Rules of Engagement and Etiquette
or
How About Them Earthlings?By B. R. Bearden
Hargus of Trell rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation as the signal light blinked on the comm center. It would be General Taris with his first report of the conquest of the third planet in this rather backwater star system. There was nothing Hargus liked better than a good invasion followed by some leisurely occupation while the defeated world was absorbed into the Trellian Empire. He ran a three fingered, webbed hand through his comely green hair and straightened his uniform before punching the receive switch.
"Ah, General Taris, how go things on…." Hargus oval eyes widened as he saw the haggard figure on the screen. His primary commander was disheveled in the extreme, and to the slander of proper etiquette, his aquamarine uniform was torn in several places.
"Admiral Hargus…we have run into difficulties," the general offered. At least he had the dignity to cover, with his hand, the largest tear in his attire, Hargus noted.
"Difficulties? How could there be difficulties?" Hargus turned his head to fix a single round eye on the image on the screen. "You have followed standard and proper procedures, correct?"
"Oh, absolutely, admiral. Our forces haven’t deviated from the established methods and rules of engagement."
"And?"
General Taris shifted uneasily in his command chair. There seemed to be a bluish haze hanging in the air of his bridge. Before the General could speak, Hargus said, "Is that smoke?"
"What?" Taris blinked the clear membranes over his eyes.
"Behind you," Hargus said, "Do I see smoke on your bridge?"
Taris glanced around, then shrugged. "Sorry, admiral. That would be from the burning overload dampners. Did you know they catch fire when they try to absorb nuclear blasts?"
"Nuclear blasts! What nuclear blasts?"
"From the Earthlings, sir." Taris dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a cloth and wiped the worst of the smudges from his face. "They, uh, well, they fired nuclear equipped missiles at us. Rather unexpected, considering we were in the opening stages of formal conquest."
Hargus’ cheek gills quivered. "Explain what happened, please."
"Well, we took orbit around their world and beamed down the approved offer to accept their immediate surrender. They didn’t respond. Following protocol, I took my fleet down to a distance of 20 miles over their surface and repeated the offer," the officer shook his head. "Something must have gone amiss with the translator, because they repeated our offer back to us; actually offering us the chance to surrender to them."
"Surrender to them?" Hargus was agog with surprise.
"Yes, sir. Oh, and they said it would be…let me check my notes…ah, yes…it would be ‘a cold day in hell before they surrendered to alien invaders in lavender ships’. I believe lavender is a word in their language for the color of our vessels."
"A cold day in hell? Is that a holiday or something?" Admiral Hargus rubbed his chin and mused (He could muse with the best of them when so motivated). "Some species prefer surrendering on certain days, those that observe proper traditions and such. Is that what they meant?"
Taris smiled bleakly, "I sorta doubt it, sir. They didn’t seem too interested in our display of proper tradition. Excuse me, sir." He turned to a crew member and asked him to turn up the air filtering system and clear out some of the smoke as soon as he found an opportunity.
"How so?"
"As stated in section 12 of the Approved Manual of Conquest Etiquette, we fired an opening volley of Challenge Missiles. I choose a nice pattern of colors, sir. I considered firing projection missiles, perhaps those which display an image of the Emperor in his formal robes across the sky, but I didn’t want to flaunt our superiority at this stage of the conquest proceedings."
"Very prudent. Wouldn’t seem polite to show off," Admiral Hargus agreed. "And they responded to the display, I would assume?"
"Oh yes sir, they fired a volley of missiles, too."
"Very good and proper."
Taris grimaced. "Their’s were armed with atomic warheads. If not for our shields…"
The admiral jumped up from his seat in a less than proper show of indignation. "What? They fired armed weapons during the Challenge Phase? What kind of barbarians would disregard the Approved Manual of Conquest Etiquette?"
Taris shook his head. "I think it possible they haven’t read the Manual, sir."
Hargus sank down in his seat. "How can that be? We sent them a copy more than fifty of their years ago, as well as a galaxy translator complete with Help Files."
"Yes sir. It appears now that our ship might have crashed in the southwest region of one of their larger land masses. The…uh…United States of America they call it. The land mass, not the region. It has another name… New Mexico it says here."
"It crashed? A Class V envoy ship with all it’s safety features and backup systems crashed?"
