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Grass Eaters 3 | 60 | Diet
🕑 Added 2025-03-12 15:47:01 +0000 UTCRural District 990, Datsot-3
POV: Zaernust, Malgeir (Wanted: Tax Evasion)
Zaernust closed his eyes in bliss, savoring the flavor of his steak as his tongue sampled its texture thoroughly. The meat itself was from an animal native to Datsot, but the aromatic seasoning was imported from off-world.
Rosemary.
It gave off an odd scent but a pleasant one… once he got used to it. Some called it an acquired taste.
It was an expensive taste, to put it mildly. But being able to afford luxuries like this was one of the perks of the job as a fuel cartel boss.
What’s the point of all the credits in the galaxy if you can’t enjoy life?
He accompanied the steak with a sip of the mystery alien drink from his fancy glass. It was a dark brown liquid with the consistency of water. There were bubbles floating in it, rising to the top. His chef had assured him it was another top quality import from the new aliens.
As the liquid touched his tongue, he shuddered at the mildly spicy, extremely sweet flavor.
“Whew. It’s got a kick to it!” Zaernust exclaimed, turning to his chef. “What is it?”
His chef asked excitedly, “It’s what they call… soda. Is it any good?”
“Soda, huh?” He gulped down the rest of it, letting it bubble and fizz on his tongue before feeling it run down his esophagus into his stomach. “It’s almost like our stelgi. Amazing. Another!”
“Glad you like it,” his chef said, pouring him another glass. Zaernust didn’t wait before greedily licking the thin layer of foam off the top. The chef continued, “This cost us a small fortune to acquire. All completely genuine, I was assured. In its original packaging too!”
“Original packaging?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like they’re collectibles?”
“They came in these red and black aluminum cans. Vintage.” The chef showed him one of the empty cans.
“Aluminum?!” he gasped at the smooth metal, feeling it bend slightly even as he held it in his paw. “Isn’t this… what we use to make airplanes and spaceship hull?”
“That very metal—it’s a high-quality alloy!”
“Amazing, these aliens. How do they even come up with this stuff?” He shook his head in wonder and grinned, “Not to mention their equipment.”
That was his personal favorite. Unlike most Federation or Znosian military hardware, Terran armored vehicles — the ones that had been transported to Datsot, at least — drank fuel. Just gulped it down. Their Navy and Marines knew their supply chains and logistics, but given the lack of any refueling stations between their systems and Datsot… As the owner of 85% of fuel processing plants on Datsot, this war had made Zaernust a very rich criminal indeed.
“More soda?” his chef asked, as he finished off yet another cup.
“Just one more cup.”
What’s the point of all the credits in the galaxy if you can’t enjoy life indeed?
At that moment, one of his lieutenants walked into his dining room with her datapad. Her face told him it wasn’t anything as pleasant as his meal.
“Can’t that wait?” he asked, looking greedily at the remaining plates on the table even as he chugged another glass full of soda. He gestured for another refill from his chef.
“No, sir. It’s that annoying bitch from upstairs again. And she’s not taking no for an answer.”
It really was a pity that the car bomb — and the backup hit squad — didn’t manage to take her out last week. It wouldn’t be hard for her to trace it back to him, but what was she going to do? She was one of those high society penthouse folks with their golden pens and corner offices, afraid to get their paws dirty with what needed to be done. Of course, she couldn’t be allowed to stick around now; he’d have to send her another present shortly…
“What does she want now?” he asked his lieutenant.
“No idea, but she’s been persistent. I threatened to hang her whole clan from a bridge by their tails, but she’s still clogging up our line.”
“Ah, give me the datapad,” he said, extending his paw. “Maybe she doesn’t believe your threats. She’ll believe mine.”
She handed it over. As he accepted the call, Zaernust examined the female on the screen. There was a thin band of uneven fur in her wavy silver mane, but he couldn’t tell if that was something he gave her from the explosion or a deliberate stylistic choice.
“This is Zaernust,” he said, activating the microphone. “I understand that my associates have properly communicated the consequences of annoying us, Eupprio?”
“You cub of a Grass Eater!” she snarled. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did.”
“Careful now, Malgeirgam outsider. There’s nothing you can prove to a court,” Zaernust cautioned.
That was not technically true. What was true was there was nothing she could prove to a local court… that hadn’t been bribed or had their clans threatened by him.
He continued his threat, “And I know where you live. I know where your whole clan lives. Don’t think I can’t reach you just because they’re offworld. We have connections in every system—”
“Oh, you do?” Eupprio said sarcastically. “You know where I live?!”
