"Utopia," by Tim De Haan

Most of them had never seen a gun before. It had been over a 120 years since the last Remington had been produced and 100 years since there was a privately-owned weapon on Earth. The Global Congress had signed a legislative law, dubbed the Peace Movement, banning weapons and had spent twenty harsh years to make it that way. There were only two or three in the crowd that had seen one—let alone owned one. There was no more need for metal detectors, a military, or even security guards for Global leaders anymore. Everyone could walk outside—which was very clean and healthy due to the Green Movement back in the early 2000s—without a worry of being mugged or murdered. They had reached a “utopia” as some were calling it, but today was a nightmare.

* * *

They boarded the pilotless vessel bound for Crystal City on the moon earlier that morning of June 10, 3438. Nothing was out of the ordinary and the takeoff went surprisingly well considering the violent thunder storm that was taking place. Slivken Apollo, Head of the Global Congress for 52 consecutive years, had found his way into the sleek capsule and had situated himself in a seat toward the front after a long night. He was in his mid nineties and the white tuff of hair that hung on—resistant to the end—looked oily and improperly groomed. There hadn’t been time to take a shower and prepare before he departed, which allowed him to slip in through the crowd rather unnoticed. Most of the time, he would get a few admirers to shake his hand and thank him for what he had done for the universe.

He hated having to ride public transportation to Crystal City, but today he really had no choice since the moon’s teleportation systems were sabotaged. Now he would have to endure a painful three hours of noisy children and commoners as they departed for the moon. Luckily for him, he was very tired and would probably sleep most of the way.

The flight was going smooth and Apollo had nearly fallen asleep, but his mind kept reverting back to last night’s discussion. “But how could that be possible?” He thought. “Earth was the strongest of the Galactic Alliance so why hadn’t they heard about the issue before it happened? The Shiga and Neqil systems had reported disturbances, but no one ever thought that it was—”

Apollo suddenly stirred, bewildered from the great shock that had rocked the vessel from its charted path. Shrieks from children filled the cramped space and shook the hull with a brutal thrashing. Parents tried to comfort them with gentle words, but even in their voices could be heard a strain of nervousness. “What hit us?” wondered Apollo, trying to peer out a window. The autopilot came on the overhead speakers announcing they had been struck by some unknown object and that scans were being run to discover the source. A few minutes eked by ever so slowly as the passengers strained their ears for an update.

“The scans have all finished and there appears to be nothing to have hit the EA5300 Starlight which means either the object was decimated on impact or—“
There was another violent assault on the craft, causing the lights to flicker. This time the adults began to panic and Apollo knew that something terrible was happening. Sounds of engine burners close to the hull of the Starlight roared throughout the cabin and were followed by the clanging of airlocks. Someone was trying to board the ship.

* * *

It had been twelve years since Apollo was elected as one of sixty European Senators to the Global Congress and he was now searching for greater power. He had gone along with the Peace Movement that happened just before he was born—his parents told him how much better the world had become. Wanting to take the Peace Movement and use it to elect himself as Head of Congress, Apollo would take the enthusiasm for peace and expand it into a Galactic Peace. He wanted to show the rest of the universe how magnificent and beneficial banding weapons could be. Billions of commoners rallied behind Apollo, believing in his dream and eager for peace.

Election Day came and Apollo easily grasped his authority without resistance. Soon, he was deploying delegates to various systems all over the universe to spread his propaganda. Wherever they went, systems came in droves to surrender their weapons and military. With few threats remaining, the Global Congress was nearing the dismissal of the military alongside the rest of the Galactic Alliance. Many claimed this was the final step to the Peace Movement and Apollo was a visionary man who had saved the universe from imminent disaster.

With any movement, there had been some resistance. The Breeni system was in open rebellion against the Galactic Alliance. There had been a cease fire for several years due to major damage inflicted on both sides, but the tensions only grew. Even after being told that they would no longer have to fight the war they could not win, the Breenians refused to accept the offer of laying down their weapons for peace. Apollo knew that the Shiga and Neqil systems would never agree to disband their military if the Breenians would not do the same. The rest of the Alliance would end up listening to them because it was through their strong-arm defense that the Breenians were kept at bay from the rest of the Alliance.