"Uh, well…I suspect they may have shot it down, judging by their reaction to my ships." Taris examined a computer read out on his personal screen. "As to the galaxy translator, our computers speculate that the Earthlings took it apart and reverse engineered it. Interceptions of their computer messages show traces of Trellian coding."
Hargus sighed. "What did you do after the missile exchange?"
"I thought maybe they misunderstood, so I sent down a flight of envoy ships to explain to them their rights as a surrendered species."
Hargus was almost afraid to ask. Quietly he said, "And?"
"They shot them down."
"I’m Admiral Hargus T’Largus of the Imperial Trellian Conquest Department and Tourist Advisory Division.," Hargus introduced himself formally to the Earthling on his view screen. He wore his traditional powder blue Uniform of Surrender Accepting. If his commander couldn’t deal with the barbarians of the third planet, he must, by tradition, assume said duty himself.
The Earthling wore a uniform also, a drab blue outfit with some multi-colored rectangles on the breast and silver stars on the shoulder. "I’m General Douglas D. Thomas, of the United States Air Force, Alien Contact Division. I’m authorized to negotiate with you on behave of the President."
"Very good," Hargus nodded. This Earthling seemed properly mannered. "I believe there was some misunderstanding with our advanced invasion force. You fired upon it."
"No misunderstanding. You invade our planet; we shoot at you."
"That goes against conquest protocol. As the superior race we have an obligation to bring you into our empire. I can send you down a copy of the Approved Manual of Conquest Etiquette and you can read it yourself. Perhaps that will straighten this situation out. After all, we spent over fifty of your years just getting the invasion fleet here. We can’t be expected to merely turn around and go home, can we?"
"How many ships you got in your fleet?" the Earthling asked.
Hargus shrugged. "The prescribed number for conquest of a Class M world with a level three technology."
"Humor me," the Earthling said. "What is the prescribed number again?"
"Twenty."
Hargus took a deep, satisfying breath of the salt laden air. "Ah, this is nice. See how the sea stretches from horizon to horizon away from this island? The Earthlings choose it because they know we are a sea bred race. That’s proper etiquette."
"And their insistence that we bring down the entire conquest fleet, admiral?" General Taris asked. "Didn’t that seem somewhat odd? I’m not sure we can trust these people."
Hargus waved away his subordinate’s doubts. "It is stated clearly in the Manual of Conquest Etiquette that a surrendering opponent has the right to see the entirety of your force, to prove that it meets the requirements for surrender and negates any fight options. Twenty ships is the minimum number. The Earthling has had three of his planet’s days to study the Manual. He’s following proper procedure."
"Of course, admiral," General Taris looked across the vast expanse of ocean. He turned towards the fleet, lined up in the Surrender Formality Formation, crews turned out in dress uniforms of lavender to match their crafts. He glanced at his chronometer. "The Earthlings should be along at any moment. The agreed surrender time is only five of their minutes away, if they’re punctual."
"I think I see their craft approaching now. See there, coming over the horizon? Nice formation." Admiral Hargus pulled down on his jacket to smooth away any wrinkles. He took another deep breath. "I really like this island. It might be a good spot for my headquarters during the occupation, though we’ll have to clean up this low level radiation somewhat. What did the Earthlings call it again?"
Taris watched the flight of a dozen Earthling craft arc across the sky. They looked disturbingly like the challenge missiles they’d sent his way. "The name? Oh, something odd. Bikini Island, I think it was."
The End
Author's BIO:
I live in Florida with my wife Jean and son Aaron. Writing as B. R. Bearden I’ve been published in Millennium Science Fiction & Fantasy, The Edge, Burning Sky, Challenging Destiny, The NeoVictorian, Edgar Digested Verse, Scouting Magazine, Electric Wine, Candle Light Poetry Review, The Panhandler, Dark Corridors, etc.
My approach to writing is to try to tell an interesting story. Failing that, my second tactic is to try to fool an editor into "thinking" it’s an interesting story, possibly by using the name of his/her ex-wife/husband as the name of the murder victim. (The more they pay by the word, the more gruesome the death scene.)
I was told at an early age that I was a natural story teller. (Actually the phrase was "natural liar", and it was my teacher when I tried to explain yet another tardy, but if you read between the lines, you see what she was trying to say. In fact, she was so impressed by my stories that she frequently sent me to the principal so he could hear them, too. Ah, for the days when teachers encouraged and inspired…)
