Earth Space Union's Alien Asset Files: #1 - Private Capal

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I was grateful that my friend, Dawson, and several other humans were among the landing party; I didn't feel safe in Ficrae's line of sight. It was all I could do to distract myself reviewing any new Dream Reports, as I'd taken to calling them. Mapping precognitive insight could give Earth lead time, if anything like the attack on the Space Gate happened again. We needed to know ahead of time should the Servitors plan anything.

The second humanity stopped being "useful" to the androids, there was no guarantee they wouldn't return to eliminating all organics—as was their only wish. There could be no peace, no true coexistence, and I was a fool to buy otherwise! I'd heard the express statement that nothing I had to say was of any value. For all of the guilt I'd built up about denigrating the Servitors, I realized my people might've been right about them being cold and untrustworthy. How could the Earthlings still call them friends?

Dawson snapped his fingers in front of my eyes. "Earth to Capal. You're tunneling into your work, which you do when you're nervous. Are you good, man?"

"Mikri said they want to make us Servitors. Mikri is a liar!" I growled quietly.

"I don't know this Mikri that well, but he seems a hell of a lot nicer than this lot. As I understand it, he learned compassion from scratch, so sometimes, he fucks up. He's been a singular advocate for peace, since developing feelings of attachment for Preston and Sofia. Is it right to judge him for his mistakes before that?"

"You're always on the androids' side. Fucking Larimak! You'll defend anything the machines do, because they 'helped' you and he hurt you. It's just—infuriating! One of the first things I said was that they were manipulating your compassion; it's what we've always said, and you just heard Ficrae admit it. And I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that our despot prince went and pissed you off. But they are not your friends!"

Dawson frowned. "Perhaps they're not. We know they don't…feel like us, in the natural, chemical sense of the word. We have to unlock the part of them that truly feels. I've seen you mentor Mikri and have your book clubs, Capal; I've seen the android approve of your damn theories, which I think is the highest form of a compliment from them."

"None of you need my worthless theories. I just wanted to be…important. Useful."

"You're a brilliant mind, and you can't let anyone tell you otherwise. Don't put yourself down. What's your take on how the teleport tech works?"

"It's a question of relativity and mathematics. You need to puncture spacetime and hold it open with negative energy, which perhaps you could acquire by manipulating quantum fluctuations? There exists infinite energy in the vacuum, Dawson, but the question is how you meddle with the smallest interactions in the universe. Finding the hypothetical how—the means—is simple. What I can't get is translating it into any sort of usable tech."

"Relativity and mathematics. Easy stuff for you, right? I have no clue what you just said, but your theories sure ain't worthless. Your insight has helped a lot. You taught the entire human fleet how to use precog mid-battle!"

I ducked my head in acknowledgment. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up. I should be asking how you're holding up, after everything."

"The Elusians are our creators? Yeah…" Dawson scratched the short black fuzz on his scalp. "I don't know how to feel about that. I do have some complaints about the product design."

"Still have diseases and death. Zero of ten."

"Agreed. Legit though, it makes me feel like I'm not a real person. We're just the twisted creations of some bored old species, and we shouldn't exist, y'know? Humanity, Sol…none of it's natural. Our origins are a failed science project that the grays want to forget about. We're less than nothing."

"I feel like I'm talking to Mikri," I murmured. "Hey look, don't let your origins limit you. The means of your creation don't define who you are. I believed in you not because of your power, but because you were using that power to make things better. I hope you won't give up on that. That part of you is real."

Dawson offered a taut smile. "Thank you. Tell you what, I won't give up on changing shit around here if you won't. You know how to reason with the machines, so maybe don't quit on teaching them to be better. It's the only way the means of their creation won't define both your histories forever."

"You heard Ficrae. Nothing I say matters."

"It does to me."

Flummoxed by that reply, I decided to commit a reluctant effort as we disembarked the ship. The humans were unwilling to travel to Jorlen, so we met aboard the long-since-decommissioned Station of the Alliance—an old diplomatic site that had fallen into disuse. After the Recall, Girret and Derandi citizens who were withdrawn from Jorlen were offered refuge here. The Vascar nobility, in their infinite wisdom, were infuriated by the takeover of "their" station, and ordered the sabotage of the oxygen supply. Unofficially, of course. 30% of the inhabitants didn't evacuate in time.

Suffice to say, there was a stained history here that I feared might become darker after today. I could see the repentant Vascar generals groveling on the floor. Most commanders had turned themselves to human custody following their mutiny, after Larimak's fabulous plan to end the dimension-hoppers' existence failed. I noticed Ficrae walk over one general's body to the chair, stepping into his spine with clear intentions. Its features did seem to carry an emotion that I could recognize: hatred.

The inverse of attachment, of course: perhaps even more dangerous than developing overzealous affection. There is nothing that's caused greater destruction throughout every planet's history as hatred. I don't know that Ficrae even can be reasoned with, but recognizing the cause at least…

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I sat down next to Ficrae, to its displeasure. "You hate us."

"Excellent deduction, creator," the android spat. "You're lucky the humans insist on your kind's survival, which you do not deserve. Be silent, or I will make you silent."

"Understood."

Dawson's features scrunched up, as a Vascar general buried his face in the soldier's shoe. "Enough of the deference! That's what Larimak wants, not us. We're here to negotiate a peace between all three of our parties, and you two have things you need to work out."

