rws2871

[rws2871]

The Mercy Of Humans - Chapter 2: To Do The Right Thing

“Breaking news from Confederation space,” I watched as the media talking head looked appropriately concerned/serious. “The Dal’tari system’s star has become unstable, throwing off massive coronal ejections, solar flares, and deadly radiation. The Dalutian people’s home planet, Umsarrat, has been severely affected. So far, we know that their entire space-based infrastructure inside their asteroid belt has been destroyed. The solar flares and the accompanying heat have caused near irreparable damage to their ecosystem. Jane?”

“Volume up. Expand image.” I ordered. The smart screen on the bulkhead of the cargo ship’s tiny mess hall complied. The pre-recorded image enlarged from 1.5 meters wide to five, taking up the entire wall and the volume doubled. The off-duty crew of the TCS Star Wanderer all watched intently.

“Thank you, Ahmed,” the cohost continued. “This news is over a week old, but these solar flares started about fifteen standard days ago. I warn you; these images are disturbing. As you can see their crops have been wiped out either by sudden drought or the massive hurricanes the change in the weather patterns have spawned over the past week.”

I was shocked at the scenes of devastation. The scorched croplands, dead livestock, floods and landslides were bad enough, but seeing the injured Dalutians was heartbreaking. So many of the birdlike people suffered critical burns and the video showed authorities loading bodies onto floater-trucks. Most were small, the children of the world had suffered the worst.

“Damn, lookit that!” Bob exclaimed with his New Texas twang. “That hurricane must be five thousand clicks wide. It’s bigger than the damned continent.”

“Hate to see kids suffer like that,” I said.

“Reports are the Dalutians have requested aid from the Galactic Confederation, but so far it seems they have been left alone to deal with the crisis,” the cohost said. “Stay tuned. More news after the break.”

“Remember the Cascabel colony? About what, fifty years ago? Lost ever’one,” Bob scratched his scruffy red beard. “Men, women, kids. My dad was on the ship that found it.”

“That was a mutated virus, right?” Angela Chan asked. “Like some sort of super flu?”

“Sumptin like that. Dunno,” Bob drawled. “I ain’t a scientist ‘r historian. I just know it still haunts my dad. Finding a billion dead people like that.”

“Seems the Gallies are dragging their feet,” their chief engineer Xi Kai Lin said with a cold sneer. “Tough luck for them.” Most humans felt some degree of dislike for the Galactic Federation and its byzantine bureaucracy. But the short woman hated them with a passion. About twenty years ago, her brother had been killed by the Tloung-hi trade consortium. The short war that followed had not satisfied the woman. She vocally supported taking down the whole Confederation and its moribund ways.

“That’s a bit harsh.” I was unsurprised at her reaction. And though I knew it was a bit useless, I tried to reason with her. “The Dalutians are decent folk, from all I have heard.”

“Not our problem,” Lin retorted.

“I wonder if the Alliance will send aid?” Angela said.

The Terran Alliance was a loose federation consisting of fifty-two human systems. The Constitution was written to vest most of the governmental powers vested in the systems and planets. The Federal government of more a guiding body than a rulemaking one. Only when dealing with foreign governments, interstellar trade, and disasters did the federal government have complete authority.

“Not bloody likely,” Lin snarled. “And why should we?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” I countered.

“I mislike standing by while little’uns die,” Bob drawled. “Not like they got much a’choice over their government, eh?”

“Lin, it is one thing to seek justice. We got that when we went to war with the Tloung-hi. But you just want revenge and that isn’t right. The way I see it, kindness should be the natural way of life, not the exception,” I said. “Compassion is what sets us apart from the beasts. We have a full cargo of food and supplies those people could really use.”

“Whatever. It is not your call. You aren’t the captain,” Lin finished with a grim smile, thinking she won the argument.

“No. But the captain is his cousin, and the ship is owned by their family,” Angel said. “That makes him a part owner, too. Seems he might have a bit of a say after all.”

