Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: January 16, 2137
The Terrans were well-informed on the base’s design, perhaps having obtained blueprints of Farsul underwater mechanisms. Our submarine had glided under the bottom of the structure, which triggered an automatic hatch to unseal. We ascended into a shaft, and it resealed upon detecting the full volume of our displacement. The water drained from the chamber, before a gentle computer voice welcomed us to the Galactic Archives. It was time to take the mantle of authentic history back; I could feel my emotions in turmoil as we geared up.
Tyler, Carlos, and Samantha were wearing full-face respirator masks, along with the rest of the landing party. It was simple to determine through our instruments that we were in a normal pressure, fully-aerated environment, but the Kolshian side of the conspiracy had dabbled in aerosolized weapons. The UN was taking extra precautions to avoid future incidents of cured soldiers. The next attack could be worse than the cure, if they could target specific genomes with diseases.
If the Farsul went to all this trouble to hide the historical cache, there’s no telling what we’ll find here. We all accept the risks that they could flood or blow it up with us inside, sabotaging the mission.
We disembarked in a hurry, knowing other submersible craft would follow behind us. Giving the Farsul time to destroy evidence or trigger destruct mechanisms was an unacceptable risk. Aliens like myself and Onso were given the choice whether to wear biohazard gear, so I opted not to. What were they going to do, cure the Gojid race again? However, the Yotul, despite belonging to an herbivore species, had donned a specially-fitted mask over his snout.
“Why the garb? Have you been getting flesh cravings from being around Tyler?” I asked.
Onso sucked in a sharp breath. “Nobody is messing with my biochemistry ever again. Though I agree, Tyler eats too much meat for his cholesterol.”
Tyler tightened his fingers around a gun. “Judge all you want. I’d rather die than live without a fucking burger.”
“That’s…not a sane thing to say,” I mumbled.
“Well, you’ve never had a burger. Rabbit food doesn’t hit the spot, man.”
“Spare Baldy the gory details,” Sam chuckled. “We got work to do.”
Upon receiving a signal, Terran soldiers pushed out in pairs through a cramped exit door. There were no sounds of resistance from the reception pad, despite the Farsul base’s secretive nature. I sidled up to Onso, and we followed our human friends out into fresh air. My gun was ready in my grip, but no hostiles or personnel were in sight. There was only a modest service door, which could be rigged with traps. Perhaps armed guards were waiting for us to enter the main area, before mowing us down.
With that very suspicion in mind, the humans blasted down the unlocked door with charges. Confusion was evident in their body language, despite the hazard masks and their lack of tails. The peek inside revealed only a library-like lobby, with a lone Farsul receptionist behind a desk. She gasped in surprise, and abandoned all focus on her workstation. If I wasn’t mistaken, her drooping ears were scrunched with some level of unhealed grief.
Are they planning to kill us intruders on sight, and this alien is a rare soul with a conscience? Grief doesn’t make any sense.
“Hello. I am Archivist Veiq.” The Farsul laid her empty paws out carefully, and didn’t flinch as UN soldiers crowded her. “I am the only receptionist on duty, and I will help you find anything you are looking for. All records are stored on physical nodes for security reasons. There are a few staffers on duty in each room, but they are unarmed historians; not a threat to you.”
Tyler, being an officer of Monahan’s ship, took charge of the situation. “Why should we trust you?”
“Us archivists all wish your experiment could have succeeded. We exhausted every avenue, and tried to revive it every so often. I knew a human well once. Danny, his name was. He got…sick, just like you all do. I haven’t interacted with any humans in a while. It’s not worth it, getting attached to a creature with a short life span.”
I blinked in confusion, trying to discern what the Farsul archivist was referring to. Anything involving human experimentation was not above-board, and the conspiracy’s typical aim was to snap predatory habits. Why would this clandestine receptionist have known a human? Why would she care about him getting sick, to the point of showing grief? The Kolshian-Farsul conspiracy treated Terran lives as toys, not viewing them as people.
“Choose your next words very carefully, Veiq. What experiment?” The blond officer jammed his gun against her temple, chest trembling with distaste. “Have you captured more of our fucking civilians?!”
The Farsul stiffened. “I assumed you knew. You’re not here to learn about your kind’s…condition?”
“The fuck are you on about? We came here for your cumulative records, but now you’re sure as shit gonna spill what you’re talking about.”
“It would be easier to show you. Shall I take you to the human room? It’s dedicated to your kind’s exploits.”
