The Finite Void: The History Department at the University of Centrum Kath, #3

By SC Marshall

Mechs are killing all life in the miniverse next door. 

The survivors of Good and Evil from the Final War are fleeing back into our universe. 

Can Koven Modi and Rusa save them from Mech destruction? 
Can they save us from a Mech fleet invading our universe. 
Can Koven save himself? 
Will he ever get laid again? 

The election campaign for the Chancellor position at the University of Centrum Kath is in full swing. Jugglers, Interior Designers, Musicians, Actors, all sorts join the thousands of candidates. There might even be one or two qualified people too. 'It's Morning in the Universe' versus 'Make the Universe Great Again' battle it out with 'I Bring the Revolution' for best campaign advert. 

Will Earth Five (our planet) self-destruct and screw up the Sociology Departments budget? Professor Trill is desperate to avoid a prorated custodial payment. He's already spent more than that. 

Meet Hong, a young woman from North Korea who has a special ability, she can hit far away objects with smalls pieces of metal propelled from tubes at a high velocity. She arrived in Orlando with one million dollars in counterfeit currency. Will she become the hero of her nation? Or will she be chained to a NK missile and blasted out over the Sea of Japan? 

Why is Vegemite so important to the universe? 

'A wild ride of a story' said someone who reviewed the outline before I started writing. 

If you've ever wondered just how things work out among the stars read 'The Finite Void'. 

As always, there is a money back guarantee if your planet self-destructs before you read my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foxtail Media
• Release date: Jan 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386439493

Book preview

The Finite Void

And the History Department at the University of Centrum Kath

By SC Marshall

Yeah, I wrote this. Blame no one else.

Florida 2017

(Y34R Z3R0)

This is a work of satirical fiction but you already knew that

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

READER’S GROUP

Steve Who?

Complaints Department: [e-mail]

More stuff like this: stevemauthor.com

List of all my books: see ‘Shameless Self-Promotion’ at the end of this book

CHAPTER ONE

In times when the line between humans and machines becomes blurred, there is one thing which separates the two. Humans have the potential for mercy.

- The Final McGee

Location: Scout Family Farm, 100 acres of farmland high in the Young Mountains on Andil Four - the other side of the Void

I saw them. Come quick. Newt was out of breath and there was a wild look in his eyes. Peyfo looked up from his book at his son, then over to his wife, Parebant. He stood quickly and walked over to the mantle and removed the long rifle hanging above the fireplace. The smell of fresh baked bread filled the house.

Remain calm and listen carefully, he said to the rest of the family. Gather some food and wait near the back door for me.

Father, will we go to the caves? asked his youngest daughter, Servus.

I don't know. But while I'm gone, pray. Servus picked up the Book of Menda and put it in the pocket of her apron.

They were called the Mechs and they arrived on Andil Four two days ago. During that time the radio was filled with reports of the large metal machines hovering in the sky, as large as a village, destroying everything on the ground. The first attack was on the capital city, Zevon. It took less than half a day before the capital and its one million inhabitants were annihilated, according to the radio chatter. 

Newt walked beside his father to the front door of the farmhouse. When they got to the door, his father put his hand on his shoulder.

Wait here, Peyfo said.

But Father, Newt protested. Peyfo raised his hand to silence him.

No. You stay. If I'm not back in three minutes, get the family to the caves.

Newt did not respond.

Well? Peyfo demanded, and raised up his fist to threaten Newt.

Okay, okay, Newt said, backing away quickly. Peyfo hastily opened the door and was gone.

His mother motioned for him to come to the kitchen. She held a large rough sack, the kind they used for potatoes. It was half full of food. She handed it to Newt.

Is it too heavy?

No, Mom. I can carry it even when it's full.

You're a good son. The family is blessed that you are part of us.

Mother, can I bring my wedding dress or do you think it will get ruined in the caves? asked Pareb. Pareb Scout was planning to get married to Closse Bronton after nearly two years of courtship.

Cover it carefully in cloth and put pillows on top of it in the basket. That should keep it safe, replied her mother.

I'm worried, Mother. Closse didn't call me on the radio this morning. And he calls me first thing every morning. I don't know what I'll do if something happens to him. I'll just want to die.

We all know how much you love him, dear. But right now I need you filling bottles of water.

