19: Negotiating a Lasting Peace

VII: Burying the Hatchet

My sister has the heart of an artist with a hatchet and an eye patch.
And I, we both now know,
have a heart that is undeniably, irreparably different.

Jackson Pearce

They are beautiful monsters...
and when they live in a network of peace and hope,
when they trust the world and their deepest hungers are fulfilled,
then within that system, that delicate web, there is joy.
That is what we live for, to bind the monsters together,
to murder their fear and give birth to their beauty.

Orson Scott Card
“All right, folks, be prepared,” Al warned as the Peaceful Avenger neared their assigned dock on the Tissk spaceport. “There’s no telling the reception we’ll face. We’ve effectively wiped out the culture’s entire history, future, identity and ethnic pride. I doubt they’re pleased their terrorizing spree ended so humiliatingly, so prepare for someone to stab us in the back. It’s certain everyone wants to.”

Solomon sang quietly of nervous excitement, rising in pitch like a gradually building wave, not yet cresting. “Security, you’re authorized to use deadly force if necessary. If anyone gets near enough to, say, spray aerosol into the ship, open fire!”

“Don’t worry,” Xi assured him. “The One added a metal detector to my medical device. It will warn us if anyone nearby has a weapon and identify it long before they have the opportunity to use it.”

“Problem no,” Chich’k echoed. “Much like nut and tree climb, I prefer fight hand-hand, crawling thru technology underbelly.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Al acknowledged. “By the way, thanks for the help during the cleanup, rescuing so many with Xi. If you weren’t risking your lives while everyone was still shooting, more would have died.”

“She do work. I only cut ship open, slap warrior. She save.”

“Still,” she corrected. “If you didn’t drag me into the middle of the fray, most wouldn’t have survived. The Tissk care little for anyone but themselves and only worry about what they can acquire. I hope a few recognize what we risked to rescue them. But like Al, I suspect most would rather slit our throats.”

“To be honest, it’s mostly the military leaders,” Al suggested. “The fighter pilots who ceased fighting at our urging demonstrate those attitudes don’t extend to the average Tissk, who only want to survive. Their commanders, though, are similar to the Tandorian High Command.”

“Can you detect any risks,” Myi pressed, “are you nervous about something, or just planning another surprise?”

Al shrugged. “I still have trouble keying into the Tissk intentions, so I’m as clueless as the rest of you. But ... I’m not planning on giving anyone the opportunity.”

The Peaceful Avenger neared their assigned berth, though their automated docking facilities weren’t compatible. Although vastly more primitive than any Tandorian or Zssizliq facility, it was surprisingly efficient, clearly frequently used. Because of the specialized mechanisms, the external engineers were waiting to observe how it operated and make-on-the-fly adjustments. Solomon’s tune changed slightly, adding in chaotic undertones.

Though their hull wasn’t steel, the magnetic elements in their composite construction worked with the Tissk locks. The Lezmonom trainees adjusted the station’s automated coupling to fit the Zssizliq docking mechanism, which was far more adaptable. With the seal secure, the passageway filled with Tandorian air. The Tissk’s was fairly noxious with some atrocious smells. The door opened and the landing party entered the facility, their aids automatically desensitizing their sensory glands.

Inside, numerous Tissk lined the hallway. None carried any apparent weapons, as each saluted by slapping their arms over their chests and glancing down as the victors approached. The Peaceful Avenger‘s security moved ahead, covering the stationary crowd as Al and the other negotiators continued past. Solomon sang the theme to Jaws, which Al had been teaching him. While impressive enough with a full symphony, it sounded utterly different with the vocal gyrations of a creature projecting the emotions of those near it.

Al’s group was large, containing not just Human, Tandorian and Lezmonom personnel, but also Irrq and Plssam, which the Tissk noted.

There didn’t appear to be any official greeting party. Al and the others weren’t sure what role those stationed along the walls served. Were they meant to signal the Tissks’ subservience, to intimidate them, or show they accepted Al’s command over their fates? Their expressions didn’t reveal much.

Al’s team walked in a stately procession, not wanting to appear overly aggressive. Yet they studied those they passed warily, unsure what to expect. Solomon added an undertone, suggesting a lonely swimmer struggling against the elements. The assembled Tissk stiffened, leaning back, surprised by the unusual creature. Chich’k scampered along the ceiling as usual, traveling faster than even their security detail.

They surreptitiously glanced up from their subservient postures to stare at the odd mix of Al’s crew. Their prisoners followed, unconstrained, accompanied by more security personnel augmented by regular crewmen, required since there were so many POWs.

The countenance of those observing changed as the captured passed. They sneered initially, but as their scope became apparent, their expressions softened. Whether it signaled acceptance, recognition or mere boredom, Al’s crew wasn’t sure. The rescued Tissk also kept their own eyes downcast, occasionally glancing up to see how their free counterparts regarded them. However, the harshest response was for the captured Captains and starship officials, whose wrists and ankles were cuffed. Those watching jeered, a few spitting at them, though Al’s security put a halt to the behavior.

