Memory transcription subject: Ambassador Tarva Williams of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: October 9, 2137
Under an immense amount of pain, it was difficult to remember why I wanted to have a child in the first place.
I clung to Noah’s hand as the contractions radiated pain through my body, finding it difficult to think. I forced myself to ruminate about how beautiful our family would be, and how much I loved my caring husband. Then again, no matter how supportive he wanted to be, he wasn’t the one in excruciating agony; this required little effort on his part, didn’t it? That wasn’t a rational thought, but it was near impossible to be rational. Of course I wanted the astronaut here, to welcome his child. Just a little while ago, I’d been elated to see his reaction.
The doctors prompted me to push harder, and I strained against my own pain tolerance; if I’d welcomed two predators to Skalga in the flesh, before I knew they wouldn’t eat me, and wagered my entire civilization on a possibility, what was a little labor pain? I was a strong, fierce woman, and I’d be damned if I waited a moment longer to hold my child. Noah had barely left my side since the pregnancy began, but now, it was like his hand was glued in mine. My human watched with nervous eyes, terrified of anything going wrong. He pressed the other palm against my back, though it wasn’t comforting enough to make up for the fact that my insides wanted to be on my outside.
“We’re almost there. You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Noah whispered, inches from my ear. “You’re going to make the perfect mother. I believe in you, and I’m here for you and our child.”
There was a brief flicker of happiness, knowing that, despite his insecurities, my Noah would make a wonderful father. I remembered seeing his binocular eyes staring straight at me, as we exchanged vows—the astronaut liked the Venlil ones enough to choose them. Our wedding had been a quiet ceremony, closed to the public despite the fact that our relationship had controversially (on both worlds) been announced. We’d started out from Skalga on a sprawling spaceship we rented, with friends and family we invited. The ceremony had taken place halfway on the journey to Earth, before we landed in my husband’s hometown for the reception.
To imagine how it once would’ve terrified all of my maternal instincts, a predator being right next to my newborn child. Noah implicitly had my trust; my brain didn’t register him as a threat anymore, not even in the subconscious bits. My abdomen screamed in unfathomable pain, warring for my attention, but I fought onward for our beautiful daughter. We’d discussed names, Venlil and human, and settled on tribute to a friend of ours who spent his last breaths seeking peace. Elia, her name would be, harkening back to the dear Elias Meier. It felt right for the people we’d lost to be a part of this new life…for their memories to be carried on.
Elia is going to be beautiful, and I hope she takes after Meier’s diplomatic spirit. I wish he’d gotten to see this victory, and to know that humanity would survive as a prosperous power.
Another wave of agony came with the newest spasm, as the process seemed never-ending. Stars, I loved my first daughter, but how had I forgotten how miserable this was? I had no more energy left, and even with desperate attempts to redirect my thoughts to Noah and his species, my motivation was waning. Why wasn’t there a pause button on this ordeal? I tried to cling to something positive, though my brain begged for a reprieve. There were two cribs waiting in the nursery, where the planets of Skalga’s system were painted on the ceiling. My human and I had a home together; it wasn’t quite the opulent governor’s mansion, but it was ours. What else…what else? Maternity leave from my ambassadorship would give me time to spend with my children.
That was it. Children, plural. Despite all my research on how to rear a human infant, I was woefully unprepared for raising a predator. How strange it was that such a powerful, fearsome species would be so fragile, and dependent on me. After a lengthy discussion, we’d decided to adopt a Terran boy that was six months old, since Venlil children matured quicker than the primates. Two newborns would’ve been a massive undertaking, with the sleepless nights and round-the-clock care. While it wouldn’t quite bridge the age gap, we wanted to bring the hominid home early enough that he’d bond with us from his earliest memories. Noah and I wanted to hear his first words, and when he took his first steps.
The two of us were slated to visit the UN embassy, where the paperwork had been prearranged; our little boy would be waiting for us in the Peacekeepers’ care. Elia’s big brother was sitting there in limbo, and we couldn’t meet him until I finished up here. I didn’t want to wait a second longer before making it official that he was my son. I didn’t want to wait any longer to have a Venlil daughter again either; Elia’s life was set to start today! A strength bubbled within me that I didn’t even know I had, as I warred against my body to bring a pup into the world. The pain reached its crescendo, blinding me for several moments. The doctors latched onto a small, silver object, while I fell back to the pillow with exhaustion.
