical, spinning vessel. The spin induced centripetal acceleration and artificial gravity on the inside wall of the vessel, where the Masters spent most of their time.

When they met for their meetings, Council members always stood at rigid attention around a circular table in the centre of their private room. An overhead white light was suspended about half a metre above eye level over the exact centre of the table. The single, low-intensity light illuminated their faces, but nothing else. The Councillors all wore identical, shiny black and form-fitting coveralls, the same uniform as the crew wore, except without the crew’s shoulder insignia that indicated role and rank. There was nothing other than the subcutaneous code nodule inserted at birth in every Master to distinguish a Councillor from a crew member. All Councillors had regular duties as crew members, except for the Commander, who was, well, the full-time Commander.

For their meetings, the Commander stood on a dais so its head was slightly higher up than all of the others. It would have been virtually impossible for an outside observer to tell them apart, and the fixed arrangement by seniority around the table helped to ensure there would never be any doubt amongst themselves.

They were essentially clones, bearded hermaphrodite hominids of about a metre and a half in height. The only fashion variation allowed in their culture was the way they trimmed their beards; however, no one seemed to want to deviate too far from the trend of the time.

Even though they could live for over a hundred of their home planet years, Masters did not appear to age, at least superficially. The only perceptible differences between any of them, old and young, were behavioural. These slight differences stemmed from the different paradigms they had established as they developed into individual adults within the communal, highly structured confines of their mother-ship.

The Commander slowly scanned with its two dark eyes around the table. It did so without moving its head, and noted with satisfaction that every Council member was now in its assigned place at exactly the right time. It then nodded formally at the group as a whole.

To an Earth person, the oral language of the Masters would sound like chirps, perhaps something one would expect to hear from an exotic bird. With its high-pitched, melodic voice, the Commander now said to the Councillor on its left what would translate as, “Speaker One, provide your comments on the transmission I shared with the members of this table prior to today’s meeting. You may speak freely.”

“Commander, I think we can ignore this message for the most part,” replied Speaker One bluntly, without hesitation. Its voice was a little lower in pitch than the norm, because it wanted to sound that way, to differentiate itself. It was taking a bit of a chance with that approach, but it had an aggressive, competitive side to its persona. It kept its head completely still, but its eyes unusually darted around the table while speaking, continually looking for threats from the others.

The Commander waited for only a few moments, then it pounced loudly with the order, “Elaborate, Speaker One!”

“It came from the second mother-ship on Trajectory One Three Nine, Commander,” continued Speaker One in the same calm, low voice. “And by established protocol, that will be the last mother-ship originating from the home planet that will use that trajectory. Also by established protocol, it will now be up to any or all of our successfully established colonies along that trajectory to deal with any and all discovered threats to our species. So, why should we be concerned about it at all?”

“Speaker Two?” asked the Commander immediately. It had anticipated Speaker One’s comments, and, unfortunately, because it had so dearly wanted to pounce again, the comments had agreed with its own views.

“I agree, Commander,” said Speaker Two, after only a slight hesitation. Speaker Two stood to the left of Speaker One. “We, of course, should log the information included with the transmission for future reference, and relay it to the mother-ship following us on our trajectory. That is our duty, of course, as the pioneer mother-ship.” Speaker Two managed to keep its eyes fixed straight ahead in an unfocused stare while it spoke. The Commander noted the demonstration of proper discipline, and concluded Speaker Two was showing promise.

“Speaker Three?” asked the Commander, after a short pause for reflection.

“I agree as well, Commander,” said Speaker Three immediately. It stood next around the circumference of the table. After a moment, it added, “Further, though, I think we should not share this transmission with the rest of the crew. There is no reason to alarm them. And since no deviation from protocol is being proposed, this is not a matter that requires their consent.”

Speaker Three was indirectly drawing attention to the fact that the Council on the mother-ship was not fully empowered to make decisions. Ultimately, important matters were usually first put to a vote at the Council table, and for formal adoption, supported by at least a two-thirds majority of the entire crew. In reality, the Council was really just the sounding board for the elected Commander, who had the honour of putting matters forward for voting by the crew. The Council’s job was to make sure all aspects were properly considered and factually supported to increase the probability of successful referendums. Failed referendums were not just embarrassing. They could be life-threatening, especially when reaction time was of critical importance.

The Commander paused for a moment to consider the suggestion. It decided it seemed reasonable, so it then asked, “Speaker Four?”

“I agree with all that has been said before, Commander,” said Speaker Four, after an unusually long period of delay. In a more subdued manner, it chirped, “Can I also remind the Council that we are closely approaching a planet on our trajectory that is only one hundred and seven of our light years away from the planet that was probably referenced in the ancient transmission? It may present a similar threat to us; that is, if the hostile alien civilisation referenced in the transmission was, or is, capable of space travel.”

The Commander slowly turned its head to look at Speaker Four. The Council members around the table immediately became uncomfortable with this blatant deviation from protocol, but kept from moving their own heads. “That is very perceptive, Speaker Four,” said the Commander, with a nod of its head. “You are to be commended for sharing such penetrating insight with us.”

Speaker Four did not reveal in any physical manner the instant pleasure it felt at receiving such rare praise from a Commander. But it was suddenly conscious that all the other Councillors were now looking at it. All eyes around the table were darting around now, except for those of the Commander, who maintained a fixed stare right at Speaker Four. Jealousy was a common fault amongst them, and Speaker Four was beginning to wonder how the other Councillors might try to get even with it some day.

The Commander then turned its head to stare at Speaker Five, who instantly stopped glancing around the table, and now looked straight ahead. “Speaker Five?” asked the Commander in a stern voice.

