Tales From the Terran Republic

Dressed in loose-fitting optically adaptive clothing, Federation councilor Veeka of the K(click)eep silently crept through the deserted rubble of what used to be a thriving commercial district entirely too close to the capitol grounds.

She smiled a feral smile as she slid from an abandoned building to blasted ruin.

She wasn’t always a councilor. Entirely too many years ago, her service to her people was of a slightly different nature. Politics was simply what she did when she started slowing down and the cold started to hurt a bit too much.

She slipped in through the open rear entrance of a badly damaged multi-story building and crept inside.

This used to be an art gallery… she thought with pain as she slid through the rubble. Fortunately, almost everything had been relocated.

A gleam caught her eye, and her heart broke a little.

The Vlaa in the First Growing Season…

She winced.

It was an archaic glass pane hologram of the stately Vlaa temple on Groshauranan captured before modern technology had wholly surrounded the majestic building.

She carefully gathered all of the shards she could find. Perhaps there would be enough resolution on the largest of them to reconstruct it.

Once again, she felt grief over… over everything.

How could it have gone so wrong and so quickly?

Was Karashel right?

No.

Of course, she wasn’t. She was just another charlatan, another opportunist who always appears when the body politic weakens, like the pustules they are.

Besides, now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Now was the time for action.

She crept up the damaged staircases and smashed sculptures, trying not to recognize them. Soon she reached a shattered window on an upper floor that provided the view she sought.

Across the street was the sprawling Varigated Spring, a large park with a fountain and holographic sculpture, now as ruined as everything else in this neighborhood. It should be as desolate and deserted as everything else in this area, unofficially part of one of the “no man’s lands” now present in her capital.

It should be if it wasn’t now the de-facto headquarters of the new power in the Federation chambers, the Communalist Party. Instead, it was crowded with dozens of races filling their plates from overflowing buffet after buffet under large holographic displays showing the latest in Federation entertainment.

This is where they moved after Aspiration Park became simply too small to accommodate their extravagant displays of conspicuous consumption, or in this case, conspicuous generosity. The effect was the same, a display of prosperity and power.

“Bread and circuses,” Veeka muttered to herself. It was right out of the human history playbook…

Because it worked…

A bus pulled up. That was another of their little tricks. Once Aspiration Park was not enough, and they moved out here, they set up transportation not only to and from that park but to and from many other parts of the city as well.

In some areas, it was the only public transportation that could (or would) provide service.

Of course, it was completely free of charge… and suspiciously free of problems. The “accidents” that plagued Federation transit miraculously left them untouched.

Every week, they were adding new routes, and the city was all too happy to let them do it!

There were even rumors that the city was considering allowing them to provide security contractors! Veeka desperately hoped that was untrue. Otherwise, she and her party would have to look like the bad guy when they blocked it or at least tried to.

Cleaning up a park or two or providing some bus routes was one thing. Letting them have a private army prowling the streets of Capital City was another. There was no way she would allow that to happen!

Her party would stop that… as long as they could, that is. More systems joined their banner every day, even ones that she would have never expected.

Between them and the seemingly unstoppable Forsaken, the very fabric of the Federation was starting to unravel.

The hyperspace network had been nearly entirely destroyed by Forsaken fleets at exactly the time that Karashel struck with her demonic contracts. There was no way that was purely a coincidence.

Rebuilding the transmitters in space was no longer an option. They had to be built on planetary surfaces where they could be properly protected by defenses that cost too much and took too long to build. Recovery was going to take a very long time.

At least the convoy system seemed to work. It increased transportation time and costs so severely that it was wrecking the economy, but at least things were getting through…

For now…

After sustaining some heavy losses, the Forsaken seemed to back off, only targeting lone freighters and stragglers (as well as any remaining hyperspace terminals).

They had backed off almost too much. Something was up. Unlike those who proclaimed victory entirely too readily, Veeka was filled with dread.

