Rasvai tried to ignore her twitches of discomfort from being observed as she climbed the final stretch of stairs. Pausing before the door to apartment five, she straightened the loose cloth draped around her waist. Such ridiculous human sensibilities. Wearing the false pelts was a suggestion—one ignored by a majority of arxur—but it was clearly a subtle test of loyalty and obedience to the exchange.
The arxur tapped the small panel beside the door with her claw. A chime rang from within. She'd memorized the entry code and the passkey was tucked away with her other documents. But for the human within’s sake, she would announce herself instead of entering. Once again, her gaze slid over the railing and across the parking lot.
Her escorts lingered by their vehicle, making small talk. They remained to ensure she stopped at the proper apartment—as if the tracker locked around her ankle wasn’t broadcasting her location with every step.
For the next three months, Rasvai would live alongside her Human-Arxur exchange partner. It was a challenge she had resigned herself to. She would be eating her meals here, sleeping here, and spending time between vocational training here. Her station and duties were still being negotiated, but the arxur would follow whatever demands the exchange might make.
Delivering results would earn a greater degree of freedom in human territories. Conditional citizenship. A place to live. A job. Which meant funds to sustain her. To feed herself without being beholden to merit and the favor of a regime.
A difficult concept to wrap her head around. What besides food and shelter did these humans need?
Even if she failed or was forced to withdraw from the second stage of the exchange, she’d already passed muster with her empathy screenings. Returning to one of the processing stations would still leave her far better off than the arxur who were outright rejected. But she had every intention to emerge victorious, no matter the sacrifices it might require.
Hopefully, the exchange would put her broadcasting experience to use. What little research she’d done into humanity’s networks showed the Dominion’s tech was outdated at best. If not, she was strong and had grown up accustomed to long, painful drudgery. There were years of work left to recover from the cataclysmic bombings. Would humans even tolerate working alongside an arxur? Could her pride withstand being ordered around by a superior who was far weaker than her?
Memories flashed, echoing with screams and overlapping scents. A bloodstained shape raked their claws across the—
Rasvai tensed, standing like a scaly statue, breathing slowly. Calm. Showing no outward sign of her defective thoughts, despite the sour note of bile in her throat.
She swallowed and pushed the memory away. It was pathetic to get so worked up, especially over the past. It’d been nothing. Her duty. Passionless labor. A simple task to manage a camera. Keep something in focus. Switch between different viewpoints as her superiors had ordered. Displaying expressions of scorn, support, glee, and fervor, whenever was appropriate.
Years of footage captured, processed, packaged, and broadcast. Prepared like rations and delivered in gluttonous servings on behalf of Betterment.
Rasvai growled and shook her head. She was exhausted, her nerves frayed by the long, stressful day of travel. Such thoughts were nothing but poor hunters, chasing easy prey and pouncing when she was at her weakest.
The click of the door knocked the arxur from her baleful brooding.
It opened, revealing a human female covered in a flowing green pelt. Her brown head fur was tied into a single long bundle. Veins snaked across her pale skin like soft blue waterways, forking and flowing along her neck and arms. Wafts of floral scent surrounded her, substantial enough to make the arxur snort quietly with distaste.
Glass lenses were set over her intense yellow gaze, betraying the kind of genetic weakness that would see her culled or sterilized if she were an arxur.
“Hi Rasvai!” The human gave the alien a wide snarl of excitement.
This was Callie. Her human exchange partner and roommate for the next three months.
They had traded messages for weeks as part of the first stage of the exchange, matched up through responses to questionnaires, tests, and surveys. Though Rasvai was reticent compared to the human, their back-and-forth chats had qualified the pair for the second stage: shared habitation on Earth.
Exchanging pictures and video messages should have prepared the arxur for such a simple encounter. She would greet her, give a “handshake” or polite nod, and enter.
Hesitation froze her in place.
Pathetic.
It was. Doubly so, considering that even if she wished her harm, the human was no threat. She was barely two-thirds Rasvai’s height, unarmed, and looked about as tough as a sivkit. Despite that, the tight band of pressure around the arxur’s ankle pulsed with each heavy thump of her heart as she stood immobile.
