First Contact

Chapter 520: Resurgence

Una-unkj-ug was a Welkret. A short, furry lemur with large eyes and an expressive face. She was often given to emotional outbursts and a need for attention from her spouse, who was the Second Assistant to the Third Assistant of the Twenty-Second High Most of Interstellar Shipping for several of the Core Systems around the Unified Council System. Her blue hair was soft and well groomed, her eyes a bright sparkling green, and her short triangular ears were always perky and adorned with jewelry.

She had three children, all littles who were weaned and could walk, but still needed care and affection from her, something she was more than happy to provide.

And of course, she had Mew Mew.

She was sitting on the couch, watching the Tri-Vid feed from the Unified Species Council Chamber. The Tri-Vid had given out the Mandatory Viewing Tone and so of course she had gathered up the children and sat down.

The show had been boring for the littles. They had curled up and gone to sleep, her youngest sucking her fingertips for comfort. Una-unkj-ug had gotten up, gotten a blanket, and covered them up, then sat down to watch the proceedings.

Mew Mew sat on her lap. Well, more like was curled up in a fuzzy puddle on her lap, making that soothing rumble she liked so much as she stroked her exotic pet's fur.

She wished her husband, Mank-unkj-ug, whom she referred to affectionately as "Manky", was here to watch this with her. Like a lot of others working for the Interstellar Shipping Council, he was away trying to convince the computers on many worlds that the starships were not over or under weight by 800 pounds and to let the ships dock or land.

Still, the proceedings were interesting to her. She had watched the Mantid diplomat who represented the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems the last time the insectiod had been around with great interest.

Una loved the diplomat's taste in hats. From the ornate and complicated ones that looked like they'd fall off if the diplomat moved wrong to the basic spartan little head covering called a 'beret', Una had even loved what was called a 'baseball cap' and had ordered three of them with different designs on them before all shipping from the Confederacy had been banned.

Her favorite was the one with the logo for something called 'Countess Crey Fruit Pies' on it, although her oldest child, her only son, loved to run around with the 'Liquid Hate' logo sporting baseball cap.

Personally, Una hoped that trade would be normalized with the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems soon.

She knew she shouldn't order things through the excitingly named 'Junker Network' to purchase grey market goods, being the wife of a high ranking assistant in the Shipping Council, but there were just so many amazing things available from the Terrans.

She glanced over at the windowsill, where there were three clay busts of a Treana'ad head. Her children had dutifully mixed the gel and the seeds, carefully smeared the gel on the clay busts, and put the busts in the sun. They had been thrilled at how green grass had grown on the clay busts. It had taken a long time, but all three of them eagerly ran out in the mornings to look at their P'Thok heads and compare them to see who's had grown the most.

Her husband had been a little nervous about her ordering off the BobCo Holocatalogue, but when her husband had inquired to his supervisor if it was permissible, the supervisor's wife had commed Una to talk all about the fur grooming appliances available from BobCo.

Why, just yesterday she had gone to dinner with the supervisor's wife and several other wives of highly ranking Interstellar Shipping Council functionaries so they could all show off their BobCo jewelry and trinkets.

They had all ooh'd and aaw'd over Una's genuine imitation Terran Red Plains Warrior's silver and turquoise jewelry depicting the savage feathered reptiles called 'dinosaurs' that their ancestors had ridden. She had ordered it from a junker six months ago and the junker had sent it through contacts so it was delivered right to her home!

The scene on the Tri-Vid showed the various system representatives all milling about. Una had been around the halls of power for enough time to know nervousness when she saw it.

Given the subject of today's meeting, she did not hold those in the Council Chamber in contempt.

It wasn't every day that the Unified Council signed an unconditional surrender to the insectoid representative of a hostile foreign power.

Mew Mew was rumbling on her lap as she tapped the remote control and the BobCo Little Teapot poured her another cup of that wondrous liquid ambrosia and then the softly glowing coaster floated over and settled down next to her. She took the cup and sipped it.

The Grey Earl Tea was delicious and she'd quickly developed a taste for it. When she'd introduced it to the other matrons, they too had quickly come to love it.

