Memory transcription subject: Ambassador Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: April 7, 2137
The past few weeks had been packed with important events, falling alongside the stunning victory at Aafa. With the prototype cure set to be injected into my veins, Noah and I had taken the opportunity to visit Earth after the Skalga referendum. Both of his parents were deceased, but he introduced me to a few of his surviving relatives: an aunt, a second cousin, and a cousin-in-law. Culture in his part of the world was centered on the nuclear family, rather than extended, but everyone I spoke to was proud to be related to an astronaut with such a sterling reputation. We were given a private tour of NASA headquarters—the organization responsible for our meeting. The evening was complete with the promised watching the alien sunset in a hammock, and dining with otherworldly food.
I had been quite impressed with Earth’s resilience, and was received warmly by the locals. One comment from a stranger about me being “one of the good ones” confused me, but other than that, I was treated with reverence. To think I’d ever been frightened of these predators, or worried about visiting the homeworld where their numbers were billions. Their enterprising culture was intoxicating, with contrasting places across the globe that could inspire our children. I wondered if Skalga could’ve cultivated such differences, without the Federation’s mellowing. Maybe we still could, with time to shake off their interference. When it was time to stand before my people, as the first to accept a human-engineered serum, I had been ready.
There were no adverse effects that I noticed, as Governor Veln applauded my courage and renounced the Federation. For all the supposed risks, it hadn’t been worth fretting; every blood test showed that the counter-edits had taken well, and that everything was as the science predicted. It was a matter of waiting for the next candidates to go through the process, though it was difficult to be patient. When a human scientist reached out to me about locating a donor, I couldn’t rush down there quickly enough. However much I’d failed my first daughter, I was stronger now than before—and I knew Noah would protect our children with his life, too. We were taking the initial steps to transforming the Venlil, back into a fearsome, unyielding race.
Now that I’m expecting a child, Noah has been all but falling over himself to help me. He’s trying to do everything for me; it’s like he thinks I’ll break at a gust of wind! We still have six months to go.
The astronaut smiled softly at me, while wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “The Treaty of Sol: signed unconditionally by Chief Maronis, before we ever penned the terms. How do you feel, trying to bring about lasting peace?”
“All I ever wanted was for you to have the right to exist. I want the same for us now. I know there’s still a lot of work to be done, picking up the pieces of the Federation…an organization that stood centuries. Humanity needs to find a path for your era to last just as long. So many complications, parties, and old wounds that could impede progress,” I answered.
“We’ve made it this far, and don’t forget, we’re persistence predators. We will dedicate ourselves to this role, as mediators, for as long as it takes. There’s so much reason for hope. Herbivores cohabitating with humans beyond even Skalga. Earth, staving off extinction time and again, against all odds. Truth and reason prevailing over fear and ignorance, despite the fact it took centuries. The Duerten Shield showing up to our treaty signing. You and I, throwing off the Federation’s influence with our lovely family.”
“You’re right. I am surprised to see Ambassador Coji, looking all repentant. Hopefully, she won’t make us regret delaying these proceedings until her faction arrived.”
“The Duerten Shield might’ve used a lot of their bombs in the battle, but they still have ships in orbit. We’ve been able to stall for a while, under our claim that we’re doing a thorough job thumbing through prisoners, shadow caste citizens, information, and asylum-seekers alike. However, with food dwindling and no supply chain, they won’t wait much longer for the green light. We need to sort out what we do with Aafa as the first item on our list.”
“After what happened to Kalqua, I don’t know how Zhao plans to talk them down. I’d hate for humanity to shoot the Duerten ships, just when we’re finally making progress.”
“We don’t need more enemies; let’s hope it won't come to that. I think we’re going to find out the Secretary-General’s plans now.”
Noah hovered beside me at the Venlil station, and his brown eyes turned to the podium. Zhao was mounting the stage with methodical footsteps; the borrowed tradition of applause greeted him, this time with rousing fervor. The Sapient Coalition members chose to stand beside humanity, despite the mismatch on paper, and were thrilled that we had come out on top. Earth’s cunning, daring efforts were both appreciated and respected, so it went unquestioned that the United Nations was taking charge in these proceedings. If these diplomats were told a year ago that they’d be delighted at the fall of the Federation, by the hands of new predators, it would’ve been unthinkable. I felt pride to be sitting among an array of species, with peers who could devote ourselves to peace without interference.
