Star Kitten

by Purple Hazel

  However, back on Earth during this same period, the gradual disillusionment with Interplanetary Authority and its malaise in dealing with pirates, smugglers, and clandestine markets had evolved into a real bitterness and occasionally fanned into open hostility. Firebrand conservatives even campaigned for earth’s secession from the planetary union. But eventually a brand new development would offer an opportunity for all these factions to try and push for drastic change, because… it was soon going to be Earth’s turn to host the Galactic Convention!

  The Galactic Convention of course, occurred every 4.3 Earth years (or one “Galactic Year”) so when it fell on a March according to Earth calendars, a choice for its location had to be determined that would be hospitable to other creatures visiting from other planets. Several cities were considered, eliminating locations which would be forbiddingly cold for species like Zorgolongians and Slartigifijians who came from lush tropical planets. Also, the location would have to be a city that was capable of hosting such a massive event. Hotel space was an issue for one thing, and also a newer looking facility would be desirable which could host the assembly itself. Cities like New Orleans and Miami were long gone now, submerged hundreds of feet below the sea. Europe was still in the throes of winter. So Southern California was finally chosen, and preparations were made for the visitors from other planets; as well as choosing an Earth delegation that would properly represent Earth’s economic interests.

  This started a wave of political activity that captivated the public and the ever-opportunistic media for months beforehand! And perhaps the knowledge of this event coming up served to fuel the campaigning and protests going on (especially during the weeks leading up to the convention). Delegates from other planets arrived at Earth space ports almost besieged by reporters pestering them for comments or opinions regarding the throngs of protesters outside. What’s more… families and workers displaced by the economic turmoil caused by the collapse of Earth’s mining industry actually traveled from all over the planet to southern California and actually “camped” in tent cities outside the convention site located in what was now called… “New Los Angeles”.

  A devastating earthquake had leveled much of the original city of Los Angeles several decades earlier, but even in the aftermath of the debacle, the city center could not safely be rebuilt. Massive fires engulfed the city and nearby hillsides for weeks after the main series of tremors ended. Then within a year, tidal waves wiped out much of what the Earthquake did not level initially, turning the Los Angeles Valley into an uninhabitable wasteland with toxic air and LA’s famous hazy fog trapping those fumes in the region for several years thereafter.

  The survivors at first moved away to safer areas; but many vowed to return and rebuild. Eventually the city fathers decided to just move the city inland and start over. Towns and outlying areas to the east simply combined into what the locals then started calling “New Los Angeles” and the name gradually stuck. New Los Angeles not only returned to prominence, it quickly became a trading and economic center once again, the equal of most other mega-cities on the planet.

  Facing nearly desert-like conditions, the tent city families braved the hot, dry southern California inland climate and set up their camp. It soon became a mecca for displaced out of work families to travel to from all over the world. Of course conservative political action groups gladly bankrolled their journeys by generously funding “charities” (most of which were set up by churches at first) to support the cause. The tent city sprang up and swelled in population outside the convention center for weeks, prior to the opening of the convention. So by the time foreign delegations arrived, thousands and thousands of these bitterly angry men and women were rolling out of their thermal sleeping bags and tents each morning to stage protests, sing protest songs, and frankly just join right in with the burgeoning throng. Each day they gobbled up the free food “provided by supportive volunteer groups”, then followed the crowds to the daily rallies or demonstrations. Bands played. Speakers representing various causes stirred them up into a frenzy in the desert heat. It was quite a scene… and oh yes, the media had a field day. Reporters and camera crews were literally everywhere every day filming and capturing emotional sound bites for the 24 hour news network machine.

  The press even coined a phrase from one of their many chants, which evolved into a nickname for the protest movement itself: “Dignity for Diggers!” was what they’d often chant….

  “All we’re asking for is dignity!” screamed the man with the bullhorn. “We just want to work and support our families!” cried the haggard but quite well-fed mother of three to the reporter. “A dignified job with a dignified income!” another protester screamed. That’s what a lot of them would say, too. If they couldn’t work, they’d be reduced to the social stigma of living on government assistance; and essentially “live below the poverty line” (whatever that really meant). That was humiliating for humans, apparently. So here they all were, tens of thousands of them at one point. They were former miners, food service personnel, repairmen, construction workers, or machinists who’d rode that amazing five year wave of booming opportunity. They’d married or started families. They’d started new lives too!

  They had gone from poorly paid retail clerks or day laborers to digging up mineral ore and energy crystals on earth space colonies. They had gone from living in government housing, cheap bug infested apartments, or modular home parks… to fancy clean new housing on exotic planets—or the moons of Earth-controlled colonies.

  Many could just go out and work six months and have enough money to pay off past due hover car loans or credit accounts. Most all of them could work ten months out of the year and then go home to earth with 60 days paid vacation and full benefits year round. There were even stories of families who’d been in homes going into foreclosure… then Dad or Mom got some sort of mining, service, or construction job and in less than five years they’d made enough to pay off their defaulted mortgage or pay cash for a new family hover car.

