by M. D. Cooper
Three days, the humans had been with them. Three days, and no one could talk about anything else. They were a noisy bunch, frequently modulating their words when they were together to create wails and moans that filled the ship with soulful sound. Sometimes, Strax through they sounded like dying squalupins, just like the ones he has just impaled with his right claw, while at others, they were more like a crashing pile of rocks. He found the sounds altogether unpleasant, though some of the other races on the ship had taken quite a shine to what the humans called song.
The crew was enamored with them, though Strax could not for the life of him comprehend why. They were loud and clumsy, like the animals in the wild back on his home planet of Hydraxia. Why anyone in their right mind wanted to put wild animals on the Ascendant, and consider them for a seat in the Order, was entirely beyond him.
But he had much bigger problems. Much, much bigger. The Ascendant carried over 2,000 soldiers and engineers, and despite the humans on board, the missions still had to go on. The last squalupin stabbed and scoffed down, it was time to speak of more important matters.
“We have a diplomatic meeting on the books for tomorrow, do we not?” he asked, leaning back in his chair as the waiters placed the tabletop back over the feeding trough.
“We do,” Myla conjured the computer interface into existence, letting it hover before her face. It was pleasantly symmetrical, and Strax wondered why he had never proposed copulation to her.
But he was getting distracted. Maybe it was managing the humans, the exhaustion of practically babysitting them, but today he truly felt old. He hadn’t considered retirement, but maybe it was time to start thinking about it. Get out of the army while still ahead, bring glory to the Order by birthing a healthy brood. Myla was practically his age, though she looked much younger. It would certainly be a pairing his elders would approve of.
“Commander?” she said – no, repeated. He had gotten lost in his thoughts, another sign of his oncoming age. He clicked his mandibles pleasantly.
“Yes, continue,” he said, trying to catch her eye, but she was too focused on the holograms that drifted in the air before her to notice him.
“We have a meeting with the emperor of Sybillia tomorrow, set for 1400,” she recited. “A formality. Contact was established over a century ago – by the Sybillians – but they have never made a request to join the Order. Admiral Ma’kurajaa has requested this time slot for you, with him.”
“A simple meet and greet, then,” Strax agreed. Not an exciting mission with life or death consequences, just a simple hello and goodbye, the once-a-decade check in to make sure these outsiders weren’t up to no good.
“Admiral Ma’kurajaa has requested you bring the human.”
“Shit.”
The entire table turned to stare at him, and Strax realized he had said that aloud. Ouch. What an embarrassment. The humans were having a terrible effect on his usually calm state of mind.
“Apologies, officers,” he said, letting out a cleansing breath. “I simply do not think bringing the human-lieutenant along is a good idea. What is supposed to be a simple meet-and-greet will turn into a disaster.”
There was a sound from across the table, like that of a deflating balloon. Strax wasn’t surprised to see such obvious disdain from the head of sciences.
“Have something to add, Master Statstic?”
“Your disregard for the humans under our employ comes off as an insult to Admiral Ma’kurajaa himself, commander,” said the engineer. Strax’s mandibles bristled. Statstic had been a pain in his claw since day one, and got away with it, too, seeing as how he was a contractor, and not an actual subordinate.
“I mean no disrespect to the Admiral,” he replied, “but it is unwise for us to bring an untrained, and dare I say untested species to greet our neighbors?”
“The humans on this ship might seem strange,” said Statstic, “but they are trying their hardest.”
“You make it sound as if they are children.”
“They might as well be. Their race has just discovered the stars, and they are making every effort to please the Order. What makes you think they will disrespect it now?”
Strax was steaming under his shell. He wanted to bring his pincers to the engineers’ neck, and snap it clean off.
“If Admiral Ma’kurajaa had ordered it, then it is how we shall proceed,” Strax conceded, “but if this goes poorly, the blame shall not be on me.”
“Noted,” Myla interjected, sending him a look which said – what did it say? Strax was confused. Females had different facial antennae, and he never knew how to read them properly. Which eye of hers was a phantom eye evaded him, since every female had it in a different place. He blew air in her direction: that at least was a clear expression of thanks.
“We shan’t need a full away team,” he said, “simply the human and I should suffice. We need the gift basket for the Sybillian emperor will be in order as well. The entire process should take less than an hour. If we are gone for over five, send an intercept team, and retreat to a safe distance.”
Easy. Just a hello, a few questions, and then off again.
It was being trapped, alone, in a shuttle with the Human-Steve that made him uncomfortable.
The thought of retiring popped back into his head, and he let it linger. After this mission, he’d have a good talk with Admiral Ma’kurajaa. He simply did not have the patience for babysitting anymore.
Chapter 3
The Human seemed excited to be in the shuttle, despite the fact it was probably older than he was.
“May I pilot?” it asked, excitedly. Why anyone would want extra work was beyond Strax: flying was tedious, and not to be taken lightly.
“No.”
The human’s mouth pulled into a hill shape, but it said nothing. Not a complaint or a word of anger. Strax was impressed and confused, all at once.
