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Grass Eaters | 18 | First Contact
🕑 Added 2024-03-05 00:20:48 +0000 UTCMFS Pesmod
“You are Grass Eaters.”
“Hmmm… not quite,” the tall alien said with a somewhat-recognizable smirk, her words converted smoothly through their translator into a high-pitched voice with a Malgeirgam accent so pure it reminded Niblui of a female Federation Channel One reporter. Niblui knew people in politics who went to school to learn to talk like that. “One of my great-grandmothers was a vegetarian though.”
“You? Your great-grandmother? Huh?” Ambassador Niblui tilted her head in confusion.
The Grass Eater chuckled. “That was a joke. We’re not an herbivore species, no. What gave you that idea?”
“Your teeth!” Niblui extended her claw to gesture. “They’re for grass-eating! And where are your natural claws?!”
Grinning, the alien revealed their full set of teeth to the alien ambassador, pointing specifically at their modest upper canines. “What? I’ve still got these. Grrrrr!”
“Okay, okay. Stop scaring our new friends, Amelia.” To her left, another alien also took off its helmet to reveal a slightly more wrinkled alien with raven-black scalp fur cut short at the shoulders. She kept her mouth full of blunt teeth closed as much as possible, but Niblui was not fooled. The second alien said, “Hello, my name is Cindy Tsai. My people address me as Minister Tsai, head of our newly established Office of Alien Affairs. And my friend is Vice Admiral Amelia Waters. We apologize for taking these measures to board your ship, but we are a secretive species, and it was critical that this contact mission was kept a secret.”
Niblui’s eyes blinked in sequence as she tried to process and recall her First Contact training. No one really had to use it for decades — besides the few very unsuccessful attempts to conduct diplomacy with the Znosians.
A memory of her late mentor’s advice flickered in her mind: the most important factor in determining the relationship in first contact was fair reciprocation of information. That formed the basis of any rational diplomacy. While ruses could give short-term gains, no connection or agreement established between two species based on lies and mistrust would give worthy advantages in the long run.
Well, between two civilized species, at least.
Based on historical experiences, a rocky first contact could scar decades — if not centuries — of diplomatic efforts. No pressure, she thought, staring at the technologically advanced, weaponry-packed aliens. Aliens who claimed to be friendly.
Even if they seem to be… Grass Eaters in denial?
It really was not a good sign, she thought, that they started out their First Contact with a bald-faced lie about their nature. Then again, we’ve had a sample size of exactly one. It would not be logical to apply that fear… even if the thought of negotiating with what seemed to be a prey species felt odd, almost distasteful. It felt… simply unnatural. She wondered how much of that bias was innate and how much of it was earned through social memory from a decade of war.
Pushing the uncivilized bigotry aside, she straightened up and mustered her professionalism to do her job.
“I am Ambassador Niblui. Welcome aboard the Pesmod,” she said, trying to sound as welcoming as she could. “We, the Malgeir, are a peaceful species. Your boarding action was no trouble at all; I am grateful you exercised restraint towards our ship’s crew members. Every species has different First Contact protocols, though we do prefer to use our radios.”
Then she waited for the alien translators to do their job, but the reply came quickly from the one known as Minister Tsai. “Greetings, esteemed Ambassador Niblui. Despite the uh… awkward circumstances, we humans of the Terran Republic are a peaceful species as well. We seek cooperative diplomatic relations with your species. However, we understand this will be challenging considering your ongoing conflict with another alien species.”
“The Znosians,” Niblui said, trying to gauge the aliens’ reaction. She decided that even though they were closeted Grass Eaters or in serious denial about their own biology, it would not be good to antagonize them by slinging around that derogatory slur. Much safer to just stick with the official name.
“Yes,” the Terran minister confirmed. “We learned of their existence shortly before you did, about a decade ago. We, too, are appalled by their violent and repulsive actions against your people and several other species. Please accept our Republic’s condolences for your losses in the ongoing war.”
