Know Your Allies: Lilhuns
The screen flickered, displaying static and distortion for several seconds as the strange codec of the file was decompiled. Once the task was complete, the image shifted, revealing what looked to be the wall of a classroom.
A white rectangle dominated most of the screen, offsetting the pale grey concrete behind it. A mahogany desk rife with papers sat left of the centre. A worn chair looking to have seen years of use was placed behind it. Subdued chatter in the background suggested that there were quite a few people waiting for the presenter to arrive, the heads of a few drifting out of view as the camera tilted up to correct a low angle. Crude comments were half-mumbled, curious voices pestered others for why they had gathered, and several of the occupants jokingly suggested the ‘doctor’ had died on the way there to explain her tardiness. A door off-screen creaked open, then clicked shut. The clacks of shoes on tile echoed against the back wall.
The woman seemed to be in her thirties, wearing jeans, a sweater, a white coat, and a backpack that was slung over one shoulder. The identification and security pass were blurred until she had the chance to discard them lazily on the table, her bag being unceremoniously shrugged off before it was deposited in the chair. She fixed her glasses, fetched a thermos from the backpack, and brushed her long blond hair away from her face. The rosy tint of her cheeks suggested it had been cold that day. The woman took a sip of her beverage, stretching her back as her eyes peered over the rim of her drink to observe her audience. She looked tired, yet still somewhat interested in who was attending. With a soft clack of aluminum on wood, she removed her coat, tossed it with her bag, stood in the centre of the frame, and took a breath.
“Greetings, everyone. Apologies for being late, but there was a miscommunication regarding scheduling,” she explained with a sheepish smile. A few voices in the quieted crowd offered blase assurances. “Thank you for your understanding. It’s rather awkward to arrange this sort of thing when there are so many hoops to jump through, so I’d like to extend my gratitude for your patience.”
She took a breath, clapping her hands together once she had focused, her apologetic tone replaced by a more firm and authoritative cadence as she stepped aside and gestured to the white backdrop behind her. Several Horizon codes and warnings appeared, most informing the attendees that what was to be discussed was strictly confidential. The woman nodded to the spectators.
“Good evening. My name is Jessica Marks. I am a medical professional specializing in bipedal mammals throughout the Union, and a researcher for Horizon’s new initiative. I was born and raised on Earth before moving to New Ulligard for my doctoral thesis, continued to expand my studies until I reached the qualifications I have today, and have since been relocated to my current assignment, which I left to give this series of presentations at the request of Horizon.”
Jessica smiled, looking across the audience and allowing a small pause for the next frame behind her to appear. ‘Know your allies’ was displayed in a bold font.
“Before we continue further, do keep in mind that although you are still the ones expected to work with the other species we have on our side, the information I will be presenting today will effectively isolate you from the normality you have lived in until now. Friends and family are to be informed that you are going on an extended training exercise, and you will not see, speak, or hear of them until such a time where the fate of humanity does not rest on your cooperation with the aforementioned. I will not fault anyone who wishes to opt out of this assignment; some of you may still have others who depend on you, and others may find the idea of leaving your lives behind too high of a cost. You already keep our organization safe with your secrecy, but please understand that I’m telling you this because it is just that important. This can never leave this room. If any of you wish to leave and return to your normal duties—to your families—you may do so now, and without consequence.”
She chewed her lip as she watched the crowd, a few shuffles and comments indicating that a small number of the participants had taken the offer. The doctor gave a sad nod of acceptance before cycling a breath.
“For the rest of you who want to venture into the unknown, do note that near the end of this presentation, I will be asking those with class three or lower clearances to leave, as there are details of the assignment that qualifying members will need to know, but will only be an extraneous security risk for the rest.”
Seeing that her audience accepted her conditions, she looked over the camera expectantly, smiling once the operator voiced his confirmation. Jessica grabbed her thermos from the desk, took a drink and tapped the board, flicking it to the next slide, images and text accompanying her speech. A stylized picture of two bipedal mammals came up, as well as a row of faces varying in some features.
