Trool’s Rules

FIRST PUBLISHED IN 2015, Trool’s Rules is a very, very dark comedy about the near-annihilation of the human race in a terrible pandemic so, in 2021 it might be considered, by those with a sense-of-humour bypass, to be in very poor taste!

The few dozen survivors congregate in the English Lake District and are not prospering until five million super-intelligent aliens arrive on the planet. The aliens provide support – but is it altruism or are the humans to be inmates of a zoo?

Trool’s Rules is written for adults and contains more than its fair share of sex and violence. Recommended for proper grown-ups only!

No one wants to make money out of the pandemic, so I’m placing the whole of the novel here. Please read and enjoy – free of charge – but respect the copyright!

Second Edition (Revised)

The author has asserted their moral right under the

as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

TROOL'S RULES

The Prologue

The mind of the illustrious Trebian thinker, Arfur Trool, passed into The Forevvan on the first day of a year which would eventually become known as Year Zero.

Arfur’s mind would be happy sharing thoughts with millions of other minds high in the atmosphere of his beloved planet for thousands of years to come.

Although time had little meaning within The Forevvan, changing the dates to negative numbers in B.A.T. [Before Arfur Trool] Time did cause some consternation. Spending eternity wallowing in nostalgia relies, to a certain extent, on getting your dates right.

Down below, the five million inhabitants of the planet were thrilled to receive Arfur’s ‘Rules’.

Peace, happiness and relaxation were to be the order of the day!

Last Will & Testament

I, Arfur Trool, Mindminder Class Ten, Guardian of the Citizens of Treb and the greatest intellect The Universe will ever know*, do hereby leave these Rules to my people as my last Will and Testament.

1. All Trebians shall acknowledge the force known as The Forevvan. This I have discovered and I give you my oath of its veracity. Trebians shall not fear death. Superb intellects do not die. The minds of loyal Trebians shall pass into the state of grace called ‘The Forevvan’ and will remain there forever. The infinite intellect of The Forevvan will protect the faithful of the most advanced race in The Universe [that’s us] against all evils.

2. Faith is the privilege of the individual and must never be imposed. Avoid organised religion.

3. Do not worship me or even keep images of me. [True perfection cannot be imitated.]

4. Trebians shall treat other Trebians with the level of kindness and respect each would wish to receive [There is flexibility in the treatment of other species – see Rule 8].

5. Trebians think, therefore they are. Automatons shall do the work. The pursuit of beauty and perfection in all things shall be the goal of every Trebian.

6. The purity of the race is vital. The quality of breeding shall be strictly controlled. Sexual intercourse with carefully selected partners shall be tolerated, but is strictly to be for amusement only. [Mindsex is healthy, though. You can have as much as you like.]

7. Selfishness: [a] Money should be merely a measure of worth but it has become a symbol of greed. Get rid of it! [b] Be selective in what you covet. [c] Do not bear false witness on Treb – we Mindminders know what you’re thinking.

8. All species of The Universe shall be assessed against the Trool Scale of Worth. Their society should be awarded points for:

general well-being of the population.
scientific & technical innovation
cultural & artistic excellence
lack of aggression towards other species [particularly ours].

Assuming they are not dangerous, species scoring 45 points or more shall be treated with the utmost respect and no harm shall come to them.

Any species scoring 44 points or less: [a] if they pose a major threat to Treb or the Trebian people – shall be eradicated without remorse; [b] if they pose a minor threat to Treb or the Trebian people – they may be eradicated, but with a little remorse. [N.B. We Trebians shall be non-violent, but there’s nothing wrong with encouraging other species to get involved in a bit of casual self-destruction now and then.]

9. The people shall elect a Council of Equals to administer my Rules. To achieve perfect balance, the Council shall constitute three groups: The Scientists, The Artists and The Useful. There shall be no politicians – not now, not ever.

10. Don’t get too cocky, I might be back!

* Arfur was to be proved wrong about this bit! Although he was undoubtedly a phenomenal intellect, he shouldn’t necessarily be regarded as either modest or liberal.

All things considered, things were looking very good for the future of the Trebian race.

