Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: March 20, 2160
People that lived back on Earth used to travel in commercial airliners, flying across the skies as if it were a regular occurrence. Hundreds of passengers, flying to and fro across the globe; entire complexes that made up airports, welcoming visitors to cities of millions. For me, I thought the only way that I’d ever lift off again was if we left Tellus, or if I joined the ragtag militia. It was strange to feel the thunderous engines uprooting us from the ground—nerve-wracking, even. I gripped my harness with apprehension, while Cherise kept a keen eye on Gress. Juvre had been strapped to the Krev’s chest, to prevent the obor from sliding around during takeoff.
As we cleared the atmosphere, I took a look at the sandy landmass of the planet below; it was a barren image, compared to the luscious span of Earth. To think that sphere was so gigantic, yet we’d only settled a tiny patch of its dirt. I couldn’t imagine humanity ever growing enough to conquer a circumference like that again. Given that it had taken twelve thousand years to reach our old population numbers, our recovery wasn’t something that would happen in any of our lifetimes. I laughed bitterly to myself, thinking about the young, able-bodied victims from the mining incident. There was always something ensuring we couldn’t grow our numbers in peace.
“What’s so funny?” Gress asked, as he waited for the warp drive to complete its startup sequence.
I pursed my lips. “Everything we have is nothing, nothing in the grand scheme of things. I got this job by being good at kissing folks’ asses. It felt good when I let myself go. This trip on Avor, it’s going to be the last fucking time I suck up to anyone. I’m done pretending. Done talking. I want to take some tangible action, Gress.”
“Well, we could always use more bodies in the military, in case our favorite group of aliens comes knocking. If it weren’t for my daughter, I might’ve joined up myself. I’ve never been much of a fighter, but there’s other things I could do. Maybe it’s worth it to be put on the reserve; I don’t want to be idle, should anyone threaten Lecca’s safety. Your story shows how dangerous the Federation is.”
“True that: those no-good assclowns were more of a threat to us than we ever were to them. Played judge, jury, and executioner.”
Cherise tilted her head, brow furrowed in thought. “Say, how the fuck did you think we were with the Federation, when we didn’t torch the wildlife?”
“You hid yourselves underground. How did we know you weren’t cleansing the caverns down there?” Gress protested, as the ship slipped into subspace. The Krev then unclipped Juvre, who clapped his grubby mitts together with delight. “Humans made a point of obscuring every detail of your lives. For all we knew, you were amassing weapons on our doorstep. The Reskets wanted to barge in and find out what you were up to by force, or capture one of you.”
“Why didn’t you? Taylor and I would’ve been easy targets, when we went up to meet you.”
“Again, we didn’t want open hostilities with the Federation. The Krev hoped that you would move on.”
“And why did they believe you could bring that about?” I asked. “You said they chose you for the position, because they trusted you to put an end to the saga. It wasn’t your first time driving people from their homes?”
“Taylor, I was…a hostage negotiator with the police force in Avor’s capital. I was involved in an infamous situation with some high-profile individuals and angry, relocated Jaslips. I’d prefer not to talk about it any further.”
“Fine. We’re just trying to get to know you—”
“Any other subject. Please. This one awful incident took my marriage, my sanity, and it’s the reason I see my kid once every other weekend. It’s a sore spot.”
Cherise unclipped her harness, popping her joints. “I’m sorry, Gress. Of course, we’ll respect your desire to avoid the subject. Maybe we should talk about the other Krev Consortium species?”
“Yeah, those Reskets sound interesting. I’m fixing to hear what they’re about,” I offered. “We don’t even know what they look like, or any pitfalls we could encounter when we see them on Avor.”
Gress moved Juvre to his shoulder, tickling the obor’s chin. “Sure thing. I can hear my precious darling’s tummy rumbling. Are either of you hungry? We can go to the dining area, and get some food.”
“That depends if you’re gonna serve up dried insects. I’d rather eat rubber.”
“I have other things. There’s these Krev fruits called noskberries; they look like little tubes, very sweet. Juvre loves them. He can fit them over his pinky finger, and suck on them—it’s like a candy to him.”
“Shit, you had me sold at candy,” Cherise chuckled. “It’s been way too long. I still remember Halloween—trick-or-treating for candy, door to door, until our baskets were full to the brim. Given out by total strangers. A day of such wholesome innocence.”
