Memory transcription subject: Ambassador Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: April 7, 2137
As I turned to stroll back into the auditorium for Zhao’s resumption, I noticed that Noah hadn’t followed me. Immediate concern blossomed in my heart, knowing how unusual that was. Ever since I’d begun my pregnancy, the astronaut had stuck close to me, like I was a fragile object that might fall apart, if left unattended. Mere moments before, the former Ambassador Williams had been comforting me after the Farsul topic stirred up my sorrow for my species. Was the human having sudden medical complications? I whirled around to check on him, and found that the predator had inexplicably lost his footing.
Noah was hunched over on one knee, extending a velvet box in his hands. His binocular eyes peered up at me with love and sincerity; he popped open the container to reveal a metal band, with a sparkling gemstone atop it. I tilted my head in confusion, not understanding what the predator was up to. Was this some Terran ritual I was unfamiliar with? Despite my lack of recognition, I could sense the charged aura of emotion between us. The astronaut’s lips curved upward, as he gave voice to the unspoken question that had been in his mind.
“Tarva, nobody has ever made me feel as complete and sure-footed as you. You are my world, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” the human rumbled.
“W-what?” The tears that had been spilling from sorrow renewed, but this time, it was from an overpowering deluge of love. It seemed this was a tradition for how the predators proposed to their loved ones; Noah wanted a commitment, to uphold our relationship until our final days. “Yes. Yes! I can’t wait to start a family together, as husband and wife.”
The human rose and clasped my wrist with a gentle hand, before carefully sliding the ring onto my toe. It felt a bit strange and tight, but it must be some sort of symbol of commitment. I’d seen humans wearing similar objects before, and come to think of it, all of them were in long-term relationships. We hadn’t talked about marriage rituals between our two species at all, though I was sure we’d have plenty of time to plan and mingle our traditions. When my ex-husband proposed to me many years ago, it was with the storied tail signs of “Marry me.” The ceremony was our traditional fusion of the families, where relatives and friends symbolically swapped sides between bride and groom.
I commit to this union, two souls merging as one. The goals of the other are my goals, and their desires are my desires. I will stoke the fires of love in rain and sunshine; I will rebuild it from ashes or cinders. For the remainder of our lives, we will move forward together, the Venlil vows read.
I hadn’t fulfilled the letter of my first promise, after the devastation of our daughter’s death made it impossible to spark anything from the ashes. With Noah, I believed I had a chance to start again—to live up to those vows. It would be not just the merging of souls, but the merging of two cultures; I intended to integrate Terran customs with Venlil rites. The words should amount to supporting my human through both hardships and good times. Together, after all we’d been through since first contact, I knew we could make it through anything.
“I’ll tell you all about our traditional weddings…we can swap stories, so that we’re clear what marriage means between us,” Noah growled. “For now, we need to get back to the meeting. I just couldn’t wait a second longer to ask you.”
I nuzzled up to his side, as we ambled back to the auditorium. “Unless your weddings are solitary affairs, we definitely need to think of a guestlist. Family, friends, and people we’ve worked closely with?”
“Yeah, I’d like to limit it to those close to us. Just don’t ask Glim. I wish him well, and I’ve directed him to get help, but he made it personal by selling us out. I know he thinks we betrayed him first by letting Isif speak, and he’s…a very traumatized man, but he spat on our love. I don’t want to work with him, and I certainly don’t want him at our wedding.”
“I agree; what he did burned bridges between us. I imagine that means, just for appearances, we should make sure Sara Rosario doesn’t bring Haysi. Sara belongs at our wedding, and I’m happy that she and Haysi have stayed close…but besides not sticking it to Glim, we don’t want anyone there who might diss predator traditions.”
“That means we’re definitely not inviting Coji, regardless of how much she’s changed.”
“Why not? I think it’d be hilarious for her to cut you off at each word of our vows.”
“Hilarious is one word to describe it. I can think of another, but it’s not very diplomatic. Anyway, it looks like Zhao’s about ready to resume his speech, so we can hammer out every detail on the ride back to Skalga. I’m right here, if you need any support over the Farsul or the war—just reach out, and don’t over exert yourself! Please.”
“I’ll control my stress levels, for the baby.”
“And yourself.”
“And myself. Don’t worry, Noah, I’m fine.”
The astronaut steadied my chair as I sat back down, while I tried to focus on the Secretary-General despite my giddiness and excitement. There were serious matters to attend to, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted; however, the prospect of marrying my soulmate had caused my earlier pain, over the Farsul discussions, to evaporate. I was ready to tackle difficult subjects with a clear mind, and to iron out the final details of peacetime. Whatever put an end to the war and the death, with humanity ushering in a harmonious era, I could live with it.