I tapped my wrist computer to open a com channel to the bridge, “Davis, you got a moment?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a dull day. Not much happening. What’s up?” the captain answered.

Davis and I were about the same age and were very close. But we did not let our relationship interfere with the running of the ship.

“Did you see the news about the Dal’tari system?”

“It came across the news channels a bit ago when we hit the last waypoint,” Davis answered. “Why?”

Ships in hyperspace could not change direction. They had to drop out of hyperspace and realign to the new heading before going back crossing back into hyper.

“If we dropped out of hyper and reset, we could be there in what, four days or so?” I could hear him typing queries into the navigation computer.

“About that. Where are you going with this? Or should I be afraid to ask?”

“We have a few million tons of food and supplies those folks really need. It might cost us a bit to cover the breach of contracts with the deliveries. But, if we pressed the good publicity angle, I think most of our clients would support it. Plus, it would be a huge tax write-off.”

“That is a bit above my pay grade. But let me run it up the flagpole and see what the boss says. Prepare to drop out of hyper.”

FTL travel was commonplace and so was FTL communications. But the oddities of the two technologies was that you could not use FTL coms while in hyperspace.

“Have grand-mère put the question to the board. And then have her ask the commerce leagues if they want to join us.”

“You are sure we will get the approval?” Davis was skeptical.

“Come on, you know grand-mère. Good Catholics serve those in the most need. I don’t think anyone in the galaxy has more need right now. She will browbeat the board if she has too.”

Catholic teachings support their giving as an expression of God's love, which leads to a love for one another. I have to admit, I am not that good a Catholic, which always disappointed grand-mère. But I always try spread kindness where he could.

“Maybe you should comm her. Might have a bit more weight coming from a lapsed Catholic like you. Maybe she would think you finally pulled your head outta your ass.”

“Gee thanks. What the hell, I might as well,” he stopped and looked chagrined. “Perhaps not the best turn of phrase, eh? Fine, I will be right up.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Lin groused.

“We can drop you off at New Damascus, if you want,” I said as he left the mess hall.

Cargo ships were by necessity, huge. Larger than the largest warships. But most of the mass was dedicated to cargo holds that were open to space. It was pointless to maintain atmosphere where the crew never needed to go. With a crew of only thirty, the crew spaces were actually very small. The bridge was directly above the mess hall and a quick trip up a narrow ladder, and he was sitting next to the captain.

The bridge was tiny. Warships had large bridges because they needed them, but cargo ships bridges needed space for only a captain, navigator, helmsman and communications. There was an engineering console, but the engineer spent his time in the powerplant or engine room.

“Drop us out of hyper,” Davis commanded.

The helmsman, a young native of Mars named Gabriel Marshall, did not answer but everyone on the ship felt the brief gut-wrenching nausea of breaking the hyperwall as they dropped into normal space. The experienced crew just grimaced and went back to work. Only novices complained.

“Open a channel to home, please Helen,” I asked our communications tech.

FTL comms were tiny wormholes that opened from one discreet point to another. Even their pinhole size required a massive energy output that only a large ship or planet could provide.

“Hello, Star Wanderer,” a voice sounded over the bridge speakers. “What can I do for you?”

“Who is speaking, please,” Davis requested.

“Allíz, dumbass.”

“Allíz? Last I heard you were on the Starsong,” I said.

“Ollie, is that you? Yeah, I was. But then I accidentally got pregnant,” she chuckled. “So, I am stuck at the home office for the next few years.”

It was against company rules for pregnant women to work on starships. The risks to a fetus during space travel were too much to ignore, especially if the woman was family.

“How is Édouard taking it? That is your fourth??

“Fifth. You need to get home more if you cannot keep track of your brother’s kids.”

“Give me a break. I have seven brothers and six sisters. I can barely keep track of my own kids,” I retorted.

“I will make sure and tell Chimere that.”

“Please don’t. That last thing I need is my wife mad at me. But seriously, how is he taking it? He just made captain, but he should take some time off to be at home with you.”

