Tales From the Terran Republic

Chapter 267: An Uncomfortable Feast Part Two

Chapter 267: An Uncomfortable Feast Part Two

Karashel inhaled deeply and sighed happily.

“It is a lovely day,” she bubbled, “Isn’t it nice to just sit out here in the fresh air and enjoy it?”

Veeka didn’t say anything. She just grimly ate her stew.

“You really aren’t going to say or ask anything?” Karashel giggled.

“I really don’t have anything to say,” Veeka replied, “I simply…”

“Simply risked snipers, looters, and Creators knows what else to gain access to the upper floors of a structurally unsound structure, in some very nice camouflage, and wearing a very nice scanner just to check out our little food court?”

Veeka did not reply.

“Oh, don’t be that way,” Karashel giggled, “We are all fellow councilors, colleagues, servants of the Federation. If we can’t be honest with each other, who can we be honest with?”

Councilor Longpaw burst out into trademark Loo giggles.

“Okay, fine,” Karashel said smoothly, “We are probably a confusing lot to you colonizers. Allow me to explain. Yes, there are some very real divisions in our party extending even to those sitting at this table. Of all of my (giggle) trusted co-conspirators, only one shares my vision of post-scarcity, and even they are reluctant to follow me entirely.”

“Hey,” Councilor Longpaw said, “We haven’t said no. We are just saying not yet. Honestly, Kara, what you propose is nothing short of insanity. Even if I was completely on board, which I’m not, there is no way in the Void itself that my people will go for it until we know for a fact that it’s worth it… and won’t come crashing down onto your slimy heads.”

“And that is my supporter!” Karashel exclaimed with a gooey laugh. “As far as the others go, I have a greedy little wiggle, a sellout, and a fucking monster.”

Veeka desperately tried to not appear interested.

“The Rill are just milking their customers for all that they are worth and turning into colonizers themselves,” Karashel said disapprovingly.

“You claim such knowledge concerning history, and you are surprised?” Rillrillrillrill snickered. “Thanks for the payday, fool. Don’t worry. We shall be kind and generous to our colonies in keeping with the (click) noble ideals of our party.”

“Heh,” Karashel snickered. “And the ‘noble’ Yuii…”

Karashel scoffed.

“They are days away from announcing a ‘new partnership’ with their former masters. They waited a whole week before offering to renegotiate the whole goddamn thing! They used my beautiful contract only as leverage!”

“And a much more stable and sustainable arrangement,” Councilor Maypawk rumbled. “Revolution is all well and good, Karashel, but your utopian dreams come at a cost that we simply refuse to pay… or inflict. The Federation is flawed and deeply so, but it isn’t evil incarnate. One’s fate within it can be quite pleasant and stable, as the good Councilor Veeka is already aware. Well, at least for now.”

He paused as he tossed a small roast fowl into his enormous mouth.

“We still believe in the principles of the party… in (heh) principle. However, sudden and precipitous change is rarely for the better, and we believe counterproductive in the very important short term. I’ve also studied history, Veeka, even if my conclusions differ from our good chairslug.”

“Pretty words from a pretty sellout,” Karashel snickered. “Only the Loo are holding fast to what I thought was our shared vision… almost…”

“Within reason, of course,” Councilor Longpaw replied as he sipped a tiny glass of wine. “Then again, we are in much the same position, both ideologically and spatially. We don’t have the luxury of position like some of our more complacent friends.”

Veeka had to restrain herself from asking what he meant.

“And, of course, you already know about our ‘friend’ the Besl,” Karashel said with a less than pleasant tone. “They are doing an excellent job of proving Caw correct.”

“Fuck them,” Laek~Vet snarled. “They are getting what they deserve, no more and no less.”

“You see what I’m dealing with?” Karashel asked with a disappointed sigh. “Of course, we all have our supporters within the greater party as well, each group subscribing to one of our respective stances and multiple variations of the theme. It’s far from what I had envisioned, to be perfectly honest.”

She paused to sip some more sre water.

