Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: March 16, 2137
The election required a colossal effort across Venlil territory to ensure that each voter’s voice was heard. The digitization of the election campaigns meant that votes could be cast electronically, in the privacy of their homes, and well in advance of the opening of physical polls. Several identifiers, including biomarkers, were used to verify their identity; early votes could be changed at any time up to the closing of the ballot collection. However, in the interests of not singling out anyone with connectivity problems or who couldn’t access an electronic device, in-person voting facilities were open on the big week. Many citizens preferred being part of the herd, and exercising their civic rights among a crowd.
The results from the large percentage of online voters would be accessible almost instantly, but physical votes from each city, outpost, or colony had to be forwarded by local governments. I hadn’t felt this nervous during my first election, yet the uncertainty of who would emerge victorious today gnawed at me. Polls were indecisive, with turnout from certain demographics likely to play a major part in who was victorious. A major setback was that most human citizens had been barred from participating in the election, which could’ve pushed me over the edge. The soul of Skalga was at stake, in my opinion, and I wasn’t sure how much of our progress Veln could reverse if he took office. His isolationism would bring us further away from humanity at the worst possible time.
I’ve done everything I can with social media outreach and campaign ads. I’ve visited every major city, and run myself ragged going to rural villages and colonies where my popularity is…subpar. Any voters I could sway in Veln’s strongholds would increase my chances.
With the polls due to close in only a few minutes, I found myself watching a compilation of attack ads that Veln had spent significant money circulating on the airwaves and the internet. It wasn’t as if I was innocuous on this front; I’d gone after his meteoric rise as the nominated challenger, claiming he gained the most signatures by inflating his accomplishments within a small colony’s government. “Veln isn’t ready to handle the responsibility of all Venlilkind,” my tagline had proclaimed. I did see my opponent as clever, but someone who lacked a moral backbone or a good vision for our future. My rival was clever enough to claim his platform worked on any scale he’d tackled so far, and slammed my policies by clipping out-of-context quotes.
“Tarva has proven that she cannot handle the responsibility for Venlilkind. Her unilateral decisions have given you no say in your future,” the ad narrator declared, as images of predator disease patients being led out of facilities by humans played on screen. “She takes her ideas straight from the new predators. This was her claim about humans’ knowledge of predator disease.”
A clip of me from the debate played on-screen. “They have a better idea than we do of what’s actually predator behavior.”
“Do you want a puppet leader that trusts humanity’s judgment over our own? Do you think predators have better ideas than us?” The footage showed my rival touring an exterminators’ guild on his colony, and signing documents. “Veln is not a follower. He’s a leader who will listen to what the people want. You know who to vote for.”
I leaned away from Noah on the couch, and held the remote out of his reach as he tried to cut the feed. Glim seemed apathetic from his position in a reclining chair; the rescue had been taken off my last campaign stops, despite how useful he would be to court the exterminator vote. In his current state, he would’ve done more harm than good to my message. It would look like the Terrans were coercing him into supporting me. The next ad in the compilation rolled, going after me on my ties to Earth again.
“While Tarva was running around, chasing the human ambassador, Veln was working for his constituents. Listen to her own words about how much of her policies and recent efforts have centered around Earth,” a different narrator read.
My eyes were narrowed with indignance on screen. “We’ve been through many stressful situations together, from nearly getting shot down en route to Aafa, to our efforts to stop the genocide of Earth, to working hand-in-paw with the cattle rescues that my government and his bargained for the release of, and now to our collaboration for the Summit.”
“Not only did Tarva admit to negotiating with the Arxur, a true predator scourge that eats our children—and ate her own—she also listed all her accomplishments as things on humanity’s agenda. There is no difference between our planets under her leadership.” Behind the narrator’s words, images played of me running with Meier and Noah, as humans stampeded and smoke rose in the background. “By her own admission on the debate stage, your goods will cost more because of higher value-added taxes to fund these adventures. And for all of that, the question remains: what has she done for you? Is your planet better now than it was six years ago?”
The clip ended with the words Vote Veln. No More Federations. flashing atop a picture of my rival holding a baby Venlil. I couldn’t deny that he was excellent at the political game, and it made me seethe. Noah didn’t want me to wind myself up, pouncing toward me to grab my wrist. He pried the remote from my grasp, and switched it over to a livestream of a news channel. The human winked, before pointing to a clock on the mantle. I flicked my ear in acknowledgment, hearing activity through my campaign headquarters.
My diplomatic advisor, Cheln, peeked his head. “Right on time. The polls have closed. I prepared speeches for both outcomes, ma’am, and sent them to your holopad.”
