Biological Warfare
Aug. 10th, 2011 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwrnmnbsol"All right," said Wisest Sapieri once the council had assembled. "What do we know about the Nomar?"
Intrepid Rogon stepped to the speaking podium. "We have been in contact with them only for the past three chronons, Wisest," said the scout. "The amount of reliable information we have gathered is unfortunately scanty. And what we know isn't good news." Intrepid Rogon illuminated the overhead viewer, and a field of stars swam into view.
"Here are the 80 homeworlds of our own Graceful Community," said Intrepid Rogon, limning a compact bundle of points with a red glow. "We have been running into the Nomar here, along the spinward front. We can't be certain, but we believe this to be the approximate volume of the space they control." Another portion of the star field glowed green. Some of the council members gasped.
"So large an area compared to ours," murmured Wise Hnan. Intrepid Rogon nodded.
"At least four hundred homeworlds, Wise One," he said. "And they are expanding aggressively. The Nomar are organized, efficient and warlike. Their technology is first-rate. They have powerful leadership, and they appear to have a religious mandate to conquer all of known space. I consider the threat posed to the Graceful Community to be extreme, council members. Should a total commitment military conflict arise between us and the Nomar, the Nomar will inevitably prevail."
There was a stunned silence as the council digested this analysis. Within her Nest of Oversight, Wisest Sapieri stirred.
"Then it would seem that we have little choice," she said. "We must use The Weapon."
The council buzzed. None disagreed openly, and many nodded, but using The Weapon was a matter of extreme gravity. Wisest Sapieri waved her multicolored fronds for silence.
"Intrepid Rogon," she intoned, "I leave this matter in your hands. Enter the atmosphere of the interdicted world and bring forth a human, then leave it where the Nomar will find it."
Intrepid Rogon bowed three times. "I shall do this or die trying, Wisest," he said.
"Yes, but be careful," Wisest Sapieri advised. "I don't need to tell you how dangerous humans are."
Smith sat in the chair uneasily. It's bad enough being questioned under harsh lights. It never helps when your interrogators look like enormous lobsters.
"smith-Thrall," said the short purple one, "your story makes no sense. We found you on a rocky moonlet wearing only an atmospheric suit, with no sign of a craft nearby and with your life support chemicals at dangerously low levels. How did you get there?"
"I don't know," said Smith.
"Your technology is too primitive to be consistent with trans-stellar travel," pressed the Nomar Thinker. "By what mechanism did you find yourself on that planetary body?"
"I don't know," repeated Smith helplessly.
One of the large, fat black lobsters reached out a palp and pressed a button. Smith's entire body spasmed, and his world went fuzzy for a while.
"Now, now," said the purple lobster, its voice being translated via some sort of decoding box mounted on the wall of Smith's quarantine cell. "I don't believe normal conditioning treatments are mandated in this case, werg-Doer. It may be genuinely confused, or it may be insane. Let us discover which. smith-Thrall, supposing you tell us what you *do* know about your situation, hm?"
Smith shook his head to clear it. "Well," he said slowly, "I had just gone EVA to repair the AVSTAR satellite; it had lost a communication module. I was about to open up the comm hatch when I felt funny all of a sudden. After that I'm not really sure what happened. My next memory is finding myself on that weird asteroid. I was down to an hour of air when you picked me up. I swear, that's all I know."
"skur-Thinker, we should destroy it," said werg-Doer. "It's clearly a plant of the Graceful Community. I don't know what sort of game those pacifist weaklings are playing at…"
"Nor do I, werg-Doer," replied skur-Thinker. "And that's why we cannot destroy this 'human'. I need more information. I'm sorry, werg-Doer; it's a Thinker weakness." He clacked his palps in a gesture of self-deprecation.
"This creature could be some kind of a trap," said werg-Doer suspiciously.
"Yes, but of what nature?" asked skur-Thinker. "It's behind quarantine, so it can't hurt us virally or chemically; we've scanned it on every wavelength and it contains no weapons or explosives. I don't think it's intelligent enough to escape…"
"You know I can hear you, right?" called Smith.
"….as it has just amply demonstrated," continued skur-Thinker smoothly. "So, what harm could it be to keep it here, locked up, where we can investigate it at our leisure?"
werg-Doer arched its gill-slits in a gesture of agreement. "Makes a lot of sense," he said. "That's why you're the Thinker and I'm the Doer."
