The Tyman Legacy

By Kamille Zaiter

How do you achieve peace on a continent ravaged by wars based on race and religion? How do you eradicate irrational beliefs and replace them with scientific thinking?

Professor Shyensheya and his team of scientists have a plan. They intend to infect the warring tribal leaders with a genetically engineered virusif only to showcase the power of science.

The professors heinous plot is uncovered by the Tyman Matrix. These highly spiritual scientists have developed sophisticated technology culminating in T3, a unique spying machine.

Will the matrix be able to thwart the professors plot, or will he outwit them?

Either way, science rules.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Apr 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524561383

Kamille Zaiter

The author is a science teacher whose passion is to promote science education, particularly in impoverished societies and those torn apart by conflict. This is the author’s second book. In the first book, “Aliens from the Fifth Space-Time” friendly yet desperate alien entities called Tymans, who have an extra space dimension woven into their fabric, make contact with a group of scientists in order to seek help to fix a mechanical problem they encountered during the sojoum. All ends well and in the process the aliens pass on their cosmic knowledge which reinforces the notion that another afterlife exists beyond this one.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

N ormally, Special Agent Ten—known as Ayten—meets with the president of the United Free Union, the UFS, after he has completed a mission, not before. This time, it was different. Why? What was the significance of the mission?

The 33-year-old agent made his way in silence. The only sounds were the reverberation of footsteps that marched down a brightly lit corridor. He was accompanied by his superior, Major General Dibbs. Dibbs was the second in command at the UFS Special Branch Intelligence Agency. Like all Special Branch agents, both men carried a permit to kill.

Ayten had killed several enemy agents on prior missions. He had blown up bad people who were a threat to the UFS. He would do it again. That was his job. That is what he was trained for. He had also risked his life for his country on numerous occasions. A few years ago, when he was a junior in the ranks of the Secret Service, he threw his body on the line and took the bullet and saved the life of the previous president during an assassination attempt. For that he was promoted to the prestigious Dibbs Unit of Special Branch, which commanded all other UFS intelligence agencies.

As they turned into another corridor, a solemn looking Ayten remarked, I’ve never been down this part of the building before.

There’s always a first time, replied Dibbs.

They stopped in the middle of the corridor and waited. They were now outside a bunker located some fifty metres below Special Branch Headquarters.

Soon a camouflaged door slid open, and they entered into a large foyer, where they were greeted by the chief of staff known as Henry. Several agents, chewing gum and donning shades over stern faces, waited; some had their hands hidden inside their jackets, no doubt grasping a gun, ready to shoot. Although Dibbs was their superior, these no-nonsense agents were always alert and left no room for error or chance.

Henry led them into a spacious rectangular room, which was much dimmer than the corridors outside. In the middle was a large round table with bottles of water lining its centre. Bolted onto one of the walls was a broad TV screen. A large world map, showing the political boundaries of the nations on planet Terra, covered the surface of another wall.

Three men sat next to one another on one side of the table. Each sat behind a laptop. They looked more worried than relaxed. The president, who sat in the middle, was the youngest of the lot. He wore a loose tie, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. The others looked more formal, wearing three-piece suits with UFS flag pins attached to the lapels.

Henry introduced Ayten to the top officials, who stood up, and one by one they shook hands with him. Flanked on one side of the president was the vice president, and flanked on the other side was the foreign minister. Ayten and Dibbs were then seated opposite the president.

Sir, we’ve met twice before, said the president to Ayten, making some small talk.

Yes, Mr President, acknowledged Ayten.

You are one of our best. That’s why we’ve chosen you for this mission.

Ayten smiled. Thank you, Mr President. It’s an honour for me. The proud agent, who sat with arms folded, added, I try to serve my country the best way I can.

We know. The president punched some keys on his laptop. Look at the screen, he said.

A picture of a bald, middle-aged man, with glasses straddled on a huge nose, popped up.

The president said, This is Professor Manport, the geneticist who defected to Scirulz two years ago. As you know, Manport took with him classified research material regarding viral DNA. Our intelligence in Scirulz and other locations inform us that Manport is the chief engineer who is collaborating with other Scirulz scientists on a project with the code name Aunty Mel. We think it is an engineered virus that may be used in biological warfare—a dangerous and deadly weapon indeed. That’s the worrying bit. We have to get on top of it. Sirs, we have to find out what’s going on. We cannot afford to let Scirulz manufacture anything biological because we know the Sanyans will get their hands on it first. This Aunty Mel could turn out to be a gamechanger. It could give our opponents the edge. Scirulz has covered its tracks well. He paused. We suspect it is a virus, but then again it could be a missile. We have to find out. The president then went into deep contemplation.

