Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison
Date [standardized human time]: September 26, 2160
Camera drones surveyed the system, admiring the devastation wrought across swaths of space. The FTL disruptors might’ve bought us precious months to prepare for a defense, but eventually, the enemy broke through—snuffing out enough FTL disruptors to make incremental progress, and slogging their way into the planetary sector. The Farsul homeworld, as projected on our prior intelligence briefings, had been the first to meet our unknown nemesis. The United Nations had locked the region by Talsk’s Kessler Cage down, standing against the would-be murderers with thousands of drones. The humans were crafty devils, and had laid down a multitude of traps to fend off the automatons…but machines saw through such schemes better than crewed vessels.
I hadn’t known what to think when the two sides traded blows. Sure enough, Kaisal had brought his forces gunning to the fray, finding a microscopic backdoor left for Sapient Coalition allies; the Terrans had balked when Arxur forces warped into Talsk’s vicinity, with two ceremonial ships at the front displaying the banner of the Collective. The icon being an Arxur skull, with a sword through its nearest eye socket, wasn’t reassuring anyone that the cannibals had changed that much. I supposed a kinder interpretation would be that it was symbolic of the rebellion, slaying Betterment officials, and that…at least it wasn’t showing dead prey animals? It certainly didn’t play well to the SC audience, who’d been in an uproar at their arrival.
And none of it was enough to stop bombs from peppering down on the Farsul. Granted, humanity took measures to evacuate a number of civilians to a different location—where they’re also imprisoned, but somewhere the enemy wouldn’t know to track them down. What if that makes the United Nations a target next?
“As you all know, the Sapient Coalition needs to hold a full review of what happened at Talsk.” Venlil Governor Laisa had taken command of the meeting; while the Venlil Republic were humanity’s closest allies, they had no love lost for the Farsul or the Arxur. That made them less of a public enemy, even if they were mere vessels to facilitate the UN’s message. “It wasn’t a surprise that the Arxur breached quarantine, might I remind you. Nor is this the first time the grays rode in to fight on humanity, or a prey world’s, behalf. We needed their aid once to fight the Kolshians, and after how our forces fared alone, I’m not sure we can afford to refuse their help.”
Mazic President Quipa seemed incensed by the Venlil’s suggestion. “That’s rich of you, coming from Tarva’s political party. We have respect for humans, don’t get me wrong, but you welcome them, bulldozing your own ways. Skalga doesn’t push back against any of their political plays. You eat every word and thought straight from their hands! There’s a difference between being their ally, and being their vassal.”
“You are out of line, insulting us and the United Nations. How dare you make insinuations about the special bond that our neighbor worlds share?”
“We strongly disagree with how you’ve turned a blind eye to the Arxur; you think we don’t remember how Tarva piped up in favor of that Isif character, at our founding Summit? That you changed the story right now, from how the grays only fought on our side for a small portion of the Battle of Aafa? This is all some ploy to get the Collective into the Sapient Coalition—and the Mazic Presidium will not work alongside monsters!”
“You’re not getting out of this, Quipa! What did you mean about us being the United Nations’ vassal?”
“You know, Laisa! Skalga has the highest human population of any Sapient Coalition world. You’re the only alien power that was given their own, secluded spot on Earth—”
“Really? This is about a tiny, gifted research island, which the United Nations gave us as a thank you for literally saving their species; for protecting them and giving them a chance when no others would?”
“Venlil Island is just one of many reasons you and the humans are much too intertwined to permit an independent decision. You’re not going to allow a voting bloc of nearly a hundred million Terrans to go to waste.”
Laisa pinned her ears back, a scowl creasing her face. “How dare you? You helped humanity build Libastion, their largest colony, and now, you’re acting like cohabitation outside of Earth is a bad thing? I thought in the Sapient Coalition, we agreed that humans are people—like any other aliens.”
“We do. That’s why they should have one vote, like every other species—not two. They aren’t our ‘predator masters.’ We don’t have to sit by and watch the Arxur disregard the authority of this institution; their debt to us isn’t something I’ll forget.”
“That’s enough!” Onso barked, storming up to the stage. “You want someone who will challenge humanity? The Technocracy is happy to take a critical approach to their present suggestions, and does not believe they’re above any of us. We have the military might to do better at the next contest, the one that actually matters: Nishtal.”
The Krakotl ambassador rose from her station, an irritated glint in her eyes. “Our home is on the line, and you’re bickering about islands and fucking Libastion. I say let the Yotul speak.”
The Venlil governor eyed the red-furred marsupial, as he sauntered onto the stage; Onso was wearing human-styled sunglasses on his forehead, like he never intended for them to cover his eyes. The two representatives studied each other, a staring contest that appeared to have some bubbling hostility. I wasn’t sure what the Technocracy was playing at, but they might have a shot to move the needle on the Arxur; their goal was simply to open the doors for trade purposes. Perhaps this was also a power grab, snatching a leadership role away from the Terrans. The Yotul had a formidable military to back any of their claims, and I still remember how Dustin suggested they had intelligence on SC members: rivaling Jones’ maneuvers.