  But now these “diggers” were displaced, laid off, and right back on government assistance, where many had started. Sure, they were proud. No denying that. “We don’t want nobody’s pity,” as one incredibly hairy man with a bushy reddish-brown beard put it. Fate had dealt them all a bad hand of cards; but reality was they’d tasted of the good life and now they desperately wanted it back (felt they deserved it somehow). At their demonstrations they yelled and screamed “DIGGERS!” so often, the press couldn’t help but just grab hold of the term and finally reporters started calling them that. “Mine workers” was too general of a title. Digger was what they were. Digger was what they did. Digger was also what they identified themselves as once being. Thus, the press began calling it the “Digger Movement.”

  Of course, other species in the galaxy were often quite amused and even downright confused with Earthers and their strange arrogance—even within their lower peasant classes. Their pride was so eccentric and bizarre. After all, to Pumalars, Porkonjii, Schpleeftii, Slartigifijians, and Zorgolongians… the peasant classes were in that reduced state of existence for a reason, just like noblemen and the wealthy merchant class clearly deserved to live the way they did in comfort and opulence. No one deserved to have more than they'd earned, achieved personally, or inherited. But Earther peasants apparently saw things differently. They seemed to think they deserved to have their jobs back; and that “someone” should do something about it. What’s more they were quite adamant about getting on camera to tell everyone all about it!

  But that’s just what the firebrand conservatives and hawkish military industrial complex needed them to do. The media jumped right on that bandwagon too; milking it for every possible ratings advantage. “The people demand answers… the planet demands action!” screamed the protester wearing a hard hat and armed with a megaphone. The cameras recorded it all; and the news stations splashed video screens all over the galaxy with images of chanting, wailing, singing, and crying humans thrusting their
fists into the air. It was great entertainment!

  To be fair… who was really responsible for returning them all to their lowly status as recipients of public assistance and family food credits? Why, the Earth mining companies of course! It was the mining companies that hired them and then later laid them off when business slowed down. But the even easier culprit to blame was the government: The Interplanetary Authority… and of course that evil black market so shrouded in mystery. Blame them! And the securities market, which no one could really understand anyway—all those corrupt traders taking advantage of wild swings in commodities prices. Blame them too! Best of all, there was this prevailing belief that Rijel 12 was actually the source of all the cheap energy crystals. Blame the pirates then! All these organizations or places were easier to blame than their former employers who’d simply shut down unprofitable businesses and given them a pink slip.

  Other species could only shake their heads and wonder… why don’t they just go find another job? Maybe it just made their lives more interesting to try and get on the news. To the viewer on another planet it most assuredly looked that way. After all, what could they possibly hope to accomplish by just whining and complaining on camera? Just what could any politician do to help them anyway, besides console them and make empty promises to them come election time? Ironically, most any individual human with reasonable intelligence would at least profess knowing that they were all just being used by the powers that be, and nothing could be done for them. Yet here they were, thousands of them, demanding that something be done. But by whom? And what—if anything—could be accomplished with their protests?

  That’s what was always so confusing about humans. They seemed to be completely naïve about things at times; yet fiercely distrustful and suspicious at other times. As the famously wise old Pumalar Fleet Admiral Felis Silvestris once put it, “Be careful of humans. They are so accustomed to lying… they can’t even believe what’s in their own hearts.” Slartigifijians put it differently. Architeuthis once told an overwrought and overworked Solomon Mwonga, “It is the way with your species you see, my friend… you let your emotions confuse your intelligence; then you turn right around and let your intelligence confound your emotions. Your heart doesn’t know which one to believe.”

  When Galactic Convention finally convened and began discussing matters of importance, the hot issue brought forward early on by the Earth delegation was the clandestine trading of energy crystals, precious gemstones, silver and other mineral ores, and most importantly the issue of Rijel 12 being the likely source of all these. If this planet truly was the origin; as well as a base for pirate raids then a military mission to investigate and reconnoiter the planet was long overdue. That’s what Earth proposed. What’s more: Earth delegation proposed sending this armed reconnaissance using Star Fleet forces to Rijel 12 and find out first hand if this was indeed the deadly pirate base everyone had imagined. Debate against the proposal was swift and furious.

  “Non-sssense!” argued the Zorgolongian delegation leader. “This is jussst Earther economic imperialism.” And essentially they were right. Earth had once tried solving its energy and raw mineral ore needs by turning an entire planet into a working mine using prison labor. “Now,” chuckled the Zorgolongian delegation leader (a rather grotesque lizard named Vraaak), “theez same greedy Earthmen want us-sss to use Star Fleet’s-sss power to crush their economic rival. The same competitor, mind you, that they s-sssought all our help creating s-ssso many years ago in the first place!” This brought a surge of retorts from the Earth delegation, realizing now that the Zorgolongian delegate had basically just admitted having a complete knowledge of Rijel 12 as the true source. The hundred or so Zorgolongians in the delegation all laughed derisively, which made it worse. Of course they all knew the minerals were coming from Rijel 12! Why conceal their knowledge anymore? And some of the Porkonji delegation laughed right along with them. Now it was all quite out in the open; and the “gloves were about to come off.”