The silence was finally shattered by the cautious voice of the vice president, who steered the topic back onto Professor Manport. Not only is he a traitor, but we think a murderer as well.

This remark prompted the president to click, and another image was posted onto the screen. It showed the face of a pretty woman.

The president continued with the commentary. This is Manport’s young wife, who allegedly died in a car crash turned inferno with her lover. New evidence has emerged that the pair in the crash were not Manport’s wife or her lover, but body replacements obtained from the morgue. We believe Manport tampered with forensic evidence and falsified records. We believe he has kidnapped them to Scirulz and is using them as guinea pigs. He has plenty of money, courtesy of Scirulz, to organise the whole charade. He must eventually be brought to justice, we know.

The president turned to Ayten. This mission, however, is not to capture Manport and to bring him back to Central City. No, sir. That’s another mission. This mission is to find out about the nature of Aunty Mel. Specifically, we want you to spy on this man, Professor Shyensheya, the president of Scirulz. He is an evolutionary psychologist, and as you know, he is the head of the Scirulz Council. Professor Manport works for him.

The picture on the screen showed the face of a man wearing a sophisticated computerised surgeon’s headgear, with lights, cameras, and a variety of lenses as well as an antenna attached to the rim. Dangling from the rim to one of the ears was an electromagnetic radio device that resembled a cochlear implant component. From a distance, the specialised headgear looked like a combination of an astronaut’s snoopy and helmets worn by tactical response personnel. The serious pose of the man gave the impression he was about to conduct some kind of surgery.

We do not have a photo of him without the headgear, said the president.He’s an unusual character who is hell-bent on spreading his ideology and having his way. Manport may be engineering this Aunty Mel virus, but it is Mr Shyensheya who controls Manport and the rest.

Soon another click was heard.

An image of the Scirulz Council sitting around a table in a room that looked like it was the control room of a space launch centre. All wore white laboratory coats. Shyensheya could be easily discerned from the lot.

There was silence as the president reached for a glass of water and took a sip. Ayten no doubt reflected. How was he supposed to snoop around Scirulz? What was the plan?

Another click was heard, and a new image was posted. An image of a man with a short beard wearing a tribal headdress was shown.

The president continued, "This is Prince Regis, the ruler of West Continta. As you know, his nation is currently not involved in the bitter war between the other Continta nations. So far, he hasn’t taken sides and appears to be playing the role of a peace broker. What you don’t know is that this Aunty Mel project, whatever it is, has been linked to this prince. Our intelligence coming from Continta tells us that the prince is involved with the project. The phrase ‘Aunty Mel’ has been leaked by one of the prince’s confidantes. This confidante boasted that the prince, one day, will become the emperor who will reign over all of Continta because he will have access to Aunty Mel.

Sirs, we know that Prince Regis has organised a meeting with Mr Shyensheya at the Scirulz Trade Centre in three weeks’ time. Why are they meeting? Is it because of Aunty Mel? All the intelligence gathered so far suggests that the meeting is sinister in nature.

The president paused and then took a sip of water before he continued, Our people in Scirulz have also intercepted conversations that indicate there is a connection between Aunty Mel and the upcoming Continta Peace Convention, which the prince is organising. So what is going on? What is the plot that ties up Scirulz with the prince and the convention? We do not think Scirulz are going to conspire with the prince to blow up the convention and jeopardise the peace process. No, sirs. Our people at the UN tell us there is no terrorist attack planned. Besides, Scirulz is well known for speaking out loud against any violence. They’re for promoting peace on Continta. That’s the weird thing. What is Mr Shyensheya up to? He wants to stop the war between the East and the North, but how?

The president got up and started walking up and down the room. Silence pervaded as they reflected on the wars that have besieged the Continta continent for centuries.

The continent was made up of some twenty-four tribal nations, each with a distinct ethnic group. The current war was between North Continta and East Continta. The two nations fought over land rich in resources. In fact, the whole continent was rich in resources, yet the populace as a whole wallowed in poverty. The rich princes who ruled the nations made sure they and their families controlled the wealth and stayed in power. Hardly any benefits trickled down to the rest of the populations.