After all this time, the Tissk remained an enigma Al’s people couldn’t parse. Although they related to Gurrstlk, they doubted those he now ruled accepted him with anything other than outright resentment. Kclekt’s attitude seemed more prevalent, reflecting a resigned acceptance of their superior weapons and the inevitability of their eventual downfall. Thus neither seemed an actual indication of what to expect from the masses Al was to sit in judgment of.

Entering another corridor, uniformed security waved them forward, awaiting them. They motioned the prisoners and their guards to another door, while the negotiators approached cautiously. They neared a small docking bay, where two Tissk officials stood by a waiting craft. Solomon’s song ended abruptly, a lengthy silence ringing louder than his previous solemn tune of fear and trepidation.

Al’s people stopped before entering. “Security, we need a shuttle at our present location,” Al said, loud enough they could overhear. “I’m not about to get into a small metal box where no one can identify what’s happening. If you get any opposition, feel free to kill whomever you need to.” Solomon’s began a new composition Al had taught him, this time the Apocalypse Now theme. The Tissk stiffened, knowing something had gone significantly wrong somehow.

‘Are you anticipating trouble, or just sending a message?‘ Lizzle asked.

“No one is trying anything. Yet given the current tensions, I’d rather not give anyone the opportunity to try something.”

“You’ll be safe,” the Tissk personnel promised. “However there’s no way to get from the spaceport to the city without the shuttle. Your prisoners will need several trips to ferry them to a separate facility.”

“No,” Al countered. “We’re capable of making the journey ourselves. In fact, we can land our Zssizliq battleship in your city’s streets if necessary. But we insist on taking our shuttle, even if it means blowing an entrance for it in your shuttle bay. If nothing else, it’ll deliver a powerful message that we’ve lost confidence in the Tissk’s ability to be reasonable. A factor that will impact your future as a space-faring race.”

“Uh, in that case, you’ll need to...”

“Say no more. We’re heading out. Let us know when it’s safe to reenter.” His shuttle began broadcasting demands they open the bay doors immediately, or face reprisal.

Chich’k, however, went in another direction. “Me no cower, find own way.” She slipped into an air vent in the ceiling and disappeared.

“She can’t do that. She’ll be killed when the air is evacuated.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Al assured them as they left. “She’s experienced at this. By now she’s already accessed other secure areas of your facility, learning how to circumvent your security measures. She may be little, but she’s your worst enemy in a firefight!”

__________
“Welcome, Captain Al,” Gurrstlk said, standing as they entered the stately reception hall. “I’m sorry about the confusion at our space station. You were right. They should have informed you that you could take your own shuttle to the surface. I don’t think our normal procedures are appropriate in the current situation.”

“It’s more than that,” Al said in Trilck, waving his concern aside. “Despite our trusting you, we no longer trust the Tissk to behave rationally.” Solomon sang like a group trying its best to reach a complex note, but who continually hit the wrong ones, their timing off and their execution inefficient. It set everyone’s nerves on edge. “I offered a fair deal, which any reasonable person would have accepted. In response, you not only attempted to destroy our home, you refused to capitulate when caught in the act. Your belligerence and disregard for anyone else will impact the terms we’ll insist on.”

The hall was packed with Tissk observers, no other species present beside those accompanying Al. They openly glared at his Irrq and Plssam guests. Al was about to demand where they were holding Illkk, but observed him sitting center stage. Though his wrists were restrained and he wasn’t on his throne, he still held a position of authority. While everyone else watched Al’s every move, as it affected their futures, he never glanced back.

Standing beside Gurrstlk, was a well-dressed Tissk woman and a small child. They stood near him, apparently intimate with him.

Al also recognized Captain Kclekt, free due to his initial terms for their surrender. Al nodded, which he returned, before Al turned to his host. “I suggest you take your throne,” he told Gurrstlk. “I’m ready to begin.”

“I thought you’d want the honor,” he responded, which caused Illkk to tense. “After all, my position is temporary, while you are now deciding our future.”

“No thanks.” Al headed for a table near Illkk’s, speaking casually. “I don’t represent the Tissk and have no real grasp of your culture. Instead, I’m presenting the terms for your surrender. Whoever speaks for them—I’m assuming it’s you—can either accept or refuse.” He sat, glancing at Illkk, who glared back. “However, if you decline, we’ll continue destroying your spacecraft, including shuttles, traders, space stations and even this very city. Yet it’s still your choice how self-destructive you wish to be.

“By the way, our drones are already cleaning up the debris from your ships. We can easily dispose of it ourselves, melting it down to build wares for other worlds. We could return it, or surround your planet with it so you’ll never be able to venture offworld again. In case you don’t consider it a realistic threat, they’re also mining the local dark matter to ensure it remains where we put it.”

Solomon’s tune switched to that of a predator, observing its prey, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to swoop in, maximizing panic. Gurrstlk shrugged, mounting the stairs of the throne, without ever introducing his family, who remained standing at the base of the throne. He prepared to sit, but turned to study it before turning back to his audience.

“No, like you, I have no taste for this honor. This throne represents everything wrong with our culture, and I’ll have nothing to do with it.” Motioning his wife and child forward, he instead sat on the throne’s steps, settled on the awkward, hard marble before facing him again. “Please continue. Let’s hear your terms. Then, we’ll see whether Illkk has a response before I decide our future.” His family also sat on the hard steps, but two steps below him, also watching Al.

