Ominian System
Automated Border Outpost 1D-25
1,893 light-years from Earth
June 12th, 2176 A.D.
Ambassador Skarl entered his quarters and palmed the door shut before entering his credentials and locking it from any outside access, his vision blurring as his fingers fumbled to enter the proper codes.
After receiving the confirmation beep, he hurried to the main section of the ambassadorial suite and uncinched his official robe, sighing in relief after the weight of the heavy tilnath whale fur was no longer borne by his shoulders as it slipped off and crumpled onto the floor around his webbed feet.
He felt so dehydrated, and his desire to enter the water became overwhelming, a sheer panic engulfing him as his shaking hands began to unpeel the skinsuit away from his gaunt frame.
He finally got it off and shivered uncontrollably as the dry air currents circulated around his now-exposed skin and began wicking away what little moisture the skinsuit had retained within them.
It took considerable willpower and concentration to make himself move towards the tank, and his heart rate was dangerously tachycardic as he finally reached the lip of the large tank.
He weakly shimmied over it and into the warm, brackish water, his permeable skin instinctively opening the pores to allow the precious lifesaving fluids to rehydrate his desiccated body.
It took a long time for his heart rate and physiological distress to normalize as his subdermal layers absorbed the nutrient-rich water and replenished his organs.
Once he felt like he wasn’t on the verge of dying anymore, he reluctantly exited the tank and put the skinsuit back on before heading to the small personal vault and placing his moist palm on the scanner.
After the locking mechanisms disengaged, he opened the vault door and pulled out the Farian religious artifact and comm node within before heading over to the communications panel.
Sitting down in front of the panel, he used the nail plate of his thumb to pry off one of the jewels studding the artifact and carefully placed it on the surface before unceremoniously tossing the priceless artifact to the side and ignoring the clattering it made against the gleaming alloy surface.
Activating the comm panel, he entered his ambassadorial credentials to activate the highly advanced Ma’lit null space relay and connect to Faria Prime. The Ma’lit had graciously set up relays for all to use, ensuring near-instantaneous communications with the governments being represented in the talks on the station.
The Kingdom of Faria was close enough that there was no delay, but the more distant powers, such as the Republic and the Kilthek Dominion, would have a five and eight second delay, respectively, which was still incredible considering the extreme distances involved.
Best of all, none of the governments had to pay the usual exorbitant price associated with the use of the Ma’lit null space relay, which would have bankrupted some of the smaller regional powers and saddled the larger powers with long-term financial debt.
After an agonizingly long solar minute, the connection was made, and he saw the First Prime appear on the screen, looking extremely worried.
He picked up the jewel between his thumb and index finger and held it up for the First Prime to see, who saw it and looked down as he opened a drawer of the desk and pulled out his own jewel before holding it up for the ambassador to see.
“First Prime, I wish to report on the progress of the alliance talks if now is a good time.” He said as he squeezed the jewel with the appropriate amount of pressure to activate it. It began to glow, and the First Prime nodded before replying as he squeezed his own jewel.
“Thank you for reporting in, Ambassador Skarl, and yes, now is a good time. I hope progress has been good on all fronts, and I hope the others appreciate the contributions of the Farian Kingdom to the defense of the quadrant.”
Both jewels now activated, the ambassador tapped on the comm node, and his prerecorded voice emerged from it, the AI program within it replying for him with a perfect copy of his voice as he gingerly placed the jewel back on the surface and lightly tapped it.
The jewel projected a small holo screen with a keypad console underneath it, and he waited for the First Prime to activate his own AI comm node and jewel keypad console before starting to type.
The First Prime’s comm node and his own began to communicate with each other with preprogrammed responses from the embedded AIs as the jewels connected to each other with an encrypted link that would not be detected by any that might be listening in.
They did not have to worry about the Ma’lit, since they were extremely rigorous with privacy protection of personal and government communications, but the others on the station may not be, and in the extremely unlikely chance of spying by the others, the jewels were a guarantee for secure communication.
He finished typing and sent it over the channel for the First Prime to see as the comm nodes continued to carry on with their conversation between them.
Things are not going well. Most of the major powers here have already agreed to the framework of the alliance, and I think the others will fall in line as well, since none want to risk suffering economic collapse from the sanctions.
It would not be in our best interests to reject the proposal at this time. The Kingdom’s economy cannot survive being sanctioned, and we will earn the animosity and enmity of all the others before the Bal’Ri’Kan even arrive.
The First Prime read the text, and the look of worry turned into outright fear as he began to type out a response. After a few moments, the screen in front of the ambassador filled with words.
This is a disaster if what you are telling me is true. It is already difficult to do what we are trying to achieve without the King’s knowledge, and the time of their arrival draws near. I do not think the Masters would understand or care for our concerns about being isolated or going into an economic recession. Such considerations are beneath them.
