Chapter 1 - The
Ambassador
Admiral Lene Willoch smoothed over her
uniform and adjusted her cap as she stepped up outside of the Lontan Ambassador's office. She had been meeting with him
for years, but she always liked to be perfectly arrayed before proceeding in.
She was conscious of being a representative for her species, especially because
the Ambassador wore his own Lontan body, not a
synthetic Human one as most aliens did. Willoch
suspected the Lontans showcased their true form this
way in order to allay suspicion: wearing 'Human
clothing' might make them easier to talk to, she thought, but we still find it
inherently sinister. We want to know that the strangers will always show
themselves unmasked.
The door
opened onto the Ambassador's office, showing off its high ceiling and gaping
rear window that offered a feast of starlight. While the Earth was never
visible from these levels-hidden in Gateway Station's nadir-, a full moon hung
brightly in view.
Despite this
being the abode of an alien, the Ambassador had decorated solely with antiques
that had been gifted to him by Terran governments. There was European
portraiture, Asian screens and calligraphy, and a grand piano. The Ambassador
himself was seated on a chaise longue-with the Lontans'
size they found Human chairs uncomfortably narrow. His four arms rested at his
sides while his hands were clasped meditatively in his lap. He wore an
unadorned, single-piece suit that covered all but his head and hands. His face
was a Picassoesque jumble of features, only some of
whose organs could be paired with Human cognates.
"Good
afternoon, my dear Admiral. I trust you've been well?" the Ambassador
greeted her.
Since he was
wearing a Lontan body, he had spoken in his native
language. Willoch's implanted body computers had
transcribed all these warbles and hisses, translated them to Norwegian Bokmål,
then ticker-taped the lines of text to her over her Ocular Heads-Up Display-her
OHUD, the computer interface painted into her vision.
While his
greeting was simple in principle, most of the Norwegian words pulsed with
caveats to show all the translation's imprecisions. The 'Good afternoon' was
tagged to show that the original Lontan phrase had
been more exact, specifying a time closer to the 'second dog watch' in nautical
terms. And the word 'dear' wore an entire paragraph describing the exact breed
of Platonic attachment the Ambassador was implying. But Willoch
disregarded most of these and responded only:
"Very
well, Ambassador. And yourself?"
"Occupied
with preparations. I have just received my next assignment."
"Oh?"
Willoch was genuinely puzzled that he would be moving
on. The Ambassador had been 'the Ambassador' ever since the beginning of
Earth's first contact. Ever since she had been a little girl.
As if
sensing her exact confusion, the Ambassador answered, "Fifty years may
seem to presage an eternal commitment to your people, but for us Lontans it is merely a passing engagement. Time to move
on."
"I see.
And your next posting is to ... "
"The Xaccus Ringsystem."
"...
Oh."
Willoch was impressed. Xaccus
was the only extraterrestrial place that most Humans knew of, as apparently it
was to the Milky Way what Tokyo, New York, and Beijing would be to the Earth if
they were all combined. This made it an obvious step up from being ambassador
to a world barely past first contact.
"Congratulations,"
Willoch said.
"It is
only a deputy position ... " the
Ambassador stipulated.
"But
any posting to Xaccus is prestigious," Willoch countered for him.
The
Ambassador nodded thanks-the Lontan nod, which
consisted of pursing the over-shoulders. The gesture was also tagged in Willoch's OHUD by her translator, which could decipher
alien body language. Though by now Willoch could
recognize even subtle Lontan gestures herself.
"You
must be excited at the prospect of getting back to ... well, civilization," she said.
"It's a
lot less civilized than you'd think," he replied while making a Lontan grin. "Though I shall miss the provincial charm
of your Earth, every day breaking new ground, reliving the first steps to the
stars ... I plan to come back and visit after a century or so, to see the
progress that's been made."
"I'm
humbled," said Willoch.
Though
privately she suspected that the Ambassador was not telling her the whole truth
about his sudden reassignment. It might really be due to the Singularity. The
worldwide depression was now five years old and every day brought new
anti-alien and anti-technology protests. Perhaps the Lontans
were sacking their Ambassador as an act of mea culpa, hoping it would relieve some pressure.
The Ambassador
joined his over-hands in front of him, steepling the fingers-a symbol of change
in topic. "But then we have urgent business to discuss," he said.
"The piracy."
"Oh.
Yes, indeed." Willoch had forgotten the original
purpose of this meeting. Earth maintained a low tempo of imports from the
nearest Lontan system, but the last freighters that
were scheduled to arrive had all been hijacked. Willoch
was here as the liaison of Earth's navies to the Lontans,
as she was one of only eight admirals who commanded a black-water fleet. It was
a lofty position, but she always felt like a mere pupil who handed in homework
and wrote down whatever the Ambassador said.
She opened a
notepad and the latest reports in her OHUD. She used eye gestures to set these
documents off to the side in her vision so that she still had a full view of
the Ambassador. "Do you have any new information for us?" she asked.
"No, it
is still just the three freighters missing, all intercepted around six parsecs
out from your system while on their way in. And we have no more details on
those who are responsible."
