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Negotiations failed on the third day Terran-Untosi Pact. It’s hard to say where we went wrong, but I put it down to them knowing too much. They knew they could win their war against the Dalir, leaving us isolated. They knew that once they had the Dalir in chains, they could do the same to us. And what scared me the most was that they knew we needed the Pact more than they did.The terms were chosen carefully. Both sides would make compromises, which were outweighed by the benefits. There would be cooperation on economic, scientific and cultural matters, not to mention the all-important peace treaty. As a diplomat for the UN Sentient Rights Commission, I was responsible for putting forward the conditions for the Untosi improving the treatment of the ‘client races’ they’d enslaved. Emancipation wasn’t something they would agree to any time soon, what with slavery being a supposedly vital part of their society, so I’d been asked to tone that part down. I didn’t agree one bit, but grit my teeth and did as I was asked anyway. Not that it helped.
The God-Emperor of the Untosi had impassively listened to us all speak, not speaking throughout the proceedings. He just sat there on his silver throne, leaning his hairless head against a slim grey arm, staring at us with those blank orange eyes. Their Treasurer was more active in the proceedings, but spent at least a third of the proceedings with a finger to his headset as he received messages on other matters. But at least they conducted themselves better than their General, who treated our proposal for a peace treaty with barely concealed disdain. In the end, it was their Ambassador who politely turned down our offer, and thanked us for our time.
Back at the Terran Enclave, bordering the slums of the Untosi capital, there was an atmosphere of dull shock hanging over the delegation. Our chief ambassador was called to a vid-link with the Secretary General, while many others went back to their quarters in disgust. Try as I might, I couldn’t leave my office. It felt so wrong to go do my own thing now, when a crisis was looming. But at the same time, there was little I could do without a full debriefing and several planning sessions. None of which were going to happen tonight.
So, after throwing today’s documentation across the room, I settled for standing at the window and staring out at the city. In one direction, apathetic Untosi citizens slept soundly, unaware and uncaring of the fate of Earth at the hands of their own military. In the other direction, slaves dreaded another day of oppression, with Terran humanitarian aid being one of their only hopes. And here I was, trying to secure a place between saving the latter and not angering the former. Some days, it seemed impossible, and I felt that I was accomplishing nothing.
“Still here, Graham?”
Stephanie, the leader of my negotiation team, was standing in the doorway. Tired, like the rest of us, but not in as bad a mood as I was. We could always trust her to keep a level head.
“Just thinking.” I said.
She nodded, and stepped up to the window beside me. “Don’t sweat it over today. You did a fine job.”
“And they rejected the terms.”
“So, we refine them,” Stephanie replied. “We start tomorrow.”
Although encouraging, it was far too easy to think of it as simply preparing to charge into a brick wall once again. “Where are we going to start?”
Stephanie sighed. “Well, I’ve had a word with the powers that be. Among various things, I’m told that our request to improve the conditions of the slaves might not be tenable for the Untosi…”
“You can’t be serious. All these years, we’ve gone out of our way to help them, despite what their masters said. We can’t leave them now.”
“The Untosi will not accept those terms,” Stephanie insisted. “My hands are tied at this stage. We need to ensure our own safety before anything.”
I shook my head in disgust. “This isn’t what the UN stands for. Weren’t we supposed to be the species most willing to help others? And now, you’re asking me to betray them.”
Stephanie turned, looking me right in the eye. “I have family, Graham. Do you think I want them living under the threat of invasion? Do you think I want them facing enslavement by a species that does that out of simple tradition?”
After a few deep breaths, I nodded. We were both under a lot of stress, and taking shots at each other wouldn’t help anyone. “Of course not,” I replied quietly. “I know how you feel. There are people I care about as well.”
After a few moments, Stephanie petted me on the arm. On her way to the doorway, she made a suggestion. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we regroup, and try again. We’re not out of the game yet.”
Reluctantly, I followed her advice. And to be fair, it was nice to get out into the cold night air, so I took the walk to my dwelling deliberately slow. More than half the buildings in the Enclave were prefabs, but it still had a definite Terran vibe to it. ‘Little Earth’, some of the Blue Helmets call it. But at the same time, you’d look up and see a distinctly alien sky, with those three yellow moons and a blue-green nebula some light years away. While most of Untos was unimpressive and the natives difficult to get along with, the night was nothing short of stunning.
As I stepped inside the main room of my humble abode, I found the remains of my roommates’ dinner on the dining table. Dluom and Timse must have had their dinner already. A re-heated ration pack would do for me. I lacked the time or energy for much more than that. While my synthetic meal cooked, I went over to see the aliens in my bedroom.
