by C H Gideon
“Jemmin targets neutralized, Colonel,” Styles reported ominously as the entire command center came to terms with what just happened. Over two hundred of the bug vehicles had just popped out of concealment and erased the entire Jemmin presence on Shiva’s Wrath.
Which meant that they probably could have done the same thing to the Terrans.
“Verify all Jemmin targets are down,” Jenkins ordered as the bugs returned to their icy tunnels, where they remained visible for several minutes before their thermal signatures were occluded by the ice. “And, Styles, I need you to personally take an APC out there to collect the captain and her package.”
“APC en route,” Styles acknowledged, standing from his station and making for Roy’s cabin door.
Jenkins raised the Generally on a secure line and forwarded a classified order signed by General Akinouye. “Lieutenant Winters, this is Colonel Jenkins. Hold your position and verify receipt of new orders.”
The orders were clear: Winters’ people had just observed a classified encounter and were now under explicit orders not to discuss it, or even to surrender their mechs’ data storage system contents to anyone but Colonel Jenkins.
A lengthy pause ensued while Winters presumably read the order, and eventually the young officer acknowledged, “Copy that, Colonel. Orders received and executed.”
“Good work, 7th Platoon,” Jenkins replied. “Roy out.”
“Colonel Jenkins,” greeted Captain Xi Bao after disembarking the APC. The vehicle had been dispatched to retrieve her less than two hours earlier and had just arrived back at HQ bearing its all-important guest. Driven by Chief Styles, the APC was empty of other crew, which made this meeting as secretive as it could possibly be given the circumstances. Xi looked around with concern. “Where’s General Akinouye?”
Jenkins shook his head. “This needs to remain compartmentalized for the moment. Are you all right?” he asked, gesturing to the angry, blistered burns running from beneath her rebreather’s jaw-line down her neck. The burns seemed to extend well beneath her new enviro-suit, which covered her pilot’s jumpsuit and nearly all of her body to protect it from the extreme cold.
“I’m fine, sir,” she said dismissively. “It took me a while to master the secret handshake, but I got it.” She gestured deferentially toward the APC’s interior. “This way, Colonel.”
Jenkins walked up the boarding ramp and entered the vehicle where his eyes soon fell upon a truly bizarre-looking creature.
It had four multi-jointed, blade-shaped legs situated beneath its more than meter-long body. Situated over the front legs and protruding from a half-meter tall “torso” was a pair of delicate-looking arms ending in four-clawed pincers. The thing had no discernable head, or any other recognizable organs for that matter, but Xi’s initial classification ”insectaur” did a good enough job describing its shape.
Gripped in one of those clawed “hands” was a triangular bit of metal that glowed with a soft, blue light. That light pulsed as it emitted English words. “We Zeen. You Terran leader.”
Jenkins nodded. “I am a Terran leader.”
“Clarify singular,” the Zeen said in its strange, inflectionless tone. Jenkins had heard dozens of auto-translation devices, and none of them projected the strange, hollow, seemingly emotionless tone that this one did.
He cocked his head in confusion, looking at Xi for an assist. She gestured toward the Zeen insectaur. “It’s asking why you said you are ‘a’ Terran leader, Colonel.”
He nodded, recalling her brief message that had summoned the APC. “Hierarchical structures…right. I’m the commander of the Terran ground forces deployed on this world,” he explained.
“You apex leader here?” the Zeen pressed.
“No…” Jenkins replied firmly. “But I am the highest-ranking officer you can communicate with.”
“You not apex leader. Preserve hierarchy fundamental hierarchical feature. Limit sensitive component exposure. Terran hierarchical structures symmetrical,” the Zeen intoned.
Jenkins was confused, but thankfully, Xi stepped in. “The Zeen is saying it understands the ‘apex’ leader isn’t here because of security concerns. When it says something is ‘symmetrical,’ it means that it understands and approves of its function or the logic behind it.”
Jenkins nodded, impressed by how quickly Xi had picked up the thing’s fragmented speech patterns. “Why are the Zeen here?” he asked, diving straight at the heart of the matter.
