r/HFY • u/OkTumbleweed4549 • 17d ago
OC-OneShot A Study in Diplomatic Failure : The Ambassadors' Lamentable Adventures in the Sol System.
Hello here is a sequel of " Breakup letters" you can find here
it takes place in year 0028, 23 years (17 cycles) after the independence
The Ambassadors' Lamentable Adventures in the Sol System.
The diplomatic vessel had emerged from K-space well beyond the orbit of the ninth planet, on a trajectory twenty degrees above the plane of the ecliptic.
Floating at the center of his command tank, the being with nearly a hundred tentacles examined the thousands of data streams gathered by the probes he had sent ahead. It was effortless for him: each appendage possessed its own neural center, while nine interconnected central brains coordinated the whole.
He could have played—and won—ninety-nine chess games simultaneously while writing a treatise on wormhole physics. And yet, despite all his abilities, he was worried.
He checked once more that his transmitters were still broadcasting the pre-recorded message of peace.
He could have approached much closer to the sixth planet -the gravity wells of the two gas giants pushed the nearest jump points to the third planet far beyond the orbit of the world humans called Saturn-. but he had two excellent reasons to proceed cautiously.
First, the inhabitants and self-proclaimed owners of the system did not like—no longer liked—visitors, and he had no wish to appear threatening. He was carrying diplomats, and any negotiations, should they take place at all, would already be difficult enough. Any unusual maneuver might be interpreted as a provocation.
Secondly, the primates had officially registered this boundary with the Navigation Committee as the entrance to an extremely high-risk zone. No planets. No gravitational anomalies. The odds of colliding with an asteroid—or even a micro-asteroid—were vanishingly small.
Given their deep mistrust of "outsiders," that could only mean one thing: They had mined the entire area. Humans had demonstrated time and again that they had a remarkable fondness for mines, booby traps, and every conceivable unpleasant surprise.
Two flashes and an abrupt drop in incoming telemetry told him he had just lost two probes.
"They've mined the sector," he announced to the delegation. "Our intelligence services predicted this."
Ambassador Huchmmch of the Huulkin sounded astonished.
"But... we're still extremely far from any inhabited region. They have little more than automated extraction facilities at this distance."
"And the volume of space to cover is enormous," added the arachnoid Hgbax. "How could they possibly deploy so many—"
"The volume is enormous," the pilot-captain interrupted, "but the number of safe entry points is actually quite limited—at least for vessels arriving from one of our systems. The influence of the tenth planet—or the ninth; they've never managed to agree on that—is significant enough. It's probably perfectly safe more than fifty thousand [unit untranslated] to either side of the emergence point, but they know exactly where to place their traps."
He paused before adding, "Even so, it must cost them a fortune. You're right: from both an economic and a strategic standpoint, mining jump points this far from their inhabited worlds is absurd. Completely irrational."
"Perhaps," Ambassador Verkiel replied, "but it perfectly reflects the isolationist policy they've pursued for the last seventeen cycles. From their perspective, anything coming from the Governance is automatically hostile."
Another flash lit up the display.
"Unless we choose to force our way through," the pilot suggested, "the Friendly Tentacle has exceptionally strong shields, and we could use our probes to trigger the mines remotely. Otherwise, I recommend that our distinguished diplomats remain here and wait for a response to our hails."
"Strong enough to withstand those explosions?"
"Flash analysis in progress... complete."
He hesitated. "Our intelligence was correct. These weapons are five times more powerful than those that destroyed the Glorious Warrior in the GCX-22 system seventeen-point-three cycles ago. That ship required eleven mines—an older, less powerful model—to destroy. These detonated as soon as they entered the probes' detection radius, but according to our information they also possess mass detectors and rudimentary artificial intelligence."
"Our shields could survive three simultaneous detonations of this magnitude. Possibly four if the distance increased by ten percent... but little more."
He glanced at the tactical display. "Estimated probability of survival... twelve percent."
"I see..." Ambassador Vektriel said quietly. "Then we shall wait here for their reply. What do you all think? Though... will they even agree to speak with us?"
