Chapter 3 - State Unrestfull; Ugly, Ugly Peace (page-1)
After a long hard night of being long and hard in a Unirgret booth, the last thing you wanted was an early morning with a parade in your honor.
But that's where our tale continues, outside a Unirgret booth, but somewhere within the confines of this galaxy of ours. The very same one that, by each billion years, threatens anew to swallow us all whole, democratic or not.
But this was a special night, even in such an unspecial galaxy as the one I call home. My name is still Tek Jansen and my name, persona and exploits need no introduction. It wasn't that the citizens of the earth I'd saved a hundred times needed to read the series of books that had already been painstakingly dedicated to thoroughly and accurately accounting for his every triumph in the name of mankind, indeed even the illiterate loved me. Sometimes, perhaps under the influence of Venusian pollen cider, I'd even loved a few of them back.
But even my many glorious exploits, both in the battlefield and in the bedroom, were overshadowed by the events at hand, and not by my exploits in strange places, for once. Tonight was the galactic peace celebration, and it was an event more glorious than even the zorbiforic duodnous parades of Persii Omicon 7, at least, not since they outlawed use of human horn in public festivities.
After three hundred million years of warring, the peace had finally been brought about, and it was all thanks to one man. Not just a man, but a legend among legends of men. A host of grandeur and humility previously unimagined in the entirety of the history of any world, moon or spit of rock aspiring to moon status. Prophecy hadn't imagined a love of a man as all-encompassing as this, but the prophets were as wrong as astrology, the time and the man had come, and his name was Tek Jansen, and that man with that name was me.
“This is nice,” I said to a man with eight heads and a heart of unusually high gold content, “but is this really appropriate?”
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