Chapter 1.2

The announcer glanced behind him. He received a small smile, and a nod of the head, so he stepped to the podium.

“People of Earth. It brings me pleasure to introduce to you, the first president of the New Earth Republic, Fredrik Freeman!”

The announcer’s voice echoed across the courtyard. They were surrounded by the government buildings, and the day was magnificent. Freeman stepped up to the podium and shook the announcer’s hand. It was an ancient gesture, as old as time itself, it seemed.

The announcer stepped off the platform, and Freeman began to speak.

Elsewhere in the world, a man sat looking at a multimedia screen He made no move to turn off the screen, but his face became stone at the sight of his brother as the new ruler.

“Hello my fellow Terrans. I use that term because in ancient times, the word Terra was used as a name for our planet. I have studied our ancient times, as you all know, and have helped set up our government in a way that seemed to represent many countries in our past.”

Willem Wallace shook his head. The bastard took what was his, and now claimed to be helping it. His face twitched as the irony of his brother becoming the ruler of his; Willem’s domain was pathetic.

"Under this new form of government, you have the privilege, no, the RIGHT to be your own person. You will be able to do whatever you wish as long as you are not infringing upon the rights of others. Each of us has the duty to make sure our world never has something like Willem Wallace happen to it again. We are free of him! We will not have him infringing on our rights… Our very lives, again!”

In his cell, Willem smiled. There was a guard who had been watching, and he noted when the former ruler smiled, but there was nothing odd in that. Was there?

“Thus, I have changed my name to show who we are now! We are not slaves! We are not owned! We are free men, and women! We are free people! May name now signifies that! I am no longer Fredrik Wallace. I am Fredrik Free Man!”

“Nice speech, brother.”

Willem Wallace sat looking at his brother Fredrik. In his time, Fredrik had seen just as many movies from the ancient times as his brother had. He remembered so many that had a character like Willem. Well, perhaps not as bad, but still insane. Willem, however, showed no emotion on his face. He neither smiled nor frowned. He appeared… apathetic. That, however proved wrong from his words.

“You tried to pass of your taking what was mine to others. I owned the Earth, and you took it from me. I had hoped that you were gone forever. You always took what was rightfully mine when I was a child. Now you do the same thing.”

Fredrik cocked his head at his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

“Everytime I had something that I could call my own, you took it.”

It seemed ridiculous to try to argue this point with Willem. They had been over it and over it many times, and Willem had never been able to give any form of example of his accusations. Frankly, Fredrik had no idea where his brother got his ideas. They knew each other, obviously, but when Willem was born, Fredrik had just completed his apprenticeship as an archaeologist. It made no sense.

Fredrik stood and turned to leave. Now, Willem was smiling.

“You think You’re through with me, Freddie?”

The elder turned back. He hated the diminutive name, but he let that pass. “Yes, Willem. I do.”

The younger laughed. “You’ll never be through with my legacy, Brother.” The last word was spat out, like he was trying to get the last taste of vomit out of his mouth.

“That’s where you’re wrong, little brother. You can do no more damage in here. This is where you will stay for eternity. There is nothing that can hurt you in here. There is no danger from you at all, Willy.” Well… you have to get a bit of a dig in there, right? He watched Willem flinch at the name. “You don’t even have anything to relieve you of your life to get rid of your boredom.”

“Does this give you pleasure?”

“Not really. I would have much preferred that you hadn’t done what you did. I would have preferred a brother I could be proud of, rather than one I had to build a prison for.”

“Ah. So you did take what was mine, didn’t you? You took my very life.”

Fredrik shook his head. “You gave it to me.” He turned and walked out.

Things on Earth did get better. The next two hundred years were wonderful. Although Wallace was alive, he caused no problem to anyone. No one had any desire to see him, so he lived his own completely uneventful life. He was able to watch what was happening outside. It seemed as he watched his screen that he was waiting for something. Then one day, it happened.

He was watching something extremely boring. What it was, was not important. Instead, he saw what was on his screen flicker, then disappear.

He found himself looking at his own image from the time of the launch of the N21 space station from Earth’s orbit. “Welcome my pets,” he said. “We are going to join the passengers of N21 as they zoom away from us. We will be entertained. You will enjoy this.” It was more an order than anything else.

A picture of the inside of a space station came into being. “A fancy title flashed across the screen that said, “Live on N21!” He heard his own voice come from around those milling about on the station. “HELLO CHILDREN. I’M BORED. LET’S PLAY!” The people screamed in pain at his voice. It had been so loud they had been deafened.

The screen shifted again, and showed the same scene, and his voice sounded again. “SO COMPLACENT!” The light on the station started strobing. He watched as someone went to reach into the wall for some reason.

