And to Dust We Shall Return.

stale bread and promises

The captain had been involved with a number of different peace negotiations throughout her tenure. And they all, without exception, went the same. There would be a room, usually beige or brown or battleship grey. With plush looking chairs, designed to numb the posteriors of anyone who sat on them for too long, arranged around a long table. The delegates, or dictators or prime ministers or monarchs or whatever they were called would sit at one end, and she would sit at the other. Awkward pleasantries would then be made until eventually, the concerned party would give up and explain their reason for wanting to join the union. Usually it was for reasons of trade, (can we have some of them fancy minerals you got from Redek two) military tactics (can we have some of them big guns you got from Redek two) or very occasionally because of a mutual interest in exploring the galaxy (because Redek two has run out of minerals and guns and we'd like to find some more). But whatever the reason was, there always, always was one. The union did not go around, actively pushing its agenda. There were no recruitment posters placed in spaceports. The creatures of the galaxy were left to decide for themselves if they wanted to join. Those who had reason too did. And those who didn’t didn’t.  But all who asked were considered.

' Sjors, While last night was...entertaining to say the least, I feel I must point out that it did cause a bit of disruption. '

(But of course that doesn’t mean that all were accepted.)

Sjors’s face fractured in a smile. 'My apologies captain. It's been a long time since we have enjoyed good wine and good company without having to face a battle in the morning.  It may have gone to their heads.'

 'Well it definitely went to mine.  So if you don’t mind, I'll get straight to the point. What is it you want from the union exactly?'

Sjors threw his arms wide. 'I see you are a straightforward woman, you would go far in Gnar politics.' 

The captain raised an eyebrow. 'Perhaps with your help, we both will.'

Sjors grinned a grin that exposed far too many teeth to be charming. 'Very well' He said, lowering his voice. 'You may not know this, but we were once a mighty empire. Our people held planets in every sector of the galaxy. But we suffered greatly in the changeling war. Those cowards couldn't match our armies, so instead they seeped in through the cracks. Turned our people against each other. Poisoned our land so nothing would grow. Now we are but a shadow of our former glories, and we can’t even sustain the survivors that are left.'

So that was the kicker. Thought the captain. Military driven dictatorships like theirs seldom had dealings with the union. Primarily because purposeful warmongering, and/or other forms of state sponsored bodily harm tended to be a bit of a roadblock to interspecies collaboration. But the union was nothing if not open minded- Particularly when the minds of others owned so many shipments of explosives. 

 'So, you are in need of supplies?'

'Yes.' said Sjors. Enough to feed our population until we can clean up the mess. 

'And how long will that take?' She asked wearily. She had no idea how big the Gnar population was. But judging by the size of them, they didn’t like to skimp on meals.

'Three years, sol time. We will need an estimated 200, 0000 tonnes of food.'

'That's...a heck of a lot of bagels.'

'It may be, but we would not take your...bagels...without giving something in return.'

The captain leaned back in her chair 'oh..?? And what might that be.'

'The most priceless gift of all captain.  Knowledge. Our empire is…ahem- was considerably more advanced than yours.  We can offer you technology, research, ideas. The sum total of our achievements! All will be yours.… For a few rations.'

Knowledge. That was indeed a treasured resource. Many a battle had been fought for it.  But, it did not do to be so trusting of the travelling salesman promising cure all’s. When he only had snake oil in his case.

'If you are so advanced, then why can’t you sort this out yourselves?'

Sjors, seemingly had been expecting this question, for he rattled off his answer quicker than a gameshow host reading from an autocue.
'We may have the technology to rebuild our ecosystem, captain. But you cannot rush nature.  It will be many years until we can repair the damage. And in the meantime we still have to eat'

That at least made logical sense. But she would need to do some research to be sure.
'Hmmm... You pose a very tempting offer Sjors.' She replied ' But I will need to speak with command before I can take it any further.'

Sjors appeared pleased with this. 'Take as much time as you want, captain! As long as your bar is open I doubt we will be going anywhere.'