Heathrow Airport

Jonathan T. Baker and his new wife, Hannah, had thoroughly enjoyed their honeymoon in Great Britain but both were not sorry to be on their way home. The British Prime Minister had unexpectedly made some alarming policy changes; stories of violent unrest were on all the TV channels.

The Departures Hall in Terminal 5 was busy but it seemed that only Jonathan noticed the elderly man staggering between the queues. The guy looked ill and confused.

The young New Yorker approached the man and said, “Hey fella, you OK? Can I help?”

The man coughed and looked up at him rather blankly. After a few moments he brushed off Jonathan’s supporting arm and replied, “No one can help me now.” He disappeared into the crowd.

Jonathan’s attempt at a random act of kindness would be responsible for the deaths of 300 million innocent Americans – and quite a few guilty ones.

All things considered, things were looking very bad for the future of the human race.

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Powerfully and accurately thrown, the house brick shattered the bedroom window and proceeded to crack the skull of the hysterical housekeeper, killing her instantly. Continuing the journey of destruction, it fell onto the back of the snorting man’s head, rendering him unconscious. Lying beneath the man, a small and extraordinarily beautiful young woman was looking decidedly anxious. She had promised to be home by midnight and, thanks to the newly formed hole in the double glazing, she could clearly hear Big Ben begin its chimes.

But this is no Cinderella story. Trebians have little understanding of the fairy tale.

‘Oh well, mission accomplished – sort of!’ She had gone to a great deal of trouble to experience proper sex with a real expert and, apart from the timing, both orgasms had been intriguing. Even though the unconscious Liam was still inside her, she could delay no further and so braced herself against the imminent pain and thought loudly, ‘Beam me up, Mummy.’

High up in stationary orbit, the Mind/matic Interface [it so, so hated being called ‘Mummy’] on Trebian Explorer GravityMaster 74 speedily obeyed.

Less than a minute later, the bodyguard charged into the room, smoking gun in hand, and surveyed the scene. Three things were wrong: the broken window, the bloodstained brick on the bed and the very dead Betsy on the floor. However, his first thought was, ‘Where the hell has the boss gone?’ closely followed by, ‘and the tart?’ The two sets of clothes heaped on the chaise-longue gave no clue.

He searched the bedroom and en-suite; there was no way anyone could have passed him as he came up the stairs. Jessop did what he always did when perplexed – he went down to Betsy’s room, put on the TV and made himself a cuppa.

Never in the history of reproduction, had a single sperm travelled so far to meet its destiny as that night’s little miracle [3,741.82 miles to be precise].

On the cold, hard floor of G74’s docking bay, Si Trool was fighting the agony of naked teleportation. She was also struggling to remove the large, inert object on top and inside her. Eventually, the pain won and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

But the brain of a Trebian Mindminder never really sleeps and it registered instantly when the unprecedented fertilisation occurred. Si’s eyes flashed open wide and she said out loud, “Bugger! How on Earth could the ‘Chosen One’ have got into this mess?”

Fourteen days previously…

Far away, on Si Trool’s home planet, sixteen of the most brilliant minds in The Universe were summoned to The Hall of Equals by Dec Mot, the Most Equal Chairperson, and one of only three living Mindminder 9s. The response, as usual, was poor and few actually arrived in person at this, the most beautiful of buildings, preferring instead to communicate by thought transfer from wherever they’d rather be.

Mit Han, the Space Exploration Manager, was actually in GravityMaster 15 viewing a collapsing star at the centre of a very distant and extraordinarily beautiful [but not for long] solar system.

The Most Equal was not fazed – presence in body or mind made no difference to such a skilled Mindminder. He was much more concerned by the insidious intrusion of so-called culture from that damned planet known as Earth.

There were no apologies for absence. No Trebian was ever ill and, of course, travel difficulties didn’t apply. There was no rush hour on Treb – the word ‘rush’ was seldom used.

There were no minutes of the last meeting. Everyone could remember exactly what was decided in the previous dozen or so meetings.

There were no matters arising. If the Council of Equals decided something was going to happen, then it did – and right on time.