“Not a good idea,” he murmured. The man started to smoke as he became pile of charcoal. Wallace laughed hysterically as his voice stated, “THAT IS NOT ALLOWED.”

A moment later, the doors to the different bays slammed shut. The screen showed a woman cut completely in two.

“Wow! This is incredible television!” he exclaimed.

The view shifted to another camera aboard the station, and it zoomed into the panel showing what was happening inside that particular bay. In the center was a readout showing the air pressure. He held his breath as it reached zero, then he could hear the faint sound the the outer doors opening. The view switched to inside the bay, then back to the panel. A few moments later, the doors closed, and the pressure started to rise.

In the president’s office there was no noise at all. Everyone was staring at a screen, absolutely horrified. It had gone dark, but they couldn’t look away. Finally, Freeman asked, “Do we know where this came from?”

“Not yet, Sir, but we will.” A man hurried over to a comm panel and called the company that provided the regular programming. He spoke to them at length, the turned to the president. “They are going to aim their transmitters at the source. We can transmit something to them.”

“They’re still alive,” Freeman said to himself. “Incredible!”

It was some time before things were set for Earth to talk to N21. Freeman had talked with many people in the interim. He wanted to make sure what had happened there.

Astronomers talked about differences in the time frame. N21 had been gone for five hundred years, but the people would have only experienced a short time by comparison. There was no way to know exactly how long had passed for them, but it couldn’t have been long. The signal had been received by an extremely low level frequency. It had been received for almost a year before the computers were able to make sense of it.

Freeman spoke with the security department of Earth. They were what took the place of police, military… even security guards in shopping malls. They were all under the umbrella of the security department. They showed him videos taken of Wallace while he watched the broadcast from N21. It was appalling. At the end of it, he shut off the screen and sat back. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself. “Don’t get to comfortable, children.”

“Why did he say that?” Freeman wondered.

The director of the security department, Paul Robson, looked away from the screen. “I’m guessing, Sir, that there is more to happen.”

“He’s not done with them?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Robson said, “but you know him much better than anyone else does.”

Freeman looked at him ruefully. “I suppose you're right; I know him better than anyone, but I don’t understand him.”

Robson gave a small snort. “No one does, Fred.”

Freeman nodded. Very few people called him Fred, but Robson had travelled with him as security when he disappeared from his brother. They had spent ten thousand years working together.

Finally, Freeman turned to his friend. “We need to know what Willem has planned.”

It was not pretty at all. Robson found some archives of recordings made in Willem’s castle. When people arrived to be slaves, they were separated into different classes. The young men were taken to a wing of the palace that looked suspiciously like a harem. As they passed through the entrance to the wing, something happened. It was hard to place, but it was definite. A few moments later, a shift in each man started to happen. Their bodies took on female characteristics. Each one shed himself of whatever clothes they arrived in, and these were gathered up and disposed of.

Then, Freeman saw something he never wished to again. It seemed as though each young man recognized what had happened to him. They all looked shocked. Many started to cry. And then, as one, they stopped. Their faces took on smile, like they were perfectly happy being where they were.

Willem stepped into view. He went up and down the rows of shemales his nanites had made, saying whether they would be his to play with, or domestic help. He picked only the most beautiful to be his personal slaves. The rest were sent somewhere else. One of the personal slaves was dressed better than all the rest, and put in a room of her own.

After Robson and Freeman had seen the recordings, they brought in a man who had been from one of the villages abducted, but had been in a neighboring city when it happened. His son had not been well that day, and had stayed home. The man watched the recording and gasped when he saw it.

“What is it?” Robson asked. He knew what the man had seen. He had seen a picture of the man’s son.

“My son,” the man almost sobbed. “He was one that was changed. He was the one who was given the special place.”

Robson nodded as the man went on. “I want that bastard. I want to kill him.”

“I’m not surprised,” Robson said. “I would too, but it needs done slowly. We need information so the people on N21 are not hurt again.”

“I don’t know how to do it slowly,” the old man said.

Robson held out some ancient books which he carefully handed to the man. “You have trained under my men for some time. This will train you to extract information from Willem Wallace. Study these, practice. Soon, you will get your opportunity.”

The old man left, and Freeman stood, walking up to his friend. “Is that really necessary?” he asked.

“Fred, you know Willem won’t give up that information easily. You told me once that one of the first uses for nanites was to stop shock in an injured person. Anything we do to get information will have to be extreme. You know this.”

“Yes, I do, but it seems that we are stooping to his level.”

“Do you want me to stop,” Paul asked.

Fredrik looked at him for a long time as he considered. Finally, he shook his head in the negative. He didn’t like it in the least, but It had to be done.