The Envoy's Song
[It’s supposed to be Flash Fiction Friday, but I finished this on a Saturday. And it’s over 1,000 words long, so it’s not really “flash fiction.” Hopefully the more I write these, the better it gets!]
Kahlvone Taasche paced the space ship’s length over and over and over again, waiting for news. The ship was a small cruiser, not designed to travel long distances. It only had seats to carry four passengers besides the one pilot. One kitchen, one lavatory, one cargo hold. The only beds were of the inch-thin, for-emergency-only, nobody’s-ever-going-to-need-this-but-we-have-to-be-up-to-code quality. Kahlvone was thankful that his assistant thought to bring food, but now they were on day five (by galactic reckoning), and their only remaining sustenance was powdered water.
A Diplomat of planet Shoquwastyne, Kahlvone and his assistant were sent on a mission by the Shoquwasti general. A mission to surrender. Indeed, an entire hemisphere of their planet was leveled with the weapons of war. The fleet from Quaerme attacked ruthlessly, destroying ships, towns, hospitals, anything not guarded by the defective shield that netted Shoquwastyne. But before Kahlvone’s pilot could land the ship on their enemy’s battle station, they were fired at.
Fleeing with little hope, their ship had landed on a Trashstar in the thick of a ruinous asteroid field. Days later, they hadn’t been found, but the sensors were clear: The Quaerme Armada was closing in.
“I need to take a walk,” Kahlvone told his assistant Sar’l, who nodded.
Sar’l’s entire family had already perished with the other casualties of war – casualties that included his and Kahlvone’s hometown. Sar’l looked at the diplomat and said, “You might as well just open the door. We’re dead anyway.”
Kahlvone ignored Sar'l’s well-meaning advice and put on a spacesuit. He stepped into the airlock chamber at the back of the ship, waited for the process to complete, and exited the ship. Kahlvone liked walking outside the ship because it was the only place quiet enough for him to hear himself think.
He walked around on the Trashstar, which was a ball of debris and garbage collected by gravity and proximity and naturally formed into a round satellite object. While the ship rested here the last few days, Kahlvone thought a lot about the trash.
Where did it come from? What destroyed planet are you hiding? What lost civilization echoes even still?
His train of thought halted. Kahlvone knelt into the garbage and stared at a metallic cylinder sticking straight up. He had almost walked past it. He snatched it up and examined it: A chrome tube with a scorched bottom and sealed top.
After walking around for awhile longer, Kahlvone reentered the ship and went straight to the bathroom. He didn’t know why he felt the need for privacy, or what he expected to find in the tube, but something inside pulled him to act. After struggling with there lid for several minutes, the entire top popped off and the cylinder flipped out of the diplomat’s hands, clattering to the ground. Bright blue gelatinous liquid slithered out of the tube, and encased in it was a light-activated, black holo-disk. The disk automatically spun and hovered a foot off the ground, flinging the slime all around the lavatory. It hummed and a projection appeared from the lens in the its spinning middle.
Kahlvone flicked the light off to better see the image. A three dimensional boy stood in front of him, translucent like a ghost. The boy spoke his recorded message.
“I am Aldam, a ten-year-old inhabitant of Earth, year 2213. You’ve found my time capsule. I’m pleased it worked. I was nervous whether or not the rockets would really propel it past the atmosphere.” The kids paused thoughtfully. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing here. Maybe I’m crazy. Daddy says space time capsules are a scam, and there’s not plausible way anyone would ever intercept this small package. The chances are infinitesimal. But I figure if someone needs to hear this, the message will come to the person who needs it. So, here’s my message.
“By the time you heat this, my planet will likely be long destroyed. Daddy says it’s only a matter of time before the aliens finish us off. He says all out best resources are below ground, but I wonder why archaeologists… I don’t know. Try. Why do they scour the surface of human history if the earth’s core could be sold to the nearest Goldilocks planet with tons of cash? I came to the realization that the best resource is culture, not ore. Dad says man can live without electricity, and I can imagine that. But can you live without music? Stories? There was a time before electricity, but I don’t think there was a time before music. Or poetry, or myths, or anything else that matters.
“These aliens don’t care about love, and that’s why chaos abounds. At least, that’s what daddy says. I think I’m too late to stop Earth’s destruction, but I still want to help the universe. So I wrote a song. The lyrics are to remind the hearer of the special truths of Deep Life.”
The boy began to sing, and Kahlvone began to weep.
He exited the bathroom and found the pilot and Sar’l.
“Lord Kahlvone,” said Sar’l. “The enemy ships circle us. They will destroy us soon. There will be no peace. Our planet will be wiped out. No hope of survival. Not even a hope for capture.”
Kahlvone put the disk in the pilot’s hand. “Before they kill us, send them a gift.”
~ ~ ~
General Takolov stood in his ship’s Command Console. He found satisfaction in hunting down and killing every worm he called enemy. He laughed that they seriously thought he’d consider conditions of peace. How could he show a sign of weakness? The Quaerme were known far and wide for their ruthlessness. Descendants of the last survivors of Earth, the Quaerme would have its vengeance on anyone who had a hand in his heritage’s annihilation.
The destruction of Shoquwastyne will be an example of Earth’s progeny’s dominance and reign.
He prepared his fighters at the turrets to fire on his command.
We will wipe them out. Then we will finish his planet.
Takolov inhaled to give the command when an alert flashed on the screen. He laughed. “Yes. I would love to see the envoy beg before it’s blasted.”
Takolov viewed the message from his enemies, but he didn’t see that pathetic diplomate. No, it was a child named Aldam.
A child whose song embraced the general.
A child who brought peace to the galaxy.
