Revelation
"Commander Drel! Commander Drel!"
The Paranoid commander opened his eyes, wondering who it was who had interrupted his meditations. He looked upwards to spot one of his subordinates running towards him, his organo-metallic skeleton banging against the deck of his ship. "What is the meaning of this?" he droned, the fibrous opening that his kind used in place of a Solnoid mouth vibrating slowly.
"My apologies, Commander," the subordinate begged as he stopped and knelt before the circle of light that housed the main holo-projector, from which all tactical and sensory input was projected to the Command Triad for analysis. Looking down, in proper supplicant form, he continued, "We have an urgent message that has been relayed from one of our scout-probes – it brings word from the Twenty-First Star System that a Solnoid battle-group is there!"
"So what?" Drel sniffed dismissively, "those damn Solnoid groups are in every system. We can't afford to waste our efforts on one battle-group, when the offensive on Marsus is about to begin." Marsus, homeworld of the entire Solnoid people, was a prize that they had long coveted – destroying that one world would, it was presumed, crack the morale of the entire Solnoid race and bring a quick victory for the Paranoid people. Drel wanted to be a part of the battle that would end the war in their favour.
"You don't understand, sir," the subordinate added, "the Twenty-First System was obliterated in battle, three darens ago. There is nothing left for them there – yet they remain!"
That got Drel's attention. "Explain" he said simply.
Breaking protocol, the subordinate looked up at the Commander. "Apparently, they recovered a ship that survived the annihilation of the system. I do not understand how that is possible." He paused for a moment before speculating, something Paranoid underlings do not do often – or well. "Perhaps the Solnoid have developed a type of ship that can survive the destruction of a star?"
Forget Marsus, Drel pondered, a prize such as that would be one well worth capturing! From it, we could learn how to protect our OWN homeworld from destruction, and then NOTHING would stand in our way!
"Abort Attack Protocol" Drel ordered. "All ships in Group Sarnus are ordered to break formation and jump to Lightspeed! Heading – the Twenty-First Star System!"
"But Sir!" his left-hand adjutant objected, "What of the Fleet heading for Marsus?"
"This takes precedence," Drel countered. "Capturing a ship that can withstand the energy release of a System Destroyer is worth the diversion. The residual radiation from the star's destruction will render their long-range sensors useless, and we will catch them totally unprepared."
"But Sir!"
"No arguments! My decision stands – we head for the Twenty-First Star System immediately, and capture this ship for ourselves! Jump to Lightspeed – NOW!"
Twelve streaks of light marked the departure of the Paranoid ships from their assigned positions – heading into battle...
"My name is Marcus, and I'm not one of you."
That admission caused Shildy to smirk, hearing her suspicions confirmed at last.
"But I'm not a spy, either," he continued. "I come from a race that calls ourselves Solnarians, and my ship was damaged in the attack that destroyed this system. You got to me before my ship could be fully healed and we could leave – otherwise, you never would have known we were here."
"'Healed'?" Spea asked under her breath.
"But – you look like us" Amy pointed out cautiously.
"Mostly" Spea added.
"I'm not familiar with the concepts of parallel evolution," Marcus explained to them, "but this particular body-type seems to be quite common throughout the galaxy. My people have been explorers for a very long time, and we've met with many intelligent races along the way."
"But not with us..." Catty noted.
"No – not with you. Every race we've encountered prefer peaceful interaction with their neighbours – you and your enemy seem to be exceptions to that. Every planetary system you enter – you immediately start shooting at any ship you encounter that is not your own. Worse – many of your battles end with the total destruction of the system, and everything in it. Because of your xenophobic nature, we've tried to keep our distance... but your encounter with my ship makes that impossible. I tried to keep quiet while I was aboard your ship, thinking that I could slip away unnoticed at an opportune time – but some of the things that Catty has told me have forced me to reconsider."
"Oh?" Shildy queried, cocking an eyebrow at the youth. "And what, exactly, did you tell it that made it 'reconsider'?"
