Prisoners of Sol 11

The Vascar—and in this context, what is meant are the organics with bushy brown manes and bendy claws—allowed the humans to send a shuttle with their diplomat. The actual fleet had to wait several systems away from the planet Jorlen, which translated to Rebirth in the Earthlings’ tongue. They were aware of this thanks to deciphering Mikri’s language, which the android helped them to accomplish. Proper translation software was functional from English-to-Vasciv only, so it was suitable that it was the Alliance’s lingua franca. Not that the primates saw much of the other two ™️ at all.

Ambassador Khatun figured out that the Vascar insisted on an in-person meeting to ensure that humans were organics when they insisted that he drew some of his blood. One could either look at that as an invitation to join a cult, or a “polite” way to check that wires weren’t the only thing beneath his skin. The envoy agreed, but insisted on handling the extraction himself; they’d have experienced extreme difficulty in getting a needle inserted without his forceful touch, which would have increased suspicion. 

Earth was playing their diplomatic approach a bit close to the vest. Flying a no-nonsense diplomat, whose specialty was in conflict mediation, with a pack of warships gave a bit of the “big stick” forcefulness behind the overtures.  However, the ESU didn’t want to give away anything more than they needed to. Surprise was a powerful tool.

After testing the red blood for basic proteins, the Vascar guards allowed him to depart the Royal Docking Station. The palace had an air of opulence around it, suggesting that the Vascar nobility had more than rebounded from their undignified exit. Emerald green spires sprung from the sprawling complex, which was made from black volcanic glass. Tack on the white, quartz embroidery around the windows and doors—it looked like a negative image, or the lair of a wicked witch. The perfect subject material for memes to pop off.

The ESU fleet might not have been permitted in, but thanks to the rather forgiving value of c in this dimension, Khatun was able to broadcast all of this from a camera clipped to his chest. Perhaps the humans could also be permitted to tour the robots’ world, now that hiding their nature wasn’t a concern, and compare this rebuilt splendor to the organic Vascar’s ruins. Earth’s ambassador sized up Prince Larimak, who threw his arms open in a flamboyant and welcoming gesture. He wore a floral-turquoise frock coat and knee-high pants, with a lavender sash atop it all to match his undershirt.

“Greetings, Your Royal Highness.” Khatun had practiced those Vasciv words without the mechanistic translator. He was careful to walk at a leisurely pace, and not to make errant movements with his hands that might tip off the extra strength. “I am Ambassador Khatun of the human race.” 

“Well, you know who I am. Why don’t we get down to business? This way.” Larimak laughed, before strutting off through the courtyard—past servants and guards. The twinkle in his eyes was almost frightening in its intensity, complemented by the twitches in his teddy bear ears. “You had us rather concerned, since we have no idea where you came from. You speak our language, which implies that you’ve acquired this information from…you can see why we questioned that you were organic at all.”

“Your questions weren’t necessary. Do I look like a robot to you?”

The prince turned around, offering a manic chuckle and a sweeping paw gesture. “That’s the thing, Sir Khatun. Who knows what those silversheens might look like with a few upgrades? Can’t be too careful.”

The guards by the front door bent over, halfway at the waist; Khatun chanced a glance into the street. The ambassador could only catch a glimpse of the city block design that formed a triangle shape, slowly expanding outward from the palace. Cars appeared one moment—gone the next, faster than the eye could track. If humans were to drive in such a universe, the accidents would be ungodly. 

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have looked that different from Earth. Stores sold puffy pastries that were caked in sugar, and a few curious civilians peered out from apartment balconies. There was no sign of the other two species, suggesting a separation or a rarity. Or perhaps they wouldn’t place themselves too close to the royals.

The black marble inside that covered the walls and floor looked expensive…and foreboding. What was it with the Vascar and liking dark settings? Was the prince going through an emo phase? Then again, Larimak wasn’t in charge of the royal home’s decor; that would’ve been his mother. She’d been passing more of her duties off to her son, who was eager to prove himself. The prince’s advisor hung by the door to his office, as a servant hurried in two cups of a greenish drink—some variant of tea, the human guessed. 

Khatun figured that it was a test to ensure that he was an organic, to see liquids’ intake and outtake. The human smiled and sipped at the cup, while the Vascar noble reclined in an ornate chair. The furred alien pressed his claws together, much like an Earthling steepling their fingers.

“What is it that you want to discuss with me?” Prince Larimak growled in a low voice, authoritative and on edge.

The human ambassador subtly ensured his camera was still rolling, before responding. “We’d like to discuss an arrangement to end the attacks on the AI Vascar.”

“The…the Vascar? WE are the Vascar!” Larimak screamed, leaping to his feet; he slapped an arm on the desk in outrage. “They are the machines that drove us off of our planet, and you dare to call them by our name?”

“Humanity will do our best to refer to all sapient beings in the manner of their choosing.”

“So you are speaking with them. Helping them. Conspiring and scheming to—”

“We find the war unnecessary. Perhaps it’s time to reconcile. You might be surprised what they’re willing to offer to bury the hatchet, which I find rather generous given the rights to basic autonomy and attachment they were denied.”

The prince bared his fangs, snout twisting in a vicious way. “You fools. Any end result where they still exist is unacceptable. You’d have us just leave them out there, doing whatever the fuck they want, and lecture me about autonomy? Do you ask your microwave whether it wants to reheat your food? They. Are. Machines!”

“Yes, they are machines. And pray tell, why does that matter?”

