A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  Ryan stared back. It was the first time that anyone other than a Xilozak or Txtian had ever seen the hybrid race of the Zigot – and lived.

  The Emperor spoke, in a low growling voice, countering the expected high-pitched Txtian chatter. "I am Zigot BigarTah - Emperor of the Xi-Empire, leader of the Xilozak and Txtian peoples."

  His language was a combination of Xilozak and Txtian, full of clicks and growls. The translator delayed slightly, needing time to decipher it.

  Ryan waited patiently. He had understood all of it, but the others may have not. The Zigot’s words were repeated in Trinarieit, carefully pronounced by an attending Showmish translator.

  "You will speak Trinarieit," Ryan replied icily, careful to sound each click and growl precisely.

  The alien nodded.

  Ryan played his next move carefully, a calculated, but required bluff. "I have three ships orbiting your sun. They are not detectable by your tracing scanners. Any breach of agreement or further hostile action will not be tolerated. Any sign of such and we will withdraw and leave your planet and its citizens to a complete and fitful destruction. Do you understand the meaning of these words?"

  The Zigot Emperor nodded, replying back in Trinarieit. "It is understood. We will not respond with aggression."

  "Good. Sit down."

  The Emperor stood rigidly for a moment but then decided against making a scene. It would serve no purpose now.

  "Conditions of your surrender are as follows: All terms under this agreement must be adhered to in full compliance, or the citizens of Xilo will be subjected to retaliatory action by the Galactic Alliance."

  "No Txtian or Xilozak will be permitted to reside on any other planet. Your people are restricted to live out their lives on Xilo. The Galactic Alliance will return what remains of your population to this planet in good faith. In turn, the citizens of Xilo will not be allowed to enslave any other peoples. All slaves will be transferred into Galactic Alliance custody immediately. There are no exclusions. There will be no negotiation."

  The Emperor did not shift its eyes, did not flinch.

  "All interstellar travel by Txtian or Xilozak is hereby prohibited. All remaining vessels will be surrendered to us. All ship manufacturing facilities will be immediately evacuated, their operations ceased, and control rescinded to the Galactic Alliance."

  "All celestial navigational data, star charts, and associated knowledge of planets and civilizations, in all media forms, will be surrendered to the Galactic Alliance immediately.”

  “All slave asset documentation, distribution, and ownership ledgers pertaining to the peoples of the Galactic Alliance will be surrendered to the Galactic Alliance immediately."

  "You are now under the protection of the Galactic Alliance. No other forms of defensive measures will be tolerated. All weapons and defense systems are to be surrendered to the Galactic Alliance. Any and all weapons manufacturing facilities will immediately cease operations and be evacuated, as they will be either dismantled or destroyed at our discretion. All weapons in the possession of your people will be surrendered.”

  “Do you understand these requirements?”

  “Our people will not be safe if they cannot defend themselves,” rebuked the Zigot.

  “Your population will be governed under the laws of the Galactic Alliance and will be granted citizenship pending applicant evaluation. Your population will also be held under the protection of the Galactic Alliance during this application time. Every citizen of Xilo is subject to a War Crimes Tribunal review. Penalties may include incarceration or death, depending on the nature of the crime."

  “So you strip us of all protection, then subject us to your manufactured laws, then issue orders to murder us.”

  “That is not our intention.”

  “Just as it was not your intention to kill billions of our population?”

  “Do not expect compassion from us, Zigot. But we will attempt to treat you with fairness, although I will state - you are not deserving.”

  “Regardless, the remainder of the terms are as follows: All assets that your forces have confiscated from other peoples will be returned to their rightful home. Any property the Galactic Alliance deems of interest will be surrendered."

  Ryan sat back on his chair. "Do you understand everything I have outlined?"

  "Yes, I understand," replied the Emperor.

  "There is an individual I am very interested in. He is a Xilozak called Zorlog, do you know his whereabouts?"

  The Emperor stirred in his seat. "Zorlog is an enemy to the people. He was engaged in battle prior to the destruction. His ship is referred to as the Kirbetz."

  Ryan nodded to the closest guard, who left the room.

  “Are your terms complete?"

  "They are subject to addendum, but for now, they are complete."

  "I assume you represent the leadership of the Galactic Alliance?"

  "I am the leader of the Galactic Alliance Militia only. I represent the Galactic Alliance in matters of war until a true ambassadorial appointment is established by the Galactic Alliance Federation, of which, eventually, Xilo will be absolved into."

  "I formally request ambassadorial status for the citizens of Xilo."

  Ryan replied, "As the current Emperor, I assume you are the undisputed leader of your people?"

  "Yes, although we have experienced... civil problems. This has weakened us and made possible your triumph."

  "As leader, you will have a difficult role. You live in a world that has undergone an ecological disaster. It is doubtful you will be able to feed your citizens or house them for that matter. You are reliant upon a constant stream of incoming supplies. Your industries are suited only for war, and are lacking in areas of rebuilding infrastructure. You have little you can trade, and all trade activities are subject to inspection and possible termination by us.”