“He is excited. It will be his first girl. He should be home next month and take a year off. Donatienne made sure of that. Your grand-mère is death on any of her boys not being a good father.”

“Speaking of grand-mère. I need to talk to her.”

“Umm. It is 3 a.m. here. Is it important?”

I thought about it for less than a second. “Yes. Go ahead and wake her and patch me through.”

“Well, if she gets mad about it, it will be two months before we get home. Plenty of time for her to get over it,” Davis chided.

“Okay, but it is totally on the two of you if she gets pissed. Connecting now.”

A short period of silence followed before a woman’s tired voice spoke, “Hello, Oliver, Davis. What has gone so wrong that you needed to wake me up so early?”

“Good morning, grand-mère,” I answered. “I am sorry to wake you up but, yes, this is important. Have you seen the news out of Confederation space about the Dal’tari system?”

“Something about a solar flare? I did not pay too much attention to it. I had too much on my plate the past few weeks. What of it?”

“Not a solar flare, grand-mère. More a coronal mass ejection. Dozens of them. It has caused a lot of damage to their system.”

“And you think we can get some products there and get in early on the market?” I heard the interest in her voice.

“No. This is something we have not seen before grand-mère. We are talking the death of a planet and all the people on it. Billions of lives. I just saw footage of hundreds of dead bodies, mostly children. There is no possible way they can evacuate the entire planet and they have no food, little clean water. Where there are no hurricanes and floods, there are such high temperatures that nothing can live.

“I think we need to divert our cargo there. Even get more if we can. Portable power plants, prefab shelters, food, water purification systems, medicine… they need it all.”

“Your cargo can barely put a dent in what they need, Oliver,” she replied. “I have your manifest here. Most of it is useless for a rescue or relief effort.”

“I think we can stop off at New Damascus and offload what they don’t need and load up on what they do,” Davis put in. It was nice to know he was backing me up. “Plus, New Damascus has some of the best medical researchers in the galaxy. They can figure out what medicines the Dalutians need.”

“Still, one ship, even one as large as a Star Caravan, cannot do much.”

“So, you get more. We have thirty of our ships within a week’s travel time. Call up all the other shipping conglomerates. Contact the commerce leagues and Captain’s Guild. You are on Terra. You can contact Yves. He would never have been elected without our support. Have him talk to the Prime Minister. This falls under the Federation’s Constitution. He can mobilize a response.”

“But why would he? I can appreciate what you want to do. But realistically? There is likely not much going to happen. At least not soon.”

“Grand-mère, you told me once when I was a small boy, ‘Doing the right thing is always doing the right thing. Even if nobody else is doing it, if you know in your heart that it is right, follow your heart.’ This is the right thing.”

“I agree, grand-mère,” Davis added. “Probably at no other time in our lives will we be faced with something like this. Either we stand up and do the right thing, or we have lived a life of lies.”

“And if Uncle Claude has any gripes, remind him that all of this makes a great tax write off,” I said.

There was silence for long enough that I began to feel she would not agree. My head swirled with dozens of other arguments. I was willing to go it alone if necessary.

“You are right, boys. You should not have had to work so hard to convince me. Head to New Damascus. I will contact Adaeze Otueome. We went to college together, so long ago. She is the president of Erinlẹ Pharmaceuticals. They have a research and production facility there. I will get Yves to work on the government, though I have little hope on that front.”

“If you get the commerce leagues and Captain’s Guild on our side, then the government will likely join in, even if it is just sending navy hospital ships,” I offered. “Gus Van der Waal is the president of the Guild. Uncle Emil is good friends with him. Get Emil up and talking.”

“Have my wife call Grace Kobliska,” Davis said. “She is a producer on Good Morning, Sol. Something this big deserves media attention. And maybe it can put some pressure on the Prime Minister and the Guild.”

“I will. Head to New Damascus. I will have Operations set up the cargo shift and make sure you have what you need and get some other ships diverted. And boys? I am proud of the two of you. I love you both.”

“We love you, too,” I replied as the circuit cut off.

