Alien Empire

by Anthony Gillis

  Tayyis, Vrir, and the crew watched as the delegation assembled before them. One, in the center and wearing an approximation of an Elder robe, was clearly the spokesman or leader. Others of formal appearance gathered on either side of the leader, while another group, perhaps staff or civilians, hung back. There were no weapons visible and nowhere really to hide them.

  Vrir glanced at Driyatan. “Are your men ready?”

  “We are. Let’s form up.”

  And the six heavily armed marines assembled in front of the small landing ramp, Vrir, Tayyis, and Driyatan behind them, and the communications officer, carrying a small set of recording and related equipment, set himself up in the back of the group. The Grounders lowered the ramp, and advanced down it.

  Tayyis considered the strange similarity of the situation to their first meeting with the Elders.

  The leader and two others walked forward from the group of inhabitants.

  Tayyis watched them. One could never be sure, could never assume, about the body language of an alien species. But when the ramp lowered, and the inhabitants looked on them, she thought that their expressions and body language changed abruptly.

  Vrir had memorized what they took to be a greeting of this world, and spoke it, followed by the same in Elder. The leader and the others remained quiet, their postures rigid, but showing the slightest hint of vibration or shaking. Tayyis decided it was fear.

  The leader folded its four closely-spaced legs below itself, lowering to the ground, after a brief pause, all the others did so. Then the leader raised its arms, complex multi-fingered hands empty and spread wide.

  It spoke, in accented Elder, “Please do not hurt us. Please have mercy, terrible ones.”

  Vrir replied, “Do not fear. I am Ambassador Vrir of the planet Ground. We come to help you.”

  The leader paused, then spoke again, “You are those in the messages, the terrible ones who slaughtered many Elders, who make war against them even now, whose allies we saw dying in war against them.”

  Tayyis felt her mind reel. Skrai’kiik had doubted it would be easy to raise a revolt, but this was an interpretation of their message she hadn’t expected.

  Vrir spoke again, “We war against the Elders only because they came to enslave us, and made war upon one of our cities. The ones being killed by the Elders in those images were not our allies in war, but innocents we have never met.”

  The leader considered, and then replied, “You lie. You have selectively changed the chosen the images to show only Elders killing, not those fighting and killing them. In war, from which the Elders freed us, many may die on all sides.”

  There was some truth to the leader’s statements. The videos collected by the Elders to document their Retrogression campaigns had included many images, including armed indigenous forces fighting them, but those forces had lost swiftly, and the retribution had far outlasted the fighting.

  Vrir looked concerned. “I assure you, those in the images were not making war upon the Elders. They were living lives of peace in complete lack of knowledge of the Elders. Then the Elders arrived and demanded their obedience. When they refused, they were killed. We are like those others, except we were more fortunate, and won our first battle in defense of our home. Only then did we raise forces in space to fight the Elders.”

  The leader seemed to be calming. Its body did not shake so much in its stiff posture now. “The Elders brought us peace. Why would they bring others war? More than twelve hundred of their standard years ago, they came to us when we were divided, greedy, warlike, polluting, and gave us peace. They showed us the path to enlightenment.”

  “You,” it looked at the GDC Marines as it spoke, “bring us war. You have chosen darkness over enlightenment. You call upon us to join you in darkness, but instead you have only fear and pity from us.”

  Vrir said, in a gentle voice, “The Elders keep the truth of the galaxy from you, they demand your obedience. We are here to help you regain your freedom.”

  Tayyis, acting on instinct, interjected, “Honored one. I am Linguist Lyr. May I ask your name?”

  The leader considered, then replied, “This one is known as Planetary Speaker.”

  “Planetary Speaker, are there Elder troops nearby, are your words chosen in fear?”

  “You fear that we are being watched? Or that one of these others spies upon this one? You will see the truth of what we say,” the leader spoke something to its companions in a quick trilling language, and they rose to their feet and backed slowly away.

  “Linguist Lyr, we fear you, not the Elders. The only Elders on this world are the Ambassador and her five staff. She would be here now, but we feared what you would do to her, and begged her to stay, till she finally relented out of pity for us. They visit The Surface four times in each of their years, and shuttles land among us to share and redistribute.”

  “Planetary Speaker, when they come, do the Warden Ships settle above this city?”

  “No Linguist Lyr. Warden Ships only came to The Surface in the time of the Elders first arrival.”

  “Planetary Speaker, do all of your people speak Elder?”

  “No Linguist Lyr, it would not be culturally appropriate. Only this one and a few others chosen for experience and wisdom learn the great language of the Elders.”

  “Planetary Speaker, do you know how to work the Elder technology they give you?”

  “No Linguist Lyr, their wisdom is beyond us. We offer them fruits of the fields and the mines, as well as our humble handicrafts in return for the wondrous gifts they bring from the stars.”

  “Thank you, Planetary Speaker.”

  She turned to Vrir, and said, in Tadine, “I think this is going to make little headway in the short run. Let’s rethink things back on the ship.”

  “I agree,” said Vrir.

  And after some further formalities, they returned to the ship, and orbit.

  42

  “The news isn’t good so far, Viris.”