  “Xilo and its remaining population are in trouble. However, we may allow a specific service to be retained."

  Ryan made him wait until he asked.

  "What is this resource you refer to?"

  "Your shipbuilding industry may be tolerated, but then again, how much of that work previously relied on slave labor? We are an alliance of worlds surviving through trade, governed by self-imposed rules. The richest of worlds will be the most industrious and diversified. How will your people fit into this system? How do you see Xilo having a future?"

  "Then we are already at a disadvantage, as I foresee your citizens will not voluntarily deal with us. Our only hope will be another war. Only then will we will free ourselves of your treachery. Time is our ally."

  “Treachery?” Ryan could feel the anger build within him. “You are incorrect. Time is not your friend. Given your situation, it is time that will kill off your civilization. You cannot survive on a planet that cannot sustain you. Ironically, you may survive through the generosity of the Galactic Alliance, but we will help you only at our desire. Perhaps your weapons manufacturing capabilities can be modified to provide services more fitting a peaceful existence.”

  “You are offering aid to us? Those who have conquered you, enslaved your people?”

  Ryan passed a gaze down the table, both sides. The eyes of his generals held the truth of their anger, a bottled up rage not easily managed. They shifted in their chairs, none satisfied with the direction of the discussion, nor Ryan’s presentation of terms.

  He eased back in his chair.

  This was to be expected.

  “Emperor, I was not completely accurate in my previous statements. I will correct this by stating that in a way, it is true that time is your ally in one respect. Time will serve to heal the memory of the past, and allow the ones you once subjugated to find peace. Understanding will eventually supersede hate. It is a simple truth that your people must learn to live with us in peace, or they will all die in war."

  The Zigot leader tilted back on his chair. His massive insectoid head turned slowly. Large, unblinking, prism eyes scanned over
each of the panel. His mandibles ground against one another, emanating a low grating sound too similar to the crunch of bone. Ryan was relieved when it stopped.

  He announced his decision. "Then we will live in peace. Despite my predecessors' examples, I believe it is the way that we should live, in order to truly prosper, we must focus our energies on strengthening our knowledge, skills, technologies. But in order for us to flourish, we must be allowed to compete in this economy of worlds."

  “These are the fundamental rights of Alliance planets. Xilo will only be provided that right upon its acceptance into the Alliance, and not before.”

  The great Emperor bowed his head. “Then we will truly perish.”

  Ryan did not respond, and neither did anyone else. The words hung in the air for an extended moment.

  “Very well, then I would suggest you notarize the agreement as this is a pre-requisite for joining the Alliance,” Ryan announced.

  A few of his generals stood up, shaking in rage, but holding their tongues. Some responded by leaving the room.

  Ryan waited for the room to settle, knowing this was difficult for all of them.

  The Emperor did not miss the subtleties at work, and was wise enough to recognize an uncontestable opportunity. He proceeded with the signing of the necessary documents, complying without a word. Once finished, he focused his attention back to Ryan.

  "Are you from Signus or Earth?" asked the Emperor.

  "Earth."

  "Yes, the Grentels were very similar to you.”

  “Grentels?”

  The Emperor scanned the group once more. “You have no knowledge of these people?”

  “No. Perhaps you can share some of your history for our benefit?”

  The Emperor shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

  “Are you so afraid of us you cannot pass on events that occurred so long ago?” goaded Ryan.

  "Fear? An Emperor does not fear. This is mere knowledge handed down through the generations. It is no longer relevant.”

  “Consider us curious, then.”

  “Very well,” he sighed, as if readying himself to share to his subordinates. “It was in the days of my Txtian ancestors when the Grentels came. They offered us peace, but we knew only war, and so we killed them. We studied the technology that we seized from them for many zadii. On Txtia it was a time of great turbulence. The planet was beginning its great shift as those have learning had predicted. Through uncovering the Grentels’ secrets, the Txtians managed to survive. They used this knowledge to leave the planet and journey to Xilo. It was a difficult time for many Txtians, to leave all they knew. Txtia was near its end, and time was the enemy. Only once the great migration was complete were Txtians able to afford the time to continue to study the sciences employed. It took generations for our people to truly comprehend the mysteries of interstellar travel."

  "So you admit these Grentels enabled you to travel the galaxy before you were ready.”

  The Emperor only glared back.

  “These Grentels, are you saying this is the name they called themselves?"

  "No, I am unaware, nor do I care of how they referred to themselves. Information is limited. They are from the second planet of 10, from a far star. That is all I have.”

  The Zigot shook, a shrill shriek razed from its body, followed by a turbulent growl.

  A startled guard raised his blaster and leveled it on the Zigot.

  Ryan signaled the guard to lower his weapon. “Laughter brothers, the Zigot laughs.”

  “And what is so humorous, Zigot?”

  “Somehow, my brother knew. His last words were recorded. As he lay dying in a poisoned body, he warned us that the Grentels were coming. And I thought it was hallucinations from his poisoned delusional mind.”

  Again he laughed. The shrill sound pierced Ryan's ears.

