"Do you think this is wise?" Sereen asked as they watched, from their high seats, the diplomatic delegates press the button that would send a simple data transmission to the aliens, a digital equivalent of a handshake. It was harmless and untraceable, completely safe. Argall designed the transmitter himself, made it so that it could never be traced. And, even in the unfortunate event that aliens were able to trace it back to Hyperborea somehow and that they were hostile, then the aliens were outmatched anyway. The City of Caladan and, by extension, every other city on the planet, were heavily fortified, each citizen ready for war. The orbital defense platforms were activated, brimmed to unleash massive beams of exotic photons.
They were ready.
His people were ready.
There was nothing to worry about.
But, his sister's query resonated deeply. Argall didn't agree with the decision to make contact. He thought it foolish and dangerous. But, ultimately, his people needed to be able to arrive at their own decisions and, ultimately, it was folly to think that he knew better than them at all times. "I think this is a stupid decision. I've covered every possibility; so, even if their decision fails, the consequences won't ever reach our people. Still, I worry."
"Then, why the hell didn't you say anything, dumb ass? You know, for a fact, that these people treat your opinion like it's some divine word." Sereen sighed and shook her head. "You can't possibly want to leave all the decision-making to these bunch of greenhorns, right? None of them are old enough to remember what happened the last time aliens came to this world."
"That's exactly why I kept my mouth shut," Argall replied, sighing as he stared ahead. The transmission was sent, carried by waves that moved thousands of times faster than light. The aliens would receive it within the next hour, during which a drone would be sent into the system to receive their reply if they bothered sending one. "For better or for worse, my people have to learn how to govern themselves. And, I've prepared for every possibility; honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"
"You should not have asked that, Argall." Sereen sighed. "But... these people... they're not ready to govern themselves. You were elected High Chancellor for a reason; it should be you, down there, making the big decisions – not them. All they're doing now is making a mess of things. It took them damn near a whole day just to come up with opening statement for First Contact."
"Yeah, that was rather appalling of them, I'll admit," Argall replied. "But, they're learning quickly. And, soon, I have no doubt that they will become the leaders that they were always meant to be. We just have to be patient. And, when they need it, we'll guide them onto the right path. For they will stray and stumble; so, it's a very good thing that I'm immortal. If necessary, I'll retake the reins of civilization and lead them all myself if I have to."
"What do you think of the aliens?" Sereen asked the one question that no one really bothered asking him ever since the alien ships were discovered, which was honestly weird. "What does your fancy big fat brain tell you about their vessels?"
"Hey, stop being mean about my brain," Argall pouted, before he shook his head. "In truth? I don't think those are aliens at all. I think they're a lost human civilization of some sort, like us. We didn't evolve on this planet; everyone knows that, which means we had to come from somewhere, a distant home, perhaps, somewhere beyond this corner of the galaxy. A few of the old records speak of Earth and all the worlds it conquered. Surely, a few of our distant kin survived the horrors of the Long Night?"
Sereen turned to him, a brow raised. "You could have mentioned that during the meeting and saved them the trouble of having to figure out a universal means of communication."
Argall snickered. "Yeah, but could you imagine the pride I felt as I watched them create something without my help or input? Sure, it's... not nearly as effective as they're hoping it might be, but it's something. Certainly, a language that is based entirely on numerical patterns should prove useful in the development of Artificial Intelligence, something the Necrons are very hesitant to broach, honestly."
"Do you think these other humans will understand their message at all?" Sereen asked.
"That, I do not know," Argall answered. "There's a good chance that their culture might not have advanced enough for them to understand such basic mathematics. Or that they do not possess adequate communications equipment. I don't know. However, I do know that if they are, in fact, incapable of understanding or even receiving our transmission, then these people are not worth out time. We do not have nearly enough resources to accept these people into our nation, especially if they're technologically or socially inept. And we'd want nothing from them if assimilation is out of the table."
"However," Argall continued, his eyes narrowing. "It might be in our best interests to track and monitor them – see where their cosmic journey leads them to. Perhaps, through them, we might just uncover a human culture that is worth communicating with. Beyond that... well... I can't exactly see the future. I can only run so many simulations in my head, before I have to admit that they'd all be guesswork in the grand scheme of things."
"Unless I suddenly grow clairvoyant abilities, then there's really no way for me to know what will happen. All we can do for now is wait and observe."
About two hours after the transmission was sent, Argall's people received nothing. It was as though the alien ships did not receive the message at all or, if they did, they were unable to decipher its meaning in any reasonable amount of time, which was rather disappointing. Or, even worse, they did not possess the instruments to receive the signal at all. Sighing, Argall stood up, clapped his hands together, and spoke up, "It seems these aliens are too primitive to be of any use or interest for our nation. I suggest we continue tracking and monitoring them, but no more attempts at contact are to be made. All concur?"
