Pent Up Hostility

A Wilki Jhanden Adventure

Up until that moment, it had been a disappointing week for the Mayor of Siceltown. His thinning hair and pasty skin had not improved under the stress of a gamble that was far from paying off. It had taken every ounce of political capital and instinct he had accumulated over twenty five years in the public service to put his plan into action, years of trading favours and outright begging to bring it to fruition. But he had succeeded, in the end, convincing the council to reverse generations of policy. His moment of triumph, though, was promising to be quite bitter.

“No one is coming,” he said, more to himself then his assembled aides. “By the tails, no one is coming.” They said nothing, of course. This exceeded any of the worst case scenarios they had presented, and so figured it was best to remain quiet. Which was smart of them, he realised, even if this minor display of cleverness was too little, too late.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the assorted mess that had accumulated over his years in office. His chair, the desk and everything on it was made on the planet, the local materials and styles once being a source of comfort, now seeming more like cruel mocking. The only thing not of this world was the replica of the device hidden safely away in the most secure laboratory they had. The replica, though made from metals extracted from a mine a mere one hundred and twenty kilometres to the west, was mimicking something from beyond the solar system, something which he had fought to get switched on.

“Mayor Heiberg! Mister Mayor!” one of his aides cried, bursting into his office and shattering his introspection. He forced out the words, red faced and gasping. “A ship! A ship has arrived!”

The mayor and his entourage wasted no time in racing out to the hastily constructed spaceport. Most spaceports are little more than wide, flat areas that even the clumsiest of pilots could not miss, but even by these standards, theirs was dull. Siceltown’s last spaceport engineer had died some decades earlier, and the science had to be rediscovered from scratch. And rather quickly, too. This plan of Heiberg’s, ten years in the making, had all come together in the end with the chaos of the southern storms. But it had been accomplished, and none too soon.

“Is that it?” he asked the still breathless aide. “How many people do you think that could hold?” The ship resting towards the edge of the great circular landing area was smaller than he had imagined. In his mind he pictured fleets descending onto the surface, bringing with them thousands of rich tourists and eager traders, ready to revitalise the planet’s economy and return them to the galactic community. This lone, petite vessel was marginally less disappointing than the empty spaceport had been.

“It might hold a dozen, Mister Mayor,” the aide replied, “maybe more. Assuming that they are people, you know, humans. In any case they might be rich,” he added hastily, noting the mayor’s disappointment, “and I am sure they are the first of many.”

“We shall see,” he said as the ship began to cycle its airlock. This was his town’s, his planet’s first impression to the rest of the universe after generations of isolation. He straightened up, smoothing back what remained of his fringe. By the tails, he thought, how his critics would face him after today!

His heart beat faster as the door opened, slacking as a single entity emerged. Human, he noticed, male, apparently in his late twenties or early thirties. He was taller than the mayor, but only slightly, with a wild crop of dark hair that drew the eyes of the welcoming committee. Dark hair was a rarity on this planet, and was never seen on someone with skin so pale. He moved with a confidence and authority that surprised the mayor. Had he been landing on another planet, he doubted his first steps would be so graceful. Trying his best not to let this intimidate him, he approached the visitor with his most genuine forced smile. “Welcome to Siceltown, the largest and only permanent settlement on this planet,” the mayor said, bowing graciously. “I am Mayor Heiberg, representative of our people. We all hope you, our first extrasolar visitor in years, will enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” he replied in a curious accent, appearing amused by the speech.

“Please, allow us to escort you away from the spaceport and into Siceltown. One of my aides can bring your luggage with you.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, “but that wont be necessary. I have no luggage.”

For a moment, Heiberg felt his smile slip. He glanced towards the ship, hoping to see this curious man followed by a crowd of wealthy tourists each laden with luggage, but he appeared to be quite alone. No luggage, no companions. A disappointing first visitor. Resisting the urge to ask if there were anyone else coming, he asked if he were here on business or pleasure. “I’m a tourist,” he replied, his grin broadening. “I doubt any living human has earned that description to quite the level I have.” The mayor smiled and nodded, hoping his confusion wasn’t too obvious.

“Ah, so, I take it you have seen the advertisements we sent out?” he asked after a short but awkward silence.

The visitor nodded. “Yes. Yes, I saw them.”

Clearly expecting more, the mayor pressed. “And so you decided to come visit our quaint world, experience a culture unlike any in the galaxy?”

He snorted. “No, not exactly, though I admit I was intrigued. I’m actually here to ask you a question.”