“Sure I do. And I don’t think I like your tone, executive.”
“My bad,” she continued in an equally grating tone. “You know where I live. I should be scared of you.”
“You should. Perhaps you have not heard—”
“Should I?” He saw her turn her head to look at the screen from another angle, as if trying to peek out of the datapad. “That looks like a nice dinner. How’s your drink?”
Zaernust frowned in confusion at the non-sequitur. “My drink? Huh?”
“Your soda. My company imports a lot of it into Datsot.”
He guffawed. “And you think your obscene wealth gives you any power over me? Must be odd for you… dealing with someone that all your credits can’t do anything about. Guess what? I can find another soda supplier any time I want. It’s not like the recipe is some state secret from the Terrans.”
Eupprio stared at him without changing her expression. “No, it’s not. In fact, the recipe’s been public forever.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point—”
“For the regular version of the soda anyway,” Eupprio added.
Zaernust tilted his head. “Regular version?”
“Do you know what the biggest public health problem the Terrans had about a century ago?”
“Terran health… problem?” Zaernust asked uneasily as he downed another cup of the delicious, sweet soda. His stomach groaned briefly, and he felt the aftertaste came back up into his mouth. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… odd.
“Yes. Obesity. Heart problems, blood sugar levels, joint issues… All related to eating too much.”
Zaernust licked his nose. “That’s strange. Why didn’t they simply eat less?”
“Have you had Terran food?” Eupprio asked, a hint of amusement flashing across her face.
He refilled his cup and downed the delicious soda again. “Point taken, but what do Terran health issues have to do with you being annoying?”
Grumble, grumble. His stomach made another odd noise as more of the sweet aftertaste came up in a burp.
“Before they put anti-obesity drugs in their water supply to get rid of these issues, you know what they did to address it?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course he didn’t know. She continued, “They made these different versions of their food, using components that were almost equally as delicious, but they didn’t contain as many calories as the original, if they had any calories at all. For example, diet soda.”
Zaernust’s stomach was grumbling non-stop now. And as Eupprio kept lecturing on with that dangerous, confident expression on her face, he was getting more and more anxious.
“Diet… soda?”
“Yes, diet soda,” she said, nodding. “Now, most Terran foods are perfectly safe for us to consume…”
At that, his heart sank. He’d threatened enough people with creative methods of death to know where this particular thread of conversation was going.
“But… there is one particular compound, that when consumed in large enough quantities, is extremely bad for our species. It’s an artificial sweetener called… xylitol. It’s very sweet, making it perfect for use as a substitute sugar in certain sugary drinks.”
Zaernust hurriedly picked up one of the empty red and black aluminum cans on his table and squinted to read the small text, searching for the exotic alien name with his very limited grasp of Terran language. He swore he could feel his vision blur even as he skimmed through the lengthy list of chemical ingredients.
Eupprio continued, as if not noticing his growing panic. “After they fixed their obesity issues, the Terrans stopped needing substitute sugars, and they stopped producing as much of it. But… some stocks do still exist for connoisseurs, and some people simply enjoy the taste. Say, are you panting more than usual, Zaernust? Is your heartbeat feeling regular?”
Zaernust closed his mouth to hide his rapid breathing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest harder than it’d ever done.
“What— what does this xylitol do?” he asked in a small voice, his ears ringing.
“It’s perfectly safe for humans. For us, well… it depends on how much you’ve had. A couple sips is a recoverable accident — you’d just need to get your stomach pumped,” she said nonchalantly. “But a can or two… and you’re looking at rapid liver failure, heart failure… nothing good even if you do escape death. Any more than that, you’d be lucky to have an open casket funeral. I heard a few of our people in the Republic had sporadic incidents. Their hospitals know the symptoms, so they know how to deal with it. And since they know it’s dangerous to us, it’s generally restricted for export out of Sol… unless, of course, you have Terran engineers on your staff who like the vintage stuff.”
“What did you do?” he asked desperately, feeling a sharp pain in his stomach even as he asked.
“When I saw a certain shipping manifest…” Eupprio sighed dramatically. “These accidents and shipping mix-ups do happen from time to time, you know?”
“You— you—”
“Call the doctor!” his lieutenant yelled, sprinting out of the room. “We need a doctor!”