My choice to befriend humanity will save trillions of future lives, and liberate the galaxy from tampering and oppression. Perhaps there were things we could’ve done better—sacrifices we wish we didn’t have to make—but I wouldn’t abandon the Terrans for the universe.
Zhao raised his hands in a humble gesture, as the praise continued. “Thank you for the warm welcome, friends. As you all know, Kolshian tyranny is no more, with the karmic resolution of the Battle of Aafa. While this meeting is about progress, and how we move forward to better days, I’d like to take a moment to look back at all that we’ve lost. Recent revelations showed how easy it is to rewrite history; we have a mandate to learn from the past, even with its darkest moments. Let us have a moment of silence for the innocent lives lost on Earth, and every other world that suffered from raiders—Nishtal, the cradle, Kalqua—and many others throughout the centuries.”
The chamber fell into a hushed silence, with many diplomats recalling a loved one taken as cattle and attacks on several worlds. I recalled what it was like to decide to pull the life support on my daughter, and the looks in the humans’ eyes at Earth’s memorial service, before the bomb that removed my tail. Noah placed a hand atop my prosthetic, as it tightened around his wrist. The choked quietness was broken only by the occasional cough and sniffle; there was a collective weight to the loss, with all of us gathered there. When the Secretary-General deigned to break the silence, it was a merciful reprieve from those heavy emotions.
“So much senseless slaughter, just in the short time we’ve been an active force in space. It is why the items on my agenda are all related to dealing with our enemies, active and subdued, then followed by establishing protocols for diplomacy with powers outside our circle. There will be plenty of time for us to find our footing, and sort out what kind of organization the SC will be. My sole demand inside our borders is a simple one, anyway: that the Sapient Rights document all of you sign is applied, unequivocally, to humans. I want to trust in the safety of our citizens traveling abroad, as we attempt to integrate and spread out,” Zhao said.
Gojid Minister Kiri chewed at her claws. “Despite my repeated directives, it’s difficult to get the exterminators in line. With only a few colonies left, the Gojidi Union is in tatters. You have my word that we’re cracking down on bigotry, and punishing offenders; it would be remiss not to mention that it’ll take time to normalize human residents.”
“I understand that you cannot eliminate all anti-predator radicals. I simply ask for a zero tolerance policy, and for your best efforts to weed out physical mistreatment of humans. I’ll discuss this more at our internal meeting, next week, but the United Nations wishes to open embassies on all SC worlds—and for you to open annexes on our soil as well. We will dedicate entire teams to learning your cultures and strengthening relations, but the same respect will be needed from you, as our partners.”
Nuela, from the Krakotl delegation, raised a tentative wing. “While more Krakotl side with my separatist movement by the day, the traditional government still contests our power. I’m not sure it would be…wise, to grant you an embassy on one of our colonies.”
“Humanity has plans to implement you as the singular Krakotl faction, and back your government in the necessary ways: however, I believe that falls outside the scope of today’s discussion. I’ll be happy to address individual concerns at length next time. For now, let us focus on the fallout of this war, and what we’ll do with our enemies. It’s important to me that we don’t preside over senseless loss of life, and that we make assurances to draw surrenders from the two hundred plus Federation subsidiaries. I seek the war’s end, so that humanity can live at peace…so that none of us have to lose more lives. It’s why reducing cities on Aafa to ash is an unacceptable outcome.”
“You’re trying to stop us from finishing what we came to Aafa for, after we upheld our end of the bargain?” Ambassador Coji squawked. “I helped delay for the sake of your investigation, and now, you’re changing our agreement?”
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“We have a proposal that we believe fulfills our agreement, while sparing those who had no say or role in Kalqua’s attack. We’ve rounded up the millions of shadow caste members, and transported them painstakingly to a habitable exoplanet in an unclaimed system. We’ll transfer them into the Shield’s custody, no questions asked, in exchange for Aafa being spared. Whatever it is you want to do to the people responsible, that’s at your discretion. This is much more efficient and accurate than dropping what bombs you have left on civilians; it is justice against the perpetrators. What do you think?”
“In those shiplog recordings, you said that you would hunt every conspirator down. That the bombs would miss the people responsible…who were hiding underground. I suppose this arrangement is suitable, but I don’t want the entire Kolshian race to be roaming the stars like they did nothing! And what about their colonies?”