“C- certainly,” he replied, casting a nervous glance at his aides. This was not how he had imagined this at all. Was this some sort of test? “Ask away.”

The visitor drew a breath. “Your planet has been cut off from contact with the rest of the galaxy for generations, first by circumstances and then by conscious decision, correct?”

The mayor nodded.

“So you have had no involvement in wider galactic politics in that time?”

“That’s right, none whatsoever.”

“And you are a world of no great material wealth or strategic value, hence your decision to bolster you economy with tourism and trade?”

The mayor blinked. “Is that your question?”

“No, I am just verifying a few points first. I already know the answer, I’d just like to be certain.”

“Well, I suppose that is correct,” he replied, “though I must stress the value of our people and customs is worth more to us than -“

“Please. Mister Mayor, I meant no insult to your planet or its people,” he interrupted. “In fact, I think the path you have chosen is admirable. There are other similar examples in history, and they often prove successful.”

“I see,” said the mayor. “So… what is your question?”

“My question, Mister Mayor,” Wilki Jhanden replied, “is this - why does a world with no recent involvement in politics, and no material or strategic wealth, have no fewer than five well armed fleets racing towards it in battle formation?”

***

“Y- you can’t be serious!” the mayor exclaimed, clutching at his nearest aide. All the colour had vanished from his face, his face slackening under the gravity of the situation.

“Quite serious, I’m afraid,” he replied, rummaging through his pockets. “Somehow you have made enemies, bitter ones at that. The firepower assembled against you is enough to… well, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.”

Heiberg laughed, a short, miserable outburst. “Consider myself reassured,” he muttered, waving his aides back. They were well trained and knew his whims, and had been ready to rush to his side. But he didn’t need them today, the scale of the problem was beyond imagining.

“I’m sorry, Mayor, but I will be completely honest with you at all times. I don’t know the designs of these ships, but it hardly matters - in a battle between a fleet and a planet, the planet almost always loses. The fleet can blockade or bombard at their leisure from the safety of distance and darkness. A planet is a big, bright target, sitting in the worst place imaginable - the bottom of a gravity well.” Wilki paused, staring up at the sky. “Unless you can amass a fleet in the meantime, your world is defenceless.”

The mayor’s shoulders slumped, a momentary lack of professionalism that he silently cursed. He could not appear defeated. As leader, he had to be seen as in control. “I can’t accept that,” he said, trying to keep the quiver from his voice, “we must have options. As citizens of the galaxy we must have some rights, some means of protection.”

“Only what you can muster for yourselves,” he replied solemnly. “I don’t know what illusions you have of galactic politics, but if you are hoping for a higher power to interfere in your favour, I suggest you abandon the notion immediately.”

“Then we must acquire allies, and fast,” he said, more to himself than anyone.

“You have nothing to offer anyone capable of fighting for you, and no time to offer it in.”

The mayor glared at him. “Then we must contact those ships immediately. We need to find out what their intentions are, and why they are acting with aggression. After all,” he said after a moment’s thought, “I only have your word about any of this. For all I know, you are some kind of galactic prankster, here to stir us into a frenzy and bleed us of our cash.”

Wilki smiled, a genuine grin crossing his smooth face. “Finally, you are starting to think. I’m afraid the stakes are too high and time too precious for you to do anything short of trust me, at least for now.” He looked the Mayor straight in the eye, making sure he understood. “As for our next move, we need to head to wherever you are broadcasting this advertisement from. On the way, I need to review the ad, see if I can figure out just what is so damned controversial about it.”

***

When Wilki said that he had seen the ad, he hadn’t been entirely truthful. He had been on board the Prideful Fall when the ship had intercepted the signal. It had taken all of the good will he had earned on the voyage to be allowed access to the hyperspace radar to see the rumoured fleets, and nothing short of blackmail to get a shuttle ride to the source of the transmission. So while he had followed the trail left by the ad, he hadn’t actually seen it.

He had underestimated just what this advertisement entailed. It was a simple enough message proclaiming the beauty and wonder of the planet, but embedded in that signal was every piece of data they had. Planetological statistics, meteorological data, history, demographics, suggested activities, notable figures… at just over seven minutes of actual video, it contained enough information to keep him occupied for a lifetime.

There were parts he could rule out as being the problem, at least tentatively. Lawki biases aside, anything older than the planet’s last encounter with the galactic civilisation was not likely to be an issue. That ruled out almost everything physical, even the climate hadn’t changed over the decades. The planet might not have been famous, but it would have been known of, so nothing already known could be the trigger.

