by Mark Tufo
“Library? Memorial?”
“Similar. I do not know if what we did next was the correct thing. History can always look back and point out the deficiencies in a logical course of action, or any decision, I suppose. Certainly, at the time we thought we were doing right to protect our citizens, when ultimately, the best thing we could have done was pull up the stakes on everything we owned and left, cut our losses, and never looked back. I am not in favor of the technology we have since created that can destroy a planet, but if we’d had it then, I would have actively lobbied that we use it. Of course, as I said, that comes from what I know now.”
“I have never seen you like this Drababan,” Tracy said as she reached out to touch an arm that was crossed on his desk.
“Our interaction with the Stryvers altered what we had hoped for, and what should have been our future, Tracy.”
Tracy was taken aback; she had never heard Drababan say her first name.
“We could have been so much more than we are now. We were incredibly close to an achievement that would have produced what I believe all greater species strive for: true enlightenment. War was unknown, illness and disease nearly eradicated. Old age and accidents were our largest reasons for death. It was not Heaven; we had our problems, but it was our Golden Age, a time that I do not believe we will ever be able to return to. At least…not without help.”
“Michael? You believe he is that help?”
“He is but one part of it, but yes, he has a role to play.”
“What happened in the mountains, Dee?”
“We fired two missiles into the heart of it. We congratulated each other for a job well-done; we had killed the rogue monster that was hunting our kind. Had we not been so self-congratulatory on finding a planet ripe for our expansion we might have studied more closely that world’s past. The signs must have been there…I don’t know, perhaps we just didn’t want to see them. We had cracked open a crevasse that led to a cavern full of cocooned Stryvers. When this world had been on the brink, they had wrapped their eggs up in the hopes that whatever had happened would one day be undone. We were their unwitting savior.”
“How is that possible? How long were those eggs down there?”
“This may be the saddest part of all. They’d been down there for thousands of years. Our scientists determined later by studying some of the unhatched eggs that had we not expanded the atmosphere, in another ten or fifteen years they may never have been able to hatch. What is that in the age of a cosmos? Not even the twitch of an eyelid.”
Tracy could barely fathom the misfortune of them all; the ripple effect throughout the universe. That ten years may have harmed Dee’s people but it had also had devastating repercussions on her own planet, and it wasn’t over yet.
“We kept a small military outpost a few miles from the cave entrance, and for weeks afterward nothing happened. There were minor geological quakes inside the mountain; our scientists mistakenly, or optimistically, believed it was due to the structure of the mountain being altered by our missiles. They were wrong. It was the millions upon millions of Stryvers working to create a larger opening to get out and explore the world they’d been denied. Only one message got out before the post was destroyed. ‘We will all die.’ We mobilized everything we had; it was woefully inadequate—the blessing and the curse of a peaceful society. It was the first of many battles in which we would taste the heavy bitterness of defeat. Nothing we did, no battle we fought, could stem the tide.”
“Did they have weapons?”
“At the time no, but their numbers were staggering, uncountable. And they were so fierce. Some survival instinct in them must have been triggered. They procreated at an accelerated pace; females could drop a clutch of eggs on a battlefield; the eggs would hatch and the hatchlings could immediately take up the effort with their parents. Our troops were dumbfounded.”
Tracy had to swallow hard at that notion. She looked over to her son sleeping on the couch, shaking back the mere thought of something like that happening in a Human world.
“You must understand that at that time in our history we only had a semblance of your police force; we’d never had a need for an organized military. Many of the weapons we used were for restraint, not death. Even the missiles we used were for mining purposes. With little to no resistance, the Stryvers would run through and dismantle an entire city and its inhabitants in under a week. We were at a loss. Great black swirling masses of them could be viewed from space as they stripped the world we had created clean. All we’d done was being undone, at a blistering pace and in the most horrifying way. There was dissension among our politicians, some wanted to completely abandon our jewel, to evacuate everyone still down there. Others wanted to stand and fight for a world they felt they had a rightful claim to call home. It was in Kipolitun that we made our greatest final stand. We had two years to prepare for their coming. A wall nearly a hundred feet tall was erected around the entire city. We trained a new breed of soldier; we took all of our desperation, everything we’d learned, all our rage and poured it into weapons development. We changed shuttles into gunships, mining equipment and construction devices into offensive armament. We thought we had this all figured out. Turns out our ignorance was our folly.”
Tracy was having a hard time understanding how this effort had not worked. “Yes they had the numbers, but you had the means. I don’t understand, Drababan.”
“As if they knew the battle they were about to wage was decisive, they swelled their numbers to plague proportions. We killed millions, perhaps billions, but it was not enough to stave off the assault. In some cases, their dead were stacked as high as our wall. Our soldiers fought desperately but were unable to hold back the tide. Fatigue became a factor as the Stryvers never stopped. Pilots crashed ships from falling asleep mid-flight. This battle was truly the beginning of the end.”