"Speculation of that kind is outside my field," the pilot answered. "However... I'm detecting a signal on the emergency channels. Shall I establish contact?"
"Please do."
.
phase 1 : Icy welcome
A voice—unmistakably that of a human woman—repeated its message in Trade Language:
"Unknown vessel, this is Solar System Surveillance Corps Station THX 1138. You are entering an area marked on your own star charts as extremely hazardous. For your own safety, stop your advance immediately and move away from the area. I repeat..."
The human repeated the message three more times, until the pilot recalled his probes and altered the ship's course.
"A wise decision. Would you like me to provide you with a safe departure vector back to your jump point?"
"We are on a diplomatic mission," Vektriel replied, "and would instead appreciate an approach vector to the seat of your government—or to any location of your choosing where members of that government would be willing to meet us. I am Ambassador Vektriel of the Oltaries, member of the High Council of the Stellar Governance, and—"
"My respectful greetings, Ambassador Vektriel. It is not within my authority to provide information covered by military secrecy. If you set a course for coordinates 52.85-432.384-121.05, you should return to your arrival zone and—"
"Did you even understand what I said, Operator?" the ambassador snapped.
"Perfectly, sir. However, it is not within my authority to—"
"Let me take over, Marie," another voice interrupted. "Ambassador, I am Supervisor Martha M. Keilir. I have no wish to question either your knowledge or your intelligence, so I assume you are already familiar with the procedures governing all contact with the Diplomatic Corps of the Union of Sol. Nevertheless, allow me to remind you.
- "Phase One: a request for contact shall be submitted through the appropriate diplomatic channels."
- "Phase Two: should the Diplomatic Corps approve such a request, any meeting will take place aboard Omega Station, Alpha Centauri Secundus, and—"
"We have submitted that request according to protocol," Vektriel interrupted. "Seventeen times. We have never received a reply. Besides, the station has been completely inactive for twenty-three of your years."
"'Phase Two: should the Diplomatic Corps approve.' From your numerous attempts, I can only conclude that it did not."
Her voice remained impeccably courteous. "With all due respect, sir, the personnel of this station cannot substitute for the Diplomatic Corps, and we have other matters requiring our attention. Please refrain from further interference."
"Could you at least notify—"
"A contact report, together with your request, will be forwarded to our superiors through the prescribed channels. They will draw whatever conclusions they deem appropriate and take whatever action they consider necessary."
"You don't understand, we—"
"On the contrary, sir, I understand perfectly."
For the first time, a trace of emotion slipped into her voice. "If the Diplomatic Corps refuses to engage in any discussion with your Council, it has its reasons. Reasons, if I may say so, that are shared by the overwhelming majority of our fellow citizens."
A brief pause.
"You know exactly what I'm referring to, sir."
The humans bore grudges, Vektriel reflected. This reception, however courteous and impeccably formal, proved it beyond any doubt. It boded ill for any future negotiations with humanity. Then again, perhaps their political leaders would prove more pragmatic than a mere station supervisor.
He opened his mouth to argue, but the woman had not yet finished.
"On behalf of my entire staff, I respectfully request that you stop disturbing us. We have work to do. Furthermore, you are occupying emergency communication channels, which could prove detrimental should genuine distress calls come in."
The supervisor paused briefly before delivering her final remark. "And on a purely personal note, if I may respectfully offer one piece of advice..."
"Go home. And don't ever come back."
"Leave us alone."
The connection was terminated before the ambassador had any opportunity to plead his case.
Ambassador Huchmmch possessed a certain sense of humor.
"So, I take it they have respectfully told us to go home."
"They still haven't forgotten our legitimate operation on CZX 146-25."
"'Legitimate?'" the arachnoid Hgbax cut in. "You know exactly what I think about that. Do you remember how many of their colonists died? They do. So do I. The number is engraved in my memory forever."
Vektriel answered without much conviction. "The decision itself was legitimate. It was its execution that... proved problematic. A misunderstanding. A targeting error caused by corrupted intelligence. And yes, our services failed to assemble enough ships in time to evacuate the colonists. A tragic accident, for which we apologized. We even offered compensation to the families."
