The Aeolian Master Book One Revival, Page 2

  As Ben entered and stepped onto the plush carpet, a beautiful woman, behind the only desk in the room, motioned to him. "Professor Hillar?"

  "Yes."

  "Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. The Galaef will see you momentarily." She smiled pleasantly.

  Ben walked over to a luxurious lounge chair and sat down.

  When he was told the Galaef wanted to see him, he assumed it would be some lesser official at the Galactic Headquarters who would be conducting the interview. How many people actually saw the Galaef in person? How many stood and spoke before him? Out of more than two million inhabited planets the number was extremely small, perhaps less than a thousand people would ever meet the Galaef in person.

  After waiting three hours and some change in minutes the receptionist motioned Ben toward her desk. "The Galaef will see you now," she said.

  Ben was wondering if anyone understood the word, ‘momentarily.’ That was the longest three hour moment he had ever experienced. He walked across the room and entered the Galaef's office. He stepped on tiled marble and then, as he proceeded further into the room, he stepped onto a carpet which felt unusually soft beneath his feet.

  He stopped a second. Damn! He thought. A strange sensation came over him the moment his foot hit the carpet. It seemed as though thousands of little electric messengers were coursing through his body, stimulating the cells, the nerves, and awakening his brain to such an awareness that he never thought possible. The colors throughout the room took on a new meaning. They were more vibrant. The air came alive with heightened scents. Breathing became a joy. His mind became sharper, and his ability to concentrate became more focused.

  "L" Carpet, he thought. Another Galactic rumor come true.

  Only the very rich had “L” Carpet. Only the very rich could afford to buy this type of floor covering.

  As he became accustomed to the new sensation coursing through his body he noticed the room in which he was standing was huge and, of course, exquisitely designed. There were several split-level sections located in appropriate areas with different types of equipment in each section—mostly computer terminals, screens and viewers. The wall to his right was solid, but designed for visual elegance with hues of gold and brown, and the wall to his left was a spectacular three dimensional window which overlooked the Inner and Outer city hundreds of stories below. Near the back wall of the room were four transport tubes for emergency exits. At a quick glance Ben could see seven people in various locations. There were two uniformed guards standing against the back wall next to the transport tubes, a woman near the right hand wall, another guard to the right and closer to Ben, two men to the left. And in the middle of the room, standing on a platform, which rose from a sunken area, was a tall, distinguished-looking man.

  Ben recognized him as the Galaef. He was easily six feet four inches tall. His hair was white, but that of birth rather than that of age. He looked young for a politician, perhaps only in his early forties. His eyes were steel gray. His nose was long and straight, and was set above a mouth which was full but handsome. His dark skin made a stunning contrast to his white hair, and strength and authority radiated from his being. No doubt about it, thought Ben, he looks better in person.

  Ben suddenly remembered what the receptionist had told him, so, he started down on one knee. Being subservient, especially to politicians, or so-called royalty, did not please Ben, however, what could he do except follow protocol.

  "Get up!" boomed a voice from across the room. It was the Galaef speaking. "We have no need nor time for formality around here."

  Ben slowly rose from his knee. He was thinking he was already starting to like this man—in spite of the fact that he was a politician.

  "My name is Taul Winler," he said. "I am the Galaef of the Galactic Empire." He paused a moment and looked at the man on his right. "This is Thorne, my second-in-command, and behind him is his personal secretary, Jordan."

  Looking at Thorne he saw a man of seemingly good looks with a bearing of strength as of all the other men he had seen in the building. He stood tall, at six foot three—only an inch shorter than the Galaef, and he had the most perfect posture Ben had ever seen, the posture every mother dreams of.

  The Galaef continued with the introductions. “And this is Mordrous.” He pointed at a man standing ten feet in front and off to the left. “He is my chief security officer.” The man was six foot three, built like a bull, had huge, muscular arms, and was extremely handsome.

  Only the best, thought Ben. He knew this man was versed in all forms of weaponry and hand to hand combat, and could probably kill you in an instant.

  "And let me not forget my personal secretary." The Galaef motioned toward his immediate left. "This is Myra."

  Ben had heard about Myra even as he had heard other rumors about G-staff. And though he had seen the Galaef on the viewer a few times, Myra was never in the news, because the Galaef didn't allow it. So, until now, in Ben's mind, she had only been an unknown face, involved, but behind the scenes of Galactic politics.

  As Ben looked in her direction he saw a tall woman sitting serenely in a form-fitting chair. She was manipulating some type of recording device, using a keyboard, and watching a computer screen. She sat at an angle, in accordance to the position of the computer, exposing mostly her profile. Her long hair was flowing in waves of reddish gold and stopped about half way down her back. She was approximately five feet ten inches tall. Her sensuous figure fit snugly into a white suit. She had a small nose and delicate lips. But as she turned and looked at Ben, as if studying him, he noticed that her most striking feature was her eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a cat. When the light hit them at a certain angle they would glow like orbs with the light penetrating through a translucent blue. Her eyes were vacant in expression, like a vacuum pulling upon the world. Ben had never seen such eyes—ever.

