u/rewt66dewd

I was embedded with the humans during the war against the Kar Star Empire. I was at Shonno, at the siege of the fortress, where the human troops broke the fortress wall, and then the shield wall inside it, and forced the surrender of the fortress. That forced the surrender of Shonno, which opened the way to Kar, and eventually forced the surrender of the Empire.

And humans are as terrifying as everyone says. Absolutely. I have seen them in combat, and they are incredibly effective killers and destroyers. Their reputation does not lie.

And yet...

Let me tell you about Laura.

Lieutenant Laura Koslowski headed a platoon of heavy armored infantry. She walked them through the breach in the fortress wall, right into the guns of the shield wall, trusting their armor and their training. She won, with one dead, two injured, and several with damaged armor, including herself.

After the battle, after three days of continuous combat, they returned to their carrier in orbit. When they reached the carrier, they went to their platoon's quarters to take off their armor (or get it taken off, if it was too badly damaged for them to be able to take it off themselves).

Laura laid down on the floor, so that someone could take off her armor, and this tiny little thing jumped on her.

Terran cats are small quadruped predators. They weigh about 10 pounds. A kitten is a child cat - not fully grown. They are smaller, sometimes much smaller.

This thing was a kitten. It was small, even for a kitten. It weighed no more than two pounds. And it jumped on Laura's armor.

She yelled "Stop!" to her armorer. Then, more calmly, she said, "Get that fluffhead off of me before you take my armor off. It will get hurt."

So they carefully moved this tiny kitten off of her armor, then removed the armor. She stood up, very gently picked up the kitten, and said, "Has anyone fed this little monster?"

"No, ma'am. We've been kind of busy keeping suits of armor fed."

She didn't even respond to the human. Gently and calmly, she said, "All right, little fluffhead. Let's go get you something to eat."

This human, who had just been killing armored Kar warriors, was now very gently taking care of a very tiny animal.

That's what you need to understand about humans. Yes, they can be monsters of violence. They can also be incredibly gentle and compassionate. Both. If you only see one side of that - either side, it doesn't matter which - you will badly misunderstand humans.

"Why are we told to beware the short ones?"

"Ah, my child, that requires a long explanation. Hmm, where to begin..." There was a silence while the Klarvath elder thought. "Let me begin with physics," he finally said.

"Oh, good! I love physics!"

"Different planets have different radiuses, and they also have different densities. As a result, they have different accelerations of gravity at their surface."

"Yes, elder, I know this."

"Very good. Now let us turn to biology. The higher the gravity, the stronger an organism's structure has to be in order to withstand the pull of that gravity. And the stronger its muscles have to be in order to move against that gravity." The elder paused.

"Yes, I understand."

"But there is another part of biology, child. The stronger gravity is, the more expensive it is for an organism to grow tall. Any fluid flow becomes expensive. Moving material for growth to higher levels becomes more expensive. Any horizontal motion that requires vertical motion due to the creature's geometry becomes more expensive. As a result, organisms on worlds with higher gravity tend to be shorter than organisms on worlds with lower gravity - even if they are members of the same species."

"So the shorter ones have stronger bones and stronger muscles..."

"They tend to, yes. But it is not totally consistent, because there is variation in height between members of a species, even if they are from the same planet. But if the variation in height is due to being from different planets, then yes, the shorter ones tend to be stronger."

"I understand this."

"Excellent. Now let us turn to matters of physical combat. A person with stronger bones is harder to damage, and a person with stronger muscles will have an easier time causing damage. Therefore, the sum of all of this is: Do not get in a fight with a short being, because it is likely to go badly for you."

She thought. "So what you are telling me is that I should not try to beat Billy up, no matter how much of a pest he is and how annoying he is."

"Yes, child, that is what I am telling you."

"Are you guys seeing this?" Becky demanded.

"Looks like... like someone tried to imitate the mid-20th century Las Vegas Strip, and did it badly," Ming said.

They stared at it. Finally Ming said, "It makes no sense. This is clearly fake. It's even more clear in the middle of a war zone!"

"I think maybe it does make sense," Lenny said.

"Then explain it, oh all-knowing wise one."

"See, the Bricks are basically robots. They're biological, but they follow their programming. A stimulus always gets the same response. I mean, we think that the hive can reprogram them, to some degree, but in the field they do not deviate.

"They think we're like them. They think that if they give us the right stimulus, the response will automatically follow. They're trying to outthink us, but they fundamentally don't understand us. We're not robots. We're not walking into that out here just because it looks like Sin City."

They digested that for a moment. Then Becky keyed her microphone. "Recon 2 to Main."

"Main here."

"We have found a den of iniquity."

"Say again?" Main sounded confused.

She smiled. "A den of iniquity. There's a haunt of vice out here. Bars. Casinos. Strip clubs. It's all here, and it's all fake. We think that the Bricks think we're basically robots, like them. They give us this stimulus, they expect us to go running into there looking for a good time."

A brief pause, then Main said, "So it's a kill box."

"We think so. We're sure enough that we're not volunteering to walk into it to find out."

Another brief pause. "The Bricks are going to make their kill boxes very obvious? We'll take it. All right, Recon 2, new task. Locate the Bricks that are around that kill box. Are they in it? Around it but tight? Around it but loose? Distant but ready to move? Where are they?"