Yes, Mother, the woman replied in the voice of trained submission.

When his mother finished filling the sack, Newt carried it to the back door. As he passed through his father's workshop, he grabbed two boxes of bullets and two pistols and shoved them into the sack.

Meanwhile, Peyfo stood at the edge of the trees surrounding the house and looked far off in the distance, past his field of corn ready for harvest, past the barns and chicken coops, and past the steep cliff that marked the edge of his property to the south. Several miles away, a huge spacecraft larger than the Great Temple in the capital city floated effortlessly in the air. Coming from the underside of the vessel were blinding white-blue lights. Where these lights touched the ground everything was incinerated instantly; nothing but ash remained. There were many explosions from the heat.

Peyfo was scared. He watched the ship as it destroyed his neighbor’s farmhouse systematically and efficiently, the beams moving across the land in the same way Peyfo ploughed his fields. The Bronton farmhouse was reduced to ash. He turned and ran back toward his house.

Little was known about the Mechs. They appeared in the sky two days ago and the destruction began. They showed no mercy. Or compassion. There was a rumor that came across the radio last night. A mobile radio operator claimed to have found the frequency used by the Mechs. But he said the language was unknown to him and consisted of machine-created beeps at high speed. There was no evidence they were human.

Peyfo recalled the history passed down to the Elders. The way their people were held in slavery under the rule of the heathen Bitch McGee, the whore that slaughtered billions of them rather than submit to the truth. Then the miraculous story of their escape and the way the Void welcomed them into its darkness then swallowed up and destroyed the forces of McGee as they entered in murderous pursuit. And after a long time in darkness, they came out on the other side of the Void and into Paradise.

Now this. The Bitch McGee had finally found them. She was immortal because she was the devil.

As he entered the front door, his wife looked at his worried face.

Did you see them?

Only one ship. But that's all they needed. Destiny has been destroyed.

The entire town? asked Parebant.

Everything.

Even the temple?

There was a pause before he said, Yes.

But that's impossible, said Servus. We're protected.

Until we aren't, and that is now, Peyfo replied.

But Elder Thompson says...

I know what Elder Thompson says, replied Peyfo in an annoyed tone of voice. I am not going to argue with you, child! Shut up and help your brother with the food. We're going to the caves and we're going right now.

Servus began to cry. Pareb moved over to her quickly and put her arms around her. She did this to soothe the younger sister and to protect her from their father's temper.

Get moving, their father yelled at them. They separated quickly and ran to the kitchen to their mother.

You should not be so hard on them, said Parebant as she handed each of them a small sack of food and gave them a soft pat.

Don't you start with me, woman. I've got enough to worry about right now without your damned unholy attitude. So you shut the hell up or I will shut you up. Do you understand?

Yes, my husband dear, I understand you perfectly, she replied with a voice of compliance painted over years of resentment.

They were less than one hundred meters from the opening of the caves when the ship began to destroy the cornfields. A few seconds later the farmhouse that they built with their own hands succumbed to the destructive beams. There was a large explosion as the flammable liquids in the workshop ignited. They all heard it and began running as fast as they could towards the opening of the cave.

Parebant led the children into the cave. They stopped to light the oil lanterns. Peyfo stood just inside of the cave and watched as his life's work became nothing but ash and cinders. Every tree that made up their home had been cut down by him. Every acre of crops, vegetables and fruit had been planted by him. And now it was gone. The anger took hold of him again. He hated the anger. He couldn't control it and it made him do things he regretted later.

He wasn't in control. It wasn't his fault, he told himself as had billions of the weak before him.

Here, Father, have some water, said Newt.

His father slapped the cup from his hand. Leave me alone, came the angry, bitter words.

Newt bent over to pick up the cup. When he did, his father kicked him to the ground.

Leave me alone. I won't tell you again.

Yes, Father, said the young boy, scared of another beating. He moved back into the cave and towards the light and the voices of his mother and sisters.

Anger is a terrible thing if not kept under control. It reduces the intellect and causes stupid actions. And this time was no different. Peyfo raised the long rifle to his line of sight and aimed it at the ship. Then he took a deep breath, grunted an obscenity under his breath, and fired his weapon three times.