“In the end, it looks like the Baleel will have to pursue our real goals alone. Hopefully, the Loo agree to full commitment in time, but that remains to be seen.”

“Commitment is the right word,” Councilor Longpaw giggled, “because your plan qualifies you for the mental ward.”

The table broke out into chuckles, clicks, and giggles, Karashel included.

“Yeah, it is pretty crazy,” Karashel bubbled, “But insane circumstances sometimes require insane solutions.”

“Okay,” Veeka sighed, “I give up. What the Void are you talking about?”

As Karashel’s eyes shone with victory, the Novux councilor walked up to the table.

“Prosperity, Equality, and Freedom!” he proclaimed as he clicked his heels together and extended his right arm stiffly outward, fingers outstretched, in a Nazi salute causing Veeka to choke on her stew.

The table broke out into each species’ version of laughter.

“Oh, Veeka,” the Novux laughed, “You should see your face!”

“That’s a good one, colonizer,” Karashel bubbled. “I might actually use that!”

“Feel free, traitor,” the Novux clucked as he set a disposable plastic cup on the table and helped himself to one of the bottles of Councilor Maypawk’s finest.

He raised it to his beak and expertly sucked some up with his tongue.

“Councilor,” he trilled, “excellent as always. If you would just agree to an export agreement, you would become a very wealthy, excuse me, wealthier dump truck.”

Councilor Maypawk rumbled happily.

“I am honored that one of your renowned tastes finds my meager pressings acceptable,” he chuckled, “Unfortunately, my vineyard is small, and most of my yearly production is already spoken for. However, there are some larger winemakers on my world who would almost certainly welcome visitors from your people.”

“It just so happens that my sister operates a small import business,” the Novux trilled, “If you would be so kind as to provide me with their contact information, I will happily pass it along!”

“Of course,” Councilor Maypawk replied, raising his tankard filled with the same potent beverage.

Karashel’s eyestalks stretched and bent to look around the Novux.

“Helkie!” she exclaimed, “You didn’t have to do that!”

Veeka turned to see Novux blues pushing hovercart after hovercart laden with premium fresh produce, thousands of credits worth, into the park.

“I have it upon good authority that some of my people are taking undue advantage of your generosity,” Councilor Helkkakarreai trilled, “and I won’t have it said that the Novux are freeloaders. The Novux always pay their way, Kara.”

He slurped more wine and clucked.

“Besides, our embassy’s vertical farms were only operating at twenty-five percent. It’s actually not good for them to be so lightly loaded. We just had no need for more food. The only things that product actually costs us are water, energy, and a minute amount of minerals. There are people going hungry in our Federation’s capital, and we have the means to produce literal tons of food. If we didn’t put forth the effort of flipping a few switches for the good of our fellow citizens, we would prove you right, something I simply will not abide.”

He clucked with amusement.

“You common folk are likely more in tune with the rabble than we are, so I trust you will ensure that this waste will be properly disposed of before it spoils.”

“You’re a decent egg, Helkie,” Karashel giggled, “But don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret.”

“See that you do,” the Novux clucked, “I would hate for our reputation to be tarnished.”

Veeka tried to keep her jaw from dropping as the hover carts continued to be brought in. That was a lot of food, and quite expensive food at that. The Novux were just handing over tons of fresh organic produce, likely mineral-enriched!

“We can deliver a similar amount about twice a week,” the Novux councilor said with just a touch of pride. “or we can break it up into smaller daily deliveries if that would be more convenient.”

“I’ll talk to our people and have them get in touch with your people,” Karashel smiled. “This will feed a lot of people, Helkie.”

“It’s of no concern of mine,” the Novux shrugged, “I’m just tossing out the garbage. I understand you peons enjoy picking through rich people’s rubbish, so I thought I would just dump it here and save you lowlies the trip.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Rillrillrillrill buzzed, “Just for that, we’ll put your people against the wall second when the revolution comes.”

“I look forward to it, vermin,” the Novux clucked, “I would love the opportunity to teach you miserable seed flickers your place.”

