Art CriticChapter 7 Dominating the Scene
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Shock, overwhelming sadness, the pain of loss, and anger, anger that such filth could reside anywhere, and good beings not know of it. All the blinders, scales, or whatever sensory inhibitors the beings of the Alliance might have, after millennia nearly beyond memory of being at peace, to have it stripped away in an instant, and ripped from their collective consciousness, had shaken the Alliance to the core.
Those native to the now destroyed Human Earth were in mourning for their lost species. All the outpouring of sympathy from the rest of the Alliance helped, but could not assuage the deep rage, and hard commitment that now rested in the heart of every Human, and surprisingly the MQ, to root out any evil of like character.
Once such evil surfaced, if they could not be persuaded change their ways, and if they continued to destroy innocent lives because of greed, or in the name of racial purity, or just because they could, then the Protectorate could, and would, see that they stopped ... permanently.
Many members of the Alliance previously thinking the Humans odd and of the opinion that they might be slightly insane for engaging in the role they played in the Alliance, now became firmly convinced they were correct.
The Protectorate instituted a new policy as a security measures. This applied especially, to any-and-all loose-lipped or loose minded, politicians. Henceforth the remaining enclaves of the Protectorate would remain incommunicado from the rest of the Alliance, as to their past, current, or projected course, or location. Such information considered Top Secret, known only to the new Group Mind of the Protectorate and a select few members. To reveal the information to anyone not of the Protectorate brought an immediate sentence of death to the guilty party.
All of the ship incorruptible AI's actually considered members of, and all fiercely loyal to, the Protectorate would not communicate anything to anyone else.
Information flowed one way, into the Protectorate. They protected the Alliance but outside of allowing the Alliance to know of the completion of a task, and providing an after action report, there was no idle chitchat of any kind.
Any communication had to be by telepathy and tightly controlled. The strongest of the telepaths received intensive training in blocking telepathic probes before posting to Protectorate Vessels, Haven, Ark, or receiving postings as liaison officers to the Alliance.
Each of the liaison officers had a small specially designed, limited passenger vessel, with a super capacity AI, but no information on armament, speed, or other technical information on the vessels was forthcoming, although rumors were rampant among the Alliance members.
They, as well as every other member of the Protectorate, now carried a sidearm of lethal design originating from the Protectorate labs. This in conjunction with the 'Hooter's' personal shields, tended to produce few beings stupid enough to attack any of them. Those that did try to kidnap one of the officers early on, did not repeat their mistake, nor pass on their genes to the genetic pool, and served as an abject lesson for others that might be tempted. The Nondeaka had no trouble squeegeeing up the resulting mess, nor did they complain about the source of the nutrients.
Shortly after the disaster, all Protectorate and MQ members had gathered on Ark to commemorate those no longer with them.
The list contained the names of Annabelle's parents -- Rafe and Pamela, -- Sherry's Parents and little sister Ramón, Nina, and Anita, -- Agent Quinton and Nurse Phillips, -- Becky Tanner, home on leave, lost, -- Jeddediah Colburn, and all of the people they had known so well from Searcy County Government, Law Enforcement, City Government ... the list just seem to go on-and-on. Not least of which included ET, Phoebe and their crew, on Human Earth at the time to recruit more felines. It was much easier to list the people that survived and made gender, genus, species, or ethnicity moot.
It took almost a year to inscribe all of the names of the fallen into the inner ceiling surface of Ark. They included the names of those that had been on the original monument and those Humans destroyed on Human Earth, along with those names of the MQ, and other Alliance species that happened to be on the planet at the time.
Very few members of the Alliance had full knowledge of how many had perished in the destruction of Human Earth, along with those that had brought about the annihilation of the planet of Evil. The count was in the neighborhood of several hundred billions, but each of them was commemorated as the heroes they were.
After the gathering on Ark, the crew onboard the once Alliance, but now Protectorate Research Vessel 125-Explorer, returned to orbit around MQ1. Crewed by Jamie, Sherry, and Maxim, the Col. and Christine, Trass and Sless a mated pair of MQ, Mewah and Ssan -- orphaned kits of ET and Phoebe, Hoot, Penay-ah, Noaha, Patti, and Annabelle -- orphaned daughter of Rafe and Pamela. Gathering in the lounge to check for and handle any residual mental problems stemming from the grief for lost parents, family, and friends that could be crippling. Once it was determined that all were on an even keel, they set about re-assessing what they wanted to accomplish, and where they wanted to accomplish it. After much debate, amounting to a whole thirty seconds worth of telepathy, the crew decided that they had been doing that which needed done, exploring, which took care of the what. The where, the direction already headed when they discovered the MQ seemed good to everyone, and they decided to continue in that direction.
Contacting MQ1 to advise them of the Crew's decision, they broke orbit. Once underway, standing watch, handled by Toto the vessel's AI, and a single assigned crewmember became the routine. This duty might sound onerous, but with the number of crew onboard lacking the need to sleep, it was just spending time while doing something different while in a different part of the vessel.
"Toto, what is the ETA to our next target?" Mewah asked aloud, more to exercise his vocal cords than anything else, since telepathy was the usual method of communication.
Toto answered, "Ten time increments less than it was when you asked before. What's the matter, Mewah? Becoming bored with my company already?"
Mewah stretched his body starting with his nose, ending with the tip of his tail, and extending down his extremities, causing his claws to appear. "No, my friend, never that, but inactivity is making me climb the walls; or it would if the walls were climbable."
Toto made a sound that resembled amusement and said, "If it will help burn off your nervous energy, I can reform the walls in here to resemble carpeting."
"That would be most excellent friend, Toto," Mewah exclaimed.
Before Mewah's eyes, the walls and ceiling of the command bridge appeared to morph into shag carpet.
"Fantastic. Thank you, Toto." Mewah snickered. "The only thing missing is mouse to chase."
Suddenly, in the upper corner of one of the shag covered walls, appeared what seemed to be a mouse. It looked like a mouse, moved like a mouse, and even smelled like a mouse. In less than a heartbeat, the chase was on and continued the rest of the watch.
Feeling almost paternal, Toto watched as the frenzied activity ensued, and thought, "It is a small thing to bring him joy after the loss of parents and siblings. It is good that everyone here has bonded as family. They have enriched this AI's existence by including me as a member because without it I may never have known love."
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