“I would like to introduce to you the Lilhun: the first ally of humanity that is not officially recognized by the Union.” A flurry of murmurs was patiently endured until the room quieted back down. “Unofficially, they are a race set to be extinguished before anyone knows they ever existed.”
Hands shot up, questions were shouted, and all professionalism was thrown out the window as various attendees vied for attention. The friendly facade dropped from the presenter’s face.
“You will be quiet.”
It wasn’t yelled, there was no weapon, and she only lowered the hand she was motioning with to join the other on her thermos, but her stare demanded silence. Jessica took a drink, her features softening as her request was obliged.
“Good. I understand you have questions, and I am planning on addressing what I am allowed to—assuming I am able—but please wait until you are prompted.”
Mumbled agreements made their way through the group.
“On screen is a rough depiction of their physiology, as well as the variance in facial structure you may come across when interacting with them. Despite the stark contrast between the extremes, they are all of the same race—from DNA, to how they refer to themselves. It is a genetic structural difference that—although seems rather drastic to us—is a rather minor consideration to the species themselves.” She paused, her eyes moving up in thought. “Minor now, I should say. A brief overview of their history will be supplied shortly. The gist is that although they seem quite different, they are functionally the same: digitigrade legs, four digits, long tails, claws, upwards oriented ears, and elongated muzzles. From the more feline structure to the canid, these are the faces of those you will be learning about.”
A snorted comment drew an exasperated sigh from the woman.
“Yes, like that community. We’ll get to it.” She rolled her eyes before loosely flicking her hand to the screen, the image shifting to show the figures from various perspectives, along with some diagrams of musculature. “The Lilhuns are a sexually dimorphic species. Males typically rest within six-four to seven feet tall—or one ninety-three to two-thirteen centimetres. The females are shorter and thinner, sitting at an average of five-eight to six-seven. One seventy-two through two-hundred.”
She glanced up at the diagrams with a smirk. “Extremes obviously exist, but those are what you should be prepared for. Moving from their height, females continue to exhibit the trend of breasts for mammalian species—no, I’m not giving you those averages—and are typically more flexible and lightweight than their counterparts.”
The display changed to show the skeletal structure, Jessica placing down her thermos to point to a cross-section. “As you can see, there are some differences in various tissues and densities, which leads to the species being deceptively light. This isn’t a particularly large divergence, but it is worth noting in the event you are required to carry them for one reason or another. From our scans and provided medical data, you can expect any given individual to weigh about fifteen to twenty percent less than you would expect from their size.”
The next slide showed various colours, patterns, and lengths of fur covering a nondescript Lilhun.
“Their bodies are covered by a dense coat, obviously, but it serves a slightly different purpose than you might suspect. On top of it not being a particularly effective insulator to maintain body temperature, it actually assists in bleeding off excess heat. This comes from their natural habitats being rather hot and arid. The combination of various extra-planetary expansion and orbital drift from their sun has encouraged clothing to propagate within their society, which then became the norm. Due to these features, they excel in naturally high-temperature environments, but require the insulation when dealing with colder climates.
“Minus the visually striking differences, a few of interest are as presented behind me. They are primarily carnivores, but can substitute a small portion of their diet for vegetation. They can’t subsist purely on the latter, however. Their perception of colours is somewhat muted, though they have superior night and telescopic vision. Their hearing is sensitive to sudden, sharp noises, but weak at detecting softer or persistent sounds. As for more demonstrable differences, their reliance on retractable claws and differing musculature has resulted in a vastly different combat doctrine. Their fur and skin are more resistant to slashing and piercing, requiring greater force to be utilized, and they produce high amounts of clotting factors when injured. Perhaps as a consequence, they are quite susceptible to our own methods of self-defence. A human’s body is not designed to punch, but through centuries of doing it anyway, we’ve gotten pretty good at it, and their bodies are ill-equipped to sustain injuries inflicted by blunt trauma.”
