Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: December 22, 2160
As little faith as the United Nations had in our SC allies to remain steadfast, it said a lot that the Venlil were included in this briefing; their interests were inseparable from ours. We entrusted them with the uncensored truth and authentic reactions, and wanted them to be included in our talks about how to move forward. Humanity had come to love these fluffballs as our own, so I hoped this didn’t shake their faith in our unbreakable friendship. It shouldn’t, in theory, since the ark colonists hadn’t gone anywhere near attacking Skalga. This would have the optics of the Humanity First attack that killed me, amplified by a thousand; it’d reveal who our true friends were. If the Venlil wouldn’t receive assurances over the first Terran-initiated war since first contact, none of our allies would.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Governor. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m Elias Meier,” I extended a hand to Governor Laisa as she stood to meet me, but she ignored it, instead pulling me in for a hug. The embrace caught me off-guard, since I’d never had a dignitary lead with such an introduction, but I gave her a gentle pat on the back. How to appropriately return a Venlil’s hug wasn’t in my diplomatic training decades ago, and during first contact, no alien would’ve willingly touched a human. “I’m so terribly sorry that my species was involved in an attack on civilians.”
Laisa chuckled while retaking her seat, an amusement which seemed out of place. “You haven’t done yourself any favors by painting humans as cuddly, harmless, and peaceful. You can be all of those things, but when provoked or threatened, you’re incredibly dangerous.”
The Venlil think we’re dangerous. Great, just great. “That’s true, I suppose. Humans can be driven to violence, if desperate enough, which is no excuse.”
“Don’t misinterpret me. I always knew this about you, and the same can be said of us. We’re both highly emotional species, and when you feel fear or anger strongly, the results write themselves. These colonists must’ve been hurt, lonely, and afraid for decades: beyond the fright I’ve seen from refugees on Skalga, since they believed every human on Earth was slain.”
“I appreciate you empathizing with their behavior, and I do as well; the fear and uncertainty are no doubt what led to this. However, this could’ve been avoided had they answered a simple hail, and not fired blindly at civilian targets.”
“Who would’ve expected those humans to talk to their people’s murderers? They had valid reasons to attack the Federation; many of the SC’s members also wanted those worlds to face judgment for their crimes. While I think enough blood has been spilled, my legs will never be unmangled. I suspect these humans’ hearts will never be either.”
I relaxed a bit, relieved that Laisa sympathized with these humans’ plights, rather than condemning them as monsters. “Some of the galaxy’s scars have yet to heal. I think the ones who ordered the attack should face consequences, but the human colonists have suffered enough. The United Nations will likely welcome them back to Earth, though that’s…complicated by the millions of babies born.”
“It’ll be difficult to reintegrate with Earth’s society, especially hearing that you regale yourselves among alien company. Accept that they may not want to return. Perhaps consider what is to become Tinsas…or Tellus, since its ownership may be of value to both sides.”
“The Sivkits will not appreciate humans trying to keep their world; they wanted nothing to do with us for twenty-four years, and now, they’ll know those ark colonists fired on their expedition ships. If these Tellus miners, and the Krev, want peace, they’ll cede back the homeworld the Federation stole from the Sivkits, once we explain the planet’s dark history.”
“Oh, they’re aware. You’re really not caught up, are you?” Laisa tapped a button on her holopad, translating the briefing material to English so I could read it. “The Consortium found a thousand-year-old bunker, which according to Taylor’s transcript, had a recording from an ancient Sivkit general. It made mention of a Sivkit Grand Farmdom, wilderness theater, and even the Federation torching their world and causing the spine disorder. This general knew as it was happening.”
I gaped at Laisa. “Original records survived the Farsul cover-up? They must’ve been sloppier in the early days; the Sivkits have the right to know about this.”
“As someone whose species was also crippled, I agree. Knowing Skalga’s history helped us reclaim it. I do hope they can be who they once were, one day, not the wandering devourers they are today.”
General Jones cleared her throat. “Well I’m delighted you two get along so fancifully, but we can worry about Greenpeace saving the Sivkits later. Most of us in this room would like to extract intelligence from the Krev prisoner—”
“I don’t like the word ‘extract,’ Jones. What do you mean by that?” I hissed.
