LF Friends, Will Travel

Jan Eagles stared down at the document in front of him. This was bad, this was terrible, this was… It was like a bout of exceptionally bad food poisoning, the more he read it the worse it got and just didn’t stop. As you went through the events, every time you thought the Raha had hit rock bottom, they’d once again find another level of depravity.

The buzzer sounded once again, the signal that someone was at the door to his office. A buzzer that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. He knew exactly who was on the other side of that door: Unk’gar, the Estorian diplomat. No more fancy velvet letters and snide comments: the Raha he had met before had been desperately trying to talk with Jan.

The Terran however had been spending the last twenty minutes trying to calm down, trying to bring the anger to a manageable simmer. The diplomat was a master at never snapping, never letting even the worst of the worst get to him. But these actions… If anything as time went on he got more and more angry.

Jan pressed a button to unlock the door, seeing the entrance slide open and revealing a very nervous looking Raha on the other side, antenna twitching and wringing its little talon like hands. The Terran made a motion towards the chair opposite his desk which the insect quickly took.

“Greetings bright one, I am so glad we could talk before this gets out of hand, we need to-”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t get to talk, I talk.”

The Raha was silenced by the pure fury emanating from Jan as Unk’gar sat there, silently across from the Terran, squirming in his seat. Somehow those words coming from the normally soft spoken Jan made them more terrifying. Honestly, even the Terran was slightly concerned with how he felt: the anger was like a burning in his chest, he hadn’t felt this way since… well since before going into stasis.

“Let's go over what happened shall we. First a member of your royal family attacks a Terran vessel, injuring one and enslaving another, which breaks all of our previous agreements.”

“It is highly regrettable that prince Hakthas made the mistake of not verifying such an action, we didn’t know about-”

“Don’t. Bullshit. Me.” The Terran interrupted the snivelling excuses of the insect in front of him, a tone that stated there was no way argue against the pure rage emanating from the diplomat. “We’re not really annoyed with that part, because your arsehole prince got himself killed doing that. Good riddance frankly.”

Jan took a moment to glance back down at the document in his hands, as if the events that had happened over the past week hadn’t been burned into his brain at this point.

“Your reaction to this was to board a Ritlian research vessel, killing everyone. You did this might I add, by breaking the safe harbour law; the only treaty the both of us have agreed to. We’ve informed the rest of the Federation species about this so I’m sure every Estorian space captain is going to be thrilled to realise that nobody is going to save their ass anymore.”

Unk’gar looked as if he was going to interject, which the Terran immediately held a finger out to cut them off so they could continue.

“You used this ship to attack a research station, killing all three scientists inside. Research that was going to revolutionise medical technology in the galaxy, research that has been set back by at least ten years. You do all this, while also failing to accomplish any of your actual goals!”

“The Raha royal house regrets that Lut’har chose such unsanctioned actions against the Terran Alliance, we-”

Jan slammed his fist onto the table, causing the opposing diplomat to jump in his chair.

“An AI captured his ship! We have all your communications, we know you gave express permission and had knowledge of his actions before he took them. Your lies are insulting.”

The Terran was practically baring his teeth at this point, the ever calm and ever friendly Jan Eagles was losing his temper.

“Maybe if it was just that we could work something out. But in those three scientists, you killed an uplift, a dog. No I’m incorrect, you tortured a dog to death. We, the Terran alliance, are done with you.”

Jan reached into his desk, pulling out a document he had already prepared, and handed it over to Unk’gar.

“You have three hours to decide whether to accept these terms. We expect the Raha Royal house to leave the Estorian Empire and submit to vassalization by the Terran conclave.”

Unk’gar’s antenna twitched wildly as he read the proposal, worry and shock emanating from his entire body.

“They won’t accept this, we can look at reparations but-”

“Accept it, or we know where this is heading.”

—--------------------------------

“So the package provides standard maintenance, teardown and rebuild. We’ll have your friend running like new”

Tchizak couldn’t really smile, the brown exoskeleton plates that made up the Kirken face didn’t allow for such a movement, but the 3ft tall insect had long ago worked out that tilting your head slightly to the side gave off the same impression to Terrans. Yes, Tchizak had become very very adept at conversing with the deathworlder apes who called themselves Terrans.