Dec Mot called the meeting to order and sent a stream of thoughts directly into the minds of his colleagues. ‘Delegates of Equals, we have known for several years that the tremendous efforts of our esteemed colleagues in the departments of The Science Overlooker, The Meteorologist and The Thermal Engineer can no longer hold the cooling of our planet at bay. It is time to make the fateful decision that will affect the quality of life of the Trebian people for a million generations. This very day we must authorise a transfer to a new homeland. I urge you all to consider the matter most earnestly. You have already seen the reports from the Pilot/Mindminders orbiting our twelve shortlisted planets. I propose that we examine, in depth, all twelve reports then each of us state our opinions on their viability.’

‘Bugger that’, stated Ari Bain, representative of The Fraternity of Family Poets, ‘we sent our brightest and best Mindminder to that Earth place – that’s because we’ve always considered that the favourite – as you all know, it’s a totally awesome world occupied by pseudo-human pillocks who’ll probably cock it up even more if we don’t sort them out, so let’s discuss that option first. I haven’t got time to piss about.’ He was a true artist – and had absorbed the beauty of the English language more than any other Trebian.

There were nods of agreement; several others had mindsex appointments looming, too. To Ari Bain, mindsex was merely a substitute for the real thing, so he researched and wrote poetry about physical sex constantly. Although approaching seventy-eight years old, in the prime of life for a Trebian, he was still a virgin.

The Director of Trebian MindVisionCorporation began, ‘The reports from Si Trool are most illuminating, as you would expect from the youngest Trebian ever to achieve Mindminder 8 status – she’s a star.’

‘The quality of her reports and recommendations lead me to believe that she might become the new prophet we’ve been waiting for,’ interrupted Dr. Din Doc, representative of the Medic Board of Treb. There were audible gasps from those around the table. He continued, ‘It is my belief that she will achieve Mindminder 9 status soon and, in a few years’ time, she’ll be challenging for Arfur Trool’s – bless his intellect – [always wise to say that – there’s a good chance he might be listening] Mindminder 10 mantle.’ More gasps, this time accompanied by open mouths. Even the Architect, his mind full of a thousand designs for buildings on whichever planet would become New Treb, briefly looked interested. However, Si Trool was not a building and therefore of no real concern to him.

‘That’s because you’ve never met her! She was a complete pain in the neck at Pilot School – gifted though,’ offered Mit Han from afar.

‘Bloody good looking, too,’ added the Poet.

‘We haven’t had a Mindminder 10 since Arfur – bless his intellect – passed on and it’s high time we had another direct conduit to The Forevvan – she’s bright enough and she is, of course, a direct descendant of Arfur – bless his intellect.’ This thought was from the Automaton Maintenance Chief [She was a thousand miles away, supervising the repair of the Mind/matic Interface on an Automaton Repairer/Repairer Mk6 that was five hundred years old – and what she was really thinking was, ‘this modern stuff is pathetic, give me the build quality of the old stuff any day’.]

Trebians are big on nostalgia.

Conversation about Mindminder 10 status was always controversial and, on this occasion it caused a general hubbub.

The Most Equal surveyed the minds of The Council. His indignation that Earth human ‘culture’ had begun to influence even these most distinguished Trebian intellects was barely contained and his thoughts were produced almost at shouting level. ‘Delegates, delegates, we must have order – we are here to decide the future of our race. I cannot over emphasise the importance of the decision we are about to make! We must keep on task, so stop playing Spider bloody Solitaire and concentrate! Ooops, sorry!’ It was a rare lapse of etiquette from the great Dec Mot, Earth human language was catching on fast.

Several guilty expressions appeared around the virtual table.

‘OK, OK, we all know there are only three serious contenders, don’t we, so I propose we just talk about those,’ said the Music Fraternity delegate.

‘I second that, let’s get on with it!’ offered the Poet. Murmurs of agreement were heard across space.

He was relieved because the Most Equal hadn’t intercepted the image of a Playboy centrefold that kept emerging from his sub-conscious; his knowledge of Earth literature was second to none.

‘Then allow me to sum up the pro and cons of the obvious three. Feel free to interrupt if you wish.’ Dec Mot sent the delegates a powerfully poisonous ‘don’t you dare’ thought.

He was momentarily distracted by a blurred image of an orange shape with an alarming quantity of yellow on top. ‘Female? How strange!’ he thought.

