Extinction Event Blues

Flash-fiction - by Andrew Leonard

"Give me the damage assessment, Daddy. And for once, hold the sauce."

Feralka apprehensively shuffled into the bridge. Her bloodshot eyes no longer held their self-assured gaze. A fear of the future resided there instead. She looked at the tiny red and orange blossoms speckling the ship's foredeck vista.  

"Certainly. But are you ready to embrace the suck?!" came Daddy’s over-emphatic, esoteric reply.

The disheveled ship’s captain frowned wearily at the data globe floating above a semi-circle of stepped terminals culminating in an elaborate captain’s console. 

“Do I need to pull your cord?” She motioned obscenely towards the globe. Her arms moved languidly as if burdened by some unseen weight.

“Sorry, got carried away there. Situational awareness is shot to hell. Our fleet’s remaining fragments are strung across the system’s perimeter like blind mice; strikes on our integrated command and control stations have disabled AIM, rendering operational and tactical force projection capabilities non-existent. In other words, we’re sitting ducks in a world of hurt.” Daddy’s voice returned to its soft-spoken, masculine default.

"Thanks for the rosy picture.” Feralka took a deep breath and swallowed her growing desperation in a gulp. 

"Know of any apocalypse insurance underwriters?" She smirked sarcastically. Leaning against a work terminal, she sank to the floor and began kneading her temples. 

"As a matter of fact, our comms are being hailed by an inbound transmission coded SOS. Have been for some time, but the protocols are scrambled." 

"Any and all distractions are welcome. Answer it."

A holographic woman instantly illuminated the data globe. She wore a simple jumpsuit, and her features and age were roughly equivalent to Feralka's.

"Apologies for the unscheduled call, but it has come to our attention that humanity’s presence here in the Skagway is under threat of extinction," said the feminine silhouette with exaggerated congeniality.

"Our attention?" The captain asked skeptically, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Apologies. I am a representative of Extinction Event Solutions. Are you familiar with us?"

"Please, enlighten me."

"Certainly," an exuberant smile lit up the figure’s face, "and please, call me Joan."

"We’re on a first-name basis already? Color me flattered." 

"Worlds rise, and worlds fall, but here at EES, we have your survivability and sustainability needs covered. We offer civilizational safeguards against extinction level events, including, but not limited to: hostile life forms, inter-species cross-pollination, nuclear warfare and fallout, nano-plagues, hostile artificial intelli–"

"Hostile? How about highly offensive sales pitches? Do you protect against those as well?" Daddy countered with mock outrage.

Joan ignored the cheeky AI and continued her seemingly well-trodden script. 

"Additionally," she paused momentarily, "we handle event horizons, solar flares, and supernovae threats. Our mitigation services include, but are not limited to, kinetic defensive and offensive capabilities, Dyson spheres, antimatter containment tools, terrestrial reseeding arks, event horizon sealants, genetic resequencing, terraforming, and civilizational customization and thresholding." 

The feminine figure paused briefly, winking and flashing her pearly whites.

"Conversely, we also offer services for neutralizing belligerent lifeforms who hinder your orderly expansion across space and time. But most importantly, we want what is best for you and your kind and would love nothing more than to tailor a package to your group’s specific needs."

"Is this a free consultation? Because our laundry list of needs is metastasizing by the minute." Feralka's face flickered with a conflicted expression, somewhere between hopelessness and cautious optimism.

"For you, absolutely," chimed Joan, "but first we’ll need to know your specific circumstances.” 

“Okay, I’ll bite. Daddy, send Peaches 'N Cream a full extract of our vitals."

“Done.”

Joan’s silhouette flickered for a fraction of a second, and she continued on. “Oh dear. Humanity appears to be in quite a bind. No need to worry, though. We have a range of options that will satisfy your needs and see you on your merry way.” She again paused briefly and flashed that reassuring smile. “One of our more modest offerings you may find enticing is the Stealthy Star Farer Package, which offers you foolproof cloaking technology to elude your antagonist. Fuel and provision upgrades are available at an additional charge, should you wish to flee this sector of space." 

"Uhh, okay. But...is this for real?" Feralka squinted skeptically at Joan and flopped into the seat of the captain’s console, encircled by a moat of lower stations.

"Alternatively, our inter-species remediation services are designed to come to mutually agreeable terms for both parties. We are more than happy to facilitate direct negotiations between humanity and the Homunculi and will arbitrate terms of a ceasefire, should you wish to take that route."

