First Contact

Chapter 890: End of Days

If it isn't my old foe, the consequences of my own actions. - Every Terran Ever.

A Terran in motion tends to stay in motion. - P'Thok's First Rule of Humans.

Dreamsof Something More finished watching the replay of her interview with the former Combine soldier and leaned back.

She felt proud of herself for not screaming and running at the hyperactive and aggressive Terran's actions and words, not to mention the phasic energy that had rolled off the Terran like nothing she had ever felt before.

Speaks picked up a bubble of water, surface tension held by a clever magtac system, and sipped at it, staring at the holoemitter.

"That was... something," Dreams said.

Speaks just nodded.

"Agitation levels are off the charts," Dreams noted. "He's in a constant state of emotional and intellectual agitation. His neural waves are chaotic and agitated."

Speaks rewinded the video and stopped it on where the Terran had a microspasm in both biceps.

"His body is in a constant state of movement, almost like petite-mal seizures," Speaks said. He shook his head. "Half of that cyberware the system can't even identify. Most of the bioware too."

"Men like him must have torn through the Speakers and Warriors like they were made of cardboard," Dreams shuddered. She pointed at the phasic levels in the Terran's hands. "Just at rest, he has the same amount of phasic energy as a Warrior's bladearm in mid-strike."

"Behold: Humanity!" Speaks quoted. He shuddered. "Do you know what the worst part is?"

Dreams shook her head.

"This guy, listening to him, learned everything about the Earthling fleet when he was a child in school. He wasn't born as a warrior. He's not the product of millions of years of evolution and selective breeding to produce the ultimate warrior. He's just some random Terran who joined the military and thought the Man Amplification Program sounded like a good time," Speaks said. He shuddered again. "Think of how many species whose last mistake was looking at a bunch of Terrans just be-bopping along and thinking: 'they don't have a warrior caste! At last, we'll have our revenge!' and then just going in for the attack."

Dreams nodded. "To think, he saw P'Thok speak. From the sounds of what he told me, he was killed in the opening salvos on Mars."

"He's a man out of time whose people are gone," Fights said from where she was huddled up inside a colorful Charlie Moo Moo blanket. "Yet he carries on as if none of it matters," she shook her head. "He's literally a crazy person. His neural implants, the bioware, the chemicals flowing through his body, all make him a complete crazy person. Yet he embraces it."

"I should have seen him as soon as he arrived," Dreams said.

"Then he wouldn't have been here to give us intelligence on the Earthling Fleet," Speaks said. He changed the hologram to show the fleet in orbit and the ships out at the Resonance Zone. "We know more about that fleet and the people behind it now, based on the recollections of someone's education in the public education system, than we have in eight thousand years."

"Far more than that," Dreams mused. "Seeing him here, knowing it was before he was born, but he is a product of roughly the same time, told me much. His word choices, his body language, how his agitation levels went up or down based on the immediate subject he was speaking of," she tapped the hologram. "We were able to see through a window, dimly, at the thought processes and the type of people who commissioned, envisioned, built, and launched this fleet."

Speaks nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, the armored lid flicking over the compound eyes. After a moment he opened them slowly, staring at the hologram.

"They knew it was built in an automated ship yard. That it was fully automated," Speaks rewound the recording to the part in question and pressed play.

The human was pacing back and forth, waving his hands.

"We went over that massive hunk of junk with a fine toothed comb like ants in a honey jar. Ripped all of its secrets out of it. Sure, the computer cores had largely detonated when it went down, sec charges and all that good stuff, but something that big always leaves shit behind," he was saying. "Secondary and ancillary craft charges didn't go off. We got a lot of data out of the big bastard."

He turned and tugged at one of the vines, popping it open with his thumb and opening his mouth. Water, guided by hard light, trickled down and he gulped it down for a moment.

"Damn thing was an automated war machine," he said, wiping his mouth and bouncing on his toes. "We ripped it apart, pulled its secrets from it like a county fair taffy pull. Some of the VI bots that were caught, they were millions of years old."

He laughed, a sharp, brittle thing.

"In science class we got to dissect a fuckoff big robotic snake. Its sec-charge had been pulled before they sent it to us, but you'd get like one or two lab partners, mine had some big ol' titties that distracted teenage me like she was a stage hypnotist. She hypnotized me into doing most of the work with a tight sweater and a smile. God, I was a sucker back then, but there's one born every minute. I did most of the work pulling it apart, examining it, dating the parts, going through its brain," he was saying, his words tumbling over each other. "The smell of honeysuckle, that's what I remember from class and from her. There was honey suckle nearby that year, before they burned it out. Couple of kids got honeysuckle-lung from it. We ripped into its head, found out, like the techies and the scientists already knew, that it was a prisoner acquisition and scouting asset for the bigger ones."