Rillrillrillrill clicked happily.

“I like you,” she buzzed, “I think we’ll kill you last.”

“Speaking of killing,” the Novux said as he produced five ultra-thin tablets and set them in front of Karashel and her associates. “I think you will find our proposal intriguing and our prices quite attractive.”

“We’ve been over this, Helkie,” Karashel bubble-laughed, “We don’t agree on much, but I think we are all still not a fan of your ‘turnkey services’ and your terms and conditions. I’m not freeing my people only to let you turn them into free labor.”

“If you would actually read what I gave you,” the Novux councilor chirped, “You would realize that I am not offering your party members our traditional agreement.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, for those of you who don’t have the intelligence to comprehend the advantages of our wonderfully advantageous trade agreements, we have… Oh, hello there!”

The Novux looked down and clicked his beak in a smile at a tiny chocolate brown “puffball” that was looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

“Do you want something?” he clucked gently as he knelt and reached in his pocket, producing a single bright red dgaggu berry the size of a golf ball.

The little puffball started bouncing up and down rapidly, making an excited squeak as it extended two tiny arms so fuzzy they looked like little flippers.

The little creature grabbed the berry and crinkled its eyes.

“’nk you!” it squeaked and bounced off.

The Novux clucked happily as it departed.

Veeka’s jaw dropped. Organic produce was one thing, but dgaggu berries of any size were expensive. One of that quality and size was easily worth a hundred credits!

“What?” the Novux asked when he saw Veeka’s expression. “The little mote loves them, and they don’t cost me anything. That came from my personal auto-garden.”

He made a dismissive flicking gesture with his fingers.

“There are better ways to grow food than casting seeds on the ground like primitives.”

“You can’t stand being a decent being for even a second, can you?” Maypawk rumbled with a hitching chuckle.

“Excuse me,” Veeka interjected, “What was that?”

“The void mote?” The Novux asked.

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“Really?” Rillrillrillrill buzzed, “Oh, you always travel in a private cabin complete with servants, don’t you?”

Veeka bristled as everyone, including the Novux, laughed at her.

It especially stung because it was true.

“That’s not entirely fair,” the Novux clucked, “you never were a spacer, and your ships rarely leave your own little corner of your sector.”

“All spacers know of the poofles,” Longpaw chittered.

“We call them the fuzzbits,” Rillrillrillrill said.

“They go by many names,” the Novux said. “The Xvli call them dust bunnies. The humans call them tribbles for some reason. Just about every species has their own name for them. If you ask them what they are, they will tell you your people’s name for them. If they have their own name, they don’t share it. They are weird that way.”

“Are they a Federation species?”

“Not really. They are all over Federation space, but they are also spread throughout the Republic, the Empire, almost all of independent space, and most likely even further than that. As far as where they all came from, nobody knows, and they aren’t telling. If you ask them where they are from, they will tell you the places they have visited. And if you ask them where they were born, they will tell you some system or another, almost all of them are ones you’ve already heard of but not always.”

“Yeah,” Longpaw chirped, “They are weird. Nice though. They travel through the galaxy by hitching rides on ships or stowing away. They are really good at that, not that they have to. Just about everyone will let one hop one of their ships.”

“Yeah,” Rillrillrillrill buzzed, “They are considered lucky. Trips just seem to go more smoothly if one is on board, and they never make a mess or damage anything. We are always happy to give one a lift.”

“Anyone with any sense is,” the Novux nodded.

“Why?” Veeka asked.

“Because they are lucky,” the Novux replied. “It’s definitely a sign of good fortune if one shows up.”

Longpaw and Rillrillrillrill both nodded sagely.

“I didn’t know about them either until they started showing up,” Karashel giggled, “I just thought they were some sort of local fauna. I was going to shoo them away until Rillrill damn near bit me in half.”

“Moron…” Rillrillrillrill buzzed. “Fortunately, I was able to intercept you before you made an embarrassment of us all. Someone else would have stopped you, but they would have talked.”