  "She is very beautiful. Isn't she Professor Hillar?"

  Ben had heard that the Galaef knew just how beautiful, and he was quick to take advantage of it. He used her in political bouts. He staged her beauty in front of planetary heads of state—it didn't matter if they were men or women.

  And rumor had it that the Galaef had used her magnetic presence at the great debates of Ar. The debates were not going well. The planetary council wanted forty percent of the Zen I mining profits. To this they had good claim, but the Galaef was proposing five percent and trying to make it seem reasonable. He wasn't able to persuade them, and consequently the outcome looked like a hard fought battle with a final compromise of twenty-five percent. It was then that his personal secretary entered the room. The five members of the council seemed dazed. When the Galaef spoke they would be attentive, but somehow their eyes always wandered back to Myra. At this time the Galaef began his tirade on the cost of supporting an empire. He talked about the support of the star fleet, the cost of supporting the personnel and maintaining the equipment. The cost was staggering. He spoke of the planet Galactus VII, the home of the Galactic Empire Headquarters. He spoke of the giant complex of the computer system and the personnel needed to run it.

  He went into great detail, being long winded, he left out no particulars. Finally the councilmen could do nothing but agree.

  The outcome was ten percent.

  Indeed, Myra was a great asset to the Galaef's political reign. And Ben could understand why. It seemed she possessed an unnatural magnetism, which altered a person's concentration and drew them unwittingly into her spell. But the eyes . . . .

  The Galaef turned and picked up a notebook. "After I read your proposal on the Aeolian myth, I wanted to know more about you." He opened the notebook. "A few years ago you received your Ph.D. in Galactic Archaehistory. Very commendable, I must add, at having done so in such a short period of time. After receiving your Ph.D. you continued to do post doctoral work on your original thesis. You went to Earth, on an expedition, where you uncovered enough information to lead to a reasonable theory about the ori
gins of the myth. Then two months ago you submitted to the council of your home planet a request for a grant in the sum of two thousand tal. As you put it, ‘just enough to sponsor a most important archeological expedition. One that may lead to answers concerning the mystery behind the myth of the Aeolian Master.’"

  The Galaef leaned forward as he continued. "Normally, these matters are left to the lesser councils to decide upon, but I have found an interest in your theory, and I feel there may be some truth to it." He stood up, stepped off the dais and walked toward Ben. He stopped when he was but a few feet away. He stared down at him.

  "According to your theory," he continued, "the Aeolian Master is more than just a myth." The Galaef turned and walked toward Myra. He looked over her shoulder at the screen, and then turned again toward Ben.

  "The myth of the Aeolian Master . . . ," the Galaef paused, "am I pronouncing that right, Professor? e o lee an?"

  "Yes, that's correct, Sire."

  "Well then, the myth describes him as a giant of a man eight feet tall. He wore garments made of metal—garments that were put upon his body with locks that had no keys. His physique was so muscular, his face so handsome that mere mortal women swooned at his presence and could not regain consciousness until he was gone. During his life, of the twenty-second century of ancient Earth, he never did wrong, but was always helping those in need. But then one day he became so angry at men's petty bickering and wars and killings that he turned upon his chariot and flew into the sky. There he captured bolts of lightening and hurled them onto the Earth causing much destruction and death. And since he is the God of the winds, he was able to summon up the winds causing tidal waves, hurricanes and tornadoes, and with these he wreaked havoc upon the cities of the Earth.

  "After his anger had subsided and after seeing his ill deed, he sorrowed grievously. Finally, he went to another planet, and there he drank poison. But, of course, poison cannot kill a God. Instead it rendered him into a state of unconsciousness. There he would remain for eons of time, sleeping in his chariot until the effects of the poison wore off,” he paused. "Have I forgotten anything?"

  "Generally speaking, you have covered the major story line of the myth, Sire."

  The Galaef walked back to the dais and sat down in his chair. “Well then,” he said in a thoughtful tone, “the proposition that there was a God of the winds who became angry with the inhabitants of the Earth and destroyed them is an absurd idea. And when considering all the facts, we could say that the holocaust, which destroyed all human life on Earth was just one of those unusual events and that, in reality, it was the nuclear war that caused the annihilation. Yes, we could certainly say that; except for one strange phenomenon—most scientists, who have studied the Earth, agree that only a small part of the damage was caused by the nuclear war. Most of it was caused by natural disasters, such as hurricanes, tornados, and tidal waves, which started sometime near the end of the war. And even though it would be extremely unusual for winds to cause this much damage, it could still be considered a possibility, except, and this is the real mystery—our scientists know conclusively that the climactic conditions on Earth are not right for continually producing winds with these destructive capabilities—winds that never cease, hundreds of hurricanes ravaging the Earth every second of the day.” The Galaef, with a pensive look on his face, continued, “When I studied the Earth in a post graduate course, I was convinced that this was probably the most puzzling mystery in the Universe. I asked myself, ‘what is causing these winds? How could they be so strong as to destroy most of the cities on Earth? How can they be created when our scientists have shown that the atmospheric conditions do not support their existence?’