“Vorr help Zeen,” the Zeen replied. “Zeen help Vorr. Vorr brave. Vorr food. Brave food not symmetrical.”
Xi giggled, drawing an alarmed look from Jenkins before she explained her outburst. “Apparently, the Vorr don’t make much sense to the Zeen, who think they act too much like prey. But the Zeen still seem to like them well enough. That’s the fifth time it’s described the Vorr like that. I’m sorry, Colonel.” She schooled her features into something approaching a professional expression. “It just sounds funnier every time I hear it.”
“Zeen not food,” the Zeen continued. “Terran not food. Vorr help Terran. Vorr help Zeen. Zeen help Vorr. Zeen help Terran. Terran help Vorr. Terran help Zeen. Mutual help symmetrical.”
“We would like that…” Jenkins nodded warily. “But I need you to understand that this is a preliminary meeting.”
“Define ‘preliminary,’” the Zeen requested.
“We can’t complete any agreement here,” Jenkins explained. “We need to take what we learn here back to the Terran government.”
“Hierarchical structures symmetrical,” the Zeen said in what sounded like vaguely reassuring tone. “Zeen help Terran. Zeen not help Terran government. Terran government not symmetrical.”
“What do you mean?” Jenkins felt his neck-hairs rise in alarm. “Why do you say ‘Terran government not symmetrical’?”
“Terran government subordinate,” Zeen replied simply. “Vorr help Zeen. Vorr help Terran. Zeen help Terran. Vorr not help Terran government. Zeen not help Terran government. Terran government not symmetrical.”
Of all the possible ways this meeting could have gone, this was not among those which Jenkins had prepared for. “I’m not sure I understand,” he eventually said.
“Terran government subordinate,” the Zeen serenely repeated.
“Subordinate to who?” Xi demanded.
“Terran government subordinate to Sol,” replied the insect-like creature. “Sol subordinate to Jemmin. Jemmin not brave. Jemmin not food. Jemmin not symmetrical. Zeen not food. Zeen brave. Jemmin eat Zeen. Zeen not help Jemmin. Zeen not help Jemmin subordinates.”
Jenkins nodded as he sorted through what the Zeen representative had just said. “I need to confer with my subordinate.” He gestured to Xi.
“Hierarchical structures symmetrical,” it approved.
“Captain…” Jenkins gestured for her to come over for a brief conference. “What else have you learned from the Zeen?”
“One thing that came through loud and clear on the trip here is that they really don’t like the Jemmin,” she explained. “And it seems like the only reason they’re on Shiva’s Wrath is that the Vorr needed their help with something here. The Vorr asked them to meet with us and see if we could come to some kind of understanding, and it sounds like it took some convincing before the Zeen agreed. I think the main sticking point is that the Zeen insisted on meeting us on their terms rather than in some kind of formalized summit orchestrated by the Vorr,” she explained, her words quickening as she made her report. “Just like we thought, those terms include a combat ritual which the Vorr disapproved of but ultimately decided not to interfere with. The Zeen liked what they saw in how we conduct ourselves under fire, and in how we fought against the Jemmin, so they’ve decided we’re ‘not food.’ As far as I can tell, that’s as much respect and regard as we can hope to get from this species.”
“Do you know why they don’t like the Jemmin?”
She shook her head irritably. “I haven’t been abl
e to get any further than ‘Jemmin eat Zeen’ and ‘Jemmin not brave’ on that front, Colonel. It seems like the Zeen is being more guarded on the subject of the Jemmin than on just about any other.”
He nodded contemplatively before turning back to the Zeen. “Why do you think Sol is subordinate to the Jemmin?”
“Technology symmetrical.”
Jenkins quirked an eyebrow in surprise, seeing a look of confusion on Xi’s face that matched his own. “Clarify,” he urged.
“Sol technology and Jemmin technology symmetrical,” the Zeen explained. “Symmetry indicates union. Sol unified with Jemmin. Terran technology and Sol technology asymmetrical. Asymmetry indicates disunion. Terran not unified with Sol. Terran not unified with Jemmin. Terran eat Jemmin. Zeen help Terran.”
