Memory transcription subject: Estala, Prestige Extermination Officer, Zadalla Colony Clean-Up Leader
Date [standardized human time]: February 2nd, 2134
I tossed the datapad onto the desk, not even bothering to introduce myself as I strode into the office. Ghelsim had long since lost his aura of respect and reverence, my many years as part of the organization allowing me to see behind the curtain of his falsehoods. I used to believe all the claims of greatness that the man had done in his career, but now I believed them all to be propaganda and exaggerations. The Exterminator looked shocked as I entered, giving a startled jump as the electronic device hit the desk.
“This is the combined report of the Zadalla and Ayyakia clean up: findings, results, and my recommendations for changes to training and guidelines with regard to future colony clean-up efforts.”
Two new badges adorned my uniform, shining in the office light as I stood there in front of Ghelsim, each representing a new colony I’d successfully helped clean up; Zadalla and Ayyakia, both joining the two I’d aided with previously and my Prestige Exterminator rank. I watched as the leader of the Nishtal guild picked up the device I’d tossed on his desk and started skimming through the information I’d gathered. Frankly, I was surprised he was even here to begin with: I’d landed back on the planet rather late in the day, so seeing Ghelsim still here was a surprise.
“I’m guessing by your reaction your attempts were successful, Estala?”
The Krakotl sounded tired as he spoke, his voice almost distracted as he gave what I’d spent the best part of three years creating a glance, no sign of his normal pleas for me to ignore the rules and do what was ‘easy’ compared with what was ‘right’. I felt a small tingle of suspicion that something was wrong, that I pushed to the back of my mind.
“You can say that. Using the official guidelines and documents as a base, I was able to reduce risk while protecting the herd during both campaigns. While there was some initial pushback at such… ‘harsh’ leadership, the results speak for themselves. The average casualty rate of a colony clean up is roughly 9%. Over both Zadalla and Ayyakia, we suffered 6.”
I watched as a tired Ghelsim gave a small head tilt of appreciation at my words, giving a small chirp of acceptance as they finally seemed to give me a little bit of attention.
“That’s not bad. A 50% reduction.”
“No you misunderstand me, sir. Six casualties in total.” I said it with a small measure of arrogance, enjoying the shock on the Krakotl’s features as I spoke. “Three officers were lost due to a failure in communication on Zadalla, causing the threat level of a predator den to be underestimated. One Sivkit officer because of the toxicity of previously unknown plant life. One Krakotl on Ayyakia due to flying in strong winds, and a Takkan suffering a heart attack. Unrelated, was a previously unknown medical condition.”
Even with the mistake on Zadalla, it had been a success, a surprisingly easy one of that. Who would have thought that actually following the rules would provide positive results. Ghelsim seemed to take a deeper look at my report, clear surprise in his eye as he did so.
“How did you manage that?”
“I condensed the overly wordy and propaganda filled rules into a series of easy to understand rule sets and procedures. After a small amount of training and sending anyone home who was unwilling to get with the new program, the two colony clean-up efforts… were simple. If I’m speaking freely here: While predators are evil monstrosities sent by Maltos, they are still animals, lacking the capability for rational thought. They can be easily beaten and believing otherwise is counter to that goal.”
I waited for Ghelsim’s response. I was going to push this regardless, but I was expecting a standard cowardly reply to push for the status quo, anything to avoid doing any additional effort. Just keep gliding on by like the guild had done for years.
“This is good work. Good job.”
That… that was not the reply I expected. Said in a slow resigned voice, Ghelsim looked like he was exhausted. Something was off. Confused, I pushed ahead.
“That it? No push back to tell me to ignore the rules and pick the easy way?”
I couldn’t help but let the sarcasm and annoyance enter my voice, to which the Krakotl just gave a tired sigh.
“Estala, I’ve worn this uniform for 37 years. I’ve seen people like you before, and the simple fact of the matter is it never ends well. You believe that you’ve found a new revolutionary method or tactic, like so many before you, but things don’t change as easily as you’d like to believe. Anyone who’s witnessed a stampede can attest that the larger the herd, the harder it is to change its direction, and there is no herd in the galaxy larger than the Federation. If you obsess over it too hard, that’s how predator disease starts, and then you’ll be just another Exterminator delusional enough to try and pass ideas along through correctional facility staff.”