  “They’re not taking the bait?”

  “Quite a few simply don’t believe it could be true, because the Elders are their kindly friends from the stars, and assume it is some sort of propaganda from the true aggressors – us. There are others that think the messages are some sort of test of faith or expression of threatened wrath from the Elders themselves.”

  “Like angry gods or some such. Wonderful!”

  “Others turned out to be gigantic planet-spanning plantations with minimal industry, and either couldn’t receive or couldn’t understand our messages. There are a few, a half dozen or so where the initial submission to the Elders went less smoothly, that have some segments of their populations showing interest. The leaders we’ve met are thus far unhelpful.”

  “That’s because they have Elder ambassadors watching them.”

  “If only it were so simple. After what Tayyis encountered on the first mission, we tried arresting a few ambassadors. It did not, in general, change the underlying mindset of submission to the Elders.”

  “All right Karden, then what do you suggest.”

  “Well for one, we’re going to need to get messages out in languages native to each planet. We have to get past the gatekeepers in leadership. As popular as Elder has become here, the Elders have kept it even rarer than I’d expected on the supply worlds – the worlds like we would have become if we hadn’t fought.”

  “But more decisively, I think we’re going to have to recruit more turncoats like Skrai’kiik, work with the insights they can give, and when possible, work through them.”

  “Good luck. Tell Tayyis I think you are working her too hard.”

  “We’re all working too hard.”

  “Oh don’t I know it.”

  Karden closed the call, and looked over at Tayyis in the fading light.

  “Perhaps, my dear, it is time to pay our erstwhile friend Imni Ilyar Mneoniri a visit.”

  ///

  “Welcome my friends,” said the tall, reddish Imri, with hands o
pen in what was presumably a friendly gesture, “I see that at last, you need something from me.”

  Tayyis smiled. Karden managed something that might pass for one to an alien.

  “And so we do, Ilyar, we have questions,” said Karden.

  “Ah, but you see Historian Professor Karden, I find myself most unable focus my mind, or recall even simple facts in this cramped and frightening cell. Perhaps if you were to arrange some measure of freedom, under such custodial supervision as you see fit. It might help me think more clearly.”

  “You have nowhere really you can go, in any case,” replied Karden.

  “Not without being noticed. I am, as you have seen, about half again taller than the average Grounder, as tall as an Elder in power armor, in fact, although alas, less intimidating. Then there is my alien appearance. So as you can see, if escape were my goal, I would be selling my help rather cheaply.”

  “Whether it is really so cheap depends on what your help does for us.”

  “True enough. Well, shall we go then?”

  And so, with a squad of quite unsmiling GDC guards, they gave Ilyar a tour of the Southern city where he was being kept. He seemed to find all to his liking, but was especially interested in the workings of commerce on Ground.

  “Wonderful! So much activity, so many timely responses to needs and desires, and yet so little central management! It reminds me of an Imri world.”

  “Ilyar” asked Karden, “are the Imri exempt from the central planning that seems to govern the rest of the Galactic Protectorate?”

  “Only in part, Professor Karden. We voluntarily joined with the Elders some four thousand standard years ago, and have thereby reaped certain benefits in all the time since. You may consider yourselves fortunate that I am a bit of an amateur historian.”

  Ilyar continued, “About two-thirds of us live on Imri worlds. There, we have internal self-management, and so follow a policy of economic freedom. However we are restricted by law from founding new colonies without authorization, which is rarely granted. Interstellar trade is closely regulated, and licensed free traders, whether Imri or otherwise, are few. However, it is a necessary function…”

  “As a safety valve?” asked Tayyis.

  “Much more than that! The centrally planned interstellar system of sharing and redistribution, as they call it, is woefully inefficient and often fails to deliver goods when they are needed. It is part of why, for all their often amazing competence, it takes the Elders so much time to get their logistics organized.”

  “And so you go from world to world filling those needs?” asked Karden.

  “Not all worlds. Perhaps it is time to start with a somewhat more coherent explanation. The Galactic Protectorate divides all sentient-inhabited worlds in the Galaxy into four categories: Primitive, Supply, Production, and Administrative.”

  “Primitive worlds such as yours are ignored, except for surreptitious research, until they become sufficiently advanced or otherwise useful to be worth the effort of integration.”

  “Supply worlds are in several categories. The first two, the majority, about a hundred thousand, are former primitive worlds that have been integrated. Some, mostly older ones conquered before the Protectorate, were much more primitive than you at the time. All are kept isolated, static, and dependent on the Elders, lest they become a threat like the Ara’kaa, or you. Most of the other forty-five thousand are mining colonies and the like and are similar to the Production worlds, which I shall now explain.”

  “There are about fifty thousand Production worlds, and they are kept from being threats by opposite means. They have polyglot populations, carefully comprised of a balance of advanced races, such as Tsamier, Ara’kaa, Vt’k’k, Daltaran, and Shulgar, absorbed by the Elders prior to the development of the modern system. No one race is allowed to predominate on any individual world, lest they get ideas.”

  “Also classed as Production worlds, though wealthier and anything but polyglot, are several thousand ancient Elder colonies in their general region of the galaxy. The populations of those worlds are largely Elder, save for a few Laderathai servants, and such individuals as they consider sufficiently enlightened to live like Elders.”