I smirked to myself. “You left out the part where we’d dress up in spooky costumes. I remember dressing up as a dinosaur.”
“I’m certainly glad that sweet berries are up your alley, and bringing up fond memories,” Gress interjected. “I’m sure Krev would be…very happy to pass out sugary things to human kids, if they wanted to go door to door on Avor—any time of the year. Please, come with me! I’ll go over the other four Consortium species during prep time.”
Cherise and I tailed after the green-scaled mammal, who seemed delighted to be feeding us: a far cry to how the Federation would’ve felt, at the mere thought we’d ever have to eat. I’d wager Gress would happily spoon-feed us if we asked, given how apparent his enjoyment of pampering Juvre was. It was strange to be doted on with such intensity, though I imagined it was how the Venlil felt about our affection toward fluffy things. My mind was still a bit stuck on what the Krev had commented about his old profession, as a hostage negotiator. If this was a famous incident, I might be able to pry the details out of others on Avor, without forcing him to relive it. However, given that he was something of a friend, I was uncertain if that was a breach of privacy.
The fact that the Krev would think to send a hostage negotiator to collect the supplies from us is telling. It’s like they saw their very…space as a hostage, which needed to be pried free. It also tips off that their species is capable of “unpreylike”, premeditated violence.
“So, where to start? The fundamental premise of the Consortium is that each species contributes something to our preparations, for the day when the Federation comes around,” Gress remarked, as he began rummaging through the cabinets. “We’ve turned the homeworlds into…hopefully impenetrable fortresses, growing an army as quickly as possible to meet a massive force. Signal-dampening cages. We don’t have such measures in surrounding systems, to minimize the risk of detection. If you join the Consortium, we’ll want to upgrade Tellus’ security.”
Cherise raised her eyebrows. “We’ll take all the help we can get warding off the Federation. Or more preferably, boatloads of assistance hiding ourselves.”
“Of course. We know if they see that we’re hiding you, humans—a species they believe they wiped out—it’d make the Consortium their number one enemy. It’s in our best interest that you stay off the radar…especially if they find out about your escape, and come looking. It’s our mission to protect innocent races like you, so fret not: we won’t forsake you in your time of need. Like I’ve said before, any human refugees that want to join us, or start an enclave on Avor, you’ll have sanctuary.”
“I appreciate that Gress, but as you well know, we’re concerned with maintaining our culture. Rebuilding our numbers,” I said. “Splitting up the colony, with how close we are to the minimum viable population…it’s not a good idea.”
“We might be able to help with that. I know it’s not a decision you can make alone, but we have ectogenesis chambers…artificial wombs. Perhaps, if you’re comfortable with it, Krev could raise some human children, and teach them your culture. It would shorten the duration needed to expand your numbers.”
“I hope you’re not planning to raise them like obors.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Of course not. You’re sapient. I understand your concerns, given our tendency to infantilize you, but we’d love and nurture you. We can send them to Tellus, once they’re grown up enough. I know for certain that once we get the defenses built up, and mask the signals, we’ll help build you a proper city aboveground. Any amenity you want or need: just ask.”
Cherise tilted her head in thought. “We could use better medical facilities. Perhaps a gym too: the training center below the sands, it’s a bit sparse.”
“I’d like some sort of concert hall, or auditorium. Bringing back live music, proper arts and entertainment: I know people might not think it’s a priority, but I hope it’ll help us feel human again,” I commented. “We’ve lost our soul.”
Gress dropped the last berries into bowls, setting them down at the table. “Food a-plenty. Eat up! I’ll make a note of the things you both said, though you can submit a full list to the Consortium. Our automated construction should make it easy to build up your city…eventually, multiple cities.”
“That sounds wonderful. We’re both touched by the prospect.”
The four of us found seats at a small table, each with a hearty portion at our disposal. The Krev watched with eager eyes, as I grabbed a noskberry between my fingers. This would be my first time sampling alien food: while we’d preserved as much plant life as we could from Earth, there couldn’t be any harm in adding some of Avor’s finest offerings. I rolled the fruit around my tongue, musing how it had the texture of a tiny pasta tube. It tasted like a peculiar mix of plums and bananas, smooth and thirst-quenching. Cherise grinned in appreciation, as she tried the delicacy. Juvre stared right at her, but seemed to take no offense to her upcurved lips.