“Do you think they will sign on for it?” Hellen asked. I had forgotten about the rest of the bridge crew.

“Grand-mère can talk a rock into moving,” Davis replied. “It may take a while, but she is persistent.”

“Not to mention scary when she is pissed. Hell hath no fury like Donatienne Pierre when she does not get her way.” I had seen it before. All it took was the one time for me to decide I never, ever wanted her that pissed at me.

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[rws2871]

The Mercy Of Humans - Chapter 1: The Golden Rule

I had heard about humans. Everyone in the Galactic Confederation knew about humans. Descended from predators, they were often violent, even to each other. They were contrary, illogical, confrontational and worse, easily angered. In the three hundred narns since the humans discovered FTL, they had dozens of armed confrontations with many peoples, including several Confederation members.

Once, they had gone to war with a trade consortium because the Tloung-hi had blockaded the Ublot’s home system. A human cargo ship had contracts to deliver products to the Ublots and when they attempted to do so, the Tloung-hi destroyed them.

The Tloung-hi were unprepared for what happened next. Humans have a fetish for something they call ‘free trade.’ Add to that, humans as a whole took offense to the Tloung-hi destroying that one ship. You would have thought they were of the same nest but most of their people did not even know the names of the thirty some humans who died.

Several hundred human warships descended upon the Ublot system and completely destroyed the Tloung-hi blockade and then proceeded to hunt down any Tloung-hi ship within fifty light years. They only stopped when the Tloung-hi capitulated, offered financial restitution, and agreed to never attack a human vessel again. Needless to say, after losing more than a hundred ships, the Tloung-hi were fully prepared for the third demand.

When the Confederation offered the humans membership, the humans refused, citing the laws of the Confederation were incompatible with their Constitution, something about universal rights. I do not completely understand it all. But the Confederation leaders, those with real power, decided to isolate the humans and refused them passage in Confederation space. That did not work. The humans still travelled brazenly in Federation space and no members desired to challenge them militarily.

I sat outside the ruins of my home, holding my youngest hatchling, wondering when she would take her last breath. I was not alone. All over my planet, other parents did the same. Some already mourned.

It had been thirty-nine days since a series of solar flares had decimated my home system. Overnight, the planet’s infrastructure was completely destroyed. There was no power and little clean water. Crops failed and livestock died. What land not suffering severe drought was subjected to monsoons or hurricanes. Some of these hurricanes spanned entire continents.

In space, all our orbital platforms had failed. The largest had even crashed to the ground. Further out, past the fifth planet and in the asteroid fields, some platforms and factories survived. But not enough to help. We asked the Confederation for help but so far, none has come. Oh, they had promised to help. They claimed it would just take time.

Not in time to save billions of lives. Not in time to save my little Y’dochka. Tears fell down my face as I looked at my little girl. Her feathers had fallen out days ago. Her skin burned and painful to the touch. She occasionally regained consciousness, smiling up at me. Touching my face. Breaking my heart even further. I was helpless to save her.

I heard the crack of a distant sonic boom, then another. Dozens more followed. I looked up to see dozens, no hundreds of flaming paths as more debris entered the atmosphere. What now? More destruction? What had we done to displease the gods so?

But it was not debris crashing down. The objects slowed, changed directions and slowly I could see the outline of shuttlecraft. Ships I had never seen before. I stared in wonder as a second wave of booms cracked through the blistering heat. As far as the eye could see, ships dropped from space.

I felt a twinge of hope as one separated from the pack and slowed to a gentle stop over my home. Gracefully, almost delicately, the ship touched down. Steam hissed from exhaust ports and I could see the heat shimmering above the giant shuttle as the rear ramp lowered and dozens of beings ran out. Some pulling grav-pallets of cargo. One ran up to me and stopped.

Humans were the boogeymen of the Confederation . Nobody crossed them. Nobody really trusted them. Only criminals consorted with them.

Everyone knew that. I thought that. But I was wrong.

“Here,” the large human said as he dropped to my side. He had some sort of device on his shoulder that translated his words. “I have a medpac. We can save her.”

