by Joshua Guess
The muted buzz of conversation in a smattering of languages died as Kitur raised a hand for silence. She took a long, sweeping look at the beings gathered around the table. I knew this was theater on her part; that woman had the brainpower of any five people I knew. She was meeting eyes and taking stock of reactions, not working herself up to anything.
“You all know why we’re here,” she said. “This meeting was agreed to by all parties in order to create a framework for every species involved to coexist peacefully. It’s something some of our guests,” she said, glancing at the Alliance section of the table, “might have attempted before laying siege to entire star systems.”
The Alliance slice of the table bristled at this, but said nothing. It was an informative silence, however, giving everyone an idea of just how terrified these people were of the Gaethe threat.
“The Earth Defense Forces have initiated certain contingency plans to ensure the Gaethe choose not to further their expansion on Earth, or to make war on our people.”
It was a piece of information given to me only once this meeting had been arranged; the spread of Sand fabrication units all through Gaethe cities. Give it to the EDF for never relying on one avenue of attack when three were available. Every breach in the walls had filled with Sand, and Jax confirmed that during our trip more than a hundred thousand replicators had been seeded throughout the area.
“More important,” Kitur continued, “is our reluctance to commit genocide, even against invaders.”
It was a nice choice of words. Reluctance to wipe an entire species off our planet, not unwillingness. As statements went it had remarkable utility. It warned the Gaethe and reassured the Alliance at the same time.
“We,” Kitur said, speaking as the elected leader of the UEE and as the chosen representative of Earth, “have held talks with the Gaethe leadership separately. They have agreed to work with us on a gene therapy research project to study ways to mitigate their migration instinct. We have also agreed to technological exchange. Essentially, we will be brought up to their level of technology.”
The representative for the Alliance species called the Edros, who was a shaggy-furred, four-armed biped with enormous bat-like ears, slammed a fist down on the table. I’d read the full dossier, so I knew this wasn’t an act of aggression, but a response rooted in the Edros evolution as tree-dwellers. Slapping trees to create vibrations got the attention of other Edros without attracting notice by using speech.
“What possible reason could these…beings have for doing such a thing?” asked the Edros through his translator unit. “The Gaethe have shunned other races for as long as they have had space travel.”
“Because we’re going to allow them to continue living on Earth,” I said, right on cue.
The uproar was impressive. I stood and slammed my artificial fist onto the table. The sound was like a whip crack, drawing all eyes.
My hand had created a small web or breaks in the top of the draas. In return the table broke the hand. That was okay. I raised the mess of mangled fingers and dislocated palm and concentrated on it for a second.
It reformed, good as new.
The Edros shuddered, fixated on the hand. “Self-replicating nano-mass is banned by the Alliance treaty.”
“We’re not part of your alliance,” Kitur said calmly. “You’ve made that perfectly clear for the last several decades. I’m aware of the dangers some of you have faced from replicating technology, but it’s a tool we use extensively and we plan to continue doing so.”
I don’t exactly suck at politics, I’m just ignorant of them. While I have only a limited ability to understand the complexities on my own, once someone gives me the facts and explains it all becomes just another flight plan for me. Kitur knew the prohibition against tech like the Sand was bone-deep in the Alliance—and apparently most species—which was why it made such a perfect deterrent.
By having me wear my new arm to the meeting, Kitur was sending a message that couldn’t be ignored.
We’ll use it against you if we must.
See, humanity was in what you might call a bit of a tight spot. We had a paper-thin agreement with the species who had conquered our world. We were at a severe technological and population deficit. The Alliance would naturally be terrified we would either lose to the Gaethe down the road or team up with them to get a little revenge.
The only real option we had was fear. Fear that even a single ship—hell, a single missile—could drop a payload the size of an orange that could devour a planet with its insatiable programmed need to copy itself.
The threat was brazen. It had to be. It laid our weakness bare but promised a Pyrrhic victory at best to whoever attacked us. The saving grace was that what we were offering on the other side of the scale was as earnestly positive as the threat was grave.