Apollo had spent over three years sending delegates to promote peace until it seemed only few options left. He couldn’t abandon all his work and disappoint the people who loved him. They were a fickle group and would have him thrown out at the first scent of failure. There was always the possibility of forcing what he wanted… but how could he make sure that no one found out? Everything he did and his reputation rested on his belief in peace and nonviolence.

* * *

The airlocks were sealed and the patter of footsteps on the ceiling sounded like water droplets dripping from the leaves of trees after a cool spring shower. The autopilot announced an intrusion but was cut short and the ship changed course yet another time. A few men rose to their feet, ready for battle but were forced down by their wives’ desperate call or the realization that no one had any true fighting skills. None of the young agile men in the belly of the beached whale had seen a movie with weapons or martial arts. No one had been in the military or seen a war. No school even taught about the five World Wars, the Breeni Invasion, or the Yetti System Massacre. Dictionaries no longer contained words like ‘war,’ ‘weapon,’ ‘fight,’ or ‘murder,’ and those that remembered the lost words didn’t dare utter them.

What little knowledge of fighting existed was that of wrestling siblings or the occasional disputes in Europe after a soccer game, and even then those weren’t like they used to be a millennium ago. Most of the time, it ended within a few minutes and no irreversible damage was done. The Global Congress nearly passed a law to ban all aggressive sports but was only able to remove the most violent like football, hockey, rugby, and wrestling. Now, only golf, swimming, tennis, and gymnastics were allowed to be aired on television so as not to pollute the minds of those watching.

As the men slowly sank down again, knowing a defense would be futile, fear seized the hearts of everyone and terror tormented each soul. The presence of an unwelcome being lurked in every corner, searching for the opportune moment to reveal itself. Apollo looked at his hands—they were trembling. He had never been so afraid before, so utterly helpless. He would have kept a private guard for himself and the rest of the Global Congress, but that would have worked against Galactic Peace. Damn it all. Now when he really needed a weapon there was not one to be found.

* * *

Apollo spoke softly to his friend, Uri Lixil, about the voyage soon to take place. Lixil, a Global Marine Coronel of the Special Forces Division, usually embarked on top secret missions that were never recorded nor known to the general public, and this request was nothing new. The men conversed in Apollo’s study of his elaborate mansion in what was formerly known as Madagascar. The island had been converted into the governmental seat and contained many other luxurious houses for the Global Congress members. Lixil was nodding slowly, confirming the words as they spilled out from Apollo’s lips.

“Travelling at our fastest, we could reach them a week before the signing, but that would leave little time to take control. On top of that, we would want to be stealthy. No Alliance solider wants to end up in Breenian hands,” Lixil stated back to Apollo.

“Do you think… do you think that you could dispose of them, I mean, at least enough to allow for Global Peace to pass?”

“That would be near impossible. You know the Neqilians will want proof of them laying down their weapons and unless we completely destroy them, they will rise up again and the peace will end. We do have the firepower to force them to surrender and inadvertently forfeit their weapons, but the Alliance will see that we are doing and it will work against the peace movement.”

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

“Sir, give me authorization and I will take care of the details. The Breenians will surrender and the Pact will be signed. No one will be able to trace the blame to you.”

Apollo thought for a moment, but finally nodded once. It was barely noticeable in the dim light but Lixil’s keen eyes caught the movement.

“Consider the job done, sir.” Lixil stood, saluted, and departed out the back door. Apollo uneasily looked at random documents on his desk, unsure if he had made the right choice.

* * *

Without warning, the rear hatch flung open and in stepped a squad of armed soldiers. Many of them were tall and dressed very different from what Apollo had ever seen, but most of the people had not even seen a military combatant and were confused who the uninvited guests were. One of the soldiers shouted to get on the floor, but no one moved. Everyone had his or her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the strange objects the marines were holding. Apollo knew what they were, but was so stricken with fear he couldn’t move. Never in his life had he been held at gunpoint, nor had he thought it would ever happen.

“Get their attention,” ordered what appeared to be the commanding officer.

The burly man next to him pulled out a black metal seven. He held it from the top end, pointed it toward the ceiling, and proceeded to pull a small lever in the nook of the number. The ringing blast and screams that followed made Apollo’s heart miss a beat. Again, the commander ordered everyone on the floor; this time they obeyed. The leader began to walk through the aisles and intently examined each face. When he came near Apollo, their eyes locked and for the first time Apollo noticed how old the commander was—probably about the same age as himself. Apollo was the first to break away from the stare, and the commander moved on.

