Date Point: 15y6m3d AV
High Mountain Fortress, Gao
Regaari
“They’re hurt right now, an’ they’re weak. Best intel we’ve got says they ain’t got much now that their stupid space donut is gone, but they’ll be raiding along space lanes and all that. We’re gonna protect every Dominion ship we know about, whether they want it or not.”
“Deny the Hunters their prey?”
Daar was apparently in a boisterous-humorous-sardonic kind of a mood, and reacted accordingly: he flicked an ear at Champion Goruu and produced an avuncular kind of pant-grin. “Exactly. Outstanding, some of y’all are catching on!”
Fiin inclined his head slightly. “An’ the more losses we inflict the less they can raid. It’ll snowball.”
Genshi raised his paw. “Dominion ships, My Father?”
“Yeah.”
“We are leaving the Alliance to fend for itself, then?”
“No. We ain’t. But ‘fer now, we’re technic’ly at war with the Alliance, ‘cuz technic’ly we’re still Dominion security council members an’ technic’ly the cease-fire never got upgraded ‘ta peace treaty. I’m still figgerin’ out how we get past that.”
“Outright ignore it?” Champion Goruu suggested.
“Yer thinkin’ it’s that easy, huh?” Daar asked him.
“Not to be flippant, My Father…” Goruu stood up. “…But if the Alliance were agile and capable enough to catch us then we wouldn’t need to worry about protecting them.”
Sheeyo duck-nodded thoughtfully. “And the Dominion is too politically fractured right now to give us much trouble over it. Indeed, with the Corti and Humans on our side, we probably can act with impunity.”
“Breakin’ the Dominion is something I ain’t sure we should do yet.” The Great Father flowed from his spot at the table and began pacing as was his wont. “We only joined them, what? Eighteen years ago?”
“And in that time they have treated us as something akin to enemies.”
“More like vassals,” Meereo commented. “A great many demands, very little honoring of their obligations to us.”
“Janissaries. It really is the bestest word for what we were made to be, huh?”
“On the other hand…” Sheeyo said, “…our trade with the Dominion is extremely valuable. Trade which becomes impossible except through the framework of their import/export regulations and market treaties. If they sanction us, then the coffers that keep the Grand Army fed and equipped will need filling from some other source.”
“We ain’t dependent on the Dominion,” Daar pointed out. “Never have been.”
“Indeed not, My Father. But it would be a blow to morale and an extra weight pressing down on our already-laboring economy. We may not be dependent on our trade with the Dominion, but losing it would nevertheless hurt.”
“And there ain’t nobody else we can trade with to make up the difference,” Daar duck-nodded. “But you sound like you’re contradicting yourself, Champion Sheeyo. Are the Dominion too fractured to trouble us, or could they make our lives difficult?”
Sheeyo twitched an ear. “Both, My Father. They’re paralyzed by indecision and internal turmoil, but all it takes is one moment of backbone, one charismatic leader to show them the way…”
“Hrrm.”
There was a prolonged silence as they all considered the problem. Regaari broke it.
“…Is there… any reason why we couldn’t find a charismatic leader with backbone of our own?” he asked.
Sheeyo gave a frustrated gesture that was equal parts nod, headshake and shrug. “I don’t think they’ll accept a Gaoian leader at a time like this. Or a Human.”
Feeling a little bit smug, Regaari stepped up to lay out his idea. “I wasn’t thinking of a Gao or a Human—”
“No.” Daar’s tone brooked no argument.
“…My Father?”
“I ain’t interested in manipulatin’ the internal affairs of another species. Not after what was done to us.”
Wrong-footed by not even being heard out after a lifetime of brotherly trust, Regaari verbally tripped over himself. “Ah… Fortunately, My Father, I don’t think that will be an issue. Let me tell you who I have in mind…”
“No. I will not speak my displeasure again.”
Cousins or not, Brothers-in-arms or not, Regaari took one look at his old friend’s expression and claws and decided that he wasn’t suicidally ambitious in this matter. He made himself small and stepped back, too stunned and upset to reply properly but determined not to show it.
Genshi put a reassuring paw on his back as soon as the Great Father’s glare had finally turned elsewhere, and the remainder of the meeting passed without Regaari paying much attention to it. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut followed by a kick or three in the nuts for good measure.
He didn’t look at Daar as he left the chamber, and walked with Genshi down the stairs and out into the courtyard in silence. The garden there had been a place for reflection and peace since the time of Great Father Fyu, and Regaari wasn’t sure if he’d intended to go that way himself, or if Genshi had subtly guided him somehow. Either way, he was glad for the tranquility.
“I take it that hurt,” the Champion commented after a while.