Just a moment later the white-blue beam hit the opening of the cave. Peyfo was immediately incinerated, his body transformed into ash and dust and falling to the ground. But worse than the demise of a broken man, the only opening to the cave collapsed, and the family of the disappointing man was trapped inside.

They survived nearly five weeks before the food and water ran out. Their final meals were the pages from the Book of Menda. They still had hope it would save them. Instead they all became ill from the ink used on the paper.

On their last day, Newt took the pistol from the sack and loaded it. After a long time of thinking, reflection, and crying, the cave echoed with the first of four loud gunshots.

In the end, all sentient life on Andil Four was exterminated. The Mech ships moved on. 

––––––––

What do you mean that I'm an Improbable? I'm as probable as the next person.

- The First McGee (before she knew)

CHAPTER TWO

What is that smell? asked Professor Plunk. They all got off the newly working elevator at the top floor, formerly the elegant offices of the Chancellor at the University of Centrum Kath. Now just a burnt-out shell.

It's the bathrooms. Someone reversed the polarities on the macerator and pumped them all back up here. Adam Fu smiled at Professor Plunk, then looked over to acting Chancellor Wingut.

Luckily it's only the deodorizer that was pumped back up here. Never realize how bad it smells when there's a lot of it, Fu added. Professor Plunk nodded in agreement. They made their way past what was once an ultramodern synthetic polymer sofa that adjusted form to the individual backside sitting on it. And it was a very pretty dark red color. But now it was just blackened goo. Above the sofa were four small magnets arranged in a rectangular shape. They were all that remained of the art piece that used to hang there.

Did you hear about the pilot from Transgalactic Moving? asked Professor Rosnert to Professor Trill, who was walking beside him.

Yes. It makes me wish we were a little less democratic sometimes, replied Trill.

Everybody is waiting to hear if you will enter the race, Plunk said, looking at Rosnert.

Professor Rosnert did a near perfect rendition of fake humility as he answered, Well, let’s see what happens. There are more qualified candidates than me, he said with a nod towards Wingut. Wingut ignored them and turned to Professor Angela David, the chief of structural engineering. They were standing next to one of the metal structural beams of the building.

How long did you say? he asked her.

Five to seven revs. And if all the structural elements test safely, then renovation can begin, the tall, strong woman replied.

But I've got a renovation crew standing by now. They stopped work on the new sports arena to get this place back up and running quickly. Now we've got to wait? Adam Fu did not sound happy.

But then Adam Fu was not a happy person. He believed that the men and women that reported to him secretly conspired to loiter on the job as much as they could. So he made up for it by aggressively working to make sure they all had something to do. He would check with them first thing in the morning, just after lunch, and midafternoon too. He would hand out the work and try to carefully match the skills required to the person assigned to the work. And if he was successful, then except for the three times per day when he interacted with his subordinates, then it was Adam Fu who got to loiter on the job. He would sit in his office, the walls set to opaque, and watch sporting events broadcast by the gambling casinos of Infelos Neso. He had recently begun watching the sport on Earth Five called rugby. It was violent, it was fun, and he supported team Australia. And they all played without a remedium, which Fu considered to be an insane proposition.

Well, if it takes that long to make sure everyone is safe, then I don't see that we have a choice. Do we? asked Wingut. He smiled when he said this because whether he was acting chancellor or not, he wanted to work out of his old office. He didn't need an entire floor of a high-rise building to do his job. It seemed wasteful and pompous. But he did like the pool and gymnasium and would make the effort to walk over and use them on alternating days. Still, he wanted nothing to do with the renovated chancellor's office. Best to leave it simple and plain and let the next person with the job put it the way they wanted it.

Will this be paid for from the chancellor’s departmental budget or the capital investment budget? asked Fu.

I have no idea, replied Wingut. What do you think? he added, and he turned and looked at Professor Plunk.

The sort of thing has never happened before. I suggest that we plan on a fifty percent allocation to each budget for now. If we get a better answer, make an adjustment. An adjusting entry, replied Professor Plunk.

I agree. Thank you, said Wingut.

They walked down what used to be a hallway that was now just a path marked by the line of black goo that were once walls. They turned into the large expanse that was the chancellor's main office.

What in the name of hydrogen is that smell? asked Professor David.

Yes. That smell. Some of the people took the opportunity to express their displeasure through fecal means, replied Fu. If we had been permitted to start the renovation, it would've already been dealt with.