It had all started fifteen years ago, when a chance meeting with a Terran looking to get their cleaning droid fixed, had spiralled into a business opportunity that had made him and his boss very rich. That original store still existed, “Ptatch’s tower of repair”, still a messy amalgamation of oil, scrap parts and pure ingenuity that promised to fix anything, anywhere. This was a far cry from the expensive modernised saleroom Tchizak was currently stood in, decor of white and silver showing off the various services and accessories that “Ptatch’s Droid Hospital” provided.

It had started slowly. He’d done the crazy thing the original Terran had asked of him: Fixed up a now obsolete cleaning droid that the deathworlder had pack bonded with and called “Cleany McCleanface”. Then that Terran had told others. Slowly, but surely, more had come; hundred of them, each clutching broken down machines that nobody sane wanted to fix.

After that they had started going into accessories. New startup tunes, CPU upgrades, case upgrades, accessories of the mundane and dangerous. Tchizak had soon learned that if you stated you could “heal” a Terran’s mechanical friend, as well as give them fun new accessories, then they practically fell over themselves to throw credits at you.

Their biggest store was the one he was working at now, on the Kirken colony named “Diamond’s Eye”, but “Ptatch’s Droid Hospital” had locations on over five planets; each one a major Terran destination. Because where Terrans went, they brought their friends with them.

“Also this comes with free installation of any additional accessories. Case replacements, addons, the works.”

This was all how Tchizak now found himself beating his small wings furiously to keep at the same eye level as the Terran opposite him, using a hand to control the soft light projector displaying the various accessories they sold. Gone were the days of dingy dangerous looking stores. Screens showing products to be purchased lined the walls, with one playing a music video from some hip new Kirken band. Everything was polished and provided a level of professional service.

For a fee of course.

“This won’t change Buddy’s internals, right? You’re not going to just try and replace him like all the other places?”

Tchizak gave another friendly head tilt. Terrans were on average 6ft of angry muscle bound ape, able to thrive on planets that would kill most Kirken. However he’d started to find them adorable. It was the same question every time, that same illogical idea that you can’t replace the machine friend they had bonded with.

What exactly defined the machine’s “life” differed between each person: some refused to replace any non critical part, preferring to keep even the most brittle and faded plastic casings. Others seemed fine as long as the motherboard or CPU wasn’t replaced. As if there was a special part of each droid that hosted the “soul”, but nobody could agree exactly what that was.

“Of course not! Mr “Buddy” will be the exact same machine. If you’re uncomfortable removing or replacing parts we can stick with external accessories.”

The Terran seemed happy with that reply, before responding, almost embarrassed.

“What about weapons…”

Of course he wanted weapons. Terrans loved taking harmless machines and making them dangerous for no apparent reason. He couldn’t tell why, but weapon attachments were their most popular selling item.

“Of course, we’ve got knife holsters in up to 6 blade configurations, chainsaw holsters and gun holders for most small arms weapon brands. All of which come with additional control modules for either autonomous or manual firing.”

“What about something… bigger.”

Tchizak took a moment to change the soft light display to show his most dangerous item.

“Claymore roomba is what you’re looking for. This attachment comes with one ornamental completely accurate Claymore.”

“Ornamental? Can I re-”

A single insectoid finger was shoved into the mouth of the Terran, shushing him instantly. While the deathworlder could have tore Tchizak limb from limb, the potential customer just looked confused.

“If you finish that sentence, I can no longer legally sell you this item.”

The Kirken took a moment to rummage around the brown satchel he was wearing, before fishing out a prewritten message from some very intelligent lawyers.

“Ptatch’s Droid Hospital would like to remind all customers that the Claymore roomba attachment is for ornamental use only, and the completely accurate and realistic design is only for Terran cultural reasons. The ornamental claymore can only be removed for cleaning purposes, and should not be replaced with a real item, as this breaks weapon trafficking laws. Ptatch’s Droid Hospital does not support the customer buying their own claymore and replacing it.”

Tchizak finished his legal spiel, the Terran seemingly understanding what he was getting at and giving a nod.

“Ok, I’ll take it!”

“Fantastic, just let me get the bill and we can start the work-”

The various screens in the sales office gave a loud high pitched tone as they all turned to a red colour, each screen showing the two words: “Emergency Broadcast”.

—------------------------------

“Confused statement: But this is impossible!”