The lack of formal education was the major factor contributing to the mayhem on the continent. For centuries, the governing princes and their puppets, the religious clerics, shunned all types of education and deliberately kept the populations in the dark. The rules governing the various societies on the continent were all based on religion, myths, and customs, passed down through the generations. It was well known all over planet Terra that the Contintas were a superstitious lot. They believed that the princes were divine and dared not question their behaviour; otherwise, they would be cursed by the spirits.

The weapons of the war were mainly provided by the UFS and the Sanyan Federation, which was another superpower to rival the UFS. The warring factions also bought armaments from the third emerging superpower on the planet, the Forest Republic.

A few years ago, Mayor Shyensheya was ridiculed by world leaders for his idea of a war tax imposed on the ruling princes to solve the conflict on the Continta continent. It was during his first maiden speech at the United Nations Assembly that Shyensheya suggested the tax. Simply, the North and the East nations would still have to pay the amount of money budgeted each year for buying weapons to the weapon-manufacturing superpowers but instead receive nothing in return, not even a bullet. Make them pay the full amount anyway every year. That was the tax. Whether there was war or peace on the continent, they still had to pay. If the warring princes do not agree to the tax, Shyensheya said that the three superpowers should bomb the shit out of those nations, raid them, remove the ruling princes, then colonise them. Those were his words.

Shyensheya pointed out that every year, millions were spent on weaponry and that nobody had won the war that had raged on for years. Every year, thousands of Continta people lose their lives, and millions more get displaced. So he argued to make them pay but don’t deliver weapons. At least lives would be spared. That would be the difference. If violence was in their blood, so let them fight with sticks and stones; that would be much better.

Shyensheya finished the speech suggesting that the superpowers could, if they wanted to, out of their kind hearts, send the Contintas, clean water, food, books, computers, or anything else in return—anything, except weapons.

The sound of the president’s footsteps soon came to a halt, and he said, As for the Contintas, this is the fiftieth peace conference they’re having. It’s for show. We all know nothing of substance will come out of it. We all know the war and the atrocities will continue because they want it. It’s in their culture. They just cannot live in peace because that will upset one kind of spirit or the other. Yes, it’s for show. With regards to Prince Regis, as you know, he will be heavily involved with the agenda on the day of the convention. He will also be acting as the master of ceremony and will supervise the usual rituals that are performed before the talks start. But why is he meeting with Mr Shyensheya beforehand?

The president spoke out his inner thoughts. What’s Mr Shyensheya up to this time? Is it revenge for not accepting his weapons tax? I have to admit, I liked his idea, but I was not in power then. I think we should give it another thought. Us and the other weapon-manufacturing nations getting together and working out a plan, that won’t compromise our industries. I have to agree, the world community has not done enough for the Contintas. Yes, sirs. I admire Mr Shyensheya’s genuine desire to achieve peace.

The president paused then sighed before expressing some more sentiments. I also admire his love of science. I acknowledge the positive impact that science has on society. The truth is every person on this planet relies on science and technology for their well-being, and yet we the politicians and governments do not give it much credit. We do not promote it enough amongst our young and in schools. I am not saying that every nation should end up like the Scirulz Prefecture, but we can learn a lot from that system. Mr Shyensheya has always said that scientific thinking will eventually dominate, and only through the power of science can real peace be enforced. I think there is some truth to that line of thinking.

It was common knowledge that the Scirulz Prefecture was a semi-autonomous state, with limited powers. Although the prefecture island had a representative seat in the United Nations and had consulates in many countries, it had no army. It was protected by the army of South Sanya, which was another state in the great Sanyan Federation. The Sanyan intelligence, which had a foothold in the prefecture, also controlled its wharfs, its airport, and the main bridge that connected the prefecture island to the Sanyan mainland.

The one unique feature of Scirulz that made it stand out from the rest of the nations on planet Terra was its government: they were all scientists. The Scirulz Prefecture was governed by the Scirulz Council. Many scientists and their families from all over the globe were migrating to Scirulz in droves, lured to it not just for the lucrative salaries, but also for prestige.

The Scirulz hegemony had in the past boasted that the Scirulz model of governing, based on logic and reason, would spread across the globe. Their methods of governance were the best, they claimed. Only their methods would and could achieve peace on Terra, which was a planet riddled with several conflicts raging on several continents, in particular Continta.

In a nutshell, all elected members of parliament must have a scientific profession or a scientific background. This, of course, put it at odds with the rest of the nations on Terra who were governed either by political parties, big corporations, religious clerics, military personnel, tribal warlords, or monarchs. Nor were any of the inhabitants openly religious. Spiritual people with scientific knowledge, but not religious freaks, were encouraged to work and reside in the model state.

