Meetings

Morning mist shrouded much of Temple city, obscuring many of the ancient pyramids in roiling intangible white clouds. Any within the mist would only be able to see maybe ten meters in front on them, but from above the swirling mist and hidden stonework made for a breath-taking view. Astarte made a point of having her personal office at the top of the Central Temple, the tallest in the city, for this very reason.

If she were being honest with herself, the age and mystery of the abandoned city filled her with deep instinctual dread. Like she was standing on the grave of some unknowable god. Somedays, when new discoveries about the city’s strange nature were uncovered, Astarte regretted making this place into their central base and capital. The more they learned the more she felt like they had made a huge mistake in setting foot on Pandemonium.

The tips of the pyramids poking above the waters surface were just that, the tip. The bed of lake Doom was only a little over a hundred meters down and a little further down underneath the silt layer one found the base of the temples. That in itself was still an impressive height for a city of indestructible pyramids, but their attempts to drain the lower levels of the Central Temple had revealed that the buildings extended far below the planet’s surface. To date they had only dived twenty levels below the pyramid’s base, the levels below the surface were filled with silt and set of like a maze so exploration took time. But those twenty levels represented hundreds of meters of subterranean levels.

Moreover by all models of erosion the rim of the massive super volcano should have been worn down millions of years ago. But the dating of various rock samples had revealed that the granite of the craters rim was somehow renewing itself slowly as the older rock wore away. And on top of all that, the super volcano that Temple city was built on was still an active hotspot, but in all the millions of years the city had been here it has never once erupted. Geologists had explored the Aedonian archipelago and established that some of the islands were younger than Temple City, and samples from exposed rock layers showed that the planet was still had shifting tectonic plates. Meaning that the surface off Pandemonium was shifting and evolving like any other planet, except for the region around Mount Doom. No matter how much time passed Mount Doom remained relatively the same.

The current theory was that there was some sort of machine below the planet’s crust just below Mount Doom keeping the region stable and unaffected. The technology required to do that was already far beyond their level of comprehension, but to also have that kind of technology last as long as it had under extreme conditions unnerved Astarte. That implied that not only were the Ancient Demons of Pandemonium very advanced, but also of a mindset to develop and engineer their constructions to last for millions of years. Implying they intended to live every bit of that time span and didn’t want the world to change around this one region.

The secrets this city held were terrifying, but also captivating. Astarte wanted to learn everything this ancient place held, even if the answer drove her mad.

The Shadow from the eastern rim of the crater continued to elongate, with an auspicious gap where the crater briefly opened to the sea. Evidently the designers of this place hadn’t accounted for all for how all the imported water would affect the rate of erosion, evident by the fact that the only huge gaps in the craters rim were formed naturally by the Acheron river and the Aedonian sea. Or maybe they hadn’t planned on this much water ever being imported in? New excavations were finding that the huge patches of oxidized metals where super cities used to be might have been a later inclusion. Meaning the water could have been added long after Temple city was built, maybe even by a different alien empire.

Astarte was shaken out of her creeping thoughts by a gentle rap at her door. It wasn’t the knocking of knuckles like a human would do, but instead it was a staccato tapping of claws. Three taps, followed by another three. One of Astarte’s favorite things about working with different species was registering how they accomplished common tasks differently from Terrans. The Kunan’ai had three long claws on their paws, instead of knocking by tapping their knuckles against a door like a human would they rattled the door with the claws on their paws. A human could mimic the staccato knock just as the Kunan’ai could mimic a human knock, but it would feel awkward to the instincts of either species.

“Come in Bra’tal.” She called back without turning.

There was a pause before her visitor gently turned the handle and scurried in to stand next to Astarte. “How did you know it was me?” the old Minister asked.

Astarte turned to look at the greying visage of Minister Bra’tal. He was the current leader of the Fawn’kari and had been the first Kunan’ai to ever communicate with an extra-terrestrial. Astarte knew that there was a chance that the exploration ships she sent into the void might meet with some uncontacted species and had given Captain Daniels secret instructions depending on how first contact went. Her early contact with the Torweni had proved very fruitful and getting a head of any Union diplomats could potentially shift a whole species to their side. Unfortunately, the two species the Staff of Lore had come across weren’t exactly in the position to aid in the war effort like she had hoped. The whole Kunan’ai species didn’t even measure up to the small Terran population of Pandemonium, and they were currently focusing their efforts on establishing a whole new nation.

Of course that didn’t stop Bra’tal from wanting to contribute “You Kunan’ai have your noses, and we humans have pattern recognition. I can identify the different knocks of all my Terran staffers, let alone the single Kunan’ai who visits me.” She said with a smile.

