Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: February 5, 2137
The election cycle had become more contentious, ever since the truth about the Venlil reached the public’s ears. Veln lambasted my proposal for a union with humanity; my re-election platform involved an instinct suppression program that extended to civilians, a vow to hold a referendum on renaming our planet to Skalga officially, and a pledge to strengthen our military under Terran guidance. After what the Federation did, we had to ensure they never got their claws and tentacles on us again. Reversing the gene edits was my top priority. It was too late for the current generation, but Venlil born in the future weren’t going to be hobbled and sense-deprived.
Funding scientific research was an action I was already taking; the Federation physically weakening and mocking us…stealing our children, outraged the public. Veln was clever, suggesting that Venlil didn’t want humans having the second crack at our genome. The first debate had happened just before I left for the summit, and he claimed that I was making us too dependent on predators we knew for a month. He had stumbled upon a campaign slogan—“No More Federations”—as I prepared to bring us into a new organization.
The polling margins were a few percentage points, with the race neck-and-neck down the home stretch. Many Venlil wanted to stand on their own, and pursue an isolationist policy; I didn’t know how to tap into that sentiment without violating my core principles. What could I do to give the appearance of keeping humanity at arm’s length, without actually pushing them away? Right now, my focus was exploring the station we were docking on with my delegation. Selling a joint charter to an incensed citizenry could come later.
“The human envoy should’ve been the first ones there. I don’t know how many others have turned up, but we need to lay on the charm and mingle with every species. It’s our job to back up the Terrans, put down any bigotry. Am I understood?” I asked.
Kam flicked his ears in acknowledgment. “Yes, ma’am. Not sure where the escort ship has led us, with them jamming our comms and navigations. Think that’s the point—nobody knows where this is happening but them. It’s secure as it can be.”
“I’m here in case Ambassador Coji asks after me, aren’t I?” Glim grumbled. “I can’t believe the Duerten are actually coming.”
I chuckled with disdain. “I don’t think Zhao could believe it either. He practically spat that name when he read the guest list to me. There’s quite a few surprises there…Krakotl separatists were invited. Birla is coming on behalf of vassalized Sillis! The Thafki agreed to come too; how Terrans pulled that one off is beyond me, but the Archives sure have galvanized everyone friendly.”
“We’re not going to get an opportunity where so many species are open to the suggestion again,” Cheln, my diplomatic advisor, commented. “I’ve typed up a draft for your speech, Tarva. You need to hammer home that Venlil are herbivores, and were still modified beyond recognition. Tie credit back to the humans for the Archives’ findings.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. My focus is more on one-on-one interactions, and leisure activities. We have days together with galactic leaders, and that means pulling out all the bells and whistles to make the leery parties feel safe and contented. Let’s waste no time, soon as the docking clamps are in; split up and move around.”
A few other high-level diplomats from outside my cabinet were along for the ride too, with leading figures from the exchange program also on the guest list. Every species was allowed up to twenty visitors, though I imagined the host humans would have more than that. Between security concerns and the need for at-length discussions with all parties, there was no way they could manage with meager staffing. I eyed the colossal space station, as we ducked below a hangar’s overhang. Flashing lights illuminated the docking port, though the process of interfacing with the landing pad was automated.
A welcoming party of humans was present in the terminal, standing with personalized gift bags. They were wearing full helmets, complete with translucent flower and fauna décor; it looked like someone had ripped out the pages of a children’s book. The bottom section of the masks seemed to retract as needed, perhaps by brain pattern recognition. The Terrans could unseal the mouth covering without even touching it, almost like a prosthetic! The one who greeted me unsealed her mask for a moment, revealing a warm smile.
They’ve been advised that they can act normal around the Venlil. That makes me proud, to know they don’t have to hide themselves with me.
“What’s in here?” I accepted the gift bag they offered, and pulled out a translucent bottle. Kam scanned it with a visual translator, revealing that it said Everclear Grain Alcohol. “Thank you, but you do know your human drinks are watered down compared to ours, right?”