"We make a great team, you and I," said skur-Thinker, and he clasped werg-Doer's palps amiably. "I'm glad we're working together again. I need to give my Cyclic Report to my section chief, but I'll be back this way again shortly. Observe the human and tell me if anything interesting happens, okay?"
"It is a good plan," replied werg-Doer. skur-Thinker stepped back and saluted.
"All Stars for Mur," he chanted.
"All Stars for Mur," werg-Doer replied.
**
When skur-Thinker returned, werg-Doer took him to see the human. They watched Smith in his glassed-in environment. The human had been made comfortable by providing furnishings and equipment to its specifications; Smith had a sleeping area, table and chair, and even an exercise treadmill. Analysis of Smith's stomach contents had allowed the synthesis of food and drink that were palatable and nutritious. But Smith never left his enclosure and the tight, vacuum-sealed quarantine area of the Nomar forward base.
"We've prepared a comprehensive report," said werg-Doer. "Smith is quite talkative; as you suggested, with no other stimulation to keep him happy, he talks with us."
"I can still hear you," Smith said, slumped idly in his chair.
"He's told us a great deal about his homeworld," continued werg-Doer. "They call it Earth. It's buried deep in the heart of Graceful Community space, but they're not part of the society. He's never even heard of the Graceful Community."
"That's odd," replied skur-Thinker. "If they're about to develop a trans-stellar culture, you'd think they would have been contacted."
"That's what worries me," said werg-Doer. "Anyway, what news from on high?"
"I was granted an audience with yull-Leader," said skur-Thinker. "The plan is to push on into Graceful Community space sooner rather than later. The general sense is that military preparedness is high on our part and low on theirs, and allowing more time to elapse cannot improve the situation. So, we can expect the first fleets to arrive rather soon now."
"Oh, that's just wonderful," said werg-Doer, nictating his antennae in annoyance. "That's all we need, a bunch of gold crabs all over the place."
skur-Thinker cocked its eyestalks inquisitively. "Now werg-Doer," he chided, "you know husp-Fighter and his troops do great work. We're all part of Mur's Plan, you know."
werg-Doer grasped skur-Thinker's palps. "Of course I know that. I didn't mean to be so negative. I think I need more rest, frankly."
"I'll synthesize a relaxant," said skur-Thinker solicitously. "For the coming conflict, we'll need all our Doers fresh and ready to Do!"
"I'll take a relaxant too," said Smith.
"Silence, smith-Thrall," said werg-Doer absently. "All Stars for Mur."
"All Stars for Mur," agreed skur-Thinker.
**
The golden attack-ships of the fleet cruised gracefully overhead. werg-Doer was fuming.
"This is a forward base, not a glorified fueling depot," grumbled the Doer chief. "I know we're all in this for the Greater Glory of Mur, but the Golds are taking my resources away from other important tasks. Who gave husp-Fighter the authority to commandeer all the Tritium?"
"I don't know; I just don't know," said skur-Thinker, working his mouth-parts to indicate general anxiety. "I don't like the way our leadership is engaging the enemy; it's too fractured an approach. On the one hand I see orders to strike deep into Graceful Community territory and disrupt shipping; but then there are commands to initiate diplomatic discussions to develop a line of demarcation along the Centauran Apex. Are we pressing forward or aren't we?"
"It makes me nervous to see you like this, skur-Thinker," werg-Doer confided. "We are a race ascendant; why should we be concerned?"
"I just need something else to think about for a while," said skur-Thinker. "How's smith-Thrall doing?"
"You could ask me yourself," Smith suggested. He had filled his enclosure with watercolor paintings. None of them were any good.
"I now know everything I should ever care to know about the humans and their ridiculous homeworld," said werg-Doer. "It seems like a terrible place, full of free water vapor and only one sun. It sounds as if the humans spend most of their time fighting."
"Naw," said Smith. "Well, kind of."
skur-Thinker curled his hindpalps in an expression of puzzlement. "If they're isolated on their homeworld," he said, "who are they fighting with?"
"That's the strange thing," replied werg-Doer. "They fight with each other."
"Especially the Chinese," added Smith. "Those guys suck."
"Who or what are the Chinese?" asked skur-Thinker.