Willoch subvocalized some notes, then
started working down a list of prepared questions: "Do you have any idea
how the pirates discovered our trade route with you? We thought the Lontans were keeping Earth's location a secret to guard
against occurrences such as this."
"Oh,
yes-in fact, we protect the locations of all
first contact planets. Yet that does not change the eventuality of their being
discovered. There has not been one first contact in the last millennium where
we have revealed the planet's location on schedule versus it being discovered
prematurely. -And then typically by pirates.
"In Earth's
case, we were only expecting to be able to keep you hidden for a hundred to a
hundred and twenty years. So of course fifty-as it has turned out to be-was on
the low side of our expectations, but it is still nothing exceptional. Pirating
bands are only too eager to be the first to burn a virgin trade route-they
collect them like titles. And it does not take much to discover the economic
footprint of a first contact planet out here in the hinterland."
This piqued Willoch. She was aware that the Earth was on the fringes of
Milky Way civilization, but it was still no trailer home.
"And
what response is the Lontan Governate planning to
this piracy?" was her next question.
"Oh, we
have already made our response: we have put a temporary hold on trade to your
system to prevent further seizures."
Willoch was puzzled. "I meant, what
actions is the Governate planning to resolve
the piracy?"
"Oh,
none whatsoever."
Willoch was now stupefied. Yet how to show
that diplomatically ... "I'm sorry, 'nothing'?"
The
Ambassador performed a flourish with his hands. "Our role as the stewards
of your first contact is twofold. We are to empower your people by accelerating
your development, and we are to guide you along that altered course. But you
must always remain independent and capable of making your own decisions. If you
became reliant on us now, you would never recover.
"As an
example of this policy, the Lontan Governate maintains
no military forces in your system, nor do we allow any other species to do so.
But meanwhile we have sold you a fleet of our own warships, and those are your ships operated at your discretion. You yourself are an
admiral in your country's navy. You could even turn those ships against us,
should you wish, and-though we would advise against that-," he joked,
"that is the power of decision we have not deprived you of.
"So you
have asked me how the Lontan Governate will handle
the appearance of this pirate threat. But I should ask you how Humanity will
handle it, as you're the only ones with a fleet around here."
Willoch now understood, but she had still
not expected this abrupt washing-of-hands from the Lontans.
A pirate blockade was an interstellar issue, yet Humanity had never taken the
helm on that stage. While they did fly around in the spaceships the Lontans had sold them, and tended the colonies on Mars and
Venus the Lontans had helped them establish, they had
never done anything without the sanction of their stewards. It seemed almost
reckless to suddenly give them the lead here.
Luckily Willoch was not caught completely unprepared, as she and
the other fleet admirals had sketched out a response to this pirate threat.
Although they had done so merely as an exercise, thinking this would be thrown
out in preference for whatever the Lontans dictated
as the optimal course of action. Now that the Ambassador was actually
asking for this, Willoch felt as if a bluff
had been called.
She cleared
her throat. "Well ... what we planned"-she
began tepidly, already on the defensive and stressing the past tense-"was
to send a small task force ... out to investigate the ... the missing
ships." She was skimming the plan in her OHUD, looking ahead for any
glaring errors. "We need to gauge the strength of whoever did this. And it
will also serve as a ... fitting martial response to their actions. They've challenged our sovereignty by raiding our commerce,
so we have to show some muscle.
"Of
course none of our military officers has seen a real battle yet. We're all drills and exercises. So we would still like some
... direction from the Governate," she looked up. "Whatever you feel
appropriate to provide. And who better for that than yourself, Mister
Ambassador: you did spend three hundred years as an admiral in the Imperiate, I believe." She smiled ingratiatingly.
The
Ambassador bowed. "I am happy to be of assistance. And your plan lies in
the right direction. Might I ask what size task force you were considering
sending?"
"We'd
planned for thirty-five ships. That's a large number
for a reconnaissance mission, but that many ships will be able to hold its own
against even a significant force. And it still leaves nearly a hundred ships
back here to defend the system."
"Which ships
are you sending?"
An odd
question, Willoch thought. He must not be asking her
to recite names and hull numbers ... Then she realized:
"At
first we considered sending just one of the large, single-nation fleets like
the States's or China's-that way the fleet would be
best at functioning as a single unit. But then we thought that, since this
might turn into a search for the pirate vessels, it might be best to send a few
ships from each fleet. That way they'll be able to
break up quickly into small groups along national lines and still operate
effectively. And, after the mission, we'll have given field experience to
officers from all eight national navies."
"Yes,
an excellent idea. And a sound plan."
Willoch was increasingly surprised. Praise
from the gods.
"How
soon do you plan to launch?" he asked.
"...
Within two days." She had just made that figure up, but without flinching.
"You
appear to have the tactical situation well in hand, Admiral."
"Thank
you, sir." She shifted in her seat. "So would you have any advice for
us? ... Any hint of what we'll face out there?"
"Oh, I
can tell you exactly what is going to happen."
