Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 22/?] (Patreon)

This revelation hit me like a freight train. It wasn’t so much that I hadn’t expected the Interlopers to have utilized such tactics, and it certainly wasn’t the fact that I hadn’t anticipated this outcome having just seen my kind’s complicit involvement during our past few previous encounters… it was simply the fact that I was now hearing the confirmation of those anxieties with my very own ears. The fact that my species, my civilization, was now somehow inextricably involved with what was perhaps one of the greatest wars against their own will sickened me. What’s more, the ramifications of such a mass-mobilization of my species shook me to my core. If the Interlopers had recruited the Vanaran people, then what became of our civilization?

Had we just become mindless thralls overnight? Or had they convinced our leadership and forced this war upon us whilst preserving a flimsy facade of what we once were? A part of me wished for the latter, because the former was just too painful to bear.

Regardless, the truth would come soon enough as the Captain continued his speech. “We weren’t expecting this. We understood at the time that the Vuarks were the definitive cause of the hibernation question, that it acted as a simple on and off switch of sorts. One that responded to Interloper bio-signalling in order to initiate the arbitrary cycles of hibernation present throughout every species in the local cluster except for the species of Earth. There were additional theories however, many of which could be traced to the research and studies conducted on the hibernation conduits. Namely: that the Vuark was more than just a simple on-off-mechanism. They posited that the Vuark was capable of far more advanced neurological manipulation, including the overriding of executive centers of the brain and potentially even a complete supplantation of independent neurological processes to create a sort of… bio-drone. These theories were, however, rejected.” The Captain took a moment to catch his breath, his tone shifting to a far guiltier, dour one. “We lost a lot of data in the ensuing conflict and the war, so it’s not exactly clear as to why we didn’t go further into this. From what we can gather from that period in time however, the primary reason why we refused to corroborate these claims, comes down to a lack of will. The fact of the matter was, we didn’t wish to pursue the borderline ethically questionable experiments that would inevitably involve the activation and fine manipulation of a sapient Vuark-containing subject. We’d be stepping deeper into not just uninformed consent, but a complete violation of sapient autonomy and conscious autonomy. It was a particularly hot topic as well at the time, given the recent AI-driven civil war. In addition to all of this, we were no longer in an active large-scale war with the Interlopers. We no longer had the pressing concern of imminent destruction hanging over our heads to justify the morally questionable actions of engaging in deeper invasive research into the Vuark. As a result, we decided to leave the matter alone, and the plan was to simply pick up where we left off once the Interlopers were dealt with and the rest of the local cluster woke up.”

There was a long pause, as the Captain took a moment to catch his breath. Vir, meanwhile, looked on in a sense of petrified dread, as he gave the man time to breathe. “Captain I apologize if this topic is particularly sensitive-”

“No. You need to know what happened, son. There’s no way you’ll understand just how valuable the knowledge you possess is, if you don’t see the full picture.” The Captain interjected, as he prepared to continue, settling in for the long story ahead. “As I mentioned previously, we didn’t expect the Interlopers to have attacked us in the way that they did. You have to understand that by this point they were just a ragtag group of disparate warlords with little in the way of a central command structure. Heck, they were even bickering amongst themselves at this point. UN Central Command considered them a threat, but a threat in the same way as a rabid dog would be in front of a tank. We could roll over them at any time, but we were just out of gas from the civil war between us and our AI. Besides, they just couldn’t pose a threat, not even when united. So the policy at the time was just… systematic, targeted strikes. Clean cleaves into each known warlord until they eventually all fell. It would take a few more centuries to root them out too, given how many had gone into hiding.” He cleared his throat, readying himself for the most worrying part of the explanation. “That was why we never expected what came next. They struck without warning. A united front of not just Interlopers, but all Vuark-containing species. Entire civilizations woke up, and mobilized every bit of leftover war materiel they had. This wouldn’t be a problem if it was say, just the Vanarans, or any other single species. Again, the entirety of the Vanaran civilization at its height posed little threat to the United Nations. However, when you multiply that by a factor of tens of thousands, then we get into a situation where we simply didn’t have enough bullets to hold off the walls of ships and bodies.” The Captain’s voice broke, but he continued regardless. “The thing is, we could’ve still won. We had the superweapons to wipe out entire swaths of ships. But we knew what we were facing. The Interlopers made it very clear to us that these species were being forced against their wills to wage this war. They made it abundantly clear that each Vanaran we killed was a mind locked behind layers upon layers of bio-signalling and control. That meant that we were killing innocents. That meant we were on the path to destroying entire innocent civilizations. They… they effectively created an army of hostages, and forced us to fight them. I… I’ll spare you from the finer details of this war. But suffice it to say, we did not lose, but we didn’t necessarily win either, no matter what the Ascendancy wants to believe.”

An image was promptly sent over the transmission, detailing two emblems diverging from the old UN logo I’d come to know over my days aboard the ship.