“That… did not go as well as I’d hoped,” Regaari confessed.
Genshi duck-nodded solemnly. “…Out of interest, who did you have in mind?
“I thought the Great Father made it clear that we weren’t to discuss the matter further.”
Genshi casually turned to face him. Ostensibly an innocent and easy gesture, but Regaari saw him check the whole courtyard for eavesdroppers as he did so. “Regaari, even Great Fathers can blunder. Maybe he’ll rip our hides off—yes, even yours—if we go behind his back, but you have to ask yourself. Do you put your hide ahead of what’s right for Gao and the galaxy?”
“…Duty first,” Regaari admitted after a second, then chittered. “Though I hope he’d at least do me the courtesy of making it quick and painless.”
Genshi flicked an amused ear. “I’m sure for an old Cousin he can be merciful. So: Who did you have in mind?”
Regaari told him.
The way Genshi’s chittering rang off the ancient stone walls was all the approval he needed.
Date Point: 15y6m3d AV
High Mountain Fortress, Gao
Daar, Great Father of the Gao
Daar was pretty much certain Regaari would disobey him. That…hurt. It hurt for lotsa reasons, but that couldn’t distract him. What mattered was how carefully his Cousin threaded the needle, if he chose to attempt it. Daar hoped he chose wisely, because he dearly loved his idealistic Cousin and couldn’t think of much worse than being forced to break him as an example to all.
That was a worry for another day. Right then, the beatdown of the mission and the ensuing aftermath had taken its toll. Daar needed three things: he needed to lift, he needed to eat, and he needed to sleep. He hadn’t had a moment’s rest since the mission and he was starting to butt against the edge of his mental endurance. He was stressed out and angry, and the last thing anybody needed was a rampaging Great Father who couldn’t control his temper.
So, Daar did what he needed to do. He dragged Fiin and the Warleaders of all four Fangs off to the gym, then proceeded through a murderous ‘lil routine ‘Horse had sent him the other week. It was long, painful, exhausting, and just the thing to prove he could still whup the young pups on anything. That felt good and mellowed him out some, ‘specially since the gap ‘tween them was maybe just a bit wider than usual today. Pro’ly it were all the anger; none of ‘em had the same kinda rage Daar had.
Small blessings.
Once Daar was good and tuckered out, he dragged them off to the mess hall ‘fer some grub and ate himself full to bursting, then commiserated with his thrashed Brothers and complimented them on their ‘Back-strong improvements. It was important they didn’t get discouraged or hold him in any kind of subservient awe, so he pointed out the little nips he let them get in to soothe their wounded pride. He didn’t allow ‘em anything too big, though; he weren’t about to let ‘em think they stood any chance against him in any way. The only people that could whup him—sometimes, ‘fer now—were all aliens: Yan, Arés, Firth…and Murray, too. Somehow. The Keeda-shit crazy ninja.
…Could bestest friend Tiny still get a trick or two in? He’d need to find out some day…
Anyway. All of that felt damn good and were exactly what he needed, but balls if it didn’t suck the very last of his energy outta him. Sensing his oncoming crash, Daar attended to the last-minute business of the day, made it very clear he weren’t to be disturbed “even if my tail was on fire,” and at last managed to thump tiredly up to his quarters. It was all he could do to drag his mangy tail through the door.
Naydi was waiting for him. He felt some energy return to his body and his tail wagging of its own accord. He pant-grinned, pleased as a fat cub to see her, but she of course saw right through his honest happiness and into the weariness underneath. She didn’t say anything and she didn’t need to, she just flowed over and nuzzled him right against his nape. They held for a long time.
He could smell everything, especially that close up. Normally that bewitchin’ note he were smellin’ on Naydi would have led to the most predictablest outcome ever, but for the time being Daar was so far beyond exhausted he found himself committing somethin’ like a personal heresy.
“…Naydi, uh, don’t take this personally…but tonight I just wanna sleep.”
She duck-nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
Gods but he depended on her strength. What a blessing she was! They didn’t say much more, just padded over to their nest-bed, curled up, and lay quietly together for a nice, long time.
He was starting to feel drowsy when Naydi pounced on him, all clever like she always did.
“You had an interesting letter, Bumpkin.”
She’d taken it on herself to handle most of his personal correspondence. Daar was sure there was some kinda behind-the-scenes power struggle between her and Regaari, but right then he didn’t care. Both of ‘em knew his mind better’n he did, sometimes.
She also knew not to burden him with details, so when she decided some note was important, Daar paid very close attention.
“Oh?”
She spoke. He listened. He nodded along, growing increasingly enthusiastic with each sentence.
“I’m in,” he said.