Strax initiated the takeoff sequence, leaned back, and they lifted off the dock with grace. The human looked out the window like he was discovering flight for the very first time.
“Is this your first time in a shuttle?” Strax asked, realizing how odd it was that he was asking the human an unprompted question. Why was he suddenly making conversation? In that same wavelength, what a poor question was that? Of course the human had been in a shuttle before: it’s how it boarded the Ascendant in the first place.
But the human did not shame him. Quite the opposite: it turned towards him, with the eagerness of a newborn child, eager to see the world.
“No,” he said, showing its white fangs again. “I was a pilot in the Air Force back on Earth. But flying is so incredible, isn’t it? Every flight is an entirely new experience.”
Strax silenced himself – he would not laugh. The human had this innocent trait to him, something so similar to a child. An eagerness. So obnoxious. The lieutenant had to take this seriously. He knew already how his report to Admiral Ma’kurajaa would go.
The Humans are not ready for the serious nature of the Order, he wrote mentally, as he urged the little shuttle out of the hangar bay and into the vastness of space. They need a few centuries to grow up, mature, and return with more focus.
He was dreading presenting this man-thing to the emperor of the planet below. While Human-Steve leaned forward and stared at the glowing orb before them, Strax calculated trajectories, and quietly planned a way to speed up the human’s demise.
Such fragile creatures, humans, all flesh and meat. Just about anything would kill them. It would be so easy to open the airlock and let him writhe in the vacuum of space. Of course, it would be an accident. He would mourn the loss along with the rest of the crew, and then, move on. Never having to add humans to the Order, never having to listen to their awful group-moaning again.
As a matter of fact, the human was doing so now. It was vibrating its mouth-flaps to different pitches as they neared the planet, quietly, maybe to avoid Strax hearing him do so.
Hum.
Hum.
>
Hum!
Hum Hum!
All the while, the corners of those pink mouth flaps turned upwards.
Neither creature said anything for the remainder of the trip.
Strax landed in front of the Sybillian palace, setting the shuttle down in a field of yellow grass, near some trees. They swayed in the breeze, and Strax grimaced at the thought of stepping out into a place where the air current was not controlled.
He snapped his suit shut all the way around his neck. This should at least block the worst of it.
The human, however, wasn’t wearing a suit at all. It wore the order’s uniform, but hadn’t brought a breathing mask, face filter, air containment system, or even a pressure suit.
“You have come willfully unprepared, Lieutenant.” Strax thought of all the ways the human could die now. Maybe he wouldn’t have to intervene at all: just let nature take its course.
“No sir, the climate here is fine for me,” Human-Steve bared its fangs, “as is the air. I am told it resembles my home world’s country of Texas.”
Ah, humans and their global divisions. Strax had almost forgotten the lines that separated them on their home planet – not that he cared. He did hide his disappointment at not having such an easy way to dispose of the creature.
“I read in your file you were from a country called United States,” Strax pointed out. Why he remembered this odd factoid, he did not know. Perhaps it was the irony of naming a place “united” when it was so impossibly divided.
“From the state of Virginia, actually,” the human seemed surprised; too, that Strax had retrained that fact. The mouth flaps were fluttering now as it spoke. “But I’m a farm boy, I can handle the heat.”
“I thought you said you were with the Air Force?”
“I was born and raised on a farm, enlisted when I left high school,” he explained, “don’t worry, not all humans have this awful accent!”
Was the human trying to be humorous? What was it trying to do? Was it trying to earn his pity? Strax had to stop thinking about this odd creature, or he would never leave the ship and accomplish his mission. He clicked his mandibles to demand attention.
“Right, lieutenant. As you do not have a translator, I do not expect you to talk during this encounter. You shall stand behind me, representing the welcoming nature of the Order. You shall defend me if it comes to that. And stay here as collateral if this emperor requires negotiation of any kind.”
“All part of a day’s work,” the human bobbed its head up and down. “Sir, yes sir. And do not worry about the translator: I have learned to speak Sybillian from the ship’s computer. All three dialects on file.”
“You have?” Strax could not contain his surprise, “but the mission was only announced yesterday.”
“Learning languages is a bit of a hobby of mine,” the human said, pumping its chest out. Was that vanity? The human pride he had heard so much about?
“A hobby?”
“A pass-time.”
Why would anyone need to pass time, when there was so little of it to be had in a lifetime? Strax had no need for distraction in his life, his work took every waking moment of it. These humans had an odd way of living, one without focus. It must have been an existential hell.
“In any case, do not speak a word while we are in the palace,” Strax ordered, “is that clear?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“Good. Now we come in peace, so leave all weapons at the door of the shuttle.”
“Understood.”
The human unholstered his laser pistol, placing it under his jump seat. Strax was glad to see the human was good at obeying orders.
But now was the true test of the human’s metal – and Strax’s as well. If all went well, this would be Strax’s last diplomatic mission.