“Forgive me for not being some void-crazed spacer,” Karashel giggled. “I’m glad I didn’t, though. They are really nice. I just like having them around, you know.”

“Did you know that on our first interstellar voyage, we were graced with a mote?”

“Really?” both Longpaw and Rillrillrillrill asked.

“Yes! About halfway into our first trade mission, the galley master turned on the lights in the kitchen to find a void mote carefully going through the compost bin. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but it seemed friendly enough. So he handed it a vetlip root and called the captain. He didn’t know what it was either, so they gave it a box and a blanket and started calling around. It didn’t take long to get a reply, and we were told it was a very good omen and that the motes had blessed us. Turns out that that first mission was a historic success and paved the way for everything that followed. Of course, it’s likely just a coincidence, but the motes have been quite well regarded by the Novux ever since.”

He preened.

“And our ships are quite regularly blessed by them, and our homeworld has a very large mote presence. There may be as many as a hundred on our world at any given time.”

“Falsehood!” Rillrillrillrill buzzed.

“It’s impossible to know for sure, of course,” the Novux clucked smugly, ”but if you go to any one of our cities, you will likely see at least one of them going through the trash. We even build little mote houses in our yards or have mote doors built into our very homes.”

“There is no way a fuzzbit would ever enter one of your stinky perches.”

“Oh?” the Novux clucked as he pulled out his communicator. “Care to explain this then? It was posted just last week.”

It showed a void mote happily sitting in somebody’s kitchen, munching on some sort of leaf.

“Clearly doctored,” the Rill scoffed…

…and then asked, “So, you just make small doors for them?”

“Yes, and if they realize that they are welcome, they might just drop by,” the Novux preened. “We put a little picture of a mote over the door. It seems to help. Though, to be honest, they usually just sleep outside like they always do. We do seem to attract a lot of them, though.”

“Huh,” Rillrillrillrill buzzed. “I will pass that along. Thank you, fellow colonizer,” she buzzed, causing Karashel’s eyestalks to twitch with irritation, much to the Rill’s pleasure.

“Are they all that small?” Veeka asked, “I infer that they are sapient, but their cranial capacity must be tiny.”

“Oh, that was a young juvenile,” the Novux clucked, “There’s an adult over there, talking to that Y’keen,” he said as he indicated one of that elder race with his beak. “The Y’keen often chat with them, though nobody knows exactly what they are saying, if they are saying anything at all. Whatever language they use is not in any database or archive, and neither race is especially forthcoming.”

The Novux shrugged a very human shrug.

“It’s just one of those mysteries. You should try to get to know them, Veeka. It’s definitely worth the effort… sometimes. A good eighty percent of what they say is nonsense, but that other twenty percent… legal tender.”

The Novux cocked his head.

“And speaking of legal tender,” he trilled seductively, “As I was saying, my dear anarchists, if you review the documents I have provided, you will see quotes for various items of interest completely independent of any trade agreements, capital expense, or any other long term obligation. You tell us what you want and how much, and you get it, either one container or a shipload.”

“Really?” Karashel blurped. “That is both very interesting and very unlike you.”

“Of course, we would be willing to negotiate discounts for both bulk purchases and subscriptions where a certain volume is purchased over a pre-determined time period. But neither is necessary.”

“Why the change?” Rillrillrillrill buzzed suspiciously. “I thought you sphincters only sold capital equipment with that stupid padlock firmware and licensing rot.”

“Changing times require change,” the Novux trilled, “Adapt or perish. Or, at the very least, miss out on the opportunity for significant profit. You five represent an ever-growing group of systems that have both successfully broken their admittedly disadvantageous trade agreements and are not overly eager to enter into new ones. However, the majority of those systems, yours included, do not have sufficient industrial development. This deficiency is your big weakness and one that is already driving some of your party members right back into trade agreements they do not want. Of course, your distressingly good legal resources and negotiators, as well as intelligence gathering and data processing capabilities that we still cannot explain, do serve to ensure that your members are getting very different terms than before. Still, I strongly suspect that many of them would much rather simply buy what they want instead of entering into an agreement at all.”