The Lanaktallan on the podium, flanked by two of the massive and ominous Terran military cyborgs, nervously tapped the lectern. The microphone squealed and Una sat up as the various beings hurried to their seats.

The cyborgs were there, Una had learned from friends, to ensure that the Council understood that everything they did, every decision they made, every word they uttered, did so under the watchful eyes of Task Force Ragnarok. Even with the menacing cyborgs, the Council Chamber was in full session. She noticed that even the Hamaroosa, Telkan, and Tnvaru delegates had returned for this occasion.

Una was glad. She had liked having dinner with the matrons of the Tnvaru economic and industrial consortiums. Una had liked their careful attention to detail and had enjoyed listening to their travels.

"The Terran Diplomatic Liaison Team," the Lanaktallan said, then moved off the stage.

The person who the Tri-Vid cameras swooped over to cover was massive. A bulky figure, massively muscled, in a Terran Space Force uniform. The chyron listed the being as "General Solovar - Confederate Space Force" and Una knew he was important. Two nights ago Una and several others had watched a holodocumentary on the Grodd Kingdom, a land of intelligent primates distantly related to the Mad Lemurs of Terra. Una and her friends had been fascinated by the history, the landscape, the architecture, and the views of the intelligent primates going about their daily routines, their complex government system, and their history.

The 'Grodd' moved to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlebeings, both, and neither, I present: Dreams of Something More, Plenipotentiary Representative of the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems and Allied Systems," General Solovar said into the microphone.

Una thrilled at his rumbling and deep voice. So authorative, so dominating, so...

expressively male.

The cameras swooped back around to show the Mantid diplomat entering the Council Chamber.

She was wearing the Terran Diplomatic uniform. Leather jacket with zippers, chains, and spikes, with "GRUBS OF ANARCHY" stenciled on the back, a black beret with a flash of the Terran Confederacy's logo, and a black leather abdomen wrap. She was swinging a chrome donorcycle chain in one hand and making the switchblade in her other hand flash as she moved it around with her fingers.

Una loved that jacket. She had one almost like it in her closet. She had worn it to a party six months ago and it had been all the rave.

The Mantid stepped up to the lectern, General Solovar stepping back. The Mantid tapped the microphone and stared silently at the gathered beings, taking time to make eye contact with the holocams and flycams.

Dreams stared directly at the flycams.

"Citizens, Neo-Citizens, and other quasi-members of the Unified Sentient Species," the Mantid said.

Una sat up straight.

"Today marks the beginning of the end of the terrible war between the Unified Species Council and the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems," the Mantid said. "The days to come will be filled with uncertainty and change, both of which will be frightening at times.

"But remember, from the viewpoint of the Terran Confederacy of Aligned System and their ally nations, the war was never with you as people, you as individuals or even as a species, but instead with your government and your chains of authority. Upon the signing of this document, you will all have the rights and privileges granted by the unconditional surrender documents to a surrendering peoples.

"You will be protected by the Twelve Universal Rights of Existence, by the Right of Consent, the Right of Self-Determination, the Right to Speak Your Mind, and most importantly, the Right to Freely Vote As You Will.

"That last one, gentlebeings, is the most important right you will ever hold. There is nothing in the galaxy so precious, so valuable. Wars have been fought to extinction over that right. Billions have marched into the guns of would-be tyrants over that right. Without that right, you are little more than chattel, slaves, property owned by whoever has the guns to make you kneel and present your neck to their boot.

"You will have that right for as long as you can hold it.

Dreams of Something More swung the chrome chain back and forth, the highly polished metal flashing in the lights.

"You may ask, in the future, why isn't the Confederate government protecting you more, doing more to ensure your safety and security? Why did the government allow a product that produces hangovers, could enable you to fly into a jet engine, or even turn your fur green.

"It is because the government is here to safeguards your rights through force of arms, arms wielded by citizens who have volunteered to safeguards your rights, even from the government, they are not here to safeguard you. That is your responsibility.

"You will be introduced to a concept that my people had to be dragged kicking and screaming into understanding."

Dreams leaned forward slightly.

"Freedom. Horrible, horrible freedom."

Una bounced up and down on the sofa and clapped her hands together in excitement.

