The Blockade

by Jean Johnson

  “How goes the dispersion of the Terran devices?” she asked. “And do we have Salik prisoners on their way to divulge the location of their important bases?”

  “There are prisoners, yes,” one of the officers off to the starboard of the bridge stated. “The Solaricans managed to capture a bridge crew intact.” She nodded at her screen. “Leftenant Jons-tun is on board Shuttle 312-6, and will reach their ship in less than ten mi-nah.”

  “Eighty-five percent of the BM-class devices have been launched, Admiral, but only sixty-three percent of the MT-class are still on board. The rest are in the queue for launch,” another added. “The gunnery teams estimate the last of them will be released in the next three mi-nah, and will be sufficiently spread out after another twenty.”

  “Excellent. You may now open the link, full video,” A’quon directed.

  Taq’enez shifted, stretching out his arms while holding himself back and to the right, touching the controls so that the center screen displayed a greenish-blue figure with bulbous bright yellow eyes. Once again, the view was from above, showing a good portion of the alien’s torso. This Salik, however, wore fitted garments in a russet red a bit too brown to be Imperial scarlets but which went rather well with his skin tones.

  At least, to her Human eyes. For a bizarre moment, Jackie wondered if the Salik cultural mind-set believed in certain body parts being accented for attractiveness. Back on Earth several centuries back, male Humans had worn false padding inside their stockings to make their calves look more shapely, in the name of fashion. Low-cut gowns for women had come and gone in fashion. There had even been a fad for highly toned arms at one point, back before the AI War. She had no idea what Salik physiology would be considered attractive, however.

  “Who sspeaksh for the Alliancsse?” the alien requested, dark pupil slits narrowing slightly as he focused on images being displayed on his side of the connection. “A V’Dan? A . . . juffenile?”

  Without prompting—Jackie knew she had not projected telepathically—Taq’enez did something to the controls that projected an image of Jackie herself on the monitor to the right of the main one, and an image of A’quon on the screen to the left, leaving the Salik in the center. He nodded subtly in silent satisfaction and sat back, waiting for the next moment he might be needed.

  “I am Admiral A’quon of the V’Dan Empire, aboard the Imperial Warship The Hard-Handed Judgment. I speak for the Alliance fleet in this system. I am assisted in the command of this battlefield by Grand High Ambassador Maq’en-zi of the Terran government,” she added.

  Jackie had given her a telepathic translation session on the very first day she had boarded the V’Goro J’sta, but the soft, relaxed kuh of her family name was not nearly the same as the more shaped kooh of the glottally shaped q the V’Dan were used to using.

  “I am Grand Hhhigh Governor Shhnaq-wzz-Tiell,” the Salik replied. His accent when speaking V’Dan came across a bit differently than the other Salik Jackie had met. Not that she’d heard all that many speak so far, of course. “Your forcesh are sstrong. You hhave acquired ffictorry hhere.” A pause, and the governor of Pwok bared his teeth in a challenging smile. “I wonderr how many other placesh your people have losht because you are hherre annd not therrre.”

  A’quon did not rise to the bait. “You have lost your orbital defenses, Governor Sh’naq-wuzz-Tiell. You have insufficient ships in this system to defend your territory. Your military bases are going to be identified and destroyed. Once they are rubble, the rest of Pwok will be destroyed, piece by piece, until you surrender.”

  Jackie watched the Salik’s expressions. She had walked inside their minds, learned how they viewed the world. She couldn’t see the exact same colors a Salik saw, so she was missing a few social cues from subtle shifts in skin tone, missing some of the near-infrared wavelengths Human eyes just couldn’t pick up, but she did notice a subtle dimpling in the skin of the skull between the eyes and nostril-flaps. (He’s worried.)

  (Good. Let him and his people suffer.)

