Date: PST 9 (Post Stasis Time)

I held my head in my paws, forlornly looking at the report in front of me. Disaster, absolute disaster. I sat in my office, the finery of the rooms given to me as elected leader of the Quoxxett Republic was useless. Every campaign promise, every plan, every potential future: All of it now nothing but ash against what was to come.

"It has a fatality rate of 100%, as soon as it infects the plant it will die in less than a week. Nothing we've come up with so far works on curing it. Even worse, the spores it leaves behind are basically impervious to all known pesticides and other methods of control. Basically as soon as a crop is infected, that plot can no longer grow Jwangu Nuts."

I looked up as Oger, the current minister for agriculture, explained what the report had already written down. I could see looked exhausted, fur matted and knotted together, paws being wrung together while his tail drooped. I’d seen this man stand up to the most rigorous of questioning in parliament, rising through the political system without ever faltering. But now he looked broken. Frankly I didn’t blame him, this was a near absolute worst case scenario.

We are the Quoxxett, a species of brown furred rodents, standing at a whole 2ft tall. On a galactic scale we weren't really special. Spread over three systems, we had enough technology to stop anyone from easily subjugating us, we had a few areas of simple trade with some of our neighbours: Mostly exporting civilian FTL vehicles and a few cultural entertainment exports. There are over 31 thousand confirmed sapient species in the galaxy, and there are only so many ways evolution can create a small mammal. Rather simply we had nothing special about us.

Apart from one unfortunate fact: we also had a monotrophic diet: Something about the Jwangu Nut was required in our diet, in high qualities. Sure we could “eat” most things, for flavour or temporary energy, but without the single crop we depended on you’d quickly starve. Up until now that hadn't been a problem, as the three systems we had colonised all took nicely to growing the crop.

Until now.

It was just me and Oger in the room. Nobody else, if people knew how bad it could be, we’d lose control of all semblance of society and civilization. We couldn’t keep it hidden for long, but we hoped we’d be able to provide a solution, a positive way forward, some hope. We had only spotted the nearly undetectable fungal infection a month ago, but what had started out as a minor increase in food prices was quickly turning into a shortage.

"How much of the current crop is uninfected?" I asked the question, hoping it was something we could contain.

"Basically Zero. We've managed to quarantine some of the uninfected crop, but we're talking enough to feed maybe thirty thousand at most. The main issue is finding uninfected places to grow it."

Thirty thousand... We had a population of fifteen billion.

"Give me options, and please make some of them good."

Oger gave a sigh of defeat in response, bag under his eyes and a mat glossless fur suggesting he’s not slept properly for the last two weeks.

"There are alternatives to buy on the Galactic market. We do not have the funds however to feed the current population with that. The Federation is being the Federation, a debate has been scheduled to whether there should be a debate regarding our plight. That is scheduled for a month's time. The Estorian Empire has offered to-"

"No." I interrupted that option. The Estorian empire was a coalition of 5 wardriven nations. Each one considers all other species nothing more than sub-sapient tools for whatever desires they have. Each one is terrible in their own way. I knew what their help would entail: Becoming one of the many subjegated species under their control, shipped off our planets and forced to become slaves and a new race of playthings for them to break.

"If we ration and pour everything we have into it, we might be able to feed half a billion, a billion if we're lucky."

Leaving 14 billion to starve to death over the next 6 months. Not including the panic and riots this would cause as soon as this information left the room. Maybe making a deal with the Estorian empire would be the best decision, considering that their systems would be easy pickings for them anyway as they collapsed under this strain. At least this way most people would live.

I never had to make my terrible choice however, because at this moment the door to the room slammed open with a sudden bang, as the Minister for Defense came barreling into my room in a panic. Even though Vigoki was far more put together than poor Oger, the absolute worry being emitted from his person was just as great.

"I know you said not to be interrupted, but it is an emergency. There's a Terran invasion fleet! Just outside our space!"

Confusion entered my mind from this sudden change of situation, struggling to keep up with this sudden switch from a sombre panic into a more frantic one. I just sat there, silently, hoping that this was the most mistimed joke ever told.

That wasn't to be the case however, as Vigoki slammed a few buttons on the room's GalNet connector, causing an image to appear on the screen in front of us; a grainy picture from one of our recon probes.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

That was a lot of ships. That was a lot of heavily armed ships.

The Terrans were a new addition to the Galactic community, a race of primates, mostly an unknown. While they had called out to the universe with peaceful intentions, they also had the potential to be the most dangerous. They brought with them AI, and everyone knew Zarith's law: All AI were xenocidal.

It would only be a matter of time before the Terrans imploded, as their AI decided to destroy their creators. We weren't as stupid as the Hatil to actively start a war with the apes,so instead we'd simply rejected any attempts at integration or communication.

Until now it seems. I should have felt fear or terror, but instead I just felt… Numb. I'd just learned that my entire species was about to starve to death, an AI lead warfleet on our borders… Might as well happen I guess.

"They've been sitting there for the last 30 minutes, hailing us during that time. No clue why."