Bra’tal looked at the claws on his paw. “I never even considered how differently we knock.”

“It was the first thing I noticed” Astarte said proudly, she saw an appraising look come from the Minister. It was a natural thing for two alien species to constantly gauge the abilities of one another, it was their primordial brains trying to assess the danger of a threat it didn’t recognize. “Don’t think too hard about it, we each have our strengths. My nose will never be as good as yours. In fact, I heard your sense of smell might be better than a Wolf’s, which is something to be proud of.”

“Yes, but with Terran cooking its more burden than asset.” Bra’tal flicked an ear over to where Aster’s empty breakfast plate sat waiting to be taken away by her aid.

While New-Mombasa might be culturally different from the rest of the region, some things did bleed through from the surrounding area. Mandazi was Aster’s favorite as a kid, and she would sometimes cheat on her diet by having a few with cinnamon sugar. Cinnamon was a mild spice for human senses, but it was cloyingly potent for her Kunan’ai guest. Their food was much blander than she preferred, and she couldn’t tell if it was the lack of spices in their underground shelters, or their strong sense of smell coming into play.

She blushed in embarrassment “Sorry minster, I didn’t warn my chef that you were visiting, and I wasn’t going to turn away freshly fried Mandazi. Should I open a window?” she offered politely.

“No need, just pardon my nose.” He said benignly, using a Kunan’ai phrase to warn her about sneezing. He glanced out the window a watched the rising sun with her “I’ll never get tired of seeing a sunrise like that.” He murmured in awe.

“I have seen the sun rise on ten different worlds, and Pandemonium’s is still the prettiest.” Aster agreed.

Bra’tal glanced to Astarte with a look of longing. Not for her physically, the Kunan’ai were still too fresh to the idea of alien life to even seriously consider that as an option, and she had been polite in not offering. It was a longing for her life experiences, Bra’tal literally spent his whole life in a hole, fearing the toxic hell beyond his burrow. Now, here at the end of his life span he was freed from the tomb he was born into, and he was beginning to feel restless. There was a whole galaxy out there, and he was stuck on an isolated world, forced to hide their existence from the galaxy.

“That brings me to why I scheduled this meeting.” He began cautiously.

Astarte glanced to Bra’tal and saw that he wouldn’t be dissuaded “I can see your determined to have this talk, have a seat this might take a while.” She gestured to some plush leather seats around a wooden table.

Minister Bra’tal nodded and dropped to all six legs and slinked along the floor over to the chairs. Kunan’ai had six legs along a long weasel like body, with the two front legs also serving as short but versatile arms. They would rest on just four when talking or working but it was apparently very awkward to walk like that. Astarte picked up a carafe of coffee and filled two delicate China cups on a silver tray before walking over and setting the tray between them.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Much to Astarte’s delight Kunan’ai shared the Terran’s love for coffee, which made entertaining Kunan’ai guests easy since she always kept the finest stuff for herself. The only difference in tastes was that the Kunan’ai liked to drink theirs with tabasco instead of cream. She added some honey to hers, and tabasco to Bra’tals before passing him his cup.

He gave it a happy sniff before lapping at it with his tongue. “Excellent as always, I can’t tell you how fortunate we were that Earth evolved a bean similar to Vo’nuaght. We thought it lost”

“It is an interesting constant in galaxy at large. Most worlds have some sort of caffeine bearing plant, though not all cultivate it like we did.” She had another sip before setting it down on the table.

There were certain steps that had to be observed before two heads of state could have a candid discussion. By default, Astarte was the leader of Pandemonium, Lucile had no interest in the added paperwork of managing a colony, Modius was still a member of the Torweni Navy, and Bell was too preoccupied with the logistics of running the Hellworlder fleet. But now that they had observed some pleasantries it was time to cut to the heart of the matter, she still had a busy day after this meeting.

“I’ve told you before, your people are still in a delicate place, two thirds of your whole species are still on your dying home world. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I won’t call upon you to join the fleet, not yet.”

“With all due respect, I think your making a big mistake.” he said firmly, turning his dark eyes to hers. “We owe you a great debt, how can we ever repay it if you won’t let us join the fight for our right to exist?”

