Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 21, 2160
The rippling alarm sounded from my holopad, waking me up with some semblance of a normal routine. Virnt had worked tirelessly to adjust the sleep suite, in the hopes of stabilizing my sanity. The Tilfish had worked in the ability to be woken by touch or noises, since it was a problem that I was unwakeable with the press of a button. If there was an emergency or someone who needed to speak with me, I needed to be jolted out of my slumber without going into my code and halting the program. That was doubly true if I was to partake in diplomatic missions outside of Earth…something that might be a necessity should we continue to strike out with Shield members. Our plan, after the Duerten Forum, was to get a few parties with lesser influence on our side to go after the big fish.
I’d tried approaching several species alongside Kuemper: the Racads, a buffalo-like species with brown spots on their creamy hides. They’d been one of the voters for a military alliance with humanity long ago, to take on the Arxur. However, they were circulating absurd notions that we were releasing the Collective behind their backs; they’d already been none too pleased by the light punishment we selected for Isif’s fledgling nation. Our present coziness with carnivores seemed to make several Shield parties, that would’ve allied with us as total unknowns, gunshy about cooperating. I wasn’t sure I could convince even the Sapient Coalition to work with the Arxur, despite our losses.
Ironically, I’d venture the Duerten would be the most likely to accept Collective aid, since they partook in saving Kalqua alongside us. Getting the Forum to help might be the key to bring the Arxur into the fold.
However, Ambassador Korajan had been clear that the gray avians wanted no part in a war. The peculiar Ulven were next on our list, as I’d been quite intrigued by a shape that didn’t seem dissimilar to pigs—if pigs had short, prehensile trunk-like noses and koala-bear ears. They had been part of the group that voted for no contact with humanity, a substantial chunk of the Orion Arm that didn’t care what happened to us one way or another. They’d clearly had a change of heart about not interacting with us, since they had an embassy in Vienna. Much of the Shield had warmed to us since our cooperation in the Battle of Aafa, where the prey-hating Arxur and the Kolshian shadow caste fell to a combined onslaught. It still blew my mind to know that Isif led a rebellion, and that a secret conspiracy operated right beneath where Noah had given his speech.
The Ulven proved anything but warm to an in-person visit; I’d been a little taken aback when their ambassador said to my face, “Well, I guess we can’t even keep predators killed anymore.” She laughed like it was a joke, but I got the impression it was anything but. We were hurried out of the embassy after receiving a flat refusal. It’d caused me to question whether this plan, to send me on visits to our unallied neighbors, was a good idea at all. I walked over to the mirror, pulling my lips apart with my hands, and staring for what must’ve been minutes. The “teeth” were like dentures, lacking any nerves…or any need to brush them and rid myself of morning breath. Why even have a bathroom next to my quarters at all? Every fixture reminded me that I wasn’t human anymore.
“Do you remember how pain felt, robot?” I hissed at the mirror, punching the counter; the metal “knuckles” felt nothing, lacking any skin redness at all. “You ‘sleep’ with your eyes wide open. You don’t yawn, and your laugh—some prerecorded bullshit from a banquet back before first contact. Who are you even helping? I hate you!”
The Elias Meier knock-off’s face grew more emotional and distraught, but it wasn’t like I could shed any tears, even if I felt like it. I slumped over the sink, splashing water on my face; despite the fact there was no need for body temperature regulation. Virnt told me that everything I was feeling now was an emotional matrix, choosing what it thought a human would experience in response to brain patterns. I held my fingers close to my face, noticing how they’d traced Meier’s fingerprints meticulously into the tips of my digits. How did I know I was the only copy-and-paste version of myself? How did I know that I was truly the same person, when it was obvious everything else was so off?
A knock came from the door, a hesitant female voice. A real human: Erin Kuemper, who’d accepted me for reasons I couldn’t wrap my head around. Maybe it was a nice lie, believing that an old friend had come back. Elias Meier was never this volatile or easily lost to the dark thoughts that swirled in my head nonstop—that meant I wasn’t me.
“Elias? I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want to see this,” the Secretary-General called.
I forced a calm expression, trying to smooth myself over. “I’ll be right there. I’ve been looking over the files of each Shield species nonstop, trying to solve our dilemma. There’s not too many that let humans onto their worlds—only three, in fact. Therefore, my thinking was we go for—”
“The Leshee. I was thinking the same. They’ve fallen into a powerful role, with the Duerten Forum being a shell of its old strength. If we’re giving it a final shot to get through to the Shield, we have to prostrate ourselves before one of its top dogs.”