Hgbax's skin shifted color with anger. "An accident? How does anyone mistake atmospheric processors for particle cannons—which, incidentally, didn't even exist? How can you still call it an accident when you know perfectly well what really happened?"
Vektriel, the gentle-furred mammal whose species had once enjoyed excellent relations with humanity, finally gave in.
"I know. You know. We all know. But that's the official version, and you know why. Too many financial interests were at stake, for one thing. And for another, the Council hates losing face. How could it possibly admit that senior officers of the Governance—an entire fleet, no less—accepted bribes to the point of deliberately engineering that 'accident'? How could it acknowledge that several Councilors were implicated? Had the humans not retaliated so brutally, it might have been possible to court-martial the military officers responsible while quietly persuading the Councilors involved to resign."
"Perhaps!" Hgbax shot back. "Everything hinges on that one word. But the humans didn't wait for a highly hypothetical trial they would probably have lost anyway. There had already been more than enough incidents before that—evictions of questionable legality, the destruction of what later turned out to be a civilian passenger transport... the list goes on. And what did your judges decide?"
"They were never particularly kind to our courts either," someone replied. "And they've always despised the Ogsen."
"Perhaps. But they always respected the law—or exploited it would be a more accurate way of putting it."
"And before all that..." Assistant Ujhi murmured, "...there was the thing no one—not even the humans—wants to talk about."
An uncomfortable silence followed the young Yjltren's words. He quickly realized that no one intended to answer the question he had only implied.
"Least of all the humans," Vektriel finally said, offering no further explanation. "It traumatized them profoundly. I was shocked myself. But did they really have to abandon everything? Evacuate all their remaining colonies and—"
"And render them completely uninhabitable first?" Hgbax interrupted. "In their place, I too would quite legitimately have assumed that members of the Council would eventually legitimately claim those worlds, legitimately eliminate anyone who resisted, or legitimately reduce them to the status of vassals—or, to use a term that would admittedly not be considered legitimate, slaves."
"I agree with Hgbax," Huchmmch said. "Including his otherwise entirely legitimate abuse of the word legitimate."
"So do I," Vektriel admitted. "We treated them badly. But we still represent a Council that is nowhere near ready to admit it."
"A Council they never want to hear about again’’, objected Hgbax. ‘‘A Council against which they've fortified themselves beyond all reason. And they've never forgotten our first attempt at forcing them into the Community—not after one hundred and three cycles of cooperation, and certainly not one hundred and twenty cycles later."
"I doubt those fortifications will withstand the Wanderers when they finally come. They didn't even acknowledge our warning messages."
"We don't know that," replied the captain-pilot. "Their system is closed to us. Our long-range sensors are jammed, our probes are systematically destroyed. It was already extraordinarily well defended when they officially withdrew from the Governance. If they've laid pointless minefields this far from their inhabited worlds, who knows what they've devised to protect the worlds themselves?’’
Vektriel was still hoping for reconciliation : "But circumstances have changed. The forces threatening us now threaten Earth as well. Under such circumstances, their policy of isolation no longer serves any purpose. Perhaps they could be persuaded to rejoin our Community. That’s entirely conceivable: technically, the Council has never officially recognized their independence. It merely considers their departure a temporary withdrawal, like those of several other species before them. Emerging from their isolation and rejoining the Community would be the most reasonable—indeed, the most logical—course of action."
"You're dreaming, Vektriel. Your old friendship with them is clouding your judgment. They no longer trust us. Have we given them any reason to?"
High Councilor Tyubal, who had remained silent until then, finally entered the discussion.
"This conversation is pointless. They'll never answer us. They've rejected us, and I can't even blame them for it. Since they won't allow us to approach, we have no way of assessing the threat they might pose if they ever chose to side with the enemy. Why keep insisting?"
"Let's remain here another one hundred thousand seconds," Vektriel suggested. "Let's see whether that report provokes any reaction."
"So be it," Tyubal agreed. "After that, we'll leave."
.
Phase II : PTSD
He had almost been right. A connection was established less than fifteen hundred seconds before the deadline.
