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The Reckless
Genre: Sci-Fi
Language: 1
Violence: 1
Sensuality: 1
The day the Human race joined the galactic commonwealth was an inauspicious one. They were the seventeenth member race to be inducted.
Their first encounter with the commonwealth two galactic years prior certainly raised eyebrows. Humanity's first attempt at faster than light travel was unusually reckless, and would have left their four person crew stranded in the blackness of empty space, were it not for the near collision with a Tharkasian remote explorer vessel as they careened through void-space. The Tharkasians managed to identify the ship's transponder, locked the signal, and sent two of their complement of four interceptors to determine the level of threat the unfamiliar craft might represent.
They found the vessel, fractured and drifting, hemorrhaging radioactive waste from the primitive fission-based power system. The backup life-support system was nearly drained, and it was a minor miracle that the crew pod had not sustained any serious breach, nor had it been in the path of the radiation purge.
They rescued the crew of three humans from the wreckage, and with some effort established rudimentary communication. They were a comparatively fragile species; upright, two-legged creatures with no claws, no fangs, no exoskeleton, and a very thin hide. In spite of this they were fearless, with an insatiable and reckless curiosity.
In time, their primary languages were deciphered from the surviving data-stores of their damaged shipboard computer system, allowing for practical conversation.
After some debate, the decision was made to return them to their home system, along with an ambassadorial delegate. The human technology was still quite primitive—below the threshold normally established for first contact protocols. However, it was concluded, as a matter of safety for other space-faring races, to make an exception. Further, it was decided to provide some minimal technological aid to the humans, to prevent further blundering on their part.
The human president greeted the ambassadorial detachment with gushing enthusiasm upon their arrival to the world the humans called mars. She tirelessly interrogated them about their respective cultures and customs, eager to understand, and anxious to give no accidental offense.
One of the delegates noted the sealed environmental domes in which the humans lived, which was unusual for a species' home-world. How—after all—had they managed to evolve on a world on which they could not naturally survive?
The president began explaining, with some embarrassment, that Mars was not their home-world. She had turned a strange color of red as she explained they had been forced to abandon their home world, earth over 200 years ago, due to having poisoned the atmosphere with radiation, among other things.
N'ar Zxan, the delegate of the Adraxians, and designated head of the diplomatic mission to the humans, clicked his mandibles—a gesture which humans don't precisely have a word to describe its meaning, but approximately, it is a mix of chastisement and amusement.
"Oh you impetuous, enthusiastic, curious, reckless children of the stars!" He exclaimed, "So eager to climb to the heavens that you hurt your home. You really must learn more patience, more caution. But then, I suppose a certain carelessness is to be expected of a species whose lives are so brief, a mere 50 galactic years! My father lived beyond 200."
And so, on that day, the humans become known as "The Reckless" among the members of the galactic commonwealth.
A detachment of commonwealth scientists arrived not long after, and with their help, humans learned the science of clean fusion. Their primitive quantum computing technology was upgraded from the simple playthings they had devised to practical systems, capable of safely calculating void-space way-points, and opening and closing jump-portals. This eased the concerns of many that the reckless in their impulsive, bumbling way, might accidentally destroy a star system. while learning the intricacies of void-space travel.
With the help of the commonwealth, the human home-world was restored to a habitable state in just five galactic standard years, and the humans hosted a grand celebration as a thank-you. Many thousands of dignitaries attended, eager for a chance to meet these curious new arrivals, who had just been granted probationary membership.
The avian Tra'al, who quickly developed an intense fondness for the humans, graciously presented three ships from their fleet as gifts- a deep-space research vessel, a mass-transport freighter, and solar mining craft.
The humans promptly disassembled all three.
They were curious to a fault, the humans. Just like infants, who stuff everything in their mouths.
The debates regarding providing weapons technology to the reckless were many and lengthy.
"How can they handle the threat of piracy if they are unarmed?" The Tra'al ambassador had argued. "And some small number of our members are prone to aggression. How will the humans survive?"
"Their primitive mass drivers are sufficient to deter pirates," N'ar Zxan had countered. "And if anyone launches unwarranted attacks against them, you are welcome to come to their aid. The Reckless are dangerous when they are merely flitting about. Placing A plasma cannon in the hands of such children would be utterly irresponsible. And we really know nothing of their disposition yet. We have only just begun to learn their peculiarities. Perhaps in a few years when they are better known to us."