What’s left for Zhao to discuss, aside from the two-hundred Federation powers? The Dominion? I wonder how Isif’s rebellion has held up…and whether humanity finds it appropriate, for the Arxur to be punished at all for their unthinkable cattle farms.
The Secretary-General’s eyes swept across the room, ensuring every diplomat had time to filter back in. “Alright then. Before I fully move past the Farsul issue, I want to raise two topics I intended to broach in our internal meetings—to emphasize that we hate our friends’ suffering, and that we intend to address every issue discovered from the Archives. You know about the gene reversals, but we haven’t gone over our ‘Project Chronicle.’ In short, we’re recruiting historians to sort the data from each species’ chamber.”
“Only human historians?” Laulo, the Yotul ambassador, called out with suspicion. “I trust your people, but I don’t want more aliens handling our history. Respectfully.”
“Of course, and at our internal meeting, we’ll be discussing what each individual race sees as important and wants in their curricula. We’ll be requesting professionals from your planets to work with us, and ensure that everything is fair and aboveboard. What we’ve started on is…incentivizing some archivist prisoners to help us, and large-scale sorting. I intend to involve each of you in your own stories. Humanity’s commitment is to undoing not just the gene mods, but every lie they’ve ever told you. Please understand that.”
I flicked my ears, recognizing that Zhao was addressing me. “I do, and I’m grateful for your efforts to expose the conspiracy for all of their crimes against sapience. Truly. They won’t control us.”
“They won’t be out abducting potential uplifts either. I recognize that some member states have welcomed back citizens from the past—who could be helpful with Project Chronicle. I recommend using them as windows to a lost era, but also setting out provisions to address their…unique circumstances. We recognize both the benefits and the dangers of advanced cryotechnology, and intend to discuss laws on cryopod usage next week. We take what they’ve done quite seriously.”
Mazic President Cupo flared his trunk. “Then destroy the technology! Nothing good can come of preserving sapients like frozen fruit, for hundreds of years.”
A few calls of assent came from the gathered diplomats, and I found myself wondering if Cupo was right. The abductees who’d been transported into our time had difficulty adjusting, and lost their lives and their families. There were zero positives to rendering people obsolete on their own worlds. Cryopods would facilitate similar experiments done by anyone who bought into Federation ideology, and tried to reinstitute the cure on live subjects. If even Zhao recognized the potential dangers, why not just outlaw cryopod usage in our territory?
The Terran leader cleared his throat. “There are many valid concerns, but technology is often a double-edged sword—that is to say, it can be used for good or for evil. If someone has a terminal disease, and chooses to be preserved until a cure is found, cryopods may save lives. It could allow astronauts to hibernate through long voyages. Even with warp drives, it would take vast amounts of time and supplies to travel to neighboring galaxies. It takes years just to cross the full breadth of our own. We can have this debate at length at our next meeting, where I’ll lay out scientific research on the positives this tech might achieve.”
“Very well. We will listen to your arguments then,” Cupo acknowledged.
“That’s all I ask. Now, let us move on from the issues surrounding Talsk, and address what we should do with the rest of the Federation. As you know, the UN launched a cyberattack on all Kolshian-aligned principalities. Let me preface this by saying that this was the move that won the war; if those two hundred parties had come to Aafa, we would’ve been slaughtered. However, the cyberattacks had the regrettable consequence of civilian loss of life, due to socioeconomic collapses.”
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The Dossur diplomat, Alar, twitched his whiskers. “These species picked their sides, and they supported the Kolshians after everything. The Federation didn’t regret picking off Dossur civilians—some of whom were only just recovered from the shadow caste’s basement, in terrible condition.”
“The treatment of the captives from Mileau was criminal, and worsened by the fact that it was simply for standing with humanity. However, I reiterate our desire to limit loss of life, and not to radicalize civilians; we seek healing. We want these two-hundred-plus parties to surrender, so that we’re not forced into this war any longer. That means that we’re willing to send humanitarian aid and put the lights back on, for anyone who capitulates. It’s also important to note that not all Federation members are in the same category.”
“Forgive the interruption,” Coji began, with unusual tact, “but how so? I just heard Ambassador Alar point out that they supported the Kolshians after everything—including the attacks on Mileau and Kalqua.”
“The Duerten Shield originally hesitated to side with humanity, due to fears of opposing the Kolshians. Kalqua shows that there was true peril in challenging the shadow caste. Many parties were afraid of retribution, if they broke away from the Federation. There were quite a few who voted for neutrality, after Noah’s speech, but didn’t want to hop sides. You were in that same position once, Coji.”