I watched Ghelsim’s tired expression, his age more apparent now than it had ever been. I’d heard about his feats as an Exterminator, earlier in his career. After meeting him I’d assumed they were exaggerations, but now, here alone with a matter of clarity, I started to believe that maybe they weren’t.
But why? What happened to cause him to give up, and accept our current status so easily?
“I have to try. This could save lives, protect the herd. You can see the results yourself!”
“I’m not saying don’t. I’m just saying be careful and don’t expect too much. You’re a good Exterminator and the Nishtal guild would rather not lose you. Maybe with a few more people like you, we wouldn’t have the current Venlil Prime crisis.”
I gave a confused trill in response. I’d only just got back within communications range of Nishtal earlier that day, but now there was a crisis? I didn’t know much about the Venlil, just that they were one of the weaker races of the Federation, meaning their Exterminators were overall subpar when compared with the more aggressive Krakotl or Gojid defenders of the herd.
“Crisis?” I couldn’t help but ask, my current project pushed aside in my mind as this new problem made itself apparent.
“The Venlil Prime Exterminator force messed up, followed by the local PD facilities messing up. Severely. They sent someone to a facility without a single proper check, and it turns out the facilities there are… something else.”
Ghelsim handed me the pad he’d been reading, as I quickly began to skim the information: Venlil called Tarlim, listed height was…. No that couldn’t be correct, photo shows him… by Inatala that is one big Venlil! Facility treatment was… oh boy, that’s not to the rules, that’s not to the rules at all! The document was also missing the empathy test that was presumably done. Unless…
“Wait, did they diagnose someone without an empathy test?”
I asked the question incredulously, not wanting to hear the answer. I knew a lot of Exterminators tended to skip the second required test, or incorrectly apply the wrong parameters to subjects, but to completely skip one?!
“Yeah, claimed that they couldn’t find a headset that fit, not that that’s an excuse. The guild got sued, hard, and they fought back instead of admitting their mistake. The facility was closed, but even still there’s been a major spike in anti-Exterminator attitudes on Venlil Prime. We all know the danger that can cause.”
“You push away the Exterminators and you invite Predator Disease. It starts with distrust of Exterminators and ends with the entire community being tainted.” I didn’t even need a rule to remember that, everyone knew this was a fact. “How did they mess up this badly? Did they actively go out their way to break every rule and regulation? How are we even supposed to help them?”
Ghelsim gave another sigh, slumping over in despair.
“That’s the problem. Realistically we need to send someone over, someone with some reputation, to train up the Venlil and reinstate public trust. However, nobody really wants to go to Venlil Prime. The place kind of sucks: No Day/Night cycle, heavy gravity, and their most common alcohol is basically warp fuel.”
That did sound like a less than ideal assignment, although… an idea started to form. This was the kind of thing I fully supported, showing people how to be better, more compliant Exterminators. If I set my nest right, I could use this to get an advantage.
“I’ll do it. You know I’m a stickler for the rules, and having the hero of Voyak appear will help to keep public perception up. But in return, I want you to push for these colony process reforms. There’s a better shot that this catches on if you’re on board as well, and I think this could do some real good.”
“I.. I can agree to that. I just need anyone to go to Venlil Prime at this point. Are you sure you’re fine doing it? It’s going to be several years to make sure the training and public perception sticks.”
I pause for a moment, thinking my options through. It made sense, the next step in my career, an entirely new organization to help improve for the good of the herd and the Federation. And Venlil or not, they were still good, honest prey.
“What’s the worst that can happen?”.
—------------------
Memory transcription subject: Joseph Adler, Head of research for the ‘Predatory Pest Control on Skalga’ project.
Date [standardized human time]: March 9th, 2137
“It’s not that simple. You can’t just tear up the entire system.”
The train was relatively busy, the carriage filled with a variety of strange and wonderful species as the transport sped through the capital city at high speed, picking up and dropping off its passengers as the day- sorry paw came to an end.
“It’s hardly a system though, is it? What good do they even do that you need to keep them around?”