"For the record," Marcus interjected, "it's considered rude to refer to a thinking being as 'it'. I would be referred to as 'he' or 'him' – much the same way you would use 'she' or 'her' to refer to one of your companions."
"Okay, FINE," Shildy scoffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. "What did you tell HIM to make HIM reconsider?"
"Nothing specific – only the most general of overviews" Marcus stated, cutting off her potential rant about giving tactical information to an enemy. "She told me how long you've been at war, and how badly the situation has deteriorated. She also confirmed a couple of things that I'd already suspected, based upon my experience since this system was annihilated. Based on that, I suspect that you have less than a generation before both your races go extinct."
"No – that can't be possible..." Shildy whispered.
"But, if things are so bad," Spea interjected, "why tell us?"
"Because, as bleak as it sounds, there is still hope for that outcome to be avoided. As I told Catty here, my people have a long history of being able to resolve conflicts peacefully. I've offered to get in touch with them, and try to convince them to play an active role in arbitrating your conflict – if successful..."
"The War will come to an end!" Amy finished his thought with a squeal of delight.
"Not possible..." Shildy repeated, staring at the floor with her hands again balled into fists.
"Can't hurt to try" Spea argued, using her often-used catchphrase.
"If it will put an end to generations of fighting," Catty added, "isn't it worth at least considering?"
"Not possible..." Shildy whispered.
"I realize that this is a lot to absorb all at once," Marcus said softly, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder, "but if you'll just give it some..."
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Shildy shrieked as she swatted his hand away. "This is ALL YOUR FAULT! I can't... I can't... and now you've got my best friends thinking that we can have PEACE with those... THINGS?" She looked at him, the beginnings of tears glistening the corners of her eyes. "What have you DONE to me?" she pleaded.
"Other than possibly opening your mind to new ideas, I don't know what I could have done," Marcus stated apologetically.
"Don't give me that!" Shildy told him. "I haven't been the same since you called me that other name, and I want to know WHY!"
Marcus blinked at her, clearly puzzled. "I don't understand," he finally said, "what 'other name'?"
Shildy, clearly agitated, struggled with the answer. "You called me... you called me..."
"'Steph'," Spea completed the thought for her.
Marcus dropped his jaw in surprise. Thinking for a moment, he said "I apologize for that. I must have been slightly delirious when you came to me, and I mistook you for her. I'm sorry."
"But... who IS she?" Spea asked.
"Steph is – or, rather, was – my companion," Marcus answered. "We were part of a team that was engineering the third and fourth planets of this system as colonies. We came here together about fifty yaars ago, and..."
"Excuse me," Amy spoke up, "but what's a 'yaar'?"
"One orbit of a habitable world around a yellow-dwarf star," Marcus explained. "Roughly four hundred days."
"We call it a 'year'," Catty said.
"Wow," Spea noted, "you don't look that old."
"Longevity science is very advanced among my people. I'm not even a tenth of my potential life-span yet."
Spea whistled softly.
"None of this MATTERS!" Shildy shouted. "You're doing nothing but further corrupting everybody! Peace? HA! What a crock! The only way we'll ensure our survival is to WIN THIS WAR!"
"But you're not winning it, are you?" Marcus explained. "Your fleets destroy everything they encounter, you salvage your wounded to make cyborgs that will keep fighting for you, and even those are constantly dwindling. Very soon, you will lack the resources to survive, let alone fight – is that what you want?"
"I... I..." Shildy felt at a loss to continue, her resolve growing weaker as she began to consider what he was telling her.
"If you allow me to help, I can help bring an end to the fighting, and save billions of lives. If not..." he shrugged, "you'll just continue the way you have, and face your own extiction. The choice is yours."
Shildy collapsed to her knees and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "I know, I KNOW! I used to think that way, but I had to become tougher... put it at the back of my mind, so I could do the job of saving my crewmates. I had to become a soldier! I still am, but I don't WANT to be!" She looked up at him. "What do I DO?"
The choice was abruptly taken from her, as the ship lurched sideways and rang with the echo of an explosion...
