Tales From the Terran Republic

Chapter 292: Buying Trouble: Stankworld (1)

Chapter 292: Buying Trouble: Stankworld (1)

Alan, Grace, and Captain Vexp were in his office having another closed-door briefing.

“Welp,” Grace said as she sipped the mug of klaat that now seemed to be grafted to her left hand. “We’re losing Gracinax.”

“That’s a shame,” Captain Vexp said, “He will be keenly missed. Is there no way that he can be retained?”

“Nope,” Grace said. “He wants to go home. The dumbass wants to join the resistance. Can’t blame him considering everything, but damn, dude, it’s suicide.”

“Captain,” Alan said carefully, “Considering that he is going to be entering combat, perhaps we could give him a little going away present?”

“A present?” Captain Vexp said dubiously, “You’re talking weapons, right?”

“While we are a peaceful species,” Alan said as Grace nodded innocently, “Our people have had to protect themselves more than once. As such, we can gain access to certain robo fac ‘recipes’ that he may find useful.”

“I don’t want to be an arms dealer!”

“Are you sure?” Grace said, “The markup on even a knife is insane. We could…”

“Be hunted down for supplying insurgents!” the captain whistle-kettled, “No. Absolutely not. As much as I like Gracinax, and regardless of how valid I believe his cause, we are not risking the survival of my race over this. I’m going to have to wrap myself around a post on this one. It’s not happening.”

“Okay,” Grace said with a shrug.

“I know that ‘okay’,” the captain said firmly. “Do NOT make weapons!”

“Fine, we won’t make weapons,” Grace replied.

“Grace…” the captain said with tones that meant he was serious this time (even if they were a bit comical), “That includes ‘not weapons.’ Do you understand?”

“Fiiiine,” Grace huffed, “What about data?”

“Data?”

“We are definitely out of the loop and completely cut off from our people,” Alan said as he drank some klaat, wincing as he did so. That shit was nasty, but it did the job. “But, from what we can gather, our people have released a database concerning weapons and weapons development that his people may find useful.”

“A completely harmless and peaceful people, huh?”

“Peaceful doesn’t mean weak,” Alan replied, “And we are harmless. I mean, Grace and I are. Just because we can get our hands on weapon designs doesn’t mean we know how to use them.”

“I see…”

“Seriously, captain dude,” Grace said, “We couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“A what?”

“A very small bug,” Alan clarified, “one that is easily squashed. It’s a figure of speech from our people, meaning that we do not have the desire or ability to cause harm.”

“Hmm”, the captain whistled. (It was more like “Sheeee”, but that’s their “hmm”.) “Well… As long as it is just data… and he buys the tablet or crystal or whatever. I don’t want any of this getting traced back to us. If anyone were to ask, all you would be doing is telling him where to obtain the data himself, correct?”

The captain fluttered his tail, indicating a wry smile.

“However, what is happening to his people is… Genocide can NOT be countenanced. If there is a way we can aid them safely, I have no issue with you handing him a tablet filled with human nightmare tech… Besides, you did this behind my back, right?”

“Absolutely,” Alan said smoothly, “you have no knowledge of this.”

“Keep it that way, but absolutely no actual weapons or other gear.”

“Next item is our next stop,” Alan said. “We just got a great lead from Gorn.”

“Who?”

“T-Rex,” Grace said, “You know, big teeth, little arms.”

“And what is this lead?”

“The Freekegg,” she replied. “Their prices on organic chemicals, especially precursors, are very interesting. We can literally just buy and sell for one hell of a profit.”

“But?” the captain asked dubiously.

“There isn’t a but this time,” Alan said, “We checked the posted prices, and it’s exactly as Gorn said. They are a good twenty-five percent lower than any other producer in the sector. We can make thirty to fifty percent off every credit we spend… at least.”

“There has to be a reason for it,” the captain replied. “If you honestly believe there isn’t a catch, that just means you haven’t found it. Check again.”

“Well…” Grace said.

“What?” the captain blatted.

“The Freekegg have a… reputation.”

“Go on.”

“It is said that they are so unpleasant that they have to offer low prices so anyone will deal with them at all.”

“What is so unpleasant that it drives away trade?”

“The smell,” Grace replied, “They say that they smell awful… Annnd that isn’t the most odious thing about them. They are supposed to be a very ‘difficult’ people. But for pretty much a guaranteed twenty-five percent above what we would normally get? Dude, we can put up with a LOT.”

“And you can’t get more odious than her birth family,” Alan snickered.

