“Run.”
The word stopped all conversation. This was supposed to be a meeting of allies, a time of strategy development and support for like-minded friends.
The speaker stood, “Members of the Alliance, in good conscience, I cannot permit this to continue. I have rather a lot more intelligence than any of you. It is not new intel, but rather the stories of our precursor species. I was raised among their ruins, I traced their lost language with my fingers long before we decrypted it. What I have just learned changes everything.” He looked down at the shorter and hairier Xeno sitting in shock beside him.
“Tell them what you have told me. The exact words.”
A little flustered the creature began, “Well…I’ll try and be exact. One of our probes found a small world, a colony perhaps but an old one. It sat in magnificence! There are no mines, no harvesting, and even the asteroid cloud was pristine. The buildings…I have only seen the reports but they are things of beauty. It seemed to have no military and little shipping. I confess that our people might have overreached but we wanted that world, we wanted those people. We sent a fleet, just a small one, to invite them to join our Confederacy. It has not returned and we can’t find it.” He looked up at his taller neighbour, “I was just looking for help in the search.”
The tall Xeno seemed to sniff, “I said exact. What banner did they carry?”
“I showed you, a green background with some kind of goddess on it. Nothing special, the planet is a beautiful marble of green and blue.”
The taller Xeno looked at the meeting, now all wondering what the hell was going on. “I am merely an Admiral, an advisor to this august body but I can tell you we will never see that fleet again.” He pulled up his comms and searched for a moment. Satisfied he pushed an image onto the main screen.
There was no colour, just a design hastily carved into the weathered rock. It was a rectangle with an inverted triangle in the middle. The left side of the triangle was shaped like a humanoid while lines cut down through the triangle. Some odd protuberances broke the shape into a clearly organic object.
“You have attacked them.”
The confusion grew deeper but he now had the committee's full attention. The chairman spoke up, “Forgive my ignorance but I don’t recognise the symbol. A little clarity perhaps?”
The admiral nodded and pulled back the image. It was obviously some ancient and fallen stronghold, now mostly shattered rock and melted earth filling the screen. “We only know them as the ‘Rish’, and we saw what they did to our world. Some of our chroniclers speak of a people that,” he looked down at the Xeno beside him, “tried to invite the Rish into their Empire. No doubt with a small fleet in the beginning. It ended with habitable worlds for thirty light-years melted back to bedrock. That empire left its dead to rot on the surface of my world, little known to any but a few historians. A few straggling survivors tried to leave us a warning, a lesson they learned the hard way. That symbol is carved over many of their monuments and on many of their sacred sites.” He focused on the broken glyphs beneath the symbol.
“It just says ‘Run’.”
----------------------
“So where did you send them?” Pantal asked, mildly curious.
At first glance, they would have passed for their ancestors, primates running around the savannas of Africa, figuring out how to sharpen sticks. It was really their eyes that looked strange, with pupils that seemed bigger and blacker than anything that could be created by mere biology. That and the fact that they were gently pushing an asteroid back into its customary position, newly repaired after its encounter with some unpleasant guests.
Aimon shrugged, “Oh, them. I posted them off to that world we went camping on a couple of aeons ago. See how they like spiders.”
That raised a smile from Pantal, “They haven’t been spiders for a long time…you taught them how to make fire remember? Eight-legged beasties with flaming torches and a short temper. I suppose they deserve it, trashing my rock garden like that.”
The two men stopped, satisfied with the orbit of the vast iron boulder. “Well, they shouldn’t come around here and start breaking things. This whole area went out of tune, it sounded like a toddler was hitting it with a hammer. Wretched trespassers!”
The two men began the short walk back to their homeworld, “What did they want anyway? They didn’t seem like the explorer types.” asked Aimon.
Pantal thought back, “Oh, just the usual ‘Join our gang or else, give me your lunch money!’ You know the type. I suppose we should be grateful that they weren’t some blasted machine plague. Those things get everywhere. I think I was picking them out of the walls for weeks, little self-replicating critters. I’m thinking about getting a cat for the next time.”
“Well I’ll make us some lunch and then maybe we should drop in on our new neighbours? Introduce ourselves sort of thing.”
“Sounds good. I think I have a ship in the garage somewhere, I’ll pull it out and give it a quick dusting. I don’t want to freak them out just yet.”
Aimons eyes flickered, somehow focusing outside of time itself. “I remember that thing. Wow, that's been a hot minute. Didn’t you melt the crap out of the place the last time we went out there?”
This time Pantal answered with a feral grin, “You have to leave them stories, a little mystery to spice things up. Anyway, I like landscaping and everyone should have a folly or two in their garden.” He looked up in memory, “We were younger then, full of piss and vinegar.”
Aimon shook his head, “They probably think some psychopath torched the whole place. You gave them nightmares, not stories.”