"Slow your roll, sister. We've lost tens of billions to the Horde, not to mention thousands of habitation rings spanning 11 star systems. What makes you think they're willing to negotiate peace?" Feralka's face reddened as her frustration mounted.

"We have found in our previous dealings that all belligerents have a price." Joan maintained a neutral expression.

“And what could we possibly offer? Did you miss the part where I mentioned our entire civilization is on the brink of extinction?” Feralka’s patience suddenly snapped, and she shot to her feet in a fit of exasperation.

“We’ll discuss payment options in just a moment, dear–”

“Wait, did you just call me, dear?” 

“We only want what’s best,” said Joan, holding out her palms in appeasement.

“Best for who?” 

“All parties involved.” Joan flashed a doe-eyed look of sincerity.

“Uh huh, I bet you do.” Feralka slowly recollected herself and began walking the span of the foredeck, her eyes never leaving the hologram.

Joan clasped her hands together and looked on sympathetically.

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong footing. Let's have a look at some of our more robust options." Her smile beamed once again, and she radiated warmth like a foundry.

"The threat posed by the Homunculi will require considerable weaponry for purely defensive purposes, let alone offensive posturing. Would you like to defend against your aggressors or actively engage them? And in the event you would like to relocate your civilization, we have an extensive catalog of generation ships and evacu–”

“Would it be possible to speak to someone or something with gray matter? Your brainless AI babble isn’t exactly yielding any progress,” Feralka enunciated slowly, as though addressing a child.

"Shall I sever the link?" asked Daddy.

Feralka bit her tongue for a moment before responding. "Nah, leave it…for shits 'n giggles. Anything to distract me from the end of human history," she muttered bitterly. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” the hologram smiled sadly before continuing. “So, would you like to neutralize your aggressors altogether or repel them from human space?”

“I don’t freaking know," came Feralka’s tired response, "I just want humanity to be free from the threat of extinction. Is that so difficult to understand?”

“I can appreciate the need for your civilization’s future viability and security. Our very own EES Guidebook to the Milky Way Galaxy indicates you are a Class 3 species while the Homunculi are a Class 12, taking into account factors such as technological development, empathy, and predilection towards self-regression. Unfortunately, none of your current technology will suffice in repelling them.”

“Ya think?” Groaning, Feralka squatted face down, arms folded over her head.

“We have multiple Omega-level packages available, which guarantee the eradication of all threats within radii of 5, 10, or 20 light years, relative to your celestial coordinates."

"But of course you do! It’s not like that would take, you know, A DAMN WELL INFINITE SUPPLY OF ENERGY! Just a light galactic lift.” At her wit’s end, Feralka abruptly laid on the metal decking, stretched her limbs, and tried yawning away her anxieties. 

“Daddy, print me some popcorn, please." Almost instantly, an opening appeared in the ceiling directly above her, releasing a mass of self-contained popcorn kernels that gently floated down. Feralka snatched it effortlessly and returned to her captain's chair. She crossed her legs, held up her chin with one fist, and began slowly chomping.

"Please, go on," she said with a stuffed mouth.

"Now, in order to narrow the scope of your objective, will you be deploying the technology provided, or would you prefer we do so? Please note that if you opt for the former, an extensive training package will be necessary prior to utilizing the technology.”

Feralka threw a single kernel in the air and easily caught it in her mouth as it drifted down. “Do ya see what I see?” She gestured casually towards crimson dots scattered across the bridge’s polyglass viewport. “In case you hadn’t noticed, time is of the essence here. So work your magic and get the job done, capeesh?” The chomping continued.

Joan grinned knowingly, as if sharing an inside joke with an old friend. “Certainly, our pleasure. Now that the scope of your needs has been defined, we can discuss the terms of payment.”

“Oh, but of course!" Feralka guffawed and unintentionally spat out the contents of her mouth. Leaning back in her captain's chair, she swiveled around in circles, giggling uncontrollably. After regaining her composure, she asked, "And how can we possibly compensate you for these…services? Offer up our firstborn sons, maybe?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Joan exclaimed, her cheer rising to new heights. “We've studied human anatomy extensively and found the flesh and blood sleeves you inhabit are quite durable vessels. And the truth is, we are in need of new ones ourselves. Now, if you would be so kind as to submit willingly, we’ll all avoid any unnecessary unpleasantries.”

Her eyes widened with elation, and her smile went supernova.