The human took no notice of the arxur’s tension. She threw her arms wide and let out a sound of jubilation. “Ahhh! It’s so awesome to finally meet face-to-face!” The human leapt forward and embraced the arxur.
Callie laughed, having trouble reaching around Rasvai’s scaly torso and thick arms. “You’re way bigger than I expected. No wonder the exchange ordered a custom bed.”
Callie patted the arxur’s side and released the hug. She noticed Rasvai’s discomfort and grimaced. “Ah, I’m sorry. You’re probably not much of a hugger. My bad for getting touchy-feely right off the bat.” She stepped back inside. “C’mon in, check the place out! Hope all the travel wasn’t too uncomfortable.” She nearly stubbed her toe on one of the scattered boxes stacked near the door.
“Ack! Sorry my stuff is piled everywhere out here. Wanted to let you snag whatever bedroom you preferred. I’m not picky and everything’s human standard. Whatever works for you is cool by me. Do you like getting some morning light, or are you more of a…um, Rasvai? You okay?”
The arxur was still rooted in the doorway. “I…hello, Callie,” Rasvai growled once she reoriented her thoughts and the human’s barrage of words ended. She lurched forward in a clumsy nod, then turned that into dipping awkwardly beneath the doorframe to follow Callie inside the dwelling.
The arxur turned to shut the door and cast one last glance toward her escorts. She halted again, biting back a curse. One of them, the driver, had their hand raised. Why? Were they demanding she come back?
Worthless fucking defect. You’ve already ruined this. They’re going to drag you out. Cut open your skull. Probe around to find out why they couldn’t train you properly, and then dump your carcass in a ditch to rot.
Callie leaned out from behind the arxur and waved back at the chaperones. “Thanks, drive safe! Condolences if you’re headed back to the shuttle port; that northbound highway’s a real pain in the ass!” Callie shouted across the parking area.
The driver laughed and shouted back. “Nah, last dropoff for the night; thanks though!” Both humans got into their vehicle and pulled away.
Rasvai returned her attention to the apartment’s interior. The central area was filled with flimsy-looking boxes and a few mismatched pieces of furniture. It made the single canvas bag slung over Rasvai’s shoulder seem downright meager.
“Are you hungry? I’m starving. I was thinking we should pick somewhere and—” Focused on Rasvai, Callie tripped over another box and nearly fell. She caught herself and laughed, face flush. “Ack, god dammit. Watch your step, sorry.”
“I was trying to read through the exchange’s material beforehand, but I figured I’d just ask you. Arxur can eat non-carnivore stuff, right? Or does it make you sick?”
Rasvai continued gazing across the room. The common area featured a predictably luxurious spot to sit while viewing broadcasts, as well as a bookshelf. On the opposite side stood an open area covered in countertops intended to store and prepare rations. A stack of colorful pamphlets was piled on one end. Beyond the common area were more private chambers, presumably for sleeping and hygienic purposes. Similar enough to her prior arrangements.
“It depends. Some are poisonous. But I have no desire to chew any leaves,” Rasvai growled. She’d thought their text conversations moved fast. Those were glacial compared to the pace of the human’s nonstop blabbering.
Callie nodded. “Sure, sure, I figured salads were out. But what about spices and stuff? Sauces, oils, anything cooked with aromatics? Mmh, like garlic; have you tried garlic?”
The arxur stared blankly.
“Don’t knock it just because it’s a plant. I dunno what kind of carnivore cooking supplies there are besides like, fat and grease. What do you usually use? Arxur don’t just eat everything plain and raw, right?”
The arxur struggled to absorb Callie’s rapid-fire comments and questions. It was like being poked and jabbed over and over. She swallowed down her reflexive anger, sighing impatiently. “I…do not wish to discuss the Dominion’s rations. Cooking is a pointless formality anyway. Whatever the exchange provides will suffice.”