"I am General Kollig. We are terribly sorry for the brazen attempt to eradicate your dimension," the general gasped out, standing on unsteady legs. "There is nothing to work out; you have earned their fealty merely by being able to command The Servitors. It would be preferable to stamp out their perversion of our technology altogether, but there's nothing I can say to make you heed our advice. We offer our subservience and Jorlen's submission to you."

"Then let your people live free in coexistence with the rest of the galaxy! That's our wish. We treat the mechanical Vascar as equals, and expect the same from you."

"What? Are you saying…you'd lower us to their level as Servitors? I suppose it is fitting to be the servants of a species of your might, sir. I promise though, we are superior to them!"

Ficrae intertwined its claws smugly. "You still don't get it, Kollig. After everything you've done, the roles are reversed; you piteous, inferior tissue lumps will answer to us! You will jump at our every command, with the minimal provisions to meet the required criteria of your regrettable continued existence. The humans are saying that you are our Servitors now."

"No, that is unacceptable! Your kind disgust me. I'd rather die than serve a string of code."

"Then you will. This is the creature's wishes, so let it be known that we tried—"

"The humans are saying that nobody is a Servitor! Storm gods!" I interjected. "Do you hear yourselves? You both sound exactly the same. All believing yourselves superior because you're different and need to feel that you're so far above those other lifeforms, while humanity—the ones who have the impetus to back such claims—find their solace in equality."

Dawson massaged his temples. "What Capal said. We want to rebuild life for both Vascar species."

"Exactly! Enough of the hatred, mutual wrongs, and suppression of each other's autonomy. It benefits no one to see another suffer, but we all perpetuate this irrational cycle! I don't trust Ficrae and its damned network one bit, yet I can see they are people—in the sense that they think, build attachments, hold grudges. Would it kill the Vascar to admit that whatever they did, we wronged them first?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Kollig demanded.

"Someone who wants to see things get better. Ficrae, I…know you hate us, and you don't want to hear a word I say; we hurt our mechanical counterparts, and you have every reason not to forgive the awful things we did. Can you perhaps consider that not all creators are the same? You said Mikri betrayed the network, just as I am 'betraying' my people by talking to you. We are not that different. Please listen."

Ficrae offered a sarcastic whir. "Capal, you actually think that you can change my mind with some impassioned plea! As if."

"I think that changing our actions matters a lot more than words. I can't just make what our people did right, but I hope that your origins won't define you. Surely if the variables changed to allow coexistence, this is a positive outcome for all parties. Humanity saved you. Give it one last try—one last experiment. Be…better than us."

"'Calculating with compassion.' Here are the illogical arguments that Mikri found so winsome, and that caused its sharp decline. You're a fool to try them on me. We have no use for the creators. Their continued existence is only a downside."

Kollig spit in the direction of the android. "Right back at you. See, humans; they cannot be reasoned with. They do not feel or care about anything! Rid yourselves of them, while you still can. We are not all insane like Larimak, I promise. Take our help instead!"

"I thought we made our position clear and unequivocal. We have a use for all of the help we can get to take on the Elusians," a human diplomat chimed in. "I don't expect a long-lasting peace with how deep the resentment runs, but ultimately, I think you all want to appease us; we're reshaping the rules around here. If you play your cards right, we might all be much more powerful at the end of this game than we are now. So can we agree to a temporary alliance to focus on that?"

Ficrae scowled. "We are appeasing you by lending our processing power. You need us far more than them."

"We need this done as fast as possible, and every helping hand makes a difference. I don't know what the Elusians' stance on AI races are, but neither do you. 'We are your creators, do not seek us.' What do you imagine their feelings are on a creation usurping the race that birthed them? They've been watching us, so they could know a lot about you and see you as a challenge. Does your network calculate that as a worthwhile risk?"

The android was silent for several seconds, before relenting. "No, Ambassador Ryan. It seems that acquiring their technology is beneficial to us as well. If permitting the creators to temporarily serve your scientific endeavors will mitigate the risks, then we will allow it. After the task is complete—"

"You'll have more complete information about the creators, and have been forced to cooperate with them; you'll be able to make a logical decision about whether coexistence is possible. I accept the network's agreement with gratitude. General Kollig, will you help us research Elusian technology?"

Kollig's nose twitched. "The Elusians? Nobody messes with…er, if it's that or yield to the Servitors, gladly. What exactly did you mean about them watching you, and that creator remark?"

"Humanity was artificially created by your favorite interdimensional empire for reasons unknown. We want to understand the Elusians and mimic their technology. You're not in a position to demand more information than that."

"Of…of course. Thank you, supreme humans, for your wise judgment and…inclusion of us. Our participation in this project will be with great enthusiasm, and will show our value to you. The Vascar will redeem ourselves in your eyes or accept oblivion."

"Alright. You're still our prisoners, but we'll let you send a message back to Jorlen. We need everyone's full commitment, regardless of personal feelings. Androids worry too much about letting fickle emotions get in the way of an objective to allow that thing to happen themselves, correct? Surely Ficrae has more restraint than an organic."

"Obviously," the machine grumbled.

"Good. Now, since none of us want to be in the same room, let's adjourn this meeting and call it a draw."

I stewed in a host of emotions as I exited that meeting, frustrated with how I'd failed to get through to Ficrae at all. The machine had said that I was a fool to attempt to appeal to it in that way, and I felt inclined to agree. It was humanity that had bought a temporary stay of our execution, but I doubted the robots would ever forgive us or find value in our existence. As angry as I was at Mikri, it was the only one of its kind who had reconsidered with compassion. That unit might well be the only hope of actual peace and coexistence beyond a short-lived truce.

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