She watched as one at a time each diplomat came forward and signed the massive vellum parchment of the treaty. Some did so hunched down, trying to make themselves smaller. Others stood upright and defiant but signed anyway. Others signed with a flourish.

But they all signed.

Una sat on her sofa, petting Mew Mew, her children asleep on the floor, as Dreams of Something More and General Solavar signed.

And the Council-Confederacy War was over.

With the whisper of a pen on fine vellum.

-----------------

Third Most High Detective Lnosvumo'o stood at the window of his study staring out at the night. With darkness had come a thick rich white fog that almost seemed to glow with an inner light. Lnosvumo'o knew that if he opened the window tendrils of that fog would seep in to puddle on the ground.

Despite staring out the window, he wasn't seeing the fog, the night, or even the odd lights and shadows within the fog.

He was seeing what he had done.

Sure, there were those who would say that he had done what he could, the only option left to him, when he had discovered that justice had been suborned by wealth, power, privilege, and corruption.

But he had taken oaths. Oaths that he had meant when he had stated them, oaths that he held tight to even now.

Even with all he had done.

In his lower left hand he held a little black book. The cover was faux-leather. Stamped with gold foil was the words " kniga na mrtvite" into the fake leather. Inside was spidery script, all done in dark red ink, as well as terrible drawings of great power.

A power he had wielded as ruthlessly as any gangland mobster.

With a grim expression he turned away from the window and clopped over to his desk, sitting down in a comfortable bench seat. The back and armrests swung into place and he leaned against the backrest and sighed.

After a moment he poured himself a stiff drink of synthahol, chugged the glass down, then poured himself another.

He set the book down, opened it, and paged through it.

Names, descriptions, drawings of faces, lists of terrible crimes, dates and times.

Each face was marked out with an 'X' of smeared dark crimson.

Mobster. Serial Rapist. Serial Killer. Mass Murderer.

The list of crimes went on and on as he slowly paged through the book, sipping at his drink.

The lights flickered and Lnosvumo'o tensed slightly. He poured himself a refill on his drink, the synthahol burning like fire in his first stomach, the smell of it making his nostrils burn, his feeding tendrils recoiling back out of his mouth at the burning taste of it.

The lights seemed to dim as the temperature dropped in the room. The smartglass window flashed ERROR almost too quickly to be seen before resetting. The shadows slipped out of the corners and from under and behind furniture to creep across the walls and floor.

Lnosvumo'o felt anxiety begin to rise inside of him as a thick mist began to rise up off the floor.

He reached the end of the book, the thin section of empty pages that never seemed to get any smaller. He took the pen out from where it had been cleverly hidden in the cover and held it over the page.

"Call for blah bleh blah street justice," the whisper was cold as ice and smelled of iron and hot copper, seeming to come from the shadows that had gathered in the room.

"There is none left to be had," Lnosvumo'o said quietly. His breath steamed out in front of him in the chill of the room.

"Inscribe the names of the blah bleh blah guilty," the cold voice whispered. The voice changed slightly. "It happened, blah bleh blah, in the broad daylight..."

The singsong whisper made Lnosvumo'o's temples pound with anxiety.

'There are none left that deserve your particular 'mercy'," Lnosvumo'o said quietly.

"Why should blah-bleh-blah slime escape the law?" came the answer from the shadows around him.

"There is one name," Lnosvumo'o said quietly. His hand shook as he held the pen over the parchment. "One who has committed murders, dealt in death, defied the law."

There was a low chuckle, full of malevolent amusement.

Lnosvumo'o slowly inked the name in. He watched as his own bold confident strokes slowly flowed and reformed into the spidery script. A picture appeared of the named being, a detailed yet crude sketch. Data appeared, name, location, place of residence, employment, all of the statistical data on the being.

A cold white hand settled on his shoulder and Lnosvumo'o flinched slightly.

"You believe, blah-bleh-blah, that I would punish that being?" the cold voice whispered.

"He has violated the law," Lnosvumo'o said. He took a deep drink, finishing off the glass, and grabbed a bottle of real alcohol. Telkan bourbon. He cracked the seal and poured a glass.

"The letter, perhaps," the voice said.