“Fine. Don’t try anything smart. Go ahead; lead the way.”
Veiq pointed with a claw to a swipe card, and slowly reached for it at Tyler’s nod. The Farsul walked to a stairwell door, and tapped the plastic rectangle against a scanner. With a beep, the locked barrier clicked open, permitting us entry without use of force. The Terran soldiers were on edge, expecting the staffer to spring a trap at any minute. I didn’t understand why she was so compliant yet unafraid.
Tyler kept the gun barrel close to her head, not letting her stray from his guiding touch. A few personnel were left to guard the reception area, as we followed the Farsul blindly. The Galactic Archives appeared to be a multi-level building, with entire rooms dedicated to collecting items and recordkeeping for a sole species. Fishing a visual translator out of my utility belt, I scanned it over various labels. Krakotl. Sivkit. Onkari. Arxur.
The last label gave me pause, as I craned my neck to peer into that room. The Krakotl, Sivkit, and Onkari rooms appeared to have a small number of staff from the native species, clearly ones brought into the fold. For obvious reasons, the Arxur’s space lacked such inclusions; nobody would be insane enough to employ the savage grays. Recalling my anger upon learning that Coth’s tale was true, I wanted to see for myself any documentation the Federation had of Wriss.
Our priority now was getting to the bottom of Veiq’s story about humans; it also interested me what the Farsul knew from their initial observations of Earth. I was uncertain whether the ancient, primitive predators had shown their redeeming attributes back then, during the vicious wars. Furthermore, we could discover the exact details of why they pronounced the Terrans dead, without verifying that fact beyond all doubt.
“Human,” Veiq read off a solemn plaque at the end of the hall. “This is the one you want. Give me a moment please.”
The human door was different from the rest. It was sealed off by a magnetic lock, which was a step up in security from even the Arxur. The only rationale I could think of was that the Farsul were hiding something about the Terrans’ past, that not even their colluders all had clearance to know. What had they seen on Earth that would be that devastating if it got out?
Veiq swiped her card over a scanner, and was given an odd confirmation message. The Farsul ducked her head in forlorn fashion, pushing the entrance open. Tyler shoved her into the room, forging ahead with apprehension. I followed Marcel’s friend with hesitant steps, and what I saw almost swept me off my feet. The extra security wasn’t about any information they were hiding…it was about species containment.
Audible gasps came from the UN soldiers, as their eyes landed on three humans seated at a desk. The trio didn’t look particularly impressive for predators, hunched over holopads with singular focus. I couldn’t see any signs of mistreatment, restraints, or coercion. Other than odd plastic clothing, there was nothing out of Earthling norms. A few Farsul milled about as well, though they halted their tasks upon our entry. The Terrans working with the archivists seemed amazed, spotting others of their kind.
“What the…” Samantha murmured.
A gray-haired human walked over with a limp, and startled when gun-pointing and shouting voices greeted him. Tyler ordered the soldiers to round up the other staffers, placing them into kneeling positions. How had Terrans gotten into the Galactic Archives, at the bottom of Talsk’s ocean?! This didn’t compute in my brain, but I sure wanted to hear what Veiq’s experiment was. Were they trying to turn Earth’s people into Federation sympathizers?
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Carlos shouted at the silver-domed man who approached us. “YOU! What is your name?”
“George Murphy.” The strange human’s eyes darted around, and he showed signs of nervousness. “Who…who are you?”
“We ask the questions!”
“Okay, sir. Please don’t flip your lid. I…I just don’t understand, uh, where you came from. You’re human.”
“We come from Earth?”
“I know that! Whoa, my golly, is that the United Nations symbol?”
“…yes, that’s who we work for.”
“Look, maybe I should explain—” Veiq began.
George’s eyebrows knitted together. “So they’ve been hiding spaceships all this time? They really did find a flying saucer at Roswell. God.”
“I’m not sure what they’ve been doing to your mind, but there was no hiding about the FTL tests,” Carlos replied. “It was livestreamed everywhere, from Earth to Mars. If you somehow missed that, it was pretty damn hard to miss the raid on our motherland.”
“Live…streamed? Mars? Raid? Um, sir, what is today’s date?”
“January 16. I think.”
“The…the year.”
“2137.”
George’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out cold on the floor. Carlos seemed stupefied, as he knelt to lend medical aid. Mr. Murphy’s two colleagues bore horrified expressions, slipping into a state of panic as they overheard. I wasn’t following what was going on myself, but there was a clear disconnect between these possible captives and current events. Tyler wheeled on Archivist Veiq, a livid expression no doubt lurking beneath his mask.