“Chief Maronis relayed orders for them to stand down, and self-destruct any remaining ships. We surveyed the colonies through extensive scans, for any hideouts or suspicious activity. You all heard the Chief’s faulty rationale about predator disease, on our videos; we can combat his misinformation, now that we have the truth. Each of your offices should’ve received an extensive packet of research about prion diseases that exist on Earth, as well as their modes of transmission and behavior. With their purpose invalidated, the Commonwealth are nothing. They will be sequestered and surveilled for some time.”
Zurulian Prime Minister Braylen tilted his head. “Have you acquired any of these prions for the Galactic Institute of Medicine to study, and confirm your findings? Why did the Kolshians never discover the infectious agent, despite years of study?”
“I believe it’s near impossible that we’ll find anything. To our knowledge, prions can only survive for a few years in soil and water—it’s been centuries. Contaminated grounds were isolated, and the water was treated with strict enough conditions to eliminate the proteins; ironically enough, sustained high temperatures are the only way we know to kill those things. By burning the corpses, the Kolshians killed the microbes, and by the time they had the means to detect the cause, they’d succeeded in eradicating it. Now, are there any objections to our plans for Aafa?”
“How long do you intend for them to be surveilled?” the Thafki ambassador piped up.
“Years. We’ll install a rebel government that operates under UN authority. Perhaps every half-decade, they’ll be up for parole; we can evaluate their societal transformation. Regardless of if they’re allowed to engage in some capacity, they won’t have a fleet as long as this war is in living memory. The Kolshians need to prove their species’ good intentions, to atone for an era.”
The Secretary-General’s eyes roved over the crowd, searching for any further objections. Punitive actions against the shadow fleet would be a start; I hoped the Duerten rendered agony upon all of the conspirators. I wished the Terrans had handed over the Farsul elders they’d taken hostage, so that their trial would be a bit less civilized—for everything they’d done to species 45-G. It was ironic that the humans and the Venlil were both above-average on aggression and emotionality, like our neighboring planets had evolved to be the closest pals. As much as they wanted to mend bridges, I hoped the predators would take the gravity of our injuries into consideration. Skalga would need an adequate plan spelled out for all hostile parties, especially for how Talsk would be handled.
Locking the Farsul homeworld in a “Kessler cage” was an impenetrable imprisonment, but if we can fully finish this war with the Treaty of Sol, there needs to be a long-term solution. They should be sequestered for just as long as the Kolshians, with their role of deciding how to alter other races. Historians and archaeologists, my ass.
Zhao smiled, unmasked in this speech. “I’m happy we could reach an accord, Ambassador Coji. I’m saving talks about most neutral parties for later, but I’d like to continue our military alliance with the Duerten Shield—a full-fledged mutual pact. While the handling of non-aggressors was the last item on my agenda, let me spare a moment to say humanity doesn’t extend our embassy plan just to the Sapient Coalition. We’d like embassies on every Shield world, and for your parties to come to Earth. Our relations don’t need to be so frosty.”
“We wish to remain separate entities from the Coalition, rather than to join you. However, opening our doors to human diplomats should be acceptable,” Coji answered.
“Excellent. I’m grateful for every friend we can find in the stars. It’s a shame that there is a long list of parties who’ve aggrieved us, siding with the Federation. The top of the list, as I’m sure the listeners are waiting for me to get to, is the Farsul. We were unable to devote the manpower to an occupation of Talsk, and that remains true, even after the war ends. What we must do is monitor them, to ensure they don’t build anything, and we can’t do that without any ship traffic or sensor contact. The blockade must come down.”
I lashed my tail in irritation. “The Venlil Republic wishes for the species who crippled us to remain in isolation. Unlike the Kolshians, the Farsul civilians had an idea of what was going on. Founder’s Day, a festival where they sold our artifacts back to us, was a community effort—it’s a glaring example of the rot at their heart. Respectfully, I don’t see a reason why we’d let any of them out, any time soon.”
There were a few murmurs of agreement from the gathered diplomats. Noah knitted his brows together beside me, seemingly worried by me putting a voice to my government’s position of vengeance. While it was Veln’s official stance that the Farsul’s alterations were monstrous, it was obvious I agreed with the idea that our cripplers couldn’t get off lightly. Human compassion was something I adored about them, but with an issue this personal, I felt obligated to demand justice. How many years had the Venlil been mocked as the galaxy’s weakest species? How many children, like my daughter, had died or been captured, because our paws were tied behind our back? With our natural temperament, we could’ve fought back against the Arxur.