  "It is an old children's story. The Grentels would come back one day in reprisal, and in their anger, they would destroy half our people with fire from the sky. It is only on that day that we will begin to understand peace."

  "I guess your story came true."

  "It is true only if you are a Grentel. But you are from Earth, and this story is a mere myth."

  The former Emperor rose, towering over all of them. Without another word, the menacing monster turned and started out of the room, pausing only to stoop through the entrance. He glanced back. "I wish you peace, leader from Earth. I have grown tired of death."

  "So have I," Ryan said under his breath.

  * * *

  The panel of generals and captains looked at one another in silence. They had just witnessed the end of the Xi-Empire regime.

  Ryan leaned over to his ensign. “Fetch the generals that had left. There is a discussion at hand.”

  Anger was seething under the surface, it was clear, but Ryan would not initiate the talk until all his generals were present. Within minutes the group was again whole.

  “Some of you did not like my terms,” stated Ryan.

  “They deserve to die. All of them,” stated Lortay, his anger kept on the edge.

  “Well, General Lortay, tell me, is that what our Galactic Alliance ideals are based upon? Is the first order of business of our Alliance the act of genocide and the total obliteration of another race?”

  Silence reigned for a moment.

  “No,” the Showmish conceded. “But none here were afforded such an option.”

  “True. It is also true we cannot have it both ways. Either kill them or help them to survive. It is our choice. If all of you agree unanimously with Lortay’s position, then I will agree to bomb Xilo from orbit – and we will exercise total destruction. Only we know of this agreement before us. We can easily break its terms. But I will remind you, the war is over, and they have been defeated. This is now a matter of how the Alliance deals with its prisoners of war. So, all you have to do is give me a show of hands.”

  “Their prisoners were enslaved and eventually killed,” countered Wharsoff.

  Ryan ignored the outburst, intent upon making a point. “Choose your legacy, Generals. Raise your hand if you wish to kill them all, or choose to stand by this agreement!” He waved the document in the air.

  Two hands went up, then a third, and a fourth.

  Ryan walked around to seat himself in the Emperor’s chair.

  “Perhaps only a majority is required then? Nine of us sit here. It will take only five votes to reign down death upon the last few billions. Of course, we’ll need to continue to bloody our hands as we find remnants of their forces in other systems – and we will. Again, history will define us the conquerors and we certainly have that right. You can tell your stories to your children how you killed off a whole civilization, and you considered it moral and acceptable to erase all evidence of them, adults to children.”

  So what have you? Give me another vote.”

  One, two, three raised their hands, another put up and tentatively retracted.

  “Then we do not have enough votes to eradicate the remnants of the enemy. Perhaps the function of the military has been superseded by the reality of policing Galactic Alliance citizens. Let us accept it is what it is.”

  “But now we have more important work to do. Pull together a number of squadrons. We need to get to the surface and start liberating our people. All of you can take care of the details. I'm returning to the Freedom. I intend to bring her into Xilo orbit. McClary, make sure you secure the whole area before I return – that includes inspecting those moons. Wharsoff, you're in charge of slave retrieval, be careful down there, and control your troops - no non-sanctioned killing. Lortay, you’re on disaster assessment and relief. This destruction was more than I ever intended to inflict. We need to figure out how to get Xilo functioning enough to sustain its population.”

  Ryan tossed the agreement on the table in front of them.

  Wharsoff stood up and bowed. "Thank you, Earthman. I never thought that I would see this day."

 
Ryan gave him a smile. “Do me a favor and stop crediting me for this. This required everyone’s help.”

  Within minutes he was in the Dancing Queen and on his way back to the Freedom, and to his Aviore.

  * * *

  18. Inception

  A s the Dancing Queen came within tracing range of its destination, Ryan noticed something was wrong. There was nothing out there but the desolate vacuum of space.

  "Gem, you're sure of these coordinates? You haven't made an error somehow?"

  He had visions of being lost without any navigational references, unable to calculate his bearings, drifting until he died.

  Gem picked up on his thoughts. Ryan swore he heard her laughing.

  “It’s not funny. I rely on you, and all this other technology. If you fail, I’m dead.”

  “That is true, but I also rely upon you for interaction. We have a symbiont relationship.”

  “Regardless, I think you could fare quite well without me, out here.”

  Gem did not respond back, realizing the conversation was pointless. "We are at the correct coordinates. This was the exact position where we departed from the Freedom. I have located some persistent energy signatures."

  "Why did she move? Can you hail her? Start long-range tracing scans, 360 degrees, 1 degree increments all planes. Shit!"

  "Initiating full sweep, will take approximately three hours, twenty-five minutes."

  Where the hell are they? They would’ve had to jump to acroluc for an extended time to pass beyond the standard tracing range. Maybe they had an emergency? The best rule was to sit tight. They should return, or at least send a drone back.

  Ryan made himself breakfast. He was jittery and the meal did not make him feel any better. His arm was stiff and sore. After eating he decided to meditate. He settled down into a self-induced trance but was unable to concentrate completely. He ached with the desire to know where Aviore was and it plagued his mind. Time and again he attempted to achieve total concentration.