Two hundred years ago, the island’s popular mayor at the time—a Sanyan physicist—had negotiated with the Sanyan Federation government for a prefecture to be governed by scientists only and not by the politicians and clergy, as in most other states. It was meant to be one huge experiment.

That mayor argued that such an independent district ruled by scientists would show better prosperity, more security, less violence, and more opportunities. There would be no more corrupt rulers, and all inhabitants would be truly equal. The mayor promised that if given the chance, the prefecture would be a model for the rest of the world. It was an experiment that had to be undertaken.

The mayor’s thoughts were well publicised at the time—that Scientists will eventually control and rule the whole globe. He pointed out that it was science that kept a leader healthy to rule and invented the weapons that kept that leader in power. So if a leader needs science to put him in power and science to keep him in power, then why not directly elect a scientist as the supreme leader?

The wishes of the mayor were eventually granted by the savvy and secular leaders of the democratic Sanyan Federation government. They must have realised the power of such a scientific congregation and the benefits it would bring to the federation. More freedom meant more research, which meant more innovations, which meant more power, which meant more money, which meant more jobs, which meant more trade and hence more prosperity. In the end, the scientists would have to pay a lot of tax to the federation. Yes, it was a smart move by the federation to grant semi-independence to the island and freedom to conduct their political, social, foreign, and economical affairs as the scientists saw fit.

This first mayor, with the full support of his electorate, changed the name of the island from Blue Bay to Scirulz—the word Scirulz coming from science rules. The mayors that followed continued in his footsteps. With each subsequent mayor, the prefecture became more independent from the mainland. As years went by, the Scirulz mayors introduced legislations that meant that in order to work and live in Scirulz, you had to be a scientist or a person working for a scientific firm or any other field related to science.

One hundred years ago, the United Nations recognised the prefecture as a unique independent state. Since then, the island state had become a centre for anything scientific. Technologies sprung overnight. As time went by, the prefecture flourished, and its inhabitants became wealthy. Trade with the rest of the nations thrived. All industries on Scirulz were based on science and education. The prefecture manufactured anything from pencils to laptops to satellites to guided missile systems. Anything of a scientific nature was embraced and manufactured in Scirulz. All major agricultural, industrial, and medical research was based there as well. It was the hub for technology and the source of the latest innovations on the planet.

The idea that Scirulz, whose inhabitants numbered over fifty million, was the most peaceful region on the globe was supported by statistics. For years, there had been no criminal activity of any sort. It was the closest you could get to a utopian state.

The sound of the president clearing his throat snapped everyone from their thoughts. He turned to Ayten. Your mission, Agent Ten, is to spy on that meeting at the Scirulz Trade Centre between Prince Regis and Mr Shyensheya. We want to listen in on that meeting. The exact time and place of the meeting will be given to you and explained to you by Major Dibbs in due course. Our intelligence suggests that we are in no position yet to raid the secret laboratories where Manport is based. We will however start planning for it, but first things first.

The president paused, then proceeded to fill his glass with water.

Ayten was in deep reflection. It would be easy getting into Scirulz, whether by air, land, or water. But how would he get into the trade centre? What disguise would he be in? Not only that, but how would the espionage occur? Break in at dark and install cameras or operate Bat-Drone? Bat-Drone was the Special Branch drone used for night missions. It was equipped with a video recorder and a variety of filters, lenses, and infrared sensors. He had used this magnificent flying machine several times before and had managed to position it in the appropriate places, but would the drone on its own be enough this time?

The president continued with a tone that oozed with pride and confidence. Our Tyman Matrix Group has contrived a new spying machine nicknamedT3. It is a vehicle that can be made invisible. That’s right. It can blink out of existence, and it can disappear from view. It and whoever is inside it will become invisible to the eye. T3 is the latest arsenal in our surveillance technology.

Ayten looked stunned.

The president continued, T3’s main component is made from a newly developed fabric called Triple-F. This fabric will give us the technological edge over all other nations. Because of it, we will become the pioneers of future innovations. The technologies responsible for this Triple-F fabric will ensure our dominance over our rivals and render them envious and subdued. Yes, sirs, they will cringe. Yes, sirs, Scirulz is no match to our Tyman Matrix. Whatever they’ve invented, we can do better. We are steps ahead.