The Secretary-General’s lips twitched with sympathy. “I was there when we told you about our findings at the Archives, Ambassador. Our hearts go out to the Venlil for what was done to you. I reiterate that we do not seek more loss of life, so unless we plan to glass them, we need to attack their ideology. To show them the error of their ways. Keeping Talsk totally cut off, as a form of collective punishment, will serve to radicalize civilians. We won’t change hearts and minds like that. We won’t rid their planet of Federation methods and propaganda, so this system will live on.”
“Where was the resistance on Talsk?” I fired back. “You can’t rid them of something with no pushback. This isn’t about innocent people.”
“You’re right. The Farsul aren’t innocent, not most of them. They don’t realize they’re doing anything wrong. But if there’s one person—maybe a child—that’s innocent, then it’s worth it to try to fix it. None of this will be easy, since change and healing take years, decades. I know it’s not easy to think of ever forgiving a wound as grave as what was inflicted on your species…just as we still feel rage for Earth. This is about the big picture, for our children and our children’s children.”
“Mr. Secretary-General, I’m more willing to tolerate the very Arxur who ordered the raid than these monsters. I want my children to have a bright future, but I cannot forget what was taken from us. The Venlil, and every other species who’ve had their lives turned upside-down, cannot.”
“And you should not. Rest assured, we are not just letting the Farsul back into the galaxy, any more than the Kolshians. I propose the same parole system, and without reformation, they will never touch the galaxy again. We’ll engineer one lane in and out, which will allow us to monitor that they’re not building any weapons to disintegrate the cage from the ground. Any traffic will require UN approval, a stringent process reserved for asylum seekers and any needed supplies. I agree that they’ve lost the right to be a part of our community in this generation. I’m just proposing an action for a far-off day they earn it back.”
I stewed over the Terran leader’s words for several seconds, sensing the gazes of every diplomat on me. The Sapient Coalition didn’t back humanity’s decision not to bomb certain worlds, though they went along with it; there was a great deal of anger over centuries of oppression. My mind harkened back to how I’d told Chief Hunter Isif that I could never forgive him for what he’d done, even if I recognized that he was the best bet toward peace. Elias Meier had offered a dying wish of peace between me and the Arxur, and I’d been moved by it. I could appreciate that Zhao had a similar desire for us to find a way to move forward with the Farsul.
What did Zhao say back at the Summit? “Humanity is willing to give everything of ourselves for peace?” If these sweet predators say that, after everything they’ve suffered, how can I be a true friend to them without doing the same?
Noah leaned down, whispering in my ear. “The Farsul don’t hold power over us anymore. Our children will have everything they took from us, and more. We are going to have a beautiful life. I trust you, Tarva, to do the right thing, even when it isn’t easy. Even when your entire world won’t agree.”
“This is different from trusting a predator race. It’s harder.” My heart was tight with sorrow, as I answered my beloved in a hushed tone; it was about more than doing a moral, yet unpopular, deed. It was trusting humanity, one final time, to act in our best interests. “I want you to have the peace and harmony you desire. If I believe the Arxur can change, I guess the Farsul deserve the same chance. I know you’ll never let anything happen like that to us again.”
“We’ll be your guardians. There will be nothing stronger than our love and our kindness together. You can count on that.”
“I know, Noah.” Tears welled in my eyes, as I straightened up to give Zhao an answer. “The Venlil Republic would like personal updates from the UN on all matters regarding the Farsul’s handling. I ask for this as a personal favor, though I will put aside my own feelings either way.”
The Secretary-General ducked his head. “With how much the Venlil have been affected, that’s a fair request; we’ll see that you’re kept in the loop. Thank you for working with us here. I can see that emotions are, understandably, running high, so I suggest we take a ten-minute recess, and clear our minds before tackling the back half of our agenda. We’ll reconvene for the rest of the items then.”
Chatter rose up as soon as the predator stepped back from the microphone. Noah was staring at me with a mix of pride, and also concern, perhaps that my stress levels would affect the baby. I allowed him to guide me out of the room; his hands grabbed a tissue from a table, and he dabbed at my eyes lightly. There was a question swirling in his pupils, even while he focused on comforting me. I made a mental note to ask him what was on his mind later. For now, my focus needed to be on keeping my composure, and engaging with the final aspects of our peacetime accord.
Humanity could count on my cooperation, as well as my unwavering attention, as they sought to wrap up the treaty convention.