From what she understood, the humans and Jessica Morgan weren’t the type of foe that would back down that easily… unless they were waiting for something.

That “something” kept Veeka up at night.

They had to put the Forsaken down and do it now, regardless of the cost. Raylesh had to be crushed, and Zaran had to be brought to heel. Their fleets, including their so-called homestead ships, had to be located and captured, no matter what.

Every day they were allowed to remain was one more day they gained strength and developed even more diabolical things from a history so dark that it defied belief. Humans were monsters… All of them. Behind their soft eyes and gentle smiles lurked a legacy of… of… unspeakable horrors that they gleefully inflicted on their own planet and even on each other, things that her species never did…

That most species never did… ever…

And now they were awake, and Veeka knew in her heart that if they weren’t stopped, it would be not only the end of the Federation but the deaths of trillions.

They must be stopped… eliminated if necessary… Hopefully, it won’t come to that. But, if it does, it will truly be a situation where only one side will not only win but survive.

If you had told Veeka a year ago that she would be in favor of genocide, she wouldn’t have laughed. She would have been offended to the point of rage.

Yet… Here she was. The Forsaken… humans… had to be stopped. She had absolutely no doubt that everything that had happened until now was nothing but the prelude to a symphony of horrors that would scar the galaxy for a thousand years.

She had, of course, called for the necessary measures, but her voice was just one pitiful squeak drowned out by the murmurs of uncertainty, fear, and greed. The “elephant’s foot” did precisely what it was supposed to do. Nobody wanted to be the one to “pull the trigger” on the Forsaken for fear of what else they could and, more importantly, would do.

Nobody wanted their planet to be the one struck next. Nobody wanted their economy to be further damaged.

Nobody wanted to pay the credits or sacrifice the resources necessary to build the fleets and raise the troops it would require to stop what was already beyond stopping.

“The plague will get them.” “The convoy system is working.” “The blockades will halt their industry.” “They have lost too many ships. They can’t sustain these attacks.” These were the convenient excuses that were brought up time and time again. The enclaves were all under siege and blockade. They can just starve them out.

Except… They weren’t starving.

That was what Veeka repeatedly tried to drive home. These humans weren’t like the rest of us. They all survived the Sol Wars. What the void was a blockade or a siege going to do to them? At most, it was an annoyance. Intercepted conversations did not indicate starvation. They indicated dissatisfaction. It wasn’t, “I’m starving.” It was, “If I have to eat one more bowl of yeast and algae, I will lose my fucking mind.”

If anything, the health of the “besieged” humans was improving... if they were being besieged at all. Too many systems either dropped the siege because of fear of reprisals or never attempted one in the first place. In fact, the Federation was driven from more than one system when they arrived… by the system’s own SDF!

Too many systems were sympathetic to those… those fiends… They had no idea what they were letting live among them, what that gentle, grandfatherly figure who had been there longer than they had been alive actually was… what he would do to them all with the slightest provocation… or just because he could.

Veeka had, of course, lent her voice to these concerns as well. Her “reward”? Disapproval and a loss of influence. What’s worse, her own people had sternly cautioned her about her “dangerous and hateful” speech and her “recklessness” in the investigation and condemnation of the Baleel (who were clearly in league with the humans) and the rest of the Communalist Party (who were accessories to treason at the very least).

In fact, if it were to become known she was here doing what she was doing, it could be the end of her career.

She no longer cared. Someone had to protect the Federation and, more importantly, her people. She had protected the K(click)eep her entire life, and if her career was the price, then that was the price.

Lying on her belly, she silently moved closer to the window and adjusted her visor, which was considerably thicker than the one she usually wore.

It was as bad as she had heard, if not worse.

It wasn’t just Aat, Wttl, and other such lowlies in the park. There were members of races with much higher status mixed in, all dining, relaxing, and enjoying the new and much-improved park. Her breath caught with surprise. There were Novux lounging on the upper floors of nearby ruins, Vulxeen stuffing their faces around the fountain, even Xx, risking the wrath of Caw, chatting with a… creators preserve us… a Y’keen… one of the elder races!

