Salvador found himself in a meeting room, with a number of superior officers and varying shapes of Cambiar spread all around. Compared to the fancy attired superiors and the bizarre aliens, Sal couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. Waiting quietly, he let the others bicker and curse back and forth some more.
“No, you stupid ingrate. We can’t trust these… these things. Company policy dictates that we sit our asses down and let the higher up manage the situation.” One particularly flustered commander shouted, sweat pouring down his portly features.
“Company policy? The company policy for first contact was less than an afterthought! Josiah fucking Dexter couldn’t give two shits about aliens when he was making the Expedition Fleets! The policy is literally two pages long and is as vague as your mother’s memories of your waste of spunk of a father.” Another, similarly, peeved man retorted, with all the courtesy of a wild animal.
“Please, gentlemen, for the love of god, can we just get through the main topic at hand? If you can’t even agree on our terms of interaction, take it outside, and the rest of us shall handle this,” A mostly calm Titus Fornax said, a rare drop of infuriation leaking in. “The topic at hand is the Partner Program. If we are to truly keep this interspecies discussion open and two-sided, there must be some action taken.”
Sal’s mind refocused on the main topic of the meeting, and why he was in such an unfamiliar environment. Over the past few days, the human crews of the Seventh Expedition Fleet had been moved around and reshuffled into the Cambiar’s own 62nd Outer Fleet that had decided to remain at HL7628. Already, some scans had been made of Starheart, but it’s safety couldn’t be fully discerned without a more in-depth examination. Though the disastrous loss of Ruby Eye was not lost on anyone, thankfully, the casualties were less than expected. Over 60% of the nearly 20,000 crew had escaped, with most of those who were lost being in the mid-decks. The alien fleet had positioned themselves at a lagrange point between the yellow dwarf star and the brown planet of the system. For now, nobody was moving anywhere until the details were sorted. Moving forward, Sal considered the discussion at hand.
In order to improve relations between the two species, some members of command, led by Titus, had outlined an inter-species joint venture of sorts. A human and one or more Cambiar would be selected to stay, live and work together, and to freely discuss their lives to one another. The end goal would be to give H&H and the Out-Han a better understanding of each other so that future discussions would run smoothly. Sal was pretty certain that the main thing that H&H would want to understand would be whether the aliens knew of the concept of ‘profit’ and how they would be able to abuse their lack of context.
Although the program was designed to run on a personal level, the Cambiar had already been forthcoming with information once they had adapted their data and systems to human formats. It turned out that organic hard drives were not the easiest to get information from. They had compiled a ‘need-to-know’ list for humanity to understand the basics of their physiology and anatomy. Even Sal, not the most astute researcher, saw a gaping void regarding the lack of societal or cultural information on the species. Was it just withheld information for security, or was something stranger going on?
Sal couldn’t be sure, and the little he had read through the physical nature of the Cambiar was enough to blow his mind. Apparently asexual, the Cambiar reproduced via splicing and cloning, and quickly developed into adults – that much was laid clear. What had not been clearly explained out, and in Sal’s mind done on purpose to force closer interaction, was the means and limitations by which they could change almost any aspect of their biology to fit within their work structure. From what Sal had seen personally, the Cambiar fit into a number of different castes, each with specific roles to fulfil.
The brief history provided of their kind could be laid out across only a few pages, detailing their origins from a planet called Prime Nexus. Sal would have criticised their lack of imagination when it came to naming planets but quickly remembered humanity called their dead homeworld another word for ‘dirt’. Due to its orbit, the Cambiar homeworld experienced massive environmental shifts throughout the year that led to the planet’s organisms adapting their structure and behaviour to their environment in drastic ways. By random chance and a lucky radioactive meteor millions of years before, mutations induced within the Cambiar allowed them to control their adaptions with conscious effort, eventually leading to them colonizing the stars.
Understanding a bit more about his four-legged companions left one major question in Sal’s mind – why the hell was he in such an important meeting?