“Nothing, as long as Gress complies. This is your chance to wave that olive branch. We need to know more about the Krev, to have an advantage in peace talks.”
“This isn’t about finding every little edge on them. Has all of human history—and what just happened to Aafa and Talsk—taught you nothing about imposing harsh conditions in a peace treaty?”
Jones smiled menacingly. “Our diplomats need a leg to stand on, when we ask for certain concessions, Elias. We have many considerations to take into account; the entire Orion Arm is a house of cards, which could fall down around us with a wrong move. The Yulpa and the Arxur proved me right at Aafa, and that will only escalate from here on out. Take caution that you don’t trade peace with the Krev for multiple wars in our backyard.”
“We will talk to the Krev, Jones, not make them scapegoats and coerce their prisoners, just to take the heat off of us.”
“Of course. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Am I now?”
The spymaster general’s smile widened. “The Krev has been well-treated by the soldiers. I’ll patch us into a video call they’ve set up, and we’ll have a nice conversation. Just make sure he tells you what we need to know.”
I didn’t dignify that implied threat with an answer, wishing I was someone with actual authority, instead of a stand-in, to remove the brazen general from her cushy command position. Jones knew she could play games with me, given the exhaustive list of foreign ministers, SC liaisons, and UN undersecretaries that would be discussed to take the Secretary-General’s chair. Of the people in this room, General Osmani might be a prudent option; a military officer could handle the stresses of wartime, but he had diplomatic practice. Then again, nominating any kind of martial figurehead to lead Earth might signal to wary parties that the UN’s aim was war, or that we were joining our packmates’ attack. Kuemper might’ve been right to parade me around in the immediate aftermath, given that Earth had erected statues of me as some grandiose peacemaker.
If Jones makes good on her implied threats, I won’t remain silent. She can test me, but she better not push me. I can’t believe she’s saying such things with a Venlil in the room, when we’re trying to assure our allies that we aren’t violent!
A scaly, emerald green creature appeared on the screen, seated in a metal chair in an interrogation room; a glass of water rested in front of him, though I could see the alien was perturbed. He had curved claws that matched his scales’ coloration, and a lighter underbelly that seemed to have soft, stretchy skin. Gress’ posture was hunched over, almost as if he wanted to sink into the fetal position. His shiny, enlarged pupils turned toward the screen, struggling to look straight at us with side-facing eyes. I peeked at Laisa’s file, and noted that while he’d once been in the military, he was a noncombatant; his discharge, according to Trench’s transcript, was for attacking a Resket general after learning the Consortium killed Jaslip children. That entire sentence brought a displeased frown to my face.
The Krev stared at the panel of human leaders, sniffing the air like he was unsure of himself. “Hello? Whatever I can do to help…nothing the Consortium did was justified. We suffered…Taylor suffered…for nothing.”
“Let me lead off with one very important question,” Jones jumped in, which led me to stare daggers. “There are many pages here about how you exploited our colonists and how much they despised you; you, personally, collected mineral rent from them. How did you ever justify that treatment of our people, and why should we, the United Nations, accept that?”
“I…we just wanted them gone, nonviolently, from Tellus. Our whole shtick was avoiding the Federation, and not doing anything that risked detection.” The Krev seemed to swoon a bit, studying Jones. “As soon as we realized they were victims, we felt terrible; we tried to protect the humans, and give them everything we could! Our diplomats will have a major problem interacting with you, and having to take you seriously, since apparently, the cutest species in the galaxy is a great military power…”
“Cutest species in the galaxy? I thought that was us,” Laisa whispered coyly. “How does he look at that face and…never mind.”
The spymaster seemed at a loss for words, after hearing Gress’ ramblings. “The consensus is widely against us being the cutest species in the galaxy. Hideous abominations is the more common phrase tossed our direction.”