“A peace was brokered. A peace made out of guilt over the innocent blood spilled over the course of the war, and one that was forged out of a desire to spare the countless sapient civilizations from destruction by our hands. The Interlopers, for all intents and purposes, lost. They’re now relegated to a handful of galaxies, but because they held so many species in effectively a hostage situation, they had bargaining power. This prevented their destruction. But it also led to the end of the UN as we knew it. You see, not all of us saw eye to eye with this decision. Two factions emerged from this reluctant peace, one that would spiral deeper and deeper into guilt and self loathing, and the other which wished to answer for the sins we had inflicted. The former, later became the United Ascendancy, which amounts to most of the human and AI population now living harmoniously within the Milky Way and other core galaxies. They live nearly-virtually now, focused on expanding their scientific and cultural endeavors, pushing ever inwards, in an attempt to forget the past. The latter has kept the name that now bears the scars of our sins, the United Nations of Earth and Luna. We keep the flame alight, and our purpose is to bring an end to the Interlopers, once and for all.”

The Captain’s tone started to shift however, as a certain levity could be heard behind it, rising with each word that followed. “Legally speaking, we never agreed to a peace treaty, merely the cease-fire that came before it. The United Nations, thusly, has always been at war with the Interlopers. We’ve been in a constant state of war, punctuated just by this ceasefire, for the past hundred or so thousand years. And with your help, son, we could finally bring an end to this charade.”

My whole world shattered. There was nothing left of it as I realized that the universe I’d known wasn’t just lost to time, it was utterly buried and left to rot. What was left was a husk that had little in the way of hope… if it wasn’t for the humans who refused to give up, who refused to give in. My heart tore into two when the mention of the Ascendancy’s depressive spiral was explained, but it also began welling up at the hope that the remnants of the United Nations had so fervently reaffirmed at the tail-end of that speech.

It was clear that whatever humanity had done, whatever they had become, there would always be that spirit of righteous humanity Elijah had once demonstrated to me. That unlike Vanaran society, or even this Ascendancy’s institutional self-loathing, humanity at its core, will always persevere. Even after all this time…

I stepped forward towards Vir, placing my hand on the console as I prevented him from replying just yet.

“Lysara?” He cocked his head at me curiously, as I offered him a warm, soft curling of my lips, bearing my teeth just a little bit in an attempt at a human faux-smile.

“I think it’s my turn to talk to them.” I spoke cautiously.

“Are you sure? This is… Lysara I understand if there’s some raw emotion going on here, but it wouldn’t be wise to just rant at the man or just air out your feelings right now given how we’re still in a pretty precarious spot.”

“I’m not going to yell at him or anything of the sort, Vir.” I explained. “I think it’s time we finally talked, and discuss just how we’re to step forward. I think it’s time the United Nations had its first open dialogue with a Vanaran, after a hundred thousand years of radio silence.”

Vir stared at me for a good while, his hand firmly on the console as he seemed to consider my words carefully. Whether it was my convincing explanation or as a result of our collective experiences up to this point, the AI relented, nodding at me, and returning my smile without question. “Alright. I trust you here, Lysara. Go for it.”

“Captain Norman Veers, this is Lysara Ta El Parfun Daenir, of the Daenari clan, I am a Vanaran… perhaps the only free Vanaran if your stories are to be believed.” I announced over the comline. “It is clear there is much for our two parties to discuss. Though given the extreme nature of preceding events, I would be more than willing to submit any and all medical reports from our ship to you, as a gesture of good will.” This prompted Vir to shoot me a glance of confusion and worry.

“Lysara are you sure-” Vir whispered, but was unable to get anything across as I continued without pause.

“Captain you must understand that I do this only because I trust that your claims hold weight. I am doing this because the last human I met saved me from not just an assured death, but had freed me from the corrupting influence of this… this ancillary appendage that keeps my species shackled. If humanity is capable of doing that, with no strings attached, then I wish to proceed with talks with the same humanity who wishes to see the legacy of Elijah through.”

I turned towards Vir, who reluctantly sent the files over, prompting yet another bout of silence from the other ship who was clearly combing through the data as the seconds ticked by. This silence however, was interrupted by another soft ping, and a voice which now spoke with a clear overtone of excitement and hope that simply wasn’t present before.

“You’re the first Vanaran I’ve ever had the privilege of talking to, son. You’re doing me quite an honor to be the first human in hundreds of thousands of years to be conducting first contact. With every species having been asleep since the dawn of our civilization, we’ve never actually had the opportunity to talk to anyone else aside from ourselves and our creations.” Vir sighed at that latter statement and shrugged half-heartedly. “The only logged contact between humanity and an alien species was a hundred or so thousand years ago on one of those Hibernation Conduits. So… Lysara Ta El Parfun Daenir of the Daenari clan, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and it’ll be a pleasure to have you on board in our fight against the Interloper menace. Today is truly a historic day. A day which will be remembered for millennia to come.”