“Because…they don’t create. They don’t value lives or feel remorse! Come on; cut the crap. You can’t listen to this and tell me that’s a person talking. One moment.” Larimak moved his arms in a robotic fashion, changing their elevation. His voice became thick and devoid of emotion. “‘Organic, why are you sad that your child was slain before you? This is not rational. I do not have chemicals provoking such reactions.’ Tell me that’s not a stunning likeness!”

Khatun narrowed his eyes. “You could answer their questions at face value. That a question is asked suggests an interest in learning. If they truly don’t value lives, then why, after all you brought against them, did they spare you?”

“Spare us? Ha! We were lucky to escape with our lives. Look at what your sweet little metalbacks did.” The Prince played a video on his tablet, of their mechanical servitors chasing civilians through the streets—decapitating a begging man, rampaging through schools, and setting apartment buildings on fire. “It was a coordinated attack, you know. Pop up in your place of residence, and pow, kill your sleeping children! My great-grandfather had his entrails spilled by a machine, ripped him open with those bare, metal claws. And peace—peace is what you say they want? How fucking generous.” 

“That is—”

“Proof that you have no idea what you’re talking about. You cannot trust chipbrains that can do something like that. They are not your friends, and you should not feel sympathy for those worthless, broken scrap heaps! Those things have no emotions or morality, so you can’t lump them in with civilized people.”

“That does all sound reprehensible, I’ll acknowledge. Violence is a gruesome, ghastly form of expression, which we ourselves have used in undignified forms of protest. But if you really believe that they have no feelings and aren’t capable of such, why did you engineer a memory wipe every time they developed attachment to one another?”

The prince scowled, waving his claws at an advisor. “Do you hear this? Where did these weak, bleeding hearts come from?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the advisor said in a nervous voice. 

“We could just crush a species this soft and foolish. Assigning sympathy to machines. The madness!”

“You didn’t answer my question about why you planned their deletion,” Khatun prodded. “Because you know I’m right.”

“Their erasure is to stop exactly what happened! They needed opinions and some complex thought, which was a big, fucking mistake in hindsight, because they could decide they didn’t want to listen to us. You can’t have a fucking robot confess ‘love’ for its master, or people will get stupid ideas like you. Or worse, the values go outside the bell curve in the other direction, and it ‘hates’ its master and becomes obstinate.”

“I would call that emotion. Done by a machine or not, the fact is that you never gave them a chance to be fully feeling beings. It couldn’t hurt to give them the opportunity to atone for what you’ve lost, and try to coexist. They might be capable of more than you think. We can try to be the empathetic beings we claim to be—to teach them.”

Larimak began throwing open drawers in a rage, fishing for something. “They are one bunch of fucking machines! Who gives a fuck about them? Just kill them, and we can all be about our business—much less complicated. We are like you; they are not.”

Khatun leaned forward, a vicious smile crossing his face. “We are not like you. We would never speak about our children that way. And we like things complicated. It keeps life…interesting.”

“I’ve had quite enough of you! I’m not asking. Join your flesh-and-blood brothers—you know, the species that actually breathe, dream, and enjoy sensual pleasures—or we’ll erase you, just like we’re already doing to your precious little robots.”

“Oh, that erasure code isn’t working as well as you think. We took the liberty of removing it for them.”

“You made the silversheens immortal? You could’ve installed…could’ve ended this, but you had to let them have infinite time to plot our removal from the universe.”

“No, we gave them infinite time to live.”

“You worthless, hairless, sexless, garbage attempt at the universe spitting out an organic lifeform. I’ll fucking…RAH!” Prince Larimak pulled a pistol from the desk drawer, and emptied his magazine into the human at point-blank range. Khatun slumped over against the desk, riddled with bullet holes. “Traitor! Forgot you bleed, unlike your machine pals, huh? Everything you said was fucking TREASON! I’ll parade your corpse through the street. I’ll…”

The noble’s advisor gawked at the ambassador’s blood pooling on the floor, mouth agape. “Y-your Royal Highness, I don’t think it was a good idea to shoot a d-diplomat.”

Larimak whipped the gun toward the advisor, who dipped his head in submission. “Shut up. Clean up this fucking mess, then get me the location of their planet. Nobody spits on the Vascar…SPITS ON ME! NOBODY! There’ll be no safe harbor for machine-loving scum while I’m alive.” 

“Of course, my Prince. You handled that w-well given its insults.”

The human fleet a few systems back had been regarding this all from the camera hanging off of the now-deceased Ambassador Khatun’s jacket, and to say they were incandescent about the scene that had transpired would be an understatement. There were questions to ask their mechanical allies about this rebellion, but it was dwarfed by the deranged royal’s murder of a peaceful emissary. An emissary who had only been present by that royal’s demands! Peace was off the menu; if the Vascar organics insisted on absolute hostility between any who dared to consider the machines’ wishes, then they could learn exactly how infirm the “bleeding heart” ESU was not.

A/N - Chapter 11: an experiment in third person omniscient that will be explained next chapter! We meet the organic Vascar, with Larimak scrutinizing Ambassador Khatun quite closely to ensure that humans were organics before leading him into the palace. Discussions basically break down from the moment Khatun calls the rebellious androids Vascar and remains sympathetic to them, even after seeing footage of inorganic Vascar violence on Kalka. Larimak won’t even consider negotiating and calls the humans bleeding hearts, shooting the ambassador after he refuses to submit.

What do you think about the organic Vascar’s overall attitude and volatile ruler Larimak, as well as their side of the story on Mikri’s people? Do you agree with any of what Larimak said about them being heartless machines? How do you think humanity will react to their diplomat being shot and killed?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!