A decade? How long have they known about us?
“Thank you. You seem to know a lot about us, Terran,” Niblui replied. She took one look at the aliens — and their guns — and realized she had a golden opportunity here. “Are you aware of the nature of my current mission?”
“We believe so, Ambassador. You are returning from a uh… solicitation event in Schprissian space for ships and military equipment for the war effort, correct?”
Niblui inhaled deeply, her snout flaring. “Precisely,” she confirmed. Launching into a passionate speech she’d repeated many times — with slight, on the fly adjustments — she proclaimed, “We are the bulwark of all civilized species in the galaxy against the savagery of the… Znosian menace. We alone fight on the frontlines, protecting not just our own, but the very fabric of life itself from the threat of the— of the Znosians…”
As she laid out her case, Minister Tsai listened attentively. When Niblui finally paused for breath, Tsai gently responded, “Yes, we are aware of your requests towards your close friends.”
Amelia, however, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, teased, “The spiel I heard from the interception was slightly different. More mentions of the grassthirsty enemies and how uncivilized it was to—”
Minister Tsai gave Amelia a pointed look but turned to Niblui. “We do intend to assist you in the war effort. That is why we initiated the First Contact. However, you should know our resources are limited: our colonies are few, our fleets small, and our ships aren’t really built for anyone but our people—”
Niblui’s rapidly beating heart sank as she heard this. She’d heard the same excuses from so many.
Too many.
Breaking the diplomatic niceties, she burst out, “Look, we’re grateful for any help, but what we truly need are ships, resources, and military technology. We do not know where your home planet is, but assuming it’s not far from here with a blink drive, you will end up on their menu sooner or later. The Znosians’ hunger for new species to exterminate is demonstrably insatiable. If you can help us stop them, that would save your species from a devastating war against them, too.”
Tsai’s expression softened. “You misunderstand us, Ambassador Niblui. We are happy to join you on the battlefield: we are preparing to dedicate many of our ships to assist you in the war. The ships will, however, be crewed by Terran spacers, at least initially…”
Niblui was barely able to conceal her look of shock. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Only the Granti had fought alongside the Malgeir, and that was because they had a centuries-long relationship built on trust and cooperation. Strangers offering to fight your battles…
Tsai went on, “We understand this is not standard practice in this… region of space, as most peaceful species are highly averse to interstellar war. However, our ships were designed for our own physiology, and we feel that your spacers would be most effective in your own ships as ours would be.”
Niblui struggled for a precedent. In ancient historical times, there was some archaeological evidence that some factions on Malgeiru fought battles on behalf of others for payment.
What was that word again? Ah!
Her eyes lit up. “I see. A fleet of mercenaries. We are, of course, happy to provide payment in the form of goods, services, and technology in exchange for… your mercenary warriors. Perhaps even leased territory if your people are interested? The only exceptions that we cannot allow for payment are involuntary labor from intelligent beings and a small list of banned contraband items. Anything else is on the table. Which do you desire and what uh— what length and level of service are usually provided by your people?”
Minister Tsai fingered her tablet, pulling up a document with a few taps. “Ahem. Naturally, we will respect your restrictions and laws. We, too, have similar ones regarding those subjects. But you might have misunderstood my offer: it is a gift — given freely. Or perhaps, if you would see it that way, a partnership. We have no expectation of payment for ships or personnel, though we expect mutually beneficial arrangements will follow this friendship. For the war effort, we would like to build a framework of cooperation, to coordinate our military operations, logistics, and intelligence sharing.”
Not in a million years did Niblui expect this generous response, but as a career ambassador and negotiator with decades of experience, she managed to keep the disbelief from her face. “That is… most generous of you and your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated.”
“We only have one request: that our involvement and existence is kept secret for as long as possible at the highest level of your government.”
Niblui frowned, pondering the strange request. “While I am not familiar with the Navy’s operations, I worry whether such secrecy will limit the effectiveness of your help.”