Despite his best efforts he drifted off to sleep. He woke again sometime just before dawn, and took a moment to consider the burgeoning orange sky outside. Really, he should probably get up and sort out some of the endless demands on his time.
Instead, he curled up around Naydra and fell asleep again almost instantly.
Sometimes, even a Great Father could indulge.
Date Point: 15y6m3d AV
Riverside Park, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Master Sergeant Derek “Boss” Coombes
“Well hey, stranger.”
There was that smile. God he’d missed that smile. It lifted him right up and brought a wide grin to his own face.
Of course, he had to say hello to the dog first.
“Hey.” Derek knelt down and made a fuss of Hannah, who wriggled ecstatically around him before flopping on her back for a chest rub.
He could appreciate a lady who knew what she wanted.
Ava laughed and crouched down next to him. “So what was the delay? I thought you’d be free as soon as the Ten’Gewek were on Earth.”
Derek shrugged apologetically. “I had to secure permissions and reassure a buncha government types and… Shit, I think if I’d tried to do it all by email I’d still be stuck in my office. So I spent the whole time visiting folks in their offices instead.”
She scratched the dog. “Taking two aliens on a tour around the national parks and stuff is hard work, huh?”
“You have no idea. Got some good news for you, though. Or, well, an opportunity.”
She raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh?”
“Dinner, tomorrow. A real dinner, you and me. And a show or a movie or an art gallery or something first if you want.”
Somehow, he managed to pull off a no-big-deal, casual kinda attitude and the look on her face was completely worth it: just for a second, she was totally off-balance.
“…Wait, really?”
He grinned. “Really.”
“Like, a date?”
“A date.”
“With me?”
“With you, yes.”
She stared at him for a moment as if he’d just suggested they should go order a deep-fried groundhog.
“…Are you sure?”
He grinned wider. “Absolutely sure.”
“I thought… I mean, the Lads and…”
“Ava,” he chuckled. “Is this a yes or a no?”
“Uh… yes! It’s a yes! I’m just… I kinda figured that…” She trailed off, stared at him for a second longer, then kissed him.
Considering they were both still crouched down next to Hannah, the result was that they both fell over. She landed on his chest, and Hannah scrambled to get away then circled warily around to check they were okay.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, sorry…” She didn’t climb off him, though. “Are you okay?”
Derek rubbed the back of his head and picked a little fleck of gravel out of his hair. “That ain’t how I imagined it going.”
“Is it okay? I mean, you hit your head, that’s… and you only asked me out and I… did I read too much into—?”
“Ava.”
“…Yeah?”
It was his turn to kiss her. She melted into him with a happy sigh and considering they were both already on the ground, it lasted much longer this time.
After a while she straightened up and looked around. “I, uh… Hmm. Good thing it’s early in the morning.”
They helped each other to their feet, where she recovered her composure by adjusting her hair, and he recovered his by adjusting his clothes. She was right, one benefit of their just-after-sunrise routine was that the park was basically empty and as far as he could tell their public display of affection had gone un-witnessed.
“Whew. Uh… Hmm.” She turned to look at him and finally seemed to have got her balance back. “…Yeah. You can take me to dinner tomorrow.”
Derek snorted and laughed. “Real convincing. Very casual.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “…Really though? I… I mean, my relationship with the SOR has never been great…”
“Bro Prime stepped in and basically demanded I ask you out. I’d have done it sooner, but this was literally the first opportunity.”
“Adam did that?” She looked distant for a second. “…Wow.”
“He cares about you a lot. Said he’d smooth everything over with the Lads, and… well.” Derek shrugged. “The big bastard is pretty persuasive.”
“I bet,” she said drily, and dusted herself off. “Uh… we should probably…” she gestured down the path.
“One last favor to ask you…” Derek said, though he set off jogging alongside her.
“Uh, sure. Name it!”
“If I had, like… a message I wanted to get out. About things. A thought I wanted to share, kinda thing…”
“Like what?”
“Well… I was thinking about what you said about art. And I was thinking… artists mostly think a certain way, right? Like… your average artist is probably college educated, Left-leaning, that kinda thing.”
“Eh…you’d be surprised, but…that’s mostly what I see, yeah,” Ava agreed. “Especially the ones who do gallery shows and stuff. Who’re into the whole art scene, y’know?”
Derek nodded. “Seems to me like there’s things not being said that need to be said.”
“Maybe. If there’s something you want to say, I’d love to help, but uh… if it’s about what I think it’s about… let’s maybe talk about it later,” she suggested. She slowed her pace and reached out to take his hand. Her fingers were surprisingly warm when they interlaced with his.
