The door within the Mothership opened on its own accord swiftly and silently. The ambassador unit’s speaker straightened in his armchair. The window before him overlooking the planet, his gaze was focused intently on the Griffin islands often hidden at the corner of the sight, obscured by the drifting ocean clouds. The sudden arrival broke him out of his reverie.
“Straight from the briefing. Another success, they say,” stated the advisor.
“Which one this time? Poison?” the speaker asked.
“Oh, the poison, of course. We don’t really use blades these days, shock neither. I believe our fellow aliens can scan the brain synapses quite efficiently.” He seated himself on an armchair prepared for him next to the speaker’s.
“How many?” The speaker’s gaze never turned away from the unusual spectacle of the planet’s stillness.
“Considering the work of every one of them, I believe it was the last one. Eleven Griffin officials of their Council, all assassinated and replaced with ours. We’re done, there’ve been maybe ten of them with actual power overall.”
“Have you noticed what the Fleet Intelligence has been doing?”
The advisor’s gaze regarded the speaker with curiosity. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, first, we have sent out psychologists to add alterations to their science. Now their psychology relies on our principles. We have successfully indoctrinated their mental health care.”
The advisor nodded. “We have freely given them our knowledge and understanding. That is something I don’t quite agree with, you’re right. They should’ve paid with metal at least, iron if not gold.”
“What about the mission our officer just came from? Isn’t the removal the king’s opposition not essentially immoral?”
The advisor chuckled nervously, the question had caught him off guard. “Immoral?” He sighed and then smiled good-naturedly. “I shall play it up to your youth, I suppose. You see, how could we help the Griffins otherwise? You know very well that this was our very last solution, and we used it only as that. We’ve tried running elections for better leaders, convincing the elder, even, to furthest extent, capturing and beating it into their heads that what they’re doing is wrong.”
“The propaganda–“
“Peace propaganda? Or perhaps the environment protection propaganda?”
“The anti-family one.”
“Well, we did have to stop the Griffins from multiplying, so they wouldn’t feel the need to capture colonies to accommodate their overwhelming numbers. And we’re succeeding. The Griffins can live without five kids in every house if actually ninety percent of them survives to the adulthood without being culled by preventable diseases.”
“The problem is, among other things, that we’re not succeeding. The families just don’t register their kids to the government as they’re born. It simply creates an enormous chaos instead of decreasing their population. And our health care just helps with it. There’s actually more Griffins than there were before our arrival.”
The advisor remained silent and surprised, which seemed a sign for the speaker to continue. “Now, mind you, these aren’t the Griffins of the older times. Their children aren’t registered, aren’t supported by the country, they don’t have the money for the psychologist. They don’t think they need one. Our figures regard mostly the higher class, but it’s the lower class that is capable of an actual revolt.”
The advisor chuckled. “Oh, so that’s what the reports have been leading up to. We’re on a brink of a civil war! How wonderful!”
“What reports?!” The speaker asked, surprised.
“They’re working on diversion. We had some of our convoys assaulted, to measly results, of course. The pilots noted they ‘accidentally crushed some birds.’ A few times. Apparently these were not birds. There were some demonstrations too. And by demonstrations I mean explosions, sabotage and smaller revolts.”
“Why am I the last to know of this?!” said the speaker in a raised voice and stood up. He paced back and forth behind the armchairs when the advisor relaxed patiently in one of them. “This could have dire circumstances! What if a war breaks out?! There’d be thousands if not millions of lives lost!”
“On whose side? They’ll surrender as fast as they notice they aren’t able to even remotely face our engineering,” the advisor assured with a slight smile on his lips.
“What if they don’t?! How can you be so calm?!”
“Well, if they don’t, we’ll have a few sapient specimen less, won’t we?”
The speaker groaned. “Do you think our engineering has the power to match them? Let me debrief you on what the Inhibitor does. It affects solely the brain, tampers its ability to fluctuate the psychic field. It doesn’t stop the fluctuations. So if someone throws something at us before we put up a shield, we die. If they make a shield against the inhibitor, which is quite as possible, we die twice as much. We have no idea on how the psychic field actually works."