As time passed the novelty of 'The Reckless' wore off, and the humans became just another space-faring race. Occasionally someone might note with curiosity that though wildly impulsive, they seemed incredibly restrained when it came to socio-political matters. They avoided conflict with an almost religious fervency.
Once, the Asgands attacked a human colony on a recently acquired planet, claiming it was of deep cultural significance to them. This was obviously untrue. The planet was nowhere near Asgand space, and held little resources of value to the ferocious reptilians. It was an ideal waypoint for human trade vessels, and thus represented a considerable loss for them, but was inconsequential to the interests of Asgand.
The humans apologized for the misunderstanding nonetheless, and promptly abandoned the planet. Leaving it to the Asgands, who erected, then abandoned a minor listening post
Another time, the Famalor lodged a formal complaint against the humans claiming they were exceeding their mining allotment of the Tederath asteroid field. The humans surrendered a full half of their last collection (which measured to be a mere thirty percent of their allotment), and withdrew from the system altogether, to avoid further contention.
And that was notably the response of humans to any conflict, they compromised. They retreated, they negotiated. They never fought back, nor did they call for intervention from the commonwealth. They seemed more timid than the rabbits of their home-world, a creature which became briefly popular as a pet on several of the commonwealth worlds.
Fifteen years after their first encounter, the humans were granted full status within the commonwealth, with little fanfare, already a largely forgotten and inconsequential race, quietly laboring in the far reaches of the galaxy.
It was nearly two years later to the date that we first encountered the swarm.
We do not know what they called themselves. They did not speak to us. It was evident from their advanced technology they had the ability to. After capturing, then destroying an Asgand freighter, the swarm moved with purpose, from Asgand world to world. demonstrating they had understood the Asgand technology, and gleaned from it the location of their planets.
The Asgand were a fierce, warlike race, admired and feared for their prowess in combat. They were no match for the swarm. Their massive cruisers would arrive at a planet and unleash a countless hoard of light fighter craft, which would literally swarm over and tear apart the opposing fleets. Then their giant cruisers would encircle the planet.
With no warning, no offer of terms for surrender they would open fire with massive plasma cannons, and devastating beam weapons. The planet's atmosphere would boil under the extreme heat. In mere hours, an entire world was reduced to lifeless rock. The swarm would launch a handful of mining vessels to begin the extraction of minerals from he glassed planet, and the swarm itself would move on to the next planet.
The Commonwealth sent an ambassadorial envoy, to attempt to open dialog with the swarm. The envoy was annihilated, their hails unanswered.
So the commonwealth sent their armada. Thousands of ships - battleships, corvette-class cruisers, carriers, destroyers. If they would not respond to diplomacy, then a stern rebuke was in order.
But it was the commonwealth fleet who was humbled. The alien vessels swarmed over the armada like a plague of locusts, and the council could do nothing but listen helplessly to the screams, followed by silence as ship after ship went dark.
A lone ship fled from the massacre. A Tra'al medium gunship, the blinking red indicator reporting the severely damaged state of the fleeing, wounded vessel.
The silence was broken by a broadwave message.
"This is commander Pax-vas of Tra'al. The commonwealth is lost. The armada has been destroyed. The swarm is upon us. We are the sole survivors, but we are wounded, and they will overtake us before we reach Asgandar. We urgently request all capable vessels within two standard days of Asgandar to aid in evacuation, else in five days the Asgand will be extinct."
"All other commonwealth worlds are advised to begin evacuation now. They have captured our navigation data, they know where each world is, and they will doubtless bring them all to ruin. Abandon all hope and flee for your lives."
The council stared at one another in disbelief as the message repeated. The gravity of the situation was unfathomable. hundreds of worlds, tens of billions of beings, all caught in the crossfire of this relentless, insatiable enemy.
It would be impossible to rescue even a fraction of them.
And what then? Where would they go?
There was a crackle of static as the broadwave alert was disrupted by another broad-wave message.
"This is admiral Bennet of Earth battle-group Delta-one-five. We have your coordinates and trajectory. Hold your course. We are coming."