“We will allow the Gaethe to stay here, but not as colonists,” I said, leaning over the table. “The realities are harsh. Many died during the recent conflict, but there are still nearly a billion Gaethe on Earth. Too many to relocate. They will be our guests, with the understanding that population control will have to be rigorously enforced. We will help them find uninhabited worlds to colonize in the near term, and you’ll let them. They will agree to a boundary zone past which any colonization will not be allowed.”
I raised my new hand to forestall the obvious outbursts. “It’s not a perfect solution, but let’s remember just how enormous space actually is. There are other species to contend with, and it’s almost a guarantee we’ll infringe on their space by doing this. The only thing your Alliance has to do is not interfere, go your own way, and stop blockading Gaethe worlds. You get away with centuries of what we very much consider to be crimes without penalty.”
“You say ‘we’ as if humans will be joining the Gaethe on their new colony worlds,” the Edros said.
I smiled sweetly, though I’m sure the falseness of it was lost on them. “To a certain degree, yes, we will be involved. That’s our business, however. Yours is to stay and talk with Governor Kitur and decide where your best interest lies. How much time and energy have your member species wasted on keeping the Gaethe bottled up?”
I could see the question take root in their minds as they began to see the potential benefits to what was being offered. It wasn’t much, but as beginnings went it was something. Days and weeks would probably turn into months between now and whenever an agreement was reached, if it ever was.
That, fortunately, was not my problem.
***
“Are you ready?” I asked, hands splayed out against my lady. “I can do this gently.”
“Gently can kiss my Greek ass,” Rinna said. “Let’s get crazy with it.”
I goosed the controls and the Valkyrie took to the sky. Luna’s gravity was slight, allowing me to pilot solely by conventional propulsion. No gravity drive here, and no Jax beyond the usual feed of information I needed to, you know, not run into a planet.
“It looks so small from here,” Rinna breathed next to my ear. Her chin rested on my shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around my waist, which wasn’t really necessary in my ship. Kitur had been right; Rinna’s right arm was a mirror to my left. Jax managed the Sand composing mine, and a gift from the UEE for her brave service managed Rinna’s.
“That,” I whispered back to her, “is what she said.”
Rinna laughed hard, giving me a squeeze. “You’re an absolute dork, you realize that? That joke was old before my great-great-grandparents were born.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But people who see planets from space for the first time get a little emotional about it sometimes. I thought a reality check might be in order.”
“Whatever, you just wanted my boobs to press against your back when I laughed,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m wearing a survival suit, Rin.”
She snickered.
“You aren’t wrong, though—about Earth, not the other thing. It does look tiny from here. So alone
, so fragile. Just wait until we get closer, though. That’s something to remember. Happens so gradually that you don’t think about it at all, then suddenly your brain catches up and boom! Huge, gorgeous planet hanging over you taking up half the sky.”
“I can’t wait,” she said. “I became an engineer because I used to dream of coming up here when I was a kid. Joined the EDF for the same reason. I wanted to touch the sky.”
“It was always seeing Earth, for me,” I said. “I wanted to touch down.”
I felt her smile, the corner of her mouth touching the side of my jaw. “Should I say something about dreams coming true? Or would that be too much?”
“Better not,” I said. “I might vomit.”
“Stop with all that sexy talk, you’re going to turn me on.”
We watched the Earth grow before us for a while. I monitored the feed from the newly-installed NIC growing in Rinna’s head, not yet complex or established enough to have its own intelligence. Jax watched for errors or other problems, and passed on the information. Fragile beings, humans, but we could shore that up. We had the technology.
And not just us, but our conditions. The context in which humanity survived and thrived would evolve. The same idea that built the UEE, of relying on the hard work or wringing survival from the leftovers no other race bothered with—that would be our future. Not tethered solely to the gravity wells and easy resources of planets, but in the spaces between where we could be safe.
I wanted very much to watch it happen, and as the arms around my middle tightened, I knew I didn’t want to witness it alone.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two