Memory transcription subject: Captain James Holiday, United Nations Special Assault Command
Date [standardized human time]: August 15th, 2136.
The endless expanse of space was something that I would never get used to. Even less so now that a planet other than Earth was within view. Venlil Prime seemed to glow as it rotated in the void and my sense of wonderment swelled with the true understanding that I was on the precipice of something unfathomably larger than myself.
Drifting with us in outer orbit was a behemoth of a space station. It made the stations back home look like miniature models by comparison. I was informed in passing that the colossal facility belonged to our first-contact friends, the Venlil. They had coordinated with the UN to set up an exchange program designed to gently promote interaction between our species.
In just a couple days additional transport vessels would arrive in the system with UN volunteers selected for the program and additional “standard” infantry. I had heard these personnel fit a special profile which made them ideal for the assignment, but everyone seemed to be keeping the specifics to themselves for one reason or another.
I absentmindedly turned over the heavy brass challenge coin in my right hand. I weighed it in my palm, and glanced down to admire the object one more time. Emblazoned on the front was the prestigious saber and planetary orbit insignia of the IRT with the unit motto, “A terra, ad astra”, written in an arc about the edge. I flipped it again and thumbed the USSF Captain rank which stood in relief.
Under any other circumstances I would’ve been elated at the promotion, but knowing my rise to Captain had been expedited by the death of Ryan Finch had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The boys took the news of his passing especially hard; Finch had been one of the greatest men any of us had known. Our expedited deployment timeline following my acceptance of Colonel West’s offer cut short any opportunity for us to properly grieve or attend the services.
If there was any silver lining, the frenzied blitz to move IRT-4 and multiple other similar special forces units to space served as a useful distraction. The colossal mobilization coupled with the dozens of classroom seminars, lectures, and briefings on new equipment and alien species left us with no time to breathe let alone dwell on our feelings that we failed our former Captain.
Several days after staging in low orbit the newly retrofitted USS Arrow of Mars was FTL capable and promptly warped to Venlil territory where we now coasted. The Arrow was a heavy class troop transport equipped with hangar bays, medical facilities, armories, and enough kinetic firepower to defend itself. Coordinated with her sister ship, (the USS Thor’s Hammer), the duo was the perfect platform to facilitate manpower positioning and mission tasking.
Despite the cutting-edge nature of this vessel and her sister, it was still effectively a concept. These were among the largest spacecraft in military service, and even then they were dwarfed by the Venlil ships milling about in the proximity. The ship lacked plasma, high-resistance shielding, and long-distance missile capability. Almost every weapon on board was purposed for defense against single seat fighters at close range.
Other nations' militaries were aboard the Arrow and nearby Thor’s Hammer in numbers never before seen, even during joint operations and training exercises. Few Earthborne (let alone American) starships were designed for an undertaking of this sort and the UN wasted no time in requesting them from the American government and packing them full to the gills with special operators.
“Hey, Holiday.”
I jumped slightly as Sargeant Ransom’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I turned to face him,
“You know better than to sneak up on a guy,” I said with an irritated scowl.
“Well, ya know better than to let me sneak up on ya.” A hint of concern crept into the corners of his eyes, “How ya doing?”
I rolled my shoulders as dismissively as I could, “Fine, I suppose. Although I’m about sick of the death by hologram they’re putting us through. I know you’re ready to throw yourself in the incinerator.”
The UN had required all commanders and second officers to attend a slew of meetings and diplomatic presentations in addition to the training events being force fed to the rest of the men. With the loss of Captain Finch and my promotion to commander of IRT-4, Ransom abruptly became second in command. The Kentucky native hated politics and I could tell he was close to his wits end by how heavily his hickish accent had come out over the last few hours.
Personally, I enjoyed the seminars to a certain degree. Learning about different cultures and militaries was part of the officer’s curriculum back on Earth and the discovery of new species brought about a wealth of new technical data. Chief among this information was caution statements on dealing with the Venlil; apparently they’re slightly uncomfortable around humans.
“I’d’ve already if I knew where it was,” replied Ransom with disdain. He checked his watch, sighing aloud, “Fuck, break’s over already.”
“Best not to keep them waiting.” I slapped Ransom on the shoulder and headed back to the conference room with my disgruntled colleague in tow.
A long rectangular table filled most of the floor space. Around it sat the men who led Earth’s best planetary and extraplanetary special forces units. I recognized Russian, French, and Chinese operators with whom I had previously worked while a menagerie of new faces took up the chairs between. Idle chatter and military stories muddled back and forth while the UN representative at the front of the room reviewed his notes.
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By this point in my military career I was used to being told what to do by people with questionable qualifications and experience as it related to our objectives. The same feeling washed over me every time I heard the scrawny UN scientist with the comb over and glasses speak. He likely harbored similar feelings of annoyance trying to explain the concepts the UN deemed important to a group of bored soldiers.
“Alright, I’d like to go ahead and continue,” the scientist declared.
A chorus of unhappy protests rippled through the operators for a moment before being replaced with the silent respect owed a presenter.