“Or maybe they are so difficult that they have a stick up their ass almost as big as the one your family passes around,” Grace retorted with an affectionate nudge.

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Alan chuckled, “But I don’t miss that stick one bit.”

“Wait. Did your family actually…”

“It would have actually been less constraining,” Alan replied, “No. ‘Stick up the ass’ is yet another human idiom. It means uptight or having no sense of humor, things that my family can definitely be accused of.”

“Oh,” the captain replied, “That’s a relief. For a moment, I thought you actually inserted rods into your rectum.”

Grace started grinning.

“Well, actually…”

***

A few days later, Alan and Grace peered at the main display curiously.

“What the fuck?” Grace said as she cocked her head at what they beheld.

In a geostationary orbit above the cloud-shrouded planet below, was a large object that claimed to be a space station.

Alan and Grace weren’t so sure.

“Well put,” Alan said as he pulled up the scans of the station.

“Okay, this is just weird. It’s bleeding atmosphere everywhere. You would think it was damaged, but it’s all leaving through those… vents?” he said, indicating countless pores over the tapered oblong “blister” that was floating in space.

“Weird,” Grace said as she looked at the scans. “Is it made of… wood?”

“If it’s wood, it’s the weirdest wood I’ve ever seen,” Alan replied, “That ‘wood’ is almost entirely comprised of some sort of silicate cables reinforced with some sort of ferrous alloy. Maybe an engineered material? If so, I would love to take a look at their robo facs. You would need pretty advanced nanotech to make that stuff, and that’s before we even start talking about those membranes.”

“Well, it explains their prices,” Grace mused, “that’s one advanced polymer. I’ve never seen anything like it. Wait. Is the station actually inflated? That can’t be safe.”

“It appears to be,” Alan replied, “Along with hydraulic ‘veins’ using actual water? Are they using turgor pressure as structural reinforcement?”

“This is so weird,” Grace said. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear we are looking at some sort of plant.”

“Yeah. Well, they say they are an odd bunch,” Alan shrugged. “But we’ve come this far, and it looks stable, at least in the short term.”

“We greet you, Others,” a cheerful if a bit moist voice said over the comm. “Welcome!”

“They seem nice enough,” Alan quietly mused. “I wonder why they have a bad reputation.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Grace whispered.

“Thank you for your warm welcome,” Captain Vexp replied. “We look forward to doing business with you.”

“Would like a current price list?” the damply happy voice asked, “We can transfer goods to your vessel without you having to debark. Most prefer this option.”

“Are there vendors that we can meet with face to face?” Alan asked.

“Yes… But…”

“We would like to dock and debark,” Alan said, “Stretch our legs at the very least, and we would like to meet and possibly negotiate a few trades. We have some very interesting polymers, though I suspect most would be of little interest. We also have machinable ceramics and both ferrous and non-ferrous alloys, including some very high-purity magnesium that we can part with at prices well below the current rate.”

“We are always happy to have guests! But… You are aware of the peculiarities of our race, correct?”

“We have reviewed the data, and nothing is immediately harmful,” Alan said, “At least for some of us. Humans are very adaptable and can tolerate very severe conditions that many other species cannot.”

“Yeah, we aren’t afraid of a little stank,” Grace interjected, “Besides, I want to see how bad it really is!”

A strange gurgling could be heard.

“You’re humans?!? We would love to meet you guys! Are you really eating the [email protected]'an?”

Alan sighed heavily.

“Not all of us do that,” he said wearily.

“Yeah!” Grace added, “It hardly ever happens anymore. Only the worst clans still do that… like the Harlequin, for example.”

“Otherfriend,” the voice managed between gurgles, “We can’t stand those otherwads. Eat as many of them as you see fit!”

“We promise we won’t eat anyone during our visit,” Alan said. This was getting really old. However, he reminded himself that the people of the Asscrack were just being honest about their concerns, a refreshing if tiresome change from the whispering and nervous looks they encountered in more “civilized” places.

“Other, if you can keep one of us down, we’ll feed you somebody just for the novelty of it!”

A strange light started to shine above a polymer “window” that opened into a strangely organic-looking orifice.

“(gurgle) You are welcome to enter us. I believe the docking bay we have selected will be sufficient for your needs. We do offer fusion fuels as well as pure, odor-free gasses and water, should they be required… Oh, you might want to bring or fabricate respirators before you debark. We can make them, but we can’t guarantee that the inside won’t absolutely reek by your standards.”