Though if things went poorly it would be his last, as well, though for majorly different reasons. Namely, that he wouldn’t be alive anymore.
He tried not to think about that possibility, as it was no possibility at all. This would be easy. He’d be home before dinnertime.
The palace before them was grand, made of massive blocks of stone, so large in fact it appeared the entire place has been carved out of a single mountain. This was perhaps the case, as there were veins of emerald and ruby running through the front wall.
The human let out a long, high-pitched sound. Strax glared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Whistling,” the human lifted its shoulders, than dropped them again. “I’m impressed. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”
Strax didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. He was impressed too. This whole “walking up to the stranger’s gates unarmed” was a tried and true tradition of the Order, showing the local ruler that they were peaceful and meant no harm. The massive ship in the sky was kept neatly out of view.
“What does the Order want with the Sybillians?” the human asked, taking Strax by surprise.
“That is none of your concern, lieutenant.”
“It is my concern, commander,” the human insisted, “Admiral Ma’kurajaa was adamant that this exercise was not only to see if I was a good fit for the Order, but for the Order to prove its value to planet Earth. I need to know what we’re getting into.”
Strax took a deep breath to cleanse his soul. The human sure was a mouthy one.
“I don’t see any ships, or high technology here,” it continued, “and there was no talk of mining installations. Sybillia doesn’t have much to offer the Order.”
“That is a correct assessment,” Strax agreed, “it is the placement that matters most to us. Sybillia is the only planet around this star with sentient life, and thus by Order law they control the system. We need to gain that control if we want to stand a chance against the Travan Empire. Sybillia is a key strategic figure at play: it’s the only thing in between the Travan and the Order.”
“That’s one thing I never understood about space alliances and federations,” the human continued, “why not just go over, below, or simply around the Sybillian star?”
Ah, humans, and their primitive technology. They truly knew nothing about interstellar affairs.
“It is simple, really, lieutenant,” he explained, “if the Travan empire were to take control of this star system, it would be able to place a resonance ring in orbit around its star, and thus create a hyperdrive path straight to the Order’s front door.”
“Ah, and if the Sybillians were to enter the Order, we would be the ones to control the highway right into Travan territory.”
“Precisely.”
“And with Travan activity being spotted in the Dorian system, we need to act fast in order to secure this area for ourselves.”
Strax was taken aback by the human’s thinking. “Yes, that is also correct.”
“Then let’s make this count.”
As the duo approached, a sentry let out a loud call, and slowly, a crack began to form in the wall. The crack opened, revealing a door larger than the hangar bay on the Ascendant.
If Strax could make that sound the human had made, he would have. It was damn impressive. But alas, his mouth wasn’t so creepily dexterous.
As the massive door lowered, a procession began to appear. Men with spears and shields poured from the gates, leading a chariot drawn by eight beasts, each one bigger than the shuttle they had just left. The human balked, glancing first at his commanding officer then back at the beasts.
“Fucking dragons,” the creature intoned. Neither of the words meant anything to Strax, who put them down as exclamations at the grandeur of the procession.
The chariot that the scaled beasts were pulling carried only one thing: a man in a throne. Eight creatures were definitely not necessary, and Strax knew they were only a show of strength. He did not care. His ship in orbit could destroy the entire procession, and palace too, with a single shot if need be. They were no threat to him.
As they drew closer, the armored men spread out, building a large circle
around the little envoy. All the noise and weapons were making Strax nervous, but he held his ground. His finger tightened over the communicator ring that would call for reinforcements if things went sour.
Finally the chariot arrived, and the beasts ran a complete circle around Strax and the Human before coming to a stop. The man – if indeed it was a man, it was always hard to tell with other races – who sat on the throne made a sweeping motion and stood, gazing down upon them like he was about to pass judgment.
Strax hated being in such a lowly position, but he said nothing. It was all part of the job description. Once again, something tugged on him inside, telling him this was yet another good reason to end this nonsense and focus efforts instead on breeding the next generation of commanders and generals.
The emperor he’d been assigned to meet was a stout creature, but whatever height he had given up for width he had reclaimed with the oversized chariot. Like the winged creatures that drove him, he was scaly and green; akin to the reptilians Strax was fond of working with.
“Greetings!” he said, waving a thick green arm to the heavens. “I see you found the place alright.”
“Greetings, mighty emperor of the Sybillians!” Strax bowed a polite bow, as was customary. “It is an honor to finally meet you, and to represent the Order here today.”
“So, I see they sent you to try and add our humble planet to the Order’s impressive collection,” the emperor made a grimace. “I have always said no in the past, but you know I love hearing your offers. I love seeing you grovel. Now come on, then, the banquet is going to get cold!”
“Banquet?” now it was Strax’s turn to balk. He hated having to eat on other planets, the food always messed with his digestive system. No one seemed to appreciate good, fresh, still squirming food.
“Yes, yes, in your honor!” the emperor did a show of bowing, “the great commander Strax, it is truly a pleasure to have you.”