They will see our agreeing to the alliance proposal as a betrayal, even if it is false and opens unique advantages for exploitation and intelligence gathering. Our failure to successfully create an opposing bloc is all the reason they need to renege on their promises to spare us and allow us to live as one of the chosen.
You must try harder to drive a wedge between the powers, or our species will join the others in the extermination efforts when the Bal’Ri’Kan finally arrive to cleanse this quadrant.
He felt his dread increasing as he read what the First Prime wrote, and for the hundredth time, he wished he had never gotten involved in the efforts he was currently engaged in.
What of the hatcheries, First Prime? Are they still safe? Have the agents agreed to disarm at least some of the viral bombs after we have proven our loyalty?
The First Prime read his text and rapidly flicked his head up several times, clearly distressed by the question as he started typing a reply.
No, they are not safe; we lost another one three days ago. The security director tried to disable one of them, and he failed. We lost the entire hatchery in Southern Sector 5-B; all 26,000,000 eggs and hatchlings died terribly within a solar day.
So far, I have been able to prevent the truth from getting out, but that is not what concerns me. That traitor did it without my permission, and now they are all dead because of him.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
I received a message from one of the changed almost immediately afterwards, and it said if we attempted to do it again, it would trigger all the bombs and make sure we are the first the Bal’RI’Kan would conquer and feed on after they are finished with the Insectoids.
It also said they would not kill us first. They will keep the males alive to watch our females being used by the Bal’Ri’Kan unendingly for their own lust until they finally die from the abuse inflicted upon them.
Only after the last female has perished from the abominations gratifying themselves would they then feed on the males, and they will ensure we are alive for as long as possible to feel every torment as they butcher us to fill their bellies.
I had the director killed for his betrayal against the Masters, and the others with him killed to prevent the truth from coming out. We have no choice but to obey the Masters if we do not want to lose the rest of the hatcheries and have our females used by those beasts.
We need to continue to show our loyalty and do as the Masters want, or we will suffer unspeakably before being exterminated like the others.
The ambassador flicked his own head upwards several times, barely able to handle the terrible things the First Prime had just said. However, the First Prime was lying when he said the Director was a traitor. Both he and the First Prime knew the Director was going to try; he was a patriot who took his job very seriously, and they all hoped his attempt would be successful.
During their last meeting on Faria Prime, the director used secret battle code with his fingers to tell them he was going to try to disable the threat. It was only known to a very few in the government, and the changed would not be able to detect it since they were all civilians and would not suspect such a method of communication.
It would seem like random, nervous tapping of the fingers to all others monitoring the meeting, and the Director volunteered to try, despite knowing the First Prime would have to have him killed if he failed.
If he was successful, they would try to deactivate the others. If not, then they could pretend the Director acted without their knowledge and hopefully convince the agent they were still loyal to the Masters while they continued to try to figure out a way to save the hatcheries.
The director was now dead; his mission was a failure, and now almost 30 million more eggs and hatchlings had been killed. The First Prime was right; they had no choice but to do as they were told to protect the Farian species from the depravity and extinction they were being threatened with.
His spirit was heavy with grief for his colleague's death, and he hated having to continue the charade for the benefit of the changed that were surely monitoring the conversation.
For the Masters we serve, I will increase my efforts here and continue trying to prevent the alliance from forming. What do you want me to do if I fail to do so, First Prime?
The First Prime read the message and then looked up at him, a haunted expression in his eyes as he stared at the ambassador for a long time before finally looking down and typing.
If you fail, you will execute the secondary plan. I do not ask you to do this lightly, Skarl. Our eggs were fused together, and we hatched together. Do you remember how we used to swim and race against all the others and the female hatchlings we shared when they sought us out after we proved our fitness against all the other males?
And when we lost our tails and grew our arms and legs, you helped me to make the transition to dryland. Do you remember, Skarl, when I was afraid to go beyond the tidal zone, and you stayed with me?
The Arbiters were drawing near as they continued to winnow the cowardly like me from the hatchery, and you forced me to face my fear, lest you be culled as well because of your refusal to leave me in the tidal pool and go to dryland alone.
You are my only true companion in this world, and I am terribly sorry for involving you in this. I had no choice; only you do I truly trust, and now I wish you had left me in that tidal pool and spared yourself after all. You do not deserve this, but it is too late to take back what I have brought upon you.
You will give the catalyst to the others of your staff and drink it yourself. Remember, you will have forty-three solar minutes before the catalyst triggers. You must ensure you take out as many of the others as you can to guarantee maximum disruption.
Please, Skarl, though none know it, we are all depending on you. I will protect your mates and your hatchlings as if they were my own; this I promise you. Do it for them, do it for the Kingdom, and most of all, do it for the Masters whom we serve with all our hearts.
Skarl read the text three times, feeling the pain and regret of the First Prime in the words and resenting his having to include the mention of serving the Masters to keep up the facade of loyalty.
He was touched deeply by what his friend had said. They had done everything together since they were hatchlings, and the First Prime had never forgotten that Skarl had stayed with him in the tidal pool during the Day of Transition.