I scoffed in indignation. “The lousy obor’s okay with her smiling? Why didn’t he lunge at Cherise’s skull? He has it out for me, I’m telling you!”
“Cry more. Gress doesn’t whine half as much, after getting clubbed on his noggin by you,” the security guard countered.
“Ah, that was unfortunate. How is your head holding up, Gress?”
“It’s fine. My scales are quite tough.” The Krev’s tongue darted out, impossibly long, whisking up berries; I gave him a surprised stare. “Let’s get started on the Consortium species…before I find myself drafting up a hundred-part plan to save your species. You wanted to talk about the Reskets, Taylor?”
“Any place to start is good with me.”
“Alright then. As I stated, each Consortium species takes on a specialty, for the group’s protection: to prove their strategic value. The Reskets are the footsoldiers, as our most intimidating race.” The hologram Gress displayed on his portable projector was of a pink-skinned, magenta-feathered bird with a lanky neck; it had long, dry legs as well. This was the most fearsome race in the Consortium? “The Reskets are the final defense, if there ever was an EMP or cyberweapon that neutralized our automated forces. They also specialize in domestic security, putting down any revolt. They train other soldiers to join our ranks, since they’re too big for close-quarters combat—at least on non-Krev ships, which aren’t built to fit their size.”
Cherise squinted. “Hang on. How big are they, exactly?”
“Six teccs tall.” [Nine feet], the translator decided. “Don’t let their size fool you into thinking they’re slow or clumsy. They can run up to [thirty-five miles per hour] and cover twice your height in a single stride. If you piss a Resket off, you’re best off not running; pray to whatever deities humans follow that they’ll show you mercy.”
I recoiled in surprise. “I take it they’re not the species to play ding-dong ditch with.”
“To play what?”
“It’s where you ring someone’s doorbell, and then run off to hide, so that they don’t see anyone there.”
“Er, why?”
“Uh, I don’t know. It’s funny to make them look, I guess?”
Gress pondered it for several seconds. “Obor enterprise. It’s a phrase we have, which speaks to a primate’s penchant for silliness and mischief. I suspect this falls under that rainshield?”
“Yeah. We are little shits sometimes. Funny enough, we have a similar saying: ‘monkey business’, also meaning goofy hijinks.”
“I see a primate’s tendency to get into trouble transcends worlds.”
“Imagine the trouble sapient ones can cause. Case study: Taylor,” Cherise snickered.
I grabbed a berry from my bowl, chucking it at her face in faux outrage. Gress seemed surprised by my accuracy, as the throw connected with the tip of her nose. Witnessing the playful bout, Juvre shrieked, and grabbed a fistful of berries from his bowl. The obor flung them at me—of course he targeted me, not Benson—without hesitation, splattering fruit juices all over me. The nonsapient primate received a withering look from me, after he immediately hid behind the Krev’s back, using his owner as a shield. I leapt from my chair, trying to find a better angle to pelt Juvre; Cherise was no longer my primary target. That monkey was going to get it.
“Please stop! I’m impressed with your precision, but stop! You’re going to make a mess,” Gress pleaded. “I don’t want to be in the line of fire. Juvre’s an animal; he was just mimicking your behavior!”
I pointed at the suddenly-bashful obor. “He went for me. You’re letting him hide behind you, so you’re putting yourself in the way.”
“Taylor has the maturity of an obor, so he’d be happy to get into a shit-flinging fight with an animal,” Cherise snickered. “Sit down, Trench. Make us look slightly respectable.”
“Yes, Mother. Juvre won’t get away with this though. I mean, this red shit’s all over me now! I probably look worse than I did during the fucking mining accident. Go on about the Consortium species, Gress, before I change my mind.”
“Right then. I guess we’re pretending that didn’t happen.” The Krev blinked several times, before pulling up the image of an oversized pink worm with stubby arms. “These are the Smiglis. I’ll move on with them, since there’s not much to explain about their contributions. They’re dead weight. Their homeworld has little strategic value to us, due to its location and their general apathy.”
“Why would they be apathetic about the Federation? I thought the whole point of your organization is to stay away from them,” Cherise murmured.
“It’s simple: they’re the furthest away, so they think they’d be the last ones attacked…and have ample forewarning. Whereas Esquo was one day from Sivkit territory, and Avor is a much more comfortable seven days away: the Smigli planet is thirteen days‘ travel from Federation space. Almost double the distance. Therefore, they lack…motivation. They claim their entertainment provides us a morale boost, but we all know they’re not doing their part.”