"Other humans," werg-Doer confirmed.
"How very peculiar," mused skur-Thinker. "A sentient species that wars with itself. I suppose the lack of competition with other sentient species must have forced them to compete with themselves in order to drive the evolutionary cycle."
"That sounds like your department," werg-Doer observed. "You chew on that for a while; I apparently have to scare up ten engine repair drones for the indefinite use of the beloved fleet. How I'm supposed to repair my own engines has not yet been adequately explained."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said skur-Thinker absently. He was pondering the human situation.
"Yes," said werg-Doer absently. "Well, All Stars for Mur."
"Yes, yes," muttered skur-Thinker, wandering away. werg-Doer blinked after him. For Nomar, blinking means the same thing it does for humans.
**
Explosions rocked the forward base. werg-Doer and skur-Thinker both sheltered behind the thick glass wall of Smith's quarantine enclosure. Smith hid under his mattress.
"What in Mur's Glory is going on?" demanded skur-Thinker. "I leave for two millicycles and the conflict goes to hell! How did the Graceful Community manage to strike so deeply into Nomar space?"
"Oh, this isn't the Community," werg-Doer replied grimly. "That's our old golden friend husp-Fighter up there, dropping concussion devices to teach us a lesson."
The eyes of skur-Thinker bulged in his eyestalks. "What?" he sputtered. "How?"
"Friendly fire, man," mourned the muffled voice of Smith. "Don't you guys have movies?"
"Don't blame me!" replied werg-Doer hotly. "Those Fighters are thieves, plain and simple! They drained all my hydroponic tanks, every one! Now what are us Doers supposed to live on while they're off fighting their war, I wonder?"
Another explosion rocked the facility. "I imagine there's more to this story, yes?" urged skur-Thinker.
werg-Doer hedged. "Yes," he admitted, "well, I had to do something, didn't I? So I had a few repair drones 'malfunction' and go up and accidentally crash an ambulance ship. We had to salvage the supplies before hard space ruined them, right?"
"I can't believe you're fighting; you're really fighting with our own fleet," marveled skur-Thinker.
"And why not?!" demanded werg-Doer, his anger turning his black carapace an ashen grey. "I can't molt without tripping over a stupid Gold! And I do mean 'stupid' literally; they may be good fighters, but none of them can think their way out of a plastic bubble. You can see it in their squinty little eyes…"
"You're starting to sound like Smith," skur-Thinker observed.
"Oh, now don't you start," werg-Doer said in disgust. "You Purples just love to lord it over everybody else, don't you?"
"Can't we all just get along?" complained Smith.
"werg-Doer, this has to stop," said skur-Thinker, retreating. "I'm going to go file a report with our leadership. Please, for Mur's Glory, make peace with husp-Fighter!"
"Oh, I'll make peace with him all right," grunted werg-Doer. "Half his ships are still hooked up to the fuel lines. Let's see how their cores like it when their Tritium comes with a little surprise."
"Please, werg-Doer," pleaded skur-Thinker. "All Stars for Mur."
"Mur be hanged!" shouted werg-Doer. skur-Thinker fled.
**
REPORT TO LEADERSHIP
AUTHOR: skur-Thinker
SUB-HEADING: Final Report – human study
I regret to inform the Leaders that this will be my final report. My ship has been disabled and my life-support systems have failed. Fortunately, I have some last few conclusions to relate regarding the discovery of the human, smith-Thrall, on moonlet XFHS178, providing my last moments with some meaning.
It has become clear to me that indeed, as many suspected, smith-Thrall was left for us to find in order to undermine the Nomar incursion into the Graceful Community region of space. Unfortunately, this gambit appears to have succeeded. It may be too late to save the incursion – internecine hostilities between Doers and Fighters has gone to total commitment, with both sides choosing territory to defend, and Thinkers fragmenting between the two sides – but I hope it will not be too late to save our species.
In brief: humanity catalyzes hatred. It is a disease endemic to their species. The means for transmission of this hatred epidemic is not physical, psychic, energy-related or via any other vector known to us. It may be that transmission is via viral memes, but I prefer to believe that some essence of humanity is crystallized hatred. They appear to give off a field of prejudice and tribalization that has the ability to infect those who come in contact with it, and they in turn can spread it to others.