“I…concede that point. I believe I once told a Venlil counterpart that it was hard to stick our necks out. It was why talks with humanity hadn’t achieved results before us.”
“Precisely. For parties that weren’t involved as aggressors, I believe we can come to terms. Their existence as neutral powers doesn’t threaten us. Honestly, if they so desire, I don’t feel this changes anything about our diplomatic efforts before. We still wish to sway potential friends. This might open the door to new members of the Sapient Coalition, should they seek that avenue in good faith.”
“Um, what about the ones who…don’t act in good faith? Who acted against the SC?” Tilfish Governor Birla hesitated, recalling how her species had once been a hostile power. “I recognize the value of parole and second chances, after Sillis has received one. However, not everyone can…be trusted, or should escape punishment.”
The Harchen ambassador raised an appendage in support. “I don’t speak in defense of Fahl’s actions any more than Birla stands by what the Tilfish did. I agree that we should separate those who helped from those who were captive bystanders. Yet the truth is, there are true fanatics in the Federation. Many of these people have had ample opportunity to break from the ideology, but couldn’t even see anything wrong with…omnivores’ treatment.”
“Humanity is aware of the aggressors, such as the Malti; a species who’d practice orbital exterminations on sapients, at the Kolshians’ behest, and see it as a normal military duty. We’re informed about the most concerning subset, the ‘fanatics’ as you say. The difficult aspect of these is religion, something the Federation tailored to control worlds—something seen in many cultures, such as the Gojids’ Great Protector, the Krakotl’s Inatala, or the Iftali’s Consecrated Order.”
“Why don’t they see from the Archives that their religion is a lie?” an Iftali diplomat piped up. “Even before we had hard proof, Cilany caught Nikonus bragging about co-opting omnivore religions.”
“Hm…for the ones who weren’t omnivores, such as the two most…egregious examples, they believed their faith was natural. Even with proof, some wouldn’t accept their beliefs as false. The reality is that cultists such as the Yulpa, who have actively sought human sacrifices, or the Drezjin, who worship the Federation as divine avatars, will fight to the last. We’d like for absolute peace, yet these races must be treated as hostiles.”
“Are you going to wipe them out?” the Takkan representative asked.
“We don’t seek extinction, but the only solution we see is to rebuild their society, from the ground up. We don’t wish to allocate troops for an occupation, or to directly engage more than needed. We’ll ramp up cyberattacks, forcing them back to the technological drawing board; we’ll target their leadership, religious and political. Then, we drop pamphlets and combat misinformation, in the hopes of an eventual surrender. It may take years, and after we’ve had time to recover, we may need to kickstart change by force.”
Zurulian Prime Minister Braylen raised a paw. “So the war’s not ending?”
“Not altogether, but the threat to our safety is finished. There will still be cleanup for years to come; even on our own turf, we’ll be rebuilding Kalqua, Earth, Nishtal, the cradle, and many more through titanic efforts. I regret that this is the only way to bring peace to the SC. This is seeking the path of least violence, yet it’s still an ugly one that forces the compromising of our morals. We’ve done the best we could to adhere to our ethics, while staving off enemies who don’t afford us any rights. I take no joy in the suboptimal choices we’ve been left with on several occasions.”
There were no ensuing challenges from the assembled diplomats, while Zhao shuffled his notes. It was obvious that the final enemy, the one who’d yet to be addressed, was the Arxur Dominion: the carnivores who had terrorized us for centuries. Isif had offered a non-aggression pact during his speech at the Summit, but some diplomats had been quite vocal about his species not deserving a continued existence. Either that conversation and the Nikonus-Giznel video had a lingering effect on the Coalition, or humanity would have to dig their heels in if they wished to spare their troublesome ally.
I’m willing to fight with Governor Veln, despite his undoubted concerns about how the public will react to him “tolerating” the grays. As long as Isif keeps to himself, and that his kind is punished at the first instance of…reverting to old ways, I’ll vote to allow it.
“I’ll gloss over the unaffiliated Sivkit Grand Herd, who never reestablished diplomatic connections with us or the Federation. If they want to be isolationist, after learning the truth, we should respect that and leave them alone,” Zhao explained. “So that leads me to the ‘elephant in the room’, which is the Arxur. The Dominion surrendered after their humiliation, and there’s a new government now. As I recall, after Isif’s speech, certain diplomats believe that we’re partial to predators, and you have staunch stances on not treating an Arxur as a person. Many of you have trauma…some of you have even lost your homeworlds to their raids. Let me say, I don’t expect you to forgive or forget.”