I stood next to Mike as he responded to my rebuttal, quietly talking with each other in the crowded space. I’d met the boisterous man many years back during a heavy metal festival, and by luck had had it, both of us had moved into the same refugee centre. While I’d moved out of that location and in with a very sad but good-hearted giant bird, our work schedules meant we occasionally took the same transport back during our commute back to our abodes.
This was how the two of us were having a discussion, a regular one I’d had with a lot of people over the last few months, generally brought up from my current living condition: The role of the Exterminators. Several months ago a very distraught Krakotl by the name of Estala had taken up a conversation with me during one of my many walks in the Venlil wilderness. An Exterminator who had been going through some… issues.
I’d later learned the poor Krakotl had been trying to get me to eat her in order to both ‘cleanse her own predatory taint’ and to catch a human on camera giving into their instincts. Unsurprisingly, this didn’t happen, although I had accidentally shattered her world view during our discussions, in a ‘Joseph certified oops’ moment.
For the last three months I’d been living with her, being glad to move out of the refugee centre and to have a new friend to lean on during this difficult time. This had confused several people, -scratch that, borderline everyone- considering what Estala’s job was.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Also considering what had happened.
“The Exterminators do fulfil a purpose, as scattered as it is. They’re a weird mix of law enforcement for violent acts, animal control and military defence. I’m not saying it’s great, but there’s nowhere else in society that deals with these problems”
“Then just replace it with something better. They already have a police force.”
Calling them a police force was… generous. The entire impact of the Federation fear response in the Venlil culture was everywhere, including in their secondary law enforcement. I’d heard a lot of rants from Estala regarding the newly appointed solo police force in Dawn Creek flat out disconnecting calls regarding inebriated humans.
“The issue is the people who joined those jobs previously did so to avoid that work, none of them want. You used to be a janitor right?”
“My job title was Senior Hygiene Specialist!”
I raised a judging eyebrow to Mike’s explanation, also noticing a few other nearby Venlil taking a little more interest in our conversation. I imagined it was an oddity to see a human take my position: That it was easier and more likely to overall succeed if you just reformed the Exterminators instead of tearing it all down.
“So a janitor. Well, what would you do aliens came down and stated, with pure logic, that your job also included nuclear waste material? Since it’s all part of what they consider ‘cleaning’.”
Honestly, the cultural human aversion to nuclear waste was less than the Federation’s aversion to ‘predatory’ actions. Every action they took was one where it was clear the idea of individuality and breaking from the herd was literally a disease. It made sense considering what the Venlil once were, what the Federation didn’t want them to be.
“I'd quit, obviously.”
“What do you think the police here will do if violent crime is suddenly added to their responsibilities?”
I saw Mike start to respond, before going silent for a moment, realizing in a moment that you’d end up with no law enforcement at all.
“... Well, can't they just hire new people willing to do it?”
“They did, and they're all in the Exterminators. You'd basically tear down the building to rebuild it just down the road with a new name.”
“What's so wrong with that? Maybe call it something that doesn’t stand for setting fire to people?”
I could hear the anger, the annoyance in Mike’s voice, becoming a little more animated as he spoke. That was always going to be the problem, wasn’t it? The Venlil overall had a positive view of the Exterminators due to their childhood, regardless of the latest revelations, while humans as a whole would never see them as anything other than pyromaniacs.
“You’re forgetting that the Exterminators brand has value here. While I have many problems with the name myself, especially as an ecologist, for the people on the planet it’s an institution. That has value.”
“What value? As far as I’m concerned, the Venlil I talk with also all want the Exterminators gone as well.”
I shake my finger at that. A simple answer there.
“You’re working with a biased sample. People who interact with us are going to, on average, be less pro-Exterminator. You’ve seen the culture. There are toys, TV shows, national holidays around the organization. Based on the last election, at least 50% of the population still supports them.”
It was always an issue with these kinds of things: The kind of person who still fully supported the institutions they grew up with tended to avoid talking with humans. It was important to not fall into an echo chamber of “new view” aliens.
“Why should we care about what some racists who hang onto an old organization care about?”