“…Yeah,” he decided. “It can wait.”
Date Point: 15y6m3d AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Lieutenant-Commander Kieran Mears
Letter for notes,
RE: Technical Sergeant Adam Arés
Sergeant Arés sees me every month and his visit today was expected. Since his last visit he has enjoyed the birth of his first child. I congratulated him and we briefly touched on that subject, but he is happy, enthusiastic and optimistic in that regard: His new fatherhood seems to be a source of joy rather than stress for him.
This session was a bit unusual in that he seemed eager to talk about everything but the recent mission, and spent the first half-hour of our session reviewing his athletic achievements (faster and stronger, naturally), his academic progress (working on his Master’s thesis in sports medicine), his real estate empire (contemplating another building purchase) and so on.
He opened up when I directly pointed out his evasiveness, though he did exhibit a very brief flash of anger. He was immediately contrite, though alas I did not have the time to explore that topic.
With regards to the Operation LOST CUB, he admitted that he feels deeply conflicted about what they achieved. He states that he understands the rationale and the command decision, but tells me that rationalizing it is not helping. He says he understands and agrees that an incalculable number of lives will be saved in the long run, but again this seemed to be small comfort.
The thing that seemed to trouble him the most, however, was his relationship with the Great Father. Many of the men had a particular image of Daar which has been badly shaken by recent events. Where once there was a friendly, boisterous brother-in-arms, there is now a being who is great in all the terrible meanings of the word.
The specific words that Sergeant Arés used were “You think you know a guy, you know?” and “Makes me wonder, if Daar had that in him all along then who else?”
We shifted the discussion into Arés’ own immense propensity for aggression, which is intense even by the standards of the HEAT. Segueing into this topic seemed to give him food for thought, and brightened him considerably. He thanked me, saying “I think I know what’s been itching at me now” and departed in a much more chipper mood.
It would be helpful if I was better-acquainted with Daar, but Arés’ moment of epiphany seemed to coincide with mulling over the term ‘Great Father.’ Considering the recent change in his family circumstances, I am left to wonder what connection he has made, a conversation I look forward to having with him next month.
-Lt Cmdr K. Mears
Counsellor, HMS Sharman.
Date Point: 15y6m3d AV
City 01, Origin, The Corti Directorate
Nofl
The banner-caste system had always grated at Nofl. Summarily removing individuals from the breeding pool over their childhood and adolescent performance on standardized academic tests and personality traits was… It sneered at all the ways in which a Corti could be productive, successful, or even a genius without conforming to the Directorate’s narrow protocols.
Take Nofl himself. His adolescent assessment had described his personal foibles as “crippling.” Crippling! As though a sense of humor and a flair for the dramatic were defects! Oh, he’d shown them. He’d shown them good and hard what a Steel-banner lowlife could achieve. There were a lot of very wealthy Deans and Directors who profited from his work, and Nofl’s own credit line was historic for one of his caste.
Empirical demonstrations of the Caste system’s inadequacy didn’t come clearer or louder… but the Castes were orthodoxy. Contrary to his fantasies, all of his wild success had achieved absolutely nothing to shift the entrenched dogma.
Now, though, it seemed as though every Corti alive including the coveted echelons of the Directorate and Colleges themselves were destined to be a reproductive dead-end regardless. Every last one of them was about to be yanked firmly out of the gene pool regardless of their Banner. The Directorate’s plan was that extreme. Logical, but extreme.
“All of them? Really?”
Secondary Director Larfu confirmed it with a languid wave of his hand. “Every last one. Every reproductive facility under the Directorate’s control is to be dismantled as soon as we have a viable new template, and we are strengthening the Office of Population Control’s powers to detect and shut down unlicensed procreation.”
“And this viable template will be inspired by Human DNA,” Nofl checked.
Tertiary Director Blernd gestured a secondary display. “If necessary, we may even consider splicing in certain useful genes, as you can see here. Certain functions that have been carefully eradicated from the Corti genome may need to be reintroduced. If the Human genome provides a superior version of the same function, then why not use the best available?”
Nofl could think of a few objections, mostly involving words like ‘sanctity‘ and ‘creepy,’ but they were Steel-banner thinking, not to mention being English loan-words. The concepts they embodied were difficult indeed to express in Cortan.
“I would raise concerns about compatibility,” he said instead. “Not to mention epigenetic phenomena that may defy prediction.”
“All the more reason to build as complete a picture as we can,” Blernd said.
That was reasonable, at least. And frankly, Nofl knew that what his species needed now was to roll the dice. They would load those dice and bend the game’s rules in their favor, but they had reached the point where survival demanded risk-taking.
