First Contact

Chapter 490

Chapter 490

The day was warm, with a light breeze that moved across the plains making the grain fields wave slowly. Not that there was the driving need to grow grain there had once been. A simple home nutriforge could keep a family fed with a dizzying array of foodstuffs that were identical to 'grown' food right down to the molecular level. Still, some things, the beings of the Terran Confederacy felt were better if they were 'real' and 'non-forged.'

Smokey Cone and the Treana'ad believed that grain and milk, sugar and salt, and everything else that went into the wide array of ice cream flavors, was better if it was 'naturally grown and/or collected' rather than just forged up.

Some of the more esoteric and expensive ice creams even bragged such things as "Genuine Soft Handed Terran Milkmaids" or "Genuine Salt Mined by Pickaxe" and "Strawberries Grown Under the Light of a Yellow Sun" for their premium taste and expense.

The cattle in the fields, most of which were direct bloodline to the cattle taken by the legendary P'Thok in the Great Moo-Moo Raid almost nine thousand years ago, were lavishly pampered to a degree that bordered on outrageous. Petted, brushed, combed, hand fed, they were pampered out of the belief that an uncomfortable moo-moo would produce sour milk.

The Cattle Queen watching over the moo-moo's as they were being brushed and pampered was ostentatious in her lavish outfit. Her dress was styled off of ancient Terran West Cattler style, with plenty of frills and lace, with a bustle that completely covered her abdomen and hid her legs beneath it's impressive size. Napping on the soft cloth of the bustle, basking in the sun, were a half dozen hatchlings smaller than a human's hand.

Her bonnet was ornate, hand embroidered, shading her eyes and antenna from the warming rays of the large red sun.

She even had a hand tooled leather pistol belt around her thorax/abdomen junction, complete with bullets and an ivory gripped pistol in the proper places.

T'Nok knew it was all to show off her power and wealth, not only to any passerby's but to the moo-moo's themselves, to let them feel calm and protected by her wealth and power.

He nervously cleaned his antenna as he moved up, guarded on either side by Rigellian females dressed in chaps, boots, and leather vests with moo-moo tender hats. They too had leather gunbelts, only where the Matron wore one, they wore two crossed, with heavy pistols riding in the holsters. The spurs on their leather boots (hand tooled, real leather, of course) chimed softly as they walked.

The Cattle Queen Wi'Luki ignored T'Nok at first, reaching out to slowly pet the long nose of one of her moo-moo's that came over to the fence. The moo-moo quivered with delight as the bladearm gently brushed down from the moo-moo's eyes to the wet nose.

After a moment it made the low sound they were famous for and ran off.

"Honored T'Nok," the Cattle Queen said, her voice almost lost in the sound of the wind. "My congratulations on your elevation to Citizenship."

"I thank you, Matron," T'Nok said.

"I was surprised to see your request to meet with me. I had thought you were quite busy at this time," Wi'Luki said slowly, her affected drawl soft and pleasant to T'Nok's ears.

"I have taken some time off due to personal reasons," T'Nok said.

"The Terran," Wi'Luki said. It was not a question.

"My brother, yes," T'Nok said. The Matron turned and raised one antenna. T'Nok nodded. "When I attended the University of Lumbering Meat Beasts Crossing Water in Bongistan, I was inducted into an ancient brotherhood that extends to before the Glassing. To be a member of this brotherhood, I attended ceremonies where I swore solemn oaths before our Elders, to the Confederacy, to guard the living against the Cyber-Queen's undying rage, to the fraternity, and to my brothers, as they swore oaths to me."

Wi'Luki nodded, turning to gaze back at the field.

"Those oaths were not mere words, Matron," T'Nok said. "They carry the weight of all Treana'ad who come before me and will come after, just as my actions reflect upon all Treana'ad who enter the brotherhood."

Wi'Luki just nodded, bringing out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. She eschewed the use of power-smokers, being a traditionalist, the harsh cigarettes filterless and hand rolled. She could smell the male's stress, his concern, his anxiety. She handed him a cigarette as she puffed smoke from around her footpads.

"I will not turn away a brother who is in need," T'Nok said.

Wi'Luki nodded, puffing smoke rings out around her ankles. "I understand, T'Nok," she said. She waved at the fields. "Thirty-one out of two thousand of my milk maids survived to be put into medical stasis. I did so, not out of greed or branding, but out of my own obligations to their familial loyalty."