That still left enormous volumes of information to be processed. Ignoring all history except the relatively recent events did not trim it down enough. There had been wars and inventions and grand ambitious individuals, a quick skim of which showed nothing worth launching a fleet over.

No problem worthy of attention makes sense at first glance. But, Wilki had to admit, this one seemed ridiculous even by his standards. He could understand an individual acting irrationally, he could even understand a species acting irrationally. But something had spooked five separate organizations with the means to attack a planet into moving against a target of no significance. There was nothing he had seen in either the ad or anywhere on the planet that warranted such aggression, which means whatever it was, it wasn’t obvious. Subtle, and yet provocative.

He sighed, looking up from the datatablet. It was good to be back on a planet, he had to admit - only a large infrastructure could produce such technological novelties, which meant that most space ships largely resembled small pockets of 18th century living, a low tech environment travelling faster than light, defying physics but not economics. Tech gets pricier the further it moves from its point of manufacture, meaning that if it isn’t essential, chances are it wont be found on a passenger ship.

Even though Siceltown had been cut off for generations, the datatablet was of almost identical design to what he had seen elsewhere in the Human Domain. They had done well to maintain that level of high technology infrastructure, given that they were a closed pool of talent, resources and inspiration.

The transportation had not been so lucky in avoiding a technological shift backwards. A single person pod linked externally to the others, it was a design that shouted elegance but had delivered a rough, uncomfortable ride. He imagined this was what riding on horseback felt like, bouncing with each rock and crest encountered. There was also the distinctive tang of chemical combustion. But oddly, this all made him feel more at ease. This was technology whose principles he understood, and having spent so much time on budget passenger ships had adjusted him to the simple life.

Wilki shook his head, cursing himself for the distraction. He forced his eyes to move and his brain to register. He had reread the same section three times now, and was only just registering it. In front of him was the section on the planet’s history, and parts of it weren’t making sense. “Mayor Heiberg,” he said once he had found the pod to pod comms, “I have a few questions about your planet’s history.”

“Oh really?” the radio crackled back. “Well, I’m not expert, but I’ll see what I… hang on, I’ll link my aides into this conversation. Let’s see… okay, go ahead.”

“It’s about the time of your first isolation from the rest of the galaxy,” he replied. “What exactly caused that?”

“Ah, see, there was a war, Wilki, a war between good and evil. We were part of a great empire, the Human Domain, spanning many star systems. That empire was attacked by merciless savages. Naturally we offered what we could, even though the front line was nowhere near us. For generations we sent supplies and soldiers to fight the good fight, as it were. But then the devils drew the fighting closer to us, tails know why. Our fleet held off the brutes above our very skies, and we thank them for it every day, though the final stand cost them everything. In the end both fleets were destroyed, and there was nothing but silence.

“We learned that day to stand on our own, you see, for we had to. Perhaps it was ungracious of us not to attempt to reconnect with our saviours, but then I don’t judge. Our ancestors would have struggled to survive, to maintain order and civilisation…” He paused, just as the passion was seeping into his voice. It was a professional delivery, Jhanden suspected it was not his first. “Why do you ask? This happened generations ago, the brutes were defeated. You don’t think it’s relevant, do you?”

“Can’t say what is or isn’t at this stage,” Wilki said, drumming his fingers on the seat. “Who were these, uh, brutes that were attacking you?”

“I have no idea,” the mayor replied, after a whispered consultation. “There are sketches of the ships used in both sides, you wont find them in the official histories though - it’s of little interest to anyone except academics. Most people find the subject somewhere between unnerving and, well, boring.”

“I would like to see these sketches, Mayor.”

“Of course. I’ll have someone track them down for you. In the meantime, we are approaching the mountain’s peak. The laboratory should be only fifteen minutes away.”

Wilki spent that time reviewing what data was available about that final battle. The information matched the mayor’s description - two great fleets fought, the Domain Navy defended the planet against a much larger invasion force. Both sides were annihilated, not an unlikely outcome in space warfare, though it did mean the defenders weren’t total morons. There were very few descriptions of the ships themselves - what few details were available on both sides could have equally applied to the Domain or any number of passenger ships he had travelled on.

Which meant that he had gotten nowhere. He couldn’t even be sure the battle was relevant in the slightest, and if it was, he couldn’t see how. For most species it was history, a story from a previous generation, and hardly an important one at that. At most a footnote in a textbook, a scenario for academics to play with. Nothing worth killing over.

