This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Nik_2213 on 2024-10-31 21:03:27+00:00.

“Minister, there is a diplomatic courier at the door: He says it is time-critical.”

Minister Ixixix (etc) looked up from again brushing another rank-sash’s many tassels on her patio, to be ready for the first Grand Parade of ‘Triumph Day’, commencing in barely an eighth of a day-cycle. Traditionally, such had to be done by the wearer.

“Species ?”

“A Terran, Minister. He has a ‘For your eyes only’ package.”

“They have yielded the Canopus Cluster ? Send him in !”

Minister Ixixix (etc) studied the courier with her central and both lateral eyes. Unlike the Terran Ambassador, who was always resplendent, this figure seem dressed in a set of dull rags. Strangely, they made him very hard to see, the fabric’s dull patterns and shades causing her focus to repeatedly slip aside.

“I am Commander Brown, Terran Alliance Military Attaché. I bear a time-sensitive message, ‘For your eyes only’.”

“Ha ! So you Terrans have finally realised the folly of thwarting our Ixarthian Supremacy ! Give it here !”

The opaque tube had a strong wax seal. She broke this, unlatched, unscrewed the lid. She slid out the scrolled document within, turned it about. The formal font took a moment to recognise, was slow to read…

"To whom it may concern: As the Ixarthian Supremacy continues to make impossible demands and fails to adhere to prior binding agreements, the Terran Alliance here-by declares that a state of war will exist between our star polities as of 00:00 Ixarthian Central Time of ‘Triumph Day’–

“What ? You Terrans have found the temerity to declare war ? Our Fleets will sweep your small, weak ships aside like a path’s fallen tree-cones !”

“Read on.”

Minister Ixixix (etc) suddenly realised this courier had a cryogenic ‘Command Voice’, was perhaps more than he appeared…

"I am being with-drawn as Terran Ambassador, the Embassy closed. Further diplomatic contact may take place via the Zinzin Legation.

"As Ixarthian authorities have repeatedly declared that humans in the Canopus Cluster are ‘vermin, unfit to live’ similar consideration may be applied to any and all Ixarthian combatants, plus their logistical and administrative support.

"May the survivors forgive you.

“By the hand of George Pemberton-Smythe, this date.”

Minister Ixixix (etc) waved the document, hissed, “This is nonsense ! Why do you Terrans even bother ?”

“Pemberton-Smythe is a good man. Hard working, honest,” Commander Brown stated. "He dedicated nearly three eights of your annuals to trying to prevent this. He thinks he’s failed. Your media and ours both deride him as a failed appeaser…

“War is hell: One of the hardest military evolutions is a fighting withdrawal.” Commander Brown gave her a look that unsettled. "One of our history’s greatest generals told his excellent subordinates, ‘Ask of me anything but time’…

“Pemberton-Smythe delayed you by two annuals beyond our best-case projections. We have used them well.” Commander Brown waved beyond the patio’s high walls, said, "Out there, the Ixarthian Prime Home Army and Home Fleet are mustering for review by your Supremacy and her First Heir.

"At Star-Base Five, her Second Heir prepares to review your Fleets One, Two and Five , along with a convoy carrying Agents, Inquisitors, Assessors and Administrators. Also, those ‘Great and Good’ who expect to claim vast estates from the Second Heir as Governor of the Canopus Cluster.

"Star-Bases One through Four have had their Fleets stripped to augment your Canopus seizure, are now minimally defended…

"Preparing for these reviews has kept each Fleet and Star-Base combing their tassels, painting pipes and burnishing binnacles, even practising close-formation drill, for more than three eights of day-cycles.

“Do you know what such combat-ineffective assemblages are called ? ‘Big Juicy Targets’.”

“Big… Juicy…”.Minister Ixixix (etc) stuttered. “TARGETS ??”

“Decapitation strike.”

“Why you, you VERMIN–”"

“Blow it.” Commander Brown spoke to the empty air. A loud bang, a billow of foul smoke split the tall street-wall from flood-lit spikes to ground. Debris tidily fell away to both sides, leaving a dark opening, easily wide enough to pass a big ground-car or ‘Ferrix’ tankette…

"Always, always, on the late eve of ‘Triumph Day’, your communication systems are swamped by well-wishing callers. To this, add a short but sufficient ‘Distributed Denial of Service’ attack.

"All you can do now, Minister, is sit here and watch the sky fall…

"For his work, Pemberton-Smythe has earned a big promotion.

“Next time you meet, abase yourself and call him ‘Governor’.” Stepping sideways into shadow, his drab garb hid Commander Brown so well, she glimpsed but the merest flicker as he left her distraught.