The Taishon Tar Conference, while hailed in its time as a great event, did two things well but had one giant flaw.
While it solved the immediate problem of calming the Psstips border species about Aligned fleet actions, and was the start of the greater framework of contracts that led to the formation of the Aligned Systems, it set a precedent of hubris.
Not one of the species most impacted by this agreement was included in the conference.
While it mostly worked in this instance, mainly because of the urgent need for assistance among those species, it planted a sliver of ignorance into the races who later formed the Aligned Systems.
Unattended, this hubris could and would grow into the same feeling of moral superiority that caused the initial border disputes and imperial colonial thinking it should have addressed in the first place.
— Excerpt from Contemplations on Aligned Systems Diplomacy*, required Trkik diplomatic study material, ca. 900 P.I.
Admiral Sanders scrolled through the proposal again.
Ambassador Chiprit and Mekari had drafted a masterpiece, or rather two masterpieces.
The proposal she was about to present to the Flirr delegation was simple.
The Flirr lend the space and resources to the Shraphen Colonial Government on Taishon Tar. Each used resource drawn from the system, except solar energy, has to be repaid.
They allow Human and Psstips fleet presence only until the Nuk and Shraphen fleets arrive. After that, Human and Psstips fleets will only be accepted for refit and resupply, or when called upon for defensive purposes.
The Shraphen and Nuk fleets will be allowed to build space infrastructure and industry to fill those refit and resupply needs. This infrastructure will be given to the Flirr after the war.
The repayment of the resources to the Flirr and the supervision of all fleet activities in the Flirr system would be handled by the Trkik Peace Fleet, with Flirr representatives as guests on board.
The genius part was a single sentence that appeared in both copies, identical but for one phrase.
The Flirr version read: The Great Nekoorian Republic urgently requests access to the system.
The Psstips version read: The Great Nekoorian Republic generously grants protection through the stationing of its fleets.
Both sides saved face, and Sanders could focus on saving all those boneheaded idiots from their pride again.
‘Admiral, the Flirr delegates are waiting in the conference room.’
Zeus reminded her that she still had to sell the contract to the Flirr themselves. But in her mind, only true idiots would reject what was basically a present.
By the time we're finished building up their space defenses and infrastructure, we'll probably have quadrupled their industrial output. And they get all of that for free.
Two days of talking to the Flirr via radio had made Sanders despise them.
At first, she had been sympathetic toward the former Psstips vassals. Especially since she found their physiology fascinating.
Roughly squidlike but furred and mammalian by nature, they were by far the most alien aliens she had encountered.
But she soon discovered another Flirr trait.
Their ungodly, unreasonable stubbornness.
Any slightly reasonable being she had ever encountered would be at least a bit grateful for having their ass saved. Not the Flirr.
I could just fire on their capital and say, oops, I didn't know that was loaded…
Pushing away the intrusive thought, she mentally prepared herself to sit again in front of the aquarium her engineers had built into the conference room, since the Flirr would not trust any spacesuit built by Humans.
Then why do you trust the aquarium…
Her instincts told her it was a domination gesture. Forcing the Humans to adapt their ships, rather than adapting to a Human atmosphere themselves.
She packed her data slate and went on her way.
"Admiral, Lieutenant Spencer-Ming here. Our guests are getting agitated about the delay."
The comm call from her diplomatic advisor wasn't surprising. She had indeed wasted time intentionally. The Flirr had ordered her to start the conference at 09:15, and no one orders her around on her flagship.
"On my way. Tell them that for every time they complain, I have to file their complaint in my official logbook. That takes about fifteen minutes extra."
The fact that she was almost at the conference room made her slow down a bit, before she reminded herself of the stakes this meeting carried.
Mentally bracing herself for the droning deep infrasound the Flirr used to communicate, she entered.
The Martian-born Lieutenant was in the middle of excusing her delay with a white lie about some undefined fleet emergency.
Not what I told you to say, Spencer-Ming…
She put on her diplomatic face, the trained frozen smile with the closed lips the Psstips memo had mentioned, to hide her teeth, since showing teeth seemed to be a no-go in Flirr culture.
The fact that Humans and Psstips couldn't retract their teeth like the Flirr didn't matter.
"Central Gultra, please excuse me for being late. We had some issues with our flux capacitors, and engineering needed advice on how to rotate the Stargate."
Lieutenant Spencer-Ming rolled his eyes at Sanders' words, a motion not noticeable to the Flirr, since they had no eyes but perceived their surroundings via sonar and electromagnetic sensors.
"This is unacceptable, Central Sanders, as well as the offensive contract you have sent us. The Flirr swarm will not accept such extortion."
Who exactly had spoken was unclear, since all Sanders heard was the deep infrasound from the aquarium and a speech synthesizer on the desk. But Sanders assumed it was the centrally positioned Flirr among the five beings in the tank.
Sanders remembered her briefing about Flirr hierarchy. They think like a swarm, so the one in the middle is best protected, but also decides which way to go.
"Central Gultra, I fear I don't understand. What section of our proposal do you feel is extortion?"
The answer, an even deeper infrasound drone, slowly gave her a headache.
"You want us to take over all your space infrastructure without it being transformed into the only correct environment? Have you any idea what costs the Swarm must endure to rebuild a gas-gasper environment into liquid grace?"
Now Sanders rolled her eyes. The environmental racism the Psstips memo had mentioned was real.
"Also, your 'contract' doesn't mention any reparations for our ships destroyed by the attacking Infectors. The Psstips armada utterly failed to protect them."