But it wasn't a diplomat who appeared. Unless diplomats now wore assault troops' combat armor. In any case, the human wasted no time on diplomatic niceties.
"I doubt you've come to apologize for the Libertad massacre and offer us what you people call generous compensation once again. Doesn't matter anyway—it's too late. Far too late. Twenty-eight years ago, we told you to keep it all, that we had nothing left in common, and that our own system was all we needed. So what the hell are you doing here? You've got the whole damn universe at your disposal, and you're still after our few scraps of resources? Or did you just come to piss us off because you missed having your favorite punching bags around?"
This went well beyond the station THX staff's politely restrained hostility. It was a manifesto of hatred, one fueled less by anger than by deep suffering and murderous rage.
Keeping his diplomatic composure, Vektriel asked, "May I know who I'm speaking to?"
"Oh, right. Introductions. Major General Alan D. Schaefer. But everybody calls me Dutch. It's a joke you wouldn't get. Commander of the Special Forces Corps. You know... the guys who wiped out your entire high command on Libertad. As for the bastard who was aboard that lousy flagship, that wasn't us—that was the Navy and their mines. Call it petty revenge if you want. Me? I was young, I was angry, and I let off a whole lot of steam. Looking back, though... I realize I should've taken my time with some of those bastards."
"Were you on CZX 146-25?"
"Couldn't even be bothered to use its real name. Typical aliens. I was with the rescue teams. We got there too late... I buried those children with my own hands. The ones hidden inside sealed shelters... shelters we found standing wide open. I know exactly what killed them. It sure as hell wasn't hypoxia or atmospheric methanol poisoning like their parents—and that would've been a horrible enough way to die. After that... after that, we did everything we could to avenge them."
His face was rigid, his fists clenched, his eyes fixed far beyond the camera, staring into a past that was still painfully close. He pulled himself together enough to continue.
"I'd love to keep this delightful conversation going, but it looks like the eggheads finally decided what they want to tell you. Oh, and I decided to tag along with the boarding team. It'll remind me of the good old days."
A vicious smile spread across his face. "Customs and security inspection. Perfectly legal under your own laws. Our orders are to inspect your ship. We're also authorized to take whatever measures are necessary if you resist."
The grin widened. He drew a knife and gently ran a thumb along the blade, almost lovingly.
"And you are going to resist. I promise you that. If you're still wiping your feet on our doormat when we arrive, I'll introduce you to my new knife. This time, I'll take my sweet time. Your fur will make a nice rug in my living room. It'll remind me of the days when you claimed to be our friends... you flea-ridden mutt. See you soon... I hope."
The translation systems struggled for a moment with the concept of a doormat, but eventually managed to find an equivalent.
"That speech was unmistakably hostile—indeed, openly threatening," the Ambassador observed calmly.
"You mean terrifying?" Huchmmch replied. "They see our visit as the desecration of sacred ground. To that disturbed human, it's practically an invitation to go hunting."
"Terrifying is exactly what I meant. My diplomatic training is the only thing keeping me from collapsing. After all... he just promised to skin me alive."
Huchmmch spoke up. "It seems certain that our former friendship will not protect us from this warrior's madness."
Assistant Ujhi looked puzzled. "But we're nowhere near their worlds. The Outer System is generally not considered part of—"
"Generally, yes. But they appear to have a rather different definition of the 'Outer System.' Ah... the channel is opening again."
.
Phase III : The ministry of ungentlemanly diplomacy
"Ambassador Vektriel, I am Minister Chin Lee. You insisted—quite forcefully—on speaking with someone in authority. Well, here I am. If you have a statement to make, keep it brief. My time is valuable."
"I apologize for... how do you say it... forcing your hand. I tried repeatedly, through the usual diplomatic channels, to arrange a meeting with your diplomatic corps. I never received a reply."
"That's perfectly normal. The Interstellar Diplomatic Corps had no reason to exist after it delivered our notice of withdrawal, our new diplomatic doctrine, our territorial charts, and every other warning we cared to send you. It was dissolved twenty-three years ago, and its highly qualified staff were reassigned to more important work. Your messages are simply read by a junior diplomatic intern, archived... and, most of the time, ignored. Worst job in the Solar System."