Because of this, Skarl’s fate was forever intertwined with the First Prime’s, and he greatly benefitted from his friend’s rise within the Kingdom, achieving the vaunted position of ambassador mostly because of the First Prime’s sponsorship.
He looked back up at the First Prime and tilted his head to both sides, signifying his acceptance of the First Prime’s ask. They simply stared at each other for a few moments as the two AIs of the comm nodes continued to talk to each other, their eyes saying the words they dared not speak or write.
The First Prime typed quickly before reaching for the jewel and deactivating it after his message was sent.
Thank you, Skarl. I will keep my promise to watch after your mates and hatchlings.
Skarl read the short message and reached for his own jewel, pressing it and seeing it go dark as it deactivated. They both waited for the AI communication to reach a natural pause before turning off the comm nodes.
“Thank you, First Prime. I apologize, but I must conclude our conversation as I am tired and need to rest. I will report on the progress of the talks tomorrow after the session has ended.”
“Understood, Ambassador. I look forward to the good news you will surely be informing me of afterwards, and the King is proud of your efforts to represent the Kingdom of Faria and assure the others of our willingness to contribute to the defense of the quadrant.”
They both shared another knowing look in the silence that followed before the First Prime ended the connection, the now black screen a perfect mirror of the darkness pervading Skarl’s spirit.
Getting out of the seat, Skarl walked over to the cooling unit and opened the door, seeing several sealed bottles of the various intoxicating spirits imbibed by the many species of the quadrant.
One of them was a Farian cider, and he eyed it with trepidation as he envisioned himself opening it and drinking it with his oblivious staff, none of whom knew they were biological bombs that would be used to kill all the other delegates and hopefully stop the alliance from forming in time.
A part of him cried out at the evil he was going to commit, and another imagining came to him. He could have them come to his quarters and drink it with them, and then they could take their diplomatic shuttle to see the purple lights currently over the magnetic north pole of the planet as the charged particles of the primary interacted with the atmosphere.
The catalyst within the cider would activate the undetectable biological explosives within them, and their shuttle would be destroyed. Only he and his staff would die in the unfortunate accident, and the Masters would be forced to fight a unified quadrant.
A part of him did not truly believe they would really be spared, but his desire to save his hatchlings and the mates he loved overwhelmed his reluctance to commit the evil he had to do.
He quashed his fanciful imagining, chiding himself for such foolish thoughts. Even if he had the courage to do it, he wouldn’t be able to since two of his group were unknown to him. They were added to his regular staff at the last minute, and he was sure they were changed sent to monitor him and ensure he remained silent and loyal.
Once the changed agents of the Masters on Faria Prime discovered what he had done, they would trigger the viral bombs for his betrayal. Not only would they kill all the remaining eggs and hatchlings as punishment, but they would also turn the Farians into an endangered species almost instantaneously.
With all the hatcheries killed, they would lose the entire generation meant to replace the current one. And even worse, they still had three cycles left before the next lunar alignment occurrence that triggers a species-wide breeding frenzy, which only happens every eight cycles.
Even Farians living on other worlds needed to return to the waters of their birth to breed during the lunar alignment, despite the best efforts by scientists to create suitable alternatives to break the Farian species from their reliance on the home world.
None of the experiments truly worked, and only thousands of eggs could be made on other planets instead of the billions they needed to perpetuate the Farian species and its unique lifecycle.
This had considerable societal and strategic implications for the Kingdom and was one of the primary reasons why they had never been able to expand beyond their immediate region, relegating them to middle power status despite their economic might and technological prowess.
That wasn’t the problem so much as the fact that adult Farians could only reproduce twice in their lifetimes, and the eggs and hatcheries at risk from the viral bombs were of the second, and last, breeding season of most adult Farians currently alive.
It took twelve cycles to go from egg to mature hatchling, and they only had two breeding periods in the twenty cycles of life they had as adults after growing their arms and legs and going onto dryland. If the hatcheries were destroyed, they would be rendered vulnerable to extinction within a few cycles.
They would go from billions to a mere few million as all the older adults died off, and most of the ancestral diversity would be lost, causing a genetic population bottleneck that would weaken them severely for generations, if they survived the war at all.
He had no choice in the matter, and he would do whatever he needed to save the Kingdom and ensure the survival of his species. He closed the door to the cooling unit and headed back towards the tank.
The faces of all the delegates on the station flashed through his mind, and a wave of guilt pierced both of his stomachs, making him want to regurgitate. As he slid over the top of the tank and lowered himself into the warm water, he begged the Maker to save him from the terrible evil he had to perpetrate to save his species.
He closed his eyes and submerged himself, a desperate prayer ringing in his spirit.
Please, Maker, turn me into a rock and make it so I sink and drown. Spare me from this evil I do not want to do. I would rather spend eternity in the infernal desert than do this. Make me a rock. Make me a rock. Make me a rock.