Tales From the Terran Republic

Gasping, Karashel flooped over and rolled off of Ugabbalen, the new Baleelan "ambassador".

She pulled out her neural link and looked at it with delight.

"How did we not think of doing it with these before!" she exclaimed happily.

"I know, right?" Ugabbalen smiled as he flipped back over and slid up next to her. "I don't know what's better, the tunes or getting your POV… Wild."

The pair just lay next to each other, "cuddling" for a while.

"Not that I'm complaining," Karashel bubbled in his ear, "and I'm not one to examine a blossom's stem, but why me? You could successfully bed any Baleela you want, and I'm… Well..."

"Yeah, I am pretty," Ugabbalen chuckled, "and I do have that smooth slithery style..."

He slid in a little closer.

"So, yeah, I can pretty much lay who I want," he smiled, "so I did."

"But why me," Karashel asked, "I'm not… a 'hottie' like Velabsela."

"You mean the lavender temptress?" he snorted, causing a little slime to shoot out, "Please. Oh, she's cute, but all wiggle and no pea. I like wiggle, but I love peas… And when it comes to peas…"

He extended his breathing tube towards Karashel's ear.

"You are packing a melon," he whispered, causing Karashel to giggle. "You are easily the smartest Baleel I have ever met. Besides," he smiled, "it's like they say, a big fish beats a big dick, and you, my big peaed pink darling, just dragged home the biggest fish in Baleean history! It sets a boy's heart all aflutter."

He gently stroked her with his radula.

"Power is sexy," he purred. "Get used to this."

"Oh," Karashel sighed. "And that's part of the problem. Not this," she giggled, "this is NOT a problem. But power, wealth… and all of the corruption that comes with it… that's a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"It was easy to get everyone working together when we were broke, desperate, and looking management in the face," Karashel said, "Mmmm… keep doing that… But now that we've brought home that fish, everyone will start arguing about how to cook it. Do we fry it, grill it, cut sashimi, make a stew..."

"A nice problem to have," Ugabbalen smiled.

"Yeah," Karashel replied, "But what happens when I tell them that we should cut it for bait and use the rest for our garden."

"… I do see your point..." he replied. "Wait… we are going to use the 'customers' as bait?"

"That's the plan," Karashel replied.

"What the fuck are you fishing for?"

"The entire Federation," Karashel purred. "And if you think this little minnow is sexy… Just you fucking wait..."

"Ooooh..." Ugabbalen purred, "Now that's hot."

"Very," Karashel replied, booping him with her sweaty, slime-coated "nose". "But I have to get us from here to there, and it won't be easy. (sigh) I'm tempted to just go with plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"Drain the 'customers' of every single credit they have," Karashel replied, "Spend the year stripping their industrial capacity..."

She leaned in close.

"And then void the contract for inability to pay when they can't meet the shipping and handling fees next year, leaving them completely destitute, robbed of any real industrial capacity, and with no food."

Ugabbalen looked at her with a mixture of awe, arousal, and absolute horror.

"Billions would die!"

Karashel shrugged.

"Probably not," she replied, "We dump a few months of food on them as a going away present, and then they are the Federation's problem, just like during the Republic War. The Gvorta and the rest are then subjected to the same side of the Federation we were, probably going into management, and spend the rest of the time the Federation exists as just another 'third world' state… which is about ten years. And they would then die with everyone else."

"What?!?"

"The Collective," Karashel replied, "it's estimated that their next big horde will be unleashed around that time. It will be even worse than the one that hit the Empire. If the Federation can't crush the Humans, they won't have a hope in all of the Hells there are against them. The whole Federation is going right into the Devourer's tummy… Except for the part behind the line when the Empire and Republic decide to get involved, which they will. They will want the battlefield to be us, not them. However, they will let the Federation's fleet soften up the Collective first."

Karashel snuggled Ugabbalen

"Win or lose," she purred, "the Federation dies. Either the Collective wins and it's extinction, or the Empire and Republic win, and they take the opportunity to eliminate the Federation once and for all… To be honest, I wouldn't mind that, except for where we are located. If we weren't so unfortunate in our placement, I would have just sprung the first trap, forced the Gvorta to cut us loose, and made us a few credits in the bargain. There wouldn't be any need for the rest of this bullshit. The Federation would go bye-bye all on its own, and we would either be Imperial subjects, not a bad thing to be, or we would be Republic citizens, my personal choice."

Ugabbalen just sat there, completely stunned.

"But, the Devourer isn't that kind," Karashel snickered, "He's still a bit annoyed with us, actually. So instead of just letting nature run its course, we have to do something… I have to do something."

"W-what are we going to do?"

"Fight," Karashel smiled. "We have roughly ten years to get the Baleean system and the Baleean people ready to stand against the Collective or ready to run like hell when they hit. For that, we need money, we need industry, and we need a huge fucking fleet, one big enough to hold our own against the worst threat in the galaxy (that we know of) or big enough to carry each and every squirm, wiggle, and jellybean to wherever we wind up next. That's the real game, Ugabbalen. You're cleared to know that now."