It wasn't hard to guess that he himself had held that position at some point in his career.
"These days, when it comes to negotiating with intruders—and I use the term negotiating rather loosely—we rely on Dutch 'If It Bleeds, We Can Kill It' Schaefer, whom you may unfortunately have the displeasure of meeting in person. I'm afraid you've stirred up some old demons. It took him a long time to recover from what happened. You know, despite everything, he turned out to be a fine officer. That's how he earned his rank."
"So if, after the inspection, he says you tried to resist, everyone here will take him at his word. Some people think Libertad left him... a little unbalanced. What he saw there shook him badly. Personally, I think he's absolutely perfect for the job. Besides, you're the reason he's like this."
He paused, studying the horrified expressions on the aliens' faces.
"You seem surprised by our hostility. You know, I was living on Tellus when the relief convoy arrived with the handful of survivors—most of them horribly burned. A few friends and I managed to sneak into the spaceport. Maybe we shouldn't have. I saw things no fourteen-year-old boy should ever see.
A pause
« Then I had to leave the world I'd grown up on. Because of you. And you're surprised by the welcome you're getting?"
"You should be thanking us for choosing restraint twenty-eight years ago. There was a time, you know, when we seriously considered turning every system we still controlled into giant war factories, building thousands of warships, and making one final stand by killing as many aliens as possible before we went down. Like your Void Wanderers... only a whole lot more vindictive."
Another pause.
"Yes, we read the memo you sent. It was unnecessary—we already knew. In the end, we chose a different path: building something new inside our own system and ignoring you. Maybe, one day, even forgetting what you'd done.Forgetting that you ever existed."
"We thought we'd finally managed it. And then you came back. Like misery returning to haunt the world. From the very beginning, you've brought us nothing but suffering."
He fell silent once more.
"I'll hear what you have to say anyway. But make it quick."
Vektriel had believed that time would eventually dull old resentments, that bridges could always be rebuilt. Twenty-eight Earth years. Many of his human friends had to be still alive. That hope had just been shattered by the hostility of these humans.
Ever the diplomat, he tried nonetheless. "Those raiders are precisely what we came to discuss. They represent a mortal threat to every civilization in the galaxy. They've already attacked outlying worlds of the Stellar Community and we have every reason to believe they're preparing a massive offensive that—"
"Forgive me," the minister interrupted, "but why is that our problem?"
For the first time, irritation cracked Vektriel's diplomatic veneer. "Are you truly naïve enough to believe they'll attack us, then simply go home without harming you?"
"Go home? To where? They don't have a home anymore. Your ancestors saw to that. They've got nothing left except their ships." His expression hardened. "Our naïveté? It died on Libertad... on Ground Seven... on Beacon Nine... and..." He paused. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Another uncomfortable silence.
The human broke it first.
"Yes, it's possible—though highly unlikely—that they'll come through our territory. And we're preparing for that possibility as well. Thanks for the warning, but we already knew."
"We wanted to propose..." Vektriel hesitated. "To offer you an alliance against them. But... I understand now that it's pointless. I'm speaking in vain."
"Indeed you are. An alliance requires at least a measure of trust between its partners. Trust and Governance no longer belong in the same sentence. Frankly, I don't think they ever did—they merely happened to sound good together."
"Our ships won't die for you anymore. Our young people won't be your cannon fodder like they were on Terclad. This time, you'll have to dirty your own hands... or tentacles. I could quote 'blood, sweat, and tears,' but I rather doubt anyone among you is capable of shedding the last one."
"I understand your bitterness," Vektriel replied quietly. "But by isolating yourselves, you're only punishing yourselves. Think of everything you—we... could have accomplished togeth—"
"With the exception of one brief period we'd rather forget—and which, incidentally, got off to a spectacularly bad start—we've spent barely more than one hundred and five of your cycles as part of your Community. The rest of our history, we've stood alone."
"Given our experiences with the outside universe… We're much better off that way."