“Listen, ladies and gentlemen, we already have hundreds of prime candidates from varying deck and work environments within H&H’s crew. People who know the effort of manual labour, who have a detailed understanding of the nuances of human culture, and those who know how to lead others.” Titus emphasized the last part towards the others in the room, apparently taking great pleasure in pointing out their current inadequacy. “If we, the Expedition Fleet, cannot hope to lay the groundwork for future generations, what chance does the rest of the CCH have?”
Captain Curtin steepled his hands. The bear of a man was slumped over his desk, wisps of white hair slinking around his ears. His furrowed brow was shaking lightly, the stress clearly visible and cracking the man’s exterior. Dark rings plagued his sunken eyes as they locked onto the analyst.
“I am not happy about moving forward without… executive orders from H&H,” Curtin said. “This scenario has never been truly planned out in the necessary detail it requires. However, as the leading officer of all crew in this system, a first step must be taken. I, for one, agree to Analyst Fornax’s proposal, until we hear back from Titanlock that is.”
Though there was some reluctance amongst the others in the room, an agreement was reached. Clearing his throat, Titus addressed the engineer who stood out like a sore thumb. “So, to kickstart this plan, we already have one such candidate right here – Senior Engineer Supervisor Salvador Vigino. Mr Vigino, what have your interactions with the Cambiar been like so far?”
Put on the spot, Sal felt his chest tighten for a moment, feeling as if he had stepped into a lion’s den. Swallowing, he mustered his strength and stood.
“Well, sir, it is in my opinion that the Cambiar are very willing to learn, sir,” Sal cautiously said, repeating himself. “From what I have seen, their hunger to understand, well, human-ness is rather direct but endearing, to me at least. Their skill at already reading social and body cues is far more accurate than I would have guessed from an alien species. I, uh, lack some more vital details about their way of life and nature, but I am sure they are ready to divulge when asked. Is there anything else, sir?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
True to his word, though the past few days had much less contact with the Cambiar, with the Torchers mostly incentivized to stay in their swish new accommodation, G9 was filled with frisson when they popped by to relay a number of details about the arriving humans. They had been desperate to talk but were quickly requested to leave by the pair of guards outside the lounge. It would seem that the human commanders had wanted reduced communication between crews once Curtin had made himself present on Fifth Spoke. At least, until now it seemed.
Titus took in Sal’s words for a moment, sliding his glasses back up his aquiline nose. “I think that says enough. The rest of us can go over some of the broader details, but personal interaction will be vital at reinforcing the trust between our two species. We will go forward with candidate selection as soon as possible. For now, the upper management will continue meeting in private with their Rexia, and we shall consolidate our discussions tomorrow. Agreed?” By the way Titus was already folding up his papers and turning off his computer, it had already been decided.
Once the humans had all stood up and filed out, with Sal preparing to make his own departure, a voice called to him.
“Senior Supervisor, may I have a word?”
The voice was sharp and harsh, not by intention, but from its origin. The translator around the Cambiar’s throat rattled as the speaker echoed across the room. Sal looked towards Titus, who had stuck his head back in the room to nod gently before leaving for good. Sitting back across from the creature emblazoned with verdant green and rouge accents, Sal couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the creature. Atop its head circled a series of steel-grey peaks, crowning its skull.
It was Rexia Rubicoss, one of the leaders of the Out-Han. Though the exact roles or classes of Cambiar society had been ambiguous for Sal so far, he could clearly see the Rexia were their most important. Notably, as Rubicoss spoke, Sal saw that they had not four tendrils extending from its gullet, but five. An additional, thin proboscis-like appendage released a high pitch, sing-song whisper compared to the regular Cambiar tones he had heard from G9.
“Thank you for attending the meeting, Supervisor. I feel your presence made a large impact on your officers.” Sal wasn’t so sure, but he was happy to let the alien think that. “I hope that by supporting your candidacy, you have not been made uncomfortable?” It spread its hands open wide in a supplicative gesture that unintentionally showed off its long, sharp claws.
“Well, it’s not an issue, really, sir Rexia.” Sal had no idea how to properly address the alien. “I already spoke a bit with one of your, Uvolo, I think?” Sal tongue sounded out the unfamiliar word. “They were very… interested, and I’m more than happy to assist the effort. I do have to ask, will my team all be ok? This has all been rather strange for them, so I want to make sure they’re fine.”