“There is so much missing here, Drababan…”
“Yes, the technological gap. The Stryvers, though basically insectoid with a hive mentality, were extremely intelligent. It is doubtful that without outside influences they would have ever had an industrial revolution—they were not that type of species. It was their telepathic ability that allowed them to leap the mechanical gap between us. It is a cruel twist of fate that our two species could communicate that way. If they were close enough, we could hear them and they could hear us. But it was not through speech alone. The worst of it is their fangs; when they strike, they open up a direct connection to the fighter’s conscience. The bite was given to kill; the connection was an unfortunate side effect, one that the Stryvers used to great service when they realized its potential strategic value. When the city finally fell, the Stryvers were smart enough to leave some alive. They bled their prisoners of all the knowledge that they contained.”
“And the city housed some of the greatest minds your culture has ever known.” Tracy shuddered as she said the words.
“The Stryvers disregarded the scholars and the poet’s teachings and honed in specifically on the engineers, architects, and analytical minds. They tapped pilots and soldiers alike; a whole new arsenal of weaponry had been opened up to them and they were going to use it to their full advantage. They used the knowledge of our home world against us; they used our own technology against us. No longer were our weapons and spacecraft destroyed, but confiscated and put to our enemy’s use. Our world changed instantly and forever the moment the Stryvers touched down on our planet with our own ships. Military duty became mandatory for all Genogerians regardless of their previous station in life. At first, we didn’t mind being conscripted into the army; it was our duty to protect our world, the entire populace felt great pride in that. It wasn’t until we began suffering great losses that we realized our Progerian officers never fought on the front lines; never had the casualties we did. A slight shift and the protocol went from enlisting to enslavement, and by then it was too late; our entire way of life had been altered to fight this threat. Much like Earthlings are n
ow, we were pushed to the edge of extinction.”
“I’m having a hard time feeling bad for the Progerians, Drababan. Perhaps if they had been wiped out, my people would be alright.”
“It is natural to blame the enemy in front of you, but believe me, it was already too late for you and countless other worlds the Stryvers have found and will continue to find and plunder. The moment they stole our technology, they were star bound. They will never cease. They will consume until there is nothing left; they are the living embodiment of an inferno. They will burn hot and fast until there is no more fuel to use.”
“It is difficult from my perspective to see you as the victims here.”
“Enlisting your sympathy was never my intention. We are far from innocent in this war. I merely give you a historical background so that you might better understand your mate’s actions. There are still some good Progerians and Genogerians, those that remember the way our world was, once upon a time, and who wish to return to that time. We usurp other planets for our survival; we justify it by saying ‘better us than the Stryvers,’ but in many instances, we are just as bad, sometimes worse.”
“Worse? How?”
“We have destroyed life on planets because they would not capitulate. At least the Stryvers do not seek to conquer; they simply consume the resources they need to survive then move on.”
“Neither of you is going to win a Nobel Peace Prize.”
“No, but perhaps Michael can.”
“But, a lasting peace…is that even possible? There are so many questions, so many prejudices and biases to get past.”
“You do not understand, Tracy. He has to succeed. Humans have fought valiantly and inflicted great casualties on the Progerian war machine. If they cannot knuckle you under in the next few months, they will simply destroy this planet like they have others. Even if they could force you under their iron yoke, it won’t be enough. They now know that Stryvers are here; they would never leave a resource rich planet open for them to grow even stronger. The Progerians are extremely close to washing their hands of this entire matter. That they have even agreed to talk to Michael speaks volumes. Perhaps this is where they have decided to make a final stand, to commit everything we have to wipe out the scourge we have loosed on the cosmos.”
“I do not like the idea of my home world being your battlefield.”
“Better a battlefield than a wasteland.”
“Must you always use logic!” She was hot, but then she smiled. “Oh God, I sound like Michael. What you have told me here is nothing like the version I have heard from the Stryvers.”
“History is written from the perspective of the victors, and we are losing. Of all the outcomes we can walk, Michael is leading us on the least damaging path.”
“How does he do this? This is the guy that can’t find his boots in the morning, no matter that I put them in the same place every night. And here he is on the verge of attempting to save the planet. I’d bet money right now he’s doing something stupid.”
Chapter 9
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 5
“Anyone got a mint?” I asked when I got out of the head again.
“What is a mint?” Keecan asked.
“That’s probably all the answer I needed.”
“How you doing?” BT asked when I sat next to him.
“Couple of valiums and a fifth of something wouldn’t hurt. I’ll probably be alright.”
“I have weed.”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
He pulled out this balled up joint that looked like it had gone through the wash, twice.
“See!” he said, displaying his prize.
“I’m in the military. I can’t smoke that shit.”
“You’re the highest ranking officer on the planet, who is going to make you take a piss test?”
“Maybe…only let me get through this meeting, probably wouldn’t be a good idea to talk to an alien being about not eating my face while I’m stoned out of my gourd.”
“Good point,” he said sticking it back in his pocket.