  She sighed roughly in her mind, ignoring the response the governor gave the Admiral. (I don’t like them either, Li’eth, but—)

  (—Jackie, there were rumors that this world had a primitive sentient race developing on it when the Salik first settled here a hundred years ago.) He stared at her. (The Salik claimed they were nothing more than dumb herd animals . . . which they ate alive. “Animals” that used tools. I’ve seen some smuggled vid of it. Don’t you Terrans classify tool-using animals as the nine-tenths? And give them extra protections, the great apes, the cetaceans?)

  (Then we should be even more careful in attacking them.)

  (The Salik have only been on this world for a hundred years,) he told her. (That “herd animal” hasn’t been seen by any V’Dan for over five years. They ate them all. Hundreds of thousands of the beings eaten alive, as their people flocked to that world to go on vacation, hunting and eating those beings. They even advertised the species as going extinct, “. . . so get a last bite while you can!” And while there might be a few left somewhere, I doubt it.

  (Just before the war started, I was told Pwok’s internal tourism had tapered off in the last five years,) he added grimly. (I don’t think they ever quite learned how to successfully breed those beings. They do know how we breed.)

  That statement came with an unpleasant underthought packet of V’Dan and Humans penned in cages, naked and prodded into producing more “herd animals.” Her stomach churned when she realized those subthoughts were what the V’Dan Empire believed was happening to their captured colonists, not just what Li’eth believed personally.

  “. . . and I do not undershtannnd why you show me a jufenille the same shcreen as you. Is thish shupposed to be inntimidatinng?” the governor asked, redrawing her attention to the screen.

  Only to have it distracted again by V’Dan lettering scrolling along the edge of her screen, warning her that the first of the Terran bombs were within range of the first known target, estimated time of impact ten V’Dan mi-nah. Along with it came the information that two of the K’Katta carrier ships still had fighters out there and were able and willing to provide escort for covering fire.

  Shifting her hands to the keys, she typed in her orders, accustomed after all these months to using V’Dan equipment with V’Dan lettering and V’Dan command codes. Beside her, Taq’enez shifted a little in his seat, no doubt to either caution her or warn her or offer to do it himself, but he didn’t say anything aloud since that could send his voice to the alien governor. Watching her work, he subsided again, apparently content that she did seem to know what she was doing.

  As she typed, she spoke. “Governor Sh’naq, allow me to enlighten your ignorance. I am a Terran. Not a V’Dan. Please do not make the mistake of thinking that because we look alike, we are not different. My people are allied with, but not actual members of, the V’Dan Empire. We do not think like them, and we do not take orders from them.

  “We are, however, giving you a joint ultimatum from the V’Dan Empire and the Terran United Planets, as well as from the other Alliance races. I am giving you a decent chance, Governor, to surrender immediately and completely, if you wish for your citizens to survive. When you do, you will be treated fairly under the terms we will impose upon your people. In the meantime, you have ten mi-nah to evacuate all personnel from your military bases. I suggest whoever is monitoring this broadcast send the evacuation signal immediately if you wish to save their lives.”

  The alien blinked his eye membranes as he looked up at her. “Hhyou think to order—”

  “—This is not a negotiation, Governor,” Jackie stated, her expression implacable as she sent the final command. “Those bases will be destroyed. Pwok is the first Salik colonyworld to fall under the hammer of Terran assistance. We acknowledge that you lack the interstellar communications we possess. We acknowledge that this means this scene will have to be repeat
ed multiple times on multiple worlds because we acknowledge each world’s governor will not believe what we are capable of doing to enemies who insist upon fighting us.

  “But we are not unduly cruel. We hope to use the recordings of what is about to happen to your world to warn your fellow citizens how it is much better to surrender fully and swiftly, rather than be annihilated one city at a time.”

  “You will nnnot deshtroy our citiess,” the governor scorned. “The K’Katta will nnot allow it.”

  “On the contrary, Governor. Your people have finally pushed the Alliance too far. Even the K’Katta have agreed to annihilate you if you do not surrender,” she stated. “Let me explain to you something about the Terran mind-set, Governor. My grandfather, who was a major government figure, taught me as a child to be nice. To always be nice first, wherever and whenever possible.”