The predator chuckled. “One shot of this stuff can make a human sick, but we still brew it. It’s jet fuel. 95% alcohol. Figured it’d be more up your alley.”
Glim eyed the bottle with interest. “Finally, something that’ll make the bad thoughts go away. Give.”
“Not so fast,” Kam interjected. “I can’t sit through days of this political snoozefest without being inebriated out of my mind. We’re sharing.”
The human greeter wagged a finger disapprovingly. “Now now, you haven’t been here five minutes. Don’t you think it’s a little early to get wasted?”
“No,” Glim answered.
“Governor Tarva, I guess you have to be the responsible one. Whatever you do, don’t leave us to talk to the Duerten alone. Uh, you didn’t hear me say that. Please, head inside and lend our people a hand. We can take the bottle and the luggage to your quarters.”
I passed the bag back to her. “You got it. We’ll go say hello to the guests.”
A team of Terrans swooped in to unload our belongings, and it occurred to me that parties less comfortable with the Earthlings wouldn’t appreciate predators taking possession of their belongings. I swished my tail in gratitude, before following the numerous signs pointing the path to the gallery. The station was new construction, likely having the final coats of paint splashed on in advance of the summit. Hallways and rooms were built with vaulted ceilings to accommodate Mazics, while accessibility ramps and quadruped lifts were also present.
There’s no question this was created as a place to host all species. That lends to the assumption that this is in a system close to Sol.
Hundreds of guests had amassed in the banquet hall, which had a number of tables positioned shy of a stage. Non-alcoholic refreshments and Terran snacks were present, and calming music played throughout the theater. My gaze scanned the social circles that had formed; human diplomats were chatting it up with various leaders. The big names weren’t wearing 360-degree helmets. I recognized Sara’s curly hair through her mask, before deciding to wander to her group. Cupo, the Mazic president, was listening to her intently, along with the Fissan ambassador and guests from the Gojid party.
“…body appreciates the accomplishments of the scientific community, and I accept that,” the female astronaut was explaining, utilizing emphatic hand gestures. “The history books will remember Noah’s speech on Aafa, the feats of military grandeur, and the jaw-dropping revelations. The experiments we’ve done are the foundation for reversal of the cure, or for any of the innovations engineers created for the military. But science is not a spectacle. Intellectual pursuits should never be a spectacle.”
Halmina, the Fissan, pointed the horn between her eyes at Sara. “The important thing is whether those experiments form the basis for profit, or whether they give humanity a competitive edge. You humans hold your own economically…those contracts you almost got us to sign were sneakily exploitative. Is science able to generate enough revenue to be worth the cost?”
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“That’s the wrong question. None of the technologies you see as profitable would exist without someone pushing the boundaries, or unlocking a new discovery. I always found a number of fields fascinating, from biology to neurochemistry to geological surveys. What motivated me to pursue two PHDs, and kept me going through the grueling astronaut training, was the better understanding of our universe. The gaps we’ve filled in our knowledge, in a few months, are remarkable.”
“What is remarkable about it, human?” Cupo asked. “You didn’t specify what you thought the right question was. I’m still at a loss for what drives your people, even after our work together.”
“The right question is simple. Why are we here? What is the purpose of life?”
“I fail to see why that is important, or what it would change in your daily living.”
“Or how it adds anything of value,” Halmina chimed in.
“It sounds like a religious concern, not one of science.” A Gojid I didn’t recognize spoke up, waving her claws idly. “Can you say there’s any purpose, after all the suffering we’ve seen? I’m little more than a de facto leader of our largest colony. I watched my culture disintegrate, my homeworld fall, and the refugees scatter like unwanted rubbish.”
Sara shifted on her feet. “It’s a concrete question as much as a philosophical one. The origins of life, the nature of our reality, it mystifies us…it defies all comprehension. We thought finding other lifeforms would put our role in the universe in perspective.”