“My gosh! That’s Elia; I saw her little head! Are you feeling alright, Tarva?” Noah asked.
I perked my ears, as the sound of braying, feeble cries reached me. “Elia’s healthy, it sounds like. I don’t know how I made it, but you have no idea how much that hurt.”
“I hated seeing you in pain, my love. I wish there was something I could do to help, but I’m here every step of the way. You can rest now.”
“No, I can’t; Elia needs me. Let me see her. She needs someone to comfort her.”
The doctors passed me the wet bundle of fur, which was wriggling within the blanket. In an instant, the pain and exhaustion was forgotten. It was all worth it—worth enduring a thousand times over—in a second. A dangerous protectiveness roared within me, as my precious daughter was passed into my arms. I held Elia close, trying to soothe her cries; her fragile body was so impossibly loud for something so small. Those little eyes peered up to me, not yet knowing me as her mother. Her snout was a bright pink, with two tiny slits that represented nostrils. Her legs were fragile, yet the important thing was that they were not crooked.
She would be a force of nature, with all of the senses and abilities that Venlil were meant to have. While the deformed people of my generation had been known as the weakest species in the galaxy, Elia would not share that repute. Without gene mod gentling and prey instincts, she’d have the fighting spirit my ancestors resisted the Federation with. It was true that we were the most emotional species, but that wasn’t weakness. My husband belonged to the race I believed was number two in the rankings for the strength of their feelings, and they’d toppled a millenia-old empire with their tireless spirit. The Farsul archivists had feared us in our anger more than humanity.
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Once enough Venlil accept the gene reversal—more than the millions who already have—there’s no reason we can’t go back to being a species that will never be broken or surrender. Children like Elia can accomplish anything; her future is bright, and not subject to any artificial biological limits.
I couldn’t wait to see how she inherited the best traits of both of our worlds; our main residence was on Skalga, so that we could play a direct role in restoring the Venlil to our true selves. If the political situation for humans became more dire than Veln’s pandering, I wasn’t opposed to switching to Earth. I’d upend any part of my life, or place myself in harm’s way any number of times, if it meant keeping my children safe. Noah smiled behind his holopad, snapping a photograph of me holding the baby. He reached out with his sturdy arms, as if prompting me to pass what was now the center of my entire world.
I loved my husband dearly, but that affection was a mere seed in the ground compared to the ocean of adoration I felt for Elia. All I could see in my head was the tragedy that occurred the last time I let a daughter venture out of my sight; what if something terrible happened, because I wasn’t around to protect her? I thought I trusted Noah to keep her safe, but the reality of letting her go left me torn up inside. I wanted to keep her in my grasp forever, never to let go. The predator tilted his head, eyebrows arching up.
“Let me see the kiddo, Tarva. I know I’ve never held a baby, but I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry, I won’t drop her. She’s just the cutest thing; oh, my heart is melting!” Noah said. “I’m a father, and it’s like nothing else in the whole wide world matters.”
Tears swelled in my eyes, as I forced my heavy arms to pass the baby toward Noah. As the human’s finger pressed through her fluffy, soft-as-a-cloud fur, I couldn’t release my grip. What if there was something I hadn’t accounted for, such as Terran mate’s responding to a newborn in a way that would endanger a Venlil? It was irrational paranoia, but it wouldn’t leave my mind. I took a deep breath, noticing the growing concern in his binocular gaze.
This was the man who was my soulmate, who treasured me and who’d fallen over himself to accommodate my sudden dream of having Elia. I wanted to share it with him, no matter how difficult it was to expose her to any risks—regardless of how small they were. I steeled myself, and forced my paws to do something much more challenging than labor. I relinquished my grip on my daughter, and Noah took her out of my control. The Terran started grinning like an idiot, overjoyed to have her nestled against his elbow; she wasn’t even the length of his forearm. The crying stopped the second the predator held her, and tickled her tiny nose with his fingertip.
“Oh my, Tarva. I want us to be everything Elia needs. How do we do that?” Noah whispered.
“Together.” My body finally relaxed, seeing my daughter safe in my beloved’s arms. She looked like she belonged there, tucked against his chest. “You’re a natural father. I’m sorry about earlier…it was just hard to let go.”
“It’ll get easier: one day at a time. I was worried you were scared of me, for a moment.”