She stops in front of the crowd, frowning at something. “You may grin now, but they have shown proficiency with any combat training they’ve been given, and, if the appropriate considerations are in place, can match us. Failing that, they have claws and sharp teeth—though I wouldn’t worry about biting during a fight...”
The doctor cleared her throat and continued her languid walk. “Speaking of things in their mouths: something that works out well for us is their unique biological reaction to blood when ingested. Once the fluid is introduced into their oral cavity, production of numerous clotting factors begins and saturates their saliva—the running theory is that it assisted with consumption and nutrient absorption in their early development. It’s a fairly useless trait for themselves since they are mostly resistant to it, but humans can have large wounds sealed rapidly with just a few licks. Strange, but it’s nice to know in a pinch.”
She stopped to show her disappointment of a few snarky comments, her expression revealing that she only belatedly realized how her segue could be interpreted. She continued once the interruption had been silenced by someone else.
“The last item of note for differences is that their stamina falters when compared to us. They are much faster in a sprint—I believe the fastest they have on record has reached somewhere in the ballpark of forty or so miles-per-hour, assuming they haven’t under-reported—but the duration of that speed is short and takes a long while to recover from. Their bodies are much less efficient in distributing oxygen throughout excessively strenuous activity; if one were to chase you, then you could reliably out-run them...assuming you were outside of their sprint radius. This has influenced combat they historically engaged in, leaning it towards swift, brutal exchanges, where multi-week or multi-month stalemates are nigh unheard of.”
She gestured back to the board, bringing up a dense list of events. “Which brings us to their past. Don’t worry, I’ll keep this surface-level. They are historically a...not a violent species, per se, but certainly combative. From their homeworld of Iras, their people preferred much less dense populations—opting to spread out to allow hunting without interfering with other packs—and skirmishes for territory were quick. Once their numbers began necessitating it, they implemented what are called ‘Grand Hunter’ packs. Simply put: packs were subsumed or eliminated by others, thus consolidating power under individuals with the rank of the namesake. This continued, evolved, then was antiquated with the development of technology, transportation, animal husbandry, then eventual limited space travel.”
“One thing to add before I get too far,” she voiced thoughtfully as the next slide appeared, her finger raising to indicate the aside. “Hierarchy has remained an instinctual part of their society, and with it, something of an honour code. You are to dedicate yourself in service to those above your rank in society, workplace, pack, et cetera, and are expected to provide for or assist those below it who satisfy the first condition. Now, how one interprets those responsibilities is up to the individual, but it’s worth remembering.
“The smallest hierarchy is the ‘den-pack’—a ‘den’ being a term for either a home or the collective of those who you share it with—and can range from a few individuals to low double-digits, depending on circumstance. From there, it’s based on district, city, municipality, so on and so forth. Interestingly, all of this is ingrained within their society and is intrinsically understood; it’s that central to their existence. Anyway.”
Jessica gestured towards the image displayed: a basic diagram depicting stages of weaponry.
“During their early territorial disputes, someone—the name has been lost to time, sadly—discovered gunpowder. This wasn’t a natural evolution in warfare as we know it, because it happened shortly before anyone could get bored with washing blood out of their fur and think about using sticks to launch pointier sticks at people. And, because of a reliance on claws and sharp objects as opposed to throwing things, it happened around the time slings were being tested.”
She shot the audience a grin, shaking her head as if even she was amused by the material.
“They skipped over an entire chapter in human history by developing black-powder firearms before anyone could nail down something else.” The next few slides flicked through rather quickly. “Well, conflicts got more intense for reasons we’re not getting into, weapon technology was prioritized for some time, then an agreement to ‘part ways,’ as it were. This led to migration to neighbouring continents, followed by planets when possible. There was further divergence in innovation following the total avoidance, then a reintroduction between the two some centuries later. Developments were then stolen or traded back and forth during a particularly vicious war of both parties trying to dominate the other. After that didn’t particularly solve the issue, a begrudging agreement to avoid each other was reached, and further expansion occurred separately as needed.”