The delegates turned to him and, considering the fact that the supposed aliens have made no effort at replying to their message, they all agreed. They turned to each other, clearly disappointed in the silence of the primitive aliens, but otherwise conceding to Argall's point. "We concur, High Chancellor. The aliens are too primitive to be of any use or interest for our great nation. Let us attach Seeker Probes on all of their-"
Argall's eyes widened as an all-too familiar sound began blaring, the giant screen before them blinking and pulsating with crimson lights. It wasn't anything he'd been expecting. And it meant only one thing.
His expectations might've been a little too high. After all, excluding his aging sister, Argall was in the company of Gene-Forged Superhumans.
"We've received a voice transmission from the aliens!" One of the technicians announced.
Argall nodded. The only way the primitive aliens could've possibly sent back a message was if they understood the message itself and the means with which to send it, which had already been encoded in the signal. Perhaps, they weren't as primitive as he thought. The language that the diplomatic team had created wasn't exactly simple or easy to decipher. "Play it. Let's hear what they have to say."
He found himself curious. And, honestly, Argall was giddy with excitement. Sure, these humans were primitive, but the cultural exchange would surely offer both of their peoples a wealth of knowledge and inspiration. And, if these primitives lacked a planet of their own and were willing to comply with Argall's vision, then, perhaps, assimilation could certainly be discussed.
The transmission was played and a feminine voice spoke.
"Greetings, fellow humans. It is good to hear the voice of our brethren in these dark times. We are... we are all that remains of the Volimar Republic. I am High Admiral Jadan Nkash of the 45th Fleet and I am the leader of this band of survivors. Please, my people are desperate. We're running out of provisions, food and medical supplies. The Imperium of Mankind, I suspect, won't stop hounding us until there's nothing left of the Volimar Republic. Please, as a fellow human being, I am begging for your help."
Argall stared at the screen, eyes wide. Everyone else in the room had a similar expression. However, it didn't take him very long to make up his mind. First and foremost, every aspect of his mind knew for a fact that the person who'd spoken, this High Admiral Jadan Nkash, was a real human being, not a voice fabricated by artificial intelligence; secondly, he could tell, by her tone, that she hadn't been lying. She sounded desperate. Thirdly, the life signs he'd scanned in their vessels, something he'd not deigned to inform the other delegates just yet, had been a little worrying.
One of the delegates turned to him. And, soon enough, every single delegate had turned to him, including Sereen who'd raised a single brow. "What do you propose we do, High Chancellor?"
"Raise all our defenses and inform our people that we may be receiving visitors from distant stars, soon. We'll parley with them and judge for ourselves if their words are true or hollow. And if they spoke the truth and their people are, indeed, in need of help, then we shall, as fellow humans, offer aid. All concur?" Argall declared. Truthfully, despite already knowing that High Admiral Jadan Nkash of the remnants of the Volimar Republic was telling the truth, Argall knew that it'd be much wiser for them to actually meet in person, to discuss and converse as humans. And, he'd like to know more about the 'Imperium of Man' that the remnants were apparently running from and whether or not they posed a significant threat to his growing nation.
The delegates all turned to each other and all nodded as one. Truly, Argall mused, the enhanced neural speed and capacity of his people was the greatest gift he could've given them, allowing them to make decisions almost instantly, where lesser men would've spent hours or even days pondering the same problem or question. "We concur, High Chancellor."
Argall nodded. "Well, then; let us send them another message, alongside our coordinates. All their weapons are to be deactivated, though they may keep their shields if they wish; they may gather as many as five delegates to represent them in the parley. These diplomats must be unarmed, but they may wear as much armor as they wish. Do remind them that any form of violence will be met with a swift and powerful retaliation. And that, while our people are merciful, we are more than capable of killing all of them."
Though he felt that it might've been unnecessary in this case, it was always a good idea to negotiate from a position of power. And, more than anything, these remnants of the Volimar Republic asked them for aid, admitting that whatever nation they had was now in tatters, little more than dust in the cosmic winds, putting themselves at a clear disadvantage, which meant – more than anything – that the High Admiral truly was desperate and her people truly needed aid. And how could Argall deny her?
As long as their human cousins stayed their weapons, obeyed the laws of Hyperborea, and embraced the ascension into becoming superhumans, then Argall had no qualms about integrating these lost people into his nation. Together, even, they may stand against this Imperium of Man and stand triumphant.
"As you command, High Chancellor."
Argall sat back down.
"They will drag us into their war," Sereen spoke the words that Argall did not yet want to hear. But, he needed to hear them anyway. "It is inevitable. Are we ready to wage an interstellar war?"
"We are." Argall replied. "No matter what happens, our people will never be conquered. And we shall never be bowed, even if we must become conquerors ourselves."
"Then, so be it."
About five days later, the tattered remnants of the Volimar Fleet appeared over Hyperborea.
AN: Chapter 31 is up on (Pat)reon!