* * *

The Galactic Peace Pact was signed into effect. All the systems agreed that the universe was safe after receiving confirmation from their embassies that the system in which it was stationed had intentions of surrendering its weapons. Everyone’s military had been disbanded and weapons were demolished. The rejoicing took place an hour after the last weapon was melted down and the entire galaxy resounded with songs. Never before had there been so much bliss in the cosmos and for the first time everyone everywhere could delight in the same event.

Apollo was considered a hero. Everything he had ever wanted had come true in half a decade. There seemed nothing more to do other than guide the Alliance through the Pact and make sure it didn’t break down after a year or two. One simple, inconsiderate commoner could make an entire system furious with another. There were some close calls, but Apollo was able to remind the offended party of the splendor of peace.

Of course, there were the frantic radicals who knew that at any moment the Alliance would fall apart because some system would have lied. It never happened. No attacks, no wars, no fighting. Somehow Apollo had succeeded in universal peace. It was as if his propaganda had placed each system under a spell that couldn’t be broken. Apollo held all the secrets which would ultimately be forgotten. It would be at least half a century before it became official—they would have to wait until an entire generation completely forgot about weapons and the contagious disease of war.

* * *

The commander had a perplexed look on his face when he finished scouring the passengers. He called over one of his cohorts and conversed with him while the rest of the squadron paced around. Neither of the two seemed very pleased at not finding what they had come for. The commander kept glancing at the captives, straining his eyes without blinking. Though his eyes seemed weak in his aged state, they had not lost the sharp and piercing stare. The two didn’t talk long before the commander returned to the back of the room.

“We are in a dilemma. I am looking for someone, but I can’t seem to find him,” he said with a clear, strong voice. Even though he was much older than previously thought, his voice and the way he strode around the ship displayed a certain fervor about him.

Apollo watched and listened closely. Every movement, gesture, and inflection brought a memory of someone very familiar to Apollo, but he did not know who. He continued to search the commander’s face—wrinkles were beginning to form around his eyes and mouth. The commander caught Apollo’s gaze but did not hold it long, constantly searching each face.

The commander continued, “So this is what I am going to do for you.” He placed his giant black boot on one of the seats and leaned on his knee. His arched back was not frail like Apollo expected but firm and tone. “You all know the great Head of the Global Congress, Slivken Apollo. Ah, yes… the Great Apollo. I have been searching for him for quite some time now and I know he is on this ship.”

It suddenly became obvious to Apollo: this intruder was old friend Lixil. But he’s… dead. Apollo had killed him nearly fifty years ago. Thoughts of that day flooded his mind. This is impossible! The Neqilians reported his ship destroyed and Lixil was never heard of again for nearly half a century. Then today he shows up. Lixil had come to get his vengeance for what Apollo had done. Apollo you fool! You knew this would come back to haunt you! He tried to figure out what he should do, but they were here for him and he had no way of escaping.

* * *

“Is it finished?” questioned Apollo into the microphone.

“Yes, sir,” Lixil responded. “They Neqilians took the bait and the Breenians are taken care of. We won’t have to worry about there being any conflicts. The war will be over in less than a three days, just in time for the signing of the Pact. You may want to talk to the Neqilians about their actions.”

“I will. I won’t push them; just remind them of how painful weapons can be. Once they realize they don’t want this war anymore, they will put down their weapons and sign. Good work Lixil. Shall I expect to see you in a few days?”

“We will have to work out way out under radar cover because the Neqilians are not asking questions at the moment. We are targets in Breeni System right now and the Neqilians have resorted to shoot first, ask later. It may be a week if we can’t find the right conditions.”

“Good, good. Just get yourself back here without dying. I will need you here so that every solider is accounted for in the decommissioning service. You of all know how important that is.”

* * *

“I am embarrassed to say this, but I cannot recall Apollo looks like these days. It has been many years since I last saw him, and well, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” Lixil said at last to the passengers. He had waited to see if anyone would expose Apollo, but no one budged or made a sound—even the children sat quietly.