“You aren’t a legitimate Tissk commander!” Illkk insisted, struggling to stand erect as he shouted. “You bear no title, lead no armies and have no command experience. Instead, you’re our enemy’s puppet, selling our world for some imaginary favors he’ll never grant. We should remove you, slit your and these other interlopers’ throats and toss you all into the pit with the rest of our foes!”

Solomon now sang the song of a lone buoy, sitting alone at sea, bobbing in place, unmoored and affecting no one.

“The pit?” Al asked.

In response, Gurrstlk indicated a round circle in the stone floor, currently sealed. “It’s where we execute our political enemies. They’re thrown into the pit where they’re forced to fight for their lives against other sentenced criminals. The winner only loses a hand, while the losers forfeit everything.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to avoid it in the future.”

“Those in the pit don’t choose their fate,” Illkk snarled. “The Pit reveals how quickly those claiming high ideals turn on each other. It picks who lives and dies, just as we decide winners and losers. You’re merely an interloper, with no standing to determine anything.”

Solomon sang a chipper ditty, sounding like schoolchildren tittering over a foolish prank. Al shrugged. “Okay.” He stood, all his people rising with him. Solomon fell silent and Chich’k peered at them from a massive stone column. “Let the bombing continue.” He gazed up, speaking towards the cathedral ceiling towering over their heads. “One, start destroying all the remaining Tissk ships. You can eliminate the spaceport once we depart.”

“Wait!” someone wearing a long flowing white robe interrupted. “Let’s hear your terms before we decide how we’ll proceed. While Gurrstlk was only assigned his post in exchange for halting your assault, Illkk is no longer our Supreme Commander. He only speaks for himself. His fate, like those in the pit, is not his to dictate.”

“Hold on a second, One.” Al turned to face the man. “Who are you, and what faction do you represent?”

“It’s our preeminent Judge, Aon Tyroll,” Gurrstlk explained, his wife clasping her son’s hand. “He’s the one who interprets our laws as they apply to any argument. Since anything I decide will automatically be reviewed by him, his opinion is critical to the discussion.”

Solomon’s tune changed again, echoing the sounds of a solitary boat rowing across a quiet lake stopping to collect a fellow traveler. “Fine.” Al sat, though his entourage remained standing—the only ones armed besides him and the few court officers. “That’s all I ask. As I said, I’m offering you the option. How you decide is your choice, though your previous actions determine our conditions.

“Your decisions demonstrate your untrustworthiness. Between your terrorizing other worlds, your attempt to assassinate us rather than negotiate, and blatantly ignoring our entirely reasonable terms reveals your deceitful natures. Therefore mine are appropriately severe.

“You will forfeit all the military craft you stole from the Shumarllii. Though you may retain any civilian trading vessels and ships of your own construction, provided you remove all of their disruptors.”

“We’ll never surrender what’s ours!” Illkk screamed, twisting to face Al, though his motions were hampered by his restraints. “You’re unworthy to refer to the Elder Ones by their sacred name!” His wrists were bound by iron bracelets attached to chains fastened to a steel ring on the underside of the defense table. He had room to move, and motion, but not enough to do much else. “We journeyed to their homeworld, saw they were dead, and took what no one else had any claim to. They belong to us and us alone. We won’t allow you to steal them from us!”

“Please!” Al leaned back and extending his legs, getting comfortable. Solomon sang a chaotic interlude, sounding as if someone was playing discordant, unorganized notes. “I’ve got no use for such inferior tools. As I’ve stated, their ships pale in comparison to ours. Your disruptors are not only pitiful, they’re dangerous. It partially accounts for why your vessels were destroyed by a single laser pulse. I won’t allow anyone to continue using them, though we were willing to trade for them. But you’ve proven you can’t be trusted with warships of any kind.”

“You can’t dictate the future the Tissk choose for themselves!”

“Again, I respect that. Even if I did, your resentments will only flare up again if you don’t voluntarily accept my terms. However, the fate of your fleet rests with us. We can destroy them at any moment, preventing you from ever leaving the planet. Beyond that, if you want to debate the details, we can do it from space as we assault your world and level this very city. But the choice to sell your people down the river is yours alone.”

“Sit down!” Aon Tyroll told Illkk. “As you well know, you are no longer in any position to issue demands or negotiate terms. Since the Supreme Leader is whoever commands the most respect, your being so readily deposed negates any claims you once had to the post. Meanwhile, Gurrstlk’s recognition that we could never prevail justifies his appointment. Instead, you’ll soon face charges which may cost you your life and your family’s possessions.” He turned to Al, as Solomon switched to a calming tune.

“What happens to our ships?” Gurrstlk prodded. “You must admit, requiring us to surrender our entire fleet is excessively punitive, notably as we’ve earned many enemies. We also have no other weapons than those you oppose. Previously you offered to trade us newer defensive arms for our existing offensive ones. If you impose the sanctions you’re threatening, we’ll be defenseless.”

“This peon has no authority to negotiate!” Illkk shouted, struggling to stand.