"Negative," Pax-Vas responded, his voice tired, but resolved. "It is Asganadar which needs your aide. We will delay them if we can, but we are beyond hope. Please, help Asgandar."
"Hold your course," The Admiral's voice repeated, "We are coming."
N'ar Zxan keyed his microphone, "Admiral. We acknowledge your species' deep affection for the Tra'al, however, we must insist you abandon your effort to rescue the crew of this wounded vessel. However honorable your intentions, they are misguided. Your primitive ships will be no match for the speed and ferocity of this vast foe. They cannot be negotiated with. You would be wasting valuable time and resources, which would be better spent aiding the evacuation of Asgand civilians. We know you two have had your differences in the past, but we urge you to set aside any ill will you may hold for them and come to their aide in this most dreadful of times."
"This is Earth president Darjeel," the president's voice was less exuberant than usual, but bore no hint of anxiety.
"I apologize for my tardiness, I have only just intercepted the Admiral's ship. I assure you we bear no ill will toward the Asgand."
A collective gasp filled the council room.
"President! What in the name of Thraxis are you doing? You are Earth leader, the last place you should be is with a battle fleet, much less on board the command vessel. Only in the most foolish, primitive of planet-bound species do you see such behavior. Who will direct your people if you fall?"
"We once thought that way," Darjeel's tone hinted at faint amusement. "In our middle age."
The council room screen flickered as the now empty battle-map was replaced by the Face of President Darjeel. Her smile faded.
"After we were forced to abandon earth, we made the decision to return to our old ways. We set in law that our leaders must be at the head of battle. It discourages frivolous wars. Admiral Bennet informs me we are on target to intercept in zero-point-four standard days. "
N'ar Zxan clicked his mandibles disapprovingly.
"What's that?" President Darjeel's head turned to the side on the display as she listened to a murmured response from someone outside of the cameras field of vision.
"Very well," Darjeel nodded to the unseen voice, then turned her attention back to the screen.
"I must apologize. I have just been informed we must disable all energetic transmission systems briefly while we bring the MAVEDDs online. We will reestablish communications as soon as it is safe to do so. Darjeel out."
The screen winked out, leaving the council room in puzzled silence, save for the smattering of hushed voices whispering to neighbors.
What were the humans doing? What did they hope to accomplish? Their primitive weapons were no match for even the now nonexistent commonwealth fleet. The swarm would burn through their ships as easily as a torch through tissue paper.
This foe was indifferent to threats of force, pleas for mercy, or appeals to reason. No amount of human diplomacy—no matter how skillful—was likely to alter the outcome. There were no concessions to be made with the swarm.
Were they really so foolish to throw their lives away - their beloved leader's life away - In a futile attempt to save the crew of one insignificant Tra'al vessel? They would be as a mere particle of dust, attempting to shield a pebble from a meteor storm. It was too foolhardy an endeavor to even be remembered in song, should anyone be left alive in a year to still sing songs.
The council returned to talk of the evacuation of Asgandar. Precious few ships answered the call to give aid. Most were either afraid to place themselves in the path of approaching destruction, or frantically preparing for evacuation of their own worlds, leaving the Asgand to inevitable extinction.
The screens in the council room sprang to life once again, as multiple tactical feeds were transmitted from the human craft. The fleet had just exited void space alarmingly close to the wounded Tra'al vessel. Sending a ripple of disapproving clucks and hoots and chirrups through the room. So reckless, those humans.
"Commander Pax-Vas," Admiral Bennet's authoritative voice boomed in the conference room, his stern features filled one screen, "prepare your crew for immediate evacuation. Hospital ship Bravo-two-seven is on approach to dock, on your front starboard side."
The human fleet was less than one hundred strong, plus a small fighter escort. They were ships of a type the council had not seen before. Not too surprising perhaps, the humans were never involved in conflict, so there was never reason for combat vessels to be exposed to public scrutiny.
They were sleek ships, bearing some semblance to the Tra'al craft the humans likely copied. There were many distinct differences, however. The Tra'al vessels were patterned after their makers - long and slender with gracefully arced wing structures on each side.
The human vessels were less rounded, and the wings were notably absent. Perhaps it was done to match their own wingless forms, or perhaps it was merely a pragmatic choice, as wings served no real purpose in the empty void.
