The Voting Species

THE VOTING SPECIES
,
JOHN PEARCE

COPYRIGHT ©
JOHN PEARCE 2013

SMASHWORDS EDITION

CONTENTS:

FROM WAR TO WORDS

THUMPING THE TABLE

SOMEBODY’S OUT THERE

EVOLUTION TO REVOLUTION

ACTIVE MINDS

THE
POWER OF THE PEOPLE

FROM A SCHEME TO A DREAM

OUTSIDE THE LAW

INSIDE THE LAW

PREDATOR AND PREY

THE ART OF THE STATE

THE ALIENS LAST STAND

FROM WAR TO WORDS

The jungle
dwellers looked through their tears and out across the battlefield,
they were crying to drown the tragedy of their victory. Laying
before them in the usual bloody contorted positions of post-battle
were twenty thousand of their enemies; thirty thousand more had
fled from the edge of their jungle back across the plains from
whence they’d came. They had protected their jungle home yet again,
this time with an army of four thousand. Now, with two hundred
less, they lined up to lament the predicament they had been put in
by another people similar to their own. A people that would not
talk or trade, but kept trying to take their fertile jungle by the
force of greater numbers. They dared hope that their latest victory
would convince their enemies to take a more peaceful path to their
mutual salvation.

T
hey were now free to concentrate
on the new threat they’d lived well and truly under. For many of
their days now, two large objects had flown over their heads,
sometimes landing, with yet another people alighting and wandering
all over their land. One object would shoot bolts of thunder and
lightning at them from the vantage of the sky, whilst another would
fly about aimlessly and occasionally hover over them. The jungle
dwellers did not elevate these people to the level of gods, but
deduced they were from another world much like their own. They used
their knowledge to keep out of sight of these flyers; they knew
well how to run and hide, but thought it prudent to fight back only
when they had to. They wondered how long it would be before they
too could explore the stars, was there a chance that they would
ever reach out to each other, but most of all they wanted to know
why others were so different from themselves?

Some of
t
hese others had now found fourteen other
planets to their liking. Forty billion humans, along with the ten
billion at home made up the Galactic Federation; flexing their
democratic muscles by electing fifteen senators every five years to
the senate established on Earth. As of now, there had been no
intelligent extraterrestrial life recognized, there had been a few
humanoids scanned and dismissed as near misses. Not everybody was
disappointed by this. Gene scans allowed the transparency that
suggested to humans their past, present and future, suggested to
and not dictated to because of the mellowing affects that choice
had on their behaviour. One of evolutions more dubious mutations,
politics, thus evolved on Earth and spread out across the
Galaxy.

It took the
best part of the twenty first century before the human race
realized that their planet could afford their genetics, but not
their behaviour, especially if they all wanted to share the same
joys as the platinum plated few. This motivator drove them out into
the heavens so that they could spread their genes throughout the
Galaxy and onto the planets they assumed were obediently waiting
for them. Evolution had already visited these luxuriant prizes and
repeated its wondrous welcome, you still do it my way! Despite
this, the Prospector was cutting its way through space back to
Earth, leaving the space-time fabric swirling in its
wake.

T
he invisible forces fired by
their genes had driven some into reaching out across the DNA gap as
well as the Galactic sized constituency. Twelve green clad alien
warriors and four khaki clad human scientists had now adapted to
become a team that had won the .latest round of gene and jungle
warfare.

The
humans were drawn to the uncomplicated way their
alien friends always behaved. Whether it was a matter of life and
death as demonstrated in the jungle, or the social niceties of a
shared meal, they were always direct in comments that were never
warped by human like pretensions. All eight males were roughly the
same height and build as Denton, tall and slim, but their chests
were a little larger. The females were about twenty five
centimetres shorter, the same athletic chests made it difficult for
them to hide their gender, even if they saw any point in doing so.
Their skin and its tone were indistinguishable from slightly tanned
human skin. There was a meagre covering of fair hair below their
necklines, which the Professor observed had nearly evolved away.
All their faces were clear of hair and both sexes didn’t need to
succumb to the ritual of daily shaving. Their eyes were mainly
lighter coloured and set above higher cheekbones, the males had a
harder look than their females. For both sexes there were various
shades of a mop of brown hair on their heads that could be mistaken
for the creativity of any expensive salon back on Earth. They did
in fact look like the fittest of humans, who hadn’t let their gym
memberships lapse

Denton’s dark
blue eyes narrowed from under his black hair.
‘Just for our dangerous curiosities Prof, what else is
going on? A view from you and the warriors would be most
appreciated. We may even forgive you for risking our
necks.’

The little
man peered through his light blue twinkly eyes
, set in a face made pinker by the sun over the jungle
they’d just fought in. His ruffled grey hair and beard contrasted
with his three younger charges, all now tanned. He was dwarfed by
Mick from the Origins Society who was broad even for his two metre
height. Atop which was a clean shaven head with hard looking eyes.
He and the fourth human, James Tubary, Denton’s friend and business
partner, had met before this adventure in an unarmed combat bout.
Both had received the training for this sport, but had learnt how
to kill should they get really grumpy. Tubary was a miniscule
average height by comparison with Mountain Mick, his fighting name,
but broad; his speed was his edge. He was always the man of action,
his hazel eyes often sparkling from under his tousled sandy hair
when danger threatened. Denton on the other hand preferred exercise
only for health objectives, and tried to use his brain to keep
himself out of trouble, he didn’t always succeed in this ambition.
They all looked on as Professor Anton Devereaux spoke.