***

The mountain laboratory was clearly designed with security in mind. While the placement at this altitude shielded them from the worst of the various emissions - em, heat, pollution - from the city below, the array of scannerbots studded in the landscape would have been ineffective in a terrain where people and animals frequented. The expense must have been significant. A worthy investment, to be sure, for only research on this scale could prevent a closed community from sliding backwards into barbarianism. But the investment was unsustainable. One ambitious politician during one bad economic year would scrap the entire project. It was inevitable.

Perhaps the mayor understood this. Maybe the fight against barbarism was the impetus behind this galactic reunion.

His pod was rushed through various security mechanisms whose function he could not guess, as was his person upon exiting the vehicle. This was one field in which their technology had advanced during their isolation, generating unique techniques for protecting their secrets. Not that there was anything odd about that. Wilki’s childhood had involved the occasional visit to factories and laboratories, none without the highest levels of protection available.

Once inside he met up with the mayor. It did not surprise him that his ingress had been much slower than that of a known authority figure, and he seemed to take the opportunity to lord it over him. With a feigned look of impatience, he beckoned Wilki to his side. “Now listen,” he said, adjusting the cloak draped loosely over his clothes, “I am not too proud a man to admit when I need help. That, and that alone, is why you are here. If I find any inconsistencies in your story, if I find you looking at something you shouldn’t, if I so much as suspect you have memorised a lunch menu, you will never see your precious stars again.”

Wilki shrugged. “If my presence bothers you, I can always leave. I have half a mind to, Heiberg, since as it turns out I react badly to threats. And forcibly confining me is the greatest threat you could muster against me. But luckily for you, I care more about the innocent lives you have sworn to protect and much more about solving this riddle than I do about my pride. If I am to solve this, I will need the full cooperation of everyone in this facility. Clear?” He walked off without waiting for an answer.

He smiled to himself. It had been easy to summon that outburst from inside, though truth was he wasn’t angry in the slightest. Politicians, insecure males prefixed with every Greek letter, bored and disappointed him more than anything. The mayor was harmless, so long as he didn’t decide to interfere with his investigation.

“Wilki!” the mayor called out, running up beside him. “My apologies if I offended you. I just wished to emphasise how… sensitive the information I am showing you is. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to introduce you to the head of the team operating the broadcaster.”

“Lead on, Mister Mayor,” he said, savouring the victory, “and don’t worry, I am excellent at keeping secrets.”

The head researcher was fiddling at a screen when the entourage worked in. Somewhere in her fifties, her red hair was streaked with grey, just as her face was streaked with the lines of a life of hard work and stress. Her hawkish eyes were narrowed, peering down a prominent nose at the mess of statistics before her. She flinched at their approach, composing herself as best she could. “Wilki Jhanden, meet Doctor Rosetta, head of the broadcast team.”

“Call me Carmen, please,” she said, taking his hand as she turned back to her work. “I’ve been filled in on the situation, it sounds impossible. But I am told you are something on an expert, and I hate it when people don’t defer to my experience in relevant matters. On those grounds I will listen to what you have to say.”

“That is all I ask, Carmen,” he said, bowing graciously. “I’m afraid my education in science is little more than what I have experienced out there,” he waved his hand upwards, “but I might be able to help. I just need to know how you are broadcasting.”

Carmen looked at the Mayor, continuing only when he nodded his approval. She tapped a few buttons on the screen. “This,” she said, indicating the image there, “is an alien artefact. An advanced one at that - I like to study history, and as far as I can tell the Human Domain never possessed anything like it.

“We found it up here, on one of the mountain ranges. Some geologists in Siceltown noticed something near the peak, an odd reflection. The government sent a team up, and found this. Conveniently close to a research station we already had, this facility, it made sense to move it here for study.”

“So it’s an alien communications device,” Wilki said, thinking. “Was it transmitting? Or receiving?”

“Not as far as we could tell, though if it was before we moved it we could never tell. But we couldn’t pass this up - it modulates pulses in the topology of hyperspace itself. The hypershadow of this device, it’s imprint on the higher dimensions of the universe, is somehow continuously pushing outwards yet never moving.” She smiled, shaking her head. “We understand what it is doing, and yet it is impossible according to science as we know it.”

“Hyperspace communications are nothing new. Every ship has one.”

Rosetta nodded. “But those are crude compared to this. A ship uses standard radio, and uses the hypershadow of the electromagnetic energy to send a signal faster than light. But that is slow, clumsy, prone to interference. Using this, we can send a clean signal anywhere in the galaxy, or broadcast over a wide range close by. We did the latter, of course, encoding our message into the signal.”