I understand. You want to do a good job. We want you to be safe doing it, replied Wingut with a smile.

They didn't spend much time in the chancellor's office.

I listened to the pilot's speech on Unfiltered, said Rosnert. Out-of-control academics.

Seriously? Is that what he called us? asked Trill, then accepted not getting an answer as an answer. There should be a set of minimum qualifications.

The university warps our perspective and disqualifies us, replied Rosnert.

That's all bullshit, said Trill. What does he know? He just carries cargo from here to there. He has no idea about research budgeting, knowledge management, quality systems. None of it. Just a flyboy with an opinion, Trill said sarcastically.

You know that will cause a rush of others into the race. If you're going to announce your candidacy, said Professor Rosnert.

Oh no, not me. I don't want the job, replied Trill.

Professor Rosnert smiled.

There is a significant history of people holding positions for which they would be considered traditionally unqualified to hold. There was the juggler who became president of the Binford Republic on Jupiter Five. Fortunately, it was largely a ceremonial position. However, that wasn't enough to prevent a diplomatic crisis between the Binford Republic and the Halstrom Republic over some rather drunken unkind remarks of a sexual nature made by the Juggler In Chief. When the people of the Binford Republic learned what their president had said, many of them wished they had voted for the mime instead. After threats of war were directed towards them, the people of the Binford Republic handed over their juggler/president in a swap for ten wheels of some very good cheese. The history of the universe is littered with tens of thousands of similar examples.

But let's be as fair as a historian can be.

It must be noted that occasionally some do an exemplary job despite a lack of hard qualifications. I am referring to the famous case of Sheena Sort, a former sex worker that was elected planetary president on Nufee. The Nufee are notorious for being argumentative and rude. She has been the only leader in Nufee history that was able to build a working coalition among the forty-three political parties on the planet. Much has been done under her.

Chancellor, said Professor Trill in his most sycophantic tone.

Acting Chancellor, Wingut replied.

Acting Chancellor. We need to discuss the custody of Earth Eight. They have made significant progress recently. They have invented the printing press. The potential for widespread knowledge has never been higher.

We'll see, said Wingut. Let's get a little more history with Earth Five before we go expanding your portfolio.

Have you thought about what you will do when there is a new chancellor?

Back to being a regular historian, Wingut replied.

What about the position of dean?

Not really interested in it. Budgets and disciplinary problems. I'd get enough of that from just being head of the History Department.

And when he heard those words, Professor Plunk’s shoulders collapsed. He had expected Wingut to take the dean's position and wanted to become the head of the History Department. He figured that his closest competition was Fitzcaraldo, although he never did see why Wingut liked him so much. Rosnert? No competition. Nobody would work for the smug son of a barking breast feeder.

Well then, I would like to be considered for the job, said Trill in an extra confident tone.

Me too, Plunk heard himself saying. 

What Professor Wingut heard was the tone of incoming comms. He blinked twice to instantiate his private comms viewing. In front of him at a distance of half a mataar, an image of Security Chief Obermann appeared.

Good morning, said Wingut.

Good morning, Chancellor, Obermann replied.

Acting Chancellor, Wingut replied.

Acting Chancellor, we have an emergency, replied Obermann. Obermann was a chubby woman with interesting eyebrows, the kind that look like she had just fallen off a cliff and her eyebrows were still reaching for a ledge to hang on to.

Tell me.

A spacecraft has come out of the Void, she said. And it is possible that other ships may have already come out of the Void. We discovered that the G-48.163-A stability routine for out satellites ran but never sent back the all-clear, so the satellites were offline for a long period of time.

How long? Wingut asked.

Forty-three revs, Centrum Kath Standard.

Shit, Wingut blurted very loudly. Everyone turned to look at him.

You know how people are scared to give bad news? Well, Obermann was not different from most of us in bad news avoidance. And the only way to make up for it was to show progress. Obermann began to speak quickly.

I've started a full line refresh. Every satellite will have a thorough diagnostic check and report within the next fifty tox. We have dispatched a vessel to investigate. But as you know, we don't have any historians left to accompany the pilot and crew. Is there any way you can help us?

Obermann used a very old strategy: when there is a problem and it’s my fault, try and put a demand upon the person you have to tell about the problem. It deflects anger