Grinning widely, Lixil continued, “If someone would like to point out who Apollo is, I would be grateful and reward you handsomely for your good work.”

Again he waited, but the fear the gunshot had placed in the hearts of all the travelers kept them silently cowering on the floor. Angered by the stillness, he called over his assistant to talk again. They were very efficient in conversation—not like politics—because they were finished within a matter of moments. This time, Lixil did not present a cheerful attitude but one of annoyance.

“I have given you a chance to hand over Apollo to me, but apparently you are too cowardly or ignorant to comprehend what I am asking. Therefore, I will have to use a more rash method. I need Apollo. Rather, I need him dead. If he is dead within an hour, I will let you all continue on your journey toward Crystal City. If not, then I will destroy this ship with everyone inside. Either way, Apollo is dead, but one way you are alive and the other you are not. I recommend you choose wisely.”

Lixil turned and headed for the rear hatch, followed by his entourage. The door slammed shut behind them and a lock being fastened could be heard through the heavy steel. Some started to get up; others fainted. Apollo began to shake violently. He was in the last moments of his life.

* * *

Apollo had just ended the conversation with Lixil when he started the next secure communication link to the Neqilian Cruiser Masoijv. A gruff and unpleasant voice answered his bidding.

“Ah, Senator Apollo,” the raspy voice proclaimed. “For what do I owe the honor?”

“Good day—or night depending on where you are. Admiral Tybis, I have reports from my best analysts that a small Earth vessel was hijacked over thirty years ago during the Breenian Invasion. It was assumed that all on board were killed and the ship destroyed in the fighting because the homing beacon was lost and there were no subsequent distress calls. Well, that ship has recently come back into view and is currently in the Breenian sector. It is not following any normal course which makes me assume that there are Breenian exiles on board. I am requesting that you intersect and destroy this ship before we lose it again. You have made swift work on the Breenians ever since they broke the cease fire, so we don’t want to lose the possibility of ending the resistance once and for all.”

* * *

Apollo finally moved once Lixil left the room. He looked up and noticed many eyes affixed to him, and for the first time in his political life, he felt awkward with so many people looking at him. Maybe because he knew it wasn’t for leadership, or even because he was the keynote speaker. No, this time it was because this was his fault; he put them all in this situation. No one knew why Apollo was being looked for or why he had a death sentence. He sunk his weary forehead in his hands, realizing how incredibly tired he was.

He lifted his head slightly and searched his wrinkled hands, noticing every crack and grove that crisscrossed over the surface of his skin like highways which choked the confused world in which he lived. Where had the time gone? Fifty years ago, his hands were smooth and strong. They had been flung around a stage in front of an audience that cheered passionately after every sentence. That used to drive him crazy. People would interrupt him every thirty seconds to shout and whistle, but most of them didn’t even have a clue what he was saying. All he wanted to do was get on a roll and let the words spill out, but the sheepish crowd thought it was their innate duty to provide support whenever he paused. He didn’t mind the herd mentality after a while, in fact, without it he may not have won. The people saw a good cause and threw their support at it. They rallied behind him even when he was about to take way more of their freedom. In a way though, he offered them a new freedom. The freedom from assault in the middle of the night. Freedom from war. Freedom from fear. He had solved one of the universe’s flaws single handedly and they loved him for it. It only cost him a dear friend, but he had been willing to make that sacrifice for the rest of the universe.

* * *

The hum of murmuring stirred Apollo from his thoughts and back to the commoners. He glanced over them and instead of seeing what he expected—anger and hostility—he saw confusion. The commoners were discussing amongst themselves about what Lixil has said and questioning what he meant. They were all wondering how Apollo was just going to die in one hour. He was old, they knew that, but he still had at least another thirty years of life, so it wouldn’t be natural causes. He was not ill or had an incurable disease—which were few these days. No apparent lethal accident was to be seen. The whole idea of Slivken Apollo just collapsing dead seemed preposterous. No one ever just died on command and certainly it wasn’t going to happen now, even if Apollo wanted to.