Wilki nodded. “This thing broadcasts. Have you ever received a signal on it?”

“No,” Carmen said, shaking her head. “We originally thought we could communicate with the builders, clearly a vastly superior culture. But we haven’t even received anything except noise.”

“So it can receive something,” Wilki muttered to himself. “Carmen, have you considered using this for more than just spamming the galaxy? No? Typical… okay, here’s what you do. I need you to run some calculations, figure out what happens to the signal on impact with a hypershadow. There should be an alteration to the modulation somehow, figure out exactly what. Then set this thing to broadcast on the new signal, in theory it should receive on it too.”

Carmen blinked. “You’re talking about radar. Radar in hyperspace.”

“Give the doc a point,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Can you do it?”

“Y- yes, I believe so,” she said, stunned. “The software is all here, should take no more than a few hours.”

“Excellent. Well, that exhausts all my science expertise. Since a tour of this place seems out of the question, I am going to take a nap. Wake me up if you find anything. Mayor? I think we should let the good doctor get to work.”

***

Several hours later the three of them were huddled around the screen. Doctor Rosetta and Mayor Heiberg stood with their mouths open, Wilki’s was drawn into a tight grimace. “It works,” Carmen said, with no sense of satisfaction.

“You were right, Wilki,” the Mayor added. “Five fleets, heading towards us.”

“Definitely battle formation,” Carmen said.

“It is worse than I thought,” he said. “I thought we had more time. Days, at least. Looks like less than a day until Fleet C arrives.”

The program had labelled the objects as Anomalies A through E. It seemed fitting to keep the letters when relabelling them.

“Huh, that’s odd,” Carmen said, looking closer at the data. “The signal coming off Fleet D just shifted. I think… yes, the software is finding data embedded.”

“They must have thought we were watching the return signal,” Wilki said. “Maybe they have been trying to communicate with us. Maybe they all have.”

“Hold on, I’ve… there, got it. Audio file, translation changing it to readable text.”

Wilki checked the printout, scanning the message.

Translated from Contargen. Accuracy confidence rating, 98%.

This is Admiral (?) <unknown - proper noun (?)> of the Contargen Battle Fleet. Your broadcasts are an insult to our people, a worship of sins (?) of the past. We come to rectify (?) the insult (?). We come to destroy your governance, your authority, your liars.

Message loops.

He blinked before rereading the text. “Their intent is unambiguous, though their meaning is a little confusing,” he said.

“What does it mean?” the mayor asked.

“Contargens,” Carmen whispered, turning white. “Most people have forgotten the name, we just called them ‘the invaders’ or something similar for so long… it was them that the Domain was at war with out in this part of space.”

Wilki nodded. “And so the worship of sins of the past… they don’t like the way you have glorified the Navy’s final stand over the planet. The… contargens were defeated, this is rubbing their nose in it.”

“And for that they want to kill us?” the mayor exclaimed, trembling. “They fought the battle once, now they want to finish the job? All because they think we are insulting them?”

“Alien culture, alien ethics,” Wilki said. “What we see as logical or reasonable, they don’t, and this culture clash as set a battle fleet against you. You are victims of Lawki, Life As We Know It, the tendency of most species to forget that others see the universe differently.”

The Mayor’s outburst against that was cut short by Carmen’s exclamation. “Signal from Fleet C, the closest one… it’s audio as well, I’ll patch it through.”

“Attention wayward colony Siceltown, this is Commander Urikov of the 47th Destroyer Group of the Human Domain Navy. We have been aware of your independence for a while now, and have let you develop in peace. But your recent involvement in anti-Domain propaganda has forced our hand. We will be forcibly annexing this colony, and placing the current civil administration on trail for treason. Any resistance encountered to either of these objectives will be met with swift retaliation.

“Consider this your first and only warning. Message ends.”

The Mayor collapsed to his knees. “Anti… anti-Domain propaganda? What in the galaxy is he talking about? Oh, this isn’t good, not good at all. This is a mistake, we make it clear in the ad, all our history is dedicated to the Domain -“

“Quiet,” Wilki barked. “We will send a message to them before they arrive, explain the situation. Everything will be fine, so long as you don’t lose your head. More than ever, Siceltown needs its mayor.”

Carmen took him and led him away from the distraught mayor. “I am trying to raise both those fleets on the broadcaster,” she whispered in his ear. “They are ignoring our hails.”