This condition appears to be universal on the human homeworld. Humans fight amongst themselves constantly. They appear to be well-adapted to such conflict, and are capable of surviving as a species despite the constant undercurrent of infighting, although there have been times in their history when they have teetered on the brink of self-annihilation; we who have never been exposed to such influences may not fare so well.
There is evidence, based on smith-Thrall's testimony, that other races have visited humanity in the past. These races have fallen prey to the human disease and, one by one, have destroyed themselves. Only the Graceful Community was able to recognize the threat and contain it before it gutted their culture. I can only pray that we will be able to isolate our own beloved race into quarantined compartments to keep this infection from becoming a pandemic.
If there is any shred of hope, it is that not all sentients are as susceptible to this disease. Some, such as my old and newly deceased friend werg-Doer, swiftly succumb to the worst of the symptoms. Others, amongst whom I count myself, are minimally affected. Even if hate consumes our culture, I hope that some shreds of what is good about the Nomar will persist and continue to enrich the universe.
I hope this information will prove useful. I would bid you All Stars for Mur, but I suspect that Mur must be content with only some of them, and those jealously guarded by a few from the rest. So I will merely say goodbye, as the humans do, and good luck.
PS: I considered destroying smith-Thrall, but as I wasn't sure if that was the hate talking, I left him in his enclosure. What happens to him next is up to you. Consider weaponizing him instead of slaughtering him. That's all.
**
"And so the council will see," Intrepid Rogon concluded, "that the Nomar thrust has been blunted. We have lost some territory, yes, but the core of our Community remains intact. The Nomar, meanwhile, are divided and squabble amongst themselves. They will not threaten us for some time."
"Well done, well done," congratulated Wisest Sapieri warmly. "Your efforts have saved this Graceful Community." The council rose ensemble to applaud Intrepid Rogon, who bowed respectfully.
"Now be certain," continued Wisest Sapieri, "to advise the frontier communities to avoid all contact with the Nomar from now on. They are to be quarantined entirely, as shall be any who accidentally contact them."
"Yes, of course, Wisest," replied Intrepid Rogon, bowing three times. But inside he was perturbed. Does she think I am a child, or an amateur, he thought, incapable of making the most obvious decisions without direction?
May you choke on your multi-colored fronds, he thought with disgust.
Intrepid Rogon stepped to the speaking podium. "We have been in contact with them only for the past three chronons, Wisest," said the scout. "The amount of reliable information we have gathered is unfortunately scanty. And what we know isn't good news." Intrepid Rogon illuminated the overhead viewer, and a field of stars swam into view.
"Here are the 80 homeworlds of our own Graceful Community," said Intrepid Rogon, limning a compact bundle of points with a red glow. "We have been running into the Nomar here, along the spinward front. We can't be certain, but we believe this to be the approximate volume of the space they control." Another portion of the star field glowed green. Some of the council members gasped.
"So large an area compared to ours," murmured Wise Hnan. Intrepid Rogon nodded.
"At least four hundred homeworlds, Wise One," he said. "And they are expanding aggressively. The Nomar are organized, efficient and warlike. Their technology is first-rate. They have powerful leadership, and they appear to have a religious mandate to conquer all of known space. I consider the threat posed to the Graceful Community to be extreme, council members. Should a total commitment military conflict arise between us and the Nomar, the Nomar will inevitably prevail."
There was a stunned silence as the council digested this analysis. Within her Nest of Oversight, Wisest Sapieri stirred.
"Then it would seem that we have little choice," she said. "We must use The Weapon."
The council buzzed. None disagreed openly, and many nodded, but using The Weapon was a matter of extreme gravity. Wisest Sapieri waved her multicolored fronds for silence.
"Intrepid Rogon," she intoned, "I leave this matter in your hands. Enter the atmosphere of the interdicted world and bring forth a human, then leave it where the Nomar will find it."
Intrepid Rogon bowed three times. "I shall do this or die trying, Wisest," he said.
"Yes, but be careful," Wisest Sapieri advised. "I don't need to tell you how dangerous humans are."
Smith sat in the chair uneasily. It's bad enough being questioned under harsh lights. It never helps when your interrogators look like enormous lobsters.
"smith-Thrall," said the short purple one, "your story makes no sense. We found you on a rocky moonlet wearing only an atmospheric suit, with no sign of a craft nearby and with your life support chemicals at dangerously low levels. How did you get there?"