“Literally how? Don’t get me wrong—I’m devastated for my people, I’m worried about my daughter, and I’m extra concerned for Taylor: you do need to keep an eye on him. With all of that, I’m trying to treat this situation with the appropriate gravity it requires, but I’m melting that I’m talking to the primate leaders! Those little medals clipped to your jacket are so precious. You must sound so festive and jingly when you walk, like Christmas decorations and…ah! I adore how much humans love and collect shiny things. There’s got to be so many of you, happy and alive and singing carols in the streets! Making paper snowflakes! Building cookie houses: how can that not be cute?”
“Is this a joke to you? Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve made for us—ruining twenty-three years of peace and prosperity that we paid for in blood, and have self-flagellated to maintain?”
“Of course not! The Krev are going to be heartbroken that we threatened you, and were your enemy. We were trying to help humans not to get hurt, feeling nothing but fury on your behalf. I was just sad and not getting at all how the galaxy’s consensus is that you’re ugly; that’s so cruel and untrue. We’ll call you cute if we’re the only ones in this universe who do! My heart breaks for you still—poor things.”
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“You speak of us like we’re children. Why don’t you try to be actually helpful, instead of focusing on paper snowflakes, and harping in that patronizing voice about how ‘cute’ we are. Have a little respect.”
“Would you rather I focused on how my people spent decades hiding from an enemy that no longer existed, one that humans easily dealt with? If we’d taken a stand, we could’ve saved Earth from being bombed at all!”
Jones’ mouth tightened in frustration. “You are not making yourself helpful, Gress. The past is—”
“Or should I worry about whether I’ll ever see my daughter again; she has no idea I’m even alive!” The Krev’s eyes wobbled, and he slammed his claws on the table; it became obvious to me he was internally volatile, and trying to distract himself with…the primates he apparently found cute. “Maybe I should think about how, if you were to let us go this very minute, the love of my life would leave and return to Earth? I’m only trying to be happy for his sake!”
I raised a hand, shooting Jones a look that could melt glaciers. “You said you were worried about Taylor. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He already felt guilty over his role in the Sivkit deaths, and has PTSD from a mining accident that resulted in human casualties under his orders, in response to a situation I put him into. He was sent away to a dismal alien planet, away from his family and everything he knew, for nothing; his life was stolen! I can picture how angry he is right now, knowing how deeply he resented that life. The sacrifice the colonists made was a pointless one, and before long, he’ll start thinking he is the reason the Tellus settlers didn’t find out their people survived sooner.”
“Gress…I understand exactly what it’s like to grapple with personal responsibility, when people die under your watch or because of your decisions. The fault rarely falls on a single person’s shoulders.”
“I know that. I blamed myself for years…I was a hostage negotiator, and children were slaughtered on my watch as the world looked on. Those images can’t be rationalized. They don’t go away.”
“Believe me, I would understand better than most. Let’s say I’ve seen things no one was meant to see.” If I looked back deep enough in my brain, I could still see the few seconds of images passing before my eyes that made up my entire life. All I was. The infinite incomprehensible darkness that made the real world feel distant and agitating by comparison, and the coldness permeating into my bones as I faded away. “Right now, you and Taylor are playing a role in reconciling Tellus and Earth. It won’t be easy, but the best way to honor the ones we’ve lost is to make peace. I want to know if your people are amenable to that.”
Gress nodded emphatically, demonstrating familiarity with our body language. “Of course we are. We never had a…plan to open up our borders, or to seek peace with anyone in your area, but if the herbivores have changed, we might treat you like other Consortium races. I doubt we’d join your Coalition, or anything like that; we’ll still want space, I wager. Want the war to end today? Speak with Resket General Radai, not the bureaucrats that will fumble for a response. He’s compelled by honor, so if you can speak that tongue, he’ll try to right his forces’ wrongs.”
“Can Radai call off the drone attacks?” General Liu, who I vaguely remembered had been listed under the names of Undersecretaries during Zhao’s Secretary-General tenure, spoke up. “The war cannot end while you’re waging open warfare against us, and our allies.”
Ambassador Marston nodded. “I have the same question. The drones haven’t stood down, even after Captain Sylvia’s communique reached Consortium parties, and our data suggests they’re incapable of calling it off. The Duerten would have a very long memory of any attack on Kalqua. They were already devastated in the war. They’ll demand retribution in kind, or even an execution of leaders like Radai.”