Onso got the Bissems working for the Yotul a lot like Jones, come to think of it; both sides threatened us with revoking our SC membership. Of the two, I suspect the Yotul would be more likely to follow through on threats to bar us from the SC. For Hirs’ sake, I don’t want us to be beholden to anyone in that way! We need the Carnivore Alliance, whether I like it or not.
“The floor is all yours,” Laisa hissed at last, stepping away from the microphone.
Onso offered a sly ear flick, and strolled up to survey the crowd. “The Venlil think that we need the Arxur to win this war. If you want to have an educated discussion on that, we need a strategic review of exactly how it all played out. Our failings. Their capabilities. We must survey all of our options. Why don’t we save these discussions for after we review what happened at Talsk?”
“Very well. I’m listening,” Quipa sighed.
“As an engineer, we learn to look for structural weaknesses. Liquid armor, for instance, is single-use and unable to withstand applied amounts of direct, penetrative damage. Bullets can be deflected by the simple metal casing on a ship’s exterior, but we wanted their hull integrity obliterated. And that’s how the human-Yotul R&D teams came up with the idea of space harpoons. Let’s start from the top.”
Zalk and Naltor looked quite eager to take notes on SC weaponry, especially with the Sivkits and the Bissems now working together on Ivrana to engineer a new-fangled fleet. Ambassador Loxsel had talked about raising an army to retake Tinsas himself, if need be. With Bissems desperate for potent allies and the SC needing as many ships as possible, we’d managed to worm our way in on the action. I still wondered what the Grand Herd would think, had they been informed of our theory that the original Sivkits might be behind all of this. They were quite serious about reclaiming their homeworld, which meant they just might find out the hard way. The other Bissems didn’t seem worried about that, rather focusing on pitching the Technocracy on joint intelligence. I wasn’t particularly eager to listen to the specifics of battle plans and technobabble, so I found myself dwelling on what I’d learned about this Yotul—a Rinsian engineer.
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We dug into Onso, and found out that his best friend, to this day, is a human: one that he met through the Yotul-Terran exchange program. He had once reflected quite fondly on Earth’s foreign policy and way of life, one of many marsupials that used to be happy to partner with them. His species was exuberant that someone finally treated them as equals. Yet now, the UN and the Technocracy are tugging the SC in two polar-opposite directions.
I could still hear the Yotul’s reply, when I asked him what changed from back when he believed that humanity had the optimal path forward for the galaxy—one that offered a vast improvement from the methods of the Federation.
“They lost their way. They stopped being better,” Onso had answered. “They place no boundaries on the reach of their ‘progress,’ and they repeat mistakes of the past. They see this golden era of peace as their crowning accomplishment, and won’t make any waves for fear of undoing it. Now, they’re dragging other parties into this stagnant retention pond, pretending they don’t smell shit.”
The Yotul wanted the Sapient Coalition fully cleansed of the Federation’s residue, whereas humanity was terrified of losing their friends. I disagreed that the Terrans had stopped being better than the old regime, by virtue of how completely fucking maniacal the Kolshian-Farsul conspiracy was, but I saw why both sides were jockeying for more power. I hated being used and caught in the middle, however; there was too much politicking and scheming involved to fit my fantasy of friendship with aliens. Maybe there was still part of the United Nations that wanted to make waves, if they’d pushed a little to bring Bissems into the Sapient Coalition. Of course humanity couldn’t abide their allies not fully accepting predators—that was a sticking point for them.
“—the estimated numbers in their offensive had always been 150,000 strong. We knew from the engagement at Tinsas that they’d have a better turning radius than our standard ship models, so we predicted that smaller, faster-moving defensive weapons would be ideal,” Onso was saying in the present time, tapping a simulated visual of the outer edges of Talsk’s system, at the time of the enemy’s initial entry. “They might’ve spit asteroids at us, but we had a different idea. Using projected arrival times, we set canons by Talsk’s sun—days of travel away—to fire tungsten rods across their paths. They deployed solar sails behind them to accelerate efficiently, and without leaving any propulsion signature for advance warning. Also, as a bonus, they’re not a large rock that can be seen miles away. There’s your space harpoons.”
Recreations of enemy drones showed blisteringly fast rods impaling into them by probability. Their algorithms reacted much like they had with nanodrones—by sweeping dust guns in front of them to torch any invisible, devastating projectiles. Energy weapons followed up with a few volleys to ensure that any incoming tungsten munitions were destroyed. The Sapient Coalition had known the enemy would have these countermeasures, after they were deployed at Tinsas’ battle, but the constant rod barrage kept at least one of their weapons distracted: even if they still cleared the outer, icy bands of space. Depleting their available energy and microscopic particles gave us a small advantage to build upon. Then again, the casualty counts seemed an insignificant portion of their total offensive: perhaps a few hundred ships hindered by this attempt.