“Concluding our review of Venlil history, we’re going to go ahead and move onto the system-wide rules and regulations for all UNSAC personnel, seeing as how we’re now stationed within Venlil space.”
I stifled a chuckle not for the third or fourth time as he mentioned the name the UN came up with for our mixed company. United Nations Special Assault Command would be a great name were it not for the fact the acronym was being pronounced “un-sack” with reckless abandon. Even the UN should have known that would bring the childish senses of humor to the surface in an instant. My enjoyment at the funny word was cut off instantly as the slide changed and displayed the new rules.
“Firstly, all UNSAC personnel are prohibited from interacting with the local species, the Venlil. All human interaction is currently relegated to diplomats, scientific personnel, and those selected for the exchange program. Second, UNSAC personnel are restricted to orbital craft and installations with the exception of the station housing the Human-Venlil exchange program; said station is also a no-go zone due to the Venlil population aboard. Third, no UNSAC personnel will be allowed to take shore leave on Venlil Prime until further notice, for the same reasons as the last two regulations.”
The presenter started to explain his next point, but was promptly cut off by the commander of the Russian Cosmos Preparedness Task Force.
“Let me get this straight. You have us all here on this starship for the… protection of this territory, yet we are disallowed from leaving the ship or dealing with the aliens we are here to assist? I understand this correctly?”
Several other people came to the same realization and turned their attention suspiciously toward the UN scientist. He fidgeted anxiously at the sudden shift in demeanor throughout the room. More than once he opened his mouth to speak, but every time he tried he faltered under the intensifying ire of the room. Finally he managed to offer an explanation,
“You… d- do understand correctly. The UN has a mission of diplomacy to uphold as well as a mission of security. There are… concerns… given the timid nature of the Venlil, that interaction with UNSAC troops will destroy diplomatic progress.”
“How so?” questioned the Russian, “You stated earlier that an exchange program is underway. Those, uh, Ven-leel, will be dealing with humans, will they not?”
“They will, but those people have been carefully vetted and selected. They each possess certain traits and demeanors we expect will be compatible with the Venlil.”
A Chinese Spatial Warfare Group second officer interrupted this time, “How do you know we do not possess these traits?”
“Oh, well, it’s quite obvious…,” the presenter trailed off at the abrupt understanding that most of the room was beginning to take offense. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and a bead of sweat formed above his brow. He took a half-step backward, possibly trying to give himself some comfort in the distance.
“You see, the Venlil view humans as predators due to our forward-facing eyes and sharp teeth. First-contact was a bit iffy, even with the contact party being trained scientists. You’re all the Venlil’s worst nightmare! A group of violent, meat-eating soldiers lacking in subtle compassion and-”
“Fuck this bullshit.” Ransom pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “We hain’t flown across space to be treated like a buncha jackasses! Ya brought us here for a job and now yer using the nature of that job to taunt us! What good was days of Venlil history, sensitivity training, and all this other nonsense if y’all are gonna keep us hidden away like some deep dark secret?”
Several other officers agreed with my second in command’s outburst and started to argue over each other at the now terrified UN presenter. I leaned back in my chair and sighed, watching the culmination of a month of stress and exhaustion begin to boil over. It was almost amusing at how much it seemed the nerdy United Nations subject matter expert regarded us all as potentially dangerous. For the sake of argument, we certainly can be, but it seemed public opinions on that fact were what really scared him.
Ransom put his hand on my shoulder and leaned down toward me, “Stop me if ya want to, James, but I’m outta here.”
Ransom headed for the door, followed closely by five others who seemed to agree with the sentiment. They were almost gone when the presenter finally found enough courage to say something.
“You can’t leave!” he shouted, “We need you, despite the restrictions- you’re vital to the success of this mission!”
The departing parties halted mere inches from escaping the conference room. They turned back toward the frantic UN representative, waiting patiently for him to qualify his statement. Ransom let go of the door handle and it slammed shut.
“Go ‘head then.” he drawled, “Tell us why we should stay. Tell us why we should accept all these restrictions.”
Tension hung in the air while the presenter thought over his next words carefully. He would need to make a compelling argument if he hoped to avoid causing a schism between the best special forces Earth could offer and the United Nations.
“We need you, because nobody else can do the job that you can. You’re the best experts humanity can offer, the only ones specializing in warfare both on the ground and in the vacuum. You’re the only ones who can bridge the gap between the technology we have now and the tech we will soon have.
Soon, humankind may be up against an alien threat beyond our reckoning. Each of you, and your men, will be instrumental in the coming war. However, our relationship with the Venlil is precarious. You must understand that we have to handle our assets delicately until we gain a stronger foothold and a better political standing.”
All eyes watched the man with inquisition etched in their expressions. Eerie silence filled the air, all the while the UN presenter was frozen in his spot, unmoving. I thought for a moment that he might keel over dead from fright if the lack of acknowledgement continued.
“Alright.” conceded Ransom at last, “Finish your boring goddamned presentation.”