Pantal laughed, “A little healthy mystery and a big hint that they might not be alone. How long were we looking for life out here? It's boring and sad. Much more fun to know that there are other people out here.”
“Scary people, at least after you were finished.”
Aimon waved at the village, “We are scary. The universe is scary. We beat all the filters by millimetres at times. A hundred years one way or another and boom…all our ancestors could have gone splat.”
Patal began throwing lunch together, “Fine. I guess that makes us a filter now. I’m not sure we ever considered a little trespassing and light vandalism such a potentially species-ending event.”
Aimon reached for a plate, “Like I said, scary.”
------------
The Alliance was now busy dredging through ancient texts from their own homeworlds, looking for anything that resembled the odd design that had so frightened one of their most solid and capable members. The search for the missing fleet had been unceremoniously halted and local forces alerted to watch the skies.
Some of the members were covertly studying the targeted colony and coming to the same conclusion that the unfortunate Fleet had. A lovely, pristine world without so much as a starbase or satellite to protect it. Perhaps while everyone was panicked by ancient ghosts they could go and look…
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“Sir, a ship has entered our space. It's not slowing down and it is refusing to identify itself. The border fleet is converging on it now.”
The Admiral frowned, “Is this related? Or is this just some smuggler caught up in the search?”
“Sir, it’s carrying that banner.” He put up a blurry shot of a vast silver vessel with a flag visible on the engine housing. A green rectangle with a golden triangle in the centre. Too out out-of-focus for clarity yet but undeniably there. The Admiral hesitated. Should he allow the ships to try and intercept it or call them back?
“Tell the border guards not to open fire unless they are actually threatened. Continue to demand ID and destination and get these scans to Intel immediately. I don’t want them going missing as well.”
------
Aimon was humming to himself as he swept up the dust of ages, “I never know where all this blasted rubbish comes from! I’m sure I sealed it up properly.”
Pantal sipped at his cup of tea, “That wasn’t exactly yesterday. Stuff starts falling apart after a few thousand years, even for us. I don’t think you should be worried about impressing our visitors anyway.” He expanded his view of the following ships, “They’re still squeaking at us. Should I have a chat?”
Aimon wiped his hands, “I suppose you should, I mean we are here to complain about their trespassing, it would be silly to do it ourselves. Tell them where we are going and that we want to speak to their grown-ups.”
------
“Sir, the ship has responded. Translating now.”
The Admiral read the message with disbelief. “Is this accurate?”
“As accurate as we can make it. The dialect is ancient, in fact, if you hadn’t pointed out the symbol we would probably still be trying to figure it out.”
The Admiral turned to the Committee and waved for silence, “I have a message from the aliens.” He paused, feeling slightly ridiculous, “It says, and I’m quoting here: To the unpleasant trespassers and vandals, please assemble whatever intelligent leadership that your species might possess and prepare for our arrival.”
Of course, there would be one. There’s always one. The Escort Company of the Sedentine Republic neither understood nor agreed with allowing some rude and unknown alien to approach their ambassador with obvious malice, certainly not just because of some obscure fairy tale. The Commander ordered his ships to intercept and demand the alien stand down and prepare for boarding.
Pantal finished his tea and watched them arrive. “Aimon, this one is up to you. It’s your ship after all.”
Aimon stopped polishing things and looked around. “Oh blast.” He opened comms with the oncoming ships, “Go away. We’ll be on your planet shortly and you can say your piece then.”
Pantal heard some more squeaking responses and then Aimon seemed to have had enough. “Fine, be that way. Tell your friends I said hello.”
His eyes grew darker until you were convinced that you could see the glint of distant stars hidden within. He muttered something and the ships were gone.
Pantal raised his eyebrows briefly, “Spiders?”
Aimon nodded his confirmation, “Spiders.”
--------
“Sir! Eight of our ships just blinked out…we can’t find them. No distress calls, no weapons fire, just gone.” He looked at his screen, trying to find some solution to the mystery but was just left to say again, “Gone!”
The Admiral watched as two council guards wrestled one of the committee members to the ground as incoherent screeching filled the room. He focused on the task at hand, “Tell the border guards to fall back. Send messages to all our allies to prepare for the possible extinction or disappearance of the Council leadership. Alert our ground forces to prepare to move on the council buildings if required. May we have better luck than our ancestors”
The vast silver ship descended soundlessly to hover over the council buildings. Rapid police action cleared most of the local population into the underground transport tunnels and sealed the street. Thousands huddled in shivering fear as whispered warnings and old tales spread through the population. News drones filled the sky, occasionally bumping into each other as they searched for the best angle. Several inexplicably fell to the ground when they somehow offended the ship.
There was no shuttle, no dramatically opening door, just Aimon and Patal still wearing their gardening clothes and standing on the road leading to the Capital Building. Aimon looked down and cursed. His feet had begun sinking through the plascrete and he had to awkwardly drag them out and reset his mass. He scowled at Pantal, “Don’t laugh.”