"Already got them," Ming said. "Looks like a full battalion. They're in a horseshoe around the fake stuff, about 200 meters out. Coordinates are..." He rattled off a list of numbers that specified six locations, enough spots to show the shape.

"Nice work, Recon 2," Main said. "Arty is on the way. Hang out and watch the light show. And stay out of the den of iniquity."

"You've got to be kidding me," Bobby said.

"Nope," said his big brother Joe. "Not a bit. Real aliens, attacking Earth, want to destroy us all. Some of them landed in our neighborhood. They'll kill us if they can. And they're made of sodium. Bullets don't seem to hurt them. But..."

"That science video!"

"Yep."

"A waterfight," Bobby said almost reverently. "A squirt gun battle."

"Dad's gone, so in his absence I'm the man of the house. So I get his supersoaker."

Bobby looked disappointed, but couldn't really argue. "Then can I have yours? It's better than mine."

"Sure. Now, where does Dad hide his..."

It took them five minutes to find. They decided that they had better fill up inside, even if it was less efficient than the hose outside.

"All right," Joe said, "we're armed. Next step is neighborhood chat. Let's see what's going on out there."

What was going on was terror. Anybody visible was being shot with some kind of ray gun or plasma cannon or blaster or something. Nobody on the street knew what it was, but the word was clear: Don't be seen. Not even through a window. If you are, you will die.

"Great. Just great," Bobby said. "We've got the perfect thing to kill them. And we can't even get to a place where we can see them to get a shot, because if we can see them, they can see us, too."

"Do we know how many there are?"

Bobby did some scrolling. "Looks like... maybe seven?"

"And where are they?"

"Two blocks north, one west, as of... one minute ago."

"Which way are they moving?"

"Looks like east along Brook Street. Everyone's going dark there."

Joe shivered as he thought about what "everyone going dark" meant. Guys I played with... friends... He shook himself. No time. Have to stop them. How can we get at them?

He voiced it aloud. "How can we get at them, without them killing us?"

After a moment, Bobby said, "We need some kind of a diversion..."

"A diversion! Tommy, from his back yard! A water balloon over the house, from his launcher! His back yard is fenced really well, so they won't see him! And then we come in on the alley just east of there!"

Bobby was typing furiously. "Sent."

"Now we have to move fast." Joe headed out the door.

"Faster than that! Bikes!"

Joe felt stupid. "Right!"

-----

In the alley, off the bikes, hidden behind the Grimsons' house, they could hear something coming down the street. They could hear an occasional hissing sound, which they assumed was the aliens' guns. They waited tensely, guns in hand.

Then, above the house, they saw the water balloon. They heard it hit. They gave it a half second for the aliens to turn, and then charged out of the alley.

There were in fact seven aliens. Three were already on fire from the water balloon. Joe and Bobby hosed down the other four, then gave an extra shot to whichever ones looked like they weren't burning enough.

Then, when they were sure that the aliens were dead, they were able to relax.

And then they were able to think. To think about the street, and the people who lived on it. Lived. Past tense.

"We did it," Bobby sobbed. "But all those people... Jeremiah... Sarah... Johnny..."

"Maybe not," Joe said. And then he shouted as loud as he could, "Olly olly oxen free!"

They waited, holding their breath.

Tommy was the first to appear. They ran to him.

"Tommy! Great job! You got three of them!"

"Carve that onto your launcher!"

Tommy laughed. Then he stopped laughing. Nathan was coming toward them.

Alone.

Nathan was always with his big brother Jeremiah. And now he wasn't.

"Jeremiah?" Joe asked quietly.

Nathan shook his head, sobbing. "He told me to stay down. He tried to do something. And he..."

They held him as he wept.

While he was crying, the circle got larger. Sarah joined them, also crying. Then Jamal. Then Ruth. And then Scotty.

And then no more came.

When they finally stopped crying, they took stock.

"Who did we lose?"

"Jeremiah." Nathan started crying again.

"Johnny."

"Pablo."

"Carmela."

"My mom," Ruth said softly.

"We won," Tommy said. "Great thinking, Joe. Good communication, everybody. We won. But..." And he collapsed on the ground, sobbing.

"Tom, you're back! Is it true we're at war with aliens?"

"Hi, sis! No, it's not true. I mean, we got fired on once, but it was no big deal."

"No big deal? Getting fired on?"

"Well, it wasn't. The aliens we found have all been really unimpressive. It seems that Earth's secret advantage is sex."

She blushed furiously. "They say that... that humans will... will..."

"Oh, I know what they say. And it's not really true. A few humans will. Not all. Not most. Not even many. Just a few. But that isn't what I meant at all. It appears that sex is an Earth-only thing. None of the aliens we found reproduce sexually at all."

"They... what?"

"They don't have sex," he explained. "Not just 'they don't do the action', they don't have a sex. They only have one set of genes, not two. They reproduce by cloning. And it's a huge weakness for them. They don't have the genetic diversity that we have, so they're much more vulnerable to disease. And since they're copies of each other, there don't have very many people in their society who can think differently - for the species that even made it to intelligence! So they progress really slowly. We're going to run circles around them, even the ones who are intelligent."

"But they made it into space! They fired on you!"