“It may,” Tsai conceded wearily, “But we are a highly vulnerable species, and this threat is existential for us as well, so that is unfortunately a requirement of our participation.”
“Very well. We will respect your wishes. This is still an incredible offer, and I am personally ashamed that we can’t trade you anything in return, like our technology or—”
“You already have,” Amelia remarked with a sly chuckle. “Half our drive tech and—”
Tsai interrupted the Admiral without missing a beat, “What Admiral Waters means to say is we may have borrowed some intellectual property from your organizations that develop engine technology, among others. The matter of compensation will be resolved in our legal system, which will offer your people a fair chance to derive retroactive compensation from their hard work.”
“We understand.” Niblui smiled and dismissed it with a wave of her paw. “Technology espionage between peaceful species is commonplace and not considered an overtly hostile act. As a gesture of reciprocation, we will be happy to waive all compensation from before our First Contact as long as your people help us with this war.” She noted in her head that they wouldn’t have been able to collect on their commissions anyway if they lost the war.
“We appreciate it,” Tsai replied, looking happy to get the subject out of the way and probably hoping the chatty admiral didn’t bring up any other embarrassing observations in the First Contact meeting. She tapped on her tablet. “I’m sending over a list of folks in your government and military whom we’ve vetted and trust to know about our, let’s say, ‘hidden hand’ in this conflict. Please convey to your leadership that the absence of anyone on this list should not be interpreted as an impingement on their honor, but rather our lack of knowledge about your people.”
“May I see?” Niblui extended her open paws.
“By all means,” Tsai said, turning her tablet around to show a scrolling list of names.
Niblui’s eyes widened as she saw numerous authentic-looking Malgeirish names, even including a few she was familiar with.
“Wow, this list is extensive. How many Malgeir are there in total?” she asked after reading through a few pages.
“About ten thousand, and some are Granti leaders in exile as well.”
“That should work for us. We will ask anyone who will be made aware of your existence to swear an oath of secrecy on their lives.”
Tsai sighed in relief. “Much appreciated, Ambassador.”
“There is the matter of formalizing relations. Traditionally, we construct facilities on other species’ homeworlds to house our diplomatic personnel and vice versa. Your familiarity with diplomatic protocols makes me optimistic that this would be acceptable?”
“Indeed. We may delay the construction of our embassy on Malgeiru until the end of the war to preserve our species’ secrecy. Instead, we suggest that we place an unarmed civilian ship in your home system to handle communication diplomacy between our species there. However, we anticipate no obstacles to the immediate construction of your embassy on our homeworld or our capital world, whichever you choose. You will be provided with the necessary legal and financial resources to facilitate such a project.”
“Excellent. Once we return to Malgeiru, we will begin our selection of diplomatic personnel and a formal first delegation to your planet. We will make sure to select them from your list of trusted people.” Niblui was already picking out some reliable aides in her head. “And diplomatic ships are always respected in our systems.”
“One more thing. We have a Naval Staff College in our home system that trains spacers. We’d like to invite as many of your cadets to attend as possible, though we understand if many will not be able due to the ongoing war,” Tsai said.
Niblui felt her whiskers twitch in puzzlement. What a strange requirement, Niblui thought. Maybe they have a population shortage and needed Malgeir Navy personnel to supplant their spacers on their ships? The Navy will surely object to such a drain of personnel. Nonetheless, it’s not a good idea to risk angering our new… friends over such a trivial issue. She tried to stall while thinking of an excuse. “Hmm. How long are we talking about for the training?”
Amelia stepped in to answer the question. Interesting. She must be their Navy’s representative. “Command officers will go through a two-year instruction program, though that can be shortened to fourteen months for experienced command personnel if they are able to pass a standard examination and demonstrate field expertise.”
“Years!” Niblui exclaimed, wondering if she was hearing the translation in the correct time units. “Seriously? Our training programs are much shorter. Captain Pliont, how long was yours?”