“Because long term, we want people still stuck under Federation concepts to leave them, not get metaphorically dragged away kicking and screaming. Replacing or even renaming the Exterminators is going to be seen as humanity meddling with people who they’ve seen as protectors from a young age. It’s far easier to convince them to change if the institutions they trust are reforming towards that goal.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. He clearly wanted to say something, but I could see it in his expression: my points were sound.
“Maybe if they could speed up their change, that would be great.”
I gave a smile and a small tired sigh. Change. That’s all that had been happening over the last year for all parties involved. ‘May you live in interesting times’ was a curse that the entire universe was suffering from.
“They are. The change we’re seeing to Venlil culture is blisteringly fast. Remember, a mere 8 months ago humans were the only intelligent species in the universe, and the concept of a surviving human was a myth to scare children with.”
“The myth is… 8 months? I… has it only been 8 months? It feels like…”
I saw Mike falter, stopping for a moment as he realized just how… little time had passed. It felt like this new normal had lasted forever, but the reality was everyone in the universe was still reeling from the changes to all cultures.
“Years? I know the feeling. The fact is for where we started from and where we are, things have changed immensely. Don’t you remember the first time you took the train mere months ago?” To punctuate my point I gestured to the crowded train carriage around us. ”Now instead of cowering in fear from two unmasked humans, we’re jammed in a crowd of them while several Venlil keep trying to listen in on our conversation.”
I could hear a few embarrassed beeps and bleats as several of the closer Venlil turned a shade of orange, each one making an effort to stare more intently out the window or at their own personal pads.
“I do miss the extra legroom…”
“My point is, you don’t get meaningful change by tearing everything down unless you really need to. Change isn't done through young adults with suspiciously great hair on a battlefield, giving a speech about how everything is going to be great now that they overthrew the entire government. It’s done through slow, steady change, getting a little better every day. It’s far easier to reform the Exterminators than to destroy it and attempt to rebuild from nothing.”
It was a well argued point I felt, that drove the point home: Don’t allow perfect to be the enemy of good. Mike however gave a mischievous grin in response, his voice turning mocking and teasing as he spoke.
“I mean, you are a little biased considering your Krakotl Exterminator girlfriend-”
“For the last time, I am not in a relationship with Estala! Why do people keep thinking that? You can be friends with someone without being in a relationship, and I’m 100% not into giant birds.”
It was now my turn to turn red, embarrassment running through my body as yet another person accused me of being a xenophile. I held my face in my hands as Mike started softly singing, continuing his teasing.
“Joseph and Estala, sitting in a tree. K.I.S.S.I.N.G. First comes love, then comes Marriage, then comes the egg in the Krakotl carriage!”
“Oh shut up you-!”
I gave Mike an exacerbated look, a few other Venlil giving concerned glances towards the weird pair of humans, suggesting it was time to calm down. Mike took this hint, sincerity entering his voice once again.
“But yeah, gotta be honest, it was a little crazy hearing you decide to move in with one of the pyros.”
“Estala is a good person. A little unsure of herself and needs a lot of therapy, but who doesn’t after everything? She’s been a little bit of stability for me over the last few months.”
“Yeah, the last few months have been crazy. You doing OK?”
You doing OK?
How do I respond to a statement like that? How would anyone be doing in my situation? London was gone, nothing more than atoms scattered to the winds. The little coffee shop with the overpriced muffins that I used to study at was gone, the countless museums, the walk down the River Thames: all gone.
They’d given me my doctorate. Not earned, given. Technically my name was Dr Joseph Adler, but using that felt wrong, as I never got to defend my thesis. The final document was still sitting on a secure cloud server somewhere, awaiting an event that would never happen. The university where I’d been getting my PhD was nothing more than just a memory, along with most of the people I’d met while studying there.
None of that was the worst of it.
I was enjoying my time on Skalga. Even near the beginning, back when every single person would flee in terror at my mere presence, back when what counted for law enforcement here would grip their flamethrowers tighter as I walked past. No, not even that could dampen my spirits at the sheer wonder of walking and interacting on an Alien planet, with alien culture and alien fauna. I’d see something cool, or Estala would do something adorable, and immediately I’d want to text the info back home.