“Radai, I imagine, would willingly turn himself over, or even…execute himself. The Reskets have such a practice, as well as war crime laws that would call for it. I urge you not to push for that, whatever he’s presided over; it would be a terrible mistake,” Gress commented. “He’s the only one trying to expose the corrupt surveillance apparatus of the Underscales and the Listeners. He will act with honor, and do what is best to preserve lives.”
Jones slammed a fist on the table. “Radai has done the opposite of saving lives. Billions of people are dead by the attack that he launched; it’s laughable that you think we’d let this go.”
“That’s not for us to decide here. He should have a trial and a chance to speak for himself,” I fired back. “The genocides must be answered for, but securing peace, without any more planets falling to bombings, is our top priority. If Radai will help us do that, then we should reach out to him.”
The Krev squinted at me. “Perhaps this is impolite to point out, but something about you seems off. You’re not quite like the other humans. I swear, I’ve seen your face before; I watched a video of a man giving a speech, before the Krakotl’s attack. You bear a stunning resemblance to him, yet it’s like you haven’t aged a day. Is the stress of this conundrum playing tricks on me?”
“It’s not. I was Secretary-General when Taylor would’ve left Earth. When I tell you I know what it’s like to have disturbing memories, I’m saying I remember death itself. You’re familiar with memory transcripts; mine was used to bring me back. My brain recreated inside a machine.”
Concern stretched across Gress’ features. “You were digitally reincarnated?! Of course, if they have all the wiring of the brain mapped…why has the Consortium not thought to do this? Surely, they must have, with all of the Trombil’s investing in cybermods and digital ascension. They scorn their physical bodies, and nobody ever raised the prospect. I fear what they could’ve done, without us ever knowing…”
“What are you saying?” General Almeida spoke, her voice stern.
“It seems like he’s suggesting that the Consortium could’ve mimicked Elias’ technology, but it seems hypothetical. Do you have any evidence of this?” Kuemper asked, as I shot a mystified look toward her. “Why are you worried about your people having this technology at all?”
“Because then they would be immortal. What if the delegates aren’t dead, not truly? What if they could put a stand-in for anyone, a replacement they could control? This—this is terrible. They have my scans from when I was a negotiator! They could put me in a simulation of that day, figure out how I’d react; oh no. They could create virtual torture chambers, and put hundreds of instances of your family—the people you love—in there to manipulate you. You have to destroy the scans! This technology is monstrous. Make them take down the scanners, before they get you too!”
The Krev’s hysterics were panicked and not making much sense. Given his state of mind, I suspected we’d gotten the last intelligible answer out of him, and signaled for Jones to disconnect the call. A silence hung over the room, as we tried to determine how to proceed with the Consortium. Should we direct our conversations to this Radai? Was there any chance that Gress’ fear had some truth to it? I’d worried to Virnt over how easily this technology could be abused. If these aliens were the type to misappropriate such resources, did we want to make a permanent peace with them? I was open to suggestions from the assembled specialists and generals, as long as General Jones didn’t display intrigue in using any of those hypotheticals ourselves.
I know we need to get the drones to stand down from Kalqua; that means we should seek peace, at least until we achieve that end. We need to learn more about the Consortium’s highest echelons of government, and their true intentions. We also should protect the SC, in case the KC try anything else against us. Gress says they don’t want war with humans, yet they never planned for peace with the herbivores.
I forced a sickly-sweet smile onto my face. “We need a plan. Since Jones has made her position abundantly clear already, I turn the floor over to the rest of you for concerns and observations.”
“I think that we should consider how people at home are going to react. It’s easy to look to the rest of the galaxy, but the UN will have family reunions, and accommodations similar to the Archives humans, to oversee,” General Osmani commented, while I filed away a mental checkmark toward his Secretary-General suitability. “What do you say of setting up a program, for both sides to check in on surviving relatives? As well as having our diplomatic staff draft a press release for the UN’s socials and domestic channels.”
“That seems reasonable to me. I imagine we all agree we can’t turn our backs on the ark colonists. Any other suggestions?”
