Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: January 17, 2137
The United Nations had multiple operations ongoing, and more threads to keep up with politically. The Duerten Shield and their various subsidiaries required delicate handling; to the avians’ credit, they were helpful with the rescued cattle from Shaza’s sector. Earth also had 31 direct allies to manage diplomatic relations with. The factor causing me the biggest headache, though—a human colony within the Mazics’ borders had welcomed its first settlers, and three extrasolar colonies within Terran space had opened their doors soon after.
I was pleased the predators were establishing themselves, and expanding in a peaceful manner. However, that rendered the millions of humans residing on Venlil Prime more controversial than ever. After living here for months, several petitioned our office for citizenship; we weighed the requests with the same criteria for any Federation immigrants. Anti-human dissidents argued that more primates should go to Colia or Leirn, the respective Zurulian and Yotul homeworlds. These refugees also had other options available now, they said, between rising new colonies and Earth’s welfare having stabilized.
To be honest, I didn’t think it was a bad idea for the Terrans to mix with different alien populaces, like any other species. However, these Venlil critics weren’t making proposals out of concern for humanity’s continuance. They were alarmed by recent overhauls of Federation institutions. My dreamy plans with Noah fell through because of the political upheaval; the only visit I took to Earth was for the opening of our permanent embassy in Vienna. As much as I’d love to step out of the public spotlight, the alliance I cherished depended on me maintaining power.
This is going to be a vicious re-election cycle. I expect my opponent, Veln, to appeal to voters who don’t want binocular eyes on every street corner. For these final three months, the campaign is my focus.
“What is my legacy, Kam? I’ve served in this office for three years, and we discovered the best friends I could ask for. But it’s still early enough for someone to rip it all to shreds. I rue the possibility of a day where we don’t lock arms with humanity,” I mumbled aloud.
The military advisor pinned his ears back. “I wouldn’t worry. It’s a little late to disentangle ourselves, and besides, people are starting to get used to humans! The Federation consistently polls as less popular than Earth. Besides, sunk cost: we’ve invested lives into Earth’s side of the war. And they freed the cattle.”
“Rescues,” Glim corrected from the couch.
The Venlil rescue was wearing a human scarf over his neck, covering up the brand. After his role in landing the Duerten alliance, it seemed wasteful not to offer him a cabinet position. It was a politically-savvy move too, with Glim being a sympathetic liaison to pro-exterminator sects. As my “campaign advisor”, he could travel with me to various cities and remind the populace about the newly-liberated souls.
Kam flicked his ears. “Right, rescues. Regardless, if Zhao flew all the way from Earth to accompany Noah, and Sara, an apolitical human, is also on the guest list…they must be here to offer their support on the campaign trail. I hope you’ve decided whether to accept, ma’am.”
“Cheln voiced worry over the optics, campaigning alongside humans. It’d make it seem like people are voting for predators with a vote for me. Political suicide…did I miss anything?” I sighed.
Glim tilted his head. “Some people won’t attend events with humans present, especially in rural areas. It’s asking for exterminators to stir up trouble.”
“Thank you for your concerns…you’re not wrong. We can’t tie our platform to them, but I would feel terrible rejecting their help. They understand politics, so we should outright discuss PR concerns with them.”
“On that note, I’m…slightly concerned that the new predator citizens are able to vote. Should they really have a say in how we run our planet? It’s a way for them to influence our affairs.”
“By that logic, why should a Zurulian or Krakotl citizen have the right to vote? We’re not discriminating by species, Glim.”
“I care about Noah, and the Gaians…but they’re an extraordinary circumstance, which no one fully understands. We haven’t engaged with them in peacetime, or established special laws accounting for their…unique attributes. There’s no precedent. Nothing to stop them, if we’re wrong about—”
A knock echoed against the door, and Glim pressed a paw to his forehead. I called for the visitors to enter, watching as a crisply-dressed Secretary-General Zhao strolled in. His black hair was combed over, and his brown eyes held distinct worry. I’d warmed to Earth’s new leader, but I missed the fatherly aura that Meier evoked. Elias had barely been older than me, yet he projected an air of dignity and wisdom.
Sara acted reserved, finding a seat after a meek greeting. Ambassador Noah’s eyes didn’t light up like usual, which tipped me off that something was amiss. Perhaps this wasn’t a cordial visit; I wondered if something had gone awry in the war effort. This could relate to the cured humans at Mileau. My office received word of the bioweapon’s use, but I might’ve underestimated its significance to the Terrans. Racking my brain for other possible culprits, no answers presented themselves.