‘
As I see it
the Admiral
’s working at a number of
levels, I can’t read him, which is probably why he’s Head of
Intelligence. He’s got to close the net on the bastards behind
Cyan’s problems. One chink in his black uniform is that he appears
to want intelligent aliens recognized as such.’

‘Why a chink?’

‘He has the Senate refusing to acknowledge
the existence of intelligent aliens!’

‘
Is he
ramming the genetics evidence from Planet 2374 down the Senator’s
throats?’

‘I don’t think so, he’s trying something
different this time.’

‘Any idea what?’

‘No, have you got any idea Boss?’

Boss and the
other warriors shook their heads.

‘
As for Cyan,
only the gods know what else can happen there!’ lamented the
Professor.

Denton
sighed. ‘That last come home order we received was about moving
from genetics into politics!’

THUMPING THE TABLE

‘Here it comes Commander, this is a case of
the nuclear waste hitting the Cyan fan, a real explosion!’ The grey
alert eyes of Admiral Maltravers narrowed as he spoke to Commander
Kronstein, who allowed his customary faint smile to escape his thin
lips. ‘They’re even honouring us with a visit.’

Just minutes
before, the Leader of the Senate along with the Senator for Cyan
and his legal adviser had demanded a meeting with the Admiral. They
had flown the short distance from the Senate to the Europa Military
base and barked at the nearest receptionist to take them to the
boardroom. Job done, the receptionist had to move herself rapidly
from the doorway, for fear of being trampled by these august middle
aged visitors. She just managed to get the customary formality of
an unnecessary introduction out of her panting lungs, towards the
two tall military men standing in their immaculate black uniforms.
The Admiral smiled from under his tidy short grey hair, the
Commander did the same from under his slicked down black
hair.

‘
Thank you,
that will be all,’ said the Admiral coolly. ‘Coffee
Senators?’

‘
Yes,’ hissed
Senator Cantrell, the Leader of the Senate, a large dark haired man
who wore the usual grey business suit, but felt his office allowed
him the latitude of wearing a dark red polo neck shirt. The other
two were no less conventional but wore different shades of tan
suits, the slim sandy haired Senator Goring choosing the lighter
one with a mustard shirt. His legal adviser Mr Stanford, short and
rotund, making a safer statement with a darker tan suit and a dark
green shirt.

‘Please sit down gentleman,’ the Admiral
continued, ‘I understand you have concerns about security on
Cyan.’

Senators Cantrell and Goring shuffled into
the chairs to his left while Stanford sat next to the Commander,
both to his right.

Cantrell was
the Senator for Earth, but allowed Goring to start the complaint.
‘Our research lab was attacked yesterday by a group of hooligans
calling themselves health researchers. There has been no interest
shown by the military despite several complaints made to this base
directly from the Cyan Government.’

‘Anything new on this Commander?’ the Admiral
asked.

‘
No Admiral,
as you are aware, we tried to get inputs from reliable witnesses by
way of encrypted quantums. We received the most incredible account
of what appeared to be a confrontation between aliens and guards
who were concealing an unlicensed nuclear project.’

‘The application went in an hour ago,’ rasped
Stanford, ‘CY589834.’

‘Better late than never Mr Stanford,’ the
Admiral said, ‘now at least we’ve something solid to go on. As this
matter appears to have wider implications than just hooliganism,
somebody senior’s account of what happened would be most
welcome.’

Senator Goring continued robustly, ‘Cyan
funded guards were ambushed by a health research group, most of the
guards were shot with twelve injured.’

‘How many attackers?’

The Senator hesitated. ‘At least seven, three
humans were around somewhere.’

‘How many guards?’

‘About twenty.’

The Admiral
made the point of looking at the Commander incredulously. ‘There
must have been a glitch in the quantum, our information says one
hundred and twenty.’ Then he looked back at the Senator. ‘Not very
proficient your guards!’

‘The attackers were aliens, the like of which
had never been seen before.’

‘
With or
without intelligence?’

‘This isn’t funny Admiral, first they used
bows and arrows, injuring twelve guards, and then they shot the
others with laser rifles.’

‘
What makes
you think they were aliens? Were they scanned?’

‘
They must
have been aliens, they used bows and arrows.’

‘They sound like intelligent aliens to
me.’

‘
Are you
taking this seriously Admiral?’

‘
You must
forgive me Senator, but I’ve
already had
feedback from Cyanese witnesses. How many guards were
killed?’

The Senator hesitated again. ‘None, the
rifles were obviously set on stun.’

‘Is there anything else you wish to add
Senators? Mr Stanford?’

‘Yes,’ interrupted Senator Cantrell
pompously, ‘an expensive gunship was destroyed, its engine was
blown apart by a laser cannon.’

‘Ah, you must have some form of evidence from
detecting this ship, I assume it was a ship.’

Now it was
Senator Cantrell’s turn to hesitate. ‘Er…no evidence, it must have
been a ship, what else could it have been.’