The image changed to the Union logo, her face growing tense. “Then they got involved.”
Wary voices whispered too quietly for the microphone to pick up, but the clenching fist of the doctor was indication enough of how hated the picture was.
“With the appearance of new intelligent life, the disagreements between the two factions ceased, and they formed what is now the United Military—the blanket governing authority for the Lilhun people that persists to this day. The Union offered advancements in various fields made by numerous species in exchange for any unique developments that the Lilhuns had made, cooperation, and an invitation to join the Union, gaining access to even more planets that were unsuitable for most, but would be acceptable for them.”
The doctor walked to the desk, drinking from her thermos and wetting her lips.
“All they needed to do was offer some civilians to participate in temporary cross-species cohabitation experiments to determine if they were a good fit.” She barked a dry laugh. “Sounds good, doesn’t it? It did to them. They collectively agreed that with such an offer on the table, the factions had no reason to hold onto old grudges. The UM cleaned up its act, punished dissent, and as a singular people, sent what was asked of them.”
The clack of her drink being placed back on the table cut through the room. “What the Union wanted was a species that preferred to stick to their own, would cooperate only as far as they needed to for any particular project, and would listen to them. Lilhuns checked all the boxes, down to ‘following orders of the governing body’ being baked in. Unbeknownst to the UM, the Union had pushed advertisements for workers under various false identities to corral more for their...experiments.”
She drew a breath to stabilize her visibly shaking hands.
“They learned some key details that further encouraged the inclusion of the Lilhuns into the Union; the biggest was that they were a critically co-dependant race.” Jessica dragged the chair in front of the screen, dropping into it and resting her arms on her knees as she gazed wistfully at the attendees. “In other words: they are prone to suicide when isolated.”
A pin drop could deafen anyone in the room, not a single participant willing to draw breath for the moments it took for her words to sink in. Sensing the building reaction, she leaned back in her chair.
“This is expanded on in a moment, but just keep in mind that—unless something has gone terribly, terribly wrong—you will never see a Lilhun by themselves for any real duration. Even the healthiest, most upbeat individual will become depressed, despondent, then self-terminal if alone for too long. This was perfect for the Union, since it encouraged the Lilhuns to stay involved with their own kind; even ignoring the increasing covert operations of a particular organization belonging to their targeted species, they had an optimal candidate to be included.”
The doctor drew a breath, her lips pursing as she looked to the floor, unable to speak louder than a whisper. “And then we happened.”
Images flicked by one at a time, graphic images of the demise many of the Lilhuns met while undergoing the ‘experiments.’ Thankfully, they had been blurred for the purpose of the recording, but those attending the presentation were not quite so lucky. Gasps and retching persisted for several seconds after the screen went blank.
“That was what happened when the Union discovered the bond.” She chuckled darkly, wiping her eyes before looking back at the audience. “Sorry...just...yeah. Anyway, it’s an interesting quirk of the species; their olfactory system is tuned in such a way that they detect even trace amounts of the pheromones secreted during various emotional states—yes, they can literally smell your fear, but that’s not what we’re talking about. The ‘bond’ is something...more. Though only theoretical pieces have been compiled and survived various wars, we know a bit about it. Specifically, under the right circumstances, their bodies can become ‘bonded’ to others, causing sympathetic hormone production in response to their ‘bond’s’ emotions.”
The backboard was filled with the names of various chemicals, diagrams, and assorted emotions that are documented to invoke the production of them.
“Six percent,” she voiced sagely, her head nodding. “Six percent of the population could bond with any one Lilhun. That’s based on potential bonds, rather than any statistical metric that accounts for success rate and the like. In reality, it’s lower. Several factors play into it, but it boils down to genetic compatibility, duration of exposure, and trust—though I have a particular theory after my own research.”