The president chuckled and swayed his head in joy before he turned to Ayten. Agent Ten, you will use this vehicle for the mission. Yes, sir, T3 will get you to the prefecture undetected, and you will be able to witness the meeting undetected. In a few minutes, you will inspect our fabulous T3. After this meeting, you will visit the Tyman Matrix compound, where T3 was manufactured. You will get to inspect it, and in a few days, you will learn how to drive it.

Ayten’s eyes widened. He reflected on the obvious: he imagined himself in the vehicle undetected by others, yet he could still see and hear everything around him. A zillion things would have zoomed through his head. Most would be empowering, but a few would have cast doubt on the ethics of the invention. His face said it all. Despite his commitment to follow the instructions and his eagerness to succeed in the mission no matter what, he could not completely repress the morality that had surfaced from his conscience. Sure, T3 was good in government hands for special spying purposes, but what if the technology got into the wrong hands? What about the right for privacy and individual rights? People could be easily watched and dissected like insects in a big social lab. Who will spy on whom? Will there come a time when he will have to spy on his teammates? Or will he ever be the object? Does the matrix watch the president?

Will this technology become available to the public? No doubt with time it will, just like all the other technologies and innovations before it. This one, though, had the power to dislodge the whole of society from its roots and restructure it according to new norms that would cater for this new impingement. He had many questions, but they would all have to wait. First, he had to lay his eyes on this wondrous contrivance.

The president continued, My instructions to you are that you must follow the chain of command as usual. You will answer to Major Dibbs and follow his instructions. You will also answer to the director of Special Branch and to any of the Tyman Matrix personnel. The director and his Tyman Matrix team will introduce you to T3 and the technology behind it. They own the copyrights. You will safeguard that technology and protect it and stop it from getting into the wrong hands. T3 cannot and must not fall into the wrong hands. Blow it up if you have to but don’t let it fall in the wrong hands, especially the hands of Scirulz or any of the Sanyan Federation states. You must protect it with your life, sir.

The president paused, took a deep breath, then got up and started walking around in the room, with his eyes closed all the time. Finally, he asked, Are you willing to do that, Agent Ten? Are you willing to die for your country?

Without hesitation, Ayten stood up straight and replied, Yes, Mr President. The commando-trained soldier looked fearless.

Thank you, sir, said the president. This meeting is over.

The meeting concluded with Ayten shaking hands with all those present.

Ayten followed Major Dibbs through several corridors and then down another flight of stairs before stepping into another corridor. They walked halfway down and stopped. Again there was a camouflaged entrance somewhere in the wall. They’ll open the door when they’re ready, said Dibbs. It won’t be long.

Ayten reflected on the Tyman Matrix. Whatever he knew about it came from Dibbs and the hush-hush discussions with other colleagues over the years. He knew the group was made up of the director of Special Branch known as One and a handful of unique but mysterious scientists who were considered to be the best in the country. He had not met the director before, nor had he come into contact with any of the scientists that were responsible for the production of the marvellous technologies utilised by Special Branch. For previous missions, Ayten was introduced to the gadgets by Dibbs at Special Branch laboratories in another section of the building. This was his first visit to the matrix laboratories.

It was rumoured that the senior scientists that make up the matrix, along with the director and a few other people (most still alive), had come into contact with alien entities about thirty years ago. These aliens called themselves Tymans, standing for Time Man. The rumour, which was spread only amongst Special Branch agents, was that these aliens came from another space-time dimension to planet Terra to recharge their battery. During the sojourn, the aliens encountered difficulties and requested help. The alien problem was eventually solved with the help of those scientists who are now referred to as the Tyman Matrix Group.

Ayten finally asked Dibbs, who was also in deep contemplation, Major, is the rumour true?

Dibbs puffed. Look, I wasn’t there. It maybe just a rumour, but I believe it. I want it to be true. Whether you believe it or not, I can tell you that the matrix technology is based on the alien technology which they witnessed. You will soon meet them and form your own opinion.

Ayten looked intrigued. From which space-time did they come?

The fifth, four space fields and one time field in every existence. Ours is the fourth, three space fields and one time field in every existence.

Ayten remained quiet. Ever since he had heard of the rumour, he was sceptical. There were other rumours too: The matrix conducted social experiments, not just physical. They played with people’s minds to unravel how the mind works—all in the name of science. In many ways, they were as fanatic about science as the Scirulz Council, but theirs was more doctrinaire. Their science had a spiritual flavour to