"Meeting a Monster"

[OdileCondacin 0]

Odile Condacin, professional snoop, gossip queen, and scientific

investigator, went boldly forth into the Brig, glancing at the on-duty

guard. "Here only in the name of science. I promise I won't attack our

pet Selshan," she assured.

 

The guard looked at her dubiously, particularly at the knife, but waved

her on. "Forcefield stays on," he stipulated.

 

"That's fine," Odile agreed, choosing not to mention that yes, she WAS

certified with the dagger, and promptly stomped past, towards the cell.

 

"Good morning," she greeted with a false cheerfulness. "You must be

Noleph. I'm Odile."

 

He looked up at her, eyes dark. "Is that supposed to mean something to

me?"

 

"It means," her usual snappishness sneaking into her voice, "that I'm in

a good mood and being polite. It also means that I have a few questions

for you."

 

"More questions." He sat up on the bunk, carefully stretching his long

limbs. "Your people certainly ask a lot of them. What is it you want

to know this time?"

 

"Forgive me. I haven't followed all the interrogations thus far, and I

might double up what we've already asked you. So you, if I have this

correct, are a rebellious man who's turned to your people's enemy to...

do what exactly? Or is 'treason' a pastime for your kind?"

 

"Hardly," he replied contemptuously, his skin flushing a slightly darker

lilac. "I have no especial love of the Featherbrains. Even now, having

spent so much time among them... I do not love them. They are, and

always will be, the Enemy."

 

"Then why ally yourself? Is it worth betraying the rest of the Selshan

for your own agenda?"

 

"My agenda is the rest of the Selshan," Noleph replied heatedly. He

stood up; his head almost brushed the cell's ceiling. Pacing in the

tiny cell, he said, "You do not understand what Shel'shaala is like,

Federationer. They have stifled us completely; we stagnate. Our race

will die if left like this -- no race can survive such complete,

unchanging stability."

 

"So it's your job to light the explosions that'll unsettle your social

structure? That hardly seems... loyal."

 

"You sound like them." Snorting contemptuously, he stopped pacing long

enough to fix her with a disgusted glare.

 

Odile stroked the hilt of her dagger in thought. "Them? Military?

Government officials? Peace-lovers?"

 

"Our government. They would say I and others like me want to disrupt

and destroy the entire fabric of society: tear down the halls of

government, destroy all social authorities -- even to enticing children

to disobey their parents. Such is the portrait they paint of us."

 

"You willingly killed members of your own species, lied to your allies

of the moment, and, again, seem quite the traitor. I can't say I blame

them. Are they cruel? Do they act as tyrants -- do your people have

enough to eat?"

 

"Tyrants? Oh, yes." Noleph came to the forcefield, leaning against the

edge of the cell's 'doorway.' "As for killing them... there are over

1 billion counts of assault on my record. Since they already count me a

criminal, I thought it was time I did something to deserve the label."

 

"How progressive and... considerate," the Xenexian remarked

sarcastically.

 

"Why do you care?" he replied. "You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

 

"Because, Noleph," she replied condescendingly, "it's not our way to

kill without need. Unlike yours."

 

His face darkened. "Do you think I wanted this? We are not -- by

nature -- social revolutionaries. We wanted peace, and fair dealings

with other races. If we call for revolution, it is only because we can

find no other path!"

 

"You could fool bystanders like us."

 

"You do not understand," he said again. "If you knew Shel'shaala..."

 

"Make me understand, then."

 

He began to pace again, restlessly. "Shel'shaala... On Shel'shaala,

if you not one of our few great leaders, you are nothing. And you

cannot become such a leader except through rising in the military, for

the 'civic duty' and 'sacrifice' is much-planted in our psyche. Even

what few matters are put to a vote are restricted to military personnel;

theres is no enfranchisement for the rest of us."

 

"I see. A war-machine, then?"

 

"Very much so," he agreed. "To put all power in the hands of those who

make war is to invite war. And so it has gone for many generations...

and as we found out when we began exploring space, we are a long-lived

people. On average, we may expect to see some two hundred orbits; many

live longer still. For the most part, people are content, even though we

seem to be perpetually at war. We have order at home, and who would say

that order is not good? It was difficult for many of us in the movement

to see that our society must change, if our goals are to be

accomplished."

 

"What goals?"

 

"All we want," he said softly, sadly, "is a voice in our own destiny."

 

Odile sighed. "I can't blame you. I really can't. But... killing your

kind isn't the way. Can't you see that? Desperate times call for

desperate measures, I know, but still..."

