Memory transcription subject: Tarva, Exiting Governor of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: March 17, 2137
Jonek straightened his ears, and pronounced the name of the next governor. “…Veln.”
My campaign had ended with the dramatic loss of my title; I’d given my concession speech in a daze, and issued thanks to the United Nations’ people for all the work we’d done together. With nothing left to lose over our secret, Ambassador Noah and I stood hand in paw at my desk, as I prepared to hand over the governor’s duties to Veln. My most trusted advisors were also present, though Glim was a no-show after his barbed words yesterday. When I’d tried to broach the subject with my human astronaut, he'd deflected, saying he was concerned about how I was handling the loss. I believed that was a true statement, but Noah clearly was furious at Glim’s opinionated outburst toward me.
It was customary for some staff from previous administrations to be kept on, if they were viewed as competent in their duties; Cheln had been a holdover from the previous organization to me. Military advisors like Kam would’ve had a better shot at sticking around, had the Venlil general not been a strong proponent of the human alliance. It remained to be seen how firebrand Veln would be as the man-in-charge, and how thoroughly he would cash in his campaign promises. The governor-elect strolled into his office, having given an acceptance speech I didn’t bother to watch on the reception lawn.
I can be gracious in defeat, even if I’m worried about what will happen to our alliance with the humans. Veln can’t undo all the progress we’ve made, after we’re in this deep. The people spoke, and they didn’t have faith in my agenda…so I didn’t deserve to win.
Veln wrapped up his speech to arrive in my office with exact promptness, on the dot for when the highest seat in Skalga was officially his. Away from where the cameras were rolling, he was all business; there was a shrewdness in his eyes, though he made a point not to acknowledge Noah and I’s intertwined grips. The new governor took the long way around the desk, to avoid passing us as a couple, and leaned back in the chair. He flicked his ears in satisfaction, and gestured to the recently cleared off desk as though imagining where his personal possessions would go. He then took inventory of the advisors that showed their faces, before finally speaking.
“You. You should consider yourself relieved of your position,” the former colony governor spoke, indicating to Noah with his tail. “I want a real diplomat from the United Nations here. Someone who can talk policies, negotiate our disagreements, and represent your government on a technical level. I know humans have people like that.”
Ambassador Williams offered a tight smile. “I’ll reach out to them. Someone from the embassy staff will be in contact within the day.”
“Good. But don’t go yet, because there’s more to that message—some of what I tell Cheln may apply to you. My diplomatic advisor will do much more legwork than under the previous administration; are you up for that, Cheln? Do you want to stay on?”
Cheln gave me an apologetic ear flick. “Sir, I’d be happy to continue to serve the governor’s office.”
“Very good. Then I want several orders on my desk today, so start taking notes and preparing papers for my signature, press releases, and social media posts. Yes, I do understand the last one isn’t your job, but I want a cohesive communication strategy. You’re going to work with my online presence manager so we’re on the same page.”
“Understood, Governor Veln.”
“Okay, my first order…businesses and municipalities have the right to require visors for binocular-eyed individuals.”
I couldn’t hold in my gasp of outrage, at the thought of humans being forced to conceal their eyes on our streets. It was better than Veln attempting to throw the Terran refugees off our worlds and revoke their citizenship, but this insulted a piece of their very existence: implying that they were offensive to look at. Such an infringement on the rights of human residents who were equal under the law, singling them out for eye placement, made my prosthetic tail stiffen with fury. How much damage could this do to our alliance with Earth? How would I feel, out on a date with Noah, if he was forced to wear a visor?
I remember how the external pressure to hide the predatory aspects of his appearance caused him to devalue his own worth on Aafa. I won’t let anyone hurt Noah: not even the rightful governor of Skalga.
“How dare you?” I hissed, flailing my tail with outrage.
Noah squeezed my wrist. “It’s alright, Tarva. Calm down; you don’t have to stick up for us anymore.”
“I want to. You’re people, just as much as anyone else, and I won’t stand for anyone treating you like monsters.”
Veln swished his tail in a patient gesture. “I admire what you tried to do, Tarva. A member of your campaign staff told me about you and your human lover—I could’ve gone a lot further than vague insinuation on the debate stage—but I didn’t. I don’t hate humans, but I find that highly inappropriate. Tell me, do you think that’s the sort of thing that should’ve been disclosed to the public?”
Fucking Glim. The rescue said he wanted Veln to win; he must’ve been upset when my rival didn’t use the information to ruin me. No good deed goes unpunished.