There were two vessels which stood apart from the others. Not so much ships as a cluster of nacelles attached in a circle around a long, slender tube. The front of which hosted an oversized geodesic sphere.
"Docking procedure commencing in three— two— one—" A soft, yet confident female voice announced. The human ship glided effortlessly into place, making contact with the side of the Tra'al vessel.
"Hello again," The president's face appeared next to the admiral. She flashed a brief smile and raised her hand in a traditional human greeting.
"We have magnetic seal," the voice continued moments later, "pressure stabilization is complete, airlock atmosphere is five-by-five. Ready to accept evacuees on your order."
"Proceed," the Admiral ordered.
"Admiral," this time a younger male voice was heard, "we have target lock on the hive-queen vessel."
"Hive queen?" N'ar Zxan flicked his antennae forward in a gesture of confusion.
"Shortly after word of the attacks on Asgand worlds were announced, one of our science vessels encountered and apprehended a scout ship." President Darjeel explained. "Their analysis determined these creatures are a hivemind. A single queen or group of queens control the actions of the drones."
"How did you..." N'ar Zxan began, but was cut off by Admiral Bennet's voice.
"MAVEDD-1, Target is lit, prepare to accept fire-controls transfer."
"MAVEDD-1 ready to accept transfer." The voice which responded to the admiral was older, with a thick accent the humans has called 'Russian'. A display screen showed a cramped cockpit with two men, one, a hardened veteran with unblinking eyes, the other an eager, younger man whose eyes and fingers were busily occupied with an array of controls.
"This is Admiral Bennet authorizing fire control transfer to MAVEDD-1. Voice authorization code, bandicoot, rascal, excelsior."
"Authorization accepted," A metallic voice responded.
"This is president Darjeel confirming authorization of fire control transfer to MAVEDD-1. Voice authorization code, pinstripe, raven, dulcimer."
"Confirmation accepted."
"This is Captain Antonova, accepting fire-controls transfer," The heavily accented voice spoke, "Voice authorization code, rainbow, kilo, vodka."
"Acceptance acknowledged. Transfer complete."
"God speed, captain."
"Davai." The veteran flashed a salute, and the cockpit disappeared from the display.
The array of Nacelles on one of the two strange vessels flashed a blindingly bright blue as the cluster of oversized ion drives engaged. The vehicle accelerated at an impossibly rapid pace, racing toward the approaching swarm.
"What is tha—" N'ar Zxan pointed a finger at the rapidly moving object, then stopped mouth agape.
"Where did it go!?"
The ship had disappeared, as had the dot representing it on the battle map.
"That is the MAVEDD, your eminence," The president responded to the first, unfinished question. "It stands for MAtter-Void Exponential Deconstruction Device. We engineered it based on principles we learned from reverse engineering the Tra'al technology. It is essentially a missile with a warhead which combines void space technology and antimatter propulsion technology."
"But where did it go?" N'ar Zxan persisted.
Just then the dot reappeared on the battle-map, a considerable distance from the location where it had vanished. "What? How—?" The MAVEDD vanished again.
"We've developed a cloaking technology for it" The admiral explained. "Its large size makes it an easy target. Unfortunately the cloaking system disrupts navigation controls, so it must occasionally de-cloak, and reassess trajectory before returning to cloaked state."
"You said it was a missile, why then is there a pilot?"
"Unfortunately the background radiation from the void generator, coupled with the hyper-fusion reactor interferes with every navigation system we have tried. We have to use live pilots to overcome this. Two crewmen per MAVEDD."
A collective gasp of horror filled the chamber.
"You make your pilots fly to certain death?"
"They volunteered," The admiral corrected.
The MAVEDD winked into existence once again, now halfway between the Human fleet and the approaching swarm. It made a minute course correction, then winked out again.
N'ar Zxan's mandible clicked in agitation, "What is the point one suicide missile? What do you hope to accomplish with such an impetuous, impulsive, and ultimately meaningless gesture?"
"Perhaps not so meaningless" Darjeel murmured. "There is a conversation we began when you first visited our solar system, but which we did not finish. You came to an incorrect conclusion regarding the harm to our home-world, which I feel compelled to correct."
Blink, course correct blink.
"Twenty seconds to target."