"I don't know," said Smith.
"Your technology is too primitive to be consistent with trans-stellar travel," pressed the Nomar Thinker. "By what mechanism did you find yourself on that planetary body?"
"I don't know," repeated Smith helplessly.
One of the large, fat black lobsters reached out a palp and pressed a button. Smith's entire body spasmed, and his world went fuzzy for a while.
"Now, now," said the purple lobster, its voice being translated via some sort of decoding box mounted on the wall of Smith's quarantine cell. "I don't believe normal conditioning treatments are mandated in this case, werg-Doer. It may be genuinely confused, or it may be insane. Let us discover which. smith-Thrall, supposing you tell us what you *do* know about your situation, hm?"
Smith shook his head to clear it. "Well," he said slowly, "I had just gone EVA to repair the AVSTAR satellite; it had lost a communication module. I was about to open up the comm hatch when I felt funny all of a sudden. After that I'm not really sure what happened. My next memory is finding myself on that weird asteroid. I was down to an hour of air when you picked me up. I swear, that's all I know."
"skur-Thinker, we should destroy it," said werg-Doer. "It's clearly a plant of the Graceful Community. I don't know what sort of game those pacifist weaklings are playing at…"
"Nor do I, werg-Doer," replied skur-Thinker. "And that's why we cannot destroy this 'human'. I need more information. I'm sorry, werg-Doer; it's a Thinker weakness." He clacked his palps in a gesture of self-deprecation.
"This creature could be some kind of a trap," said werg-Doer suspiciously.
"Yes, but of what nature?" asked skur-Thinker. "It's behind quarantine, so it can't hurt us virally or chemically; we've scanned it on every wavelength and it contains no weapons or explosives. I don't think it's intelligent enough to escape…"
"You know I can hear you, right?" called Smith.
"….as it has just amply demonstrated," continued skur-Thinker smoothly. "So, what harm could it be to keep it here, locked up, where we can investigate it at our leisure?"
werg-Doer arched its gill-slits in a gesture of agreement. "Makes a lot of sense," he said. "That's why you're the Thinker and I'm the Doer."
"We make a great team, you and I," said skur-Thinker, and he clasped werg-Doer's palps amiably. "I'm glad we're working together again. I need to give my Cyclic Report to my section chief, but I'll be back this way again shortly. Observe the human and tell me if anything interesting happens, okay?"
"It is a good plan," replied werg-Doer. skur-Thinker stepped back and saluted.
"All Stars for Mur," he chanted.
"All Stars for Mur," werg-Doer replied.
**
When skur-Thinker returned, werg-Doer took him to see the human. They watched Smith in his glassed-in environment. The human had been made comfortable by providing furnishings and equipment to its specifications; Smith had a sleeping area, table and chair, and even an exercise treadmill. Analysis of Smith's stomach contents had allowed the synthesis of food and drink that were palatable and nutritious. But Smith never left his enclosure and the tight, vacuum-sealed quarantine area of the Nomar forward base.
"We've prepared a comprehensive report," said werg-Doer. "Smith is quite talkative; as you suggested, with no other stimulation to keep him happy, he talks with us."
"I can still hear you," Smith said, slumped idly in his chair.
"He's told us a great deal about his homeworld," continued werg-Doer. "They call it Earth. It's buried deep in the heart of Graceful Community space, but they're not part of the society. He's never even heard of the Graceful Community."
"That's odd," replied skur-Thinker. "If they're about to develop a trans-stellar culture, you'd think they would have been contacted."
"That's what worries me," said werg-Doer. "Anyway, what news from on high?"
"I was granted an audience with yull-Leader," said skur-Thinker. "The plan is to push on into Graceful Community space sooner rather than later. The general sense is that military preparedness is high on our part and low on theirs, and allowing more time to elapse cannot improve the situation. So, we can expect the first fleets to arrive rather soon now."
"Oh, that's just wonderful," said werg-Doer, nictating his antennae in annoyance. "That's all we need, a bunch of gold crabs all over the place."
skur-Thinker cocked its eyestalks inquisitively. "Now werg-Doer," he chided, "you know husp-Fighter and his troops do great work. We're all part of Mur's Plan, you know."
werg-Doer grasped skur-Thinker's palps. "Of course I know that. I didn't mean to be so negative. I think I need more rest, frankly."
