Why Humans Avoid War

Kilon POV

Clinical death. A human phrase that refers to the absence of respiration and a heartbeat. What any normal species would simply call death.

The human doctor in the flagship's medical wing told me I had no vital functions for a little over two minutes. This claim seemed impossible, given that I was very much alive. When I pressed him on how that was possible, he basically said they beat my corpse back to life, though he dressed up the concept with scientific jargon. "Chest compressions", I believe was the term. If that was the Terran idea of a joke, it wasn't very funny.

That wound should have been mortal, by all known medical standards. Waking up in a surreal, all-white room, strung out on whatever drug cocktails were in those IVs, my first thought had been that I was dead. I still wasn't fully convinced this wasn't the afterlife, or some trick of the dying mind.

"What are you thinking about?" It was Commander Rykov, seated on the bar stool next to me, dressed in civilian clothes. The flagship had stopped on Luna for maintenance following our little adventure, and I had obliged his offer to hit the local pub. "You're going to stare a hole through the counter there."

I tried to snap out of my thoughts, sighing. "I'm thinking I need a drink."

He chuckled, beckoning the bartender. "That's the spirit. Two shots of vodka."

The barkeep nodded, and she shuffled off to fill his request. I could feel a few stares directed at me, and I realized with a bit of discomfort that I was the only non-human in the establishment. I glanced up at the television screens on the wall, trying to distract myself. The sound was muted, but I could see closed captioning ticking across the picture.

...for Speaker Ula's resignation intensify, after internal memos disparaging various Federation representatives were leaked to the press. The source of this information is unclear, but she has, of course, accused the Terran Union.

"What exactly did she say?" I asked, pointing to the screen.

"Well, for one, she called the Aroktar ambassador, 'Gutless, witless, and possibly brainless.' And then proceeded to say she would hardly consider his species sentient. You can see how that might be offensive."

"Might be? I'd say her days as Speaker are numbered." I gave the Commander a pointed look, crossing my arms. "I'm glad your brother's friends exposed her."

Rykov stiffened, alarm flashing in his eyes. "I don't know what..."

"I'll stop you right there. Yes, you do," I growled. "Do you think I'm stupid? We all thought the Hoda'al were just paranoid, but they were right when they said your diplomats were spies, weren't they?"

"Between us, yes. But, it's best not to talk about this. The Agency doesn't have rules, and it has ears everywhere." The human had lowered his voice to just above a whisper. I had never seen him look this uncomfortable, which unnerved me as well. "We need to talk anyways. Pavel...wants me to ask you to keep quiet about how Cazil died. I told him we could trust you."

There was an implicit question in his words, asking whether that trust was justified. His tone was almost pleading, and his eyebrows were scrunched with concern. I suspected that worry was for my welfare, rather than his own. If these spies would waltz into the middle of a stand-off and murder a planetary ambassador in cold blood, I had no doubt they would ensure my silence, one way or another.

"You can. My lips are sealed," I said. "Next time, just give it to me straight though. I don't appreciate that 'State Department' BS."

"I know, General, and I'm sorry. I had to maintain his cover, but I never should have dragged you into that embassy mess to begin with."