She pushed inside the first door on the right. Beyond was a spacious room with a shuttered alcove against one wall. Storage intended for human pelts and their many, many possessions. She didn’t bother looking in the other room, dropping her bag inside the doorway to mark her claim.
“Ah. Well, we don’t really have any groceries yet. I just got here too and didn’t want to miss you. There are some exchange-friendly places nearby though. I was looking at this one—”
The arxur growled. It took substantial effort not to lean back and simply shut the door in the human’s face. Social interaction was tedious and exhausting to participate in. But it was a requirement for her new life.
The demands of her screening, interviews, and interactions with Callie had substantially expanded Rasvai’s tolerance for conversation. But in the past sixteen hours, she’d been surrounded by short-tempered humans and arxur agitated by the rigors of travel.
She’d answered endless questions, filled out paperwork, and presented her documents for stamps and seals. She’d been stared at and whispered about on shuttles and in waiting areas. She’d reported in and made calls with her UN liaison regarding the exchange, and spent her time en route to the apartment being reminded about local restrictions and expectations by her escorts while they made “small-talk.” By that point, she’d have preferred sandpapering her scales than participating and had gotten by with grunts.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
And of course, someone had shouted she was a “fucking Nazi baby-muncher” across a crowded gathering area. A significant berth was given to her at all times, as if physical contact would shred anyone who touched her into bloody chunks.
While following her escorts through the shuttleport, someone had dumped a thick substance over the head of a different exchange member—purple paint, an obvious mimicry of thafki blood. “Not so easy to wash off, is it!?” the human had shouted as they were hauled away by security.
And finally, a pair of venlil had noticed the arxur hunched in the backseat. They’d collapsed onto the ground and begun bleating hysterically as if Rasvai had their throats in her mouth. Her driver had apologized to her and complained about tinted windows not being standard.
Rasvai had been too focused on the way the surrounding humans rushed to the prey’s aid, attending and shielding them while directing looks of disgust and anger her way. As if she’d done something besides sitting in stoic silence in the back of a vehicle.
She was done being sociable.
“I have eaten already,” Rasvai lied. “And I am…quite tired. I wish to sleep.”
“You don’t want anything better than airport food?” The arxur flicked her tail in sharp refusal. “Well…okay. Um…your bed still needs putting together, though.” Callie pointed to a bundle of panels, metal braces, and a large rectangular mattress propped against the wall. “If you want, you can relax on the couch for a little while I—”
Rasvai snapped her tail impatiently. “Tomorrow. I need…I am tired.” She put her hand on the door but kept it open. “The floor will do.”
“The floor? Oh c’mon Rasvai, don’t be…” The human’s dismissive tone evaporated as she took in the monolith of muscle and scales in the doorway. Her tense jaw, her twitching tail, the claws gripping a thick leg in subtle fury, the narrowed red eyes. Callie’s next words were more subdued.
“Alright. I’m not your mom; you don’t need me telling you what to do.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “I’ve had a bunch of roommates over the years; I want things to be comfortable for you. So…if you wanna switch rooms, or you need help with any stuff around the apartment, let me know.”
“And I’ve got pretty thick skin. If you need some space, you want me to shut the hell up for a while or just need to ask something—I dunno—controversial about humans. I'm basically an open book.” She smiled. “Okay?”
“Understood, Callie,” Rasvai hissed through her teeth. “Tomorrow, then.” The arxur shut the door and locked it. She could tell Callie lingered on the other side. A soft sigh made it through the flimsy wood. Rasvai stood motionless in the gloom, listening to the quiet grunts and shuffles as Callie began carrying things through and across the hall.
The arxur muttered, “Not my mother? Obviously, you stupid human. She would have delighted in testing that comment about the thickness of your skin.” She imagined her mother looming from behind Callie, wrapping her claws around the human’s throat and—
She tensed again, struggling to push such a thought deep, deep down. Breathing quietly. Evenly. Not showing any hint. Not closing her eyes. Letting the feelings crash over her like water, before draining away like blood down the drain.
