Gods Dogs, Book 3

Too many problem-solving sessions become battlegrounds where decisions are made based on power rather than intelligence.

Margaret J. Wheatley

On the training mat, the five of them tossed around what seemed an impossible problem. The five empires in Andromeda didn’t know how to peacefully coexist.

At one level, it was a rank absurdity, and it took them a while to find the logic behind the fact that this social condition did exist. Racism, or specie-ism, was only overcome in real terms when one collapsed the paradox that all sentient beings were created equal and born different. Until that was a lived and embodied reality, differences implied inequality. Furthermore, as the Upanishads warned, ‘Where there is other, there is fear.’

The team had bumped into that dynamic enough times to know its intractable power. Other than the defunct Empire of Man, though, they hadn’t seen it at a macro-governmental level, mainly because racism created an unworkable system, not the least economically.

That the Andromeda system still struggled with this issue was puzzling. So much so, the team and Raina were fumbling for a way forward.

Eventually, Raina said, “It would be nice if we could just hold a seminar and show them how to fix this.”

Moss snorted. “And they’ll say, ‘Thanks, but who are you to tell us how to live?’ They would rightly see it as arrogance.”

“Maybe not,” Pax countered. “I think it would depend on our presentation.”

“We could offer a cultural exchange,” River suggested.

“Maybe,” Raina said and tilted her head to look off into space. “I can see that working, but I’ll need to talk to my department and the diplomats. We need more cultural context to determine how to present it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Quinn said and stood. “Let us know how it goes.”

They all rose and headed off to bed.

In the morning, Raina told her team what happened. The science commander ordered her to the diplomatic section, where she wasn’t actually berated for her actions. They debriefed her in a perfunctory manner, which she expected they would. So, while that was going on, Grace filed an after action report and copied in the XO of the ship.

An executive officer is not only the second-in-command, but also the person that makes sure things get done – all the little operational details. That way the captain was free for strategic planning. In other words, the captain leads; the XO manages.

Shortly after the diplomats were done with her, the XO called Raina to his office. The XO was a Silvertonae, the elf-like beings that Moss actually liked. His office was a cramped affair with a desk in the middle of the room and a comfortable chair behind it. Two other chairs faced it.

“Sit, please,” he said in a stern voice.

“Thanks you,” Raina said and sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“You’ve made unauthorized contact.”

Raina smiled, which caused the freckles across her cheeks and nose to dance. “Technically, they made contact with us.”

“You put yourself in a place where they would find you.”

“Technically, that’s what this fleet has done as well.”

The XO frowned and paused a moment. Then he slowly smiled, which revealed sharp teeth. “You and the Coyotes have given us a way forward.”

Raina smiled in return but didn’t say anything.

“Tell me about the Coyotes. The briefing I have on them is rather confusing.”

“Their spiritual training is on a par with their physical training. In Buddhist terms, they are spiritual warriors charged with protecting the rest of us.”

“And that accounts for their unpredictability.”

“Yes. They are skilled in all the realms of Creation, from the consensus reality to the undifferentiated Void. Their training is more rigorous than any other in human space. That’s why there are so few of them.”

“The Silvertonae that have worked with them speak highly of their problem-solving skills. Others, though, see them differently.”

“Unpredictable, unconventional, uncontrollable, and, most likely, lacking respect for authority and the chain of command.”

“Just so,” the XO said with a smile that broadened his mobile face. “This was their idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, it was. It was my idea to find a way to instruct the A-group on how to live peaceably with other races or species. It was they who came up with the idea of a cultural exchange.”

“What do our diplomats think of that idea?”

Raina sighed. “They didn’t say. My impression was they were shocked by it and somewhat embarrassed we engaged with the A-group in a more meaningful way than they were able to accomplish.”

“I’ll confirm your impression,” the XO relayed. “They also worry about the consequences, the out-of-channel irregularity of it, how it sets bad precedents, and so on. What do you see as the advantage it gives us?”

Raina grinned. “We’ve got nothing to lose. They want to annex us. We won’t let them. It’s a dangerous impasse. In my world, that’s when you send in a Coyote team.”

“Well,” the XO began and stood, “thank you for your input and for your creative efforts to aid our mission. You are dismissed.”

Raina left the office and headed back to the science section. Once there, since nobody wanted to talk to her, she began sorting through the data dump on the A-group’s history.

She noted the lack of technical details, but highlighted the events or claims that required technology. Ring-cities around planets were one such claim. She spent time researching how they did it.

The XO briefed the captain, a Sentic that left his shore-side command, which was preparatory for his advancement to admiral, to take this command.

He was a well-seasoned commander but more idealistic than most of the politically oriented admirals the XO knew. He liked the captain, even if he was a giant with an armor-plated body and lacking a sense of humor.

“The diplomats are upset,” the captain told him.

They were in the captain’s ready room just off the bridge.

“They have no options,” the XO countered. “The Coyotes gave them one. I think they are upset because they didn’t see this option and someone else did.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“If the A-group agrees to a cultural exchange, the diplomats will have a fair sample of Andromeda residents to engage with. That ought to make them happy.”

“What about our delegation to them?”

The elf grinned.

The Sentic stared at him. “It would never get approved.”

“Add in the lead negotiators.”

“The Silvertonae couple?”

“Our briefing says the humans work well with my people.”

“They why don’t I send you along as commander of the mission?”

“It would be an honor, but I think Commander Nomero would be better.”

“A Sentic. I don’t see it. Why him?”

“He is not authoritarian.”

“And Sentics also get along with humans.”

“In addition, I think it’s important to show the A-group how different species can work together. Apparently, they have one ruling specie running each empire, and everybody else is a second-class citizen. Watching three species interact would be a novel concept for them.”

“Very well. Set it up and we’ll propose it when we resume our talks.”

Satya flew out of the battlecruiser and flew over to the largest A-group warship and landed in a substantial docking bay.

Aboard Satya were the Silvertonae husband and wife negotiating team, mission commander Nomero, and Raina was there as the science officer. The crew was excited. The Coyote team was still laughing over the fact that the diplomats saw sending them as a form of punishment for embarrassing them.

As the Satya docked, a similar-sized craft with A-group representatives landed in the battlecruiser’s bay. This group would travel to the Milky Way with the bulk of the Congress diplomats to engage with.

The plan was for each cultural exchange team to spend time in the other’s galaxy. The hope was they would find common ground for an alliance, thus avoiding an inter-galactic war.

The more militant of the A-group eventually conceded to this plan, because they recognized the Congress wasn’t that far behind in technology. More importantly, though, the blended and harmonious culture in the Milky Way meant the A-group would oppose a united front, while their cultures could only mount a fractured resolve to somehow annex the Milky Way. These realities pushed the militants to extend the talks.

The squadrons maneuvered, then, to return to their respective galaxies. In about a year, they would meet at this location and see what was next.