Eupprio stared at him through the datapad. “Why did you do it? Why did you try to blow me up? It’s not like you can take over my business. The Terrans won’t work with someone like you. Even if they’re okay with your shady activities, which some of them are, they weren’t going to trust you after what you tried to do to me.”
Zaernust doubled over in pain as his stomach grumbled non-stop. “I can’t—”
“Is it the Grass Eaters? The Znosians?” she asked, leaning into the datapad.
“I can’t tell— tell—” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he threw up a puddle of the spicy liquid onto his very expensive carpet.
“What are they? Paying you? Threats to your life?”
Zaernust stuttered as he choked on the foam coming up from his digestive system, “It was just— just business!”
“Who was it? How did they get to you?”
“I can’t tell—”
“You’re dying anyway. Be a Malgeir! For once in your life, be a Malgeir!” she yelled.
Zaernust doubled over as another bout of sharp pain struck his midsection. “It’s— it’s— they have a hibernation ship half a light year out from Datsot”
“How do you talk to them?”
“Fuel— fuel deliveries,” he gasped as he threw up another mouthful of sour diet soda onto his carpet. “One of our orbital fuel ships on the dark side has a one-time code book with them…”
Eupprio sat back, nodding with a seemingly satisfied expression. “That should narrow it down enough for the Terrans to search.”
Hyuk. Hyuk. Hyuk. Blaaarrrrgh.
This time, it was almost half a cup of soda coming out of his nose. And Zaernust could almost swear he tasted metal on his tongue.
“Where’s the doctor?” he whimpered to himself as he panted heavily, leaning into his table.
“Busy,” Eupprio said, grinning a wide grin at him. “As are all the emergency services in your area who have been instructed specifically not to respond to something at your address at the moment. What were you saying about my cold, hard money?”
“Please… I didn’t mean— it was just business. Eupprio, please… You have to understand!” Zaernust begged.
Eupprio’s grin disappeared, and she glared at him coldly. “No, I don’t understand. I like money, and I do business, but never! Never have I betrayed my species like you have. Not for money. Not for anything.”
“Please…” he whined again.
“After you tried to kill me, I went to the Terrans. My friends on Mars have this thinking machine; it sees everything, it knows everything. I already guessed it was either you or those buffoons in Stoers, but the machine looked at a slice of Datsot communications traffic and came up with all the proof I needed in half a millisecond. And it said you were probably getting paid by Grass Eaters. Then, it generated for me a thousand methods of revenge, complete with your whereabouts, your schedule, your weaknesses… your eating habits. It suggested all kinds of painful ends for you… You’re lucky Abe or Fleguipu weren’t seriously injured; I would have slaughtered your entire clan.”
“Please… no— hup… Eupprio…” Zaernust hiccupped. “I have a hup— I have a clan. I have— hup, I have a six-year-old cub!”
“Do you even realize how monumentally hard you screwed up?” Eupprio tilted her head as her voice turned harsh. “I make weapons and warships, you dumb fuck. And all my friends are people who make weapons and warships. And all my clients are people who actually use those weapons and warships. The piles of Znosian bodies that can ultimately be traced back to me would make me the… top five… maybe top three killers in the entire Federation. Why do you think the Grass Eaters wanted you to kill me so badly?”
His hiccupping got worse as he sobbed. “I didn’t realize— hup— I didn’t—”
“Alas, luckily for you,” Eupprio sighed after a moment. “I’m not a total psychopath like you. So… I’ll let this simply be a lesson to you.”
Zaernust sat up, hope in his eyes even as he sucked in shallow breaths. “Huh? Lesson?”
“You’ll report yourself to the authorities. And you’ll ask for ten years in prison, which is way less than you deserve. In fact, you’ll bribe them for it and pay for the stay. And if your people on the outside don’t screw around with my fuel source, my people on the inside won’t shank you in the showers.”
“I’ll do anything! Is there— is there an antidote… for this xylitol poison?” Zaernust asked hopefully through his tears. “Please?”
Eupprio looked at his pitiful face for long moment and then broke into a giggle. “Xylitol’s not toxic for us, you idiot.”
“What? But my stomach…” Zaernust’s voice trailed off even as he sat back up and stared at the puddles and mess he made all over his carpet and dining table.
“You drank like twenty cans of soda in a single meal. Of course you’re going to have a stomach ache and vomiting and hiccups, and your own brain invented the rest! Bahahahahah! Your face!”
“But— but—”
“Look at your face!” she laughed in pure delight, wiping a tear off her face with the back of her paw. “Oh, that almost made it all worth it.”