  “Then, you add all these facts to the myth of the Aeolian Master, in which the God of the winds was angry at the citizens of the Earth, and it really makes you wonder.

  “I realize there are no Gods who can control the winds, but maybe there was a man or an alien, who . . . , who . . . . No. I don’t know. It’s not often that I am unable to make an educated guess, but this is too much of a mystery.” The Galaef paused in thought, then he asked, “What do you think, professor?”

  Ben shrugged his shoulders. “My interest has been more in the myth than in the climatology, but if I had to make a statement, I would say it puzzles me as much as it does you. As far as I know there is no scientific explanation for what has and is taking place on Earth. The winds are out of control, and no one knows why.”

  The Galaef gave Ben a look, which said there is still hope of finding an answer. “So, if we conduct a search in accordance with your theory on the myth of the Aeolian Master, we might be able to solve the mystery. As most scientists and historians will agree, myths usually have a basis of fact or foundation of truth. The extent of the fact involved in a myth is dependent upon several factors: one, how old is the myth; two, how much retelling of the story was involved; three, how socially acceptable were tales of fiction in the culture from which it sprang; four, how superstitious were the people telling the story, and to keep from oversimplifying, I am sure there are other factors involved." The Galaef leaned back in his chair. "You have done extensive research on the 'Aeolian Master' myth. From this you have come up with some very interesting ideas."

  Thorne frowned. "Sire, if I may interject?"

  "You may," answered the Galaef.

  "Sire, it seems to me that Professor Hillar may have found some trivial archaeological research to perform, and perhaps we should invest some money in it, but I feel, Sire, that for you to personally take part in this research is beneath your station."

  "Nonsense," reprimanded the Galaef in his loud voice. The Galaef smiled. "Tell us about your theory."

  "It occurred to me, though I wasn't willing to accept it at first, that possibly the spaceship—named the ‘Chariot,’ which went to Ar just before the nuclear war ended, was the chariot in the myth. It was an intriguing idea, if nothing more.

  "Later, as I delved further into the deciphering of the ancient Earth writings, I discovered that Earth had not only colonized four planets, including Mars, Venus, and two of the moons of Jupiter, but they had also built the first computer complex just under the surface of the planet Mars. It was a very large complex, or so it was thought by the Earthians at that time. It was two miles deep, four miles wide, and five miles long. It was similar to the forerunner of our modern complexes using the same type of energy to power its circuitry—Zirnon Eneferrin I. I also found that they had discovered the principles of suspended animation."

  Thorne interrupted without the Galaef's permission. "The most brilliant minds in the Galaxy have yet to discover the principles of suspended animation. You actually think Earth was able to do so?" He looked at the Galaef. "If I may continue, Sire?"

  The Galaef nodded his consent.

  "Do you actually believe there is a man in the middle of Ar who has been living for six hundred years in suspended animation? Do you . . ."

  "That's enough," interrupted the Galaef.

  Thorne sat down in his chair. He continued a stare of indifference at Ben—a stare which caused a chill to go down Ben's spine.

  “Please continue,” said the Galaef.

  Ben replied, "Thorne has just about said it all." Without making it obvious, Ben glanced at Thorne, but only for a moment, and then he looked back at the Galaef. "A man, who later became the figure in the myth," continued Ben, "was a volunteer for a scientific project designed to test suspended animation. Later, after several months or even years had passed, the war on Earth became so threatening to the project they decided to move it to the computer complex under the surface of Mars, or Ar, as it's called today.

  "I'm assuming eventually the war caused the supply line to Ar to be cut off. The colonists and those running the computer complex were forced to leave Ar and return to earth or to one of the other colonies, but for some reason it wasn’t possible for them to revive the man in the chamber. It may be that reviving him too fast would have
killed him, so they left him in the chamber and fled.

  "Somewhere in the computer complex his life functions were given over to the control of the computer. Considering that a man's life was involved, and considering the value they placed on human life at that time in their history, there can be little doubt that there were fail safe systems incorporated. If the computer had shut down due to an energy shortage, a very small part of it would continue to function on an energy supply reserved especially for the failsafe system.

  "I, like Thorne, am skeptical that the man may still be alive, however, finding an ancient computer complex would be well worth the time and money for the expedition. It's even possible that new facts about suspended animation would be uncovered."

  "It's a very interesting theory, Professor. If I hadn't thought so you wouldn't be here now. But there is one more question, how do you expect to finance an excavation with a mere two thousand Tal?"

  "Immediate excavation wasn't part of the plan. An assistant and I were going to lease a planet analyzer and go to Mars to set up a systematic search for excessive amounts of artificially molded metal alloys beneath the surface of the planet."

  "And then?" asked the Galaef.

  Ben shrugged. "If we were to locate the computer complex, then I would have expected no trouble in gaining another grant for the excavation."

  The Galaef stood up and walked over to Myra. He bent down and whispered something in her ear. She sat calmly watching Ben as she nodded.

  The Galaef straightened up and said, "Thank you Professor. You can wait in the antechamber."

  And just like that, the audience was finished. So, Ben turned around and walked into the other room.

  *