Pantal looked supremely indifferent to the mishap but they both knew it would become a joke for the ages. “Shall we go? I don’t want to be here all day.”
Aimon nodded, still a little flushed, “Yes, of course.” He took a breath, “Mind you, there's no great rush and their gardens are quite nice. I may take some clippings if they don’t object.”
Pantal grinned, “And if they do?”
That was left to fall into silence as the two meandered towards the meeting.
--------
“Sir, two aliens are approaching the building.”
The Admiral said nothing as the Commander of the Council police took control, “Are you sure it’s them? Only two?”
The guard had seen the drone footage of the strange footprints, “Yes sir. They don’t appear to be armed…in fact, sir, they look rather ordinary. One of them keeps stopping to poke at the flowers.”
The Commander ran this through his so far utterly useless Intel. It certainly didn’t seem like a horde of rampaging monsters. Perhaps they didn’t need to look like monsters but that neatly gave him an excuse. He walked quickly to the chairman, “Sir, this looks like diplomacy to me. That's not in my job description. I think it's your turn.”
The Chairman wasn’t impressed, “Really? And what will you do if I suddenly disappear?”
The Commander straightened up and saluted, “I’ll try and arrest them for kidnapping. Sir.”
“Then you will escort me to the entrance and we will welcome in our strange guests.”
The commander got the message. You’re going down with the ship whether you like it or not.
“I’d be honoured, Chairman.”
The Guards on the door were both in their usual ceremonial uniforms and stared unblinking into the middle distance with weapons locked and stowed. Whatever was passing through their minds is best left to their therapists. The police Commander was similarly still except for his gaze as it flickered around the arriving aliens. The Chairman had no such training and was twitching with nervous energy.
In the Council chamber, the doors were being held securely by the guards. The bathroom facilities were under heavy demand and were currently surrounded by some increasingly furious members.
The two humans figured the nervous one was in charge. They always looked like that for some reason. Aimon was feeling a little more generous to anyone that created such gardens so he gave him a little wave. Patal snorted, “Big scary alien remember?”
“I’ve got you for that. Come on, I want to get home soon.”
Without much fanfare, they followed the Chairman into what was obviously supposed to be an impressive room. Aimon detested what he called ‘pompous tat’ and this was a room full of it. Fine, he wasn’t here for the interior design.
They walked to what was clearly the speaker's platform and Patal begin. “I’m going to keep this short. You send a fleet into our garden and trashed some very expensive furniture. Then you demanded we join your silly empires. Even your traffic police were rude to us. You obviously know where we live now and I expect you to behave accordingly. In the future, you may send a single ship if something arises that you feel you must share. I don’t recommend you do it lightly since I’m all out of goodwill just at the moment.” He felt that he had said what he needed to say and gestured to Aimon.
The Chairman took the moment to interrupt, “I can only apologise, such behaviour is not encouraged among our Alliance. I can only offer you my sincerest regrets. Perhaps you could introduce yourselves? I’m afraid we only have half-forgotten tales of the Rish, a people that carried the same banner as your ship. And perhaps you could tell us what happened to the misfortunate ships that seem to have vanished? I can assure you that no ship from here will ever enter your garden uninvited again.” That was met with loud agreement from the chamber.
Aimon was feeling a little better. A good walk always had that effect on him, “The who? Oh, yes, well not quite. It's an Irish flag, we are citizens of that nation. You probably messed up the pronouns in your translation. As to those ships, I sent them on a little trip. It's actually quite a nice place if you don’t upset the wildlife. They could be back in…” He whispered a question to Patal and got an answer…” about thirty of your local years if they don’t hang around. No time at all.” Patal gave him a nudge, “Stories remember?”
Aimon nodded. “Oh yes.” He looked at the Chairman and raised a hand, “You lot are always changing so I‘m going to leave you a little souvenir of our meeting and our warning. Just so you don’t forget.” He reached down into the bedrock far below the building and raised up a pillar that swiftly pierced the floor and continued to rise until it shattered a chandelier that he felt was particularly ugly. Carved deep into the rock was the banner that had them all terrified and a simple message:
NO TRESPASSING
Patal nodded and stepped beside Aimon, “Nicely done. Let's go home, I need a nap.” With that, they vanished.
Chronicles of the Fall of the First Alliance
And so it came to pass that the I’rish vanished, leaving their warning for all to read and a vast shadow over the city. As time passed the people left, unwilling to live with such strangeness. The Capital building fell into ruin as no government could function with the accursed rock watching over them. Others took guard on the border and swore oaths to leave the strange creatures in peace for the good of all. Soon the planet fell to small communities that worshipped only their gardens and did not seek space nor the strangers therein…
Several centuries passed as the planet gradually emptied and flowers and brambles filled the forsaken buildings.
From the garden came cursing, “Patal, where the hell did I park that damned ship?! It's not in any of my sheds!”