“Good. We’re on the same page; that’s why I always enjoyed working with you, Erin.” I strolled over to the door, and faked a smile. “I suppose we should get moving then.”
“Not so fast. It’s obvious you’re suffering quite a great deal in your…new body. You don’t have to do this, Elias. There’s no diplomat I trust more, but you’re under no obligation at all, especially when it might be best for your wellbeing to sit this one out.”
I shook my head rapidly. “Please, no: don’t take this from me. I only feel like myself when I’m helping humanity. It’d drive me even more mad to know Earth is in jeopardy, and I was doing nothing. I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m going to get a handle on it.”
“You really don’t know?” she chuckled. “Elias, you died. That changes a person. Then, to top it all off, you were resurrected twenty-four years in the future, without your consent. You just said you don’t feel like yourself, and how could you? No human has been where you are right now. We didn’t evolve for such a synthetic experience of the world.”
“I know that. It’s…hell, it’s truly hell. All of the little things I took for granted, never even thought about, are gone.”
Kuemper’s brows knitted with sympathy. “Would you like to talk about it? I can’t say I understand, but I’m here to listen.”
I lowered my head, avoiding her gaze. “Why are you treating me like I’m him? I’m not Elias Meier.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Why?! Why do you just accept that I’m Elias, when I’m zero percent human? I’m as good as a model predicting what he might say, not the real thing. I don’t have his body, his mind…”
“Are you familiar with the Ship of Theseus?”
“I believe so. The ship that has all of its original components replaced.”
“That’s right,” she affirmed. “Is it still the same ship? Or better yet, what if the original components are all used to make a new ship: is that more the Ship of Theseus than the original?”
“Erin, I appreciate your philosophical mind, but I don’t see the point.”
“Humor me.”
“If everything that made it itself is gone, then it’s no longer the Ship.”
“Precisely. Everything about physical Elias Meier that made you alive, that configured your brain a certain way, it’s a faded memory. There’s not a trace of it left in the body presently six feet underground.”
“So, as I simply pointed out, I’m dead.”
Erin wagged a finger. “No, you’re the new ship. Virnt took your original components and remade them down to the finest detail. You have everything that made Elias who he was, every part of him that mattered, from his soul to his mind…so you’re him, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I wasn’t remade with everything that matters. This isn’t the same body.”
The Secretary-General grinned, pointing to her face. “Neither is this. I’m a lot more wrinkly and decrepit than when you last saw me, but you still accept that I’m Erin Kuemper. You’d say I’m the same person as the seven-year-old who ran around telling everyone she worked for NASA; they just didn’t know it yet. My body is hardly the same as then.”
“That’s the natural progression of things, with aging and growth.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“This is a progression too. You wouldn’t consider someone with prosthetics to not be themself, and this is simply a full-body prosthetic. Skin and bone isn’t what makes us human. It’s about who we are.”
“Thank you,” I acknowledged. “I, um, needed to hear that. Now, I know you’re busy, so what did you call me for?”
Kuemper passed her holopad over, arching her eyebrows. “This military briefing I and the other SC leaders just received. I think you should see it.”
I seated myself on the edge of the bed, spinning the volume wheel glyphs for long enough to crank it up. A congregation of military generals from the world’s countries—a common sight ever since first contact, as extraordinary as it was when they all came together for that initial briefing—were reviewing intelligence information on a starmap. Though she had to be getting up there in years, I recognized the shrewd eyes of General Cora Jones, leading the briefing. The American spymaster had been one I worried about having free reign with vulnerable aliens, but it seemed she’d set her sights on ensuring the SC was never left in the dark again.
Jones’ irises gleamed, as she highlighted a section of the map inside of Paltan borders. “The Sapient Coalition has taken measures to prevent stealth travel through our space. One of those initiatives, as you’re well-aware, was to install permanent sensors in warp at undisclosed locations; needless to say, that project took a lot of resources to cast a wide enough net. However, several days ago, our sensors detected the movements of thousands of drones, Orionbound. The make was indistinguishable.”
“Our enemy? The one who killed the Sivkits?” I asked Kuemper in real time.