"Many on the council have called us timid due to our abhorrence of violence—the lengths we go to in order to avoid conflict. We were not always this way. We evolved in conflict—formed tribes, nations, and battled one another constantly. As our technology advanced, so did our capability for destruction. It culminated in weapons so powerful they could destroy entire cities."
Blink, Blink.
"Ten seconds."
"The few humans that survived the war which burned our world to ash. Fled to Mars. We swore to avoid that path in the future, at all costs, but that choice has not changed our nature."
The bright flash next to one of the larger vessels near the center of the swarm fleet was impressive but not overwhelmingly so. The nearest vessel broke apart in sparks and fire.
A gasp raced through the council room as the flash of light began to spread, simultaneous beams of brilliant light and rays of a darkness deeper than the void raced outward in fractal patterns. Where it spread, space itself seemed to fold, to twist. It spread in every direction, a steady inexorable expansion, and each swarm ship caught in its wake was torn to fragments.
"We choose peace," Darjeel spoke as the council watched in horror, "but we still prepare for the time when peace fails."
The field of devastation continued to expand. swarm ships began breaking formation, attempting to flee. They could not escape the expanding annihilation. A gravity well formed at the blast's epicenter, drawing everything into it, hundreds, thousands of ships reduced to dust and ash.
It felt like hours, but in reality was less than a minute. The council observed the devastation in shock, some delegates expressing in fearful gasps and chitters, that the entire universe would be consumed. But the expanding ball of destruction finally slowed, then subsided, leaving a vast, empty space where once the massive swarm fleet had been. And in that empty space was a silence, matched only by the silence in the council chamber.
"Threat Neutralized," Admiral Bennet's clinical pronouncement was the briefest interruption to the soundless moment. Somewhere in the council chamber a hoarse whisper was heard.
"Xenocide."
"Admiral, De-energize MAVEDD-2" The President waited for the acknowledging salute, then faced the camera to addresses the commonwealth council chamber. "The Commonwealth is safe, N'ar Zxan. We will care for the Tra'al survivors and return them home."
There was a painfully long pause, then Darjeel continued, "You have seen a side of humans we had hoped to keep hidden. I know this changes how you view us, and might change our standing with the commonwealth. Please know, we consider you allies, friends. We will keep our ships on alert, to guard you until you can replenish your own fleet, after which we will withdraw. Whatever you decide after that, we will abide."
The deliberations went on for years. The Tra'al spoke emphatically on behalf of the humans, of the invaluable aide they provided in crisis. The Asgand acknowledged the honor humans displayed in battle. The Famalor warned of the power imbalance the Humans represented. They pointed to their calculations that the Human death weapon was capable of consuming an entire solar system, and demanded the humans be demilitarized. Other races declared the humans must be kept in the council so that diplomatic power could be applied to keep them in check, still others argued that humans should be banished before they corrupted and overthrew the council. They were too dangerous to be included in the council, they were too dangerous NOT to be included in council.
There were a few who secretly approached the human ambassador and begged to be accepted as vassals under the future human empire, but the humans politely declined these advances.
And through all of it. The humans quietly protected vulnerable worlds, rebuilt damaged infrastructure, distributed supplies to the destitute, returned the victims of war to a state of normalcy. No expectation of thanks, no expectation of recompense or returned favors. They did it simply because, in their words, "It was the right thing to do."
In the end, it was decided the humans would remain. But only so long as they promised to cease expansion, to make no treaties with individual races, and to retain their war fleet within their own boundaries save for the majority request of the council. The humans accepted all the requirements without complaint, which surprised many, and unnerved many more.
Over time, the state of the galactic council settled to a... new normal. Relations with the humans were amicable... at arms length. The continued to be averse to violence, and always sought peaceful solutions, but now, the more aggressive species were much more cautious about encounters with humanity. And in a few instances the mere mention of the name humans in passing stilled escalating feuds between other members of the galactic council. But in spite of the distance with which they were treated, the humans remained very much as they were before; ever willing to provide aide to those in need, ever averse to conflict.
There were occasional dark whispers among some—more paranoid—individuals, that the humans were secretly attempting to expand their territory by traveling beyond the confines of the galaxy, but such conspiracies were not taken seriously, for such a rash action was far too mad for any species to consider, even the Reckless.