“Like we said,” Grace said confidently, “We’re humans. There is no way we are going to let a little stink get in the way of profit.”

“(GURGLE) Well, this is going to be interesting. We look forward to meeting you. Samefriends!” the voice gurgled a bit further from the mic, “We got some lively ones coming in! Humans, if you can believe it!”

“No way,” a more distant voice gurgled. “This will be fun! Hey, is that mic still live?”

“Sludge!” the first voice exclaimed as the line suddenly went dead.

“Well, they seem friendly, at least,” Alan said.

***

“And you're sure you don’t want respirators?” Beep asked as he followed Alan and Grace to the airlock.

“Nah,” Grace scoffed, “I’ve probably smelled worse.”

She turned to Alan.

“Remember the Love Tug?”

“How could I forget?” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, causing Grace to giggle.

“The Love Tug?” Beep asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s the ‘final exam’ for Void Scouts,” Alan replied, “It’s a derelict floating in space somewhere. They throw a bunch of scouts on it and fly away for a month.”

“The test is simple,” Grace smiled, still wrapped in Alan’s embrace, “Survive. Every year before they abandon the latest bunch, the scoutmasters go onboard and completely wreck the place, undoing whatever the last batch did so they could live. You are tossed aboard a huge dead, badly damaged freighter with no life support, no power, no water… nothing.”

“Oh heap!” Beep exclaimed. “And you both survived?”

“Yep,” Alan replied, finally releasing Grace, “In fact, we didn’t lose a single scout.”

“How?”

“Training,” Alan replied, “This is the culmination of years of scouting. The Void Scouts teach what we call ‘void survival’, how to survive in space, arguably what is now the porkie’s natural habitat. It’s a way to keep the old traditions alive and preserve them in case they are ever needed again. It’s sort of a mandatory thing for people of a ‘certain status’ like we once were.”

“It’s also a social club,” Grace said, “The big families don’t get along. In fact, some of us absolutely hate each other and will kill each other given half a chance. The scouts were formed in part for the next generation of potential leaders to get to know each other in hopes of keeping the violence to a minimum. It’s a lot harder to gut someone if you know them.”

“The ‘social’ aspect of scouting is where the ‘Love Tug’ got its name,” Alan smirked, “There is a lot of ‘socializing’ on that old hulk.”

“It’s where we first hooked up!” Grace grinned. “Sometimes it works a little too well,” she laughed.

“But…” Beep said, “Haven’t you said that you two are ‘harmless’?”

“Oh, we are,” Alan smoothly lied, “We were very highly placed in our respective families. Neither of us was expected to get our hands dirty. However, people like us would often… make arrangements that involved violence.”

“Not us, though,” Grace said with big innocent eyes, “Neither of us was ever going to be in that sort of leadership role. We were just going to be basic admin, or maybe logistics, you know, what every big organization needs to operate. In fact, I was going to work for our ‘legitimate’ business. So was Alan. It’s why we got along so well.”

“Exactly,” Alan said, “However, even we were expected to be able to operate and maintain a ship even under severe conditions like we are doing for you guys. Scouting is how we obtained a lot of the experience we are now using to very good effect.”

“And forming connections with other families was a good fit for us who weren’t expected to be part of ‘operations’,” Grace said guilelessly. “See, perfectly harmless… but still able to do a lot of what we are doing.”

“Oh,” Beep said, “That makes sense.”

“Well, if you will excuse us,” Alan said, “We have to go meet some very smelly people.”

The airlock opened, and Alan and Grace entered it.

“Well, they have certainly provided quite the build-up,” Alan said, “I wonder if it will live up to the hype.”

“Dude, I’ve been in a room full of…”

The outer airlock door opened, and Grace fell silent, her eyes wide with horror… until they teared up.

“Oh. My. God…”

“By the Void’s grasping hand!” Alan exclaimed as he staggered against the wall.

He looked out of the airlock, looking at a group of strange, misshapen beings. They were tall bipeds, with broad rounded shoulders and long muscular arms, appearing like mangy, partially rotting gorillas in varying states of decay covered with strange scaly sores and strange multi-colored growths all over their bodies.

All of them were looking at them expectantly with their large eyes partially enshrouded with fungus-like fur.

They seemed amused.

“Should we retreat and fabricate respirators?” Alan asked.

“And give those fuckers the satisfaction?” Grace dry heaved. “Besides, I’m fine. (hurk) If you need a respirator…”

“I was merely concerned for your comfort,” Alan lied, “You are looking a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” Grace said through clenched teeth. “If you want to puss out, be my guest.”