“Contact this Radai, and see what terms he’d seek for a peace.” Laisa perked her ears up, confidence emanating from her posture. “Taylor’s transcript supports that he’d be a likely ally. He’s useful to us both as someone that the SC will want us to hold responsible, and as someone who’d have sway and intelligence among the Consortium.”
General Jones’ eyes gleamed. “I agree, though I suppose my opinions are abundantly clear. We need information on these Underscales and Listeners, and I find it difficult to believe the head of the military would’ve been unaware altogether. He was digging into their exploits.”
“What do we do about the Osirs?” Kuemper blurted. “Jaslips—whatever. We have millions of babies within our borders…”
“And so do they with us,” General Monahan commented. “We have custody of that ship, and we’re not sure what to do with the children: deliver them on our watch? Bring them back to Sol, without a support system, or what—give them to the Consortium, who can’t be trusted and might not even want them?”
I raised a finger. “One thing at a time. We’ll want to establish diplomatic relations with all species, or at least try to; regardless of whether we’re enemies, having open channels can only be an advantage. The Jaslips should be one of the first we establish contact with, and we can see how they feel about the…Osirs. We don’t need to offend them by raising their children, outside of their culture.”
“It might look a lot like what was done to Skalga, taking Venlil children away to gentle them through upbringing,” Laisa commented. “I have another question as well. While I’m honored to be included, as the sole alien official in this room, I’m curious why none of your other allies are here. The Yotul’s exclusion is self-explanatory, with your rivalry, but the Zurulians have been nothing but supportive, accepting, and altruistic. They stood with Earth, pulling humans out of the rubble. Why aren’t they here?”
“That’s an excellent question. I’m curious to hear the answer.”
General Jones rolled her eyes. “Elias, the Zurulians will be brought in eventually. If we want to keep a lid on this, until we’re ready to make a statement to the SC, they couldn’t be in this room. Laisa ‘isn’t here’ officially. The Zurulians have been keeping company with many of our adversaries, who we couldn’t risk capitalizing on this.”
“Surely the Yotul know about this. They were involved in sending the scout ship,” Kuemper objected. “There were other SC species in the boarding party.”
“I never said the Yotul weren’t involved, though it’s unfortunate that they got the live feeds. They won’t drop a bombshell that will create open warfare, but it makes this impossible to contain or tidy up. All I’m saying is we don’t need the Zurulians telling the Bissems, who would turn and tell the Arxur. The Technocracy, at least, isn’t so naive.”
I pressed a palm to my forehead. “Did you think to impress on the Zurulians the secrecy of this all? We can trust them not to turn on us, so I don’t think we want to alienate any of our closest allies right now. Laisa is right; they should’ve been here. Their medical expertise will be crucial in learning the biological requirements for the Krev we have in our custody, as well as saving the human prisoner that’s in critical condition.”
“Zurulian doctors are already working on both tasks, back on the ship. They haven’t made contact with their government yet, but we could allow them to do so,” General Monahan piped up, shooting a side-eyed glance at Jones. “They stood with us when it mattered, and sent aid to every dark corner of the galaxy. I imagine they’ll offer help to the Tellus refugees. Let’s show them a little faith in response.”
I drew a shuddering breath. “Speaking of faith, we need to notify Ambassador Korajan, before this is shared with the SC. Since he and I are personally acquainted, I believe I should be the one to deliver the news. They need to make preparations. I trust I have the consensus of the generals to pledge our aid to Kalqua?”
“Of course,” General Osmani replied. “Remind Korajan that humanity saved their home once. That’s a reason for his people to extend some faith to us.”
I nodded in agreement, before dismissing the assembled group; I needed to summon the Duerten ambassador, since I knew this news was going to crater our improved relations with his species and the Shield in general. Jones might’ve been right that we couldn’t risk this news getting out, without us having control of our messaging. The war between the Arxur and the Federation remnants hadn’t even been touched, but it jeopardized our peacetime further; we had to take this fiasco one step at a time, like I’d told Kuemper. While our diplomatic corps prepared all the necessary measures to make this announcement to the SC, I was going to try to save our friendship with one ally we couldn’t afford to lose.