“What year do they think it is?” the blond human hissed.
Veiq closed her eyes. “I was explaining. We’ve been working on this project for centuries, on and off. I’d have to check your files to give specific answers, but we haven’t visited Earth since your presumed extinction.”
“Our what?” a panicked Terran staffer asked.
“That was during the Cold War. A hundred-fifty years ago, at least.” Samantha shook her head in bewilderment. “Fuck, this is a new one.”
Tyler waved a hand. “Get the three of ours out of here, and to our medical bay. Make sure you screen them for contaminants or contagions before removing your gear.”
Soldiers took care with the unconscious George Murphy, and the two other predators were escorted out too. The staffers seemed more agitated than they had before our arrival, with one still demanding answers from the UN troopers. Veiq watched as the strange Terrans were herded out, and her Farsul cohorts were lined up against the wall. The receptionist squirmed under Tyler’s glare, breathing a deep sigh.
“I’ll tell you as much as I know! So, we visited your planet after hearing your signal broadcasts. We have thousands of hours of footage of you; you can look through it on the mainframe there. Ask any of us for an eye scan to bypass the password, if you want to,” Veiq said hurriedly. “I can see that you know nothing about the project.”
Officer Cardona leaned toward her with menace. “I better be made to know something in a hurry. If those humans are that old, how are they still alive?”
“Cryosleep. Are…your kind familiar with the concept?”
“Yes. What I’m still not familiar with is the fact that you’ve been abducting humans for centuries.”
“When we learned that there was a second predator species, let’s say we were concerned. There was a sample size of one with the Arxur, and the cure failed in horrific fashion. We’re more the behind-the-scenes types than the Kolshians, so we always get the first test subjects for an operation. We record the information about every species, okay?”
“Go on, Veiq. Tell me exactly what you did to these poor people. To all the people like us throughout galactic history!”
“Easy now. We secretly snatch a few subjects for all meat-eaters. Keep them chilled while the Commonwealth runs their calculations, then begin a few rounds of testing. Despite your high aggression, it would’ve been wrong to authorize a genocide without doing everything we could to save you. Your trials would determine scientifically if the cure could work on a predator…a species that killed on its own.”
I found myself pacing as humans did, resisting the urge to chew my claws. Why had these Terrans been so compliant with the Farsul’s whims, if they were kidnapped? The predators didn’t usually give in so easily to intimidation, and these seemed to be working with minimal supervision. My intuitive feeling was anger, knowing that innocent civilians had been whisked away under every species’ nose. Gojid denizens had this done to them, without a clue what aliens were!
What could random people off the street have done, to deserve being taken away from their lives? This is an atrocity.
Onso seemed appalled too, judging by how rigid his tail had gone. The Yotul must be wondering if his kind had been kidnapped in similar fashion, despite being herbivores; after all, we’d seen Sivkit staff working here, and they were plant-eaters. Knowing the marsupial, I bet he was itching to run off to the Yotul chamber next. It would reveal the stark details of their uplift, and any steps taken to mitigate their uncanny aggression.
“You knew the cure worked on us, and you still participated in the raid on Earth?” Tyler hissed.
Veiq shied away from him. “I’m getting there. We were quite hopeful, when we administered the cure; the humans were all quite receptive to it, at first. They were fine, and we were starting to give the Kolshians a hopeful prognosis for Earth. Sure, the aggression was a nightmare, with you crazy predators resisting beyond what was reasonable…most had to be locked away. We learned with the second batch.”
“You’re talking about humans like we’re a batch of fucking cookies! What was your magical recipe for a tame predator? Drugs? Torture?”
“No, we got them to cooperate of their own free will. It was a matter of not telling them we administered the cure; instead, say that other aliens had infected them, and we were studying it for their benefit. Scares them at first, but they come around. Then we ask them about their culture, and claim we’re studying it for posterity. They’d document anything they remembered quite liberally. They were willing to work with us, despite us being prey…your kind can be rather charming.”
“Gee, thanks. Less pandering, Veiq.”
“I…meant that. Anyhow, we solved your temperament well enough; humans could be manipulated. Long as they weren’t left unsupervised, they wouldn’t fight. Our trials were exhaustive, meant to run several years. Years of eating herbivore food, and living the life of genuine sapients! We wanted to believe in you. But when we were about to pass it off to the Kolshians for broader studies, it all collapsed.”