In what was once my bed lay Timse, a Ganac girl of about eight years of age. I’d met her some years ago at an outreach programme for homeless youths. The poor thing looked barely out of the egg, and her dull green scales had been smeared with dirt. Like most Ganac, she’d never know her father. But her mother had been killed in an industrial accident, leaving her homeless. The cities and slums of Untos are dangerous and unaccommodating to slaves at the best of times, not to mention children without a place to go. That is, she didn’t have one until she met my other roommate.
Reciting a bedtime story at the end of the bed was Dluom, a Jalpt woman slightly younger than I. After being fired from one of her shifts at a factory, she’d started working at the Enclave, helping our aid efforts to make up for her lost income. A particularly nasty debate between the UN and a group of jingoistic Untosi landowners and employers resulted in her and a number of others being evicted and fired for alleged collaborationism. With living space being at a premium in the Enclave, a number of staff offered to share their dwellings with the now dispossessed former slaves. I wound up with Dluom, and she later insisted we take in Timse as well.
“[Hello, Graham!]” Timse said in the patois used by most Untosi slave species. “[You missed dinner.]”
I nodded guiltily, and forced a smile. No need to worry her about the failed negotiations. “[That I did. Work took much, much longer than it should have.]”
“[Dluom and I had pizza,]” she continued happily. We’d all certainly had a lot of fun attempting to recreate Terran dishes with local food they could eat. “[Didn’t save you any. Sorry.]”
“[I guess that’s what I get for being late. I don’t think Ganac food would agree with me anyway.]”
Dluom smiled at me, before glancing at the clock. “[Come, now. I let you stay up to see Graham. Time for sleep.]”
“[Fiiine. Good night, Graham.]”
“[Good night, Timse. Sweet dreams.]”
I watched silently as Dluom tucked Timse in, also wishing her a good night. It amazed me that somehow, as a result of understanding and kindness, a Ganac would be fostered by a Jalpt and a Terran. Once upon a time, our species wouldn’t have even known of each other. Yet thanks to Untosi interference, we were all here, for better or worse. I could only do the best I could to ensure it was the better.
“[You seem tired,]” Dluom noted once we’d left the room and closed the door. “[How did the talks go?]”
I sighed, and went to retrieve my dinner before it went cold again. “[They were a failure. The Untosi didn’t accept our terms.]”
“[So, what does that mean for you Terrans?]”
“[It means there’s nothing stopping the Untosi from attacking us once they’re finished with the Dalir.]” I explained bluntly, as I sat down at the table.
Dluom was solemnly quiet for a moment as she considered the implications, and sat down next to me with an even more concerned look. “[Surely you don’t mean that.]”
“[If history repeats itself, it’s possible. They’ve enslaved all the other races they met. They’re fighting the Dalir as we speak, despite once being on neutral terms. Sure, we’ve done better than others to placate them with trade, but we may only be buying time.]”
“[And what about my people? The other slaves?]”
I couldn’t look her in the eye. I certainly couldn’t face the slave brand on her forehead. Her fur would never regrow there, forever marking her as what she once was. “[The Untosi refused to improve your living conditions. Now there’s talk that since it might be impossible to get them to agree to it, we might stop pushing for it.]”
“[You wouldn’t do that, would you?]” Dluom asked, a hurt look in her eyes.
“[I won’t,]” I promised her. “[I’ll do everything I can, even if some of the others don’t agree.]”
The Jalpt beside me nodded gratefully. “[Thank you. My people won’t forget all that yours has done already.]” Something to remind the other diplomats of, I figured.
Once I’d finished eating, I left my dirty dishes to be cleaned tomorrow. With my last bouts of strength, I helped Dluom unfold the sofa bed and put the blankets down. For a time, we lay back-to-back as we always did, not talking. My mind was running scenario after scenario, trying to figure out how we could at least buy time from the Untosi. Easier said than done, if I wanted to help the slaves as well.
“[Dluom?]” I whispered. A hum came in reply. “[Are you worried about what might happen?]”
“[A little,]” she admitted. “[But it’s too soon to admit defeat. Your people might end up having what it takes to keep the Untosi in check. That, and if what I hear about the Dalir readying their secret weapons is true…]”
I’d heard the stories as well. Even if it wasn’t true, it was comforting to hear that she hadn’t given up faith yet. “[We can only hope so.]”
Dluom rolled over, and shifted closer to me. She laid her arm over my waist, with her hand resting gently on my stomach. “[Besides, we’ll always have each other, and Timse. Don’t forget that.]”
After a few moments, I put my hand atop hers. “[I won’t. You two mean everything to me.]”
There was never any doubt in my mind that I had to do something to help those oppressed by the Untosi, and I wasn’t about to stop. I could tone down our demands further, but then suggest we redouble our aid efforts. I could suggest subsidies or exclusive contracts for Untosi employers that treated their slaves well. There were options we could take without jeopardizing the negotiations. Maybe, just maybe, I could help pull it off.
I had people I cared about, after all. I couldn’t leave them.