I slumped back in my chair, finishing off the berries. “Dead weight is a pretty harsh descriptor.”
“Make your own judgment. Just don’t bet on them to have your back in a fight. Oh, and something you should know? They’re hermaphroditic, so don’t go addressing their representative with gendered terminology. They all have…both parts.”
“Gotcha. That’s good to know; we’ve never encountered a sapient species like that. So we’ve got the Jaslips, the Reskets, and the Smiglis. Who’s the final duo?”
“I’ll save the best for last, and start with the Ulchids.” Gress’ hologram depicted a strange creature, with sleek brownish-gray skin, a tapered snout, and a fin on top of its body. Its flippers appeared to double as hands or forepaws, while its tail acted as a single leg. “The Ulchids are tripedal, as I can see you’ve noticed; their hindleg is powerful enough to stand on by itself, for certain activities. They do much of the legwork…pun intended…on comms and logistics. It’s important to be able to talk interstellar and supply your forces and civilians, during any crisis.”
“Three legs. That’s also a new one,” Cherise commented.
I nodded, steepling my fingers. “I’d like to see how they move about in action, but I suppose we should finish off the list. What did you mean by the last ones being ‘the best?’”
“The Trombil. Their shells are bioluminescent, and perhaps that’s why they’re so comfortable around electronics.” Gress displayed the image of a reptilian biped, with a massive, glowing shell on its back. “They specialize in anything tech, drones, or AI; their new-fangled weapons and automated fleet might give us a chance. The tinkerers. The champion engineers!”
“I see. Stacking up your fleets definitely sounds important, though most of the species seem to have found a niche. Hopefully, I can keep track of who does what. I still haven’t figured out what you do, though?”
“The Krev? First off, we coordinate…we lead, and make decisions for everyone’s safety. Our responsibility is hiding each species from the Federation, and masking the signals. I’d say we’ve done that quite well.”
Cherise leveled a stare at him. “What about the Jaslip refugees? Do they have any role? It might give us an idea about what’s expected of humanity, as refugees ourselves.”
“In fact, the Jaslips do wonderful work on the preparatory side, and the fact they have communities on each world’s poles makes it perfect for them. Their role is building defenses and bunkers, as well as planning evacuation routes…should it ever be necessary. I don’t know what role humans will carve out, but I’m sure you have much to add. You know more about our enemy—with more up-to-date information—that could lend itself to intelligence work and strategic insight, if nothing else.”
I rolled my eyes. “My first strategy suggestion is to broadcast our smiling faces at the Feddies, and then to eat meat aggressively. They’ll all faint, neutralizing the fleet.”
“I recognize that you’re joking, but you and the Jaslips could be used for psychological warfare against them. The Federation’s manned ships lack resilient crews. You’ll find that our species are nothing like that. I hope what little I’ve told you prepares you for Avor.”
“It does. Definitely some tidbits that sparked my curiosity. Thanks for all of the help and the hospitality, Gress.”
“Don’t mention it. You’ll have a lot to take in once we get there, so don’t be shy with any questions. Now I’m going to take Juvre to his crate, before you get any bright-eyed ideas for revenge. I like my ship tidy, and I don’t want him picking up any more naughty habits from you.”
With my mind still aching from trying to retain the precise details of six novel species, I kept my snide remarks about the obor to myself. I couldn’t resist pointing to Juvre, then to the emergency airlock, as the pet stared at me over Gress’ shoulder; it would be a shame if someone spaced that primate, for science. Not that I would actually do that, unless…Cherise shook her head at me, before toting her dishes over to the sink. It seemed that help was forthcoming if I could keep up appearances, so I supposed I should knock off any “obor enterprise” before we got to Avor. There were more important things to concern myself with, such as placating the other species and figuring out what humanity’s place in the Consortium would be.
Maybe one day, with the Krev aiding our restoration efforts, we might be capable of fighting back against those Federation bastards; making them pay for Earth was a much more serious vendetta than my food fight with Juvre. Revenge against my people’s murderers was a thought that brought wicked delight into my heart. Perhaps our role in the Consortium could be planning how to take the fight to those skittish prey’s doorsteps, as soon as we had enough strength to eliminate the threat.