Yes, they didn't protect you because you morons fired on them first.
"And then there's the audacity to act graciously in repaying the extracted resources without even thinking about paying any interest. How do you defend this behavior?"
Sanders cleared her throat.
"First, the environmental adaptation can be done by our engineers in hours, especially if the infrastructure is built with this adaptation in mind. Secondly, your fleet fired on the Psstips, even after getting fired upon by the Infectors, so that one is on your captains, and on them alone. But the space infrastructure we leave behind is capable of building ten times the fleets you lost in a single month."
She had to remember to breathe. The arrogance of her guests exhausted her. They did not see that all of this was not important. Fighting the Infectors was. The rest was just decoration.
"And lastly, you get a free system upgrade that will advance you at least a hundred years, you get free system defenses that will repel any potential invader, and you get your system defended by friendly forces in what might be an extermination war. So please excuse me for being so blunt, but what the hell more do you want?"
The droning from the aquarium grew deeper, then another voice came from the synthesizer.
"We will allow the air-gaspers to rethink their stance and order a break until 10:25 board time, to allow cooler streams to take center."
With that, the five Flirr retreated into the hidden parts of the aquarium.
Sanders stood there, expressionless.
Spencer-Ming pointed at the door to the hallway.
After they left, the Lieutenant turned to Sanders.
"Sir, with all due respect, what the hell was that?"
Not expecting a Lieutenant to dress her down so harshly, Sanders was on the back foot.
"What? What was that?"
"Sir, you basically treated them as ungrateful bastards."
Sanders studied the Lieutenant, then countered.
"Because they are. Unreasonable, ungrateful bastards, to be exact."
"Sir? What do you know about their history?"
"Not much, except the Psstips uplifted them and then, after a few rebellions, decided they weren't worth the fight."
"Well, that's half the truth, sir. But from their perspective, they were a medieval civilization invaded by space wizards. And they beat them back. In their mind, they have every right to feel superior."
"Still…"
"Sir, you're not talking to someone used to thinking system-wide. You're talking to the grandson of some medieval king who defeated the Psstips. They don't care about some little war."
"Lieutenant, the war isn't a little war. Without us, they would all be dead or dying by now."
"They don't believe the Infectors are a danger to them. From their point of view, we brought the Infectors to them and use them as an excuse to vassalize the great Flirr again. They aren't reasonable, and antagonizing them further won't help."
Sanders had to think through the Lieutenant's arguments.
How diplomatically would Henry the Third have acted after beating the Batract? Hell, how did we act after beating the Batract?
She remembered her own hubris, thinking freeing Burrow would be just a little planetary ass-kicking, shortly before the 7th Fleet was almost wiped out in less than an hour. And before the Infectors burned Burrow…
How could she fault the Flirr for the same arrogance?
She hid the shame she felt by fixing the collar on the Lieutenant's dress uniform.
"Thanks, Lieutenant. You remind me why the fleet thinks we admirals need a diplomatic advisor. But never dress me down like that again in a hallway, understood?"
The Lieutenant now noticed other officers and crewmen staring at them in the busy hallway, and his face turned red.
"Yes, sir."
"Now, I think we need our guests to see what's at stake. Can they 'See' a video stream?"
"The Psstips found a way to transmit moving pictures as propaganda to them. We can adapt this technology. What do you want to show them?"
Sanders paused. Then she made her decision. "The most gruesome archived videos we can find, especially the mountain of dead Shraphen at Shratora. We need them to see our point. And why I won't accept a no from them."
10:25 came almost too soon, but this time Admiral Sanders was on time for the meeting.
"We assume you want to add to your previous remarks, Central Sanders?"
Sanders had discussed how to approach the Flirr in this second round. She had decided against an excuse. No human medieval leader would say "Excuse me."
"Yes, Central Gultra, we do. We have prepared battlefield recordings to show you the true dangers of the Infectors."
"More propaganda?"
The irony that she used Psstips propaganda technology to show the recordings to the Flirr didn't escape Admiral Sanders, but those were the tools she had.
"Not propaganda. Truth."
"How can we trust the recordings aren't manipulated?"
How do you talk to someone who doesn't believe a word you say…
"Central Sanders? Why should we trust you? We just received a communication from the Central of the True Ones, the beings you call Infectors. They say you started the war, and the burning planets are your fault!"
That hit Sanders. The Infectors communicate?
"You did what?"
She had to control herself to keep the ice out of her voice.
The speech synthesizer on the table managed to convey a self-congratulatory arrogance as the Flirr continued.
"The True Ones are coming into the system to work out an armistice between us and them. They say they never intended to harm us, so you see, your being here is the true danger to our people. A True Ones delegation will arrive within the minute."
"You did what?!"
Her self-control almost gone, Sanders screamed her last words.
Before she could react, Zeus interrupted with a ship-wide alarm.
‘Attention. Unknown high-energy event detected. All hands to battle stations’.
A holographic screen opened. The camera zoomed to the inner solar system, inside the orbit of the system's innermost planet.
The screen showed a dark ring expanding. Its outer border seemed to burn with black, light-absorbing flames. Inside the ring, Sanders could see another solar system, slightly distorted, like a reflection in water.
Then Infectors exited the ring.
The googly-eye drone was destroyed by a particle beam. Sanders had counted fifteen Infectors before the drone was gone.
Her patience was gone. Fear and anger fought in her as she turned to the Flirr in the aquarium, consciously showing her teeth as she screamed at them.
"Do you know what you just did? You condemned your people."