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For six hundred years, we were the sword and the shield of the known worlds. We stood atop the bulwarks, rooted out pirates, guarded merchant and diplomatic vessels and ensured the safety of the border systems. We cast out the Kraa-Nec when they turned on the known worlds, we were the force that defeated the legendary Hysrodil ravagers. And we were the ones who finally failed when the Nuoc’tu invaded.
It started slowly. Scout ships began popping into system, doing quick scans. We would hail them, but they would already be gone, fleeing before our message could travel to them. It was noted, analyzed, reported upon. We tried to analyze the ships of this seemingly skittish race. Then we commissioned an envoy fleet. Diplomats from many worlds went on that ship. It was escorted by some of our very best vessels, with well-trained crews and advanced weaponry.
A sixth of that fleet returned to us, heavily damaged and pursued. Of that sixth only two ships survived to get back to the core of the known worlds. We prepared for war. We were too late.
The Nuoc’tu realized our weakness. We were scattered. Our ships were strong, but not unbreakable. They focused, crushing resistance, decimating individual ships. Ships that simply could not be replaced fast enough. We began to retreat, pull back from the rim. There was uproar in the core systems. We were abandoning their colonies to die. Our leaders were called in front of the council. They demanded to know what was going wrong. We were the sword and the shield. We were given full autonomy of galactic defense. We were given resources, paid tribute, granted license to take what was needed. How could we be failing? How, after all they had sacrificed, could we fail them so? We were browbeaten, jeered, and insulted for three hours.
I had never seen a human before. They were a small presence, far from my previous postings, lacking prestige or importance of larger, better equipped members of the known worlds council. The human councilman rose, lank, hawk nosed, pale skinned and unimposing. Apparently he was a powerful member of his species, not the pinnacle, but an exemplar of his people. He looked around the council, at all the members who had had the chance to speak before him, ask questions and cut us off as we tried to answer, those who had mocked us. Then he looked at our leaders, whose features had become as stone, tempers fraying, and beyond that the tension of loss weighing down upon them.
“Thank you. What can we do to help?”
The room froze. Our leaders took a moment before even exchanging glances. A few of the rear admirals began speaking quietly, in hurried whispers trying to figure out an answer. Our command staff had come here expecting to be railed against, not offered more help, no one had expected this. None of the senior commanders knew the capabilities of human ships, what their numbers were, or what resources they produced or could extract. We weren’t even sure they could help.
A Gizthari councilman started to speak, claiming that we had already received enough when the human shot him a look I could only call venomous, “You have had your opportunity to speak councilor, almost all of you have. It is our species chance to speak and I ask how can I help rather than shout myself hoarse.” He looked around the room again, “You talk of money, of resources. I hear none of you talk of lives, not even when you speak of your colonies. The Vasharan have lost no less than forty two battleships, twenty carriers, and over two hundred smaller defense vessels, all of which were lost with all hands. They have fought and bled and died giving your colonies a chance to evacuate. We humans appreciate the sacrifice that Vasharan have made. They are not succeeding, but they must succeed. You all stand here demanding answers, questioning their competence, deploring their inferiority, but if they fall who will stand to defend your home systems? Do you think the Nuoc’tu will simply stop at your borders? Do you think this threat is going to be placated by giving them resources?”
An uncomfortable silence settled in the council room. The human turned back to our leaders. “So, I ask you, what can we do to help?”
Grand Admiral V’vish’ar looked down at the little human, “We will find a way,” He glanced around the thoroughly cowed room, “But I think you have already started.”