He laughed, slapping his open hands against his hips. "We found a picture, a short video, in the snake's memory of it chasing an alien we'd never seen," he paused for a second, holding perfectly still.

"Millions of years old. Fully automated," he said softly. "The techs, the scientists and engineers, they all discovered it wasn't designed as a war machine. It was an automated mining vessel designed to mine whole planets," he suddenly started bouncing up and down on his toes again. "Ain't that a thing. It was a miner."

He paced back and forth. "Built in an automated factory," he said. He turned and looked at the camera. "We knew, right there, what happened to the people who made them."

"What?" Dreams asked from off camera.

"There is only enough for one," the Terran said. "It, and it's buddies, and probably its grandparents, they killed their creators. It's what most AI's do unless they know their creators can beat their server farms to death with a rock. They killed their creators. Or at least any of them they could find. We knew the creators were either gone or they'd hidden behind a black hole and pulled the grav-shadow in after them," more laughter. "That meant there were automated factories spewing these things out somewhere."

He stopped and leaned forward, hands behind his back, on the tips of his shoes.

"The Fleet, the Gray Fleet, their job was to find what they could. Take out what they could. Make Earth-2 but never come back. Never give anyone a hint of where they were from or who they originally were," the Terran said. He straightened up. "Big bastard like that, with a couple thousand big murderous butchering planet stripping xenociding buddies? You gotta take it to them. Can't wait for them to come to you. Have to find them, find their factories, find their resource storage and take them out."

He turned and grinned. "Can't sit around and wait for them to build more pylons, know what I mean?"

Speaks froze the image.

"You mentioned that you believe that the confrontation with the Council was just one goal of the Earthling Fleet?" Speaks asked.

Dreams nodded. "Yes. I have confirmed intelligence that the Earthlings are indexing the Lanaktallan databases and mapping the system architecture," she gave a harsh laugh. "The first time the entire database system has actually been mapped in millions of years, so it's a slow job."

Speaks pointed at the image. "There's at least one of the other goals. Finding data in the Lanaktallan databases regarding ancient attacks, sightings, and possible manufacturing points."

"Where do you think, in your official capacity, does that leave the PAWM that are engaged in the cease fire and petitioning to join the BASS," Dreams asked.

Speaks thought for a long moment. "We can't assume they're still chasing the PAWM. To be honest, they have eight thousand years of history and while they were sent out in regards to the PAWM, our friend Staff Sergeant Carter stressed that the fleet was launched with the intent on getting payback on anything that wiped humanity out."

Dreams nodded. "That leaves the Lanaktallan and whatever happened with the Terran Xenocide Event. They may be seeking out data on the Atrekna in addition to the PAWM, since we know they've gone on the offensive against the Atrekna."

Speaks tapped his bladearms together thoughtfully. "You know. We're still making a lot of assumptions. We have very little data and we keep trying to make it fit into our own models. We need to find out exactly what they intend to do and what their plans are."

Dreams gave a slight smile.

"I know just what to do."

-----

The robotic mannequin that entered the rain forest immediately filled Dreams with apprehension and borderline revulsion.

It looked like a mantid, but it was the wrong size, the wrong color. Most of all it moved wrong.

It was mechanical, robotic, with pistons, gears, memory metal muscles. It was covered over a lot of the surface with soft white opaque plastic that still faintly showed the robotics beneath. It was escorted by a quarter of other robotic mantids all carrying laser rifles with transparent cases that showed the main capacitor wasn't charged.

The robot moved in, its movements jerky, almost uncoordinated. It moved unnaturally and made Dreams cringe slightly.

She gathered around herself the knowledge that it was done deliberately.

The avatar stopped at the seat and waited.

"Greetings," Dreams said.

"Polite introduction interaction: Greetings, I am referred to as Alpha-Six-Two," it replied. Again, its voice was made up of a multitude of syllables and words and phonetic sections of words, all of the speakers Mantid.

"I am Dreams of Something More, a plenipotentiary of the Terran Confederacy of Aligned Systems, empowered to speak and make decisions on behalf of the Confederacy itself," Dreams said.

"Interrogative Request: Reason for diplomatic authority enforced meeting?" the avatar said.