"I'll synthesize a relaxant," said skur-Thinker solicitously. "For the coming conflict, we'll need all our Doers fresh and ready to Do!"
"I'll take a relaxant too," said Smith.
"Silence, smith-Thrall," said werg-Doer absently. "All Stars for Mur."
"All Stars for Mur," agreed skur-Thinker.
**
The golden attack-ships of the fleet cruised gracefully overhead. werg-Doer was fuming.
"This is a forward base, not a glorified fueling depot," grumbled the Doer chief. "I know we're all in this for the Greater Glory of Mur, but the Golds are taking my resources away from other important tasks. Who gave husp-Fighter the authority to commandeer all the Tritium?"
"I don't know; I just don't know," said skur-Thinker, working his mouth-parts to indicate general anxiety. "I don't like the way our leadership is engaging the enemy; it's too fractured an approach. On the one hand I see orders to strike deep into Graceful Community territory and disrupt shipping; but then there are commands to initiate diplomatic discussions to develop a line of demarcation along the Centauran Apex. Are we pressing forward or aren't we?"
"It makes me nervous to see you like this, skur-Thinker," werg-Doer confided. "We are a race ascendant; why should we be concerned?"
"I just need something else to think about for a while," said skur-Thinker. "How's smith-Thrall doing?"
"You could ask me yourself," Smith suggested. He had filled his enclosure with watercolor paintings. None of them were any good.
"I now know everything I should ever care to know about the humans and their ridiculous homeworld," said werg-Doer. "It seems like a terrible place, full of free water vapor and only one sun. It sounds as if the humans spend most of their time fighting."
"Naw," said Smith. "Well, kind of."
skur-Thinker curled his hindpalps in an expression of puzzlement. "If they're isolated on their homeworld," he said, "who are they fighting with?"
"That's the strange thing," replied werg-Doer. "They fight with each other."
"Especially the Chinese," added Smith. "Those guys suck."
"Who or what are the Chinese?" asked skur-Thinker.
"Other humans," werg-Doer confirmed.
"How very peculiar," mused skur-Thinker. "A sentient species that wars with itself. I suppose the lack of competition with other sentient species must have forced them to compete with themselves in order to drive the evolutionary cycle."
"That sounds like your department," werg-Doer observed. "You chew on that for a while; I apparently have to scare up ten engine repair drones for the indefinite use of the beloved fleet. How I'm supposed to repair my own engines has not yet been adequately explained."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said skur-Thinker absently. He was pondering the human situation.
"Yes," said werg-Doer absently. "Well, All Stars for Mur."
"Yes, yes," muttered skur-Thinker, wandering away. werg-Doer blinked after him. For Nomar, blinking means the same thing it does for humans.
**
Explosions rocked the forward base. werg-Doer and skur-Thinker both sheltered behind the thick glass wall of Smith's quarantine enclosure. Smith hid under his mattress.
"What in Mur's Glory is going on?" demanded skur-Thinker. "I leave for two millicycles and the conflict goes to hell! How did the Graceful Community manage to strike so deeply into Nomar space?"
"Oh, this isn't the Community," werg-Doer replied grimly. "That's our old golden friend husp-Fighter up there, dropping concussion devices to teach us a lesson."
The eyes of skur-Thinker bulged in his eyestalks. "What?" he sputtered. "How?"
"Friendly fire, man," mourned the muffled voice of Smith. "Don't you guys have movies?"
"Don't blame me!" replied werg-Doer hotly. "Those Fighters are thieves, plain and simple! They drained all my hydroponic tanks, every one! Now what are us Doers supposed to live on while they're off fighting their war, I wonder?"
Another explosion rocked the facility. "I imagine there's more to this story, yes?" urged skur-Thinker.
werg-Doer hedged. "Yes," he admitted, "well, I had to do something, didn't I? So I had a few repair drones 'malfunction' and go up and accidentally crash an ambulance ship. We had to salvage the supplies before hard space ruined them, right?"
"I can't believe you're fighting; you're really fighting with our own fleet," marveled skur-Thinker.