Alan glared at her. So, it was going to be like this, was it? Fine.

“You needn’t be concerned about me, wyrm,” he said, fighting back the urge to vomit. “Let’s go meet the zombie monkeys.”

***

“By the dust-covered forebearers!” one of the Freekegg gurgled, “I must say I’m impressed. Most run right back into their ship. You humans are tough.”

Grace suddenly doubled over and puked.

“Is she… alright?”

“She’s fine,” Alan replied, “this is one of our customs. It’s a sign of goodwill.”

“Yeah… Just… HUUURK… saying… hello…”

“It smells wonderful,” the Freekegg enthused, bending down and deeply inhaling, followed by the others.

They conversed amongst themselves for a moment, presumably about Grace’s ‘customary greeting’.

Unfortunately, this consisted of gurgling farting noises from the strange projections… along with chemical messages that, in defiance of all reason, managed to smell even worse.

Alan quickly followed Grace in “greeting” their new friends.

“Is there… hydrochloric acid in there?” the Freekegg that was speaking for the group asked in amazement.

“(urp)… Yes,” Alan said as Grace wiped her mouth on her tunic. “We use it in combination with enzymes to digest our food.

“Amazing… Your digestive system must be very robust. Is this how you are able to digest so many different sapient species?”

Alan managed to dry heave and sigh simultaneously. Grace was impressed.

“We don’t… Okay. Some of us do that, but we don’t. In fact, we consider it… impolite.”

The Freekegg broke out in “loud” flatulent laughter. Alan and Grace never considered a smell “loud” before, but it was the only way to describe it.

“Impolite…” The speaking Freekegg gurgled, delighted. “You humans are great!”

“…I’m glad you approve,” Grace muttered, fighting back losing last night’s dinner. (Breakfast was already gone).

Unfortunately, the Freekegg found this hilarious… Annnd Grace lost said dinner.

“That means she really likes you,” Alan said just before he joined Grace in another greeting.

***

“How are you guys holding up?” the speaking Freekegg asked.

“Oh, we’re (gag) fine,” Grace replied, “I’m feeling much better after our customary greeting.”

“A curious custom,” the Freekegg known as GuruG said, “It didn’t look comfortable at all.”

“It’s nowhere near as unpleasant as it appears,” Alan lied, successfully avoiding another greeting. “I can’t help but notice that you are the only one speaking to us. Is there a reason?”

“Yes!” GuruG replied. “Your strange and complex sonic transmissions are very difficult for us. Not all of us can master it. In fact, being an ‘otherspeaker’ is my job, a very respected and lucrative one. There are only a few of us on the whole station. Don’t worry, though. Many can understand your vibrations even if they can’t speak in kind. We also have translation applications on our unified devices that can convert our language into any of several common tongues.”

“Your (cough) chemical language?”

“Our native language is both chemical and sonic,” GuruG replied, “and no. That would be entirely too much of a hassle. Our translators convert our symbolic written language to a format understandable by the others, such as yourself. Literacy is nearly universal, save in the most remote regions of our planet.”

“Interesting. I would have thought you would have a chemical ‘written language’ as well.”

“Oh, we do,” GuruG replied, “But it fades quickly, suitable only for temporary notes and ‘graffiti’ on the walls. Our symbolic language is permanent even if our natural ‘written’ language is more expressive than any inscribed rune. Unfortunately, as beautiful as it is, won’t last a month. It’s also rather hard to have a how do you say… ‘computers’ emit anything other than the most basic of scents. We’ve been using symbols ever since we inscribed clay tablets, but our digital revolution is what made the written word universal.”

“We (urp) used clay tablets back in ancient times as well,” Grace said.

“It would stand to reason most races did,” GuruG said, “Sadly, we do not have the opportunity to really converse with most others.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Alan said, “(Blorp)…”

Grace looked over in surprise, “blorp” was a new one. She wondered exactly how he did that.

“…You beings are quite pleasant… well… aside from your smell.”

GuruG emitted another blast of potent laughter.

“Yeah, you reek, dude,” Grace added, causing many of the curious Freekegg who constantly shadowed them to join in the laughter, causing the couple to dry heave. (They were both pretty much out of greeting juice.)

“Is that your laughter?” GuruG asked.

“Let’s pretend that it is,” Alan replied, causing yet another bout of laughter.

“You guys are great!” GuruG laughed, causing Alan’s eyes to water to the point of blindness. “Hey, are you up to a tour of the station, or are you just about done?”