The room was a stereotypical lab. If you asked someone to picture in their mind a generic science lab, they would describe the room they were in: With test tubes, blinking machines, hazard signs and various pieces of equipment bubbling away with unknown liquids.

Inside stood four figures, all Scythens, three of the bioluminescent bundle of tentacles were sat on their hovering disks, two of the machines denoted with the standard scientist colours, one denoting the form of a police officer. All of them were hovering around a fourth Scythen, who was most definitely not hovering: Because they were dead, splattered along the floor as if torn in two.

“Explaining statement: This can’t happen. The room was locked from the inside, and to cause this damage…” The first scientist spoke in the mechanical voice that all Scythen’s did.

“Continuing statement: Would require an object to have negative mass, but be travelling faster than light!” The second scientist responded.

The police officer floated around, occasionally prodding something as they investigated the death, leaving the two scientists to talk amongst themselves.

“Concerned statement: We’re all alone out here on the ship. What could have killed them?”

“Scared statement: I don’t know, are we going to be fine?”

“Sexual tension: Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

During this time the police officer had finished looking around, instead deciding to focus on a random cleaning droid making its way through the room.

“Revealing statement: Who drew the smiley face on this droid? I need to see the video feed for the ship.”

In an instant the feed was brought up on one of the various screens, showing the corridors of the ship over the last few hours, fast forwarded through in a few moments.

“Exclamation: Stop! Right there! Enhance!”

The video footage was paused and the single frame enlarged. It showed a 6ft tall bipedal figure, two forward facing eyes, like some form of ape. The figure was running along the floor on all fours, only wearing a basic nondescript uniform of some kind

“Shocking statement: You have a Terran on the ship!”

“OH FUCK OFF!”

Dr Johnathan Fletcher had jumped off the seat, the Terran making an angry gesture with his hand as he shouted at the TV screen. The room was small, standard crew quarters: a bed, a basic couch and some other creature comforts such as the TV attached to the wall. A TV that had been paused by the other figure in the room after the Terran’s outburst: the Scythen calling themselves Lena who was currently flashing the colours for confusion.

“Concerned question: What is wrong friend Johnathan?”

Johnathan shook his head, annoyed. It was supposed to be a fun movie night in the darkened room, to go watch some Scythen media; Lana had told him of a fun Scythen made horror movie. What he didn’t expect was to be insulted this deeply.

“Is this really how the Scythen see us… as some kind of… of… feral science goblin!”

“Clarifying statement: I don’t think anyone said ‘feral’. If it makes you feel better, it’s never the Terran’s fault”

Johnathan glared at Lana for a moment.

“Reminding statement: May I remind you that you created an unstable antimatter bomb on the ship?”

“That ended up leading to a breakthrough in energy generation!”

“Continuing point: You submerged sector A3 in dangerous acid.”

“That ended up creating a lubricant 17% more efficient than the current accepted formula!”

“Final point: You set fire to the kitchen.”

“Grilled cheese toasties don’t taste right when made using the synthesiser!”

Lana turned the colour of annoyance, deeply wishing they had a face so they could indulge in the Terran movement of ‘facepalming’

“Explaining statement: Friend Johnathan, I enjoy your company and your personality, but Terrans have a reputation they have earned. I have worked on this vessel for 49 years, during which before your employment there had been a total of 19 emergencies. Do you know how many there have been during your two years on this ship?”

Johnathan slowly began to rub the back of his neck as he realised where this was going.

“A few...”

“Answering statement: 471. I like you friend Johnathan, just sit down and enjoy the movie you feral science goblin.”

—-----------------

The movie had continued predictably. Other impossible murders took place, until the Scythen crew were able to capture the Terran using a pile of candy and a rock with eyes painted on it as bait. Just as Lana had said, in the end it turned out the captain of the ship had been the one to bring the Terran on board, due to some disagreement with a reduction in grant funding.

The end climax had involved the Terran creating a miniature blackhole to destroy the captain with; Created using nothing but a piece of string and a toaster. In the end the two main characters had started a relationship together, and the Terran had been humanely released onto a local farm which had plenty of room to run around in and lots of rocks to pack bond with.

Johnathan had to admit, Terran slander aside, it had been an enjoyable B-movie horror flick. He stepped off the seat once more, giving a stretch as he stood up.

“Well this ‘feral science goblin’ is going to head off for the night. Thanks for inviting me over Lana, it was a lot of fun to-”

The TV gave a loud high pitched tone as the screen turned to a red colour, showing the two words: “Emergency Broadcast”.