At least we had known the enemy drones’ exact position, and there was no element of surprise. The Yotul Technocracy and United Nations defensive line held about sixty-thousand ships, and waited to contest the hostiles in Talsk’s backyard. After how our allies had fared at a numerical disadvantage in their first conflict, their preparations needed to at least whittle down our foes’ count to be on an even footing. The rest of the SC—eighty other members—had only coughed up a few thousand ships combined, to keep up appearances of following the joint military defense pact. The vast majority of their aid had gone to Nishtal. It was the Terrans’ turn to cook up a trap, with the Yotul having played their Migration tokens; therefore, the cloaked stations, painted in super-black coloration to align with the void, decided to strike.
There were no cameras on the stations, to avoid standing out from the near-invisible object and revealing it. However, we had the humans’ data of the engagement; that was enough for Onso to recreate their powerful strike. While Earth might’ve been content to lie dormant, they were still artists of warfare, deviously creative in the field. While the enemy knew that invisible projectiles were coming from the sun, a nanodrone swarm zipping out from another angle would present a dual problem. The cloaked infrastructure waited until enemies were on their doorstep to strike; only as UN nanodrones zipped away did they reveal their true plan. The hidden outpost detonated a massive antimatter bomb lodged inside of it.
Shrapnel was hurled in every direction, a massive explosion consuming hundreds of enemies in its radius. I shuddered to imagine that such bombs had struck cities on Earth, and planets that the Arxur had raided. The raw power of the weaponry, tearing apart anything in its wake—a forceful thunderclap unleashed upon the hostiles—was something that terrified Bissems. If one of those reached our planet again, there would be nothing we could do; just as the Tseia had watched their settlements crumble long ago. At Talsk, not even our mysterious foes had an answer to the humans’ gigantic explosion, and that meant we’d scored a serious blow against these invaders at last. The hostile drones compensated quickly, firing out probing missiles for any additional stations that would wreak havoc…and finding the other one.
“The drone algorithms are well-programmed, so it’s likely that, if they can locate a countermeasure, we can only use a tactic once against them before they adjust,” Onso narrated. “We don’t know if the three prongs of their attack are coordinating, but our intelligence suggests the answer is no; we can’t pick up any communication signals. That also means that we cannot relay a message to whoever is behind this back at Tinsas, and implore them to call this off…though I doubt that’d be an option either way.”
The Gojid Prime Minister snorted. “It’s time to stop trying to talk. They have no intention of picking up the phone.”
“It’s never time to stop trying to talk, and I’d much rather resolve this dispute diplomatically than through armed conflict,” Secretary-General Erin Kuemper spoke up, from where she was conferring with Governor Laisa; Dustin mentioned that having the Venlil in our corner would be an “ace in the hole,” with their influence on the UN. Naltor had yet to concoct a plan to bring that about. “Whoever these aggressors are, they must believe we’re the Federation given their targets. They might hold a grudge for the atrocities committed against Tinsas. They’re lashing out, the same as when the Duerten demanded the shadow caste’s deaths—something many of you were very understanding of.”
“Humanity keeps saving every species that’s hurt us. You’re doing it again. Maybe we should’ve just let them have Talsk!” the Harchen ambassador piped up. “Why would you lose so many ships for them?”
“We saved species that hurt us, if you might recall. I believe the Harchen were among them, along with several others in this room. There’s power in mercy. Nobody else has to die, and that is humanity’s belief.”
The Thafki ambassador’s whiskers twitched angrily. “When your species is a delicacy, Madam Secretary-General, perhaps you’ll begin to come around to the idea that some monsters have done enough that they, in fact, have to die.”
“The same thing was said about humanity.” Zurulian Ambassador Chauson, who’d been friendly in our brief interactions, cast a stern glance at the crowd. His people had already welcomed Bissem doctors to train at the Galactic Institute of Medicine, and offered their pre-first contact research on our worst diseases; they were one of the most eager species to accept us. “Saving lives is much more fulfilling than condemning entire species to death. We, for one, are proud to stand behind the United Nations’ staunch anti-genocide policy, and unwavering application of our sapient rights’ articles.”
“The humans never did what the Arxur did to us.”
“And the United Nations, again, shouldn’t have a blanket veto power. The general sentiment in this organization is not in favor of their inflexible enforcement of interstellar law,” Quipa added.
Onso slammed a paw against the podium. “This review of the Battle of Talsk was supposed to be strategic. This is not a game, representatives! Forget what you think of any of this, because it’s beside the point. Where would you rather be trying to stop this assault: by the Farsul homeworld, or by your own?”
The silence that greeted the Yotul’s question was all of the answer he needed, and his facial features relaxed. I didn’t imagine there was a delegation in this chamber that wanted competent enemies en route to their planets.
“Then you should’ve helped. Shall we continue?” Onso asked.
With the testy assemblage back in line, the Sapient Coalition returned to our review of the massive contest; so far, we’d only managed to tackle the initial traps. I hoped we’d have less internal strife as we reviewed the main clash by the Farsul homeworld, with the Arxur, the release of the bombs, and the implications for the other two contests that entailed.