“We would love a look at this place,” Alan said. “A little stink is not enough to (ugh) em… oh dear… eliminate my curiosity.”

“(heeeeave) Mine either,” Grace nodded. “We just have to know the deal. What… (cough) This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. It’s almost as if it was grown.”

“That’s because it was!”

“How does that even work?” Grace asked, her nausea temporarily forgotten.

“Like anything else,” GuruG replied, “We ‘plant’ a seed, and it grows. However, instead of a seed drill, we use a rocket.”

Another Freekegg approached, “farting” rapidly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” GuruG said to the other Freekegg. “It is a bit more involved than that, but that’s the basics without going into an hours, or perhaps days long lecture on the process. The original seed is quite large and has plenty of sustenance, but obviously,” GuruG said, wiggling a strange infectious-looking protrusion from his shoulder at his comrade, “It cannot derive further sustenance from a vacuum. It must be tended to and cared for, which requires additional launches. However, the original seed will grow into an airtight structure large enough to accommodate a few samesouls.”

“Fascinating,” Alan said, deeply impressed.

“The samebeings feed the growing station…”

His companion started farting again, much to the pair’s barely concealed distress.

“Or ship,” GuruG said with a dismissive blast from one of his many orifices. “The only real difference is whether we install engines and navigation or not. “Forgive my friend. Engineers are very pedantic. He is right, though. We make all our spaceframes this way. In fact, this station started out as a ship, but when it got too big, we converted it to a stationary structure rather than harvest it… And yes, I know it isn’t stationary,” he added before the engineer could fart again. “But come on, sameling, it is in geostationary orbit.”

A foul wisp of amusement oozed from GuruG.

“Thus, it is motionless relative to the planet’s surface… So, technically it isn’t moving as far as someone on the planet is concerned.”

The engineer let out a loud and unfortunately fragrant blast and stomped off.

“I love annoying that sameling,” GuruG said. “It is so much fun. He gets so angry… Don’t you?”

”Blaaaat! Ptooo! Gurglebubble!”

“We have guests, samebro! Don’t kill them!” GuruG laughed. “Are you two okay? You seem… unsteady, and are your eyes supposed to secrete that much fluid?”

“Sure,” Grace managed to say between gasps causing GuruG to suppress a potentially incapacitating guffaw.

***

“And here is one of the external hull plates,” GuruG said proudly.

“And this is alive?” Alan asked, his nose thankfully dulled by the constant assault.

“The interior is. It constantly secretes a nonliving ‘bark’ that serves as the hull. In addition to the bark being very strong, both considerably tougher and harder than most otherships we have encountered, but also self-repairing. It also grows along with the entire structure, thus simplifying things a great deal.”

“Wow,” Grace said, touching the surface. “(ahem)… I gotta know, how did you develop this technology?”

“We’re not exactly sure,” GuruG replied, “As far as anyone knows, we’ve always been able to do it. We’ve had a knack for selective breeding and genetic manipulation since before the great division. After the one became many of the same, our great ancestors provided the knowledge to us. Oddly enough, we also all have innate knowledge of many techniques from birth.”

“That’s unbelievable!” Grace exclaimed.

“It is a mystery to be sure,” GuruG said with a shrug that caused fragments of whatever weird growths that plagued his body to fall. “Snacktime!” he exclaimed as he gathered one of the chunks and popped it into his mouth. “It is one of the big mysteries of our people. We thought it strange before we met others, but the fact that it is, pardon the language, weird as hell has only been further confirmed since.”

He looked at them as the odd, not exactly fleshy things covering his shoulders, neck, and part of his face wiggled strangely.

“But that’s not the only thing that’s weird,” he said, “we are not originally from this world.”

“You came here from another system?”

“Apparently,” GuruG replied, “We have absolutely no idea from where, but our genetic coding structures are vastly different from a lot of the life on this planet. The life that does share our genetic structure resembles us, and the majority of life does not. The fossil record clearly shows the other life being present for the geologic timespans typical of you others, but we are far more recent, only a few million years or so.”

“That long?!?” Grace blurted.

“Another mystery,” GuruG said, “Upon first establishing contact with the others who came to our system, we were very excited because we thought, with contact with the greater galaxy, we would finally be able to learn about our origins. Alas, that was not the case. Any information concerning our history and origins was wiped away long ago during one of the great dark ages that seem to regularly plague this region of space.”

His protrusions drooped.

“It looks like we will never know for sure. All we have are whispers from the oldest of our ancestors, and they are confused babbling, stuff about gods, and divine commandments…”

His protrusions perked up and wiggled.