“But you think Terran government unified with Sol?” Jenkins pressed, realizing only after he had spoken that he was aping the Zeen’s speech pattern.
“Sol and Terran government partially symmetrical,” the Zeen agreed. “Vorr and Zeen analysis symmetrical.”
“The Vorr and Zeen both think that the Terran government is secretly in league with Sol?” Xi clarified.
“Symmetrical.”
Jenkins had no idea what he could do with this information. It was possible the Zeen were overreacting to similarities between certain factions within the Terran government and humanity’s parent system of Sol.
But the Vorr were the second-most powerful species in the known galaxy, and if they concurred with the Zeen appraisal of the situation, that gave him serious pause when it came to dismissing their theory.
“Zeen help Terran,” the Zeen said into the growing silence. “Terran help Zeen.”
“Yes,” Jenkins affirmed. “We would like to help each other.”
“Symmetry,” the alien made a peculiar, mirrored gesture with its arm-like appendages.
“Symmetry,” Jenkins agreed, closing the hatch and sitting down on one of the benches normally used to seat troopers in transit. “Captain?” He gestured for Xi to sit opposite him. “Let’s continue this dialogue with our new friend.”
Colonel Jenkins sat in Bahamut Zero’s conference room while General Akinouye reviewed his report on the Zeen meeting. Jenkins had excluded nothing from that report, though it had been tempting to do so with some of the more sensitive bits of information.
Fifteen minutes of total silence passed before the general finally looked up. “I don’t know how actionable any of this is, Colonel. But it seems unlikely the Vorr would bring us here to present a convoluted smokescreen.”
“I agree, General.” Jenkins nodded. “And given the complexity of establishing a dialogue with them, it seems even more unlikely that the Zeen would willingly participate in such a scheme.”
“On that note, the Zeen seem to have taken a liking to Captain Xi,” Akinouye mused.
“They have indeed, sir. They made clear toward the meeting’s end that they consider her their lone point of contact with Terran humanity,” Jenkins explained as a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They tried telling her that she needed to pull back from active duty to protect herself and facilitate future Terran-Zeen interactions.”
Akinouye returned Jenkins’ grin. “Didn’t go over too well, did it?”
“No, sir,” Jenkins agreed with a chuckle, “but I think the way she rejected that particular overture only served to endear her to them even more. In any event, they’ve made it abundantly clear that they don’t want their meeting with us to be made public. Not yet, anyway.”
The general sighed irritably. “They’re rather vague as to why they distrust our government.”
“I tried to dig for specifics, but I don’t think this particular Zeen has access to them,” Jenkins explained.
“If this is a designated Zeen representative, it seems impractical to keep such information from it,” Akinouye said pointedly.
“I don’t think the Zeen work that way, sir,” Jenkins said hesitantly. “From what Styles and Xi have worked out, the Zeen don’t have a standard hierarchical society like ours. And they don’t have a totally distributed social system like the Arh’Kel, whose lack of formal leadership is one of the only reasons we’ve managed to stay ahead in our ongoing conflict with the rock-biters.” He shook his head in mild frustration as he tried to relay his experts’ best theory. “It seems like the Zeen operate in some kind of interdependent caste system.”
“Castes are innately hierarchical,” Akinouye said flatly.
“Human castes are, yes, sir. But my people think this variant isn’t,” Jenkins explained. “The Zeen appear to have mastered bio-tech so completely that they’ve integrated multiple organisms into interdependent configurations which, for all intents and purposes, look like a single ‘Zeen.’ For example, each of the vehicles we previously engaged houses no fewer than eight distinct life forms, each of which has been specifically cultivated to serve a relatively narrow purpose. The ‘main vehicle’ is primarily an armored transport equipped with a mid-grade plasma cannon, and is controlled by a grub-like facilitator lifeform responsible for coordinating communication between the various Zeen caste members assigned to that vehicle. Inside the vehicle are two smaller vehicle-grade creatures, each of which bears a centaur-like exo-suit, which in turn houses a grub-like facilitator that controls both the vehicle and the exo-suit-like organism it rides. As far as we can tell, Zeen work together in relative harmony to produce a kind of gestalt organism. And while the communicator bugs are the most sensitive and critical to the performance of complex tasks, each organism in a given Zeen configuration is fully self-aware and actively participates in group actions and decision-making. Each organism is an individual, but linkable to adjacent Zeen, with the facilitator ‘grubs’ doing the heavy lifting of keeping everything moving smoothly.”