He preened.

“The Novux trade group has significant unused industrial capacity. Many of our customers’ industrial facilities are not operating at anything close to full capacity or could be easily upgraded. In fact, most of them would be all too happy for the additional production and their share of the profits. One recent addition to the Novux family is particularly unfortunate and could easily accommodate any number of new facilities, provide the labor to man them, and would be delighted to do so.”

He sighed.

“And privately, they really need the boost, poor guys. The communalists could gain access to the high-tech goods and weapons that their systems need, and they could actually start developing an economy again… And that’s just one system!”

“Weapons?!?” Veeka blurted, her voice squeaking with alarm, “Helkkakarreai, you can’t be serious! You would arm these people?”

“Someone will,” he replied, “It might as well be us. Who would you rather they get arms from, the Terrans? The Forsaken? Besides, Veeka, times are… I would say uncertain, but there is no longer that comfort. These people need weapons, both light and heavy, as well as ships. If you honestly do not know why then you are NOT the intelligent being I have respected for years.”

“But they are a threat to the Federation itself!” Veeka chittered and then fell into shocked silence as the entire group, the Novux included, laughed at her.

“Oh, Veeka,” Karashel giggled, “You are such a beeminin. They are a scrumptious little… I don’t think most worlds have a similar critter, but they are about a kilogram of tasty a piece. They are very quick, but when they run, they don’t pay attention to much else. All you gotta do is put a snare across one of their runs. They are so worried about some noise or shadow that they never see the wire. Then, it’s lunchtime!”

Karashel looked at Veeka with weary, almost haunted eyes.

“While it is true that I loathe the Federation and will truly enjoy watching it burn, I don’t have to do a single thing to make that happen. The Federation is breathing its last. I’m not in the least bit concerned about the Federation, you, or anything else except the survival of my people. The same goes for everyone at this table, except the Besl, who are fixated on revenge.”

“And what we tear from the bleeding corpse of our former oppressors will go a long way towards that survival,” Laek~Vet hissed as he picked up the tablet in front of him. “Especially if Helkie over here is telling the truth. All we need is cash, and that we have.”

“I am trying to find an error, there,” Karashel bubbled, “But you do have a point, a soulless psychopathic point, but a point.”

Laek~Vet shrugged.

“As I have repeatedly said, It’s not my call. My people cry out for vengeance, and vengeance they will get. Either my government will provide it, or the next one will. So what I actually feel about the matter is of little relevance. However, what I actually feel about the matter does not spoil my meals nor deprive me of slumber,” he added with a little smirk. “As I have also repeatedly said, fuck them.”

“And, just as we, and the Federation,” the Novux councilor said, cutting his eyes at Veeka, “overlooked the injustices inflicted upon your people, the Novux do not care about your domestic policies nor trade agreements with other systems. Business is business, my good Besl. We’ve had conversations that you most likely do not wish discussed here. I have new information that you may find of interest. Feel free to call upon our embassy at your convenience.”

Veeka’s heart froze in her chest. She had come here looking for signs of instability and weakness. Instead, she knew with terrifying certainty that the Communalists had won. If the Novux were starting to deal with them, it would only be a matter of time before others did as well.

It was over.

“I have something for you, Rillrillrillrill,” the Novux said as he reached into another pocket, pulled out a small brown paperboard box, and handed it to her.

Rillrillrillrill opened it and clicked with curiosity as she pulled out a quite large rifle round and buzzed.

“Pretty,” she clicked, “but, as I have stated, we prefer to keep our weapons industry in-house. The Rill have no desire to become dependent on anyone for our defense, especially the Novux.”

She splayed her mandibles in a smile.

“No offense.”

