Almost every other species operates the same way. An enemy is discovered, fought against, and defeated. Once the enemy is defeated they are utterly destroyed. They cannot be trusted to remain allies or non-belligerents. Once the former enemy thinks they have the upper hand they will seek to crush the formerly victorious species.
It has played out time and time again across the cosmos. The defeated enemy is utterly destroyed.
Some species might keep the defeated as slaves or a food source, but that would be the most a defeated enemy could hope for.
The Lanaktallan kept the defeated as slaves.
The Mantid ate them.
The Devastators destroyed them.
On and on it went, for billions of years across the cosmos. Evolution, advancement, discovery, violence, and defeat. The choices were: destruction, slave, food source.
Then came the abberration.
"I defeat my enemy by making him my friend."
What held true to that simple statement was not a nation of pacifists nor a weak species. While it lacked the warrior subspecies of the majority of successful species, it had other advantages.
It was stated by a race of mammals that had honed their capacity for violence against one another. Rather than back away in horror or state 'yes, that is a good amount of violence', this species ramped it up time and time again.
When they arrived on the galactic scene everything changed.
The lessons they taught were terrible. Often taught in fire and blood.
Most of all, they were willing to totally destroy and enemy. To planet crack and sun shatter an enemy.
To go even further.
They were eventually beaten by an enemy that most thought could not be beaten.
Their own hubris.
But they are still out there. Hidden away. Trapped by their own pride.
When they emerge, we will all know. - Excerpt from A History of Violence - War in the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Spur, New Mantid Press, 46,871 Post Glassing, 36,124 Post-TXE
We remember our friends.
We also remember our enemies.
Usually, they're the same people just depending on the day. - Largo McQuong, TerraSol Ambassador, 128 PG
If you don't understand the lengths I will go to for a friend you cannot possibly comprehend the lengths I will go to against an enemy. - John Jon Johnston Johnstone Jonathon Johansson, TerraSol Diplomatic Services, 6371 PG
The Most High (In Repose) Yu'umo'o clopped into his office, startled to see a flashing light on top of his monitor. It was blue, which meant it had gone through the ansible system, and flashed three times before pausing, which meant it was a text message.
He sat down and opened the message, ignoring the six hundred seventy three other message.
FROM: His Most Excellent and Superior to You Ba'ahnya'ahd
TO: That Most Excellent and Subtle Plotter Yu'umo'o
SUBJECT: Task for you
Yu'umo'o read it over then nodded.
He could handle it.
It was just a simple kidnapping. Standard Hamburger Kingdom politics.
And Ba'ahnya'ad would have to acknowledge that Yu'umo'o was the best when it came to kidnappings, just like he had to admit Yu'umo'o was the best electioneering officer the Lanaktallan espionage services had ever seen!
He rubbed all four hands together gleefully.
An extraction off of Telkan-2?
Easy as getting Ba'ahnya'ahrd elected.
0-0-0-0-0
She stepped out of the transit tube and into the brightly lit terminal. Beings of all types hurried here and there or stood and stared. She held tight to her two daughter's hands, her nerves still feeling slightly raw.
She, and her two daughters, had gone through detox.
She looked over at the other ones with her. One set were friends of her son. The other were complete unknown. Upper caste, the broodcarriers looking around with wide eyes.
An insect the size of a large ground vehicle moved forward, a black suit covering their upper body, their lower abdomen, complete with a black cape and black hat. They looked official to her and she recoiled slightly.
"Madame Da'arsis? Madame Le'esessuis?" the huge insect asked.
Both her and the other female nodded.
"The Mer'calcu'ut family?"
The other group nodded.
"Excellent. If you'll come with me," the insect said. Its shoes clicked as it turned in place.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A gold insect that came up to her mid-chest scurried forward.
"I am Seeks Reconciliation, temporarily on loan from the Solarian Dominion Diplomatic Services," the insect said. "I have already verified your identities via my implant."
With that the gold insect moved up to next to the huge one.
She followed, flinching at loud noises.
Twice they passed obvious secmen and she tried to make herself small.
Sobriety was a new thing and with sobriety came the harsh knowledge of the things she had done in pursuit of her next high and the things she had said, done, and had not done while she was high.
The place where the cybernetic implant had been placed in her leg, along her femoral artery, throbbed slightly. A blood filter, specially designed for her species, specially tuned for her.
Even if she had some glitterdust it wouldn't do any good. The implant would filter it out. If she tried to remove the filter she'd be lacking three inches of artery and would bleed out in seconds.
She had been informed these facts by a huge lizard with muscles on their muscles when she had slowly woken up.
The last thing she remembered was sitting down with her daughters and passing the glitterdust sniffer around the little circle.
The next thing she knew she was on a spaceship in the medbay, the same as her daughters.
She had been forced to sober up. Not that it hurt. She was miraculously past the physical part of the addiction.
She had spent time with a large russet insect and a three legged blue fuzzy creature, as well as a large insect like the one guiding her.
All three were 'spirit healers' and worked to ease the psychological addiction as well as coming to grips with the guilt, the misery, and the other emotional affects of long term drug abuse.
She was ashamed to admit she had been high for almost ten years. That an entire decade was fuzzed, damaged, or just not there in her memories.
The memories that were there were terrible.
Of her son shaking her, crying, begging her to get up and cook. Of staring at him, stoned out of her gourd, as one of his friends put meditape on his face from where the lawsec had kicked his face in. Again. Of her screaming at her son he was holding out on her. Of tearing apart the apartment to look for more drugs.
