1. Codes of Honour
The Council hall was in an uproar.
Keshin felt himself drooping a little as the shouts echoed around the amphitheatre unabated. Technically, it was his job as the Council Judge to restore order, but he had long since given up trying to control the Councillors. He felt a throbbing, dull pain in his head, coupled with a sort of painful, endless ache in his eyes; he fought the instinct to curl up under his desk and sleep.
Instead, he quietly resettled into his chair, his eight arms draping themselves over the sides, his four tentacles quietly wrapping themselves around his squid-like mantle. Thus fortified in the universal Cekolite gesture for quiet distress, Keshin allows his mind to wander. How had the Council turned so (verbally) violent? He cast his mind back.
It had been a relatively quiet session within the Council of Civilised Sentients. Keshin remembered peering about at the representatives of the various spacefaring species, listening to their concerns, mulling over issues, and keeping order. Some were trade disputes; others were more purely diplomatic or political. All were heard.
Eventually, the Councillor for the Sentaner people, Councillor Musko Takar, had stood from his seat, his insectoid head peering out at his fellows, his compound eyes glittering in the light. Everything below the head was sheathed in the distinctive cybernetic bodysuits of the Sentaner; wings, arms, body. He chattered in his fast-paced language, antennae waving, causing a second delay as automated translators took his various sounds and physical cues and processed them into something others could understand.
“The most elevated and lofty Federation of Sentane extends its beatific and gracious gratitude to the most munificent Council of Civilised Sentients,” Musko Takar had clicked away; the translators even managed to convey his gratuitously flowery language.
“Our most vigorous and energetic efforts to colonise and civilise the planets in the system C44B22 have come to fruition; two new paradises of plenty have been incorporated into the most glorious and heroic Federation. We warmly thank the Council for supporting us in this endeavour.” Said Musko Takar, jerkily bowing to his fellows as he finished.
Keshin had chuckled quietly to himself at the grandiose words, looking around at other Councillors, wondering who else found the display amusing.
His amusement quickly dissipated when his eyes fell upon the face of the Piskeni Councillor. A slender male in deep green robes with long, dark reddish hair, Keshin had a great deal of respect for Councillor Ikany; the Councillor was intelligent and well spoken, and knew the laws of the Council better than nearly anyone else in the room. Always dignified and graceful, Keshin had spoken to the Councillor only rarely; but each time he had left the conversation with a sense of well being and trust.
Thus, the sight that confronted Keshin confused and scared him: Ikany was sitting in his chair, his pale hands gripping the sides of his chair tightly, his dainty features displaying distrust… Or anger; what reason did the Piskeni have to be so angry, wondered Keshin to himself.
But then Musko Takar had continued, and Keshin had turned to listen once more.
“The most grand, respected and mighty Federation of Sentane also places before the bountiful Council of Civilised Sentients another Notification of Expansion, this time to the system B46C25, which we intend to incorporate into our most sanctified Federation.” Said Musko Takar; in the middle of the room, above a platform possessing a shallow concave, a holographic representation of the system flickered to life; a bright yellow star of moderate size, with eight planets of various sizes orbiting it.
Musko Takar seemed to be about to continue; before he had the chance, however, the sound of a chair being pushed back hard against a wall sounded throughout the amphitheatre; some of the more aurally sensitive species winced or grumbled at the disruption. Keshin turned to look at the disruption, and saw, with a sense of sudden dread, Councillor Ikany leaving his seat, standing up to his full, diminutive height of 5’1”.
“The Republic of Pisken requests that the Council adjourn for a time so that we may study this notification, as well as the worlds and system involved.” He said quickly, his voice surprisingly cold and harsh. Keshin was taken aback at the suddenness of the request, but nevertheless waved a tentacle of assent.
“The Council acquiesces to the Republic and shall be reconvened after a thirty minute break.” He said, quietly, his voice being automatically amplified by the hall’s technology and architecture.
The Councillors filed out, mumbling, talking amongst themselves. Keshin’s eyes watched as Councillor Ikany swept from the room with great haste. Keshin wondered what had bothered the Councillor so much; and most uncharacteristically, had wondered if he could help him in some way.
After all, he considered Ikany a friend.
Nevertheless, Keshin had not gone out of his way to find Ikany; instead, he had spent the break slowly shredding and eating a fish native to his Homeworld. His meal done, he shuffled back to the Council Hall, arriving ten minutes early; Keshin hated being late.
There was a curious sort of tension in the Council; an unspoken recognition that what was occurring was unusual, and thus worthy of interest. As the last few Councillors returned to their seats, Councillor Ikany remained standing, instead turning to face Keshin directly.
“The Republic of Pisken hereby formally disputes the Federation of Sentane’s Notification of Expansion on two points.” Said Councillor Ikany. Musko Takar seemed taken aback by this, as best as Keshin could tell from his understanding of Sentaner body language.
“The Council will hear the Republic’s reasoning.” Replied Keshin, and Ikany nodded curtly.
“The first matter is thus. The system that the Federation has chosen as a target is already occupied.” Said Ikany, pressing a button on his console; the holographic representation of the system flickered to life, focusing on the third planet from the sun.