Callie passed by again. The soft steps on the carpet and swish of her clothing proved the bloodshed was nothing but Rasvai’s monstrous imagination running wild. The pounding of the arxur’s heart slowed.
Opening the alcove’s shutter revealed empty shelves and storage space for human garments, as she’d expected. She searched the interior, running her claws along out-of-sight ridges and odd angles, and peering into the room’s air vents. No sign of any monitoring devices. She was too exhausted to go tapping on the walls or sniff around for signs of human meddling. Tomorrow, then.
Rasvai stripped the stupid modesty wrap off and curled up against the far wall, using her bag as a makeshift pillow.
What’s wrong with you? Tired from sitting around all day? Upset from being stared at? Pitiful. What are you, a feeble little hatchling again?
Rasvai snarled to herself, unable to keep from releasing her thoughts aloud into the fittingly dark room. “Disgusting defect. Pathetic coward. What a fucking disgrace to the Arxur.”
She let out a miserable hiss as she fed her anger, using it to push the pathetic sentimentality back down where it belonged. “This is beyond anything you deserve, you worthless traitor. It's a miracle you’re not squatting in some ruin or lying dead in a ditch where you belong.”
The teeming mass of arxur defectors and their human overseers lingered in her mind. They’d been reduced to a pack of cowards, defects, and deviants ripe for the culling claw. The crowds were probably thick with loyalists feeding intel and names of traitors back home. That or smugglers looking to make a profit and curry favor. No doubt the corruption in the integration systems was as thick as it ever was in the Dominion.
Rejection from integration or exile from human space was practically a death sentence after all; surely the humans knew that? Especially now that the Arxur had been fractured so thoroughly.
Isif’s Arxur Coalition, Usliff’s Seekers of The True Hunt, the Prophet-Decendant’s fanatical Remnants. Not to mention the territory-grabbing warlords, mercenaries, and pirates roaming the fringes. All fighting for power, control, and survival while the rest of the galaxy watched on and threatened an extermination campaign. As if the Arxur had spontaneously gone mad. As if the prey didn’t have anything to do with the Dominion’s shattered unity.
It was impressive. For all their vocal disgust of the practice of culling, the humans were weeding out the undesirables in their own, cunning way. A superior, more subtle form of Betterment. One that made the survivors pledge themselves to service out of gratitude and allowed them to gorge themselves like never before.
No need for lengthy detainment in Betterment’s facilities. All it took was a scan paired with questions and images that triggered the desired reactions. A test that couldn’t be faked, tricked, or beaten. A way for humans to save the good, and cull the bad.
The same techniques the humans used to reveal “empathetic tendencies” would’ve been a miraculous boon for unveiling “defects” only a year ago. A glance through human, arxur, and prey history told a familiar story: this was simply the newest round of the same game played for eons. And as all three had proven, if you didn’t like what history showed, you could simply bury it in the same graves as the losing side.
Rasvai’s stomach twisted with hunger. The aching emptiness was an all-too-familiar reminder that no matter where she ran, the agonizing rot in her core would remain. Curled up in solitude and silence, her exhaustion took its toll and drew her into a restless sleep.
Scum. Defect. Liar. Deviant. Disgrace. Traitor. Betterment agents hissed the endless refrain in her ears. Mother joined in, her voice filled with twice the disgust.
The drain gurgled, choked with blood. A cold cascade washed the flow of crimson off Rasvai’s shuddering claws. Hollow, red eyes peered back from the mirror as she whispered the truth to herself, her serrated maw flashing in the low light between her strangled sobs.
We’re all nothing but disgusting monsters.
----------------------------------------
Callie sighed as she unloaded another box. She really needed to get rid of some of this baggage.
She’d arranged her furniture how she liked, her bed was made, and most of her clothes organized. Books and decorations shared space on her shelves, and all her work material was stacked up on her desk for when she started again in a few days.
The human leaned out to regard the silent door across the hall.
Callie wanted to step up and knock. Offer her company, try to put some of the arxur’s worries to rest. Rasvai wasn’t some detainee or prisoner, she should sleep on the couch at least. It was arxur-sized for a reason. Did she even have a blanket in there?