She nodded. “We believe so.”
The American military officer turned a solemn look toward the camera. “Our belief was that they followed our subspace trails, so we immediately placed Paltan assets on lockdown and notified UN reinforcements sent to the Sivkits’ aid. However, Drilvar, Jaur, and Takkan assets were tripped later, deeper into our terrain, suggesting they’ve broken into three vectors. And it also lends itself to the…self-evident theory that they know where the heart of our power lies. They must have more intel about us than we realized.”
Murmurs spread through the delegates, as a Yotul islander spoke up. “That would mean Earth, Skalga, and Leirn are in imminent danger. We should lock down all non-essential travel, and widen the net of FTL disruptors flung far out: we can’t let them get near.”
“In my opinion, Onso, all Sapient Coalition members should be prepared. They could also try to take out what they perceive as our weakest links, but we see them coming. With disruptors, we can make it much more of a slog to get into our systems, as you suggested. That’ll acquire vital time to acquire intel on them and their capabilities, and send overwhelming reinforcements to arrive before they do.”
My mind was torn back into memories of how powerless I felt, watching Earth succumb to an extermination fleet that far outmatched it. The cold anger that had gripped me, as I realized my desperate efforts hadn’t been enough to save my home and my species; the magnitude of the death toll had weighed on my conscience even after we drove them off. Looking back with clear eyes, I thought about how I’d tipped off the Arxur to the undefended worlds, in the hopes Kalsim would turn his fleet around with the promise of mutually assured destruction. Humanity lived because I parlayed with Isif, yet that didn’t ease the burden of guilt…knowing how many innocents died on our attackers’ worlds as well.
There is a great deal of blood on my hands; I didn’t see another way, with no one to turn to but the Arxur. I hope that more species come to our aid this time, because the Sapient Coalition needs to stick together. Humanity shouldn’t ever again have to pick who lives and who dies.
Cora Jones continued her briefing, forcing me to refocus. “It is imperative that we don’t release this information in a way that incites panic. We are handling the situation, and simply want to prepare them, so they are equipped for whatever may or may not happen.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to tell Ivrana?” a Bissem general scoffed from the crowd, eyes narrowed in disgust. “I just got word from Tassi we’re hosting Sivkit refugees, which could make us a prime target. We’d need someone to defend Bissemkind.”
“That’s quite magnanimous of you to take in Sivkits, General Naltor, but I sincerely doubt Ivrana is a target—unless they have evidence that you’re a carnivore. I base that claim on the fact that they seemingly slaughtered the Osirs, but even that may have been complicated. Suffice to say, I will keep an eye on your system and ensure we have assets nearby.”
“What do you mean about the Osirs being ‘complicated?’” Onso yowled from the audience. “It’s a little late to change your story. You have millions of them already under development, and you don’t have your facts straight.”
“The matters that I have to share next don’t leave this room. It’s come to our attention that the Sivkits were traveling to the…specific planet because they believe it is their homeworld, Tinsas. We’re uncertain how they got this information, since it wasn’t in the Archives.”
The Paltan leader cleared his throat. “The Federation didn’t go out that far.”
“Or so we thought. Beyond the obvious questions of what regions they tampered with, it means we can’t rule out Federation involvement in any of this. The planet is a high-priority investigation for Project Chronicle, to verify whether this story is true. Our enemies might be aware of the fate the world suffered…for all we know, Sivkits survived there, and that’s who we’re fighting. It’d explain how they know where to look…and that theory suggests they may target the founding members who wronged them.”
“Sivkits? Skittish, unintelligent Sivkits, attacking with that kind of weaponry?” a disbelieving Mazic President Quipa called out.
“You think their targets are the founders? I won’t send resources to help the Kolshians and Farsul,” Venlil Governor Laisa scoffed, earning agreement from several others.
The Krakotl ambassador squawked in alarm, with a sudden realization. “We are considered a founding race! You said there were three vectors.”
It was a bit jarring for me to see one of the blue avians as part of humanity’s alliance; apparently, the United Nations had supported a separatist faction after the war. Learning that the Krakotl had been the first victims of the Federation—the first omnivores converted, in a cultural genocide that chilled my wires when I learned of it—created a schism on Nishtal. I wondered if I might’ve tried to bargain with them differently, had I known before the Battle of Earth. To think the species that decided we needed to be exterminated once ate fish themselves: it was a tragedy that they were brainwashed into such hatred. Our relations could’ve been different in another reality, but it was good to see they’d made amends via the SC.