Though slightly puzzled, he continued, ‘Difold 6 is an extraordinary planet, with no clearly defined dominant species. In fact, it is one of the best examples of inter-species co-operation and parallel living that we have encountered. They are culturally weak and scientifically naive but have, nevertheless, a fascinating blend of intriguing races, only occasionally tainted by their tendency for war, massacre and attempted genocide. For their width of peoples and rich history, The Independent Assessors awarded the planet sixty-seven points on The Scale of Worth.

Strafic Ben, as you know, is home to the most intellectual insect race in our known Universe – which, of course, is all of it. Their scientific knowledge and cultural advancement appear to be only ten thousand generations behind our own. They treat other species on their planet with respect and they are exceptionally courteous to visitors from many worlds. They pose no threat to us and are so civilised that they scored eighty-six points on The Scale of Worth. They would have scored more if the females didn’t eat their partners after mating.

The humans of Earth, as you hinted, were awarded by far the lowest score on the Scale of Worth – only forty-six points. This score is unfortunate because, as you are all painfully aware, it is just above the threshold; therefore we cannot biologically and painlessly annihilate this species.’

There were murmurs of ‘shame’ from around the virtual table.

‘I calculate that Earth will be unable to support life in 8.23 years if we just leave them to it,’ thought the ECO Depollution Representative.

‘Our years or theirs?’ asked the Artist.

‘Ours, of course!’

’61.0967 of theirs,’ thought the Mathematician, abstractedly.

‘That’s far too long. Our exodus needs to begin in 1.216 of our years,’ added the Thermal Engineer.

‘Oh come on,’ interrupted Ari Bain, ‘can’t we find a way just to put them out of their misery right away?’

‘You are all aware Trool’s Rules state that the Scale of Worth cannot and must not be altered even if it could harm the future of the Trebians,’ continued The Most Equal.

Trebians are big on Trool’s Rules.

‘Shit!’ said the delegate from the United Farming Front, accurately reflecting the views of most of the others, ‘There are 2,117 planets occupied by human types and these Earth humans are by far the worst of the lot anywhere in The Universe; how did such a shit, shit world manage to score forty-six points?’ [Early in his career he had accidentally been exposed to some shit, and was still haunted by the image.]

‘They certainly are a weird lot with some disgusting habits. They have physical sex all over the place, actually give birth and then bring up their own children… from babies!’ exclaimed the Reproduction Coordinator.

‘Urghhh! Can you imagine it? Babies!’ added the Space Exploration Manager.

‘Shit!’ thought the delegate from the United Farming Front again. It was the only thing he knew about babies.

‘How can a race that exhibits such appalling behaviour so closely resemble the beautiful citizens of Treb – that’s what I don’t understand?’ muttered the Meteorologist. She was one of the sharpest minds around the virtual table and also an exceptionally attractive female, therefore of great interest to the Poet. Unfortunately for him, she was far more interested in organising cloud movements that organising a liaison to satisfy his very un-Trebian urges.

All the delegates began thinking at once, disgusting Earth human qualities being the main topic.

‘Time to restore order, don’t you think, Most Equal?’ thought Ari Bain, still puzzling over the secret code 36-23-35. The Mathematician, also a passable Mindminder, intercepted Ari’s consternation and tried to help. Despite being better at sums than anyone else in The Universe, he was quite unable to decipher the meaning of the sequence.

The Most Equal reached the end of his limited patience. ‘Exactly! Here is the Earth report, from Si Trool, as supplied to the Independent Assessors. You will note that it was the points scored latterly as a result of MVC’s activities that have lifted the Earth humans up beyond the point of straightforward eradication!’ he yelled, sending yet more poisonous thoughts into the head of MVC’s Director.

‘Come on, you’ve all got to admit that the lives of these idiots makes great MindVision! Maybe if our own intellectual entertainers weren’t quite so… intellectual?’ said the Director in a pathetic attempt to divert the waves of irritation coming his way. It didn’t work. The Poet, the Artist and the Musician began to plan for revenge.

‘It’s just as well that you allowed me to send young Si Trool to do the reconnaissance of Earth. She has evaluated that the Earth humans are perpetually on the brink of self-annihilation and has already submitted some useful suggestions to shorten our estimates,’ added the Space Exploration Manager, a little smugly.