The advisor stared at the speaker, eyes aghast. “How do you know that?”
“I spoke to Fleet Intelligence on a private channel today. They didn’t want to rise panic, but they want the Ambassador to know. Just so we actually understand what’s the stake in eventual negotiations.”
The advisor slumped down in his chair, completely resigned, staring dumbly at the planet ahead. “At least the war isn’t up yet. There’s yet time to take countermeasures, to slow down our advance and rethink our strategy on what we’re doing down there. Even though the time is somewhat scarce—”
“Group one taking fire. Prepare weapon systems. All units on high alert.”
A missile of pure, unhindered light bathed the skies in milk white glow as it flew straight at the patrolling units, still unheedful of it. It impacted one of the ships and burst into an enormous, insanely bright sphere, seemingly a new star on the horizons above Griffin lands. It threw away all of the ships and heavily damaged the one it impacted.
“Group one reporting. Under fire!”
“Group one, switch to evasive manoeuvres. Identify the target. Damaged strike craft, return for repairs,” came the response of Fleet Command.
“Understood. Full power to the engines. Scanning the terrain.”
The cameras scanned the suburban districts thoroughly, picking up meek signs of movement. Upon focusing, the strong zoom pointed at a group of Griffins on top of a building, scrambling into a vent to hide from the prying glass eyes.
“Organised enemy diversion noted. Sending in the–”
Another explosion lit the skies.
“Strike craft down! I repeat, strike craft down! It was hit and fell down on a rural area.”
‘Clash’ Corvette class starship down.
It must be recovered before enemy units manage to scan its schematics.
“Group one, full power to the engines,” ordered Fleet Command. “Move in a hard to predict path over the area and scan it.” A microphone cracked in the shot starship. “Corvette Clash, can you hear me? Clash, if there’s anyone alive on board, respond.”
There was no visual signal from the starship, but a remote radio cracked back toward the Mothership. “This is Corvette ‘Clash.’ We’re down, the systems don’t respond, but the ship isn’t in danger of exploding. Three out of four pilots down. There’s some kind of light coming from without the sh– it’s... gone? ”
“Lock the ship manually and don’t leave the area. Utilize anything you find as weaponry if needed. We’re coming for you.”
“Understood.”
“Group five, respond.”
“Group five ready.”
“Group five, move to the crash site. Your light turrets will be needed for the living targets, should we encounter them. Fire at anything moving on top of buildings or taking interest in you. Risk hitting civilians if you must, but protect the downed corvette. Do not get hit under any circumstances.”
“Understood. Group five moving. Evasive tactics on, full thrust.”
“Inhibitor one, respond.”
“’Abolition’ class Inhibitor ready.”
“Move to the crash site. Turn the power down to the systematic-unicorn-magic-inhibition level, turn it on once you arrive and keep it up for as long as you can over the crash site.”
“Understood. Inhibitor moving, power adjustment is being prepared.”
Ambassador unit’s intervention in the local government required.
“Ambassador, report.”
“Ambassador reporting. In our ship,” said the speaker. His voice was shaky.
“Fly to the Griffin capital. Two Multigun Corvettes will escort you.”
“What permissions do we require for the action?”
“We need the permission to move our ground forces on the Griffin territory for now, and to have them stay permanently if possible. We will pay the reparations for any damage caused, but have the king allow us to proceed.”
“Understood. Moving out.”
“Carrier one, report.”
“First carrier reporting. We have the men equipped and suited.”
“Move to the crash site and secure the crashed ship. Use all the soldiers if needed and kill everyone who as much as breathes at the ship. Take two Fighter wings for escort, a salvage corvette and a resource collector. Find every single piece of it. Not even our materials can fall into the hands of the enemy.”
“Understood. Group three and four with me.”
The carrier slowly strode toward the planet, two formations of agile Fighters joined it, more for the power of impact and sheer number, than actual protection.
“Perhaps it could’ve been more efficient to simply have the soldiers be sent in light corvettes,” commented Fleet Command.
While it is a faster solution for the time being, more units can be transported in the Carrier.
An open conflict might start and every sapient resource will be needed on the planet then.
Fleet Command remained silent.