Of turning her girls out, teaching them to sell their bodies for the next high just like she did. To make the shame and humiliation of selling themselves go away with just one more hit of whatever was available, cheap, and would do the trick.
Two weeks was a 'good start' according to the spirit healers. They told her she would need months more, but right now, she could be trusted.
She had made up with her daughters, holding onto them in a universe that had gone mad.
The movement through the terminal had the groups splitting up. The well-to-do family with the broodcarriers split off first, then the other Telkana with her daughters.
She held tight to her own daughter's hands as they left the terminal and got into the sedan that sat there bobbing slightly on its anti-grav pads. The big insect, the Treana'ad, got into the driver's seat and once everyone was situated he smoothly pulled out and joined traffic.
"Does he know I'm coming?" she asked the russet mantid.
The russet shook her head. "No."
She lowered her head, staring at her hands. "He must hate me."
The russet shook her head. "No. I've worked with him these past three days," the mantid looked out the window for a second. "He fears you will hate him and be disgusted by him when you eventually see him."
Still staring at her hands she shook her head. "No. Anything bad about him is because I failed as his mother."
The russet reached out and patted her knee. "What did we learn about blaming ourselves for everything?"
"To only hold ourselves accountable for our own words and actions," she said softly.
"He'll still love you, mommy. We still love you," one of her daughters said.
She just nodded.
"You'll see. He'll still love you," her other daughter said, squeezing gently.
The sedan swept into rain, which tapped strong fingers on the roof and windows. The grav-pods snarled and hissed.
"Are they going to break?" one of her daughters asked.
The mantid shook her head. "No. Like most mechanical things on Terra it was designed to make noise."
"Why?" her other daughter asked.
"So you know it works," the mantid said, as if that explained everything.
Maybe it did.
They sat in silence as the sedan moved through the rain. Lightning flickered and thunder rolled, but the russet mantid didn't seem bothered by such out of control weather. It finally pulled off in front of a lavish looking hotel. The outside was all black marble shot through with thick veins of gold as wide as her hand.
The Treana'ad driver got out, opening two umbrellas, and moved around to the sidewalk side of the car. It opened the door, motioning, and stepped back.
She got out slowly, protected by the umbrella. She shifted so she could look up without obstruction, letting her eyes follow the structure up. She stared up at the roof that vanished into the rain.
"Twenty-five stories," the russet mantid said. "I was not informed you had a fear of heights."
"I lived on the one hundredth and sixty-two-teenth floor of the hab complex," she said softly.
She watched as a hovercraft vanished over the top.
"It's so beautiful," she said.
The big Treana'ad motioned. "We should go in."
She followed the big Treana'ad, who paused inside to tap water from the umbrella and put them in the stand. They got in the elevator and she watched as the russet tapped the number for ten and eight. The elevator made a creaking noise and hummed as it rose.
Terrans like to know things are working so their devices are built to make noise
The elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Her mouth went dry.
The big Treana'ad motioned. "Go ahead. I'll go put the car away. Ping me if you need anything."
The russet nodded.
She let herself and her daughters be guided out of the elevator and down the hallway. The room was 1814 and the sight of the polished brass plaque with the black numbers made her mouth go even drier. She licked her lips but it was like running a rasp across gummy rubber.
The russet knocked three times.
The being that opened the door was massive. All muscle and cybernetics, with severe facial scarring and a cybereye that glowed and angry red.
"Cortez," the russet said.
"Seeks," the massive Terran said. He moved aside. "They're in the office. Take a few moments to refresh yourself."
The russet nodded, urging her and her daughters into the room.
It was lavish, with white leather upholstery on big furniture. Black glass, warsteel, or black marble surfaces, a pane of glass with water running down it. Steps down into a large area with couches and tables. Floating lights carried by tiny robots designed to look like fairies.
It was lavish beyond her wildest dreams.
"Come with me. Let's get you a little cleaned up, all of you," the russet said.
"But he's right..." she tried to protest.
"He'll still be there when you're done," the russet said.
She followed and was surprised at what came next. A bath. A massage (which she fell asleep during). Her fur oil treated and worked over. Her claws manicured and pedicured. Her whiskers treated. Her eyes treated.
She she looked in the mirror in the new clothing, not a jumpsuit or a tunic, but actual clothing, she hardly recognized herself.
She sat for a few minutes crying at her own reflection. Crying for herself and the fact she could have been the person in the mirror years ago. Crying for her children that the Telkana in the mirror had been denied them. Crying because she hurt inside.
She cried again when she saw her daughters. They looked like they were clean again.
She cried for them and for what they had lost because of her.
The russet mantid sat with her, comforting her.
Healing her spirit.
When she was done crying, she was prettied up again.
The russet led her to the door at the far side and knocked three times.
The knock seemed to echo.
"Enter."
The voice was strong, full of authority, yet radiating kindness.
The russet opened the door.
A Lanaktallan stood in front of an open sliding glass door, one hand on the desk beside him, one hand holding a snifter of brandy. He was dressed opulently and formally. The wind from the balcony stirred the white wig on his head that had locks that tumbled down his back.
"Madame Da'arsis, Senator," the mantid said, gesturing at her.
"Thank you, Seeks," the Lanaktallan said formally.
Feeling her stomach clench she turned with her daughters, holding tightly to their hands.
A Telkani stood up from the comfortable chair, dropping the bottle he had held in his hand.
Again, it struck her how large he was.
"Momma?" Wrixet asked.