“Hey, Tarva.” Noah squeezed himself between Glim and I, pulling me into his embrace for a second. “How are you feeling?”
I brought my prosthetic tail to his chin, turning his face toward me. Emotions swirled in the ambassador’s pupils, indignant anger that chilled my blood. There was also a trace of loss and pity lurking, which I didn’t understand. It would be easy to assume that there was a threat against the Venlil, except the human envoy lacked military generals. Besides, the uncertainty in Noah’s grimace wasn’t how Terrans responded to threats, at least in the past.
“What happened? You’re looking at me like I have a month left to live,” I hissed.
The ambassador shared a glance with Sara. “That’s why we both came, to break the news. We thought you deserved to have…your oldest friends here.”
“Nobody is in danger.” Sara arched her thick eyebrows for emphasis, anticipating the fearful guesses that would pop into my head. “This is about our mission to the Galactic Archives on Talsk.”
“I know about that,” I offered. “You mentioned attempting to recover anything the Farsul hid about prehistoric cultures. Are…Venlil omnivores? Is that what this is?”
“No! Far as we can tell, no. But we uncovered some shocking information about the Venlil, which flings every thesis I wrote about your sociology out the window.”
Secretary-General Zhao set his eyes on my snout. “Dr. Rosario is correct; this changes everything that’s known about your species. Doesn’t the way they constantly hammer home that you’re the weakest species raise suspicion? Let me tell you, that’s propaganda they force fed you.”
“You’re saying we weren’t always weak,” I breathed. “Is this a suggestion that the Venlil should become a military species…and train to behave predatorily? Is this a critique of our emotional culture?”
“Not at all. Governor, how you act upon the information I’m about to provide isn’t my concern. Humanity will stand beside you, no matter what you decide. It deeply saddens us to discover how our friends were oppressed and mistreated. My belief is that the choice, of who you wish to be, should be yours. Not ours, certainly not the Kolshians’.”
Losing yet another chunk of our identity was gut-wrenching; it often felt like the humans were dealing sucker punches in quick succession. Perceived facts, which were infallible from our perspective, crumbled as if they were made of sand. Few institutions were left untouched by the predators’ arrival, mere months after first contact. It wasn’t their fault that the Federation’s meddling was so pervasive, or that the Venlil were blind to such manipulations. Still, it would be more comfortable to stuff my paws over my ears and ignore the latest truths.
That’s why there’s such fearsome opposition to the humans. It’s hard to market the destruction of every belief we’ve ever held.
My platform was about change, and the need to rid ourselves of the Federation’s lies—no matter how difficult it was. That meant the full picture of the Venlil’s past must be dispersed. If the Kolshians committed crimes against my kind, we deserved justice. I managed to give Zhao an ear flick, and he powered up my office’s projector. However, General Kam looked skeptical about Venlil not being the meek creatures we were reputed to be.
“I’ve seen for myself that we’re a sensitive species,” my military advisor muttered. “Our forces aren’t…tough. In the heat of battle, we cry or we flee. That’s why we needed the Federation to defend us. That’s why humans defend us now!”
Noah pursed his lips. “You look angry, Glim. How do you feel about this?”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Glim turned his scowl on the predator. “I, for one, believe they could’ve done anything to us. The Kolshians are evil. Mileau proved they have zero qualms over harming innocent herbivores.”
“That’s the truth,” Sara growled. “It wasn’t just the Venlil we learned about. There’s records of how they changed every species they came across.”
Secretary-General Zhao queued a video. “Including us. However, this meeting is only about helping our friends. I’ve had my staff share the entire cache, millions of hours of footage, with you, Tarva. Every log a researcher recorded, every aspect of society they pored over, and every action they took against you, it’s there. Again, what you do with it is your prerogative.”
“We’re here for you.” Noah placed his palm over my paw, and traced his fingers over the fur in reassuring patterns. “If you want humanity’s aid, we’d be happy to lend our resources to recovering your past. We could make detailed lessons of the unadulterated history.”
“Okay, just tell me already! The suspense is going to kill me,” I grumbled.
The Chinese national obliged, playing the video in mournful silence. My eyes soaked in the long-ago recordings of our homeworld. There were a few images of Venlil fights, which the United Nations censored due to their bloody nature. Overhead footage was also captured of my kind fending off larger animals, headbutting them with frenzied aggression. Oddly enough, clips existed of predators spotting Venlil, isolated in the wilderness, and turning to avoid us.
Zhao scratched the back of his head. “From what we’ve gathered, the Venlil are genuinely a species that feels emotions more strongly than others. This also entails high impulsivity; you’re prone to lash out when feeling angry or threatened.”