  From the way those nostril-flaps flexed, the Salik was not impressed. Jackie continued, gaze flicking occasionally to the secondary screens showing some of the BM-class casings headed into the atmosphere at different locations, K’katta fighter craft providing covering fire against what appeared to be defensive laser and missile strikes being launched from the surface. To her satisfaction, those lasers didn’t even dent the ceristeel casings.

  “My grandfather explained that if we started out being mean, no one would ever believe it when we tried being nice later on. He also explained that if you pretend to be nice in order to hide the fact that you fully intend to be mean, then that isn’t actually, honestly nice,” she stressed, looking at the alien again. “V’Dan, Solarican, and K’Katta military-intelligence reports all confirm that since this war started, you have stated you joined the Alliance under the pretense of being ‘nice’ only so that you could lull everyone into a false sense of friendship.

  “You pretended to be nice in order to gain access to and improve upon everyone else’s advanced technologies, and to await the time when you could build up your forces large enough, supplemented by those technologies, to go to war against everyone else. With the expressed purpose of eating fellow sentient beings while they are still alive,” she added, looking at Sh’naq-wzz-Tiell. “That qualifies very solidly as ‘not nice’ in the Terran perspective.

  “It is also important, my grandfather instructed me, to punish those who are not nice in a way that is appropriate to the current circumstances. Sometimes, it is simply telling them what went wrong, trying to elicit empathy and sympathy for those they have harmed emotionally or physically, perhaps even requiring them to make amends, take lessons in anger management, pay for medical treatments, and so forth. Sometimes it requires economic sanctions against those who create economic havoc. But in war, Governor . . . you are trying to destroy us on the most fundamental level. You are trying to slaughter my species and the other sentient races in the Alliance.

  “Your people are ‘not nice,’ Governor. Your government is ‘not nice.’ You are ‘not nice’ in the worst of ways. So we must punish you until you agree to be nice . . . at which point, when you show you can be nice, we will resume being nice to you. Five mi-nah to finish your evacuations. If your people hurry, they should be out of the worst of the blast radius.”

  The governor made a sort of snorting, whistling sound, blinking twice. It was, Jackie knew from her language translation, a Salik statement cursing ancient troublesome water spirits. He switched back to V’Dan. “Your weaponsh are tiny. We are not impresshed.”

  “They are capable of being huge,” she corrected. “As we speak, each one is being calibrated to the exact acreage of each targeted military base. The known bases, that is. But we are not worried. We will soon have knowledge of the hidden bases as well.”

  Those pupils widened slightly, one stubby eye rotating to look off to the side at some other screen. “They arerr radioactif? You break Allianshe law by using radioactif weaponsh?”

  “They are not radioactive, Governor. We have no interest in poisoning your biosphere.” She paused, then allowed, “Of course, you’ll still have massive sonic shock waves to contend with, and probably some firestorms at the epicenters. But no nuclear fallout sickening the terrain for generations.”

  “You do not haff to deshtroy ush,” Governor Sh’naq said.

  “Do you surrender completely?” Jackie asked, fingers poised over the keys.

  “We demand timmme to discussh this with our citizens,” he prevaricated. “Call off your bombsh.”

  “No.” She spoke flatly, holding his gaze. Reluctant though she was to think like a Salik, she still tried. “This is your deep warning, Governor. The destruction of your military infrastructure has been mandated by the entire Alliance. The Terrans, my people, have agreed to carry it out. Your facilities that manufacture and maintain your starships, weapons, troop transports, and all similar support mechanisms for your military efforts will be destroyed, regardless of how fast or slow you surrender.

  “The only thing your surrender gains is a little bit more of the time needed to evacuate your personnel from those facilities. However, as we are aware that could be taken to mean giving you plenty of time to evacuate weapons and war machines . . . we will only give you just enough time to evacuate your fellow sentients, even if you do surrender. Terran warriors are not juveniles, Governor, for all we do appear to be unmarked V’Dan,” she finished. “When it comes to war, we do not play games.”