"Yeah, they did. But just barely. I mean, their ship was like the original Apollo moon lander with a shotgun strapped onto it. Literally, that's what it was like. That... let's just say it wasn't any kind of a threat. If we wind up at war with them, don't worry about us, all right? We'll be fine."

"But... why did they fire on you?"

"We don't know, sis. We didn't have any conversation with them while this was going on. But I think I can make a guess. They're a monoculture for the most part, and their genetic drive - from the ones we've seen - is to work with everyone genetically identical to them, and compete or fight with everyone who isn't identical to them. Well, we weren't identical, so they fought us."

"And they're going to keep fighting us."

"Probably, yes. But we're way ahead of them, and we progress far faster, so we're going to stay ahead of them. All because Earth has sex. Who knew?"

That afternoon, after she learned her fate, she stumbled home to her small house on the edge of town.

Might as well feed the ghosts one last time, she thought. And then, One last time? Maybe not... And in that thought there was a meager ray of hope.

She began cooking - a normal Lankaln meal for herself, and four large human meals for the ghosts.

The ghosts arrived while she was cooking. They came in the back door, like always. Four ghosts of humans - Andrea, John, Tom, and Rob, as they called themselves.

They chatted easily, laughed, and just lounged around until the food was served. Then everyone began to eat.

During the meal, she said, "This will be the last time I am able to give you food."

The ghosts stopped eating and stared at her. Finally Tom asked, "Is something wrong?"

She blinked rapidly, the Lankaln equivalent of a sigh. After a pause, she said, "The Big Boss has chosen that I become a courtesan."

There was a very heavy silence. Then Andrea asked, "Do you want to?"

She just stared at her plate. After a pause, Andrea repeated the question.

"No," she said, admitting it as much to herself as to them. "No, I do not. They will come for me in the morning. And I do not want to go."

The ghosts weren't eating any more. They leaned forward, engaged in the conversation.

Andrea said, "Then you need to make a decision. What do you want to happen? Do you want us to scare those who come in the morning? Do you want us to beat them? Cripple them? Kill them? Kill the Big Boss and everyone who works for him?"

She was startled. "I choose?"

"You choose."

She thought. "Do you know what a courtesan is?"

"We know."

"I want you to kill the Big Boss and everyone who works for him. And I want you to free everyone that he is holding."

The ghosts looked at each other, then at her. "Okay."

"You can do that?"

"Absolutely. Where is his base? His headquarters?"

"I do not know."

"All right, what time will they come for you?"

"At dawn, or just after."

"All right," Andrea said, "we will let them take you. We will follow where they go. We will come very quickly and free you. That's the best we can do."

"Very well," she mumbled, and blinked rapidly again.

-----

Three of them came for her just after dawn. She went with them. She saw no sign of the ghosts. She abandoned what faint hope she had. merely blinking rapidly as the door closed behind her in the Big Boss's lair.

Then the door exploded.

Four human figures surged into the room. They were heavily armed, and they began using their weapons almost immediately. There was an explosion of gunfire. Very effective gunfire - every one of the Big Boss's people in the room was dead within three seconds.

The ghosts did not speak. They made a gesture for her to stay there. They attached something to a door further into the Big Boss's domain, stepped aside a couple of steps, waited for the explosion, then charged through the opening.

She waited, trying to recover from the shock of their coming and their killing.

A very few minutes later, the ghosts returned with seven rescued Lankaln females.

One of the ghosts looked at her and nodded. She knew what the nod meant. The Big Boss was dead, and so was everyone who worked for him. They had done what she asked.

She invited everyone, rescued Lankaln and human ghost alike, to her place for lunch.

After everyone left, when she was cleaning up, she saw a single red spot on her table.

Human blood.

She remembered that John had received a small wound on the back of his hand.

But ghosts cannot be wounded. Ghosts do not bleed.

They are not ghosts.

She mentally shook herself. Of course they are not ghosts. They ate food. You could hear the weight of their steps.

She had assumed they were ghosts because no humans were supposed to remain on Lankaln. Apparently some had remained anyway. At least four.

And they do not want to be known. They let me see them, but they were in hiding from the Lankaln in general.

Well, then...

She very carefully cleaned the red spot on the table, until no trace of it remained.

The Orion Arm was fragmented. Different species expanded out from their homeworlds at various rates, and eventually encountered each other. Some of those encounters were peaceful, some even stayed peaceful, and some... were not and did not. Things were approximately stable in the large picture (though not necessarily for any individual species).

Then the Acridors attacked. They looked like four-foot-long grasshoppers, except without the wings. They came from the Perseus Arm, or at least from that direction. (The space between galactic arms was not a true void, so it was unclear whether they had come that far.)

The Acridors were good at understanding technology, but less good at creating it. They had managed to conquer some people somewhere who made starships for them, and used those ships to go raiding. If a raid went well, they raided again, or even attempted conquest. Because they reproduced quickly and reached maturity quickly, if they gained a foothold on a planet, it was real trouble.

The inter-species fighting in the Orion Arm got put on the back burner by this new threat. There was a hasty conference called of all space-faring species to discuss the new problem.

At the meeting, the human representative hesitantly said, "We have some things that could clear an infested planet."

There was an immediate, enthusiastic response. "Let's try it!"

"That's... complicated..."