“Can you blame me? Everyone knows humans eat Venlil pups for breakfast.”
“Right next to the bacon and the orange juice. You make a good point.”
“I always do. It’s one of my many endearing qualities.”
“You can say that again. You know, since sweet little Elia is related to you…I think she’s gonna kick her brother’s ass. We have to watch out for her. I’ve heard true Skalgans are terrors.”
“I’m hoping she’ll take after her more mellow namesake. And on the topic of names…if we’re going to bring home our other child today, we still need a name. We haven’t settled on one; I don’t know who else to pay homage to. I thought about Sara, or some variant of her last name…but Rosa is more feminine in your tongue.”
“We were both the first pioneers to set sail from Earth on an FTL flight. She’s a great scientific mind who’s done a great service to both truth and human discovery, from Skalga’s survey, to the empathy tests, to Leirn. I like the idea of taking a bite-sized snippet from Rosario. How about Ari? It’s a bit more subtle.”
“Ari. That does have a nice ring to it. We’ll have to tell Sara who inspired it someday.”
“Hopefully, she’ll come visit us from time to time so that we can. We’re not that forgettable!”
When Sara attended our wedding, it wasn’t evident how often she intended to return to Skalga going forward; she’d piled tons of work onto her plate with the Yotul. I hoped she’d be involved as an honorary aunt, but I imagined her ambitions to repair the galaxy wouldn’t leave her much time. It was fitting to give a nod to her, as one of my original Terran friends. Elia and Ari would be reminders of two figures who were instrumental in making our family possible, free of Federation control or Arxur threats. It wouldn’t be easy to raise a human and a Venlil side-by-side, but I was confident we could handle the challenges. I could imagine the children tussling in the grass, playing together and running around on strong legs.
I’m not sure Elia can keep up with a persistence predator, but she won’t tucker out easily. Maybe Noah will be proven right about her being a handful.
With both of us regarded as important historical figures, our children would have a lot to learn. We’d be under the spotlight, especially since I hadn’t stepped down as Venlil ambassador, despite my interspecies marriage. Noah and I would teach our offspring not to be ashamed of our family, or their own differences. We’d teach them to do what was right, regardless of the risks. A new era was dawning on Skalga, and this second chance at motherhood played right into the big picture. The Sapient Coalition could give us a forum to develop our own might, with the next generation bringing us back to our roots.
The Venlil spirit might’ve been suppressed for centuries, but it wasn’t snuffed out. The more I thought about it, the more confident I was that Elia wouldn’t need my protection; it would be all of us needing protection from her, should she embrace her wild side. It was probably a good thing her brother and father would be from a predator race. Which customs and mannerisms would jump the gap, in our multiplanetary household? How would the Terrans’ kind-hearted nature manifest in my son? It was a relief that humanity wasn’t under threat of extinction anymore; I wouldn’t have to worry about Ari belonging to an endangered species.
“All of this started when I met you,” I told Noah. “To think I almost let the Federation take away the one person who understands me implicitly. Who will make our family—who made my heart—whole.”
The human handed Elia back to me, the loopy smile still on his face. “I helped, Tarva, but you did all of that yourself. I just proved whatever was written about us in that dossier wrong.”
“You sure did. You want to know what I was thinking, when I saw your ship coming?”
“‘Wow, that ship is smoking hot! The pilot must be a stud?’”
“No, you big goof. I thought there were two known instances of a predatory species achieving sapience. I listed it all out in my head.”
“And now, you know it was all the omnivores too?”
“Actually, I know now that I was right about there being two. I was just wrong about who. The Kolshians and the Farsul were the two, bringing about cruelties and atrocities to maintain control. The ones who would’ve kept us apart. I can’t wait for whatever our family’s future holds.”
“Me too. All I wanted was friendship and peace in the stars, but you gave me so much more. Looking at Elia…I didn’t know it was possible to feel such deep emotions. I’ll be by your side forever, Tarva.”
Staring into Noah’s loving eyes, I was certain that this was humanity’s true nature. They were a species that would be loyal to the ends of the universe, and would endure anything to protect the people they cared about. Their mere introduction had brought out the best in dozens of races, and altered the course of galactic history. For all my internal fears, I knew Elia and Ari would be lucky to have a predator, the love of my life, watching over them. I couldn’t imagine having a life and a family that was any more perfect than this one.