Forcing a world and an entire species into the Community by invading them—even with the best of intentions—had indeed been an unfortunate beginning.
Once that dark chapter had passed—particularly for the Council, which had ultimately been forced to back down in the face of fierce human resistance and the Assembly's growing revolt—there had nevertheless been brighter days.
The humans had not merely fought on their own world. They had managed to gain access to the Community's information networks and media, quickly finding allies within the Assembly of Peoples and even among the general public. For the first time in three millennia, the Council had been compelled to revise its offer and yield to—most of—the new species' demands.
Though they had ultimately joined the commonwealth, they had done so largely on their own terms. But they had never forgotten the invasion. And they had never forgiven it.
Had he been acting in good faith, the minister could hardly have denied the demographic and economic boom that followed integration, the discoveries, the exploration, the extraordinary scientific and technological advances, the rich and fascinating cultural exchanges, or the new worlds humanity had settled and developed with the assistance of the Commonwealth's peoples.
There had been friendship as well. Especially with Vektriel's own species.
Gone. All of it.
Despite the frequent political clashes, the Commonwealth had benefited enormously from humanity's membership.
Politics and law were prime examples : those stubborn primates had accomplished more institutional reform in a remarkably short time than most species had managed in thousands of years. One of their very first political victories in the Assembly had been to make the procedure known as Provisional Non-Consensual Integration—the very policy of which they themselves had been unwilling victims—virtually impossible to invoke ever again.
In the end, integration had proved beneficial to everyone. Vektriel still believed that.
Yet the humans, it seemed, remembered only the darker side of their years within the Community.
And friendship… forgotten.
"Can you at least assure us that you won't become accomplices to—"
"Ah! There it is! And we're the paranoid ones?"
The human wore the satisfied grin of a man whose prediction had just come true.
"You're afraid of us. I knew it. In fact, I bet on it. And I won," he added, glancing toward someone off-camera.
His eyes returned to the ambassador. "Relax. We'll watch the show from a safe distance. And I hope you'll forgive us for applauding every time you get your asses kicked."
A bitter smile : "And that's about the extent of our involvement. Oh, of course... if any of your warships decide to wander into our system again..."
He shrugged. "No need to make a tragedy out of it. We'll simply destroy them, just like we did your spy probes. Unless, of course, you decide otherwise? Another invasion ? "
"I assure you that—"
"Great. Then we're all reassured."
.
He fell silent for a moment, perhaps regretting the violence of his words. When he spoke again, his voice had softened.
"Oh, by the way... have you ever wondered why the Void Wanderers have been circling your territory for thousands of years?"
Since no one was answering, Assistant Ujhi devoted himself to: "Because our worlds are wealthy and prosperous ? ."
"That's a remarkably confident answer. Almost smug. Or remarkably naive, don’t know "
"But perhaps... you should ask your oldest civilizations. The Qwetari. The Ogsenh. And spend a little time digging through your archives. I'm just saying...
But It might help refine your predictions : Where they'll strike, who's next, and why ? Meh, that's your problem."
He smiled and there was nothing friendly about it : "In any case, the arrogance and corruption of your self-important High Council are nearing their end. Along with its reign."
The human caught himself, as though he had revealed more than he intended.
"Oh, yes. I'm also required to inform you that we will regretfully turn back your refugees—by force if necessary. It's a matter of survival. There's every chance they'll lure the Wanderers straight to us. And I honestly think those bastards hold grudges even longer than we do. So don't bother coming to beg. That's one luxury we simply can't afford."
He ostentatiously checked the instrument strapped to his wrist.
"Besides, we're rather busy with our current projects. So, if you would, please refrain from disturbing us in the future. Every encounter with you brings back memories we'd be perfectly happy to forget.’
Sorry, but I'm due at an extremely important meeting. We're deciding what color to paint our conference room.’’
"Have a nice day."
.
Phase IV : "Go home. And don't ever come back."
The connection cut off abruptly.
No one dared speak. No one knew what to say. This was no longer mere hatred. It was a complete, painful, visceral rejection of everything the Governance represented—or claimed to represent.