The alien gently nodded, spires on its head gently vibrating. “I will give them all I can provide to aid their comfort. I believe some of them are also on the candidate list for review.”
Sal’s eyes widened in shock. He could handle Dusty, Marcus or Abel getting a Cambiar to chat with, though the latter would probably try to see if he could carry it everywhere. The others however… Xin and her probing, jibbing taunts and poor vices? A poor little Cambiar would be surely overwhelmed, if it hadn’t gone mad with irritation by that point. Honestly, she would likely get it smoking from day one and would probably try something more illicit when she found out the bedrooms had locks on them. And Stannock? The narcissistic dickhead would have it complement him all day long. Still, perhaps they would rise to the challenge. Sal could hope that everyone could change for the better, even if some days he wasn’t so sure in himself.
“Thank you, sir, I uh, mean, Rexia. Thank you.” Sal had no clue yet if these things had proper titles to address them by. The sexless nature of them made it feel strange to call them ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ on the few occasions some sort of superiority was clear. Though Abel’s little comments about grabbing tits were grating when they had first made their way to the lounge, he couldn’t lie that he had occasionally inspected G9 during their trips. As far as he could see, the only orifices he saw were their mouth tentacles and the holes on the back of their necks. That, and the somewhat gruesome hole G9 had produced in their neck when fitting the translator in.
If the alien had been annoyed by his slip-up, it made no notice. Instead, it did something he had not seen from any Cambiar so far. With great effort, the sides of its thin mouth quivered upwards in the faintest smile possible. “It is no issue, Salvador. You are the one deserving of thanks. For now, would you like to return to your quarters? I believe Operating Unit 28103-G9 is already awaiting your presence.”
Saying his farewells, he left the room only to feel something grip his collar and pull him to the side. Choked for a second, he spun in a flurry of motion. Sal was prepared to punch whatever had grabbed him, but he relented when he saw a familiar, creased face.
“Hello Sal,” Elijah grunted.
“Elijah, what’s the matter sir? And was that really necessary?” Sal said, fixing the collar of his jacket back into place.
“Sorry, just tense being around these goddamn xenos this whole time. There’s something I want handled, Sal.” Elijah’s voice was quiet, low, conspiratorial.
Arching a brow, Sal gestured for him to continue as the pair walked away from the meeting room, and into the orange lights of Fifth Spoke. The ship had changed drastically over the past few days, with no uniform style being planned out by the aliens. In most areas, a clean, sterile look was used, with metal panelling that no longer deformed under touch, with warm yellow lighting above. However, it was clear that other areas had more devoted designers, with some hallways looking like something out of a corporate headquarters – with glass and wood trappings all over. It made for quite the jarring experience, going from one environment to another with every turn. The air had warmed to a comfortable level, though the light floral scent still remained. Sal was unsure whether it came from the atmospheric system or the Cambiar themselves. He then forced himself to remember to not sniff G9 when he next saw them. That would be rather hard to explain away.
“An inspection of Ruby Eye is going to happen in a few days to investigate the wreckage. They’re expecting to find out what actually happened. I want you to be a part of it. You’ve got EVA experience, right?”
“Well, yes sir, but won’t security, Titus’ or Curtin’s personal agents be handling it? Surely, they won’t let me take part, with all due honesty sir.”
“I’ve got a few favours I can pull. And besides, this is more important than internal political bullshit. Right now, I need someone I can trust. If it turns out these four-legged things did this to us, we need to handle this properly, no waiting around for H&H to sort this mess. We would need to strike first and hard. But if it turns out we did this, if there’s a traitor among us, we need to keep this very fucking quiet, and only between those we trust. Understand?”
“Yes sir. I can handle it. If you put me forward, I’ll let you know what I can find privately.” Sal was unsure if he would even get the opportunity. Sal’s experience was in fixing broken ships, not figuring out why they blew up.
“Good work son. Thank you. Truly.” The older man gave a deep nod, eyes closed in appreciation. Meeting his eyes, Elijah gave Sal a pat on the shoulder and sent him on his way. It was time for Sal to see what a certain alien was raring to ask of him.