The Calano representative guessed what the problem was. "Does it have something to do with your... Ge-Neeh-Vah... Convention?"

"Yes, exactly," the human said, glad that someone was at least familiar with the concept. "We have chemicals that seem likely to kill them. We could kill all of them in a wide area. But it would mean ignoring our Geneva Convention."

"So ignore your Convention!" the Trag representative snapped.

"If we did that, all the Trag on Rexalar would be dead. The humans would own the whole planet, instead of uncomfortably sharing it with you. So, are you sure that you want us to start ignoring the Convention?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, and a long one. Finally, the Maranao spoke. "Could you... declare this an extraordinary emergency or something... and suspend the Convention just for this problem, but keep it the rest of the time?"

The human sighed. "We could, in theory. But that makes it easier, when the next war comes, to say that is also an extraordinary emergency. You must be careful. What you have us do here likely will be done to you. That is why we bind ourselves with these rules - because we do not want such things to be done to us."

"Very well," the Calano said, in a defeated tone. "What else can we do?"

The human asked, "How about just glassing their part of the planet?"

Everyone stared at him. "You can do that, but you can't use poison?"

"Given that they're either all combatants or, due to their quick maturation, they're going to be combatants in the near future, yes, we can do that. That is, we can try to do that. A whole planet is a large area; we're going to have to increase our manufacturing of certain... items that I will not name."

The Traq glared at the human in exasperation. "Then why not use chemicals? They're dead either way."

The human took a moment to reply. "They're dead either way," he finally said, "but some ways of dying are more horrible than others. We have seen what that kind of death is like; we won't do it again. Not even to them."

A human platoon was part of a rapid reaction force, hastily assembled to meet the Chi'i Ascendency's invasion of Ragaln.

The main force was mostly Chindars, who were the predominant species in the Xorxor Group. The humans were not yet allies with the Xorxor group, but were considering at least a loose alliance. So when the Chi'i attack happened, the humans sent what they had nearby, which wasn't much.

The human platoon was led by Lieutenant Rawls. They had been assigned a Chindar liaison to help them work better with the larger force.

As they moved toward the action, LT Rawls began to be concerned. He asked the liaison, "Why are all these troops moving away from the action? Has the order to retreat been given? And if so, how have we not received it?"

"No, no such order has been given," the liaison said, "but their commanding officer has been killed."

Rawls pondered that for a moment. "So?"

"So, among us, when the commanding officer has been killed, the troops are upset by the loss of their leader. They retire to the rear to compose themselves and reorganize under their new leader."

"Yeah?" Rawls said. "Well, we ain't like that." That was all he said then.

An hour later, the liaison approached LT Rawls, and said, "The commanding officer of our battalion has been killed. We are retiring."

This time Rawls said a bit more. "What killed the commander?"

"A sniper, I believe. But it does not matter. We are retiring. Come, humans."

"No, we ain't like that. Boys, let's go find us a sniper." And the humans continued forward.

The liaison now had a dilemma - he was supposed to stay with the humans, but his commander was dead, so he was supposed to retire and re-form under new leadership. He hesitated, but in the end, he hurried to re-join the humans.

They made contact with the sniper half an hour later, in the form of a plasma bolt that killed Lieutenant Rawls.

The liaison said, "Now your commander is dead. Now it is time for you to retire."

Sergeant Gustaffson was now in command. He chose to reply with Lieutenant Rawls' words. "No, we ain't like that." Then, to his men: "Anybody see where it came from?"

"That knoll at two o'clock."

"Let's go get him. Don't run in a straight line."

They headed for the knoll at a run, though not quite a full sprint. (At a distance of about 150 meters, it was a bit far for that.)

The sniper saw them. The sniper was not impressed by 30 humans with kinetic weapons. It stood up in full view, to let them see it.

"A Chi'i Battle Master in full armor!" the liaison screamed. "Humans! Now it is definitely time to run away!"

The sergeant shouted a command - but not a command to retreat. "Armor piercing!"

The sniper just stood there and let them shoot. It knew the quality of its armor.

It quickly learned what "armor piercing" meant. It raised its weapon to shoot back, but discovered that armor piercing rounds could destroy plasma rifles too.

Then it tried to run. But it was already damaged, and taking more damage. It stumbled, then fell.

"Let's finish him off, boys!"

The humans reached the top of the knoll, and made sure that the sniper was dead.

The liaison reached the top of the knoll. He stared at the dead Chi'i Battle Master. Then he stared at the humans. Finally he asked, "Why? There were several times that you should have turned away. Why did you not?"

"What we said. We ain't like that. That's just not who we are."

"'If you give me six lines written by the hand of the most honest of men, I will find something in them which will hang him.' Are you familiar with those words, Mr. Lee?"

"Yes," Mr. Lee said uncomfortably.

"You, Mr. Lee, are not the most honest of men. And I will find something which will hang you. And then I will hang you. Literally."

Mr. Lee stared at the Jarcovax prosecutor. "Is there any particular reason for this... this determination of yours to have me executed?"

The prosecutor polished his fangs; it was the Jarcovax equivalent of a gloating smile. "You are a human. All humans should be executed. Unfortunately, our king sanctions your existence here, so I have to find ways to execute each one of you individually."

"And what if you can't?"