“Of course, those commandments were sucked out the airlock during the great division. The oldest of our ancestors was so mad that they refused to commune with the same for thousands of years. They eventually calmed down, though, once even they came to accept that our gods had abandoned us. These are just oral traditions, legends, and myths now. Those ancestors fell silent long before we developed writing. There are only ‘skeins’ from that era, and any surviving skeins are nearly dust or actually fossilized, and reading them is nearly impossible. Very little can be gathered from them. Fortunately, the first scribes recorded what they could, but even back then, it was scarcely better.”

“Skeins?” Alan asked.

“Protein threads secreted by the ancestors,” GuruG replied, “These were what we used to record and share information before the invention of writing. Sadly, they are not as durable as clay tablets, inscribed stone, or stamped metal… Or data crystals, for that matter. Most remaining skeins are much more recent, and records from our earliest days are ‘dubs’. They are copies of copies of copies read and reproduced by the ancestors. I’m sure you are aware of the problems that this can create.”

Grace and Alan nodded.

“So, our ancient legends are just that,” GuruG said, “They might be true, some version of the truth, or complete fabrications. In that way, the same are much akin to you others. However, something brought us here… or we brought ourselves somehow. The prevailing belief is that our ‘gods’ were another more advanced species but other than that, we don’t know a lot.”

“Okay,” Grace said, “I was trying to be polite, but I just gotta know. What is up with you dudes? Are you all sick or something?”

GuruG let out a huge malodorous laugh that seemed to seep into Alan and Grace’s very souls, causing them to stagger backward.

“Sorry… sorry…” GuruG said, “I forgot myself for a moment. The answer to your question is both yes, and no. Yes. The being you see before you is ‘infected’ with something, but I am not. I am the infection. The external features that you view as signs of contagion are actually parts of my true form, which grows within my host. Unfortunately, perhaps for us both, I am eventually what you would call fatal.”

“That is both the coolest and the most disturbing thing I have ever heard!” Grace exclaimed. “Um…”

“No, we can’t infect others,” GuruG said, anticipating her exact question, “Not easily, and we have ways to treat it if it does happen, which it never has. We seem to have adapted to our homeworld early in our existence here and are, for lack of a better word, ‘calibrated’ to interact with the otherlife on it and it alone…”

“But?” Alan asked.

“Okay,” GuruG said, “You guys seem cool… and you do far worse things on a regular basis. Don’t pretend that your species doesn’t. While these ‘Harlequin’ may be a separate cultivar, they are part of your sameness, and if what they were doing was truly unacceptable, that cultivar would be culled, correct?”

“It’s another of those yes and no answers,” Alan said, “Yes. What the Harlequin do, much of which is far worse than ‘cannibalism’ or, more precisely, ‘xenophagy’, is considered truly unacceptable by many of our other ‘cultivars’ or, as we call them, ‘houses’. However, the Harlequin are useful for the same reasons we find them detestable. As you are doubtlessly aware, the galaxy isn’t always a nice place, and this sometimes requires not nice people. For example, from what we understand, the [email protected]'an were first asked nicely to stop predating on us.”

“(laughfart) And when that predictably failed? You sent these Harlequin?”

“And on the first guess, too!” Grace laughed as she held her nose, not that it helped. That funk got in through your skin. “I knew you were smart!”

“Stop making me laugh,” GuruG fragrantly laughed, “You’re only making it worse on yourselves!”

“So, we tolerate the Harlequin’s proclivities,” Alan said, “and then unleash them when appropriate. Also, an attempt to wipe them out would be difficult… and they would eat us as well, given half of a reason… like trying to wipe them out, for example. So, yes, they are detested, but nobody is going to try to stop them, especially when they mostly cooperate with our… same? Did I use that right?”

“Not really,” GuruG replied, “But I understand what you are outgassing. As I was saying, we can’t infect life from other systems… But, as you said, the galaxy can be unkind. When we first made contact, a thread of inquiry was started, and a new skein spun. We have determined that we could spread our ‘infection’ should it be deemed necessary. However, we are keenly aware that if we were to do so, the reaction from the others, all the others, would likely be… unpleasant. Thus, it is only a very plausible theory, not one that we have ever even started to put into practice.”

“Mmm-Hmm,” Grace said as she raised an eyebrow. “Makes (gag) perfect sense not to ensure that your superweapon would actually work before it would be needed.”

GuruG wiggled a protrusion.

“As you say yourselves, let’s pretend that it does.”