—-------------------

Dr K Xavius sat at her desk, typing away on her Galnet connector late into the night. The room was unassuming: Digital whiteboards filled every wall, equations and design schematics filling each one. Tools neatly lay in their respective docking areas, hand written notes were delicately placed into orderly piles, overall the room looked like most others at the research facility.

The fact that a Hagorthian was the one sitting at the desk was an oddity, causing most new employees of the top secret Terran research facility a bit of whiplash. The Hagorthian’s were a vicious race, apex predators with a culture of warfare and combat. Reptilian, heavily armoured, deep black scales. Each three fingered hand and foot ended in vicious razor sharp claws. Four pitch black eyes lay above a large face-spanning jaw of giant needle like teeth.

In addition to this, the Hagorthian’s were one of the five main races of the Estorian empire, so seeing one here was a huge oddity. At a glance there was nothing special about Dr Xavius, apart from her rather short stature at only 7ft tall. However just mentioning her name was enough to make most people understand why she was here.

Her name was Dr Kov Xavius, and she had cured the god plague.

By Hagorthian standards she was a failure. Her species have an interesting quirk: They never stop growing. An infinite continued growth and regeneration lead into a culture of nearly infinite desire to feed and fight. It wasn’t uncommon for mature Hagorthian’s to reach the height of 10-15 ft of pure muscle, and the recorded height of the Emperor Uzb - the current ruler of the species - was over 30. While Dr Xavius when compared with most people would be considered a dangerous accumulation of claw and strength, compared with her species she was a runt. She had hit 7ft tall at a young age, then… just stopped.

Long ago she could have fixed this genetic defect, but to do so would have removed the second side effect, one she considered far more important than just being physically strong and vicious: her mind. Nothing was out of her understanding, her memory impeccable, complex ideas and concepts were child’s play.

She had left her home planet long ago in search of anything interesting to solve, leaving behind an almost guaranteed death as a runt. It was during this search that she had found out about the Terrans. A small article written in a science journal nobody read: ”The Exception”. It talked about the strange race of AI’s that broke Zarith’s law, and about a plague that ravaged their creators, a plague they had long been trying to fix.

Dr Xavius had assumed the entire thing would take a year to complete at most, like everything else she had put her mind to. It had taken 31 years. 31 years of study, of experimentation. It had been the best 31 years of her life. During this time Xavius had grown to love the Terrans. Not for any of the sentimental reasons anyone else did, but for the simple fact that in their insanity and chaos they had provided her with the greatest puzzle.

Then, it was over. Sure others would have been teary eyed over seeing reunions between human and Uplift, human and AI. For Dr Xavius it had been a disappointment. For those thirty years she had the greatest puzzle in her claws, and now it was gone. Sure the monetary compensation had been huge, not that she needed money in Terran Conclave territory: her name alone was enough to get anything she required. Xavius secretly guessed that she could probably steal a military ship and drop an antimatter bomb on the most populated city on Earth, and get nothing more than a slap on the wrist for it.

No, what she wanted, what she needed was more puzzles. More impossible theories to be made possible. The Terrans were not the smartest species in the galaxy. But one thing that Terrans did have, was an almost psychotic aversion to the word “no”. Most species took the laws of the universe as fact and worked around them, while Terrans seemingly were offended by them.

This meant that this location was one of the few in the galaxy where exceptional amounts of money and resources were spent trying to break laws and ideals that everyone else had long ago determined to be immutable facts. Impossible challenges, impossible puzzles, with the resources to truly try and solve them.

It was everything that Dr K Xavius wanted and loved. Sure, the Terrans were way too chatty and social for her tastes, but that was a small price to pay for the gift they gave her: something, anything able to challenge her mind.

Which is what she was doing in her office, late at night furiously typing away as the Galnet Viewer gave a loud high pitched tone, the screen turning a bright red and showing the two words: “Emergency Broadcast”.

—------------------

Emergency Broadcast: Due to unforgivable actions taken by the Raha royal house, and the Estorian Empire’s unwillingness to bring those responsible for their crimes to justice, as of 71 NST, 19th of July at 17:00 the Terran Conclave is enacting section three of the Terran Alliance Agreement, the mutual defence declaration.

The Terran Alliance is now at war with the Estorian Empire.