The prosecutor polished his fangs again. "Don't worry, Mr. Lee. I'll make sure that the evidence is there."

"Meaning that you will manufacture it if it is not."

The prosecutor did not deny it. "Oh, I am sure that you all are guilty of something. I would merely be making the evidence agree with the reality."

-----

The prosecutor was correct. Mr. Lee wasn't the most honest of men. Not the most moral or ethical, either. He was, in a word, a gangster. But in this instance, Mr. Lee wasn't primarily concerned with making dishonest money.

The prosecutor wanted to execute every human on the planet, even if it meant faking evidence in order to be able to get a conviction worthy of execution. That was a bit bigger deal than whether Mr. Lee made a few dishonest credits, or even whether Mr. Lee survived.

Clearly, the prosecutor had to be removed. The question was how. Legally, or lethally?

Mr. Lee wasn't just a gangster; he was a smart gangster. As such, murder wasn't his first option. It tended to attract unwelcome attention.

But could he get the prosecutor to incriminate himself, in a way that people would listen to, faster than the prosecutor could gather evidence on Mr Lee - evidence that undoubtedly existed, if the prosecutor looked in the right places? Mr. Lee decided that it was worth a try... briefly. If he couldn't quickly get the prosecutor to make a mistake that would lead to removal from office, then a more kinetic solution would be needed.

Accordingly, the next day he secreted a recording device in his pocket, and made a visit to the prosecutor's office.

The prosecutor did not suspect that Mr. Lee carried a listening device. Unfortunately, the prosecutor was worried about saying too much where he could be overheard by people in his own department. He therefore did not say anything useful, even though Mr. Lee tried several times to bait him.

So Mr. Lee went home. He removed the listening device. Then he left again. He spent the next several hours clearing his tail, and then he went to see Chornok.

Chornok was also a gangster, of a different gang and a different species. They were not friends, but they were not exactly enemies either. They were willing to cooperate when it benefited them both.

Mr. Lee explained the situation. "This prosecutor is determined to find or fake enough evidence to execute every single human on the planet. That is a large enough issue that the humans here may notify the Orion Alliance of what is happening. We are outside their space, and in doing so we have deliberately placed ourselves outside their protection. And, for some of us, also deliberately outside their jurisdiction. But they may decide that this kind of thing calls for a response. And if they do..."

Chornok stared into the distance. His tail tapped rhythmically against the table leg as he thought. He knew well what kind of "response" the humans were capable of. "That could be quite destructive. It won't be good for business," he said at last. He looked at Mr. Lee. "You want him taken out?"

"I think so, yes. I tried to talk to him wired, but I couldn't get him to say enough to get him removed."

"All right," Chornok said. "A prosecutor willing to do that to the humans could decide to do it to us. Better for everyone if he's gone." He blinked rapidly, his kind's equivalent of a laugh. "Funny that we want a prosecutor who is more honest."

Mr. Lee laughed. "Now that you mention it, yes, that is funny."

The next day, the prosecutor died in an accident on his way home after work.

First Previous

They were approaching a space station. A space station in Darana space, where they hoped to grab a hundred Darana and coerce them into working for Chixchix and his gang.

It's time to try, Stephen decided. Very quietly, he nudged Rouko and motioned toward a little-used corridor. Rouko followed him.

"What do you think about this whole plan?" Stephen asked.

"It seems... likely to work."

"Yes, it does. And what happens then?"

"Then Chixchix rules his planet," Rouko said.

"Yes. And then where are we?"

"His helpers and advisors."

"Are we? Or are we something that he no longer needs, because he has an entire planet's military? Are we an embarrassment that he wants to get rid of?"

Rouko froze. He remained in intense thought for the better part of a minute. Finally, he said, "Well, if we are going to not follow him on his plan, this would seem to be the time."

"It seems that way to me, too."

No more was said. But after they docked at the space station, as they were about to leave the ship, Rouko abruptly shot Chixchix. He shot him several times, to make sure he was dead.

The rest of the gang looked at Rouko in confusion. Rouko explained why he had done so - because at the end of the plan, the risk was that Chixchix would not reward them, but instead would discard them, perhaps lethally. The gang accepted this - they trusted and followed Rouko.

Then Rouko said, "Let's go find a bar." The gang happily followed Rouko.

At the bar, after drinks had been served, Rouko pulled Stephen aside. "You were Chixchix's human advisor," he said.

"Yes."

"Will you be my advisor?"

"I will give you one piece of very good advice: Do not take an unwilling advisor."

It took Rouko a moment to get it. Then he said, "Chixchix."

"Yes."

"I see. Well... your advice to me has been good. So thank you for it."

Stephen remained in the bar after the gang left, thinking a bit. He did not want to be an advisor for a gang, but he had kind of liked Rouko. And Rouko had stopped Chixchix, and then let Stephen go free.

Stephen raised his glass to an empty chair. "Good luck, Rouko. And thanks," he said, and drank.

Previous

Stephen dedicated a lot of time to observation.

Of the gang, a Ch'ral named Rouko was Chixchix's lieutenant. The gang followed Rouko's orders. They followed him. But he followed Chixchix, and so the gang did what Chixchix wanted.

Could Rouko be turned against Chixchix, or even just away from him?