“I don’t see what my personal life has to do with denying millions of people the right to show their face!” I spat, fury causing my pitch to climb.
“I’ll explain for Noah to pass along to the United Nations in a moment. But what I’m saying, Tarva, is that the people don’t want change. Not all at once. They want stability, and to feel in control of their destiny,” Veln announced, as if it were self-evident. “Shit, if I went as all out as my campaign promises, they’d resent me too by next election.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I won’t uproot any lives, but I read the planet’s temperature and I plan to take it down a notch. I’ll give them enough of what they want to avoid civic unrest, and enough of what the humans want so that they can live with me. Public perception is what’s important, and I plan to be a very popular governor—like I was on Milna.”
“You think humans can live with a regression of their civic rights? You still haven’t addressed what this order means for them!”
“I have plenty of time; I was getting there. Rural villages were asking to have humans banned from setting foot in their towns; frankly, I’m not sure why they’d be suicidal enough to go there, but I digress. Businesses want to be allowed not to serve humans without fear of reprisal. So all in all, this is a lukewarm policy, and I have valid reasons. Noah Williams, do you know how many Venlil have been hospitalized on this planet due to binocular eye-induced fainting, since the Battle of Earth?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The astronaut shifted with discomfort. “No.”
“12,931. Though those could be outdated statistics, since it’s from this morning. I won’t tell you how many died from their fright, because it’s not fair—but I’ll tell you it’s not zero. So yes, I think that if an elderly business owner feels they can’t look at your eyes without fainting, they should have a right to require visors. Or maybe they don’t want the liability if someone passes out on their premises. It doesn’t hurt you…and when you send me an actual diplomat, I’ll be happy to pencil in exceptions should you need to remove them for safety or to engage in an activity.”
As much as I wanted to argue against the proposition, Veln had a valid point over the public health concern. It lingered in the back of my mind that Noah felt responsible for stampede deaths from his arrival, so I knew he’d personally sacrifice his comfort to ensure the safety of Venlil citizens. When framed in that light, the astronaut likely was nodding along with the new governor’s logic internally. Most businesses, at least in Dayside City, would be unlikely to employ such a policy, since it would cost them millions of potential customers. It also might help to lessen potential hostility toward Terrans in backwaters like Celgel Falls, where Glim’s aunt was housed; despite prohibition of travel technically being illegal, several businesses and villages already tried to ban humans from their territory.
Veln’s intention seems to be to score points with his core constituencies, but at least he’s thinking of humans…and doesn’t seem hostile toward them.
“Venlil don’t make decisions for humans, and vice versa. I suspect Terran refugees would be happy with that bargain: not having our values imposed on them.” The new governor signaled “free planet” in tail language, before launching into his next policy. “Alright, Cheln. I want some funds allocated toward exterminator upgrades, conveniently to upgrade equipment and add new departments to ‘spread the workload.’ See what I did?”
I twisted my ears in confusion. “You want them to separate their duties?”
“Totally. They’re worked too hard, and that’s all I’m going to give you on my motives. Right, next item: predator disease facilities. We’re launching the Violent Crime Prevention Program pronto. I’m targeting violent strains of the disease with the majority of our resources—which conveniently, should give you the majority of what you wanted. Human experts are welcome to draft some guidelines for warning signs.”
“Because they know all about violence? Is that the implication?”
“Ah, it’s not my fault what people assume. I have no control over that—and I’m sure Venlil who’d jump to that conclusion would believe that about humans regardless. Right, just a few more things, gotta have a productive day one. Next up…immigrants to Venlil Prime from other worlds will not be allowed to vote until six years have passed from the acceptance of their citizenship, to prevent foreign nationals from influencing our politics.”
“Mostly to keep Terran refugees from voting in the next provincial governor elections.”
“Humans shouldn’t be able to move to our planet and tell us what to do. Remember what I said about imposing values? I want people who vote to have stayed here and showed their commitment to us. If I didn’t want any Earthlings voting, I wouldn’t have let those who’ve already gotten citizenship cast ballots in the next governor election. The humans will know who gave them a path to voting rights, and the Venlil people will know who stopped a sudden influx of predators from swaying our elections. Win-win.”