“It still sounds like the brain bugs are running Zeen society,” the general grunted.
“The Zeen might be misrepresenting the facts, or we might have asked the wrong questions,” Jenkins allowed, “but we’ve already seen just how differently the various League species are from one another. The Zeen don’t seem to deviate any further from the League norm than any other known non-human species.”
“Probably not,” General Akinouye grudgingly agreed.
“In fact,” Jenkins continued, “I think the concept of hierarchies disturbs the Zeen because they see the opportunity for catastrophic systems failures in hierarchical structures. When a relatively small group at the top of a hierarchy works against the good of the whole system, it’s difficult to counter their efforts.”
“I do recall my basic sociology, Colonel,” Akinouye rebuked his subordinate.
“Of course, General.” Jenkins nodded. “But the Zeen don’t have ready access to our same perspective. Think about this from their point of view. If they’re telling us the truth about how their society is organized, how could they view a hierarchical society as desirable? Or, even more importantly, how could they see it as trustworthy? When the potential failure points of a system are so blindingly obvious, it’s difficult to justify investing in that system,” he explained, seeing a look of comprehension dawn on the general’s aged features. “I think the Zeen mistrust our government because they’ve seen its failures, and those failure points are related to the way we structure our society. They dislike the Jemmin and are convinced that Sol is currently moving in lock-step with the Jemmin. It seems to me, while considering their perspective, that they’re taking an enormous risk by introducing themselves to us even though we are fundamentally identical to Solar humans.”
“What are you saying, Colonel?”
“I’m saying,” Jenkins replied with conviction, “that the Zeen see contacting us as a serious risk, but one worth taking. Why?” he asked earnestly. “The most basic rules of self-preservation dictate that, when given two options, you generally pick the less dangerous one.”
Akinouye’s eyes narrowed. “You think the Jemmin are plotting some kind of major offen
sive?”
“I think it’s possible,” Jenkins agreed, “but it’s almost certain that they’ve already got something underway that both the Vorr and Zeen are opposed to. And for whatever reason, the Vorr think the Terran Republic can help them. But more importantly from our perspective, they think that they can help us.”
The general leaned onto the arm of his chair. “I’m not a fan of all this cloak and dagger, Colonel…but it’s what we came here to do, and our primary objective is now complete. We made contact with an unknown alien species and negotiated an introduction while protecting Terran interests. But,” he said pointedly, “we can’t leave this rock until we know exactly what the Vorr, Jemmin, and Zeen were so interested in. I need you to realize just how bad the shitstorm will be when we return to Terran space, Lee.”
Jenkins knew that Armor Corps’ political enemies would have a field day with the fact that they engaged and destroyed a Jemmin warship in a relatively unimportant star system. A star system to which the Terran Republic had no primary claim.
“I’m aware there will be blowback, General,” Jenkins said firmly.
“And with my ship blown to hell,” Akinouye continued grimly, “we’re going to need to get creative if we want to keep your unit on active-duty where it can continue demonstrating the Metal Legion’s worth.” He sighed in resignation. “On top of which, I doubt Fleet’s going to prioritize the Bonhoeffer’s repairs in any of their shipyards. And the Legion doesn’t have the facilities to conduct those repairs ourselves.”
“Understood, General,” Jenkins said, knowing that the general’s preamble pointed to the necessity of another meeting with one of the wealthiest humans who ever lived: Director Durgan of DIE. “I’ll do what I can to secure the Legion’s interests via private support.”
“Good.” Akinouye nodded. “Which leaves us the matter of figuring out why these non-humans came to Shiva’s Wrath. Answer that question, and we can get the hell off this snowball.”