Or, Stephen wondered, could he be killed? And if so, what would happen after? Would the gang still follow Chixchix? Not that Stephen was the kind of human who went around killing people - though to stop a war he might decide that he had to try. But maybe Chixchix could be made to doubt his trusted lieutenant. Stephen was sure that something like that should be in the Evil Overlord List: Trust your trusted lieutenant... but not completely.

But if Chixchix wouldn't listen to Stephen, then maybe Rouko would. Quietly and slowly, Stephen began to cultivate a relationship with Rouko.

Stephen also spent some time mentally reviewing Chixchix's plan. Once he conquered his homeworld, he would have all of that world's military at his disposal. He would no longer need the Alchars (however many of them survived). What would happen to them? Would they be sent back home with honors and payment? Would they be just abandoned? Or would they be executed?

And the same question applied to the Gragins. And the Daranas. And then, Stephen realized, it applied to the existing gang.

It applied to Rouko.

Would Rouko continue to be Chixchix's trusted lieutenant? Or would he be an offworlder, an embarrassment, a liability? How long would Rouko live if this plan worked?

And then Stephen realized with a shudder that it also applied to himself. Did Chixchix's world do human advisors? Or would Stephen be disposed of once Chixchix conquered his homeworld?

Stephen thought that this should be added to the Evil Overlord List, too: If you're intending to dispose of your minions, do not ever let them suspect that. Stephen suspected it.

Did Rouko? Stephen intended to help him suspect it.

But if that route failed, Stephen realized that he had no downside to trying to kill Chixchix himself. If he tried, though, he would need to succeed the first time. There would be no second chance if he failed.

Stephen sat on his bunk in his assigned quarters, thinking.

He had just been sitting around a bar on a space station, having a beer. He got kidnapped by some mixed-species gang of thugs. Apparently he was now the "human advisor" to the gang's boss.

Well, human advisors were a thing. In the parts of the galaxy where humans were known but not common, human advisors were considered a sign of a competent organization. Stephen wasn't sure he wanted a gang of thugs to become more competent, though.

The boss was some overgrown grasshopper-like thing named Chixchix that Stephen instantly disliked - partly because he didn't like thugs, partly because he didn't like being kidnapped, partly because he wasn't that fond of giant grasshoppers, and partly because Chixchix was a jerk. He'd made that very clear in the short amount of time that Stephen had "worked" for him.

Stephen started thinking about the Evil Overlord List. This was an ancient text that he had stumbled upon once. It was a list of all the mistakes that stereotypical evil overlords make, phrased as actions that the evil overlord would take to avoid making them. Chixchix was definitely giving off evil overlord vibes; maybe he would make typical evil overlord mistakes. Stephen found himself wishing that he had read the list more recently.

Could Stephen help him make those mistakes? The thought brought a smile to Stephen's face.

Step 1, Stephen decided, was that he needed to find out what the evil plan was. And since he was the advisor, he needed to know, in order to be able to advise better.

So the next day, Stephen said to Chixchix, "Sir, I could advise you better if I understood what your plan was."

Chixchix said, "You're not here to advise me, human. I don't need advice. I know what I'm doing. You're here because having a human advisor makes me look better to those I need to follow me. You are a symbol, and only that."

Stephen nearly despaired. But then Chixchix spent the next ten minutes monologging about his perfect plan, and at the end of it Stephen understood it pretty well.

That night, sitting on his bunk, he thought some more. Chixchix was making evil overlord mistakes - ignoring advice, and monologging, and treating his underlings like dirt. That was promising.

The plan itself was almost like a multilevel marketing scheme, but with guns. Chixchix's gang was going to go to Darana space and coerce a hundred Daranas into working for Chixchix. Then they were going to use the Daranas as muscle to pressure a thousand Gragins to work for them. They were going to use the Gragins as a threat to get a million Alchars to fight for them. They were going to use the Alchars as cannon fodder to conquer Chixchix's home planet. His mother had stolen some royal jelly and fed it to him when he was young, he said, so he was biologically qualified to rule.

The worst part about the plan was that it might possibly work. The Daranas were tough physically, but not that hard to pressure or intimidate. The Gragins were decent fighters, but deathly afraid of the Daranas. And the Alchars were compliant enough that they might do their part of the plan as envisioned.

How do I stop this? Stephen wondered, How do I throw a wrench in this insanity?

Well, it was a complicated, multi-step plan, so there were multiple points at which it could be broken. Each layer of control - Chixchix over his gang, the gang over the Daranas, the Daranas over the Gragins, and the Gragins over the Alchars - was a seam where the plan could rip apart.

Could be made to rip apart? Maybe.

But Chixchix was definitely making evil overlord mistakes. Stephen had hope. He just wished he remembered the list better.

The Cormonos were a typical feudal society. They had a caste of elite warriors, from whom the political leadership also came (often by conquest), and the rest were peasants, mostly involved in agriculture.

Then someone sold them a starship in exchange for a bunch of gold. So the king who bought it loaded it up with a thousand of his elite warriors, headed by his most loyal vassal, Aramak, and (with trust in feudal tradition, but not wisdom) sent them off to find new worlds to become part of the king's domain.