But Callie knew better than to be a busybody—especially to a big, cranky alien sleeping off the troubles of her first day on Earth. She had to respect Rasvai’s choices. The arxur was a big girl. She could sleep on the floor if she felt like it. Instead of prying, Callie headed into the living room and flopped lengthwise onto their couch.
She fished the small, covert panic signal from around her neck. All she had to do was yank hard and detach the chain to activate it. Two minutes later, a pair of exchange security would be kicking down doors to retrieve her. Like knights rescuing a damsel from some bloodthirsty dragon, but with tasers and guns instead of swords.
No one who expected a mauling joined the Arxur-Human exchange, but there had still been incidents. “Doesn’t seem like a very nice thing to do to anyone,” she muttered. “If she has some kind of episode, though…poor Varliss. Hope he’s doing okay.”
Careful not to accidentally trigger the panic signal—now wouldn’t that add some excitement to Rasvai’s first day—Callie slipped the necklace off. She set it on the side table, leaned back on their couch, and blew out a long breath.
It was funny; the arxur had been almost exactly what she’d expected given their exchanges and the constant media coverage. Depending on which outlet you listened to, “The Arxur Exodus,” “Predator Invasion,” or “Grey Tide” was all anyone could talk about.
Huge, intimidating, dangerous, tough, alien? Check. Awkward, impatient, abrasive, closed-off? Definitely. But frozen in shock, completely flustered after a hug?
That had been unexpected. And kinda cute.
Callie smacked herself. “Diplomatic exchange program. Not a dating app. Don’t be creepy,” She muttered, pressing her palms against her eyes.
“Thank God she wasn’t naked. Seriously, why are all the aliens naked? How does everyone else just pretend not to care?” She ranted quietly at the ceiling. “Fur covers a lot, but nudist lizards run a media empire! Does no one get embarrassed?”
“They even have clothes, but they give us the side-eye for not letting it all hang out like cavemen. ‘Wearing pelts.’ Like human clothes aren’t almost universally made of natural fibers and synthetic blends.” She massaged her forehead. “Must’ve been some real weirdos calling the shots back in the day.”
Callie chuckled and put on a suitably perverse voice, breathing through her mouth as she mumbled. “Oh um, actually, wearing clothes is considered predatory. So we have to be naked all the time from now on. Yeah, the scientists say so. Why? Um…if you’re not naked, it makes you crave flesh. Everyone should probably strip like, right now.”
Callie glanced again at Rasvai’s door, hoping her rambling wasn’t audible beyond it. “Pants and underwear flying, alien fashion from every species flung all over the streets. Then everyone starts hardcore makin' out.” She snorted. “Bet the UN is keeping that section of The Archives to themselves. Hell of a bargaining chip.”
Her stomach growled. She sighed. She’d held off on anything since lunch, preparing for a massive welcome feast. What kind of arxur didn’t have an appetite?
That all-you-can-eat BBQ place she’d picked out would’ve been perfect. Their website featured a picture of a quartet of gleeful arxur and a trio of humans. The seven of them hunched with exaggerated menace over the equivalent of about half a cow. Meat Tornado BBQ knew exactly who their target customers were. Way to get in on the ground floor.
“Give it a few weeks and I’m sure we’ll be regulars.” Callie got out her phone and pulled up the delivery menu for an exchange-approved Italian restaurant instead. “Cooking is a pointless formality my ass. Welcome to Earth; we’re gonna knock those alien taste buds right back into orbit.”
A big plate of bolognese sounded perfect, and some garlic bread too. Arxur-Style Pancetta Ragu? That seemed Rasvai’s speed.
No matter what she’d said about not being hungry, Callie was certain the arxur would come slinking out of her room to drool over something that looked that good. Thick pork belly, drizzled with sauce, topped with chunks of—Callie gulped.
Maybe she’d sneak a bite or two herself, first. Ought to make sure it wasn’t poisoned or anything, right?