“That’s just one hypothesis, of course,” Sara jumped in. “What’s certain is that the Venlil were seen engaging in contests of dominance. ‘Duels’ and ‘feuds’ would break out from perceived insults; your culture was honor-based.”
Glim scrunched his ears. “Why would anyone see fighting as scrupulous? There’s no honor in that.”
“The United Nations does not condone unnecessary violence, so I can’t offer a justification,” Noah said. “In our past, duels were seen as a method of vindication. It was about proving a point, and not accepting slights against you.”
The Secretary-General nodded. “Aliens could’ve done it for any reason, and we’ll never be able to ask your rationale. Regardless, this same honor-driven ethos is what irked the Federation about the Venlil. Care to explain, Ambassador Williams?”
“Of course. The Federation outstayed their welcome, after first contact. Frankly, you knew the changes they made conflicted with all logic. Ancient Venlil were remarkably stubborn in their convictions; they didn’t take well to being ‘mellowed.’”
“The Venlil were an urgent case to subdue, because of your aggression. A Farsul researcher referred to you as, ‘More temperamental than the Krakotl,’” Sara finished. “The people of Sk…this planet thwarted the Federation’s attempts at reeducation. That led to…drastic measures.”
The human scientist twirled her curls around a finger, and I scanned her closely. She had started to say a name before switching to “this planet”; while I wouldn’t prod at this moment, I wasn’t going to let that slide off my radar. For now, it was head-spinning enough to hear about traits that were antithetical to a modern Venlil’s disposition. If the Federation succeeded in breaking our spirit, why would they need to rub our snouts in the newfound weakness?
The Kolshians and the Farsul fashioned us into the galaxy’s laughingstock. Why did the Krakotl get to be a military species, and how could we have been more aggressive than a coercive race like them?
Zhao resumed his video; Venlil were packed into camps and forced to watch propaganda clips. Federation teachers implemented similar curriculums in the classrooms, targeting the youth with zeal. Subsequent clips were spliced together, of our citizens lashing out against the Federation’s occupation. Exterminators lost their flamethrowers in wrestling matches, and tussles led to suit punctures that removed incendiary immunity. Burning occupiers ran off with screams, chased by crazed-looking Venlil spewing fuel.
That was the first in a chain of chaotic events, which must’ve infuriated the Federation. One Venlil was shown launching himself several feet, and latching his paws around a Farsul’s head. I noticed that his legs were straighter and sturdier than any of ours I’d seen. His face seemed deformed too, even with the motion blur. There was little time to focus on those facts, however, as images of alien visitors dragged from cars ensued. Property destruction appeared to be rampant, wherever the Federation built anything; someone with a stolen flamethrower lit the entire reeducation camp ablaze.
Noah drew a shaky breath. “The Farsul assumed that the Venlil would give in, after a few years…that the re-education would take hold. But no matter how long they stuck your people in those camps, the second they had a chance to rebel, they did.”
“The Kolshians proposed drastic measures, even floating around glassing your world,” the Secretary-General explained. “They were humiliated by the failure of the uplifting process, but instead of annihilation, they eventually elected to impose the ultimate insult on you.”
“They discovered a genetic joint disorder that caused your knees to bend inward, Tarva. It negates your ramming power. They also created a defect that prevented your olfactory system from developing…to limit your threat detection abilities and increase your fearfulness. The Feds forcibly dragged every Venlil citizen off for editing, and screened the populace to ensure it hadn’t missed a single person.”
“That’s…they physically modified us? They crippled us?!” I hissed.
“It’s their fault the Arxur targeted me!” Glim was hysterical, slamming a paw against a couch cushion. His tail was flailing with emotion. “If they hasn’t made us so weak, the fucking grays wouldn’t see us as perfect livestock! Maybe I could’ve outrun…the cattle collectors…when they…”
Sara’s eyes were moist with pity. “I wish I could say that was it. Feds ensured that the re-education efforts succeeded, by taking every child born following the gene-edits to be raised by a Farsul off-world. That was when they sold you on how weak you were, oh, the weakest species in the galaxy. From the day the kids were able to speak, they heard that line.”
“Farsul also raised the Venlil pups with the rest of the Federation’s ideology, and provided positive reinforcement for any fear response. Then, they had that generation raise their own kids, and waited for the natives to die off. The rest is history,” the Secretary-General rumbled. “The pacified Venlil were moved home, and told they were isolated as pups due to a plague.”
“The Federation saved you.” Noah’s voice dripped with bitter sarcasm, and his grip around my wrist had become vice-like. “Go home to Venlil Prime, a name conjured up by those colonizer bastards. The authentic name was too violent for a prey species.”
