Let Them Eat

The distant rumble of the quantum engines was almost soothing, a soft hum not unlike the white noise generator that sat on Dayn’s bedside table at home. He smirked as he thought about how far away home was. More than thirty-eight light years. A navigation update on his personal terminal indicated that they would be arriving at their destination very soon.

It had been a long trip to be sure, and not one taken lightly. His battle group, composed of five heavy carriers and their complement of star fighters, three cruisers for each carrier, and a few support ships and hangers on. And they were the first, the vanguard. More would be coming, of that Dayn was certain.

His people did not launch their fleets lightly. War was not something they were in the practice of, not for centuries. History teaches that early in any civilisation’s development conflict is common. Sentient species were prone to tribalism, and then nationalism, until eventually they were advanced enough to come together as one culture, one world. They always assumed other species, should they ever find them, would be the same.

As they advanced they also began exploring. Probes were the first things they sent out into the void of space, trying to understand their solar system. Then they sent ships, first to mine, then settle, their system. And then, years after unification and peace, they sent ships further, with the invention of the quantum drive, explorers and emissaries, believing, knowing, that there must be more civilizations out there amidst the stars. Stars without number.

Decades passed. Then centuries, and as they began to lose hope, began to believe that perhaps some of their intellectuals were right, and as unimaginable it might be, perhaps they were alone in the universe.

And then, less than a year ago, it happened. First contact.

“Dayn, you awake,” his comm unit chirped. He flicked the visual display open to see Jern, one of his squad mates. She looked tired, her eyes sunken and maybe a bit red from crying.

“I am now Jern,” Dayn smiled, “something bothering you?”

She rubbed her eyes as she yawned, “No, just finding it hard to rest. I don’t know if I’m ready for what’s coming.”

He smiled, shaking his head slightly “I hear you. I don’t know if any of us are.” And it was true. There were those in their leadership that argued against this undertaking. That despite their technology, their lack of experience in the arena of war would be their downfall. There were others that cautioned that we were moving to conflict too fast, a throwback to our earlier history when colonizers encountered indiginous cultures and, without exception, absorbed, enslaved, or even worse, destroyed them.

Dayn wasn’t sure they were doing the right thing either, but as a frontline soldier, drafted into battlegroup by lottery, no one was listening to his opinion. He was scared, as certainly as Jern and anyone else in the fleet likely were, but the vote had been cast, and while not unanimous, enough of the world had called to attack the aggressors. Ever since the final transmission of the exploratory group and the gruesome death of the emissary, his people had decided. Any society that could murder peaceful explorers after welcoming them with such open arms, such an awful display of duplicity, could not be allowed.

“We decided, as one world, that this would be our response,” Dayn said flatly, “Ready or not, we need to be resigned. This is our duty now.”

Jern’s eyes hardened slightly, and with a curt nod, she almost whispered “you’re right. This is our path. Well, I’m going to try to get some sleep.” She cut the connection before he could reply. Dayn thought that he might have been a bit harsh with her, but there wasn’t anything he or she could do at this point. Days from arrival, and then war. This is what they had to prepare for.

He felt for Jern though. Yes the lottery for service had been completely random and had included everyone at every strata of society. Investors and entrepreneurs were going to war alongside artists and teachers, and everyone in between. Jern had said that she was a child care expert, a pinnacle of compassion and nurturing. Hard to imagine her on a battlefield. Dayn was slightly more prepared as a peace officer. He was also an avid hunter and survivalist in his off time, and so when he had received his basic training programming it had not taken him long to adjust. His experience is also likely why he had been chosen as his group's leader.

The government had diverted much of their power and infrastructure to building ships and armor and weapons for the vanguard group. When they left the work continued and new lotteries were planned for the battle groups to follow. Due to relativistic speeds the future groups shouldn’t be that far behind them.

Laying back in his bunk, Dayn pulled up the last transmission. Watching it gave him strength. Purpose. It began positively enough. Our emissary received a gift, a brown wedge of fluffy, organic material with a creamy surface of darker hue. The alien, also holding a similar wedge, used a metal implement to slice a piece off of the wedge and put in what scientists assumed was their mouth, it’s blue eyes shining, it’s pinkish skin ruddy under a yellow sun. The emissary did the same, and quickly, things went bad. The alien appeared to be smiling, it’s eyes wide and it’s mouth open in what to Dayn’s people was a mirthful expression, as it stepped back, even as the emissary dropped the plate that the wedge was on, her hands hugging her torso in pain and her face pulling into a rictus grin of pain. Her pale blue skin turned even paler as she gasped for breath.

Dayn sighed, his own reddened eyes growing hard as he thought about how the emissary was poisoned. But now was not the time for grief. In a few days they would be landing, and these pink bipeds would pay dearly for blatantly feeding their emissary the fluffy brown wedge of death.