“I am not some loan shark minister, I won’t ruin Fawn’kars potential to assuage your sense of guilt. Your population isn’t even half the Terran population on Pandemonium, let alone the greater amount of Terrans spread across the Galaxy. Using your people at this stage would be like adding a drop of water to a lake. That said, Kunan’ai reproduce and mature much faster than Terrans, have a nose for civic engineering, and relatively simple dietary requirements. Fawn’kar could be an industrial powerhouse, but only so long as we give your people the time and resources to get there. Mobilizing your population at this stage would be a bad move from an economic perspective, and from a practical perspective it would be pointless.”

“Pointless?” he asked in growing frustration.

Astarte frowned “My phrasing may have been in poor taste, what I mean is that adding Kunan’ai personnel to the fleet would be more trouble than its worth.”

Bra’tals gaze darkened, and the fur along his neck started to rise. “I think your mistaken Miss Maiden-daughter. My people are not weaklings, we have the brave valiant hearts of warriors. You Terrans are not the only species with a deep military history, we have spilled our fair share of blood.”

Astarte sighed; he was getting too passionate. “I don’t doubt that, in fact I have taken the time to study how your people waged wars in the past. It is remarkably similar to how humans fought during the first world war, and your battleships were works of art.” Bra’tal preened at the praise. Astarte saw that and changed track “The issue is that sort of warfare was already a hundred years out of date on Earth by first contact, and compared to the Union its practically ancient history. My planet threw everything it had into building a space navy and we were beaten by a small contingent of lightly armed Union ships. We’ve spent the last two hundred years playing catchup to the Union and are only now starting to figure things out. War on a galactic scale requires military planning on a scale beyond anything either of our species have had.”

Bra’tal deflated a bit at Astarte’s brutal breakdown of how things were. “I still do not see how adding my people into that equation would be more trouble than its worth” he said pointedly, using her own words against her.

“Lets break it down into simple parts. My fleet as it stands is comprised of experienced officers, marines, deck crews, and engineers. Officers are promoted from within the fleet so that’s already out the window. Marines are our sword and shield for any infiltration or assault, they are also my most abundant resource to pull from. I have clans back on Earth who spent the last two hundred years training and experimenting, learning how wars are fought in the space age, and each and every one of them are rearing for a fight. I have no shortage of marines, and adding your people into what I have right now would change everything. Your people have different strengths and weaknesses that need to be accounted for, retraining everyone to account for that would be very costly. I’m not saying your weak, I’m saying that we haven’t fought with each other enough to know how to best work as one unit.”

Bra’tal looked like he had something to say, but Astarte continued. “Next is the deck crew, which requires electrical, welding, plumbing, and HVAC certifications, all while also being EVA certified. The EVA requirement would be the biggest issue there since it would cost millions of credits to develop EVA equipment for your people. Honestly this is the most likely role your people have the experience to fill, and I might be convinced to add a few in on a trial basis. But again, pulling away your experienced and veteran blue-collar specialist would hamper Fawn’kars development. Finally, is the engineering division, which requires a minimum of a master’s degree to even qualify for. To be honest even my own people are just barely qualified to operate on our own reactors, engines, shields, and warp emitters, hell we don’t even really understand how half of those things work. We’ve spent centuries trying to catch up to the Unions technological level, building upon what we already knew about atomic and quantum mechanics, and we’re still a long way off. Your people were cut short before they could even begin to develop basic quantum theories, and the remaining burrows chose to eliminate their preexisting knowledge of the atom to avoid a second mistake like the one that destroyed your homeworld, which means we have to instruct you from the ground up in things we barely understand ourselves.”

By the end of her tirade Bra’tals ears had drooped and his eyes looked watery. “I see” he said softly.

Astarte felt her heart break a little at the disappointment and sorrow in his body language. She had just gone on a tirade listing all the ways his people were lacking, and while she hadn’t lied she did intentionally lay it on a little thick. Part of her hated manipulating someone so honest, but that was the game of politics. Bra’tal was good at wrangling his own people, but he had little to no experience in dealing with other leaders. Astarte wasn’t much of a politician herself, but she had learned a couple of lessons from running Pandemonium. The first being that no one would give her what she wanted just because it made the most sense, people had to want to give her things. It was infuriating and asinine, but also the easiest way forward.

Now that she had brought him down she needed to offer him an outlet, a way to prove his people’s value. “That said, there may be a way for you to help with the war effort that doesn’t involve bringing you into the current fleet.”

His ears perked up and she knew that whatever he would do whatever was needed of him. “Really?”