“Well?” I strolled up to the circle, tapping the human on the leg with my tail. “Did it give you the answers you hoped for?”
“No. To be honest, we hoped that aliens would be enlightened, and they would show us a better way of living. Instead, we found a galaxy just as cruel as what we knew. I understand how Gojid Minister Kiri can struggle to find meaning, but maybe it’s up to us to make our own meaning. Free will means that this suffering doesn’t have to be all there is. Science can lead us beyond our current problems, and I refuse to stop believing that.”
“I’ve always admired your optimism. I remember how happy you and Noah were, peppering me with questions and brimming at the prospect of new friends. Yet, even if science reverses the gene mods, it can’t bring back the stolen years and history. It can’t reset everything to how it was before.”
“That’s a defeatist attitude; we can try, Tarva. Haysi—that’s a cattle rescue I’m friends with, for the other guests—she used to be a historian. When she heard that everything she loved was ripped to shreds by the Archives, you could see how much it hurt her. But, while she might not be willing to leave the safety of her room, she’s brave enough to work on a new exhibit of the Venlil’s past. We can move forward. We can get through this.”
President Cupo flared his beige trunk. “I don’t know how I ever doubted humanity’s motives. I was certain they’d turn on us, but Khoa owes our continued freedom to them. You have my full faith, and my full support for this mystical union of yours.”
“The Gojids would like to hear more about what membership entails,” Kiri chimed in. “The benefits and the costs. Protecting what’s left…I think we share that goal with the Thafkis.”
Halmina tossed her head. “We’re curious about the economic benefits. If you can give us a leg up on those pesky Nevoks, we’re in, no questions asked. It’d be worth your while—cheaper wares, better quality— to cut them out of the equation entirely. They’ve been losing to us in every regard for the past century.”
“I’m not an official diplomat, but this is about genuine harmony and fair treatment between species. I can’t see us agreeing to exclude any allies. If anything is discussed economically, I imagine it’ll be market regulations and labor laws,” Sara sighed.
“What a disappointment! We’re a newer species, like you. We fought our way from the ground up, and we didn’t do it through red tape.”
I interjected, thinking of how to placate the money-hungry species. “If the Fissan Compact is superior to the Nevoks, it should be easy for you to negotiate deals with every power on your own. That’s how the free market works, isn’t it? Surely you have the confidence to outbid them. You don’t want any ethical problems embroiling you in controversy along the way, or any confusion in currency exchanges. The regulations exist for your benefit.”
“Hm…I suppose we’ll consider the impact of these proposals. The Nevoks are so far behind us that they’re nigh irrelevant. Our superior prices speak for themselves.”
“The Venlil Republic would love to hear your best offers for an exclusivity deal, if you join. Now, please excuse me.”
I ducked away from the circle, feeling confident that Sara could steer the conversation away from greedy lines. The Mazics didn’t seem to require convincing to join our union, the Fissans would sign on if they thought they could get the better of the humans economically, and the Gojids would be interested in any protection for their piecemeal colonies. I passed Zurulian Prime Minister Braylen, in one-on-one discussion with UN Secretary of Alien Affairs Erin Kuemper. From what I overheard, the predator was detailing protections for medics under the Geneva Conventions. The quadruped seemed receptive to these clauses.
The United Nations was adamant about having every member state ratify the Geneva Conventions, and a Universal Declaration of Sapient Rights, before permitting entry. Severe violations would be cause for immediate dismissal from the group.
There was no sign of Ambassador Noah, which gave me a slight pang of disappointment. I shook my head, certain that he’d turn up later; the astronaut was likely hiding among one of the groups. Secretary-General Zhao was with a massive group, telling an amusing story to his listeners. I realized this was the only time I’d seen him wear a visor; during our early briefings, he elected not to do so. I slipped into the crowd, and perked my ears to catch the end of his anecdote.