“Collapsed? The fuck does that mean? Collapsed how?”
“The subjects started getting sick. Every last one of them, and we couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Physical maladies and mental impairments were the lesser symptoms. In some cases, they went insane…hallucinations, not sleeping, depression, deranged aggression, total memory loss. Death occurred on its own, even for the ones we didn’t have to put down. We…call it ‘The Hunger.’ Humans go mad without flesh.”
The Hunger? That can’t be right. Dr. Bahri says that humans don’t have bloodlust or a need to eat animals. Prolonged abstinence would really result in insanity, or hunting outbursts?
Carlos leaned down to my ear. “B12 deficiency. We need that vitamin for neuron upkeep and blood oxygenation. Fucking idiots.”
“Now Kolshians were busy crafting a story, trying to explain your, um, eyes. They mistrusted humans, but we’d convinced them you were different than the Arxur,” Veiq continued. “So, thanks to our faith, they already announced your existence to the Federation, and the failure threw a wrench in our plans. Time to backpedal. The Farsul ambassador packaged your terrible history, and the Kolshians fed them that instead.”
Tyler shook his head. “You painted the worst picture of us possible. Not that we didn’t already know that, but…”
“We were buying time, to figure out what went wrong! The Kolshians agreed to help stall, hence why extermination plans against Earth dragged on for decades. But constant failures with our human experiments weren’t acceptable; we’d made no progress. The Commonwealth lost patience, and pronounced you incurable. They also issued a directive to wipe all public knowledge of predators having culture, so no bleeding heart would try curing one again.”
“Yet here you are today, trying to fucking cure us again.”
“The Farsul felt it was wrong not to cure a curable species. The Kolshians wouldn’t even listen to the idea of dropping the cure as a last-ditch effort; it was all straight to killing you! You’re alive because of us. We thought we’d find a breakthrough eventually, so we had to continue the work. We spun the tale that you bombed yourselves, and stopped them from wiping you out.”
I blinked in confusion, not certain that I’d heard correctly. The Farsul had deceived everyone, including their Kolshian conspirators, in order to perfect the cure against humanity? Meanwhile, their lone subjects were predators who were frozen the better part of two centuries ago. The Terrans survived to the present day because a twisted regime thought they could be molded into herbivores, given time.
From what Carlos told me, if the Farsul figured out the missing mineral, they would’ve been right.
“Another day, another crazy alien. It always gets better,” Samantha whispered.
Sorrow flashed in Veiq’s eyes. “So the galaxy proclaimed Earth dead. That lie was a grave error in judgment; we were blinded because we grew attached to the subjects. We still care, even after everything that’s happened. But due to perpetual failures, the Farsul came to believe the Kolshians were right; curing humanity was hopeless. We’re running out of specimens, but we still raise a small group once every few years. After the Hunger gets the last ones.”
“If you think you failed, why didn’t you finish us off decades ago? And then, you help attack Earth after we try to join your Federation?”
“The Kolshians would’ve noticed if we observed or attacked you. They have the shadow fleet, not us; we didn’t want to admit we lied. Chief Nikonus was livid when your kind resurfaced, so despite the wild schemes he tossed around, we joined the extermination fleet to fix our mistake once and for all. You know what the irony is?”
Tyler tensed his shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll love to hear it.”
“The irony is, now, the Kolshians are the ones who think you can be cured. We told them that it failed back at the time, but they didn’t listen to how it all transpired. They wanted a yes or a no on their killing plans. So today, they think they can mold you, because Noah lied on Aafa and said you can live on just plants. Nikonus, the old codger, fucking fell for it.”
It was almost as if the Farsul was pleased that the humans knew the truth, so they could validate her thoughts on “the Hunger.” I would still be reeling from one of her claims, when the next one hit me like a slap to the face; I wasn’t sure how to begin processing such stunning admissions. However, having the world I thought I understood blow up around me was beginning to feel familiar. It never became easy, but it was morphing into a manageable sensation.
“Okay. That’s…quite enough, Veiq,” Tyler muttered. “One last thing. Where are the rest of your human…specimens?”
The Farsul archivist gestured with a paw. “Right this way.”
The predator soldiers followed their guide, and I steeled myself for a meeting with primitive humans from their most barbaric times. The ones that greeted us in this room hadn’t seemed so violent and uncivilized. Still, I mistrusted anyone who was raised among bloodshed, without the comforts Earthlings enjoyed today. Hopefully, the Terrans were ready for any trouble their awakened kin might stir up too.