T'Nok felt himself relax slightly, the Matron's words and the nicotine doing their work.

"Your hatcheries and grub chambers have ensured that my little ones grow up strong, curious, and intelligent," Matron Wi'Luki said. "Their first breaths of air have the heady mix of moo-moo's in it, the crystals sparkle and demand attention, and the aesthetics are beyond compare."

"I thank you," T'Nok stated, flushing slightly at the praise.

"And while you have always been paid handsomely for your work, you have never attempted to leverage your skills into more than a humble chamber architect," Wi'Luki said. She turned slightly and looked at T'Nok. "Which made your petition to speak with me to request a favor all the more interesting."

T'Nok rubbed his vestigial wings together slightly in anxiety and took another long drag off the cigarette. The Matron turned and looked back over the field.

"My maternal ancestor accompanied P'Thok on his legendary moo-moo raid," Matron Wi'Luki mused, her voice soft and far away. "The other matrons said she was crazy, that it would result in the Terrans catching her, roasting her over a fire, and devouring her with butter and creme sauce."

Another moo-moo had come up and Matron Wi'Luki gently petted its nose with her bladearm.

"The warrior caste's greatest accomplishments have been outside of battle since the Hatching of P'Thok," she said, her voice almost dreamy. "P'Thok set us free in a way that not even the fiercest warrior could have ever accomplished with all the weapons in the universe."

T'Nok didn't answer, just stood silently. He knew better than to interrupt a reminiscing matron.

"You come seeking a favor," the Matron said after a long moment of silence, broken only by the contented noises of the moo-moos.

"I do, Matron," T'Nok admitted.

"Let me hear your favor, Honored T'Nok, and I will decide if it is worthy of my attention," she said.

T'Nok explained quickly, succinctly.

They stood there silent for a long while.

"You do this, you ask this, not for yourself, but for your brother," the Matron said. She withdrew another pair of cigarettes, lighting them both and handing T'Nok one. "The honor involved is thick and heady indeed. What you ask will cause some consternation among the other Matrons, among the other Cattle Queens, but I will be the one to grant you this favor."

"I thank you, Matron," T'Nok said.

"That your brother came here, to Smokey Cone, is still somewhat of an amazement to me upon hearing your plea," The Matron said.

"A worker caste, who was educated in Terran Archeology, was present at the location my brother was speaking at when the Great Die Off occurred. The worker, despite his nervousness regarding being in the presence of a Pre-Glassing Terran for the time it would take to return, gave my brother transportation back to Smokey Cone," T'Nok explained. "The worker had mentioned me several times regarding my work with crystals and my brother felt I could give him shelter during this terrible time for his people."

"The worker was brave indeed. I would quail at being in a space vessel with a Terran in a Pre-Glassing body," the Matron said. "Leave his name with my assistant, I shall have him greatly rewarded."

"Thank you, Matron," T'Nok said.

The Matron petted another moo-moo that came up and the two Treana'ad were silent for a long while, the breeze rippling the Matron's dress and bustle.

"The queue is long, a three month wait period, but I agree with you that I should use my position and power to move ahead of the line. I will petition the Grand Matrons myself, this evening, and let you know quickly if I am able to grant this favor," the Cattle Queen said, resting one hand on the butt of her pistol. "You have asked me this favor, and bound my own honor to your own."

"My apologies for that, Matron," T'Nok said, feeling slightly nervous.

"Should I succeed in granting your favor, for the reasons you stated, then my honor shall grow. It is a risk worth taking. No Cattle Queen worth her salt lick succeeds without engaging in risk," the Matron said. She turned and looked at T'Nok. "However, I wish a favor."

"As you require, Matron," T'Nok said.

"My eldest daughter is comely and wealthy and powerful," the Matron began. T'Nok listened to her return favor and felt a slight bit of anxiety at it.

"I will grant this favor in return," T'Nok said.

"Excellent," the Matron turned back to staring at her moo-moos. "Bring high quality ice cream, cherry flavored powersmoker juice, and a good hat."

"I will, Matron," T'Nok said.

"Be well, Honored Crafter T'Nok," the Matron said.

T'Nok knew when he was being dismissed.

He walked back to the hoverlimo, escorted by the Rigellian females.