The more I listened to Veln detail his policies, it seemed that he was attempting to play both sides with compromise items. The governor seemed to agree with various revelations that humans gave us, if I could read between the lines, but he wanted to appease the constituents who weren’t thrilled about our entire foundation of knowledge being ripped apart. By my own grudging admission, it was a clever strategy; for the sake of political gain, he was more worried about appearances than reality. I could understand I gave the perception that I went along with anything suggested by humanity. What I couldn’t understand why he’d insisted on spelling out his planned changes with me, a deposed rival, in the room.
Perhaps this is, as humans say, a wink and a nod to show Veln is on my side, for some issues…and that his rhetoric is aimed at winning over the masses? Or is this about gloating that he’s a better governor?
I heaved a flustered sigh. “Congratulations on your victory, Veln, but as the unseated governor, now an ordinary citizen, I’m not sure why my presence is needed here. What I think of your policies doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, but it does, because I have something in mind for you,” the Venlil replied, with a casual tail swish. “It’s about the Sapient Coalition. Now that we’ve made our planet’s affairs independent from human influence, I have decided it’s best to remain in the organization to keep an eye on them…write this down, Cheln. As I was saying, to keep an eye on them so we know what they’re planning, and can enjoy the pure military benefits of the alliance.”
“I’m glad to hear that you won’t try to withdraw from the Sapient Coalition, but if that’s all you wanted me to hear, you could’ve led with that.”
“Tarva, that’s your project. Before you were governor, you were our ambassador to the Federation. I want you to resume a role you were actually well-suited for: to be our ambassador to the Sapient Coalition. It’ll keep you in diplomatic contact with humanity, and honestly, I doubt there’s anyone more comfortable or connected in the Earth department. Plus, I’ll be too busy with affairs here to handle that myself.”
I was silent for several seconds, shocked by the request. “Uh, with respect, you just said that you didn’t want us entangled with humanity. In that role, I imagine I’ll be expected to follow your orders and wishes. You’ll want me to sell them on policies I don’t agree with: your policies.”
“I know you know how to do that, Tarva. I’m sure it’ll be difficult, after being governor, to take a step down, and to answer to the same person you lost to, no less. But I want to show that we’re not enemies, like I said earlier, to lower the political temperature…and if we show how magnanimous I am along the way, wonderful. I thought you’d have some reservations, so I did think of a small incentive as a…signing bonus.”
“What’s that? Don’t you dare lord something involving the humans’ welfare over my head.”
“Nonsense: my offer was a benign topic. I wouldn’t play with lives; I’m not the Federation! My incentive was about that referendum for the planet’s name. In the interest of self-determination, it should be up to the people—though I do intend to speak my piece on why I’m not a fan of ‘Skalga.’ You agree to be my ambassador, and I’ll get the process in motion.”
I turned an inquisitive gaze on Noah, who’d been silent throughout the process. The human was attempting not to interfere with the newly elected governor, and he wasn’t more vocal about what decision I should make. Without saying a word, the sideways glance of his binocular eyes told me that he thought I should follow what I wanted to do; I could rely on his affection and support, as long as I was happy. Beneath that, I could sense that the former ambassador wasn’t fond of people like Veln. On a personal level, it was difficult for me to trust anyone who was so calculating with their appearances, but having a chance to ensure our continued friendship with Earth and its allies trumped that. Securing positive relations with the predators had been my life’s most meaningful work.
My ears flattened with reluctance. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Glad to hear it! Oh, and before you and Noah run along…if humankind has a particular objection to anything I proposed, I’m willing to negotiate. However, I’d need a concession in return that can score me equal political points,” Veln said. “Will that be a suitable arrangement, Mr. Williams?”
Noah dipped his head. “We’re accustomed to people like you. I’m sure we can work with that.”
“Delightful. I look forward to more productive conversations with your replacement. You both may leave. Kam has classified briefings for the governor’s ears only, I’m sure.”
I forced a polite farewell in tail language, not appreciating that parting shot; Veln couldn’t resist sneaking in a reminder of his victory, perhaps in response to Noah’s thinly-veiled distaste toward him. As we departed the governor’s office for the final time, I reminded myself that protecting humanity from persecution was more important than pride. The governor could’ve been more radical with his newfound power, and it was a small victory that I wouldn’t be iced out of galactic politics. I couldn’t say that the responsibility of an entire planet would be one I missed. If anything, my narrow defeat allowed Noah and I to spend our future together unrestricted.
What came next for humanity and Venlilkind was out of my paws now, but I hoped I’d done enough to lay the groundwork for a peaceful future between our two species.