Willoch edged forward in her seat,
proffering eager attention.
"What
these pirates have done so far is drawn your attention, and you are rightly
sending an expeditionary force. But your fleet will find nothing. Instead, the
pirates will come find you. They will
send some ships out to meet yours, and appear in numbers roughly equal to your
own. They will allow you to survey them and gauge their capabilities, without
making a hostile move. And afterwards your fleet will be allowed to return home
unchallenged.
"Now
comes the part you will find distasteful. After this, your leaders should
immediately restart interstellar trade without attempting to circumvent the
pirates in any way. And then, after a few weeks, what you will find is that the
pirates are intercepting one out of every ... eight or ten cargo vessels while
letting the rest through. This will be their 'tithe.'"
Willoch recoiled. "Excuse me, I'm
puzzled. You want us to ... pay these
pirates?"
"To pay
a 'tithe,' yes," the Ambassador corrected.
"I
don't understand. A minute ago you approved of our plan to send our fleets out
to disperse them. But now you want us to ... subsidize them?"
"Ah,
then I did not make myself clear. You could never have actually 'dispersed'
them with such an action. These pirates are not like those on
Earth-ill-equipped outlaws who will flee from any real power. These are
mercenaries with modern starships and weapons. And they would not have made
their appearance unless they were able to overpower you."
Willoch balked. This situation was turning
out far different from her preconceptions. "Then why don't they just ...
overpower us? Attack and get it over with."
"Because
it's wasteful. Your system has no valuable technologies that would make it
worth sacking. Just some natural resources-which pirates can find in any of a
dozen uninhabited systems. What they're interested in
is your trade route with us. Tithing it will bring them more benefit in the
long run than any wasteful bloodshed would right now."
Willoch was growing increasingly agitated.
"So you just want us to ... give in."
"I
know, I know, this must be surprising. You are a proud people, and this is your
first real challenge. I have laid full power of action in your hands, and yet I
have just told you to practice appeasement-repugnant, yes. But you must trust
that this is by far the easiest way."
She almost
scoffed. "Do even the Lontans make such deals
with pirates?"
"At
times, yes. And, if even we must compromise ... "
Willoch looked off. While she had been
right that there was an 'optimal Lontan response' to
this blockade, she had never imagined that it would be something so craven. The
Lontans were a truly god-like species, and one
expected dazzling displays of omnipotence from gods, not puling compromises.
"If you
try a military solution," the Ambassador continued, "these pirates
will fight you to exhaustion. Finally you will be forced to accept a tithe, but
by then they will exact a far greater tribute than they would have at first.
"And
please know that tithing is not completely one-sided. Once the pirates pick a
tithe, they will stick to it. You will have to 'renegotiate' every five to ten
years, but otherwise they will never provoke you to military action. And they
will even protect your trade route from rival pirates who may try to stake
their own claim.
"In all
of this I am speaking empirically, of course. As a first contact ambassador I
have studied thousands of cases of piracy to fledgling systems. It always
comes, and this is always the easiest way of dealing with it."
Willoch was looking down, hands folded in
her lap. "I see," she said, by way of holding back anything less
tactful. "I wonder ... what is the probability that these pirates are
bluffing? If this type of business is done galaxy-wide, then there must be
pirates who are extorting a tithe when they have no ability to back it
up."
"That is
possible, but it is a question that will be answered by your reconnaissance
mission. If they are bluffing then you will encounter only a paucity of ships,
either antiquated or in disrepair. But if they are not ... "
"I
see," she said again. She was closing and minimizing windows in her OHUD,
clearing her desktop. "Well, thank you for your input, Ambassador. I will
indeed pass your recommendations along."
"Thank
you, Admiral. I am only trying to save you time and trouble in the long
run."
Willoch nodded with begrudging respect and
departed. She headed back towards her office where she would write up a brief
on her meeting. She did not know how she would present the Ambassador's advice
to the other admirals-she still had to sort through her own feelings on it
first ...
But in a
moment she strayed to a halt. She realized that this was the first time she had
left the Ambassador's office with not just another homework assignment. This
time they had been given a mandate: 'Deal with the pirates yourselves.' At first
she had been stunned and unready, but now she was warming to the challenge,
thrilled at the power and freedom it represented. The Lontans
were treating them as equals.
... Though
soon resurfaced her old fear of whether or not they
were ready to act on their own. This was a long-standing concern with Willoch. She had often considered how, when the Lontans made first contact, that had effectively chosen the
nations and leaders that would take Humanity to the stars. Appearing in the
1990's seemed to have gone well so far; but, if they had come only sixty years
earlier, they would have cemented Hitler, Stalin, and Tojo
as the statesmen of the stellar age. What a ludicrous dice roll it was. So how
much better could Willoch trust her own leaders-and
herself-were?
But I won't shy away, she thought, spurring back on her path. She
did not know whether she and her leaders were Caesars or Neros,
Solomons or Caligulas, but they were what Humanity
had. She could only trust that the Lontans had known
what they were doing when they looked at the whirlwind waltz of Human history
and said, 'Let's cut in here ... '