Karashel gave him a slimy kiss.

"Surprise!" she giggled. "Personally, I am NOT inclined to abandon our beautiful world to those bugs, so I have a decade to brew up a kettle of whoop-ass to serve our guests when they arrive."

Ugabbalen sat up in alarm.

"How can we possibly hope to stand up against the Collective?"

Karashel chuckled darkly.

"By making friends," she bubble purred, "and making friends is something I am very, very good at."

***

"We've reviewed your proposal," a silver-haired ancient human woman said to Karashel over a small monitor in Karashel's apartment, not the communications center. "And, while wondering why the hell you would want to do this, we are definitely interested."

"Super!" Karashel exclaimed happily.

"But you have to know," the woman said calmly, "once we get involved, we are involved, and we don't work for you or anyone else. From our previous conversations, you clearly know our history and our methods. Are you absolutely certain that is what you want?"

"Yes," Karashel replied, "That is exactly what I want, every single bit of it, and the sooner, the better."

"Why?"

"There is a saying that we Baleel and you Humans have, the same almost to the word, 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely'. Even I am not immune. It took less than twenty-four hours before I adjusted my strategy so I would get a nice car out of the deal. What will even I be in a week? A month? No. We not only want you, we need you. The 'customers' need proper representation and a strong advocate, not only one that will do the job but one that they will trust. It's one thing for me to say that we won't starve you to death, and you won't be slaves. It's entirely another thing for you to say it. For my goals to succeed, I need the 'customers' to cooperate and cooperate enthusiastically. That's where you come in. The Baleel and the rest of the committee need you, possibly even more."

"How so?"

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. We need checks and balances. You guys will provide that. One thing that has always torpedoed the (heh) 'dictatorship of the proletariat' (which this is NOT) is that dictatorships create dictators. We need a pain in the ass strong enough to keep the whole thing in check, one strong enough to keep my plans intact even if I get my pea blown out, which is a distinct possibility. You are hereby invited to set up operations in all Good Vibes and Happiness For the Future Coalition members, both provider and customer."

"I hope you realize what you just let in… comrade."

"I do. There is only one condition."

"And here it comes," the old woman sneered.

"I want all of you, not just part of you."

"What do you mean."

"I want the whole package, and that includes occupational training. I want your schools, your apprenticeships, your workplace, and industrial safety, your technology… all of it, not just your rabble rousing."

"We would insist on that anyhow," the human replied, "And we have just one condition as well."

"Shoot!" Karashel said happily.

"This 'resource allocation credit'," the woman replied as if she was chewing on a turd. "We gotta nip this bullshit in the bud right now. You ain't paying nobody in fucking chits only good at the 'company store'. Not happening."

"I know what it looks like," Karashel replied, "But they aren't chits. I am trying to institute a new and completely valid currency. A finite number of them will be printed, and they will be tied directly to the production of each member state. As that production rises, so will their value, and it will never fall below one Federation credit. I have to make it look 'chitty' so I can sneak it past the Federation until we get too strong for them to object. They have a thing about keeping a monopoly on the monies. It's one of the ways they have leverage and one I exploited to great effect. They have absolutely no control over these' worthless' chits, and the 'exchange rate' will only go up. Hell, I'm going to get paid in them! It's a great investment and built-in profit sharing! The better a system performs, the more their 'money' is worth, and nobody will have any problem getting them exchanged when they want… after the adjustment period. During the adjustment period, they will only be able to exchange them for goods and services outside of the Coalition systems, but in exchange, they will have access to the entire galaxy, not just the restricted selection they had before because of those stupid trade agreements."

"So you say," the woman replied suspiciously, "but exactly how long is that adjustment period?"

"Five years," Karashel replied. "Give me five years, and if you don't like it, we will do a bulk exchange one for one with Federation credits and convert all wages to credits immediately."

"We'll need that in writing," the woman replied.

"It's already in the contract."

"I still don't like it."

"A good negotiation leaves neither side fully satisfied," Karashel replied, "Just think. If you do this, you will be able to compete directly with the Federation on this side of the tariffs. We achieve what I know we can achieve, and it won't just be the Coalition who will be interested in you. It could open up access to countless other systems as well. You people are far more dangerous to business as usual in the Federation than your military could ever hope to be."

Karashel smiled

"And I'm stupid to let you have a toe-hold in it," she grinned, "If you honestly don't like how things turn out, you assholes have a long history of what happens next. So what do you say?"

"We are NOT disarming."

"I wasn't stupid enough to request it."

The woman glanced over at another monitor where over a hundred names and titles appeared, watching as green icon after green icon appeared.

She smiled.

"Karashel of the Baleel, as president of the Terran RFL-CIO, I accept your invitation. I sincerely hope you know what you just unleashed."

"I am all wiggly with anticipation," Karashel giggled.