“This planet here is a habitable planet by the standards of most civilised species; furthermore, it’s already inhabited by a civilised species. Although they are not aware of the Council or its members, they nevertheless possess the technology to leave their Homeworld, if in a limited capacity.” Said Ikany, gesturing to the world; a pleasing green and blue world, Keshin noted; more land than his own sea-covered world, yet still plenty of water. At least, he assumed it was water.
“As a civilised people,” Said Ikany, continuing, “The Republic requests that the Council deny this expansion; an attack on a civilised, spacefaring society is tantamount to an attack on the Council itself.” He finished up, turning to the rest of his fellows and awaiting the response.
“The proud and honourable Federation refute the claims of the perfidious Republic.” Musko Takar replied. “The world is inhabited, but as you noted, they are unaware of the most excellent and prestigious Council of Civilised Sentients. As they are unaware of it, they are not members; civilised or no, inhabited or no, they are not protected by the fair and even Council; thus, the righteous and law-abiding Federation is breaking no compact; the treacherous Republic has no legal basis for its refutation.” It was difficult to tell just from looking, but Keshin realised that Musko Takar was more than a little upset at this turn of events.
However, before Keshin could reply, Ikany spoke up once more. “That would ordinarily be true. However, we believe that the people of B46C25, despite not being aware of the Council, nevertheless qualify for its protection. See, the world here is known to us in the Republic under a different name: Misammar. It was once home to a Piskeni nation, which unfortunately collapsed a great many years ago.” Ikany bowed his head quietly for a moment, as if in mourning, before continuing.
“The society that now populates the planet is a genetic offshoot of the Piskeni; similar enough that breeding would be possible. Thus, under our laws, the planet qualifies as, essentially, the successor to a Piskeni territory, making them Piskeni themselves; and as the Piskeni are part of the Council, this qualifies them at least as candidates for Council membership… Granting them protection from invasion.” Said Ikany, his moment of mourning replaced by a small, self-assured grin.
Keshin had waved his tentacles emphatically at this, buoyed and cheered by Ikany’s speech. It was true! These people were Piskeni, should be protected, should be kept safe…
“Lies!” Spat Musko Takar, his anger quite apparent even without translation. He was hissing, and had unconsciously reared back, his upper and middle limbs stretching out aggressively. “The unfortunate people of this lovely and rich world do not consider themselves Piskeni; they probably possess too much self-worth for such a debasing and humiliating act.”
The Councillors started to mumble and whisper to each other at this; Ikany looked incensed. Keshin quietly tapped his console once. “Order.” He said, and the mumbling died down a little.
Musko Takar, however, continued. “The most insulted and angered Federation of Sentane demands that the lying broodless of the Republic be denounced by the Council; this is obviously a cheap and lying ploy to halt our worthy expansion, with the pretext of ‘protecting a state’.” Said Musko Takar, his mandibles scissoring menacingly. “The morally-unassailable and forever-perfect Federation of Sentane believes that there is too thin a pretext for these claims.”
Keshin deflated a little. It was true. The pretext Ikany had used was clever, but in a sort of loophole-exploiting way. It was, for lack of a better term, a very lawyer-esque thing to do. “Without support, Chancellor of the Republic, the Council cannot recognise your disputation.” Said Keshin, trying hard to sound impartial.
“Then the Republic moves to request support from its fellow states.” Said Ikany quietly, turning to face the other Councillors. Many averted their eyes, and for good reason.
Keshin knew that, if this continued, the result would be a ‘legal war’. The Federation had not broken any law, and thus the Council lacked the power to fully denounce the Sentaner; they would be free to expand into Misammar if they so wished. On the other hand, if the Piskeni garnered support –even from one other Councillor- then their claim would have enough weight to avoid being dismissed as well. The Piskeni and their allies would have the right to interdict the Sentaner… Violently. A legal war.
No Councillor in the hall was willing to plunge its people into a war with another state simply over the fate of a single world. That the lives there would be lost was regrettable, but not worth a war.
“Any of you? Please?” Pleaded Ikany, his tone urgent and gentle, looking around the room; as Ikany’s gaze fell on Keshin, their eyes met; he felt a sudden tightness in his body, a worry, a desire to assist the Councillor anyway he could. The Councillor seemed so sad, and Keshin wanted to help, wanted to soothe that sadness…
Then, abruptly, the moment passed with the sound of someone standing. Every pair (or more) of eyes in the amphitheatre turned towards one of the Councillors: Councillor Gydon of the Khardun. Tall and dominating, standing at 7’6”, and wearing a long, elegant red sari, with deep orange fur and the distinctive developed, strong-jawed Khardun feline face, she struck an imposing, impressive figure in any situation.
Gydon pointed at Musko Takar with one of her four arms. “The Khardun support the Piskeni in their dispute. The ideal of the Piskeni Republic stands synchronised with the philosophies of my people: to kill and attack civilised, sentient beings is a shameless crime- we officially support the Republic in this.” Her voice was deep, rich and proud.
Ikany beamed, before turning back to Musko Takar, who was visibly shaking with fury.
With Gydon’s words, the entire hall burst into noise and confusion as every Councillor moved to make their opinion known.