 

Noleph nodded, but his face was grim. "Nothing else has worked," he

pointed out. "Nothing else has gotten their attention. They slap us

down like biting flies. They charge us with treason -- and, on

Shel'shaala, treason is the highest crime among us, worse than murder or

rape or any other violent crime. Those crimes have one victim. Treason

is counted as a crime against every being in the Imperium. And for

what? For speaking!"

 

"Surely there are enough they cannot silence all of you..."

 

He sighed. "We are a people who love Order," he said. "The threat of

being labeled an agent of Chaos is enough to silence many. Those who do

speak often flee -- as I was forced to."

 

"A shame." Odile shook her head, slowly. "But I don't know there's much

we can do."

 

"Your situation seems... one that could arguably be approached from

another direction. And after you yourself betrayed us... I fear you've

lost a potential ally with my comrades."

 

He shrugged. "I felt it necessary. Perhaps all the Chaos among the

Featherbrains has infected me." Noleph's voice trailed off, then

resumed with a distant quality, as though speaking to himself. "The

whole time I was there, it made me itch to be amongst murderers. But

there -- perhaps we aren't so different, after all."

 

"I..." O'd'yl shook her head. "I don't think I understand."

 

Shaking himself from his reverie, he looked at her with a wry amusement.

"Which part?"

 

"... you noted murderous tendencies at some point?"

 

"Among the Featherbrains?"

 

"They do... squawk..." Odile admitted, smirking. "Enough to drive one

batty, after time?"

 

He gave her another of those wry smiles. "It wasn't that. To be among

beasts that had destroyed worlds of my people..."

 

"I can only imagine. They must be monsters to you, no?"

 

"Monsters, yes -- a good word," he agreed. "The Umbara are ruthless.

They own a vast empire, larger than the Imperium, and they are bent on

destroying us, for we opposed their rule. Already they have wiped out

several worlds in the Imperium, destroying every sentient being and

leaving the planets to the animals. Well, small wonder, being animals

themselves -- they are merciless. Watch how you deal with them. Brutal

and unforgiving, they revenge every slight a hundredfold and think only

of their own power."

 

"And how do they describe you?"

 

Noleph chuckled. "Probably much the same," he said, "but my people

prefer to remold worlds rather than destroy them."

 

"Remold?" asked Odile, with a sharp look in her eyes. "What do you mean,

'remold'?"

 

With some surprise, he looked at her. "When our forces conquer a

world," he said, "the population is always converted. The war machine

must have its cannon fodder, after all."

 

"Converted." Odile pursed her lips. "And by converted you mean a change

in thoughts and ideas?"

 

"I mean a change in themselves -- have you not seen it yet?" Clearly

shocked, he drifted back towards the forcefield. "You must have. It is

half the reason our movement has gained force at all; many of us do not

even object to the conquest of other worlds, but only of the conversion.

It seems... distasteful, to take from people their very being."

 

"The Soltan?" Odile's face darkened. "What do you know about them?"

 

His jaw hung slack as he stared at her. "They are the agents of the

Imperium's power," he said finally, recovering himself. "They fight --

and die -- for the Imperium, and there are always more to be thown into

the battle. That fleet, out there -- " He jerked his chin toward the

bulkhead, indicating the warzone beyond the hull. "You do not know how

strange it is, to see a fleet entirely of our own ships. Nor will it

remain so for long; they will already by deciding where to call Soltans

from, to take over the battle. My people fight well enough, and I would

not -- precisely -- call them cowards, but on the whole they prefer to

let someone else risk

battle. With an unlimited supply of Soltans to exploit, they do not

need to."

 

"They're your slaves, then?" Comprehension was starting to show the

first rays of dawning. "Your worker class, so to speak?"

 

"Fighter class, to be more accurate," he said. "But slaves is close to

correct, if slaves can ever be happy in their service."

 

"They don't resist you themselves?"

 

"Oh, no," he replied. "Loyal, that race. A perfect match to us,

really -- enamored of authority and order. Because we have set

ourselves as their authorities, they will never question us."

 

"Fascinating," Condacin murmured. "How long have you been allied?"

 

"Oh, many generations," Noleph replied. "They were one of the first

races we encountered after developing spaceflight. That was... a little

more than three thousand orbits ago."

 

"I see..." Odile made a few mental notes, and took a step back. "Well,

uhm..." She pointed vaguely towards the way she'd entered. "I need to go

and study and think about these things... and you have a nice day in our

brig, if you can." The Xenexian hesitated in the holding area, in

thought for a long moment.

 

Noleph gazed after her. "Not such a monster after all?" he asked her,

and went to go lie down on his too-short bunk again.

 

Golden eyes smoldered as she looked back at him, and silently, she left.