If Jones is right about this being a hit job on the Federation founders, over a grudge that’s festered for years, that could destroy Nishtal all over again. I don’t want that to happen, just like I didn’t when Earth was under siege.
“That sounds like a plausible explanation,” I told Kuemper, pausing the video. “We can’t let Nishtal be destroyed again.”
The Secretary-General frowned. “We only just rebuilt their homeworld. I didn’t preside over that only to watch it burn to the ground all over again. Their species is on a precarious enough perch as is, with how many died to the raid and upheaval. But we don’t know the target for sure, so we can’t leave our closest allies undefended: it’s a catch-22.”
“The Coalition needs to band together. I agree that we can’t take any risks with Earth, but with 82 members, surely we can disperse their combined forces across a few likely targets.”
“Our generals are trying to do just that. I fear we’re fighting another war across the entire Orion Arm…and another one where ‘war crimes’ aren’t even taken into consideration. Quite simply, we need more ships. I don’t know how you did this.”
“Many sleepless nights,” I admitted. “Our buoys can continue to track them. Shit, why can’t we intercept their course?”
“They’re flying in an erratic pattern, so it’s not so simple to tell their destination. We’ll be watching if any more buoys are tripped, since we have them all over our territory. Speaking of which…you might want to see the last point on Jones’ agenda.”
I groaned. “There’s more?”
“I’m afraid so.”
General Jones raised her hands as I unpaused the video. “We have taken Nishtal’s vulnerability into consideration, and will work on contingency plans to ensure the Krakotl race is not a soft target. We’ll be in touch with all SC members to share our plans on where you can help out. However, there’s another matter I must bring to your attention. I ask you to…temper your reactions; we don’t need another war right now.”
“What other war?” the suspicious Thafki representative piped up. “What did the grays do? They’re the only ones with enough power that you wouldn’t be able to squash them, and that’s your fault!”
“It is about the Arxur, but we’re monitoring them as promised. The subspace sensors on our border with the Collective were set off a few days ago as well. Their pathing is much less evasive than our unknown friends. They seem to be heading for Apep, the Osirs’ homeworld, if my vectors are right.”
“Of course they want to have fellow hunters to join them as they terrorize the galaxy! Why would you tell those monsters?!”
“We didn’t tell the Arxur Collective a thing about this war, or the Osirs’ extermination.”
“Then who fucking did?” the Thafki whirled around, pointing a paw at the Bissem delegation. “Traitors! It was you! We should’ve never let you inside our doors.”
General Naltor scoffed. “How could we have contacted them? You’re just being racist because we’re carnivores.”
I huffed in open frustration, irritated that the Arxur had complicated this high-stakes war even further. Now, it was imperative that we find a way to make the Sapient Coalition, and potentially the Shield, accept the Collective’s aid. We did need more ships on our side, so if we could direct the carnivores to places that would take their help…it might not be a complete disaster. However, their breach of quarantine could kill our chances of turning any of the Shield or Federation remnants to our side. We needed to get ahead of this, before any of them got wind of it through other means. News of drones entering our territory might give us an opening with the Leshee, and it could at least catch Ambassador Korajan’s attention too.
“We’re going to see the Leshee. Right now,” I said to Kuemper, not wanting to waste any more time. “Let’s see if Korajan is willing to join our meeting as well. He could put in a good word for us…and for cyborg Elias Meier.”
The Secretary-General smirked. “Two steps ahead of you. Already scheduled a meeting with both of them in an hour. Who do you think I learned from?”
“I’d say you learned well, Erin. It’s time we get moving.”
I hustled out of the Terra Technologies outpost, knowing I wouldn’t get winded by the quick pace. Kuemper beckoned to her security detail, who were hovering outside with some apprehension: clearly, they weren’t comfortable leaving Earth’s current leader with the robotic mind-replica of a dead friend. That was a definite security risk, though I was glad she didn’t seem to care. It gave me purpose, and a serious distraction, to travel around on humanity’s behalf. After everything we just learned, the urgency of our diplomatic mission had just multiplied tenfold. With enemy ships having entered our space, we had to assemble as many allies as possible all over again.