‘Is Trool convinced that she can manipulate these Earth humans into destroying themselves in less than a year?’ asked Dr. Doc.

‘She is,’ said the SEM with complete confidence.

‘No nuclear weapons should be used – that nuclear war on Cazdoc was heartbreaking. It took me 4.53 days to clear up the mess! Three of my best automatons were ruined. I don’t want that kind of job again – and the smell was awful,’ interjected the ECO Depollution Representative, sourly.

Trebians are big on cleanliness.

‘Is Si Trool available on the Thought Beam Amplifier?’ asked the Poet, sensing an opportunity to close the meeting early.

‘I’ll call her up now,’ said the Most Equal. Using the Council Chamber’s Mind/matic Interface, the Thought Beam Amplifier was adjusted to include signals from the distant GravityMaster 74. ‘Are you present, Si Trool?’

As Si’s thoughts entered the minds of the Council, all the males around the virtual table became a little more interested in the meeting. Even in the land of perfect Trebians, the famous Si Trool was not only an exceptional intellect; she was regarded as a female of intense beauty. The Poet was particularly alert, Charlaine from Wisconsin totally forgotten.

‘Si Trool,’ began the Most Equal,’ we are close to a decision. Your Earth is likely to be selected for our relocation but before we make our final decision, some questions. Did you catch the comments of ECO-Dep? Do you seriously believe that you can cause these Earth humans to destroy themselves in less than 7.3 of their years without disastrously damaging their beautiful planet? Can you protect the other species, some of which may be of use to us – subject, of course, to the requirements of the United Farming Front? [‘Oh, shit!’ was heard in the background.] Let me caution you, Trool, before you answer, to consider the Rules of your illustrious ancestor, Arfur Trool – bless his intellect – you cannot, in any way, call upon physical force to bring this about. Mind manipulation will be your only weapon.’ There was a pause as the Thought Beam Amplifier relayed the message across a million light years of space.

0.00013 days later came Si Trool’s concise response. ‘Yes, yes and yes,’ was all she thought, before instructing her MMI to disconnect the Thought Beam Amplifier. No further explanation was required or given and Si had little patience with the Council of Equals, finding them pedantic and slow-witted – everything is relative.

‘Then, Council, it is time to make our decision.’ All those physically present looked towards The Forevvan-dicator. The small black box, generating its perpetual soft hum, hovered just above its elegant glass plinth in the centre of The Hall of Equals. It was believed to date from the days of Arfur Trool – bless his intellect. The Council trusted it as their last, tenuous link to The Forevvan, although these days it almost always responded with an amber light.

Beneath each light a small brass plaque gave its meaning. The amber light sign said ‘Make Your Own Minds Up’. Next to the green light was written ‘Get On With It’ and accompanying the red light was the cryptic message ‘Don’t Be Silly’. [In a previous generation, a delegate of the Science Fraternity had declared his intention to dismantle the box to discover its secrets. As he put his hand upon it, the red light glowed with an aggression that terrified everyone present. No one had touched The Forevvan-dicator since.]

Dec Mot stared at the box and issued the required formal request, ‘Shall we take The Earth? Forevvan help us!’ After a few moments the amber light glowed.

‘So Equals, the decision is ours. Do we have an agreement? Shall we set in motion the process of moving our great people to this Earth?’

A unanimous ‘aye’ was recorded.

It’s hard to believe that this bunch of bizarre characters is actually the most powerful group of beings anywhere in The Universe. Sad but true – if you happen to be Earth human.

Arfur Trool, genius amongst geniuses, looked down from The Forevvan and sighed. He had some serious persuading to do – the completely conservative minds around him wouldn’t be too keen on moving.
Chapter 2

The Mindminder

Having disconnected from the Council meeting, Pilot/Mindminder [8^th Level] Si Trool gave herself a gentle pat on the back before returning to the comfort of her cabin. She took a moment to double check her Mind/matic Interface’s assessment of the life support and shielding systems of her ship, GravityMaster 74, before re-examining her target. She had spent nearly five Earth years completing her mind survey of the notable people of the planet below. Her reports had been comprehensive and her masters were obviously pleased. Si is not a typical Trebian. She is a frustrated adventurer – an unfulfilled explorer with a dash of hedonism. On her home planet she is regarded as a rather attractive, but slightly scary, eccentric genius. From her point of view, arranging the self-destruction of seven billion Earth humans seemed neither complicated nor onerous.