A hand raised cautiously into frame. The doctor smirked joylessly.
“Let me guess: ‘what does that have to do with humans?’” The hand lowered. “Sixty. Sixty fucking percent bonding rate. We are ten times as likely to be a bond, and the Union did not like that. Toss on the fact that their saliva basically becomes an injury superglue for us, and you have a race of people who are all but genetically geared towards forming a close relationship with humanity.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Her voice grew cold. “I don’t need to tell you that is something they want to avoid more of.”
She rolled her chair to the side, tossing an arm out limply in exasperation. “That’s not mentioning the ‘defects’ within the race—a subset of the species that has a rare genetic mutation which renders them unable to read or produce pheromones at all. Want to guess how that goes? They’re stigmatized by their own people as instinctively unattractive, nonviable mates, and they have a one-fucking-hundred percent compatibility rate with a completely different species. Every. Single. One...can find a bond with a human, when millennia of history says they should never find one at all.”
Her hissing slowed, eventually ending when the doctor cradled her head in between her hands.
“How is that fair? Imagine! You’re an outcast at birth, virtually destined to spend your life alone—in a species that finds it worse than death—and now there’s a species that doesn’t care about what everyone else does. Hell, you can have what they’ve titled ‘the Hunt Mother’s gift,’ which was previously such a coveted thing that they have entire religious fables surrounding it, and was something you were supposed to be physically incapable of getting! The best part!? You discover that life might just be worth not killing yourself over, and that your dream-come-true is what sentences your species to extinction!”
A silence lingered after her outburst. Eventually, she cleared her throat again, apologizing before gesturing for the next slide.
“So...yeah. That’s an abridged version of their history up until now. After the Union started their experiments, a defect broke out, blew the place to hell, and brought back enough evidence to convince the UM to prepare countermeasures. Once the Union opened fire, they opened back, and managed to drive them off. The rest is unfortunately classified, but needless to say, we’ve since met and have welcomed them as an ally.”
Her attention came back to the audience, her clenched jaw loosening as she got out of her chair to grab a drink. She smacked her lips and stared at the thermos in her hands, her voice cracking from the remains of her shouting.
“Which brings us to why you’re here. Those in this room will be transferred to classified locations where the Lilhun have just erected new cities. You’ll be there to live with and get to know them. For all the talk of us being ‘allies,’ very few of them actually know anything beyond ‘Horizon’ being some mysterious entity—information control during several strategic events required us to keep things ‘hands off’ until now. In order for this to work, you need to know what you’re working with, and how not to fuck it up.”
She tossed the empty thermos onto her discarded jacket on the floor, smiling at a soft voice asking if she needed a break. The doctor shook her head, thanked them for their concern, and wiped away a tear that had gone unnoticed.
“So, let’s go over that, shall we? Starting with how to interact with others. Due to their hierarchical nature, you’ll hear a lot of ‘one’s and a prefix. It’s highly contextual, but we’ll go over the most common. ‘High one’ is for anyone with a higher standing than yourself, but isn’t a notable leader of the pack structure in question. Those who do have an important rank will be addressed by such, with ‘high one’ being for small gaps in rank. You can usually just call them by name for the sake of conversation, assuming you’re on good terms with them.
“Inversely, ‘low one’ is a reprimand of sorts commonly said by higher ranks; it’s used when someone’s starting to step out of line, typically. This is a warning to stop whatever behaviour caused it, a reminder of your place in the hierarchy, and is rarely ever a good thing to be called. Otherwise, they will use your name or title for the most part.”
She grimaced slightly as she considered something, her head bobbing side to side.
