Part 13: Fighting Fire With Fire

Urbemavis. The capital of the Kilon Federation. Home to the Kilon Federation Legislature, the Q'ilarunidis, and Executive Council, the Cipitrumocula. More important, though, than even those bastions of democratic power, are the brokers.

No broker in Urbemavis held more power than Mertomco. His apartment was the penthouse of the city’s tallest building. From his open air terrace, he could survey the government district, a theater of actors who functioned solely with his direction. No legislation, no appointments, no action was decided without his influence.

Kilons revere the art of the negotiation, and no one was more shrewd and nuanced than Mertomco. His current situation, like that of the sprawling Federation, was shaped by the Kilos-Redipsilon War.

The war represented a failure of the virtue that Kilons hold most dear, not freedom or liberty, but consensus. When a conflict arose between a Kilon colony and a Redipsilon world, the Kilon brokers sent in to negotiate failed to realize that their opponent did not want to be bargained with. Total war engulfed a Kilon Federation that had never dealt with such a thing.

The brokers’ failure to prevent the war nearly led to the destruction of Kilos itself, but it was Mertomco’s skills that proved to be its salvation. He brought in the Terran Republic, and when it seemed as all would be lost, he was the lead Kilon negotiator on the Star Base Luna Pact.

The Star Base Luna Pact was the crown jewel in Mertomco’s career. It was the foundation for a galaxy where Kilon interests would come first, and where Kilos would no longer be threatened by an alien invader. It allowed the Kilon Federation to take control of the most powerful entity in the galaxy, the Terran Republic, all without a single shot fired from a Kilon weapon.

As Mertomco stood on his terrace, surveying the civilization he saved. He wore a simple tunic, allowing the wind to caress his bright green feathers. He gripped the railing, thoughtlessly clucking his beak. He was ill at ease. The future he created was more fragile than many could know. He was pulled from his thoughts by his assistant stepping out of the apartment.

“Sir, the attaché from the Terran Affairs Department has arrived, shall I show her in?”

Mertomco turned slightly and gave a nod. “Bring her to the terrace, would you please.”

“As you wish,” the assistant said, bowing as he left. He returned a moment later with a proper looking young Kilon. She wore tightly wrapped linen of bright blue, a contrast to her deep red feathers, and a purple sash indicating her position in the bureaucracy. Jewels encrusted on her beak showed the prestige of her family.

Mertomco turned away from the railing, gesturing towards a group of wicker furniture. “Please, Phallos, have a seat,” he said, making himself comfortable in a high backed chair.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling a datapad from her briefcase.

“Refreshments?” Mertomco asked.

“No, I won’t be here long,” she said. Mertomco nodded to his assistant, who bowed and quietly went back inside.

“Since you said this will not take long, I will dispense with the pleasantries. Are the rumors I’ve been hearing true?”

Phallos laid her materials down on the table and looked him straight in the eye. “The rumors of a resistance developing amongst the Terrans? Yes, that is true. The increase in pirate attacks along the Kilon/Terran trade routes? It appears to be the work of an anti-Kilon group who call themselves the Freedom Flyers.”

“And this is the same group that hit the Pillar of Hercules?”  

“Yes. We captured 15 mercenaries from the raid; they provided us with a great deal of information.”

“And how is this playing on Earth?”

“The major media outlets reported it as a thwarted criminal attack on a non-descript freighter. However, we have had some difficulty with underground information distribution. There are rumblings on Earth, agitators are finding traction with their message that we are oppressors.”

Mertomco stood up. He was not someone who allows his emotions to show too often. As a negotiator, he maintained an impeccable façade of calm, he melted into the background, he let others get to the place he had predetermined, and he made them think it was their idea. But here, in his sanctuary, he indulged in his frustration.

“Oppressed? Oppressed? We liberated them from the volatile stagnation of their own politics and leadership. Oppressed? Our arrangement has allowed them to flourish economically. Oppressed? We rule with a light touch, we protect humans from themselves. We have given them peace on a scale they could not have imagined. We took away the instrument with which they would have destroyed themselves. How is that oppression?”

Phallos shifted nervously in her seat. “I don’t know…”

Mertomco collected himself. “I apologize for my outburst,” he said, sitting back down. “Back to the Pillar of Hercules attack, what is the status of the SPARK Project?”

“There was a large data dump on the bridge during the attack. Technicians have not been able to determine how much information was copied.”

“I see… I see… That project is vital to the future growth of the Federation… We must assume that it has been compromised by these… terrorists” Mertomco stood back up, and began to pace around the terrace, walking behind Phallos. She nervously followed him with her eyes, ready to note whatever he said. “What do we know of humans?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”
            “How do you relate humans? How does one bring humans to a consensus?”

“They respond to strength.”

“No.” Mertomco stopped in front of her. “They respond to force. They fight over everything. Resources, settlements, even minor differences in religious beliefs drive humans to fight. Across the galaxy, independent human planets are constantly warring with each other. We brought peace to the largest of human civilizations, the Terran Republic. We freed them from their destructive cycle.”

He began to pace again, talking more to himself than Phallos. “We value mutual benefit, consensus, they value force. Perhaps it is time to show them force.”

“Sir?”

“Contact your superiors, tell them I advise that we deploy the fleet.”

“The Kilon Expeditionary Force is already stretched across shipping routes, attempting to engage-”

“No, the other fleet. The Cipitrumocula will know what I’m talking about. We have shown humans kindness. Now we must show them we understand force. Have the interrogators learned where the terrorist’s base of operations is?”

            She looked at her datapad. “No sir, we do not have that information.”

            “Turn up the pressure on the prisoners.”

            “Our interrogators have been questioning them around the clock…”

            “And the questioning has not yielded crucial information. Again, turn up the pressure…”

            “Are you advocating we torture them?”  

            “No,” he smiled, “speak to them in the language they understand… force. We must root out these insurgents, thoroughly destroy where they nest, and tell others that we will not tolerate any resistance.”

He walked back to the railing, and motioned for Phallos to join him. “Look to the south,” he pointed at an area of the city that was littered with construction equipment.

“What is it, sir?” she asked.

“It’s been nearly 20 years, yet we are still rebuilding. When we have a conflict with a fellow Kilon, both sides know that we will work to an agreement. But dealing with humans, there is no such guarantee. I have done too much to ensure the survival of our people, of this planet. Humans have shown that they are willing to resort to force, rather than respond to reason. We have been gentle, but they must know we will meet their aggression, no matter how small, with the only message they seem to understand, unrelenting strength.” He slammed his hand on the railing. “Never again will we allow our society to come to the brink of ruin. We learned our lessons. The blood we’ve spilled, the lives we lost, will not have been in vain. If the Terrans want to threaten our peace, our prosperity, we will burn them to the ground.”

“Sir?” Phallos asked, “Do you mean…”

“Never again will we suffer,” he replied, angrily turning to her, “never again will we look into the abyss.”

“But…”

“NEVER AGAIN!”