There were others as well, all naively believing that there actually was such a thing as a free lunch.

She zoomed in on various individuals. Everyone seemed to be happy and relaxed.

She felt a chill.

That’s what that creator-cursed slug was selling here. This was probably the one place in the whole city that was guaranteed to be safe! If half of what Veeka suspected was true, no sniper would attack, regardless of who was present. Anyone could just go outside and pretend, if just for a moment, that things were like they used to be.

It wasn’t just the food…

That bitch…

No. She didn’t come here to get angry.

She came here to investigate some very interesting rumors and some very encouraging indications.

There were very clear signs that the Communalist Party was starting to fall apart! There were rumors of disputes at all levels, including Karashel and her fellow conspirators, over nearly everything. Their party no longer voted or acted as a single cohesive political entity, often splitting their vote. Individual party members would cut deals over their single vote, or a group of them would do the same. At the same time, another group would be doing the same to the other side. Karashel seemed to be trying to keep control, often releasing “information packages” concerning bills and motions that were clearly biased, but often her party members often disregarded these or even drew conclusions that ran counter to the Baleean vote.

Furthermore, there were rumors of some very real differences of opinion at the highest level, those who profited the most from the “Baleelan Gambit”. There was even talk of heated arguments between the charter members concerning the management of their “customers” and what to do with them and with their obscene and criminal gains.

The party seemed to be breaking up, with each leader having their own clique of members following them. Sometimes these groups would argue and bicker in the chambers of the capitol itself!

Just yesterday, there was a notable incident where the tiny Loo councilor screamed at the councilor for the Besl over atrocities, saying that they were “betraying the vision”.

Then again, Veeka wanted to scream at the Besl herself. What they were doing to their “customer” was horrific. Yes, they had suffered and were badly mistreated by the race that was now at their mercy. However, nothing justified what they had done. Every horrible thing that Caw had warned about was taking place… and more. The death toll was…

She couldn’t let herself think about that now. She was here to identify any potential weak points and gather any information that might be useful… or at least worth risking her career.

All of them were still present at the park, and they all sat together in a show of unity. Perhaps they would argue and let slip something she could use.

She turned her attention to the park itself. What was once an open park was now a walled garden. Surprisingly attractive and sound walls had been erected with watchtowers and guarded gates. From what she heard, each of the charter races (and members of their clique) would take turns guarding the park.

Every race, that is, except the Baleel. Apparently, the thought of armed Baleel was “silly”. “Contractors” handled security when it was their turn.

The other cliques used their turn to display their strength and their armaments, often taunting members of the different cliques as they passed.

Some of these interactions turned into confrontations. As of yet, there had been no reports of actual violence, but some witnesses said that the exchanges could be very nasty.

Today seemed to be the Rill’s turn.

Veeka didn’t like the Rill. They seemed nice enough, but something about their combination of serpentine, reptilian, and insectoid features hit all of her instinctive “nope” buttons. A large glossy centipede/snake with sharp mandibles sent shivers up her furry little spine.

She looked closer and frowned.

They were all armed with what appeared to be some sort of gunpowder arm, but they were NOT crude or improvised as the report said, nor were they AKs which other reports claimed. Instead, they were well-crafted long arms with intricately carved and inlaid stocks that matched their physiology.

There was also a wheeled armored vehicle. Again, this was not improvised, or if it was, it was very well done. The sides were made of sloped plates, and the windows were of a thick transparent material.

On the top of the vehicle was a heavier weapon. She zoomed in further.

It was definitely a gunpowder arm of some sort. The ammunition was clearly visible as it fed into the weapon from a side-mounted hopper on a belt of some kind of cloth.

The cartridges were NOT Terran!!!

They did not match any of the ammunition that had been introduced to the Federation. She zoomed in on a cartridge and took careful recordings and measurements as best she could without using an active scan.

