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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BainshieWrites on 2024-09-14 16:46:34+00:00.

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“Wait, let me see if I understand this?”

Zantari asked the question with a level of confusion, their mammalian form’s little brown floppy ears waving in a questioning motion. They weren’t quite sure exactly what kind of story they were expecting to hear from the Hatil sat in front of them, but it hadn’t been the one that had been told. 

The little cream-coloured teddy bear like Hatil diplomat was dressed in a nicely tailored navy blue suit.To the other Hatil, she looked distinguished and professional. On the other hand, any Terrans around would have considered her absolutely adorable, with a near irresistible urge to give the walking plush toy a hug. Zantari personally didn’t care what the Hatil wore, considering the Ghirlinn were a race that could now change their biology at will, with clothing as barely an afterthought…

“So, the Terrans reawakened from their stasis, and without doing any proper research, your people started a war with the explicit goal of killing every Terran you found.””

“Yes, much to our eternal shame. We ignorantly feared the rise of a new AI race.”

The Hatil were nothing special in the galaxy, hardly considered a FTL capable species. There is a flaw with the early type of FTL travel most species use, that while folding space to create a shorter path to travel through was efficient, there was nothing stopping you from appearing in the middle of something, often destroying both things.

Most species realized the danger of any idiot with a warp engine being able to reappear within the core of your home world, and quickly developed disruptors to pre-fold space within certain locales to stop such a thing from happening. The Hatil had decided upon a different strategy: aggressive isolation, and demanding all other species avoid their small patch of space. After a thousand years, nothing really changed for them on the galactic scale. Sure, governments, language, and culture shifted, but all within their unmoving territory. The only reason they hadn’t been conquered by another race was simply because nobody else wanted to risk being neighbours with an unknown AI species. 

“So then you launch a surprise attack against several outposts and their diplomatic vessel, your only victories in the war mind you, as pyrrhic as they are. The Terrans, unsurprisingly considering that their AI had been researching and upgrading their technologies over the last ten thousand years, completely trash your armies, including destroying one of your colonies.”

“Completely justifiably of course, we were the aggressors against those who just wanted friendship.”

That brought them to their next topics: among which included their technology. The station Zantari was at was a lot nicer than the Ghirlinn had expected from a Hatil maintained creation, with a far higher standard of technology than they remembered the little teddies having. 

Setting up the meeting itself had been slightly annoying, the military outpost at the edge of Terran Alliance territory being one of the few Hatil locations that didn’t have a major Terran presence. It was also a relatively new addition, proof of the Hatil’s increased power and logistics to create such a place within the last three years. Zantari was just glad that the general power of the Ghirlinn meant that most diplomats would meet them at any place of their choosing, whether that was their homeworld, or a random isolated outpost.

“So after you attempted a war of eradication against the Terrans, and lost, they…” Zantari gave a sigh as they tried to get their head around it. “Left you with full autonomy, provided aid for the war you started, shared their technology with you, and created a major galactic alliance around the pair of you, of which you are currently the second-largest military power?”

The Ghirlinn were not sore winners, as they had plenty of experience with various weaker aggressive species who had tried to take them on for various reasons of religion, culture, or just pure arrogance. Slavery or eradication was more effort than it was worth, but at the very least the Ghirlinn would take their weapons and put them under new administration. For a few generations, until they learned ‘Not to do it again’. Sadly for the Ghirlinn, the fact that so many either didn’t seem to learn or got worse in regimes afterwards didn’t seem to connect in their mind.

But the Terrans seemed to respond to the Hatil’s poorly implemented attempt at genocide with an emotion of slight annoyance, giving the Hatil aid and uplifting them to a technology level that was above average in the Galaxy.

“No no no, the army is a new thing, and not permanent. As soon as the war is over, we will be dismantling our forces again. We have only militarized to aid the Terrans.”

It was an impressive military, especially considering what Zantari had been expecting based on what they remembered of the Hatil. The fleet parked around this outpost was rather extensive: thousands of vessels, swarms of automated drones, more power than a lot of civilizations could muster. The idea that the Hatil would truly give up this power was one Zantari would have to see to believe, not that they cared that much either way. 

“That’s not my question. My question is… Why would the Terrans do that?”

It was risky, illogical and adorable in equal parts, the little Terrans giving those who tried to kill them a metaphorical pat on the head and asking them nicely not to do it again. A burning desire erupted within Zantari, to protect the bumbling primates from their own naive actions.

This was going to be a problem in the future, other Ghirlinn kidnapping Terrans to give them protection… 

“I’ll be honest, we don’t know. The Terrans had every right to destroy us for our unforgivable actions, but they chose not to. All we can do is attempt to use their mercy and forgiveness, each day proving that choice was the correct one.”

Naive or not, it seemingly had worked out for the Terrans. The Hatil were unrecognizable, their old culture, even down to their dress and names, assimilated and replaced by the Terrans. To turn an initial enemy into steadfast allies, in such a short period of time, was an impressive feat.

Zantari would never get to finish that thought however, as an alarm sounded out, the sirens causing both parties in the meeting room to look around in shock. It took only a few moments for another Hatil to burst through the doors with an aura of worry, whispering something urgently to the diplomat as the Ghirlinn looked on.

“I’m sorry, we need to cut this meeting short. I’ve been informed of an incoming Estorian fleet.  I would advise you to leave immediately, I’ll escort you to your ship.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate, we’ll have to continue this another day.”

Zantari slowly got up, taking a moment to give a large and overexaggerated stretch, a feeling of annoyance and anger being hidden behind his careful appearance. They didn’t like the Estorians. They didn’t like any of the five races, bullies and generally nasty people didn’t sit right with them at all. Unfortunately, Zantari couldn’t get involved unless certain circumstances were met, the Hatil would be left to their own defences.

Which was why Zantari was in no great rush to leave, because they had a plan.

They followed the Hatil diplomat at a slow walking pace, being escorted back through the military outpost as chaos reigned supreme around them; various Hatil sprung into action, running to and fro, getting ready whatever tasks they needed for the upcoming defence, alarms still blaring as they prepared for war.

“Um, we should pick up the pace, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt and the enemy is incoming.”

“I’m moving, we’ll get there when we get there.”

The Hatil diplomat was clearly worried and having the most professional panic attack in the universe, visions of what the repercussions would be if this diplomatic member of a technologically superior species were to be hurt, or even worse, killed. The Ghirlinn were a scary species from the outside; while nobody knew exactly what they could do, it was clear they were playing on another level. The Hatil didn’t want to be responsible for one of their citizen’s deaths.

Zantari on the other hand, wasn’t worried at all, walking along at a slow meandering pace as the Hatil lead the way with a panicked energy, painfully aware of every minute passing in this most terrifying and annoying of escort quests, turning back around to silently urge on the Ghirlinn to move a little bit faster. Not that they were planning on rushing away, just slow gradual progress to justify what was probably going to happen next.

Eventually, the pair made their way back to the small docking bay where Zantari had left their ship, a sea of moving Hatil getting ships ready and taking off with great speed. At the centre of it stood the Ghirlinn’s vessel. It was small compared with the other ships parked in the bay, a simple one-seater vessel with some dimensional trickery to make it larger on the inside than the outside. Rounded off lines made of bright cream painted metal gave it the appearance of almost being drawn, flowing lines coming together into an oblong shape and the three points of the landing gear it currently stood on.

“We…

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