“I also agree with all that has been said, Commander,” said Speaker Five, a bit too abruptly. It was beginning to show beads of sweat on its forehead. “Can I add, though, that the planet we are approaching shows no obvious signs of intelligent life, such as, for example, orderly, unnatural electromagnetic transmissions? And can I also add that our mother-ship is far more advanced than the mother-ship that sent out the clearly ancient transmission? The code they used was, well, to say the least, archaic. So, I suggest we have nothing to especially fear from what we might encounter on the planet now directly ahead of us on our trajectory.”

After a brief pause to note the now steady streams of sweat running down Speaker Five’s face, the Commander turned its head slowly to look at Speaker Six.

Speaker Six looked nervous and even a bit scared. The Commander smiled for the first time, and said casually, “Speaker Six, you are new to our table. But we also value your opinions, of course. That is why you are here. Can you share anything further with this elite group of Masters who are obviously senior to you; you know, something else that you believe we should consider?”

Without hesitation and with a flash of insight, Speaker Six chose the easiest and most honourable way out of this first-time, painfully stressful moment in the spotlight. It said with a waver in its chirps, “Can I offer some possibly pertinent words of guidance and inspiration taken directly from the crew training manual, Commander? That is, we, as a species, truly understand exploitation. We are collectively entitled to anything and everything we want, even if some other poor unfortunate living organisms, intelligent or otherwise, have to pay the price. That is because we are, after all, the Masters.”

After a prolonged pause, the Commander eventually nodded in agreement at the no doubt profound but essentially useless paraphrased words from Speaker Six. Then it slowly looked around the table, and said, “Thank you for your comments, Councillors. They were all helpful and illuminating.

“Now, my decision is as follows. We will not share this transmission with the crew, as I agree, we have nothing for them to decide by referendum. But we will not deviate in any manner from protocol as we explore the upcoming planet! In fact, we will be even more diligent with our initial threat assessment! Furthermore, our long-range scanners suggest this planet appears highly suitable for our needs, especially if we find there are no intelligent lifeforms upon it. Therefore, since our modern vessel is equipped with the technology and fuel to decelerate and accelerate again, multiple times, we will put the mother-ship into a parking orbit and explore this planet fully. Hopefully, we can also establish a colony upon it before we depart for the next planet on our assigned trajectory.

“And that is all for today, Councillors. This meeting is now adjourned.”

2

The mother-ship Commander was enjoying the privileged seclusion of its cabin. Masters did not sleep, but they did need to rejuvenate themselves for a few hours a day by meditating while flat out on a bed. They could put themselves into a kind of trance if their duties were not conflicting, the bed was comfortable, their surroundings were quiet and the ambient temperature was ideal for them.

The Commander had left the usual instructions with the bridge crew to only disturb it if something was threatening the ship or the plan, no matter to what degree. It was a perfectionist, and that was both good and bad. It found it sometimes impossible to rest properly. It was thinking about a few trivial matters rather than meditating when it heard the soft rap on the cabin door.

“Come!” the Commander shouted, or rather loudly chirped, as it rose to a sitting position on the side of the bed. It pushed buttons on the wall by the bed to open the door to the cabin, and turn an overhead light on.

The door slid open, and for a moment the Commander was confused by what the open portal revealed. Rigidly standing there was the off-duty and most junior Science Officer, holding its right arm straight out in a formal salute.

“What is it?” the Commander growled in low, stern-sounding tones. “No, come in, you idiot, and close the door behind you before you answer!”

The Science Officer leaped forward to comply with the order. Then it stood to attention again just inside the closed door. Then the obviously nervous novice saluted again, and yelled, “Commander! You asked to be told when the… the preliminary results of the first close-orbital scan of the planet… of the approaching planet… were available, sir! I have the honour of telling you that you can now access the detailed findings on your secure private viewer!”

The Commander sighed, scratched its immaculately trimmed beard, then closed its eyes and rubbed its eyelids. Then it looked directly at the young officer and said quietly, “I’ll study it all in detail later, cadet. No, wait, you’re an officer now, aren’t you? No, don’t answer that, I know you are. For now, give me an overview. That means, just tell me the important aspects you think I should know right now, specifically the things that might affect the plan. Use your judgement as best you can. Now, stand at ease, and begin!”

The Science Officer looked even more uncomfortable suddenly. Exercising initiative was uncommon on the mother-ship, and almost unheard of for junior members of the crew. The ship community, including its officers, found dealing with routine matters and obeying direct orders comforting. But after a frantic moment, the young Science Officer somehow forced itself to at least appear more relaxed. Then it tried very hard to simplify and condense a complex set of data analyses.

“The preliminary analyses and suppositions of our long-range scanning team have mostly been confirmed, Commander,” the Science Officer began slowly and carefully. “The planet has many interesting, perhaps unique characteristics. It is truly worthy of prolonged study, and surface exploration, as I understand you initially thought it would be. It very well could be a prime candidate for colonisation! But on the other hand, it also appears to be very dynamic, with many potential threats to the life of a Master.”

The Commander waited for a moment, and then realised it would have to prod this timid young creature to get more out of it. The Commander sighed again, and bluntly asked, with a touch of sarcasm, “Dynamic; how so, Science Officer? And threats to life; what are they, Science Officer?”

With a flash of insight and alarm, the Science Officer suddenly realised the Chief Scientist must have been intentionally trying to avoid this difficult, revealing discussion with the Commander. It did seem odd that the Chief was suddenly so busy that it had to delegate a clearly important responsibility to its most junior subordinate. But the Commander had just asked direct questions, and those questions must be answered, no matter how inadequately. So, after a quickly passing quiver of fright, the Science Officer continued, grabbing at fresh thoughts as it remembered them...