The starship eventually found a planet they called Cormonana (little Cormona), with a weak pre-industrial civilization. The Cormonos conquered it, setting themselves up as rulers (with Aramak as king). Aramak (with trust in feudal tradition, but not wisdom) left two hundred warriors behind, headed by a vassal loyal to himself, and headed off to find more worlds to conquer.

Eventually they found another populated world, which appeared to be mostly agricultural.

Unfortunately, it was New Freehold, a human colony.

The problem with a feudal society buying a starship is that they become a feudal society with a starship. They don't become an industrial society or a high-tech society. In particular, they don't have industrial or high-tech weapons - just feudal ones.

After they landed, Aramak sent a group of 50 elite warriors to the nearest village of about 200 people. That was more than enough for intimidating and conquering 200 peasants, but Aramak wanted overwhelming force for the first encounter.

Unfortunately for the Cormonos, these weren't peasants. They were farmers, but that's not the same thing.

The village quickly formed a scratch force of 20 people to meet the visitors. It was a first-contact situation, and the humans came as prepared as they could - with a translator, and biohazard detection kits, and a video link so that others could see what happened, and weapons.

The Cormonos turned out to have lots of fours: four eyes, four legs, four arms. (Still only one head.) They looked like centaurs, except for the four-eyes-and-four-arms part. And most of them had four swords in their four hands on the end of their four arms.

The humans weren't particularly scared. Swords? We brought rifles. Good luck, dudes.

They pulled up a safe distance away, and sent Jamal Cooper, alone and unarmed, with the translator, to make contact. The Cormonos sent one warrior, without swords, to meet Jamal.

The translator had Cormonos in it. (Maybe courtesy of whoever sold them the ship.)

The Cormono spokesman demanded that the planet accept Aramak as their king, and their position as his serfs. Jamal said no.

The Cormono spokesman said that they would kill as many humans as it took for the humans to agree. Jamal said that the humans would kill as many Cormonos as it took for them to leave, even if that turned out to be all of them.

The Cormono spokesman then made a gesture to the Cormonos behind him. They charged. In response, the humans opened fire.

The Cormonos were a lot faster than humans on foot. Fortunately, the humans were not on foot. They shot a couple of times, then retreated on their four wheelers, then shot again. Soon nothing was chasing them.

Then they realized that Jamal was missing. The hastily went back, and found him dodging the Cormono spokesman. They shot the spokesman. When Jamal recovered his breath, he did not have kind words for them leaving him. But it turned out that their first shots had been for the center of the Cormono charge, which created a hole, so that the charge itself missed Jamal completely, and left him one-on-one, with the spokesman, both unarmed.

No word reached Aramak. After a while, he sent scouts. Most didn't return. One did, and told of smaller beings who rode on really loud fast things, and who had something like arrows but better.

Aramak didn't hesitate. He armed his warriors with bows, and sent them all out to battle the humans.

The humans had not been idle. They had called for reinforcements, which were starting to arrive. Starting to. They had about 40 when Aramak released 750 warriors against them.

Several humans died before they realized: Oh, yeah, bows are longer range than swords, we need to stay further away from those things.

Staying further away slowed down the rate of damage the humans did - they were farmers, not professional shooters. The humans still lost a few people (when their engine died, or when they rolled, or when they were stupid about distance). Still, Cormonos dropped steadily, and the human numbers kept climbing as more and more reinforcements came in.

Eventually Aramak started having doubts. His warriors couldn't catch the humans, could not even get within arrow range. And the warriors were getting tired - they had charged too many times. Finally he decided to call off the attack and return to the ship.

This presented a question to the humans: Were they going to let these wanna-be rulers just run away, maybe to come back some other time? Well, when you put it that way...

The humans pursued. The Cormonos mostly marched, and ran when they had the strength. About 400 reached the ship, with a number of them wounded.

Once the Cormonos were in the ship, the humans moved away. Bullets were not going to go through starship walls, and starship engines were not something you wanted to be near when they fired.

Aramak burned for vengeance. But he knew he didn't have enough to carry it out. He didn't even have enough left that it was safe to try to conquer anywhere else. Reluctantly, he decided to go back to Cormonana.

Once there, he found that his trusted vassal was now calling himself king. Of course, that meant war. After the war, Aramak was king, but he only had 250 elite warriors left, which was not enough to try to conquer anywhere.

But that was all right. He had learned that it was not safe to go off and leave a vassal in charge, so he was going to stay and be king. The starship was never used again.

The humans decide that, even though they were just a small farming world, they needed to start thinking about orbital defenses...

The Craboids (not their own term for themselves) looked like two-foot-tall, six-foot-long land crabs. They had a very simple classification scheme for living things. There were the smart predators (themselves) and the dumb predators (unthinking animals, dangerous, but not intelligent). Then there were the prey that would fight, and the prey that would give up. That was it.

Then they moved into space, partly because they could, and partly because they were hungry and looking for more food. They found that space was mostly empty, most planets devoid of life, but they did find a couple of planets with life that they could use for food.

Then they found a few robot probes wandering around. They knew someone had sent them, but they didn't know who, or from where. But it gave them a new category: robot slaves.

And then the met the humans.

Both sides had given some thought to how to handle a first contact. They established communication about mathematics, then physics, and from there broader and broader. They were able to define a common environment in which they could exist, and build a meeting place.