Then I’d remember. There was nobody to send a message to. Part of my brain couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that they were gone. That at any moment now the parents who raised me, the older sister I’d always looked up to, would call me or respond to my long unanswered messages, and we’d chat about how crazy the universe is. Then everything would be fine again.
It never would be.
The last time I’d seen them was right before I boarded the shuttle off of Earth. I’d been given refuge on Skalga, presumably because of my degree. They’d also been offered the same, but were unable to take it because of Vanessa’s condition: the heavy gravity wouldn’t work for her.
They told me it would be fine, to have fun, to not worry about them. The last time I’d spoken with them was right before the battle of Earth, as they were planning to enter the bunkers. Their only thoughts were making sure I didn’t worry too much about them, that ‘everything would be fine’. I kept thinking about those moments, a desperation to go back and never leave Earth, as if somehow remaining would have changed anything, the guilt of leaving them behind.
You doing OK? How do I even respond to that?
“Yeah, I’m fine, busy with work.” I respond after a moment, deflecting and leaning into my British upbringing to pull away from a serious conversation I wasn’t ready to have yet. “The cat project is going swimmingly, a lot of success there”.
I wasn’t even lying about that last part. The Venlil ecology was so messed up by the Federation teaching the Exterminators to set fire to anything and everything, that adding cats of all things bloody improved the environment. It was crazy, interesting as hell, and worth its weight in scientific papers. Once I’d finished my paper on the positives impacts of the commonly derided environmental addition of domesticated felines in a predatorless ecological system, that’s when I would use the title “Dr”.
“Really? Venlil aren’t freaking out?”
I gave a small laugh at that, glad to have successfully steered the conversation to lighter topics.
“Cats are going to conquer the Venlil like they conquered humans. Right now, there are two main reasons for the program failing on a farm. The first one’s what you’d expect.”
“Something something predatory actions?”
That was understating it. I’d spent a lot of time having to rush over to various farms to collect a cat due to a Venlil freaking out the first time a cat ‘left a gift’ to their owners.
“Yeah. The second most common reason is they didn’t let the cats out of their house. The amount of times I’ve had a Venlil tell me, with no shred of irony, that they were ‘Worried about them getting hurt outside’ was not a problem I was expecting to have. I swear, half of those cats are living in better, more pampered conditions than I am.”
Mike let out a snort of amusement. “I guess the power of kitties is universal.”
I felt the train start to slow as it approached my stop, more Venlil getting ready to leave the transport along with myself. The Venlil pointed their tails towards the now opening door, but I settled using my fingers instead.
“Well this is my stop, was a good chat like always. Tell Mama Nyx at the centre I said hi!”
“And tell your Krakotl Exterminator Girlfriend hello as well!”
I didn’t entertain that last statement with an answer, instead flipping Mike the bird as I walked off the train, rather glad that nobody else would know the real meaning behind such a obscene move. I couldn’t help but feel my spirts lifted by Mike, regardless of his teasing. I couldn’t help but feel good in general as I walked along the strange curved streets of Dayside city, the novelty of living on an alien planet never having worn off.
The fact that nobody seemed to care any more about a ‘unmasked predator’ roaming the streets also helped my mood. No matter what people said, things were clearly on an upwards trend in the universe, the absolute mess the Federation had left gradually being reversed. Acceptance of humans was becoming commonplace even in remote areas of the planet, the Exterminators were trying to reform, and no matter my personal situation, I couldn’t help but feel a level of optimism.
I entered the apartment block where Estala and I lived, getting in the lift to travel the ten stories to the top of the building; The Krakotl obviously having no problems or finding any inconvenience in being that far from the ground floor. I couldn’t help but have my thoughts drawn towards the silly, mango loving, very traumatized bird who had offered to host me in their home.
Estala was a strange case: someone who was clearly trying their best in a bad system, a reflection of the tragedy of the mess humanity had found themselves in. She was younger than I was by some degree, yet had gone through experiences I couldn’t imagine. The Krakotl was a key example that even the Exterminators were a victim in this whole messed up situation.
As I opened the door I couldn’t help but feel happy for Estala. She had clearly come a long way and was doing far better than the mess who had nervously approached me in the forest all those months ago. For the two of us life was looking up and getting better.
Or so I thought, as I entered the chaos of the apartment.