“There are others that are pretty self-explanatory, such as ‘kind’ or ‘amusing,’ but although ’new’ and ‘unknown’ sound interchangeable, they're entirely different. The first is a polite ‘we haven’t met before,’ and the other is ‘I don’t know or trust you.’ Keep in mind that you’re starting on thin ice with the second. The only real benefit of memorizing these is that you’ll know their opinion of you from the word ‘go,’ so use it to adjust how you act. They’re a direct culture.”
The board changed to a cheesy ‘hello, my name is’ nametag, which earned a judgmental wince from the woman.
“...Any introduction you’ll be making will be whatever you want them to call you, your rank or job, and who you represent. In my case, I would say ‘Dr. Marks,’ followed by what I do, that I work for Horizon, then any important information regarding my competency, if applicable. That tells them everything they need to know, minus any connection to other people that might influence how I should be treated—a relationship with someone of high standing, for example—which would be added after your name. After knowing who to be respectful towards and how to navigate introductions, this leads us to how the packs operate socially.”
She drew a breath, exhaling it with a less sure expression than it entered with.
“Did I mention they’re direct? They’re direct. And physical. Very physical...” Her mouth closed after a moment, the pensive furrow of her brow giving way to a defeated sigh. “Ignoring the scent thing, how you carry yourself matters; if you walk around like you own the place—chest out, full height, looking down your nose at people—then you are going to be ‘put in your place,’ and probably by the closest person of higher rank. Standing at attention, conversely, is subservient. Regardless, don’t act needlessly confident or confrontational; they will take it as a challenge, and you will get into a fight over it... Just don’t jostle for dominance, okay?”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, murmuring about how often that will happen anyway. The clap of her hands marked the next section.
“On the other side of things is after you’ve been there a bit. Hopefully, you’ve made friends as opposed to making an ass of yourself, and have had time to get to know some people. I’ll get this out of the way: they are an intimately open people, and chances are that if you’ve made a good impression on someone, they’ll invite you over. Yes, this means what you think it does. No, they’re not picky—if they like you enough, they’ll offer—but you obviously don’t need to accept, that’s up to you. This does bring us back to the whole ‘den’ thing though. More specifically, the relationships within the den itself, and relationships in general.”
A smirk crept up on her face as she shook her head.
“A den is composed of close friends and any mates living within a domicile that have formed their own micro pack-structure, and do so with the purpose of acting as a familial unit. They assist with rearing young and other duties—think of it as a particularly supportive barracks where everyone decides to stay living together as a family.
“As for ‘mate,’ it is a very specific term for them. It denotes others who they have entered into a committed relationship with, and who they intend to bear and raise their children. If that’s not applicable due to gender mismatch, or a simple lack of desire to, then they at least stay physically involved with only their mates. This can be a duo, trio, or any number, really. Picking out who’s with who is actually simple for them, as confusing as this sounds.”
She gestured at the board, a diagram of a muzzle populating the space with several areas highlighted and labelled.
“The roof of their mouth is home to a gland which secretes a potent pheromone that they basically soak into their mates regularly. That’s called a ‘mark.’ With Lilhuns, this is a reoccurring hard bite on the neck or shoulder. They press the gland into their partner’s fur until the secretion seeps into the hair follicles, then it becomes almost impossible to prematurely remove without medical intervention. From that moment—and until the scent naturally wears off without reapplication—the ‘marked’ partner is now all but broadcasting through the pheromone whom they are ‘mated’ to, and thus no longer open to casual intercourse. It also doubles as a deterrent for offers, since it greatly inhibits physical desire towards a marked individual. Other attractions towards the person remain normal, so falling in love with someone who is ‘marked’ isn’t a taboo or anything; you’ll find that ‘mates’ have no problems with including more into the arrangement, as long as everyone involved welcomes the addition.”
A droned ‘ooh’ came from the audience.
“This is why I said not to worry about being bit,” Jessica sighed out, her expression darkening after a few seconds. “That being said: if you do end up on the end of a mark and you weren’t consenting, then report it to whoever the nearest person is—preferably of higher rank than who did it. A ‘forced’ mark is... Well, it’s a serious crime for them, and will be dealt with swiftly.”