“Really? You didn’t figure that out on your own?” There is no way I was the responsible one just now.
I was actually weighing the pros and cons of taking a couple of hits. Would I be more paranoid or more relaxed? Then I had to consider if either state would make matters better or worse, when there was the minor jarring as we docked on the ship. The doors opened and Lumball was taken off first so that he could get medical attention. The pilots were next, then Grar and his cohorts. I realized it was now just Keecan, BT, and me. If they wanted us dead, now was the time. I took a couple of deep breaths waiting for the inevitable punch of blaster burn; when it didn’t come, I moved to the exit.
We were all standing on the ramp. I could damn near hear Keecan stiffen as a Progerian officer came into the dock.
“That Asuras?” I asked.
“It is indeed,” Keecan answered.
“Pretty important guy?”
Keecan looked at me like I was thicker than a post.
“There may be no more skilled warrior among the Progerians; none that are better at tactics. He is legendary for his military prowess.”
“And yet here we are, attempting to forge a peace,” I said.
“Don’t fuck this up, Talbot,” BT added.
“Oh, that’s helpful. Couldn’t imagine what I’d do without a little added pressure.”
Asuras came closer. There were guards in the room, but not one of them was pointing a rifle at us; that alone was a huge positive.
“Michael Talbot, Earth Champion,” Asuras said.
BT could barely hide his snort.
“Now who’s about to fuck it up,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.
“We have much to discuss.”
I was tired, hungry and smelled like something the cat wouldn’t drag in. But I wanted to get this over with so I could get out of here as quickly as possible.
“Please follow me.” He turned, BT and I did as he asked, but Keecan did not move. I stopped after a few steps; Asuras after a couple more. “This involves you as well, Keecan,” he said.
When we got to his office there was a spread of food that looked almost palatable. I thought Keecan was going to start weeping. The funny part is I was the one that had to wipe the drool leaking from the corners of my mouth.
“Please. You all should eat something; battle has a way of simultaneously making you think you never want to eat again, while desperate to devour everything you can grasp.”
I’d not thought my previously churning stomach would allow for it but I dug in. I don’t even know what half of it was but it was fucking delicious, probably was eating some version of Progerian river rat. When we were done, Asuras had the table cleared.
“I find that those with full bellies tend to make less rash decisions. I have watched all of your bouts in the arena, Michael, they were…” He hesitated. “Very adaptive, I think would be the appropriate word. You were not a warrior before the games?” He asked it as a question but the answer was obvious from my lack of fighting skill.
“I was not. I was a student, and not a great one of those either.”
“You have grown into your calling.” He had in no way meant it as a slight, yet I wanted to loose on him all of the pent up rage I had for him and for his kind and that if not for them I would not have had to go through the shit I had. BT, sensing something, put his hand on my shoulder.
“Yup,” was all I said. Off to some great negotiating skill.
“Earth—for a world at such disadvantage against our vessels—has been surprisingly clever, ruthless, and decisive in her victories. I am impressed with the way you have all fought.”
“You came out of the blue and fucked our world up. What did you think we were going to do? We’re not in the habit of rolling over and dying.”
“What the fuck Mike?” BT was trying to stop me. “Diplomacy, man. You never heard the word before?”
Our host reve
aled nothing; not that I could recognize it if he had. “My entire life has been devoted to the military. Violence aside, there is an art to warfare, it is best to beat your opponent before you even start.”
“Don’t, Asuras, don’t start going all Zen on me in regards to war. This isn’t a painting; you can no more remove violence from war than you could feelings from love or sugar from Twinkies. I’m here only because my world is pinched between two races hell bent on seeing either to her destruction or her conquer. And for all the horror you have brought to my home, you are still somehow the lesser of two evils.”
It was true, and he had no contest. Nor did he get angry at my words. Instead, he turned and seemed to get reflective. “We were not always this way,” he said somewhat cryptically, without elaborating. “Have you the capability to negotiate on behalf of your people?”
I was upfront with Paul’s position, both in strategy and rank. I acknowledged the difficulty we were going to face convincing humanity of the Progerian intentions; I justified my own right to sit at this table; how right now, I was the de facto leader of the earth, save my wife, of course. Then I asked him. “I mean no disrespect, Asuras, but are you in a position to discuss an alliance?”
“Commanders are given great latitude to do whatever is necessary when they are on long-range missions. The universe is far too vast and the delay in getting approval from the home government would take far too long. When I am out here; I am the government. Those back on my home world are bound by my decisions; if I make ones that they do not agree with, it is possible I will be forced to step down, but the conditions will be upheld until a new settlement is made. When we received the distress signal from the Julipion, a battle force was immediately dispatched for this remote part of space. My orders were to control the situation. If the Humans could not be brought to heel quickly, we were to not risk the loss of any more equipment or personnel. Our battles with the Stryvers have taxed our resources to the brink; we are at a breaking point. We cannot sustain this war very much longer, and in you I see an ally that can finally snap the backs of those beasts.”