“Yes, as you’ll recall I recently sent a few of my most trusted officers to Greveir’ai. One of which was very impressed with your peoples engineering and metal working prowess.” Last month she sent two chiefs from the Astaroth, the Bosun Highland and the head snipe Heizer, to assess the technical ability of the Kunan’ai. “He was particularly impressed with your machine shops; said you exhibit extreme precision with sub-par equipment.” What she left unsaid was how underwhelmed Heizer was with their knowledge over advanced topics, or how often Highland had used the words ‘furry lil’buggers’ in his report.

“Yes, I recall the big loud one being very excited” Bra’tal pridefully, “the skinny one was less impressed.”

“Through no fault of your own, Chief Heizer holds several PHDs in fields your people haven’t even heard of. He reported that for your technological level you display an acceptable depth of background knowledge. Which brings me to my proposals.” Astarte said as she pulled two file folders from within the folds of her robes. The first folder had the word HELLHAWK printed on the front in a bold font, the second was labeled OBAMA.

She passed them both to Bra’tal, he glanced at the titles and began to skim through the material. “Jet fighters?” he asked after a while.

“Jet fighter is an inaccurate term. The Hellhawks will run on concentrated ion boosters and EM thrusters, which are mechanically different from jet engines. But essentially yes. Like I said before, my planet put its full resources into fighting off the Union and failed, the only field we exceeded in was with small maneuverable stealth fighters. The Hellhawks are the spiritual successor to the Voidhawks who fought in the battle for the belt, and the Obama is the same carrier ship the Voidhawks deployed from.”

“Your building a space carrier and strike force.” Bra’tal stated, seeing where the discussion was heading.

“Yes, the Obama was designed to be upgradable and remain in service for at least fifty Terran years. That said, the technology introduced by the Union is at least half a millennia ahead of humanity, and we’re running into some unexpected problems with the refit. Obama wasn’t designed with standard Union measurements in mind, hell it wasn’t even designed with metric measurements. Pretty much every part we use has to be custom made or adapted on the fly, which is bringing costs up and slowing things down. Captain Daniels reported that your people are very experienced with this issue, said the only thing you were really lacking was fresh equipment.”

Bra’tal saw what she was getting at “You wish for us to help modernize your warship?”

“Yes, it’ll be a large project, but one that you’re best suited for. Not only that but it could help kick start Fawn’kars industrial ability. You don’t have the population for generalized industry, but a highly specialized one is well within your means. The Obama is only the start, I have it on good authority that we’re going to see a surge of ships in need of extensive refits”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Best left unsaid, for your own sake.” Astarte said grimly. No point in keeping him awake at night with her shady orders.

Bra’tal looked thoughtful, “Just helping with the refit won’t be enough, I can tell you from experience that makeshift solutions often require specialists to remain on site to keep things running. You would need a crew of Kunan’ai mechanists to remain onboard to manage problems as they arise.” His ears perked up at his realization. He turned to look Astarte in the eyes and saw her devious grin. “Which was a part of your plan.”

Astarte tried to suppress her smirk, and failed. “If we have to send out the Obama then we’ll be fully exposing ourselves, no point in keeping your people a secret at that point.”

Bra’tal saw her meaning and nodded. He had been pushing Astarte to fully integrate her people into the fleet for weeks, Marines, Engineers, Officers. The point of this discussion was to convince him that fully mobilizing his nation was unwise while also giving him a little taste of what he wanted.

“There is also another way Fawn’kar can help.” She said capitalizing on his satisfaction. She tapped a finger against the file that said HELLHAWK, “We need to establish production facilities for the Hellhawks here on Pandemonium to keep them a secret. We have the mines, refineries, and the experience to do this, however one thing we are lacking is precision engineering. Some of the parts for these fighters need fine tooling to produce, which requires experienced specialists. My advisors were impressed with your people’s skill given their lack of fine machinery, we’re hoping to outsource some of the production to Fawn’kar.”

Bra’tal glanced at the folder, “that might be doable, I’ll have to consult with my own advisers to be sure.”

“Of course, this was just a preliminary meeting to see if you’d be interested. Once you hear back from your people we can move forward.”

Bra’tal nodded and slinked off the couch, he trotted up to the table and picked up the two file folders. Astarte also stood up and stepped away from her chair. She extended her hand and Bra’tal shook it uncertainly. He had been around humans enough to recognize the gesture, but not enough to feel at ease while doing it. His claws tickled the inside of her palm and without any final words Bra’tal dropped to all six feet and scampered out of the room.

Astarte knew that leaving wordlessly once things had been agreed upon was very normal Kunan’ai behavior and wasn’t offended by the seeming rudeness. In fact she sometimes wished Terrans could do the same, the mysterious social dance of bringing a meeting to a close and leaving sometimes left Astarte mentally exhausted.