  By way of comparison, the Pumalars were not in the slightest bit amused. Amidst the chattering Zorg laughter and snorting giggles from the Porkonjii, the Pumalar leader rose from his chair. “It’s so very ironic isn’t it?” yelled the Pumalar delegation chairman. “My esteemed counterpart from Zorgolong knows very well how his own planet benefits from cheap black market energy crystals. Yet he has the shameful audacity to taunt our honorable hosts with this!” The Zorgolongians hissed their resentment; while the Porkonji delegates chuckled just a little more subtly at the brash comment from the big cat. True, Porkonji traders were getting discounted energy crystals and mineral ore too; but it was always just so entertaining to watch Zorgs and Pumalars argue and squabble with each other.

  Of course it could get dangerous! These two species had once warred upon each other for decades… resulting in the deaths of millions… but that had been long, long ago. The resentments still lingered between the two species, oh yes. However both sides had years before realized the futility of interplanetary war.

  The war that had begun between Zorgolong and Pumalar so many years before; began with minor skirmishes in space between ships trying to colonize planets for additional resources and food. In effect, the two species found each other distasteful or even downright disgusting right from the start; and the arrogance of Pumalars regarding their reputation for honor and integrity ran face first into the Zorgolongian’s abhorrent reputation for dishonesty and shifty negotiating practices. Conflict was bound to result from this mutual disdain. Zorgs considered Pumalars to be stupid and naïve while Pumalars underestimated the Zorgolongian’s innate tenacity. Both sides were completely wrong about each other; and both sides had really no idea how terribly long and bloody the conflict would be when they finally declared open warfare upon each other.

  Pumalar ground forces were the best in the galaxy at the time; but capturing large amounts of territory accomplished little for them. Zorgs would simply isolate enemy forward units occupying captured cities and obliterate them with nuclear missiles—even incinerating their own fellow Zorgolongians still trapped in those areas. Pumalars would retaliate by fanning out and slaughtering entire populations of Zorgolongian civilians in reprisal, destroying farms and factories and economic infrastructure in the process. Zorg fleets would retaliate by flying to Pumalar and level entire Pumalar cities with nuclear attacks; only to be overwhelmed and obliterated by Pumalar patrol squadrons before they could escape to the relative safety of the Zorgolongian star system.

  There was no possible victory to be achieved. Only more deaths and more massacres occurred as momentum shifted back and forth between the warring powers. Total war was accomplishing nothing for either side other than the destruction of their societies and decimation of entire generations of healthy young males and females. Peace negotiations were impossible too. There was just too much bitterness between the two species. Pumalars would never trust the Zorgolongians to live up to any peace treaty; and Zorgolongians considered the Pumalars to be nothing more than gigantic snarling morons who deserved to be deceived. For years it went on like that, until both sides were militarily and financially exhausted.

  It was only then, after years of devastating war, that the Slartigifijians stepped in to broker a peace accord; and all the other planets joined them in creating the original Interplanetary Authority which had maintained peace in the galaxy for so many years since. The lesson had been learned… at least back then anyway… that war accomplishes nothing but death and destruction. No one really wins; and only the dead will ever see an end to the suffering that it brings.

  The Slartigifijians finally weighed in with their opinion on the Earth proposal as well; once the sniping and bickering subsided. They had learned long ago to just let the two cultures have their little arguments until they’d got it out of their systems a bit. Also, Slarts were innately gifted in being patient during these little spats between the Pumalars and Zorgolongians. It paid off sometimes in that as the exchanges grew gradually
more heated, both sides would point out well-hidden facts or make assertions about each other which needed to be discussed.

  The Slart chairmain, a rather feeble old squid named Pharynx, argued against the armed intervention of Star Fleet in regard to Rijel 12; and especially not to do so on behalf of the mining companies of Earth. Such an effort would be both unnecessary and unrewarding. An economic solution to the problem was in order; not a military one. Clearly in the arguments between the Pumalar delegation and the Zorg delegation, it had become clear that the Zorgolongian economy was benefiting from the supply of minerals and energy crystals via the black market. Mainly, it had driven down the prices of these resources (prices which had been maintained at a lofty level by the Earth mining companies attempting to control them after the fall of New Australia Planetary Prison). This benefited the mining companies’ bottom line, yes. But it also taxed other planets’ economies. Pumalar benefited from this clandestine trade too; even if they had little access to the black market directly, because mineral and crystal prices had indeed fallen dramatically in the previous galactic year (about 4.3 earth years).

  But most of all, in Pharynx’s view, “As an alliance of intelligent species, we all know we committed a terrible wrong. ALL of our ancestors did; back when we opened the planetary prison on Rijel 12. And now we have reaped what we have sowed. Why are we so surprised and befuddled now by the dilemma we face today? There is no doubt in many of our minds that the survivors of that horrific rebellion at New Australia Planetary Prison years ago have found a way to live there and devised a way to prosper, despite the challenges they must have faced. That said, the pirate raids… have all but stopped. Pirate bases all over the galaxy have been wiped out. Star Fleet patrols have been responsible for some of these eliminations, yes. Yet evidence has shown that many more have been destroyed by other pirates. The pirate alliance that we once feared never materialized.”