"He has perverted and suborned justice," Lnosvumo'o said. He lifted the glass and sipped at the expensive bourbon, made even more expensive by the Telkan System's succession from the Unified Council.

"The letter, perhaps," the voice whispered.

There was a soft glow in the window and Lnosvumo'o watched as a small Shavashan female squirmling hopped up. The diminutive reptilian held a candle in her hands, she had an odd head covering that Lnosvumo'o had learned was a bonnet, and she wore a vest of white linen.

Lnosvumo'o suppressed a whimper.

"Which is guilty, the gun that takes the life of someone or the being who pulled the trigger?" Lnosvumo'o asked.

There was a low chuckle and Lnosvumo'o watched as the tiny Shavashan lifted up the candle, which began to glow brighter to reveal a Telkan podling on her left and a Leebaw tadpole on her right.

"You see yourself as the being who blah-bleh-blah pulled the trigger," the cold voice chortled. The cold white hand gently smoothed the shoulder of Lnosvumo'o's vest. "The trigger had been pulled before you blah-bleh-blah even knew of my existence. You were merely the one who aimed the blah-bleh-blah gun."

"I am the only guilty one left," Lnosvumo'o argued.

"The only honest being in a system that had fallen to blah-bleh-blah corruption call himself guilty in the hopes of wiping away his guilt," the voice whispered. The hand released Lnosvumo'o's shoulder.

"You killed, slaughtered, at my guidance," Lnosvumo'o said. "I perverted everything I stood for in my pursuit of justice."

"Then live with it," the cold voice said softly. "You live with it."

The Shavashan and her tiny companions slowly vanished as the candlelight dimmed, darkness filling the smartglass.

The fog slowly began to sink, soaking somehow into the floor. The shadows slid back to where they belonged and the temperature began to rise.

The book shivered and turned to blood that ran down the desk blotter and dripped off the edge, vanishing only inches from the edge of the desk, never reaching the floor or Lnosvumo'o's front legs.

As the lights slowly brightened, Lnosvumo'o put his face in his hands and wept.

-------------

In a forgotten chamber in the storm drains and sewers deep below the cities a pale figure in elegant clothing opened the lid of a coffin. The inside was padded with rare silks, a vibrant purple and red. A small line of dirt, taken from Terra itself, could be seen at the foot of the coffin.

The elegant figure climbed into the coffin, lying down, and crossed his hands over his chest. The lid slowly closed, a lock clicking and whirring to seal the coffin. Chains rattled up from beneath it, binding the coffin in heavy cold forged iron links.

The Lanaktallan Renfield supervised as the massive, ancient, and corroded shipping container was loaded with the coffin, the pipe organ, and the other furnishings. The Renfield trotted alongside the worker robots as they moved the massive shipping container to the starport and loaded it onto a ship.

The doors clanged shut on the cargo ship. An older model, without a single living being aboard. It lifted off with a whine of mistuned repulsors as the Lanaktallan Renfield trotted away.

The two robots woke up in an alley, reeking of alcohol, missing one shoe each, wearing only pants. The last thing either had in their memory buffers was unloading agricultural products from a massive cargo ship.

They were fined for unauthorized wear of pants and single shoes.

The Renfield woke up in a hotel room, surrounded by ragged clothing, a suitcase full of credsticks, a VI lawyer holocube, and guns on the bed and the worst hangover the Lanaktallan had ever had. A prostitute was in bed next to him, her makeup smeared and completely naked in the dim light filtering in through the dirty window.

The last thing he could remember was trying to settle an argument between the food dispensers and the parking overwatch VI's.

Written on his upper right arm was the comlink number for a lawyer. On his upper left arm was the comlink number for a notorious brothel.

He was naked except for a gunbelt around his waist.

He quickly shut the suitcase, got dressed, and snuck away.

After all, it wasn't everyday you found a suitcase full of lawyers, guns and money.

------------

Dreams of Something More saw the notification pop up on her datalink eye implant and breathed an internal sigh of relief.

NOSFERATU INITIATIVE DEACTIVATED

She gave no clue of her relief as she stood on the podium and listened to the Hamaroosan delegate formally request acceptance into the Terran Confederacy of Aligned System.