“Authentic name?” Kam echoed, in a dazed voice.
“Skalga. The best translation we could find was ‘World of Death.’ Perhaps that was early Venlil’s experience, or maybe it’s gallows’ humor about your planet’s extreme conditions.”
Even as the humans plainly spelled it out, my mind rejected the novel understanding. Something as sacred as our homeworld’s title—the place that I was governor of and sworn to protect—even that was a fabrication to control us? What heartless monster would remove a child from their parents, and treat them as a pawn? My visceral outrage was reminiscent of the charged emotions, when the tortured Marcel was first wheeled in front of us. I could see my anger mirrored in the predators’ clenched fists, and the way they leaned forward in their seats.
“They took our children,” I growled. “They took kids away from their mothers! I know the pain of losing a daughter.”
Noah massaged my shoulders, while scowling at the carpet. “You’re so strong, Tarva. Nobody deserves to suffer what you did with your daughter, and the Federation didn’t hesitate to inflict that agony on millions.”
“The Federation are lying frauds. They mocked us, and spit in our faces…they do it to this day. Why?”
Zhao issued a bitter chuckle. “If I knew that answer, the same thing wouldn’t have happened to humanity. You’re preaching to the choir on that front. We’re not that different; maybe that’s why we get along so well.”
“The people of V…Skalga are owed the truth. Kam, we’re releasing everything at my next campaign event. To think the Kolshians treated us, and countless others, with utter disregard. They deformed us at a genetic level! Who would commit such a violation?”
“We’ll help as much or as little as you like. We might be able to reverse their edits,” Sara offered. “I understand how personal this is, so if you’d like us to stay out of it, humanity will respect that.”
“Are you kidding? We never would’ve learned the truth without you; your soldiers risked their lives to get this information. You are sincere, wonderful friends, and I wouldn’t want to face something like this without you. Any suggestions you have, we welcome your input.”
The Secretary-General dipped his head. “Whatever you need and anything I think might help, it’s at your disposal. We support the Venlil, through highs and lows. Of all of our allies, we personally brought what we discovered to you, before any others. Humanity’s alliances are little more than handshake agreements, but with you, I have confidence our mutual loyalty is unshakeable.”
“Well, I think it’s past time our friendship was official. We should unite, with a shared venture that’s what the Federation pretended to be. Blast everything you found in the Archives to anyone who’ll speak to you, and then, start your—our alliance. The galaxy deserves something better.”
In my periphery, I observed how the briefing’s attendees reacted to my proposal. Noah had turned his focus to searching the Secretary-General’s expression; my sweet ambassador loved the idea of strengthening Earth’s diplomatic ties. Hope flashed in Sara’s eyes, a sign that neither astronaut had abandoned their peaceful intentions. If I was reading Zhao’s neutral stare correctly, he’d already thought of extending a United Nations-like organization to allied species on his own.
That left the question of whether my advisors saw this as a kneejerk proposition. The Archives’ revelations would lend our goals validity. Still, convincing prominent diplomats to commit their governments to a group spearheaded by humans would be difficult. General Kam had snapped out of his trance, signaling agreement with tail language. However, Glim’s expression had hardened with skepticism, and for a moment, I feared whether the rescue opposed formalizing an alliance with predators.
Zhao raised his eyebrows. “I would be honored to secure our alliance in an official capacity. My people will reach out to all of our allies, convey the Archives’ findings, and extend an invitation to a convention. We’ll host it in a neutral location, and welcome anyone who seeks to join our formalized alliance, whatever its name may be.”
“That’s a great idea, in theory. But who would be invited to the summit?” Glim avoided the predators’ gazes, as their heads snapped toward him. “The Duerten Shield is only using you. And how can you guarantee the Kolshians won’t use it as an opportunity to attack you?”
“The Duerten Shield and their allies will be extended the courtesy of an invite, but I’m sure it’s a formality. Even if they send a representative, which would surprise me, they have no interest in joining us. As for security, we can direct the guests to a hand-off site, and keep the true location unknown beforehand. They’ll be escorted straight from the relay point to the summit.”
“I love the idea of us addressing and wooing potential friends, for more than the five minutes I got on Aafa. But does that plan work for you, Tarva?” Noah growled softly.
I flicked my ears in agreement, though a knot of anger still churned in my stomach. The anguish inflicted upon the Venlil was inexcusable, but at least it functioned to bring us closer to our friends, the humans. Assuming Earth triumphed in the war, we could lay the groundwork for genuine harmony. The predators could deliver what the Kolshians pretended to seek in their mission statement.