  “Our sixty-two Imri worlds are technically Production worlds, but gratefully, we have special exemption from the relocation and population control policies because we have, for four thousand years, never caused the Elders any trouble. We are allowed to trade at Production and Administrative worlds, but are strictly forbidden, under threat of punishments too unpleasant to contemplate, to trade at Primitive and Supply worlds.”

  “Finally, the Administrative worlds are Earth and the Sector Capitals. They are almost entirely concerned with government and military work, and dependent on external supply.”

  “The central planning system of the Elders is principally concerned with interstellar trade and the overarching goals assigned to planets. Though there is plenty of ill-conceived regulation on production worlds, it does not extend all the way down. Even the Elders are not so blinded by enlightenment as to imagine an entire economy can be run, in minutest detail, through command and control.”

  Karden considered all of what he’d heard “You mentioned there being free traders other than Imri.”

  “Indeed, though we are the majority of them. There is a substantial minority of misfit or otherwise nonconforming Elders, and a smattering of others.”

  “Do you predominate because of your relative independence, or some natural gift for trade.”

  “Certainly not the latter! Such was not our original role in the ancient regime, the Imperium. I would say that as their systems of rule have evolved over time, we have adapted our culture to fill a certain niche. As for our independence, it has led to highly concentrated populations and a great deal of economic output on our worlds. We now outnumber the Elders, in fact.”

  “And I imagine, out-produce them” added Tayyis.

  “Certainly, but since they produce almost nothing other than cultural output like writing, music, and art, that isn’t difficult. The Elders generally disdain personal wealth, and see the honorable means of living well as increased rewards from the state in proportion to magnitude of service. I suppose an exception might be their old colonies, which are home to quite a few nonconforming members of their race.”

  “It might surprise you to know that the Protectorate itself was born as a reform effort, of a sort. In the wake of the Ara’kaa war, it overthrew a system that was in some ways more autocratic and certainly more arbitrary, yet in other ways, especially economic, freer. Three thousand years ago we Imri were no richer than the average of the Imperium. Now after millennia of stagnation, our per-capita income is higher by a multiple than the rest of the Protectorate.”

  Thank you Ilyar,” said Karden, “I think you’ve given us some insights into how to grapple with them, including structural vulnerabilities.”

  “I have given you nothing you couldn’t have eventually pieced together yourselves from communications and captured databases. If you are looking for ACTIONABLE information, it will cost you a good deal more than a tour of this city and a bit of liberty for me.”

  Tayyis eyed him curiously, “And why would you want risk being considered a traitor in return for some gifts from us?”

  “I will not be a traitor, not to the Imri, and not to myself, and I want a lot more than some gifts. Though I think the odds are against you, you also have some astonishing advantages. For one, there is your new rift method of instantaneous travel. For another, there is the cultural adaptability that has allowed you to take captured Elder technology, copy it, and make effective use of it in a timeframe so short that I suspect it is unprecedented in galactic history.”

  “Therefore, I am placing a very high-risk bet on your success. If I help you, I want sufficient wealth to get a proper trading enterprise started here on ground. And, I want to be the initial contact point with others, whether free traders or the currently woefully hobbled private b
usinesses on the production worlds, as you expand your network of communications.”

  “So you want us to make you some sort of licensed monopolist on trade in parts of the galaxy that join with us?” asked Karden.

  “Not at all. That would be counterproductive and would sooner or later result in my destruction by political means at the hands of resentful others. I merely want the initial opportunity as your… official trade spokesman.”

  “You drive quite bargain, Ilyar, but it still seems an enormous step to take simply for money.”

  “Professor Karden, consider that it is possible for my self-interest to coincide with my beliefs. I think the system of supposed enlightenment has squandered incalculable resources, allowed the potential of an entire galaxy to languish underutilized for three thousand years, and extracted a high price in personal liberty. If I can be an agent of change in ending that system, I will have done something great.”

  “To start,” he added, “You would be wise to focus your efforts at insurrection on Production worlds.”

  “Ilyar, what about other free traders, or the Imri in general? How many more do you think might help?”

  “Not many. Everything we Imri have built depends on remaining harmless. Most of my people are unlikely to switch sides unless they are sure you are winning. As for the Elder free traders, they might be outcasts, but they are still Elders. I suspect they would indeed see themselves as traitors for helping you, and so won’t. Perhaps now, the smattering of others…”

  ///

  Under the blue sky and bright sun of the Elder homeworld, Earth, the golden dome of the Galactic Central Presidium gleamed brilliantly. Inside, polished marble glittered and intricate artwork was shown to its best effect by light filtering through lofty windows.

  Hundreds of Elders in blue and gold robes, and a handful of members of other species similarly dressed, debated with solemn intensity from tiers of raised seats ringed around the inlayed floor. Staffers in blue uniforms stood at attention below. A heavyset Elder in robes richer than the others stood at a podium at the back of the chamber. To any who did not know the Elders, it would have seemed a scene of calm, even detachment, as if nothing unpleasant had happened, could ever have happened.