“…mind you, this was my first time visiting an alien planet. As I stated, we were briefed on avoiding sudden movements or emotional displays, to avoid panicking the Venlil. So Jones and I are trying to be business-like and professional, but we have no idea how to feel inside. General Kam thinks it’s a wonderful idea to take us all the way to the governor mansion’s gates, and there isn’t a soul in sight,” Zhao growled.
Yotul ambassador Laulo leaned forward. “Let me guess, they heard human military were visiting, and nobody dared to visit?”
“That’s the gist of it. Anyhow, Kam seems nervous, and remarks on what competent predators we are. I’ve got no clue how to respond to that, so I take a swig of my water. Jones decides she’s gonna make a wise-crack with the aliens, says something like, ‘Oh, don’t worry, the US only preys on oil fields.’ I can’t help but laugh, and the water shoots up out my nose, sprays all over Kam. The Venlil just looks horrified.”
“I haven’t heard this story,” I commented.
“I think I find it more amusing than he does. Anyways, I apologize to Kam, and Jones and I are trying to explain why that happens. She means to search up the scientific reason for drinks coming up your nose, and asks where her holopad is. You know where it was? In her hands. You could just see in Kam’s eyes when he realized that humans are horribly-designed, incompetent predators.”
“I thought you were apex predators,” Governor Birla, the current Tilfish leader, offered in an uncertain voice.
“Sure, that’s true enough. We also trip over literally nothing, put our holopads in the fridge when grabbing food, and forget what we were saying in the middle of a sentence. I’m serious, do your species ever walk into rooms and you can’t remember what you went there for?”
The Thafki representative scrunched his blue-gray nose. “We zone out and forget things, of course…but why would it be tied to walking into rooms for humans?”
“Funny enough, I looked it up, and it might be one of our prey defects. Early humans lived in caves, so predators would typically lurk at the edge of those thresholds. One theory is that our brains tell us to focus up, and search for dangers…I guess our predator wiring isn’t that strong, is it? We had plenty of creatures that ate us in the wild. Hell, the reason we probably invented language was to raise alarm calls for specific predators.”
“You’re sapient because you used to be prey,” Duerten ambassador Coji remarked, in a voice that was unusually quiet.
Something found in the Archives changed her hostility. She seems mellow rather than incendiary…I should look up the exact contents of the Duerten’s files. I was so focused on our own, that I hardly cared about any other species’ truths.
Zhao nodded. “Precisely. Just look at us—and I don’t mean our eyes. We were defenseless prey, and most of our instincts evolved from us trying to stop being eaten all the time. The more I learn about it, from scrambling to understand our place in the galaxy, the more I think our instincts have little bearing on how we actually live nowadays. Humans have some obsolete, faulty wiring.”
“Terrans have so many shared traits with us.” I straightened my tail with confidence; the Secretary-General was taking the right approach to build common ground. “They’re nothing like predators are supposed to be.”
“Sapients are supposed to be whatever they want to be. Predator or prey—that is a dichotomy for animals. In this union, we’re all the same. It’s almost time for my speech, and that’s exactly what I’m going to argue. What’s best for all of us is to protect each other, and to cultivate a new culture of acceptance and tolerance. I hope each of you will choose to join us.”
Once the majority of the guests had arrived, the humans would be able to present their opening speech. Between the two circles I’d visited, the predators’ diplomatic appeals were going surprisingly well. None of the species appeared disconcerted, and the fear directed toward Terrans seemed to have eased. I risked a glance around the venue, and spotted Noah and Glim on the opposite side of the hall. The Suleans, the Onkari, the Verin, and a number of more recent neutrals were picking through the food offerings, alongside the Venlil-human duo; everyone there was in good spirits.
As light-hearted as this summit had been so far, I couldn’t shake my unease over how well it started off. Gatherings never went smoothly for humanity, between the Aafa speech at gunpoint, the ship sabotage, and the bombing of Earth’s memorial on Venlil Prime. It was too early to relax my guard; my job was to ensure there were no incidents with any of the delegations. The reception to the predators’ initial address should be telling, giving us an estimate of how many species had genuine interest in signing an accord.