When she had first arrived in Earth’s orbit she had been fascinated by the disparity of the population below. The dominant species was divided into many groups of differing beliefs, cultures, attitudes and even colours. The vast majority were large, incredibly ugly and so hairy, something quite outside Si’s experience. In her short career as Pilot/Mindminder 8, she had never come across a single species so totally lacking in unity of purpose. Although vaguely similar in appearance, the much larger Earth humans had nothing in common with the Trebians. Earth humans died after very short and rather pointless lives. Many existed in misery or poverty and often both. And there were billions of them! They reproduced at random by physical sex, a process Si had only tried once and hadn’t found particularly pleasurable. However, it seemed to be going on all the time down below – some of the people even appeared to enjoy doing it. How strange!

A typical Trebian doesn’t get misery, has no concept of poverty or hunger and thinks sexual intercourse is a very messy way of wasting time that could be better spent relaxing.

A significant cause of Earth human misery seemed to be the lack of knowledge about what was to happen to them after death and, predictably, this had brought about the development of organised religion. Si knew from her history studies that a similar thing had occurred on Treb. Many years B.A.T., groups of wealthy, powerful males had invented various philosophies that they had used to subjugate the poor and, in particular, females. Despite her eccentricities, Si Trool was very definitely a female. She considered faith to be a good thing – but she was no fan of organised religion.

The complexity and purpose of Earth human organised religion was fascinating and Si spent long periods inside the minds of religious leaders and some of their more over-zealous followers.

Within some factions, the concept of something called ‘soul’, whatever that might be, had been introduced, promising all sorts of wonders after death, but Si could find no evidence for its existence in any of the Earth humans she had examined. What she did discover though, was that, over the years, many groups had been infiltrated by some suspiciously decent people, intent on acts of unselfish kindness and self-sacrifice. Despite her most assertive mind-probes, Si could find no logical reason for this behaviour and came to the conclusion that a tiny minority of Earth humans were simply ‘good’. The result, though, was that each religion was divided into two groups: those who wanted to do good deeds in the name of their religion, and those who hurled contempt and violence on everyone stupid enough to follow different beliefs.

To Si, bigotry, argument and rivalry seemed to be the prime motivation of many religious leaders. Mere survival appeared more important to the pathetic masses under their influence. The Earth humans hadn’t even reached the intellectual level of other primitive human-type civilisations where everyone knew that ancestors were able to recover the minds of their descendants from the limbo of first death – thus guaranteeing that children were always very polite to their parents.

[The situation on Earth was almost as grave as that on Trage Minor, where religious wars had raged for centuries until Trebian Mindminders stopped the conflicts by entering the minds of the population and instilling the facts – that both of the rival Gods were merely theoretical personifications of the combined intellect of their deceased ancestors. Even that solution was only temporary – eventually, the Trebians felt obliged to divide the entire planet with a huge wall.]

Si assessed that religious discord had a huge amount of potential and would be an excellent starting point for the self destruction of Earth human life – those complex hatreds would oil the wheels beautifully.

She had discovered some evidence of a Forevvan-like body deep in Earth history. In direct contrast to the true Trebian version, however, it had seemed to be reserved for some kind of ruling elite. An ancient race called the Egyptians had apparently established some kind of direct communication with the spiritual world but Earth historians had incorrectly concluded that this was with some form of deity. Si guessed that this ancient ‘Earth human Forevvan’ had excluded the majority of people because they had led lives of such complete misery, their minds would have nothing positive to contribute to the collective brilliance of the ‘elite’. How un-Trebian! Si made a few brief attempts to track down the remains of this ‘Forevvan’ but the signals it gave off were weak and intermittent. She made the seriously incorrect assumption that it would not be an impediment as her plans for Earth went forward. Ooops!

