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“Acting-Captain Urle,” he heard. He’d stepped not three meters from Iago’s door.
“Ah,” he said. “Ambassador N’Keeea, it’s good to see you,” he said, trying to force his brain into the diplomacy mindset needed for talking to the alien. Hev minds were not like human minds, and they tended to be much less direct-
“When will we hear from your diplomatic corp?” N’Keeea asked bluntly.
After how the Ambassador had beaten around the bush so much, only implying his question to Urle, hinting at it, dancing around and trying to find an angle that didn’t seem to be asking for a favor . . . the directness was shocking.
“I spoke to them the other day,” he said, trying to sound as calm and in-control as he could. “But I have not received an answer from them. I’m sorry.”
“Do they want us to all die?!” N’Keeea snapped, his teeth clacking loudly.
Urle was startled, recoiling slightly. “Ambassador – I understand the consequences, but I am doing everything I can.”
His stomach squirmed. Perhaps he needed to be more demanding? It was one thing doing that within Engineering or Quartermasters or the fleet as a whole. But the Diplomatic Corps? That had never been his area of expertise, and he did not know how they worked.
Nor should he, he knew. But there were always better ways to impart the dire need of something, to make sure the other party knew. In a society that spanned the stars, it was true more than ever.
N’Keeea stepped back, lowering his snout and turning slightly away. “I . . . I apologize, Acting-Captain. That was . . . not appropriate.”
It wasn’t, but Urle could understand why the being would lash out.
“We are having our own issues right now, I’m sorry to say. It is taxing our diplomatic corps deeply. I don’t know if you have heard, but-“
“Yes, yes . . . the Corvus system and UGR nonsense,” N’Keeea said, his tail lashing back and forth. A sign of dismissal. “I do not understand why you put up with them. You outnumber them by an uncountable margin. And yet you let them persist.”
Urle knew he could not explain this to a Hev. Many stronger clans of his kind tolerated weaker clans if they were useful, peaceful, or agreed to be vassals. But if the weaker attacked the stronger there would be no mercy, a grinding war of attrition that might last generations until one side was destroyed to its last member.
“It’s not our way,” Urle told him. “We do not seek to annihilate our enemies. In a case like this, we hope that one day they might realize they would be better off being our friends.”
The Hev’s nose crunched up, but he said nothing. His own people were going to be exterminated by a stronger clan who knew only war; perhaps it made him reassess that kind of thinking.
“My people will die because of this,” he admitted.
“I am truly sorry, Ambassador. But I have done what I can, and I will not shoulder the blame. I know you wished to save face, but if you had told me sooner . . .”
The Hev twisted away, as if disgusted. With himself or Urle, the man wasn’t sure.
“It is not mere face. I have been turned away by both Sepht and Dessei already. Over a matter that is as insulting as it is stupid.”
Urle paused. Despite the Union, the various species within it maintained many rights, their own cultures, and their own views on many things. But as far as he knew, neither the Dessei nor the Sepht had any major issues with the Hev.
That their regions of control bordered the majority of Hev space made them the obvious candidates; humanity wasn’t directly abutting their territory, but there was unclaimed space one could cross to reach them. But there was another major power in the Sapient Union that shared a border with the Hev.
“What about the Bicet?” he asked. “Have you tried-“
N’Keeea laughed, the sound bitter even without Urle’s system telling him.
“I had hoped you would know more of my people,” N’Keeea said sadly. “But I suppose humans have not had much contact with us – and the Bicet carry their secrets close, don’t they?”
“What secrets?” Urle asked, truly surprised.
“Some Hev . . . in the past had wars with the Bicet. Not over resources or territory, but . . .” Disgust went over N’Keeea’s face. “But because the Bicet were considered a delicacy. These beings of my species were barbarous beyond description, and did not represent the views of us all. But the Bicet do not forget a slight – for to hurt one is to hurt all, in their eyes.”
Urle couldn’t say he disagreed, but if it was true that most Hev clans would never stoop that low, then perhaps . . .
“Could you convince the Bicet of that? I do not mean to say that there is no hope of us helping you – I sincerely hope and think it will come. But you could try.”
“There exist no diplomatic connections between our people, and to even try is to court death. The Bicet took the actions of the barbarian Hev as . . . well, there are few actions worse. They eat their own dead, you see. There is ritual significance in it, and for an enemy to consume them – it is the worst insult imaginable. A part of their people are considered to be lost, forever.”
Urle had not known this; Bicet culture was easily the most obscured of any group in the Sapient Union, owing to how different their outlooks were in all things. Only Shoggoths could be said to be more secretive . . .
“Do you think these lack of relations could have had to do with the Sepht and Dessei rejecting you?” he asked.
The Hev studied him a moment, as if seeing him in a new light. “That is . . . exactly it, Acting-Captain. They wished us to sign a formal agreement to never again threaten the Bicet people. It is . . . something that is offensive beyond understanding.” He stood up taller. “No member of T’H’Tuul has ever consumed the flesh of an intelligent being! We will die before we sign such a document, for it implies that we once did!”
“Perhaps the wording can be amended-” Urle began.
“We would rather die than accept this imperialistic offense, Acting-Captain!” N’Keeea hissed. “You understand me? If every last Hev of my clan must be as dust to show our integrity, then so shall it be!”
Urle recoiled again, unsure what to say. He had never seen any Hev, let alone N’Keeea, so angry before.
N’Keeea whirled halfway around, away from him. It was a gesture of insult to Urle, he knew, but he did not feel that he could truly be offended. He only felt a hurt, but he could not direct it at any being in particular.
“These great pauses – sometimes for months – preceded our rejection by the Dessei and Sepht as well,” he spat. “I can see it coming from your people, as well. And I cannot say I am surprised. It only means I must wait, and see what other powers may be that could help my people.”
Urle wished he could have made some promise to the being to help allay his fear, soothe his inconsolable anger.
But he had nothing he could say. There was nothing more he could do.
Other Terrestrial 