"And why not?!" demanded werg-Doer, his anger turning his black carapace an ashen grey. "I can't molt without tripping over a stupid Gold! And I do mean 'stupid' literally; they may be good fighters, but none of them can think their way out of a plastic bubble. You can see it in their squinty little eyes…"
"You're starting to sound like Smith," skur-Thinker observed.
"Oh, now don't you start," werg-Doer said in disgust. "You Purples just love to lord it over everybody else, don't you?"
"Can't we all just get along?" complained Smith.
"werg-Doer, this has to stop," said skur-Thinker, retreating. "I'm going to go file a report with our leadership. Please, for Mur's Glory, make peace with husp-Fighter!"
"Oh, I'll make peace with him all right," grunted werg-Doer. "Half his ships are still hooked up to the fuel lines. Let's see how their cores like it when their Tritium comes with a little surprise."
"Please, werg-Doer," pleaded skur-Thinker. "All Stars for Mur."
"Mur be hanged!" shouted werg-Doer. skur-Thinker fled.
**
REPORT TO LEADERSHIP
AUTHOR: skur-Thinker
SUB-HEADING: Final Report – human study
I regret to inform the Leaders that this will be my final report. My ship has been disabled and my life-support systems have failed. Fortunately, I have some last few conclusions to relate regarding the discovery of the human, smith-Thrall, on moonlet XFHS178, providing my last moments with some meaning.
It has become clear to me that indeed, as many suspected, smith-Thrall was left for us to find in order to undermine the Nomar incursion into the Graceful Community region of space. Unfortunately, this gambit appears to have succeeded. It may be too late to save the incursion – internecine hostilities between Doers and Fighters has gone to total commitment, with both sides choosing territory to defend, and Thinkers fragmenting between the two sides – but I hope it will not be too late to save our species.
In brief: humanity catalyzes hatred. It is a disease endemic to their species. The means for transmission of this hatred epidemic is not physical, psychic, energy-related or via any other vector known to us. It may be that transmission is via viral memes, but I prefer to believe that some essence of humanity is crystallized hatred. They appear to give off a field of prejudice and tribalization that has the ability to infect those who come in contact with it, and they in turn can spread it to others.
This condition appears to be universal on the human homeworld. Humans fight amongst themselves constantly. They appear to be well-adapted to such conflict, and are capable of surviving as a species despite the constant undercurrent of infighting, although there have been times in their history when they have teetered on the brink of self-annihilation; we who have never been exposed to such influences may not fare so well.
There is evidence, based on smith-Thrall's testimony, that other races have visited humanity in the past. These races have fallen prey to the human disease and, one by one, have destroyed themselves. Only the Graceful Community was able to recognize the threat and contain it before it gutted their culture. I can only pray that we will be able to isolate our own beloved race into quarantined compartments to keep this infection from becoming a pandemic.
If there is any shred of hope, it is that not all sentients are as susceptible to this disease. Some, such as my old and newly deceased friend werg-Doer, swiftly succumb to the worst of the symptoms. Others, amongst whom I count myself, are minimally affected. Even if hate consumes our culture, I hope that some shreds of what is good about the Nomar will persist and continue to enrich the universe.
I hope this information will prove useful. I would bid you All Stars for Mur, but I suspect that Mur must be content with only some of them, and those jealously guarded by a few from the rest. So I will merely say goodbye, as the humans do, and good luck.
PS: I considered destroying smith-Thrall, but as I wasn't sure if that was the hate talking, I left him in his enclosure. What happens to him next is up to you. Consider weaponizing him instead of slaughtering him. That's all.
**
"And so the council will see," Intrepid Rogon concluded, "that the Nomar thrust has been blunted. We have lost some territory, yes, but the core of our Community remains intact. The Nomar, meanwhile, are divided and squabble amongst themselves. They will not threaten us for some time."
"Well done, well done," congratulated Wisest Sapieri warmly. "Your efforts have saved this Graceful Community." The council rose ensemble to applaud Intrepid Rogon, who bowed respectfully.
"Now be certain," continued Wisest Sapieri, "to advise the frontier communities to avoid all contact with the Nomar from now on. They are to be quarantined entirely, as shall be any who accidentally contact them."
"Yes, of course, Wisest," replied Intrepid Rogon, bowing three times. But inside he was perturbed. Does she think I am a child, or an amateur, he thought, incapable of making the most obvious decisions without direction?
May you choke on your multi-colored fronds, he thought with disgust.