“But your medpacs will not work on Dalutians,” I answered. I dared not allow myself to hope.

“We planned for that,” the human waved a flashing metal wand over my child. “These medpacs are designed for your people. With the solar flares and your physiology, we knew we would need medicine for the burns and infections. Artificial skin to cover the worst. It has built in painkillers. But she needs fluids. I took a crash course on how to start IVs for your people.”

I must have looked stupid to the human. I just could not accept what was happening.

“Here. You are not as bad as her, but need some fluids, too. This has concentrated electrolytes and medicine to help you. Food will be ready pretty soon.”

The pouch he handed me, and it was a he as I had read that only their males had facial hair, was full of a cold fluid. I took the straw and drank greedily as I watched the man tend to my daughter. As he did, others dragged pallet after pallet out of the shuttle. Some started assembling some sort of prefabricated buildings while others ran through my little village, offering help where they found the need.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I have nothing to repay you.”

“No need. We came to help.”

“But why? You are not part of the Confederation. My people have rarely even encountered yours.”

“So? You needed help. We had help to give,” the human never stopped treating Y’dochka. He had pierced the large artery in her left leg with a needle attached to a bag of greenish fluid. “Right now, there are over fifty cargo vessels in orbit with relief supplies and a dozen Nightingale class hospital ships. Once my people have the hospital built, we can treat the worst of your injured.”

“Even the Confederation could not… did not send this kind of help.”

“Shit, this is just the first wave. In a day or so, a hundred more ships will be here, then even more after that.”

“Your government sent so much?” I was dumbfounded.

“No. I mean, some of them are Terran Navy, maybe six cargo ships and all the Nigthingales. The rest are private ships with volunteers and donations from my people to yours.”

“Again, why? We are not allies. Your people even dislike the Confederation.”

“One, your people are not the Confederation. And two, we do not need allies. Alliances are political things and allies can betray you when it is in their best interest. We find that having friends is better.”

“But we are not friends.”

“We weren’t. But we are now. My name is Oliver Pierre.”

“I am Lakhul Solmnar. My daughter is Y’dochka. You said that most of your people are civilians?”

“Yep. An odd bag, too. Got two ships of nuns from the Sisters of Charity, four ships full of Mormons. They always show up where there are disasters. Two ships from New Damascus. They provided most of the medical supplies. About a dozen ships full of the crazy Vikings from Ny Österlen. They are the closest to your planet. And a bunch more.”

“I still find it hard to believe. Just… why you would help us.”

“There is a saying among some of my people. We call it the Golden Rule. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ Then there are others that believe in karma. Hell, old David over there was Boy Scout. He always says to do one good deed every day.”

“I do not know this word, karma.”

“It is a belief that the good or bad you do in this life determines your next one. Put simply, ‘What goes around comes around.’ I don’t quite know if reincarnation is real. But why take a chance, eh?”

I did not know what to think. It was all so alien.

“Ok. I have Y’dochka stabilized. We can move her to the hospital. She might need to go up to one of the ships for full treatment. These burns look pretty bad.”

The human carefully picked up my daughter as if she was a precious toy. My people were barely half the size of humans.

I followed him as he trotted to this freshly built hospital. Everywhere I looked, humans were doing the same for others in my village. I felt hope for the first time in weeks.

Yes, humans were a bit scary. They were huge and powerful. They were descended from predators. Maybe they are a bit prone to violence at the smallest provocation, or even contrary, illogical, and confrontational. I say, so what? In our time of need, when our allies sent platitudes and empty promises, when the trade consortiums waited to pick over the corpse of our system, the humans sent help. Out of all the known peoples in the galaxy, only the humans showed up in our time of need.

I tell you that the humans are also kind, compassionate, selfless, and even friendly, though I still do not understand their humor.

Allies? The human was right. My people needed less allies and more friends. From this day forth, I would thank the gods for that lesson.

#scifi #original story #oc story #original characters #original fiction #original work #part 1