A glance to her empty thermos was met with an offer of bottled water from another member of the staff, the doctor thankfully accepting and taking a sip. “If you are asked and you decide to accept, then you will be bit, marked, and then officially in a relationship. Unfortunately for us, we’re not covered in thick fur, nor evolved to deal with biting, so they will puncture skin to achieve the same result. I’m told it can hurt a bit, but due to their sharp teeth and clotting saliva, it’s hardly more than a stiff shoulder for a day or so. Now, I’m feeling like I overlooked something...”
She walked over to her bag on the floor, hefting it up onto the desk and retrieving what looked to be notes for the presentation. Her tongue clicked absently as she ran a finger down the pages, exhaling with a soft nod once she had finished.
“Jumping back to the ‘bond’—since I previously skimmed over that—we should discuss why we care about it.”
The doctor pulled out a small baggie of something, laid it on the table, then put the backpack on the floor before taking a sip of her water and slowly pacing the front of the room. A few taps on the backboard brought up some diagrams related to the subject.
“Keeping in mind the six percent bonding rate between Lilhuns, we reach what the bond actually does. As stated earlier, this invokes a reciprocated hormone production in response to the stimulating pheromones, effectively altering the emotions of a bonded individual. The formation of the bond is heavily dependent on the pair in question, so no concrete timetable can be ventured, sadly. Regardless, since the bond works both ways, this means that each party has their mood altered by the other. This can lead to increased happiness, sorrow, anxiety, et cetera. The effect is especially pronounced when it corresponds to an already present emotion; if you’re happy, and your bond is happy, then you’re both even happier, simply because you’re both happy. If you’re happy, and your bond is not, then you both balance out somewhere in the middle.”
Jessica paused her walking to cycle a breath. “The rough translation of hormone replication is about forty percent through a bond between Lilhuns, and remains in that range for a normal bond with a human as well.”
Someone waited the few seconds she was lost in thought to ask a question. She blinked, slightly raising her brows in a silent request for it to be repeated, the query too quiet to be intelligible on the recording. The woman nodded with a smile.
“Very astute of you; I did specify a ‘normal’ bond there, yes. When humans are involved, two more types surface. The first is a ‘long-exposure’ bond, also known as a ‘delayed’ bond—notable differences are that it takes a significantly long time to achieve, and that the influence jumps from forty percent...to around eighty or more.”
Soft murmurs of curiosity propagated throughout the room.
“This comes with a caveat, however: the bond is skewed.” The diagrams behind her shifted to show a new graph. “During the formation of this bond, the eventual bonded becomes particularly attuned to specific emotions—those that are the highest potency throughout the process. If the bond experiences life-altering terror during formation, then you can expect that to be all the more accurately replicated within the bonded. Same for the other emotions. Consequently, anything outside of the reactive emotions is dulled to low or effectively zero replication.”
The doctor took another sip of her water, holding up a finger before using it to broadly gesture to an asterisk preceding a note on the slide.
“This is a subject in need of study—our samples are quite limited—but some hypothesize that the high compatibility rate opens avenues for them to become ‘oversaturated’ with a particular stimulus during the bonding, thus causing this anomaly and a prolonged acclimation to their bond. We can’t say if this is a universal trait, or if it’s just the right combination of factors occurring at random, but it did, and these were the results. The second type is one that the previously mentioned ‘defects’ achieve with humans. I cited their compatibility as one-hundred percent earlier, but can anyone guess what the response percentage is?”
A hand raised cautiously, a quiet voice earning a sardonic smile and a nod from the presenter.