But what did that strange man mean by destroying the ship? No one can destroy a ship just because they say it. Something has to malfunction or an asteroid has to smash into it. But most of those problems are avoided by the automated pilot. Besides, most of those horror stories where a ship loses power and goes off course are probably myths anyway. No one actually believes in failing computers. So this man was just trying to scare them, and it worked. It was a good thrill. Probably something the public transportation designed to promote more customers to ride. Ever since the teleporter was built, only the poorest have to travel by ship. They were even able to get Slivken Apollo to ride on board. Well, it’s probably not the actual Slivken Apollo, just a good actor.

One brave soul got up to confront Apollo after a few minutes passed. Smiling, he extended his hand and said, “Mister Apollo, I just want to congratulate you on your fine job back there. You really had me worried there for a moment that you were going to die. Who were those other guys anyway?”

“Uh, well…” Apollo stuttered, glancing at the protruding hand before grasping it with his own. “They were my friends at one time, but now I guess they are against me. I haven’t seen them for ages. I thought Lixil—the leader—was dead.”

“He gave me a good scare. I haven’t been that terrified in a long time… and it felt good. I guess one needs a bit of fear in his life every now and then. Makes him feel human. I know for sure that I will write a good review when we get to Crystal City. My name’s Braak. I’m a journalist for the Crystal City Virtue. You might have read some of my works on golf tournaments in past years.”

Apollo despised journalists, especially since they stopped writing about anything valuable. He could remember the days when the papers would be headlined in a sea of black. Wars and major political scandals covered the front and cruelty filled the middle and end. Journalists would do everything they could to get a good story—no matter what--and print it. Nowadays, the only things that made headline news were sports or who broke up with so-and-so. Politics were rarely covered except when Apollo made some speech on the current state of the Alliance or further expansion of Galactic Peace, but few seemed interested in that anymore. Apollo’s job had become very easy… too easy. He took away weapons and everyone lost interest in their government. Strange how those two things had become so intertwined that one could hardly exist without the other.

Apollo gave Braak a unpleasant look. “No I have never read your articles, but how could you think of something like that right now? Lixil is trying to kill me and all you can think about is your work.”

Braak returned a mystified look. “What? I don’t understand.”

“Weren’t you listening to Lixil? It’s just a matter of time before everyone in here turns on me—”

“I did hear what he said,” interrupted Braak. “He did a fine job as well; almost believed him. You know, you all really did a splendid job. Even after I have figured it all out, you just keep on going.”

“Figured what out? Braak, this isn’t a game! Lixil is trying to kill—”

“Of course it isn’t a game. I may not be an actor but I do know a few things. This is a skit, or rather a promotion by the public transportation, is it not?”

“A promotion? No, you have it all wrong. This isn’t a skit and I am no actor. I am Slivken Apollo, Head of Global Congress.”

“Of course you are,” Braak said with a smirk on his face. Apollo became irritated.

“No, Braak. I am Apollo. I’m only on this bloody ship because the teleportation system is down. Lixil is very real and he will kill us all.”

Braak became very puzzled suddenly. “You keep using that word ‘kill.’ Now I know I haven’t been on Earth very often lately, but I can usually pick up on the new terminology being flung around. You actors… always making up words to sound important. Please, enlighten me.”

The realization that Braak and the other passengers had no concept of ‘murder’ stunned Apollo. He had completely forgotten that his secrets were lost to the universe. No one had a friend or relative who was murdered and the news never covered any horrific tales. The word and the action had completely fallen out of existence.

* * *

It had been one hour. Lixil assumed Apollo would be dead by now, so he started his decent into the commandeered craft. He had spent the last hour mapping out what he believed was going on in the cabin. Minute after minute, he relayed what was being said, who did what, and ended his foretelling with bloodbath. He knew the human mind and could predict with little error what his enemies would do when they are divided. That’s why he is so good at what he does. It’s also why he survived to seek his revenge. It didn’t take much to defer the Neqilian cruiser. Admiral Tybis reported the ship destroyed and Lixil went back to what he did best. The Neqilians were smart in hiring an outside force while they disbanded their military. They could join the Galactic Peace Pact and yet do anything they wanted to. And the best part was that nothing could be traced back to them. Apollo could have done the same if he hadn’t tried to kill Lixil. He must have forgotten how good—and loyal—Lixil was.

Lixil only took a few guards this time, assuming there would only be a few survivors left. Two sides would have formed: one in defense of Apollo, and the other in opposition. The latter would have won out by sheer numbers, but only after losing some of their own. He would take the remaining commoners as hostage and ransom them. The best part was not having to worry about a special forces team busting down the front door and taking him captive. No one could stop him.