“Nothing we can do about that,” he muttered. “Try the other fleets, maybe someone will want to talk to us.” She nodded, returning to the screen. He watched over her shoulder, something that didn’t seem to bother her. Working on politically motivated research, perhaps she was used to it.

“There was no reply from Fleets A or E,” she said a few minutes later. “Fleet B sent something, text only, no need to translate. They want to talk with us in about half an hour.”

“Okay, that’s progress,” he said. “In the meantime, you say you like history. Help me figure out what the charming Commander Urikov meant by anti-Domain propaganda.”

***

Even with three of them, there was too much data for them to hope to achieve anything in half an hour. Indeed, it would have been easier if there had only been two of them. Mayor Heiberg started off as merely unproductive, but as the minutes ticked by his limited leadership skills slid into a nuisance.

“What the hell is taking so long? Don’t you realise what’s at stake?” he bellowed for the third time since they started. He marched away from the desk, only to spin round on them like a spider on captured flies. “If Siceltown falls under my administration, my last act as mayor will be to execute both of you!”

They ignored him, and sure enough his rage dissolved into melancholy quickly enough. He huddled up in the corner, on the verge of hysterical sobbing. All the while, the pair of them were scribbling notes furiously. “I don’t see it,” Wilki muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Hold on,” Carmen replied, moving over to the bench and returning with a hot mug. “Mayor? We will be talking with Fleet B soon.”

“What’s the point?” he said, rubbing his cheeks. “This is unsolvable. Even if we convince one of the fleets to pull back, that in no way helps our chances.” He paused, looking grim. “We need to start looking at evacuation options.”

Carmen recoiled at this, then regained her composure. “Either way, we need a strong leader. You need to be a calm example to the rest of us. Here. Drink this.” He took the mug from her and sipped. “Wha… oh, you…” She checked his pulse as he collapsed into a stupor.

“He’s stable,” she replied, hurrying over to the desk. She noticed the look Wilki was giving her. “It’s a counter for neurostim overdose. It can prevent a neural burnout in a second and a half. On a sober person, well, it isn’t recommended, but it’s not like I had any tranquillisers on hand.”

“Carmen Rosetta, I like your style,” Wilki said with a low whistle. She opened her mouth to reply but fell silent as the screen flickered into life. At first Wilki thought he was staring at bizarre, multicoloured static, but as it shifted he noticed it was the skin of a creature. No, make that creatures. There was a group of them, each thin and angular, looking like oddly shaped flagpoles. They blinked as a group, not simultaneously but it waves that caught the eye.

“Administration of Human Siceltown,” a tinny, artificial voice said. Wilki noticed that as the words came through one of the pole creatures moved what he assumed was a mouth. It was then that he saw what was bugging him about them - unlike the biospheres of Earth, wherever these creatures had evolved from had no symmetry. Bifold symmetry was present in all complex organisms from Earth, and he had seen organic beings with trifold symmetry to creatures that were essentially omnidirectional. But organic beings lacking a simple reflection on at least one axis were thankfully rare. They just looked wrong.

He shook the bias from his head. Now of all times I could not fall prey to the universal trait among sentient species, that the range of what was aesthetic was so narrow it was practically microscopic. “We represent the Free Flowing Bounty and Form Distribution Fleet,” the aliens continued. He couldn’t help but wonder just how much meaning was lost in translation there. “You are charged with negative incitement. We are justice.”

“Forgive us, representatives,” Carmen said, “but we do not understand the charge against us.”

“Negative incitement,” the creature who spoke replied. “You have celebrated negative historical events and continue to do so. You celebrate the negativity outcome of your own race, but your negative treason is not our concern. We seek to justice on you for celebrating negative events against our race.”

“How has no one invented a translator that works?” Wilki muttered. To the screen, he said, “We understand the charge. You say we are… celebrating a past event that was bad for you, and for us.”

“Positive,” they replied in unison. He suppressed a shudder.

“But we do not know the specifics of the charges. Just what event are we celebrating?”

The screen faded to black. “What -?” Carmen started, before images returned. “I… I recognise this. This is the last battle, the Human Domain’s heroic stand in this system. How is that an insult?”

“We fought with the humans,” the translator said. “We fought against the contargens and negatively died. You incite this. You incite our death.”

“Hold on,” Wilki said. “Representatives, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. May I take time to check facts?”

“Positive,” they replied. The screen cut sharply to black. Wilki sat there staring at it, stroking his chin. He nodded, a faint echo of a smile at his lips.