That had how the situation had degenerated, thought Keshin. That was why he had lost control of the assembly. He quivered slightly on his chair; it didn’t seem as though the noise would end soon.
Instead, Keshin turned his gaze towards Gydon and Ikany, both of whom had approached the other to discuss the turn of events. In a sense, thought Keshin, both had acted out of the same ideal.
The Khardun Hegemony and the Republic of Pisken rarely saw eye to eye. The Hegemony was dominated by scholars and idealists, philosophers who drove to turn the nation into following its philosophies of freedom and righteousness; quite different to the pragmatically lawful Piskeni.
And yet, despite the differing views, they both stood together, allies united by their differing codes of honour; the pragmatic Piskeni and the idealistic Khardun.
Keshin quietly disengaged from the Council hall, knowing full well he couldn’t control the room. Instead, he retreated to his own private quarters.
Keshin’s private quarters were spacious, luxurious, and suited to his Cekolite physiology. The lighting was dark and blue-tinted, the walls pastel blue. A large pool of water sat in the corner, the starlight glinting and twinkling across its surface, looking seductively relaxing. The temperature was cool and pleasant, and for the first time in several hours, Keshin felt truly relaxed.
He shambled over to the pool, his arms dragging him across the floor; he let out a quiet sigh as he slipped into the water, spreading out his body, allowing his tentacles and arms to creep toward the edges. Thus relaxed, he turned to a nearby wall, activated a holographic display with his voice, and queued up a series of articles on Misammar.
He recognised the planet by now. Blue and green, with a great deal of ocean, teeming with life; the landmasses often teemed with flora and fauna, diverse and varied; Keshin enjoyed a moment of amusement as he saw images of squid and octopuses, marvelling at how this planet, so far away from his Homeworld, had nevertheless produced creatures that resembled Cekolites.
And of course, the inhabitants… A single, dominant species, bipedal, with two arms; warm-blooded mammals, similar to the Piskeni or the Khardun; there was a great deal of diversity to the species, a trait, Keshin noted, shared by many species before entering space in any significant capacity.
The act of becoming a space civilisation seemed to standardise culture, for some reason. Perhaps it was a single dominant culture winning out above all others.
For seven hours, Keshin sat in his pool, watching, reading, and learning all he could about the inhabitants of Misammar. Keshin was patient and studious- a trait shared by many in his culture- and he paid attention, thirsted for the information. He learned the names of the species in dozens of their tongues: umano, adam, ren, anthropos, homo, hito, mensch, human.
Keshin learned that the name given to the species at large was ‘Proto-Piskenite B46C25’, planet-bound Piskeni hailing from B46C25, deviating from the standard Piskeni species, yet nevertheless related. In more common use, however, was the term ‘Misammari’.
From Misammar.
Keshin learned of the various cultures, the civilizations, the histories and advancements. He couldn’t learn everything, of course, but he felt like he had at least made a good start.
Keshin learned of what they ate, how they ate, the resources they relied upon, the ethics and driving forces of their species.
Keshin saw, in the Misammari, all the signs of a growing civilization. A civilization that was flourishing and expanding, a civilization experiencing intense growing pains. Perhaps it was expanding too fast, thought Keshin. Perhaps if they slowed down their problems would go away.
But what did he know? The Misammari had accomplished in two hundred standard years what had taken the Cekolites eight hundred. What did he know about too fast? Everything was too fast for the Cekolites.
Even he was too fast for the Cekolites, mused Keshin to himself.
And finally, at the end of his marathon, Keshin felt… Sadness. He realised that all he had just learned, all he had just seen was, in many ways, almost a time capsule. The societies he had just studied existed, but they were temporary things. Wisps of light about to be snuffed out by the darkness.
He felt pity for the billions on that planet, who would look to the sky to see it darken with the bombs and blasts of the Sentaner fleet, who would systematically bombard the defenseless cities and population centres.
Once the preliminary bombardment had been completed, the Sentaner invasion would begin. Tens of thousands of pods would descend from the sky, filled with Sentaner soldiers; each pod would contain some ten thousand soldiers, or more. Enough to outnumber the entirety of the Misammari militaries in a single wave. A single wave! There would be more. Wave upon wave; the Sentaner had both the reserves and the ruthlessness to care little about casualties.
The Sentaner troops possessed no free will; they would not differentiate between a combatant and a civilian. Once they landed on Misammar, they would attack Misammari; once the soldiers had been killed, they’d start on the others. Refugees, children, non-combatants. Bystanders.
They would stop only when the entire planet had been purged of Misammari, or until every Sentaner troop had been killed.
Keshin had to forcibly remind himself that there was not evil in this act. It wasn’t so much evil as it was just pure nature, the force of instinct, of biological warrior programming. They weren’t butchering innocents on purpose; they were butchering them for being Misammari.
Nevertheless, Keshin pitied the fate that awaited the young, unsuspecting species. In his heart of hearts, the one that allowed him to be partial, he secretly hoped that the Piskeni and the Khardun could do something to prevent such a horrific, catastrophic extermination.
They would, wouldn’t they? They had to.