Pliont who had mostly kept quiet, replied dutifully, “Three or four days, if I remember correctly. Back in the Navy— in our Navy, we learned most things on the job.”
“And that,” Amelia snorted, air-jabbing a finger at him, “is why you are losing the war. No offense, Captain. But, for years, I have watched inexperienced spacers from your Navy repeatedly die to mistakes and bad habits that an amateur wargamer would cringe at. Minister, tell them.”
Tsai cleared her throat. “Your lack of training is one of the few deficiencies we’ve identified with your fleets. We would be more comfortable working with your Navy if we could know for sure that the personnel are trained by Terran instructors. We would provide the training material free of charge. All we would ask is that your government fill the limited number of seats with motivated cadets.”
Niblui blinked, still a bit stunned by the insistence. She asked, “What about your secrecy?”
“The cadets will also have to be sworn to silence and their communication back home will be carefully monitored. We anticipate that by the time they finish training, this will become a moot issue anyway. This training program is important to us, and to your success on the battlefield, and we think your government should take it seriously and send us the best people you can.”
“Certainly,” Niblui replied. She didn’t understand why the Terrans wanted to train their spacers so much, but if this was the only compromise they needed to make, this would be one of the easiest friendships in Federation history. “We would be happy to fill your training… seats with willing cadets. I’m sure I can convince the Fleet Council to pay for them as well, though they may need a demonstration of the value of sending their veteran officers.”
“You are an agreeable species. We look forward to working more with you in the future,” Minister Tsai complimented.
Niblui beamed back at her, pleased. “And you are a generous species without equal.”
Right on cue, Niblui noticed that another one of their people strolled back into the dining hall and gave Amelia a subtle nod. Amelia caught the signal and turned to Captain Pliont. “Captain, we’ve re-enabled your ship systems and refueled your blink drive with enough to get to the next station with a refuel-capable gas giant. We’ve also scrubbed and replaced your data logs for the past twelve hours with falsified data to mask our presence. Your ship stopped due to a computer fault in the navigation system’s signals regulator, which has since been corrected.”
“It did?” Pliont asked, surprised.
“No, that’s the excuse you’ll give your superiors,” Amelia explained. “Your ship actually stopped because you ran into a blink disruption field, which is created by a super-duper secret weapon that you will not tell anyone about if you don’t want us to be very annoyed at you.”
“Ah yes,” Pliont said, catching on and looking at Ambassador Niblui. “Nasty navigation computer glitch. I will inform my crew; they will not reveal your secrets either.”
“We know, at least the ones who made it onto the ship sober won’t,” the Terran admiral replied, winking at him. “I’ve also sent the coordinates for a meeting point in one of our systems to your datapad. Our ships will be there to lead your delegation to our home system, Sol, in… about two months.”
Minister Tsai added, “And included in the data is information about our basic biology, history, politics, and culture that we hope will alleviate some of your leaders’ concerns. If that is all, we’ll be on our way. Have a safe trip back to Malgeiru.”
Amelia nodded and pointed at Pliont, “Oh, and don’t forget about that actual fault in your sewage processing Carla was talking to you about earlier unless you want an overflow…”
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“Do you think these new Grass Eaters and the information they sent over are genuine?” Pliont asked the ambassador in her quarters as they watched the all-black Terran shuttle slide into the dark, like a graceful aquatic animal into the ocean abyss without a ripple.
“I don’t know. They seemed polite, even… civilized,” she replied, recalling those uneasy feelings in her gut. “But if they are a clever new ruse by the enemy, I think— I think… we never stood a chance anyway.”
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Property of the Malgeir Federation Navy // Sewage Hydraulic System Universal Troubleshooting Manual
Yellow Code 209 (critical)
Models: All warships of the Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta-classes (models 22,305 and newer)
Description: Drainage pipe flow pressure warning
Solutions: 1) check connectors to drainage valve 2) check pressure sensor 3) manually clear drainage pipe of debris (do not attempt during active operation)