“History is a funny thing,” he said, gazing off into space. “And so are assumptions. Some assumptions are so subtle, and are there for so long… it fits, it fits it all.”

“Wilki,” Carmen said, “what are you talking about.”

“The battles against the contargens. They occurred far from here, correct?”

She nodded. “With that one exception.”

“And exceptional it was,” he replied. “I asked the mayor for sketches of the ships used in that battle. Do you have them?” She nodded, confused, but accessed the datatablet. Two distinct designs showed up, one close to the planet and ones further out. The planetary ships were labelled ‘Human’, the other ‘Contargen’. “These labels are wrong,” he gasped.

“Huh?”

“I wish I had seen this sooner, I’d recognise human engineering anywhere. But you lot wouldn’t, your ancestors I mean, since they had never seen a battle up close. You just assumed the defenders were the Domain Navy, but they weren’t. They were this fleet, the attacking fleet.

“The contargens had taken the system, but for whatever reason didn’t land troops on the surface. Maybe they couldn’t spare them, maybe they didn’t want to damage the infrastructure. Whatever the reason, a big fleet shows up in orbit and doesn’t attack you, you assume it’s friendly. Then another fleet shows up and attacks them, they must be the hostiles. But these far ships, they weren’t invading, they were counterattacking.”

Carmen went white, her eyes widening as the connections were made. “My goodness,” she gasped. “Both fleets were wiped out, no one to come down and correct the misconception. So all this time, we have been… glorifying the enemy. No wonder the Domain is accusing us of treason, and the Fleet B people hate us. But,” she said, thinking, “what about the contargens themselves? Why do they care?”

“The message from them called us liars who worship the sins of the past… well, the liar part makes sense. The sins of the past… I have seen this before. They lost the war, it is an embarrassment to them. In order for them to live peacefully with their neighbours, they have to forget that unfortunate piece of history. The war is over, so they must have been forced into the façade of civility.”

Carmen shook her head. “And blowing us up qualifies as civilised?”

“Alien ethics,” Wilki said. “Doesn’t seem rational, but I’m sure it makes sense to them.”

“I’ll get onto the Domain Navy,” Carmen said, scrambling for the comms. “If we are quick and sincere in explaining the situation, maybe they can negotiate with the other fleets in our favour… oh, and I suppose I should cancel the broadcast.”

“How long will that take?” Wilki asked.

“To turn it off needs mayoral authority and a few hours. But,” she said, grinning, “I can replace the message with static… there, done.”

Wilki collapsed to the floor. It was too soon to relax, he knew. Two of the fleets were still unknown quantities, and there was no guarantee the Domain would be able or even willing to save them. But the mystery was unravelling, and now there was a chance.

Wired as he was, he still probably slept. He had no memory of sleeping, only of waking up. “Wilki,” Carmen said, a genuine smile bringing youth back to her face, “check the radar.” He did, two of the fleet had started pulling back. The Domain Navy was still on course, he noticed, a sense of dread plucking at the base of his stomach.

“Siceltown Governance, this is Commander Urikov. Looks like our friends are willing to give you a pass on this one.”

“Thank you, Commander, we are very grateful for your assistance,” Carmen replied graciously. She didn’t notice that Wilki wasn’t by her side, but was hunched over the mayor. “But I have to ask, do you know anything about the other two fleets?”

“Who am I speaking to?” he asked.

“Doctor Carmen Rosetta. I am something akin to science advisor to the Mayor, who is… currently preoccupied.”

The commander grunted. “Very well. Turning off the broadcaster will probably stop them both.”

“Really?” Carmen exclaimed. “Sir.”

“Indeed. The northernmost fleet is tykyrian. The same race who, we believe, built your broadcaster. They like to spy on, uh, ‘lesser cultures’ which pretty much includes everyone, as far as I can tell. Certainly us humans. I’ve heard rumours of their scoutships, can outclass anything in… well, the reason they are moving against you is your misappropriation of their technology. They want it back. I think I can convince them to let you offer it up willingly.”

“Many thanks, Commander,” Carmen said. “And the other fleet?”

Urikov’s expression turned grim. “There’ll be no negotiating with them. That’s a piranhastorm.”

Wilki looked up, still out of sight from the monitor. “They aren’t sentient,” the commander continued, “for the simple reason they don’t need to be. They are more than capable of taking down a well armed fleet without needing brainpower. Vicious spacefaring bastards. They are tracking you using your broadcaster. Switch it off and they’ll disperse.”

Carmen sighed with relief. “Sounds too easy,” she said, her relaxed expression growing serious. “But what becomes of us now?”