  “We are broadcasting this warning in all lightwave frequencies to any and all ships coming in from the outer edges of this system,” Admiral A’quon added. “If you attack this fleet, you, too, will be considered a part of the Salik military structure, and you will be destroyed.”

  (I should probably be absolutely clear in communicating our intent, shouldn’t I?) Jackie asked Li’eth.

  (Yes, you should,) he agreed. (Hopefully, it will make them realize they should surrender while they can.)

  Nodding, she shaped her lips around what syllables, consonants, and sounds she could make, but actually spoke using the sonokinetic portion of her holokinetic gift. “Ssnnash-gwish-plich guwash a-shaa svik twee-plish-znng . . .”

  The Governor’s eyes widened, pupils dilating. He interrupted her, nostril-flaps whistling in his astonishment. “You speak Sallhash! You speak it without the biology to speak it!”

  “. . . Terrans are not V’Dan, Governor. I am a specialist in languages, as well as a high-ranked official for both my government and our military forces,” she explained, replying in the same tongue. Or rather, as the Salik said in their own language, replying with the same nostrils, even if hers were nothing like a Salik’s. “As I was saying, we are going to destroy your military infrastructure, whether or not you surrender. If you do not surrender, we will finish destroying your military bases, supply depots, manufacturing plants and so forth, and move on to targets that provide support services to your military.

  “We are aware that this includes civilian targets. We are aware we will be destroying shops, houses, farmlands, and crèche-ponds. As you may have noticed,” she added, replicating just the right whistle-flap smack to indicate the Salik equivalent of sardonic dryness in one’s tone, “we brought enough bombs with us to ruin every major settlement, above and beyond your military sites.”

  He stared up at her with one eye, the same eye as before glancing off to the side. “Five V’Dan mi-nah have passed, Juvenile,” Sh’naq-wzz-Tiell retorted. “Your warnings are toothless.”

  “My deep warnings were planned to give your people a gap of time to get evacuated off base,” she told him. “We’ve thrown in a few extra after that window closes to allow your people a chance to escape the shock-wave radius of the blast, too. Of course, we have never detonated one of these bombs in your particular atmosphere. Hopefully, we haven’t underestimated that radius.”

  “You speak as though you care about us,” he scorned. “Yet you move to destroy us.”

  “Terrans, Governor, prefer peace and
cooperation. However, unlike the K’Katta, we can become quite ruthless when roused to fight. Particularly when taking the steps necessary to end all fighting.” She lifted her chin up, knowing that in Salik gestural language, looking at him out of the bottoms of her eyes in the Salik blind spot meant she didn’t consider him much of a threat. “The Alliance has decided to end this war swiftly, to save the lives of its member species. We are willing to give you a chance to survive, but since you are no longer a part of the Alliance, you are no longer on the list of those who need to survive.”

  V’Dan text scrolled down the side of her monitors, informing her that the first bombs had been detonated. On the other side of the commlink, it took a few more seconds for the results to appear. Two sharp pulses of light flared down on either side of Sh’naq’s face. The Salik colonial leader swiveled both of his eyes sharply to one side, then snapped them to the other, checking his own secondary screens.

  “Decide quickly, Governor. If you do decide to surrender, we will give you an extra fifteen mi-nah to evacuate your people.”

  Two more bright flashes came in from either side. A fifth flash. Three more. The K’Katta had already streaked away from the blast sites, their escort duties done. On her own monitors, she had many more sites to watch, all of them viewed from orbit; that made them look like tiny blips of light, followed by dark-boiling clouds of smoke, compared to whatever closer images the colonial leader saw.

  “You destroyed a suburb with that hit!” Sh’naq protested, nostril-flaps fluttering in his agitation, his pupils widening. “You destroyed civilians!”

  She didn’t know which site he referred to, but knew from the briefings the other Alliance members had given them that some of the bases on Pwok wrapped around the towns providing support services to the technicians and troops. “It is regrettable, but explosions of this size are difficult to shape in a way that protects a specific wedge tucked into the sphere of its destruction. Particularly a wedge that supports the functioning of your military aggressions.”