“Thank you. Whatever happens, it’s been an honor working with you,” I acknowledged. “How are the exit polls looking?”
“Depends on the jurisdiction. You’re polling poorly in rural areas, colonies, or the places with the strongest exterminator guilds. Dayside City is leaning toward you, which is good.”
Noah bared his teeth. “Think good thoughts, Tarva. You have a heart of gold; they’d be silly not to re-elect you.”
“Maybe. We both know the amount of change I’ve brought has put me in a precarious position. The polls seem to have slid toward him since the debate; I thought I did well, but those sound bites about humans are hurting me.”
“I’m glad you’ve stood up for us, even when it’s not easy. What do you think, Glim?”
The rescue offered a blank stare. “I think we’re going to lose. Not because people all hate humans, but because people hate how Tarva is way too close to you. And they’re right. You two literally bite each other’s faces.”
Cheln pinned his ears back against his head. “Wait, what?”
“Glim’s not well. You’re dismissed, Cheln,” I said hastily.
The diplomatic advisor couldn’t depart from the room soon enough, and he rejoined the larger crowd assembled around a massive screen in the lobby. I would be there when the results were expected to be known, but in this election, it could come down to the wire. Noah seemed aggravated at Glim, despite the fact that the sweet human rarely showed anger toward any Venlil. Even his patience had limits, though he forgot about the rescue’s snide remarks as his eyes darted to our television set. The Terran beamed and pecked me on the cheek, as the 64% who voted early had tilted 50.8% in my favor, compared to Veln’s 49.2%.
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However, I knew better than to celebrate this early, with it being this close and the rural villages being the ones that skewed toward in-person ballot casting. It would’ve been preferable if my margin here was wider, rather than depending on the last third of the votes to be favorable. I cozied up to the astronaut with unspeakable weariness, shooting a warning look at Glim not to mouth off again. After the unfathomable stress of the past few months, I wasn’t sure I was ready for this claw-biting, long night waiting for results to come in across our space.
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Dayside City, the capital and home of the most humans on Skalga, was among the first provinces to send results. 65% of the in-person voters called for my re-election, though I wasn’t sure how much I should read into that. The ones who were Terran dissidents had long since moved out of the city, so if anything, it was discouraging that nearly a third had sided with Veln. Other major cities turned out even less promising results, with me narrowly holding the physical votes in almost all, except for Tonalu City skewing 53.4% toward my opponent. That still padded my lead, and Noah seemed ready to take a victory lap. I respected his optimism.
I don’t know why, but I’ve had a bad feeling about this election since the day began. Maybe it’s just my nerves…internally, I’m not confident I have the support of my people. Even if I do win, it’s clear from these margins that the planet is divided.
That was the last good news we’d had in the evening. Rural villages like Celgel Falls, home to Glim’s aunt, poured in their tepid amounts of votes, but several skewed around the 75% mark in Veln’s favor. While one small settlement wouldn’t have been enough to make a dent in my lead of millions, together, they were eating into the metropolitan vote. These people had always been traditionalists, and were known to be less than cordial with human refugees; lack of interaction with Terrans meant they never had the opportunity to change their minds.
“You can’t win them all,” Noah had said, trying to massage the tension from my shoulders.
The issue was that I wasn’t winning any, and that my campaign efforts in those areas didn’t seem to have stopped the bleeding. It was a blowout in every single village, which I could imagine Veln feeling the swing of momentum. The colonies only lowered the gap further, and the numbers made my heart plummet. My opponent had been actively ferrying voters on his home colony, Milna, to the polls, and even been on one of those transports himself to plead his case in his already strongest territory. I thought it had been a foolish play, since he already had their votes as a popular governor, but rehashing his beloved tenure paid dividends. Milna was one of the last colonies to report their totals because they nearly doubled a record in-person turnout; Veln was seen as their candidate.
“Veln is a hometown hero who hasn’t forgotten his roots, if you ask voters on Milna,” Jonek had announced on the election coverage broadcast. “Off of Venlil Prime’s soil, she’s seen as the Governor of humans. Perhaps it would’ve been wise to distance herself more from the UN.”
Not good. Colonies never feel attached to affairs of the homeworld, but even ones without Veln the visitor are bringing turnout. They have a stake in the humans’ arrival, and the ones who don’t are no more inclined to vote than past elections.