For the millionth time, she cursed the humans. She did not have access to the Locus. She had absolutely no idea what she was looking at. All she could do was note that it looked similar to Terran ammunition, but it wasn’t. The measurements were not a multiple of any of the Terran measurement systems, modern or historical, nor did they match any of the hundreds of rounds from that accursed tablet that the Forsaken were gleefully scattering about. It could be any of the heavier rifle rounds, but it matched none of them.

The important thing was NONE of the arms she was viewing were the clumsy, shoddy things she had been shown in briefings. These were well-designed, elegant, and finely crafted arms…

Arms that should NOT be on the streets of Capital City!

There wasn’t a damned thing Veeka could do about it, though. A quick check of the Rill confirmed what she already knew.

They were all diplomatic embassy staff, recently added as security or office help or her personal favorite, miscellaneous.

Any embassy could have armed security, and there was no clear limit on what that entailed. All races were increasing their defensive capabilities, and all were resistant to being limited in that ability. The Rill having an armored vehicle with what had to be a heavy machine gun of some sort made perfect sense these days.

In fact, the vehicle she rode to and from the capitol every day wasn’t that much different. It just looked nicer and was more discreet. Head-to-head, it could probably take out that Rill APC with little difficulty.

The fact that they were providing security to this park was… irregular… but was approved by the city. Considering that their councilor or other high-ranking representatives were present in the park made it that much more legitimate, regardless of how it made the fur on Veeka’s spine stand on end.

As she silently watched, another bus arrived, and a group of Loo exited along with the rest of the passengers.

Veeka had seen plenty of Loo, but none like these.

For lack of a better word, they looked mean, something very hard for a little Loo to pull off. Again, Veeka couldn’t risk a scan, but her detailed passive analysis told her plenty. They had significantly more muscle mass and a lower body fat percentage than the Loo she had previously seen.

Their attire consisted of long (for a Loo) coats, poofy trousers that were bloused into little but very rugged boots, and very oddly shaped brimmed hats.

They were armed with short-barreled weapons slung across their back or shoulder and a large (for a Loo) knife worn on their belts.

Again, the weapon was not an exact match for anything on the tablet, but the basic design appeared to be something akin to an assault rifle or submachine gun. The small size of the wielder made it hard to tell.

However, the bore of the weapons was recognizable. It was consistent with a nine-millimeter Terran weapon. Nine-millimeter pistol ammunition was something that was now readily available even on the streets.

The Rill stepped forward, flaring their crests, as the Loo approached, seemingly unintimidated by the much larger Rill.

She activated her directional microphone towards the two groups as they reached each other.

“Oh look,” one of the Rill said, “Lunch is here.”

“Oh goody,” another said, “I was getting peckish.”

“Not much meat on them, though,” another Rill said as they stepped forward, splaying their mandibles. “I guess there is enough to tide us over.”

“I have your lunch right here,” one of the Loo said as they clutched at their genitals as the Loo all giggled and sneered.

“I believe that is what I said,” the Rill replied with a flutter of their crest. “I suppose I will allow you the mercy of having one last self-fertilization first… It is only right to allow you to bid farewell to your mate.”

The Rrill’s companions buzzed, clicked, and hooted.

“How kind,” the Loo sneered, “Hang on,” he said as he pulled out his communicator. A few moments later, he said, “Your sister says hi.”

The Loo squeaked and giggled.

“You wish,” the Rill clicked, “You freel-cvlaker.”

The Loo looked confused.

“What?” he asked, “How do you freel a cvlack?”

Veeka just sighed as she took some notes. “They weren’t at each other’s throats. That was just…”

A series of “loud” squeals made her look back up.

“That is vile!” the Loo giggled, “I’m totally using that!”

“Hey!” another one squeaked, pointing at the APC. “Is that one of your Vzz ~’s?”

“Yes,” one of the Rill said proudly. “We got them in yesterday!”