“Also one-hundred percent... Yep.” She huffed a dry laugh to herself and exhaled the rest of her breath slowly. “Defects perfectly synchronize their hormonal production with their bond, meaning that a distressed bond can be crippling for the bonded. Furthermore, this is in addition to their unaltered emotional state; a worried bonded can be sent into panic attacks if their bond is also exceptionally concerned. This can have serious consequences during stressful times, but can also result in emotional healing for those suffering imbalances, lead to unparalleled joy, and...well, you get where this is going.”
“How does this relate to the Union attacking them?” a man in the classroom asked. Jessica froze, her eyes looking to a staff member off-screen for permission. Presumably receiving it, she brought her attention back to the group, her expression more severe than previously.
“Before humanity, the Lilhun had exhibited such a low bonding rate that multiple bonds at a time was considered impossible, and even finding subsequent bonds after the first was never hypothesized.”
“Why?” a woman ventured, squeaking an apology when the doctor glanced at her.
“Because of how rare it was, and how the bonded react in absence of their bond,” she answered coldly. “Once bonded, Lilhuns become dependent on the additional production of hormones supplied by the bond. If the bond were to be absent for prolonged periods, then even in the company of others, they will suffer a withdrawal of sorts. Without knowledge of why they are without, they will fall into depression, then suicide. If they are aware of the reason, they will persist, but will eventually become unstable and impulsive to a point where they will do anything to reunite with them.”
“...And if they can’t? Like if the bond dies?”
Jessica’s gaze bore a hole through the man before she turned back to grab her water, her answer terse. “Suicide—unless they were murdered... Then, the bonded will kill each and every person even remotely involved, ignoring any non-critical injury sustained in favour of slaughter. Few have the willpower to bear separation for any length of time after that, but it’s possible. There have been entire reports revolving around warriors on the field bonding, losing their bond, then rampaging for days until they finally succumbed to their wounds, taking countless others with them.”
She finished off the water, placing it back on the table, her eyes fixed on the mahogany surface. “They are a species who are terminally social, bond to humans with greater ease than their own people, utilize natural healing properties, and will become cold-blooded killers if we were to intentionally perish. The Union would be giving humanity an unshakable ally, and a guaranteed, widespread, violent response if they were to make even the tiniest slip in dealing with us.”
She glanced at the attendees. “As you can probably guess, they are instinctively driven to find, form, then protect their bonds. Failing that, they will stop at nothing to avenge them. Humans and Lilhuns could never meet.”
“...But we did,” someone stated gravely. The doctor smiled.
“We did, and now you’re being sent to prove how big of a fuck-up it was for them to not finish what they started. There is a species so perfectly matched to us that religious parallels have been drawn by their culture. Horizon wants you to do what humanity loves most, and give the Lilhuns what they were denied: friends.”
The air in the room was almost visibly charged with determination, dispelled as Jessica checked the time again.
“Alright, this is where I need to dig into the details of specific assignments that most of you can’t be here to listen to, so before you go: are there any questions?” A man raised his hand. “Yes, you. What is your question?”
He cleared his throat. “Can I pet the wolf-looking ones?”
She blinked, her face contorting from surprise, to concern, then contemplation. “If you’re particularly close, I suppose… I…I get it, but… Next question?”
A woman’s hand shot up in the air. “Does catnip work on the cat ones?”
The doctor opened her mouth, closing it with a tilt of her head. “Untested, but now I'm curious.”
“What happens if you ‘pspsps’ at them?”
“They’ll be confused? Next?”
“Is the fur soft?”
“Oh, that’s normal. Yes. Next?”
“Can I touch their ears?”
“Same as the petting question, I think.”
More hands continued to be raised, each holding an aura of excitement. Jessica shot a look for help at the staff, most too busy breaking professional appearances to laugh at the exuberant group. She sighed in defeat, her slumped shoulders giving way to a bemused smile as she walked to her desk. Plopping into her chair and pulling out a strange grey cube from the bag she retrieved earlier, she popped it into her mouth and watched as the group conferred, new questions taking the form of extended limbs.
“Can someone delay my next appointment, please? We’re going to be here a while...”