Urikov smiled. “The Domain has giving you great assistance during this crisis, once the misunderstanding was cleared up, which we do not hold against you. In fact, we intend to reintegrate you into the Domain. As of now, you are welcomed back into the fold. My ships will be in your orbit in a few hours, after we sort out this tykyrian situation. I look forward to meeting you in person.”

***

[continued below]

The mayor seemed happy to have slept through the worst of it. It hadn’t taken the two of them long to fill him in, despite his groggy head. He wasn’t mad at them. In fact, he seemed to have the attitude that everything that happened was along some plan of his. No doubt that would be how he would sell it.

“But this is terrible news,” the mayor said. “When I planned to reintroduce Siceltown to the galaxy, it was as a free and independent planet. Instead we are to be annexed. Our freedom was short lived.”

Wilki sat away from the other two, staring at the distant wall. “There’s a way to retain your independence,” he said quietly.

“There is?” the mayor said.

“Urikov seemed pretty keen,” Carmen added.

Wilki nodded. “But the crisis isn’t over, not so long as we have the broadcaster. Take the signal and beam it full strength at the Navy fleet. That will scramble their communications long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“Long enough for the piranhastorm to arrive,” Carmen said slowly, as she began to understand. “The beam will reflect off the ships, strong enough and it will make them glow in their eyes, the piranhastorm will be drawn to them. Then we can switch it off as the Navy is torn to shreds.”

“And they would be,” Wilki said. “No one human fleet could survive that.”

Heiberg was silent for a moment. “Make it happen.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “They wont accept our refusal, but I can’t accept their proposition either. Wipe them out.”

Carmen hesitated, then nodded, getting to work. Wilki gave her distance until the mayor left, then asked if she was okay. “I’m fine,” she said.

Wilki gave her a cynical look. “Can you murder that many soldiers? Including one you have spoken to, have received help from?”

She nodded. “I know what soldiers are like, and I know what the Domain is like. I can’t let those bastards take Siceltown. Now shut up and help me.”

Jhanden smiled and did as he was told. The principle was simple enough, but the technical details were beyond him. It didn’t help that they needed to be precise. Any screw ups would be the end of them.

Within an hour they had it operational. “I’m trying to keep the radar away from the piranhastorm, for now,” she said, “but it looks like only the Domain Navy fleet is still approaching. It is now or never.”

“I see that.”

They turned around to see the mayor standing over their shoulders. “Just give the go ahead,” Wilki said, “and the Domain will bother you no more.” The mayor stared at them, his mind ticking over furiously.

“No,” he said, after an eternity. “No, I can’t do this. I destroy their fleet, another will come, this one with an order to scour the planet.”

“You are blameless,” Jhanden said. “Mister Mayor, these sorts of things happen in the galaxy, no one will suspect you. But this is your last chance - once they are in orbit, they will be too close.”

“I know,” he said, “but I have to do what is right by my people. We will become subjects of the Domain, like we once were.”

Wilki tried not to sigh. Saving the planet, only for it to fall into the hands of the Navy, it made it all seem somehow pointless. “Then let me go.”

Heiberg stood in silence, contemplating the situation. “I should have you arrested, both of you,” he said. He held his datatablet like a weapon, ready to summon the police. “But I wont. Your presence here, Wilki, your involvement in government affairs… if you become a prisoner of the Navy it will raise awkward questions for me. Rosetta, deactivate the broadcaster and erase that program. Wilki, you have five minutes to return to your pod. It will leave for your shuttle with or without you.”

He ran, as he always did. The mayor’s words burned in his brain. He spoke as if all of them were somehow not already prisoners of the Domain, but he didn’t understand. Their tyranny over smaller governments was humanity’s birthright, an ever present spectre. And now this entire world was ready to be absorbed, all its potential for uniqueness, gone.

There was no variety in the Human Domain, there couldn’t be. Their ships and communicators and identical cities were everywhere within that sector. That was why he ran inwards, towards the galactic core, dreaming of a place beyond the cultural contamination of the greatest human government in history. His shuttle would get him part of the way, enough for him to find the next stepping stone, and from there he would resume the journey. But this brush with his own species had shaken him. Wilki needed something new, something strange.

Something alien.

I need to get in the habit of making these stories about 10% smaller. Damn you, word limit! :fist:

This is the fourth Wilki story I've posted here, and I'd like to thank everyone for the nice feedback. I have ideas for more adventures for him, some that put him in rather different situations to what he has faced before. As always, watch this space.