Si felt a small amount of pity for the Earth humans but this unusual emotion was overwhelmed by a colossal contempt. She was however, almost jealous of them in one perverse way. Because they did not know their fate, they had powerful mystery in their otherwise trivial lives. The future of every Trebian was entirely predictable and this made them secure, confident, laid-back and extremely smug. Si Trool craved excitement – a bit of mystery couldn’t hurt, could it?

But religion was nothing when compared with politics. Si’s priority for mindscanning had been the politicians. To aid her in this task she had undertaken a detailed study of the most powerful [well, everything is relative] males and females in the governments of this bizarre planet. During this period Si consistently failed to discover even a tiny minority of the unselfish ‘good’. What soon became obvious, though, was that some types of Earth humans had built-in resistance to her mind probes. Politics was riddled with this type – the completely insane – those so engrossed in their own selfish dreams and prejudices that they had no real regard for ordinary people. In democracies they were identified by their ability to make the most outrageous promises in order to impress the electorate. Si had dismissed the potential usefulness of many politicians from some of the larger and more powerful [in Earth terms] states as ineffectual. They worked within such appallingly decadent and inflexible organisations that they were unsuitable for her purpose.

She did discover several nations with vicious dictators in charge – they would be useful later.

She liked the look of a small area called Britain and reported that the largest of these islands had the potential to become home for the five million Trebians. It was just the right size, its variation in landscape was similar to Treb’s, it was geologically stable, it was relatively free of harmful sub-species and its island status would make control of the weather a straightforward task for The Meteorologist. What made this nation especially attractive to Si, though, was one particular individual who had huge influence.

Liam Young, right-hand man of Britain’s Prime Minister fascinated her. Young was the only Earth human who had ever sensed her mindscan. He was a formidable intellect, but even more exciting, he had the most completely devious mind Trool had ever entered. A sparring partner with enormous potential for evil! If the second phase of her mission was approved, she felt she would have great fun inside the head of Mr. Liam Young.

Chapter 3

Mr. Liam Young

At his usual 5am, Liam Young woke – but with a cracking headache. This made him rather angry. He’d never had a headache in his life before. In fact, he had no recollection of ever having been ill.

He dialled zero and spoke to his ever present housekeeper, Betsy Boyd.

“BB, I’ve got a really crappy headache, bring me whatever it is ordinary people take when they have a crappy headache.”

It took several minutes for Betsy to arrive and knock at Liam’s bedroom door. She rarely entered when he was in residence; she was never quite sure who would be in the bed.

“Why the hell has it taken so long, I’m in agony here?” met her as she opened the door.

“Sorry dear, it took me ages to find these, you’ve never needed anything like it before. Do you want me to call a doctor, I’m sure the PM’s private physician would be happy to turn out for you?” she responded patiently, handing over a glass of water and a strip of paracetamol.

Mention of the PM reminded Liam of his planned breakfast meeting.

Between gulps [how do you swallow these damn things?], Liam shouted at the retreating Betsy, “BB, call the old fart and tell him I won’t be at his fucking tedious breakfast briefing!”

“Would you like me to use those exact words, dear?” Betsy closed the door just in time to save herself from a further torrent of abuse. She smiled to herself as she descended the stairs. Although she knew Liam was a complete arse, Betsy loved him as much as she would have loved a son of her own – if she had ever been lucky enough to meet Mr. Right.

For the first time in his adult life, Liam laid in bed beyond 8am feeling very sorry for himself. The pain gradually subsided and left him with an even more alien sensation. He felt as if someone had entered his brain, searched around, messed up a few files, found little of interest and abandoned him without so much as a ‘by your leave’. That was it, he felt violated.

As the discomfort finally abated, Liam began to feel a low-level sexual excitement, similar to the buzz he felt yesterday afternoon just before he allowed himself to be seduced by the PM’s eighteen-year-old daughter. Liam Young tended to give in rather easily.