“Securing the requested data should not be difficult,” he predicted.
Larfu seemed pleased. “Good. We shall instruct the medical barge Continuity Correction to be ready to transit to Cimbrean. If you can secure that genome, then a demonstration of our advanced trauma surgery techniques is a small price.”
Nofl nodded, and was about to step back when a thought occurred to him. “Out of interest…” he asked, “why Human and not Gaoian DNA? They are classed as deathworlders too…”
“Only by the most, hmm… extreme interpretation of the data and lending rather more weight to certain anomalous individuals than is truly warranted considering the species and planetary average,” Blernd said. “I dislike when political expediency meddles with accurate surveys.”
“Our oh-so-accurate surveys missed a great deal of rather critical data, especially the details of their past. And need I remind the Director, those same surveys were forced to revise their rating upwards no less than thrice before settling on nine-point-nine-one-two, and then finally ten-point-two. In light of that, their reclassification hardly seems illogical, dear.”
“…We have a great deal of genetic data from the Gaoians now, in the aftermath of their war,” Larfu said, flatly ignoring the jab. “And we have uncovered… irregularities. Quite aside from the evidence of profound and widespread mutation only a few hundred generations recently, their genome is absolutely riddled with a repeating non-expressed sequence that looks intriguingly like it might be a marker of some kind.”
“Humans have something similar,” Nofl pointed out. “Though in their case it seems to be indirectly related to transcription issues that change protein shape on expressed DNA, and the regulation of expression if not expression itself.”
“All the more reason to compare and contrast,” Blernd observed. “If we are going to draw inspiration from, or even outright copy alleles from deathworlders, we need to robustly consider as much data as we can… It really is a shame we won’t be able to get a Ten’Gewek genome.”
“Fascinating people,” Nofl agreed amiably. “I only saw them from afar when they visited Folctha, but that tail is tremendously strong. They can support their bodyweight on it quite comfortably, both in tension and in compression.”
Larfu made a softly disappointed noise. “A shame you couldn’t get a closer look. Even a medical scan would be tremendously valuable…”
“I fear their guide and protector is… not well-disposed to Corti. It seems he was some idiot ‘zoologist’s’ half-baked experiment. He’s civil enough, but, well. He is in Warhorse’s orbit.”
“Ah, yes. The largest of the other set of Cruezzir monsters. After the damage done by the Human Disaster…”
“I can hardly be held accountable for other people misusing my invention, can I?” Nofl waved a hand airily. “Besides, it wouldn’t really be accurate or fair to call the HEAT ‘monsters.’ They’re…”
“Tame monsters?” Blernd suggested, archly.
“Hardly. Civilized may be a better term.” He ventured a brief flash of his most disarming smile. “And after all, the Directorate did approve the development of Cruezzir-Derivative. Both variants are performing optimally, I might add. Though I do wonder…do the Humans know the full details of what you put into the product, hmm?”
“They can make their own deductions,” Larfu retorted. “Now. I believe we have a price the Humans will consider fair for this surgery?”
“Viable genetics across a broad sampling of their genome, including anomalous samples and stem cells,” Nofl nodded. “I can attest that what they call the HeLa strain has some truly fascinating properties, too. Alas, my laboratory isn’t equipped to plumb its deepest mysteries.”
“And the surgery itself? It would be… unfortunate if the patient did not survive. Our reputation and future opportunities are at stake.”
Nofl reassured the director with a distracted flap of his hand. “Oh, yes, the surgery will be trivial. It’s just a heart transplant and some peripheral tissue regeneration. Between the patient’s Deathworlder physiology and the hefty dose of Cruezzir-Derivative already in her system I can’t foresee that she’ll suffer anything worse than disorientation.”
“Excellent. Then make it so. We shall prepare our baseline ‘Mother Prime’ and ‘Father Prime’ and await further input. And…we will re-examine the Gaoian genome in light of your advice. There is a potential line of profit to be exploited there, if their Goldpaw Champion can be convinced.”
“Of course, Director. I’ll take my leave.”
Thus, Nofl’s meeting with the great and powerful was over, at least for now. He strolled languidly back toward the Directorate transport humming a jaunty tune to himself and taking a quiet delight in the strange looks his anomalous behaviour earned him.
“Mother Prime and Father Prime?” He shook his head in disbelief as he muttered the words to himself. Hopefully the coming New Corti paradigm would have more of a sense of imagination.
It was too much to hope that they might delve through the species’ most ancient archives and dig up whatever long-forgotten fable had filled the same role in Corti society as Adam and Eve had in Western Human society. That kind of lore was long gone.
But then again… perhaps that just meant they had the chance to write it from new.
Food for thought.