That… was strange. On the one paw, the reason why they were here was obvious, with that many guns they were clearly invading, using our upcoming food shortages against us. On the other paw however, strategically just attacking would make more sense.

"What would a conflict look like for us?" I asked, knowing the answer but wanting a confirmation.

"Honestly? Bad. While we could repel the force they've brought, we'd lose the Azora system at the very least, and we know the Terrans would have more waves incoming. With our upcoming… Issues, while we could hurt them, actually defending would be impossible."

The information from Vigoki made more sense. They were probably here to negotiate our surrender. Bringing enough forces to cripple us, but not deploying more resources then required.

"Patch their hails through to this room. I'll see what they want."

It took only a moment before the screen changed to show a presumably male Terran, weird hairless pain skin and all, only a tuft of brown fur on the top of his head. As a species they weren’t exceptional, but biology didn’t matter when a warfleet was bearing down upon my people. He gave what the translator describes was a warm smile before starting to speak.

"This is Captain Walker, of the Terran Conclave. I bid you a fair greetings and hope your-"

"Just cut to the chase." I interrupted the Terran, annoyance surging through me. Possibly not the best or most diplomatic approach, but frankly I didn’t care. We were already in a terrible position, both sides would know this. There was no need to pretend that we could do anything about what was going to happen "Why are you here, and what are the terms you require for surrender?"

There was an awkward pause. No terms of engagement or demands came through, just a confused look running over Walker’s features. There was a moment as the communication went silent as he seemed to talk with someone off screen, the translator attached on our end helpfully reading the Terran’s lips, decoding the words ‘Translator’, ‘working?’ and ‘Are you sure?’

Eventually the audio cut back in as Walker turned to face me once more, confusion still evident.

"Surrender? For what? This is a diplomatic and humanitarian call. What do you think this is?"

I could feel the annoyance course through me, how stupid did did this ape think I was? They had brought an armada to my doorstep, then was pretending this was a friendly visit?

"Really? You brought enough weapons to fight god and you expect me to believe that you come in peace?"

"I told you this was overkill, that we'd scare them".

The voice came from off screen, another Terran talking in a gloating whisper. Walker seemed to glare at someone else in the room, giving a shushing motion before turning back to me.

"I apologise for the confusion, the last diplomatic envoy we sent, the Hatil blew up. We may have… over compensated. This is entirely diplomatic in nature, I assure you."

"Then what do I owe the pleasure" I struggled to keep my voice cordial, no point in antagonising the crazy apes who thought I’d believe they brought guns to a ‘friendly chat’. Still, whatever game they were playing, it was probably better to play along rather than trigger a plan B invasion.

"You submitted a plea for help with the federation, regarding your food issues. Since they don’t seem to be doing anything, we decided to… intervene.” Walker responded simply, as if what he was saying was the most obvious thing in the world. “On Earth we have a similar crop that we believe may be compatible with your species. We've brought enough to feed an estimated 20 billion population in the short term, along with supplies to provide a sustainable long term farming base, this should-"

"Holy shit is that what they look like!"

The unknown Terran voice interrupted Walker, the sound broadcasting through our communication channel from an unknown location, causing the Captain on my screen to freeze in shock.

"They're like little beaver hamsters. Look at its little grabby hands and adorable little eyes. I love it and I want to hug one!"

There was a pause, a brief moment where the Terran just looked horrified, mouth agape, before the clear anger and rage started to set in. His skin turned an impressive shade of red, eyes widening and nostrils flaring as he clenched his teeth as he spoke once more.

"Jessica! Your comms are live! Everyone can hear you, including the Quoxxett leader. We will talk about this later but shut up, shut up, shut up!"

There was a momentary pause as nobody dared to talk, not anyone on our side or theirs, before the voice returned once more, quieter, meeker.

"Whoops, sorry. Accident."

Walker gave a deep breath, his posture relaxing once more as he addressed us directly.

“I am so sorry about that. But to finish our general reason for being here: We have a solution to your food crisis.”

I had by this point resigned to accepting the Terran's help. Even if it was a long term trick, what other choice did I have: Let billions starve instead? Get into a hopeless war with a stronger force? Hopefully they would want less than the Estorian's did.

"What do you want for this?" I asked it simply, resigned to our fate.

"Nothing."

I frowned for a moment. That couldn’t be right. They could ask for anything, demand any price. Heck they could ask for anything just to avoid them attacking us, let alone if their claims of aid are correct. There would be nearly no price we wouldn’t pay.

"Sorry, our translators must be out of date. Can you repeat that?"

Walker gave a shrug in response, almost looking confused at my retort.

"Nothing. Free. This is a humanitarian mission by the Terran Conclave. There is no cost. We have no desire to see an entire species starve."

I put my head in my paws again and gave a deep sigh before responding once more. Were they really suggesting that this was being done completely out of the goodness of their hearts, for no reason?

"You don't have to slow roll us. We clearly have no other options. Is this occupation? Vassalage? Debt Bondage? What are your terms?"

With that the Terran gave a small laugh, before giving me another large warm smile.

"Can’t it just be a gift? A gift towards a future partnership? For two species against a cold universe? For a new friend?"