My numerical advantage had been millions away from my opponent, and seemed insurmountable to Noah, had shrunk to a sliver as the night progressed. The rural villages whittled down my advantage to half of its original count; the unexpected turnout at Milna was the start of a continuing skid. By the time all colonies had reported, my lead was at a mere 493 votes. I fielded calls from the UN Secretary-General wishing me luck and thanking me for everything I’d done for humanity, which I think was Zhao’s way of saying they thought there was a good chance I might lose. The Earthlings must be scrambling to figure out how to deal with a possible Governor Veln, and they didn’t want to spring goodbyes on me if I was unseated.
Jonek perked his ears as the camera, as the news broadcast returned from a break. “Hello! If you’re tuning in expecting us to hear who the new Governor of Skalga is, we have one province outstanding—the science settlement of Eliga, which has been under sandstorm conditions and is just making contact now. I’m told we can expect results from them in a few minutes. What an election it’s been! Polling in Eliga has been a tossup, and it wasn’t visited by Tarva or Veln: this could go either way.”
“We should go outside with the others,” Noah whispered. “Governor or not, I’ll always love you.”
I wrapped my prosthetic tail around his wrist. “I love you too. If I had to do everything all over again, the only thing I’d change is sending that distress signal in the first place. We’ll get through this.”
“Of course we will! Worst that happens is you retire from public service, and we get to run off together like I’ve imagined for months. That’s not so terrible, right?”
“It is what I want, but humanity needs me in charge of Skalga, to preserve our close alliance.”
“The Venlil can’t go back completely, love. You gave us a chance, you made sure millions of people who never would’ve thought about dealing with predators did the same, and you saved our species to boot. You’ve done so much; we couldn’t ask any more. Don’t worry about humans, because you’ve done more than your part on our behalf.”
Emotion swelled in my throat, as I marched toward the doorway to enter the lobby with the rest of the staff. These could be my last moments as the leader of Skalga; regardless of what Noah said, I felt responsible for the efficacy of my campaign strategies. How could I justify keeping our relationship quiet to maintain my office if I lost my position to a populist charmer like Veln? How could I have any say in decisions affecting millions of Terran refugees on this planet? I cared about what happened to the Earthlings; that was the sole reason I sought re-election at all—for their sake.
Noah glanced over his shoulder toward Glim. “Do you want to come with us, and watch the results with the group? We’d love for you to join us.”
“No,” the rescue mumbled.
“Why not? You were a part of this team as much as anyone else.”
“I helped Tarva because I owed her my life…not b-because I think she’s a fitting Governor. A real Venlil wouldn’t have argued for…f-for an Arxur to speak at the Summit. I hope Veln wins.”
I flinched at that sudden admission from the cattle rescue. How could he oppose my candidacy, after my policies freed millions like him from abhorrent conditions? I had volunteered to help with the reintroduction program because I cared about these mistreated Venlil. A scowl took over my astronaut’s features, and his fist clenched beneath my coiled tail. Noah didn’t speak another word to Glim, instead hurrying out with me to the lobby. I tried to clear that exchange from my mind, but the sinking feeling that plagued me all day had reached its crescendo. I didn’t have a good feeling about how the votes from Eliga would shake out in my gut.
“Ma’am.” Kam flicked his ears in acknowledgement, as we fell in beside him and Cheln. “The moment of truth. I’ve argued on behalf of your policies, even when I didn’t agree with them. You couldn’t have been more right about humans. I’m proud to have served your administration.”
“Thank you, General,” I whispered. “Thank you for your service to our planet. Let’s save the goodbyes or congratulations for after we hear the results, though.”
“Copy that.”
An eerie silence overtook the lobby area, as dozens of staffers saw Jonek scan some new information off screen. The Venlil journalist took a moment to prepare himself, savoring the suspense of the ultimate verdict. The knowing glint in his eyes confirmed that the results of the election were known, before he ever said a word. Eliga flashed orange to signify that it had been tallied on the visual aid map; all we needed was to hear the counts that would usher me into a second term, or elect a new Governor in my stead. It was all I could do not to bury my eyes in Noah’s chest, and press my paws over my ears to avoid hearing. The impending news was almost too much to bear.
Jonek cleared his throat. “Eliga has submitted its votes, and with the last outstanding province in, Dayside News Feed can now declare the new Governor-elect. After winning the city’s vote by a percentage of 54.6%, the 103rd Governor of the Venlil homeworld will be…”
The journalist paused for dramatic effect, and my breath hitched in my throat. The election would be delivered with his next words, signaling what the voters had chosen for the future of Skalga. I hoped that, whatever decision they had reached, it would turn out well for both the Venlil people and our sincerest allies.