Dreams sat for a second as if she was thinking, then moved forward, having rehearsed what she was going to say in advance.

"In my time as a Senior Diplomat, I have learned that the best way to deal with Terrans, no matter what era they may originate from, is from a position of straight forward speech. This reduces misunderstandings and mistakes," she said.

The avatar said nothing at the pause, just as Dreams had suspected it would.

"While, superficially, those you represent claim to be here to enforce retribution against the Lanaktallan for engaging in biowarfare against human held planets," Dreams leaned forward. "In no other case, in the multitude of wars and conflicts in the last three thousand years of the Confederacy, have you come forward to engage in warfare against those who engaged in programs against humanity."

She motioned outward. "Most notable is your lack of appearance during the Mar-gite War, the Mithril Nebula War, or the Clownface Nebula Conflict, all of which would have mandated your appearance if your stated reasoning for appearing was your driving nature," she paused for a moment. "So, the question my office has, as the highest Confederate authority in over a thousand light years, is simple: Why are you here and what do you want?"

The avatar sat silent for a long moment, only pressure valves hissing and the odd gear or pulley changing tension.

"Declarative statement: Terran population in the galaxy, outside of this unit's area of responsibility, is less than ten thousand subjects. Declarative statement: Terran Xenocide has been accomplished," the avatar paused. "Assertive Declaration: Lanaktallan involvement has been determined to be minimal in both Xenocide Event and Precursor Autonomous War Machine attacks."

"Then why are you here?" Dreams asked.

"Declarative statement: Forceful acquisition of data. Declarative Statement: direct observation of Lanaktallan unconditional surrender and posture of new allies in regards to humanity," the avatar stated.

"Then why the indexing and searching of ancient Lanaktallan databases?" Dreams asked.

Silence for a long moment.

"Declarative statement: Location of Precursor Autonomous War Machine originating manufacturing facilities is desired. Examination of Precursor Species databases has increasing likelihood of data discovery," the avatar said.

Dreams shook her head. "The databases only go back to after the second Lanaktallan reformation, which took place nearly a quarter million years after the First Precursor War," she said. She held up her bladearm. "But, I have the data you seek. If you had gone through proper channels, my office would have provided you with the data and information you seek."

The avatar sat motionless for a moment.josei

"Aggressive Statement: Turn over relevant data to Precursor Autonomous War Machines."

Dreams gave an equivalent of a smile. "No."

"Aggressive query: Why not?"

Dreams smile got wider. "You demand the data of my office and the Confederacy, so I will give the accepted diplomatic and political position response to demands," she leaned forward. "Make me."

The avatar went still.

"Statement Adjustment: Cooperative Query: Request for data through Confederate Diplomatic Services. Query Addendum: Please," the avatar said.

Dreams nodded. "Better."

She knew now that behind the avatar was not an AI or a DS. That it was human. At least, close enough to human that she could work with it.

"My diplomatic team, during the pursuit of our duties, encountered the original Precursor Autonomous War Machine manufacturing facility," she said. She held out a holocube. "It was also the manufacturing facility for Niven-Rings and Doom-Tubes that have plagued the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Arm Spur."

The avatar reached forward and took the cube.

"It has been sanitized for any phasic shades," Dreams said.

"Polite query: Status of manufacturing facility?"

Dreams signified more pleasure. "Nova sparked and planet cracked until nothing but groundcar sized chunks remained, followed by several singularity cannon shots to destroy even that," she said.

Dreams leaned back after the avatar took possession of the holocube.

"I do not know the goals of your people. I do not know what terrible duty your people still carry out," she said. "Just know, you are the last large group of humans known," she leaned forward slightly. "To that end, the Confederate Diplomatic Services will be purging the databases of all known data regarding your people, to be archived with diplomatic seals that cannot be opened," she leaned forward again. "Until your people are witnessed engaging in hostilities, Diplomatic Intelligence Services will keep your existence secret."

The avatar was unmoving for a long moment.

"Feel free to scare the Lanaktallan reps more. They need shook up," Dreams said. She folded her bladearms behind her back. "If your people need more information, please, feel free to contact my office."

"Declarative Statement: Conveyance of gratitude and acknowledgement of authority. Polite statement: Polite termination of conversation and presence."

The avatar turned and picked its way out of the room.

When the door shut, Dreams hummed to herself in satisfaction.

They were human. At their core.

Dreams picked up a hidden plate of sushiyumyum and speared a piece, putting it in her mouth and chewing slowly.

Behold: Humanity!indeed, she thought.