Lixil reached the rear hatch and ordered the lock removed and the door opened. He promptly stepped inside but quickly became horrified at the sight. There were no lifeless bodies, no last-standing survivors, no dead Apollo. They were all just sitting there, like they had been listening to someone. Their eyes—now on him—held confusion.

Apollo had spent the better part of the hour desperately trying to explain the concept of murder and what Lixil intentions for them all if they didn’t put up a fight. But all this talk of nonsense made the commoners sure Apollo was only a lookalike actor who had taken his job just a bit too seriously. Now they were just annoyed with the show.

Slowly, a few of them returned their gaze to an old man in the center. It was then that Lixil finally recognized his ex-friend. Anger burned in his soul and he reached for his sidearm. Taking notice, the crowd panicked again. Some immediately got down on the floor, others stood up in protest of a second shot being fired. This time, instead of pointing the weapon in the air and firing, Lixil aimed at Apollo’s chest and pulled the trigger.

* * *

He fell down. The old man collapsed to his knees and gasped frantically for air. Blood began to seep from behind his shirt as he groped at his wound. Apollo stood behind the kneeling man who had walked in the path of the bullet at the last second.

Half an hour ago, the old man sat calmly three seats down from Apollo and Braak. He listened to their conversation closely. He had trouble hearing everything mentioned, but there were words he hadn’t heard in nearly forty-five years and they perked his interest. On the edge of his seat, the string of syllables sailing across the room echoed in his ears. If only he could remembered what some of those words were, but it had been so long and his memory was deteriorating. Even though he didn’t understand the conversation, one thing he did know was the Apollo and Lixil were no actors. This was real. The soldier’s guns made that obvious. No promotion scheme would have weapons in them.

It, too, had been ages since he had seen a gun—or held one. His first and last rifle he ever owned he received from his father as a young boy. They went out hunting together and would return home triumphantly with a six-point buck or a few pheasants. He loved that time with his father. He loved his father. When they came to take away their weapons, his father resisted. The men tried to force their way into the house so his father told him to run, and he did when the shots rang out. All he could remember from that horrifying day was seeing his father lying in pool of blood. From that point on, he hated weapons and believed deeply in the Peace Movement. If it weren’t for guns, his father would have lived a long life; long enough to see Utopia. Apollo was a good man. Even though it was through the Peace Movement that the old man’s father died, Apollo removed weapons from everyone—including the military—so that there could be no more… murder. Yes, that was it. Apollo saved the world from murder, and Lixil was going to have Apollo murdered just like his father. Apollo had to live, whatever the cost.

* * *

It finally made sense. Apollo had been trying to tell the commoners something very real and they had just pushed it aside like an unwanted advertisement. They just didn’t understand the magnitude of Apollo’s concern and he had lost their interest within ten minutes. Not anymore. The old man was dying on the floor, thrashing around in pain. Death has seized his body but it did not come about by natural causes, an unforeseen accident, or a serious illness. This death was foreign to them, and it made them distraught. They looked at Lixil and saw true fear, but now they knew how to destroy it. They stood up with one intention.

Lixil and his troops were surrounded. They could try to fight their way out, but the massive group would surely overwhelm them once they had to reload—they already had limited ammunition with no system producing it anymore. The commoners moved in closer and the soldiers elevated their weapons parallel to the floor. The men and women knitted together, prepared to end fear.

“Do you know what you are about to do?” Lixil asked the enveloping swarm. “You praise Apollo for everything he has ever done in the universe, but you have failed to see who he really is. I offered to spare your lives at the cost of one. He did the same thing once. The Great Apollo desperately wanted Galactic Peace and did everything he could to get it. Even started a war in which an entire race was nearly wiped from the universe, oh except that he made it look like it was them who started it. He sent me and my troops to create that illusion and leave him out of the picture. Of course he couldn’t risk me getting back here and telling the universe exactly what he did, so naturally he had to have me killed. Only unfortunately for him, he forgot that I was trained to not only kill but also to survive.

“Don’t you see? The real enemy is Apollo. He has kept you ignorant and away from danger. What for? So that everyone plays nice and can get along? Or so he can rule the world? He doesn’t care about you. He wanted power and did everything he could to get it.