“Can I see?” the Loo squeaked as it scurried over to the APC.

“Certainly,” The Rill said as another Rill on the APC reached down and pulled the Loo up.

“So, these are water-cooled, right?” The Loo asked curiously.

“Yes,” the Rill replied. “It allows for sustained fire for a very time. You can really lay down the fire with one of these beauties!”

“Neat!” the Loo exclaimed. “What are you firing?”

“The traditional, eight parv cartridges, but we’ve replaced the copper-clad lead with something just a little better.”

“Why didn’t you just chamber it for Terran stuff?”

“Why don’t you just go and fuck yourself?” the Rill buzzed, “This cartridge was designed for this weapon. Besides, we aren’t going to freel their cvlacks. We can make our own ammo! You should do the same.”

“Preaching to the acolyte, brother,” the Loo squeaked. “But, nine-millimeter is cheap, and the Terrans make some nice loads. We were able to get a lot of it.”

“Yeah, but now you are freeling their cvlacks,” the Rill clicked. “You going to be bending over for the fucking Republic forever?”

“Again,” the Loo squeaked, “Preacher. Acolyte. I would love to see our old twelve-fours with modern projectiles. The Terran shit is either too big or too small for us. We’re using pistol rounds in our rifles, Goddess bless us! It makes a nice street sweeper, but it’s not a proper rifle. We have some seven point six two’s, but, shit. We need a bipod and a muzzle brake.”

“What about…”

Veeka sighed quietly. Whatever divisions there might be, it hasn’t made it to the soldiers. The Loo and the Rill were supposed to be at odds. In fact, the Rill councilor had accused the Loo of “screwing” them over because of some political arrangement or another. From what Veeka gathered, they were both supposed to vote a certain way and the Loo “sold out” at the last moment, an unforgivable betrayal.

However, here their soldiers were friendly, even to the point of unit rivalry…

Veeka looked at the soldiers again. The Loo had pulled out a few boxes and were handing them to the Rill, who seemed very pleased.

…and exchanging goods... They were not “about to come to blows”.

One of the Loo was now behind the Rill’s machine gun while the Rill was clearly showing it how to operate the weapon.

Nope. They were getting along just fine.

Veeka started to look for Karashel and the other councilors. They were usually pretty conspicuous when they held court.

She let out a few unconscious ultrasonic clicks as she did…

And froze.

The room she was in was empty.

There shouldn’t be two sofas in it.

She slowly turned around.

A few yards behind her, two Baleel were just smiling at her.

“Hello!” one of them said cheerfully.

“Hi!” the other one added.

Veeka just lay there in shock.

I didn’t even hear them approach…

Her race’s hearing was beyond acute. These two Baleel had crept up to within striking distance, and she had no idea.

If they wanted to, they could have killed her.

“Whatcha doin’?” The silver-skinned one asked cheerfully.

She was hiding in a building with advanced surveillance equipment spying on them. That’s what she was clearly doing.

“Are you hungry?” the other one asked as they held up a small basket. “We brought you lunch!”

“It’s good!” the silver-skinned one added.

“Very good!” his companion exclaimed.

“When I’m spying,” the silver-skinned Baleel said, “I bring lunch. You should always bring lunch.”

“You should never spy on an empty stomach,” the other Baleel said cheerfully.

Veeka sat up and sighed. There were several phrases in her culture for the situation in which she now found herself, none of which were fit for polite conversation.

“If you want to spy,” the silver-skinned Baleel said, “You should just go to the park. It will be a lot easier.”

“And the food is better,” the other Baleel added.

“Karashel says that you can sit up here all you want,” the silver-skinned Baleel said, “But she also says that you will learn a lot more if you join them for lunch… Okay bye!”

The two Baleel undulated (with a lot more noise) out of the room.

Veeka sighed, stood, and collected the basket.

She looked across the street.

“Void claim it,” she muttered as she exited the ruined gallery…

And started walking towards the park.

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