“I didn’t— What— No! You can’t— hup— you can’t just do this to me!” Zaernust stomped his feet paws in frustration.
Eupprio stopped laughing and looked at him severely. “I was serious about that reporting to jail thing, by the way. I own your district. I’ll know if you don’t do exactly as I ordered.”
“But prison! Ten years!” he whined. “That’s— hup— that’s forever!”
Eupprio pointed a claw at him through the screen. “And if I ever hear your name again after today, the next thing that’s going to come for you isn’t going to be hiccups and diabetes. It’s going to be a fucking Raytech hypersonic bunker buster from my assembly line through your front window. We don’t play on the same level, asshole. This was your only warning. Now, get out of my face; I’m going to go get more Grass Eaters killed.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Crete, Slasograch (2.4 Ly)
POV: Carla Bauernschmidt, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Rear Admiral)
Carla watched the organized chaos calmly as her fleet completed their final preparations before blink.
Speinfoent tapped her on the shoulder. “Call from Atlas. Fleet Admiral Amelia Waters.”
“I’ll take it here,” she said, activating her console. “Fleet Admiral?”
Amelia’s voice came through. “Any last minute issues with the operation, Admiral?”
“No. I just got a solid green from all my squadrons.”
“Good,” Amelia said. Carla could hear her take a deep, pained breath through the audio call. She continued, “Did you hear about what the Buns did? McMurdo, Gruccud, Datsot, Malgeiru…”
Carla nodded. “Good old hybrid war. Our old SRN friends’ M. O. except with the combined resources of six hundred star systems. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did they catch who did it?”
“He died on the shuttle. We rolled up a few small collaborator cells operated by one of their underground networks near Gruccud city, but…”
Neither of them said anything for a moment. “I heard the Malgeir lost a whole spaceport right on Malgeiru.”
“Yup. And six power stations in their capital. And that’s just one city. The assholes can do this all day. The Buns have no shortage of resources or people they can threaten. And they’re not going to stop until we stop them. If we go through with the phased armistice agreement that’s being discussed in the Senate, well… I don’t have a good feeling about what happens after.”
“We’re still doing the armistice? I thought people would—”
“People are pissed. I’m pissed. We’re not having peace with them today or tomorrow. But remember, our enemy thinks in centuries. So, we have no choice but to consider as far in advance. We can’t count on the Republic to be ready to fight a war longer than it has existed. The nature of this threat is not new, but yesterday, we have been reminded of how adaptive the enemy has become. Therefore, we must adapt even more rapidly.”
Carla raised an eyebrow at the sharp tone. “Are there to be any— any major additional objectives in our campaign?”
“No. But there will be a slight… clarification for your rules of engagement.”
“A— a clarification?”
“Affirmative. Admiral Carla Bauernschmidt: in the coming operation, you and all those who report to you are ordered to follow all the laws of the Republic and the Republic Navy Code of Justice…” Amelia’s blue eyes stared straight into the screen without blinking, and she continued coldly, “But no more consideration than that is necessary.”
Carla sucked in a deep breath as her eyes went wide. “No more consideration than…”
Amelia nodded and said softly, “Yes, Admiral. Do you understand your mission? Read it back.”
No more consideration than the laws of war…
There was a good half minute of silence on the call before Carla trusted herself to reply, “Yes, Fleet Admiral. I read back: the scope of our operation will be limited only by the capability of my fleet and the laws of the Republic.”
Her heart skipped a beat until Amelia nodded again to confirm her response. “Spot on. Good luck, Admiral. Make them remember. Atlas, out.”
Speinfoent stepped up next to her as the screen dismissed itself. He cleared his throat. “Is that— does that mean what I think it means?”
Carla turned to look him in the eye. “It means… that when we are done, they’ll know it— they’ll feel it in their hearts. This lesson — they won’t be forgetting this in the long history of their people.”
He glanced sideways at the simulation computers with the latest exercise results still displayed on the screens. He agreed softly, “No, I don’t think they will.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Comments
Thomas McCubbin
It's on like donkey Kong!
Bradiation
Technically the laws of war would include all treaties signed, so when they say you need to follow the laws of the republic, wouldn't that mean that she'd have to follow all the same rules anyway?
Ark
Dresden 2 electric boogaloo
M
Eupprio can be scary Oo So much escalation... The Znosians have no idea what they are unleashing...
Valdis Trautmanis
Oofff.. It's on now!
InsertNameHere
Oh boy, the gloves are off now