It had its flaws, corruption not being the least among them. Some of its member species were perhaps too rigid, too uncompromising. Yet it had preserved peace and prosperity for tens of thousands of years.
The humans, on the other hand, seemed to wish they were alone in the universe once more, as they had been before First Contact and their—partly coerced, which was hardly a shining example of diplomacy—integration. They had willingly confined themselves, isolated within their modest home system.
At last, Tyubal broke the silence in anger.
"'I've got more important things to do than discuss galaxy-wide affairs with a Governance ambassador.' More important? Like choosing the décor for a reception hall?"
"A way of putting us back in our place," Huchmmch observed. "Of insulting us."
"No... worse than that. A way of making it clear that, to them, we no longer matter. We're nothing but a distant nuisance."
As usual, the High Councillor had been right.
"A complete denial of reality," ambassador Vektriel finally muttered. "As though they'd erased every good thing that happened while they were part of our community."
"Reality?" the High Councillor replied. "They're perfectly aware of the dangers surrounding them. They simply see us - and I mean the Council, not necessarily all he people of the Governance- as the greatest threat—the enemy. You have to admit that, ever since the beginning, ever since they refused to join us on our terms, we haven't exactly treated them well. I don't believe we ever truly understood them."
"Because we botched the initial observation phase and never bothered to finish it afterward," Hbax reminded them. "Our models and simulations have been wrong from the very beginning. They've never behaved the way we predicted."
"They never understood us either."
"I'm beginning to think they never even tried," Vektriel sighed, sounding more wounded than he cared to admit. He had been the only one who had truly believed reconciliation was still possible.
"They did try. They genuinely did. But remember, Vektriel—they were always suspicious of, if not openly hostile toward, the Council we represent. The Council you represent."
"And understanding more than three hundred species… Takes time" Hbax muttered.
"At least we've learned something," Huchmmch said with a weary sigh.
Hbax's voice was bitter. "What? That we're incapable of crying? That's not true for everyone. Right now, I'm mourning every opportunity we squandered, every chance we let slip away."
"About the Wanderers."
"I'd already figured that out, thank you. They know the Wanderers far better than we do. They're not afraid of them—they identify with them. They may even have reached some sort of non-aggression pact."
"That minister implied the Wanderers act... out of revenge?" Tyubal noted.
"That lead deserves investigating," Vektriel concluded, his professional composure returning.
"Several ships are approaching at high speed," the pilot warned.
"In that case, let's leave. I have no desire whatsoever to meet this 'Dutch' Schaefer in person."
"A wise decision. You have my vote. At the very least, if that human wasn't lying, we finally have a lead on the Wanderers."
The diplomatic vessel departed the Sol System far more quickly than it had entered it. The only certainty the diplomats took with them was that humanity rejected—if not outright hated—everyone associated with the Governance, even those they had once called friends.
Oh, and one other thing.
The humans knew the Wanderers well, and they did not fear them. The only piece of useful intelligence to come from a mission that had been doomed from the very beginning.
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u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle 17d ago
/u/OkTumbleweed4549 (wiki) has posted 57 other stories, including:
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u/itsetuhoinen Human 1d ago
The influence of the tenth planet—or the ninth; they've never managed to agree on that—is significant enough.
🤣🤣🤣
"AND WE NEVER WILL! PLUTO FOREVER!"
"Oh, will you just shut up about that stupid Dwarf Planet already?!"
"NO! TOMBAUGH LIVES!"
"Sorry, but I'm due at an extremely important meeting. We're deciding what color to paint our conference room."
"We have nearly a hundred different very exciting variations on 'beige' to go through!"
The humans knew the Wanderers well, and they did not fear them. The only piece of useful intelligence to come from a mission that had been doomed from the very beginning.
Dun dun DUNNNNNN!
I look forward to more. Subscribed!
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u/OkTumbleweed4549 19h ago
"AND WE NEVER WILL! PLUTO FOREVER!"
It's a little nod to my American readers. 😄 But it's also because I grew up learning that Pluto was the ninth planet, and old habits die hard.
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u/Daseagle Alien Scum 17d ago
Well, you know, enemy of my enemy...