The trouble with being super intelligent, powerful, disgustingly rich, tall, dark and handsome was that many women found him irresistible. At thirty-five, Liam could have had the choice of any number of the beautiful women who courted his affections. There were two problems with this. First, Liam had no intention of making a commitment to anyone or anything. Second, Liam liked his women young – not underage mind you, (he had strong principles about that sort of thing), just young. He’d not had a ‘fling’ with a woman over twenty-five since he was fourteen. He picked his target, made his move, received assent and enjoyed a night of ferocious debauchery. Occasionally, this would be repeated if he found the sex to his liking but usually he stuck to one night stands. Liam had a talent for making his conquests think that they had suggested an end to the ‘relationship’, therefore freeing him to move on to another lady. However, his current target, Melissa Monroe, a twenty-two-year-old researcher at Party HQ, was proving to be a difficult nut to crack. In fact, much to his amazement, she was having none of him.

Melissa was elegant and refined. She was tall and slim with just the right number of curves in just the right places and only someone with near perfect features could get away with such a short cropped hairstyle. She was exceptionally bright and, unfortunately for Liam, simply adored her boyfriend. Melissa anticipated her wedding with absolute joy and almost always beamed a lovely smile. The only exception was when Liam was around trying out his sledgehammer flirtations. Her refusal to succumb to his approaches had caused her to become something of an obsession.

Being very much in the public eye, Liam knew that his philandering had to be hidden from view and he was very, very careful. Only BB and the chauffeur knew about his ambitions to get into Miss Monroe’s knickers, and about all the other young hopefuls who had attended Liam’s bed. He was confident that Betsy wasn’t going to blow the whistle because he knew she worshipped the ground he walked on. He paid her well and always treated her with total respect, at least to his own standards. Jessop the chauffeur was Liam’s right-hand man. When it came to getting things [or people] done, they were the perfect partnership. They knew far too much about each other ever to separate.

Three years previously, a tabloid reporter had managed to acquire pictures of Liam arm in arm with a couple of gorgeous teenage girls and was foolish enough to print them with the headline, ‘LIAM YOUNG LIKES ‘EM YOUNG?’ – followed by a good splash of innuendo. Liam’s lawyers had had a field day. An undisclosed amount of cash changed hands after an out-of-court settlement. Six months later the reporter died as a result of a [still unsolved] hit and run – conveniently when Liam was in Moscow with the PM. Jessop had a convincing alibi, too. Since then, details of Liam’s private life had not appeared in the press. Reporters and paparazzi kept a respectful distance.

However, Mr. Liam Young wasn’t aware that Si Trool had no concept of respectful distance.

A Brief History of Treb – The Planet & the People

Treb is a small planet in the system of a cooling yellow dwarf sun known locally as Mons Dando. It orbits its sun every Treb year [= 7.3 Earth Years]. The planet spins almost vertically on its axis 26,202.05 times each year. A Trebian day is therefore slightly longer than an Earth day. It has thirteen moons [all of which are occupied by automaton monitoring stations and some educational facilities] so the Trebians don’t bother with months. They don’t bother with names for smaller amounts of time than the day, either.

Trebians are big on decimals.

The planet is cooling. Despite the best efforts of the Thermal Engineers and Meteorologists, the population had been obliged to migrate, over many generations, ever closer to the equator. Recently the climate change has accelerated dramatically and massive ice-fields are forming at the poles. Unacceptably low temperatures are approaching populated areas and the potential for future discomfort is high. The Council of Equals has decided that the time has come to find a new planet.

It’s a good job Trebians are the brightest species The Universe has ever known – otherwise they’d be in deep shit! [see farming]

Trebians are big on being comfortable.

Trebians are genetically engineered to be perfect. They are smaller than many of the other varieties of so-called ‘humans’ that are spread across The Universe but are far more intellectual. Every Trebian has delightful features and a healthy physique. All are without hair [anywhere!]. They take great pride in their appearance; males and females are always elegantly dressed, usually in subtle, pastel shades. The only exception is the super-efficient Mit Han, Space Exploration Manager. Her one vanity was to design herself a very formal, smart, jet-black outfit – sort of Gucci meets Gestapo.

All Trebians are very bright, though most would be thought lazy by other cultures [and that would bother the Trebians how?]. The brightest of the bright become Mindminders – without doubt the cleverest individuals to have existed anywhere, ever!

Trebians are also big on being peaceful, relaxed and utterly selfish.

Si Trool is not the only exception. There are other eccentrics – as you will soon discover.

Let me know at ian.s.mccollum@gmail.com if you want me to upload the next three chapters – free of charge!