All of it was risky.

But they were brothers, and that made it all worth it.

---------

T'Nok watched as Samma-Jam came in and sat down. T'Nok could see the shadows clinging to Sam, see how heavy his limbs were with grief and emotional exhaustion. Sam popped the top on a soft drink, a root beer float creme soda, drank a third of it in one long swallow, and leaned back on the couch, trying to project an air of nonchalance.

It didn't fool T'Nok.

"Anything good on the Tri-Vee?" he asked, picking up the remote.

T'Nok suppressed an equivalent of a grin. "I got something better."

Sam turned and looked at the big Treana'ad. "Really?"

T'Nok held up a little box made of cardboard with hearts on the sides and top. "I called in a favor and got you something."

The box wiggled and made little noises.

"What's in it?" Sam asked.

"Open it and see," T'Nok said, handing the quivering box to his frat brother.

"Um, OK," Sam said.

T'Nok watched as the human put the box on his lap and slowly opened the top, unfolding the cardboard as if it would snap and shower them both with shrapnel.

"Oh..." Sam said. His eyes welled with tears. He reached into the box. "Oh. Oh..."

T'Nok could feel the cascading tempest of emotions rushing through his frat brother as the Terran slowly withdrew the contents of the box from inside, lifting it up in front of his face to look at it.

A little red tongue flickered out and started licking Sam's face as the little legs flailed like it was running and the tail whipped back and forth excitedly.

With a low cry Sam held the creature close, bending forward slightly and beginning to cry.

T'Nok had been warned that Sam might react in such a way by the spirit healer, who had told T'Nok that humans needed intense outpourings of emotions to process the kind of things Sam had gone through.

The puppy in Sam's hands, held against his chest, wiggled and licked as the BobCo Instant Delivery box fell to the floor unnoticed.

T'Nok patted his brother's back gently.

He is beginning to heal. I have used my favors as I should, to help those in need, as I swore before the statue of Francis of the Bacon, who burned those who spread ignorance with his flamethrower and strode the land in his steam powered war-suit delivering the scientific method to all who needed it, T'Nok thought as he sat next to his grieving brother. I hope the Terran Titans of Science help me heal my brother.

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

MANTID FREE WORLDS

afterwards we'll check to see how many are left.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

>TREA HAS ENTERED THE CHAT ROOM

RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT

Hey, how are things?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Different.

>looks around

Huh, Leebaw and Telkan aren't back yet?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM CONSENSUS

No, not yet. Their gestalts are still active, so they're reasonably OK.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Well, I got some good news. Well, not good news, but news.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

I'll take any news you want to hand out.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

We've got a few Terran refugees. Only about twenty.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

That's a lot, right now. We've got like 4.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Well, you know that they've had it rough. Lots of Sun & Moon Sickness, stuff like that.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

Sun & Moon Sickness?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

Clinical depression, dear. Our brother can be a bit poetic at times.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

Oh. OK.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Anyway, some of the Cattle Queens have

HESSTLA CYBERBURROW

Cattle Queens?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

Our society is matron based since up till around 8,000 years ago most males didn't live past 25 years old before getting their head eaten. Cattle Queens own huge tracts of land to raise moo-moos.

TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS

moo-moos?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

Cows. From Earth.

Can I finish here?

Anyway...

The Cattle Queens used their not inconsiderable power and wealth to jump the line for the BobCo merch store. Normally it's a 3-6 month waiting list for goodboys and purrboys, the real ones, and everyone wants one.

One of the Cattle Queens mentioned that, historically, humans bonded with those animals before they even domesticated moo-moos or began planting grain.

So convinced and browbeat the other Cattle Queens and Grand Matrons to use their power and position to jump the queue and acquire goodboys and purrboys for the humans on Smokey Cone.

The videos of those Terrans being reunited with a friend they've missed so fiercely and never known is almost embarrassing to watch.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

It helps them?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Yes. The emotional outburst at first might be startling, but remember, humans need to express their emotions at times.

Give them to the Terrans in private to protect their dignity.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TNVARU GRIPPING HANDS

We've got a few humans where we are.

We'll give it a try.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

PUBVIAN DOMINION

>sighs

I guess I'm going to have to allow BobCo to install another advanced L-Gate before you guys get mad.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

These are strange days indeed.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---