“Now I am doing exactly what he did! Kill one to save the rest. If you fight us now, many of you will die just like that foolish man on the floor. Take my offer and kill the man who has used you over and over again to gain dominance over you.”

The mob stopped pressing in and looked back at Apollo. Anger and disbelief swam through the sea of bodies. Whispers, just audible over the moan of the engines, bounced around the room. Apollo glared back at Lixil, hatred raging in his bones.

“I offered you peace,” countered Apollo. “Do you honestly think that it wouldn’t come without a cost? You all wanted Galactic Peace but it would have never happened unless I did something. But the one thing I could do would destroy everything I had worked so hard for. So I did what I had to. I did what was best for everyone. Look how far we have come without war! We no longer have to fear people like Lixil. No one has to die in vain like this man. You are better people without this knowledge. I wasn’t keeping anything from you that made you less human. If anything, it made you more human. Fear of attack or murder prevented you from living to your fullest potential. I have ended that for you. Look at yourselves now. You have been ready to kill us as soon as you found out about murder. I tried to stop that but now Lixil has ruined you.”

Lixil circled around, allowing everyone to see his face. “Fight for your freedom; the freedom this man has stolen from you! You want peace, but peace cannot last forever. Then what? Will you just let a foreign system take over? Will you let yourselves be conquered because Apollo is thirsty for power? He is the reason you are here right now. Do not let him force you—”

Apollo interrupted, sickened by Lixil’s words. “People, do not believe him. Have I attacked you? Have I caused you any harm? For nearly fifty years now there has never been a murder or a war and suddenly Lixil is the one who descends on you and is trying to overpower you. Think about how good your life has been before today. No one goes hungry anymore because there are no disputes over food. There are no longer nations because there is no need to fight over boarders. Everyone is part of the same family, but Lixil is not. He has not lived on Earth—or the moon—for the past half century. Yet he believes that he can order you around like ignorant animals. You are not animals at all. You are human beings, something Lixil could never be.”

The crowd stood still, caught in the middle of two angry men. Did they really want peace? Was there more to life than never fearing? Did they want murder and violence to enter back into society? They looked at the dead man on the floor, blood slowly trickling from the hole in his chest. Didn’t they have the right as human beings to know about the human ‘flaws’ that existed for thousands of years? What other things were hidden from them? Did they really want to know? The tension grew as all three parties looked at each other.

* * *

Only Braak and eight other survivors walked off that ship when it docked at Crystal City. He would never forgive himself for what he did. One of Lixil’s soldiers couldn’t take it anymore and a slaughter took place. The civilians advanced on Lixil and at least twenty were riddled with holes before they could rip the weapons away. It was strange to think that it took one-hundred years to remove the knowledge of murder, but it only took one hour to reestablish it. The rest of the troops came in after hearing the commotion, but they weren’t ready for an ambush.

Braak and the other survivors crowded around Apollo after the attack, weapons in hand. Apollo had hidden once the fighting began, concerned only with self-preservation. Braak lightly kicked him in the side to get his attention and Apollo pulled his head out from under the fortification of his arms.

“Thank you for sparing me,” Apollo exclaimed, his voice quavering.

“Are you really only concerned with power? You’re just going to tell them this wasn’t real, aren’t you? And they will accept whatever you say because you are in charge,” Braak said while shaking his head. “You will have us confined without a hearing so we can’t argue our case. And the world will continue spinning in perfection.”

“I will not. I can promise you that the universe will know what happened. The perfection has already come to an end. I never wanted this… I wanted peace. I wanted to show the universe that we are not the barbarians we were. I wanted to make a difference; to end fear. And the only way I knew was to destroy the one thing that kept us from becoming greater. Was it right? Looking back, I would not have changed anything.”

“These people deserved to know what you took away from them!” Braak roared as he pointed at the corpses hewn on the floor.

“I stole nothing from you. I kept you from becoming the monsters you are now. You will forever regret—”

Apollo slumped to the floor. His Utopia had come to an end.

Deep down, Braak felt more human in that short moment than his entire life. He never wanted to murder, nor would he ever do it again, but for the first time in his life he felt connected to the rest of humanity—past and present. He would forever live his life in fear, but at least he would understand why.