“None taken,” the Novux trilled, “However, that is one of your rifle rounds made with Terran level technology. It has a similar propellant to theirs, and the projectile is equivalent to their latest stuff. The pressure should be about the same as your current ammunition with a reduction in barrel temperature. Considering the power and caliber of this compared to what they use, it should be even more devastating than the Terran rifle. It would be a significant increase in your firepower with a per-round cost competitive to what it costs you to produce your ammunition. We are willing to discuss en masse purchases or the sale of single-purpose production equipment that would allow you to make these at any quantity you desire.”

The Novux preened again.

“My dear Rill,” he trilled, “We can bury you in these. We can make them by the shipload. We can bury you so deep in them that you will be able to fire nonstop for years.”

Rillrillrillrill buzzed thoughtfully. “I dislike you. I mistrust you. However…”

“I have ten thousand rounds at the embassy,” the Novux clucked. “As the Terrans say, the first taste is free. You don’t have to pay a single credit. Just bring a van. We’ll even load it for you.”

“Why not,” Rillrillrillrill shrugged. “Free ammo is free ammo. Let’s see how nice these things truly are.”

“We would also like to discuss a licensing agreement for your rifles and machine guns,” the Novux clucked. “Creators knows why, but slugthrowers are all the rage, and you have a nice one.”

“That decision is not mine to make,” Rillrillrillrill replied, “But I will pass it along. More guns are better than less, no?”

“That’s our thinking,” the Novux said with a look in his eye that sent a chill all the way down Veeka’s spine to the tip of her tail. “It’s probably all for nothing, but let’s not make it easy for them.”

Rillrillrillrill buzzed ominously and expanded her hood.

“Indeed,” she rattled.

“Maybe with enough of us,” Karashel bubbled grimly, “We might have a shot, or will at least be able to slow things down enough that enough of our people can… well… I hate planning on defeat, so I’m not,” she added with a much happier tone.

“What is going on?” Veeka asked, filled with dread.

“Allow me,” the Novux clucked. “She is more likely to believe it from my corrupt beak.”

He looked directly into her eyes.

“The Federation is rotten to the core. It is a gourd with a beautiful skin but bursts as soon as you try to lift it, covering you with stink. You know it. I know it… These dirt farmers know it. It has failed. Those of us who have profited and continue to profit refuse to see it because, unlike those who share this table, we haven’t tasted the stink, not yet. However, when the time comes, that gourd will burst. It failed to protect itself during the Republic war. It is failing to stop the Forsaken. The Collective is coming, Veeka. If the Federation cannot thwart the Republic or the Forsaken, it will not survive the Collective. It will burn. That is why Karashel no longer cares about our oh-so-precious Federation. She knows it will die without her lifting a single tendril. Once she saved her people from management, which would certainly have doomed them when the bug comes, her interest in the Federation, for the most part, ended.”

He looked over at Karashel and nodded.

“She plays another game now.”

The Novux hissed, a menacing sound Veeka had never heard from one of their kind.

“And so do we.”

“So do a lot of people, Veeka,” Longpaw squeaked as he refilled his glass. “Soon, very soon, you are going to have to choose. What is more important, the Federation or your people?”

He smiled a feral fang-laden smile as he savored Councilor Maypawk’s wine (it’s pretty damn good).

“If you honestly feel that the Federation is a good bet,” he snorted, “then bet your people’s very lives on it. If you don’t, then why don’t you grab another bowl, refill your glass, drop the fucking attitude, and have a pleasant afternoon enjoying fresh air, good company, and very, very interesting conversation?”

Veeka sighed and lowered her head.

The Loo was right. Everything they had said, she had been screaming for far too long to far too many disinterested, fat, corrupt, lazy…

It was over, wasn’t it?

“It isn’t an either/or decision, Veeka,” Karashel said pleasantly, “You don’t have to commit treason, murder, or anything of the sort. Everyone here is now in a position where we benefit, at least in the short term, from the Federation sucking the way it sucks. So just have a drink and grab some more stew, Z’uush barbecue, or some of those groceries Helkie just brought. That stuff looks nice.”

Veeka closed her eyes and sighed.

“So where is this Z’uush barbecue?” she asked, trying not to burst into tears.