When they met, the humans sent three people. The Craboids sent five. When the Craboids saw the humans in person, their reaction was instantaneous.

"No armor at all? They're prey!"

James Anderson, the human ambassador, was in the lead. He died very quickly.

Behind Ambassador Anderson, though, were two other humans. They were military rather than diplomats. One was a bodyguard; the other was a high-level military liaison who, in younger days, had seen combat. Both were armed. Both responded swiftly.

Anti-personnel rounds were not enough to punch through the Craboids' natural armor, but they hit with enough force to allow the two surviving humans to retreat. The five Craboids, alive but with cracked and damaged shells and claws, grabbed the dead human ambassador and bore his body back to their ship - for food, not just a trophy.

But it never actually was food. They closed the airlock. They made it twenty feet further into their ship, and then the airlock exploded into several pieces. Through the hole pored human marines in power armor.

The Craboids could survive vacuum, at least for a short time. They could even survive explosive decompression if their shells were intact. They couldn't survive armor-piercing rounds from marines in power armor, though.

A human honor guard recovered the body of Ambassador Anderson. The rest of the marines charged through the Craboid ship, blowing through every obstacle and killing everything they found, until they reached the bridge. Then they stopped and communicated. They made several points very clear:

- Humans were not prey.

- Craboids looked like they would be delicious in butter sauce.

- Eating sapients, even if they are prey species, would result in the Craboids becoming extinct.

The Craboids limped home in their understaffed, damaged ship. They now had a new category to consider, and to be wary of: predators that protect prey.

"They're coming."

"How long?"

"Maybe two minutes."

"Right," Yakov said. "So, no need to worry for a minute forty or so." He took a long, peaceful drag on his cigarette.

Karl understood Yakov's point. There was nothing they could do yet. So relax and rest, even if only for a minute and a half. Then action.

"How many?" Yakov asked, after another puff.

"Looked like a full wave."

"Air support will be here a minute too late."

Karl looked at Yakov. "We can't hold a full wave for a minute."

"No."

Karl had tried to talk Yakov out of smoking. "Those things will kill you," he said. Yakov had smiled. "May I live long enough that these kill me," he had said. Karl had no response. That had been three weeks ago.

They just sat there, peacefully resting, for a minute. Then for another 30 seconds. Then they got up, picked up their rifles, and cautiously looked over the edge of their pit. They could see the incoming wave, not yet in range. And then the radio came to life.

"Victor 23 Alpha, this is Angel 17. Heads down, now now now!"

They got down, wondering why.

BOOOOOM.

Even more cautiously than before, they looked over the edge of their pit. There were only three hostiles approaching. Two seconds with their rifles solved that.

Yakov keyed the radio. "Angel 17, thanks. We did not expect you for another minute and a half."

"Well, mate, you got lucky. They had anti-air, so I had to fire from further away with standoff ordnance, so I didn't have to go all the way there before I shot."

"We take it. In fact, I want to give you big kiss."

"Lucky for me, mate, I'm a thousand meters above you."

Karl carefully went up to their observation point. He looked for a long time. When he came down, he looked relaxed, carefree. "There's nothing more out there. That wave was the last they had."

"And we own orbit. No more comes."

Yakov lit another cigarette. He took a deep pull on it. He smiled. He exhaled, still smiling. Then he dropped the cigarette and stepped on it with his boot. "Those things will kill me. I need to stop."

Karl smiled.

-----

Yakov Rokonov died of old age at 104, on Earth.

"Seriously?" Sarah asked incredulously, "you found a book?"

"A book. A real, physical book, printed with physical ink on physical paper made out of dead trees."

"Where do you find this stuff?"

With dignity, Alan answered, "I don't find this stuff. But I know a guy."

"Of course you do," Sarah muttered. But curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "So what does it say?"

"First, it says we need to find a way to kill robots, without getting killed ourselves in the process of finding out."

"Easy. We already know that. Plasma cannon for three seconds, or several armor-piercing rounds. What's next?"

"Second, find and destroy their factory or factories."

"That's not so easy."

Smugly, Alan said, "It said simple. It didn't say easy."

"I... see. Well, they don't have a factory in-system. As best as we can tell, their factory is somewhere in the Rigel system. Or factories. And they have a shipyard there as well, or more than one. So, that's not going to be easy. What's step three?"

"Kill whoever designed them and built the factory, before they design an improved version, and before they build another factory."

Sarah smiled. "Already done - at least, we think so. The robots did it themselves."

"So all we need to do is step two. Really simple, even if it's not easy. So, what do we have that we could use for that?"

Sarah, Admiral Whittaker, naval secretary for the Orion Alliance, said, "We have some really small, really fast unmanned recon ships. We can send them into Rigel and surrounding systems and see what's going on."

"Inexpensive?"

"In terms of hulls and such, yes. Their sensor and comm packages? Expensive."

"If the robots find the recon ships - which they probably will - what will they do?"

"Destroy them, of course. But I don't know that they will do much more than that. They don't seem to have much tactical or strategic flexibility."

Alan, Defense Secretary for the Orion Alliance, took a deep breath. "All right. Send more than one to Rigel. Pick the systems around it that could also have factories. Let's see what they're doing, even if it tips our hand that we're coming. Let's find their factories, and see what it will take to kill them."