The Thafki diplomat’s silver-gray ears twitched with anger. “We had no world to ourselves, until you helped us carve something out. There were 12,000 of us in the wild, until you freed millions of our cattle…millions of damaged, battered, broken people, just like those who have strained other worlds’ resources with their predator-diseased states. The Arxur shouldn’t be left alone, to do whatever they like without supervision! If you’re not going to kill them, take away their damn ships.”
“Their bombers ravaged Nishtal; something humanity played a role in. You know what the Arxur do with their ships,” Nuela squawked.
Gojid Minister Kiri flicked her claws. “Isif presided over the raid that left the cradle in ashes, and my species as a mix of sparse colonists and refugees.”
“I understand how they feel,” I whispered to Noah. “Isif was responsible for that raid, targeted at Venlil schools. My little girl would be alive if not for him. I was willing to work with him, but with the war over, he shouldn’t keep his bombers. Those aren’t used for good.”
The astronaut grimaced. “I can’t imagine the grief, and I don’t know how you put it aside to cooperate with Isif at all. Nobody would’ve blamed you for wanting outright revenge. I won’t tell you to change how you feel. I wish we lived in a galaxy where everyone could disassemble their bombers, us included. War is hell.”
The argument raged on, with the Thafki ambassador Telikinn’s voice growing more heated. “They view the Thafki as a delicacy! I don’t care if the Kolshians let it happen; the Arxur still did it. They should be locked in a ‘Kessler’ cage at a minimum. They can’t be trusted, and I certainly don’t foresee opening relations with a race that remembers eating us.”
Laulo strained on his hindlegs. “The Arxur were quite helpful at Mileau and Kalqua. Our commanders were able to establish a cordial, working relationship with Isif, who helped save prey lives by the billions. I have no reason to believe he’d want to raid or eat anyone. He risked his own head to bring about the opposite, and expressed remorse to us.”
“This is about a better future!” I shouted, deciding that the Yotul couldn’t argue for Isif alone. “Isif always wanted that. He said something quite powerful to me long ago, that, ‘One can be both a victim and an oppressor.’ That is what that Arxur is. To everyone’s surprise, we now know that the grays are capable of empathy, so I stress giving them a chance to change, just like the galaxy’s other monsters.”
“Their entire culture is based in cruelty,” Cupo challenged. “If that’s not evil at every level, what is?”
Secretary-General Zhao tapped the microphone. “That is enough! Nobody is expected to even think about forgiving the Arxur for generations, but we also know they were warped into monsters. The United Nations has every intention of monitoring them, and forcing them to live by civilized standards. Without purposeful starvation, there’s no reason for raids. Isif was crucial in liberating cattle, overthrowing the Dominion, and gathering allies against Aafa. Despite his past, we can’t argue that we owe him our victory.”
“If there’s no reason for them to raid, why can’t you take away their bombers? Keep them out of our space!” Telikinn yelled.
“We have negotiated terms to keep the Arxur out of our space—in a twenty-lightyear bubble, leaving the SC be. The Dominion’s cruelty-based legacy means that Isif will be seen as weak, without maintaining a military. His government, the one that wants change, would collapse, so it’s a necessity to allow him to keep his fleet. It’s all for show; the UN will police him. Should the bombers vacate their territory, we have multiple cyberweapons ready to destroy the fleet. If Isif can’t be trusted, he won’t get past the SC’s welcome mat. Will that satisfy you?”
“Not really. However, nonaggression is an upgrade over our…former circumstances. We’ll trust humanity to handle it, for now, but we’ll be watching them closely ourselves.”
“The United Nations welcomes assistance monitoring all powers confined to their territory, not just the Arxur; we don’t trust them ourselves.” Zhao was hasty to pivot away, not allowing any further debate over his chosen resolution to Isif. He’d baited Telikinn into agreeing so smoothly, that other SC members might not realize it. “That settles everything. We’re quite grateful for the cooperation of our allies, to finalize the war’s resolution, with the Treaty of Sol. I look forward to discussions of our internal affairs next week, and I wish you all safe travels. Farewell.”
As the human leader dismounted the stage, I relished in the knowledge that the centuries-long war was over. The predators had laid out a step-by-step process to steer the galaxy in the right direction, and to handle all parties that fell outside SC bounds. Noah’s loving gaze studied me from the periphery, a warm blanket of security that drew my focus back to the band around my foretoe. His fingers traced over the ring’s cool metal, which my brain had somehow normalized wearing. With today's ambassadorial duties complete, I didn’t have to worry about protecting Venlil-human interests anymore.
My attention could center around our personal life together, with a wedding to plan and two children on the way. Now that I was starting a new family with such a remarkable person, I felt an eagerness for the future that was unmatched by anything I’d experienced before.