Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist
Date [standardized human time]: March 21, 2160
What a week it had been since the aliens landed in Gray Basin. It was just a few days ago that I had no idea whether Bissems were alone in the universe, and all of the possibilities enraptured my mind. My entire life up to that moment was spent imagining how first contact would play out, and how our species might rise to the occasion. In the time since the Lassian military dragged me off to the transmitted coordinates, my hopes for an innocuous relationship had been dashed.
I’d learned of a centuries-long war between people-eating carnivores and hundreds of anti-predators. My visit to Earth, witnessing an alien culture on the ground, had been disrupted by the Yotul’s vows to block our diplomatic efforts. Now, to cap off the taxing timespan, I’d discovered that the Tseia were bombed by aliens meaning to exterminate us with fire—I bet they would’ve been delighted to know our oil secretions made us quite flammable. It was sickening. All the while, I’d needed to stop Dustin from pissing off Zalk and meeting a painful end. There hadn’t been much time to consider how I felt about the Tseia hiding it all, leaving FAI scientists like me in the dark.
Coming clean to the Bissem public, this much time later, and revealing that the Tseia kept advancements and key information from us? The Lassian generals were beyond pissed, and Zalk coming here as a diplomat is the only reason he’s getting a quiet welcome. This press conference could be a disaster.
“I hope we’re all clear on what’s supposed to be said. Do you really think Bissems can handle the truth?” I whispered toward the two aliens, trying not to catch Zalk’s ear.
“I don’t know. The humans bounced back from aliens attacking them…from hundreds of species calling them awful things.” Haliska turned from where she stood beside me; Nulia’s absence was notable, but given her species’ new association, it was a positive that Naltor had gotten her off-world. “There’ll be strong reactions, of course. We need to ride out the waves; the seas will settle down eventually.”
“Let’s just hope ‘eventually’ means ‘soon.’ I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Her rotund eyes gleamed with concern. “It must’ve been a lot to take in, and you must feel a lot of pressure, disseminating this to the public. You were made a scientific liaison out of nowhere. How are you holding up, Tassi?”
“Honestly, I feel this creeping dread. Like I’m waiting for where the next blow is going to come from, and trying to dampen the feelings in advance. I fear my ability to bounce back has been chipped away, but I know this mission is too important to just let…crumble.”
“I was overwhelmed by a few people eating fish. I wouldn’t judge you if you did break. This is a legitimate…it’s a disaster of a first contact, Doctor. We’re not setting a good example for future contacts, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Your mission is noble, and I get why you rushed into it, trying to save us. Even after hearing his answer to Naltor, I just don’t understand how Dustin can still be so optimistic. He was gushing over Zalk’s customs, right after the Tseia had him tied up and told him about their…Starlight Incident.”
Zalk cackled, revealing that he’d been listening. “That one? Classic martyr…he outright said he was willing to die for ‘peace.’ Continually attempting to sacrifice himself for a higher cause, or for the greater good.”
“Well, I threw that label at him myself when he wanted to visit you, but it’s more than that. Dustin is the type to see the good in others, and to believe he can facilitate positive change,” Naltor countered. “Not dissimilar to you, Tassi, with how you believed the best possibilities at first contact, and tried to talk to our enemies. It’s a mix of naïvety and childlike curiosity. Blind hope.”
My shoulders slumped. “I know you’re the pessimist and the skeptic—”
“And I don’t want you to be one. You can choose to hold onto a dream, no matter how distant or unrealistic it is. Do you know why I, a Selmer, left to join an upstart Bissem nation? I want peace and unity on Ivrana, no matter how far-fetched that might be. Isn’t that what you want, but with the galaxy?”
“Of course it is.”
“Then don’t let them kill your hopes and dreams. Make everything you dream of real, Tassi. If you have to sail halfway across the universe, I believe you’ll find the strength to do it. Leave seeing the bleak to me; you seek out the wonder, and give grumpy old soldiers like me a reason to fight.”
“What do you know? You can give motivational speeches, Naltor,” Dustin quipped, glancing over his shoulder. “I expected you were about to welcome her back to reality. You must have some line tucked away about the perfect philosophy of a cynic.”
Naltor cast a sly glance at Zalk. “What can I say? The fact that the nomads let your featherless ass go made me believe in miracles.”
“That was what sold you—not the fact we survived 300 species hellbent on killing us at our first contact? You guys have it made.”
“Do we now? Fuck you. Our people were murdered, not even knowing what hit them,” the Tseia grumbled.
Dustin’s teasing smile faltered. “In some ways, that’s kinder. They didn’t live their last moments in fear. I was only ruffling Naltor’s feathers; I’m sure we can both agree Lassmin has it easy.”
“You’re not the one who’ll have to suppress the riots,” Naltor huffed. “You can get in your spaceship and leave whenever you want.”
“That’s right. I don’t have to interact with you. Quick, Hallie, let’s make a run for it!”
The Thafki’s whiskers twitched. “I can’t run. Me fleeing would trigger all of your predator instincts.”
“Yes, we’re so famous for chasing prey when we go fishing.” Naltor patted his thick blubber with a flipper, cementing his sarcastic point. “You know, I think that’d be more up Dustin’s alley.”
“While we are an Arxur delicacy, I doubt he’d put in the legwork. The only thing he ever attacked for food was a vending machine.”
“That was one time!” the human protested, pitch rising with indignation. “You can’t just let the thing swipe your credits for nothing. Besides, the chips only needed a little help.”
“It was more than a little. Truly nothing gets between a persistence predator and his catch.”
“A what now?” I asked.
Dustin rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you later, Tassi. We’re about to be live on the air.”
It was all I could do to wipe the amused expression from my features, knowing the gravity of the topics we were about to broach to the masses; they couldn’t perceive that a public official was finding the whole debacle amusing. This posse had found a way to lift my spirits, between Naltor’s surprising sensitivity and the aliens’ playfulness. My brain had formed a mental image of Dustin assailing what sounded like a snack dispenser, ramming into the jammed machine with his spindly body. These aliens really weren’t enlightened, but I was starting to think of them as friends—scientific minds that were on my level. It was a silver lining to see that Haliska was warming up around us, and that she could joke about topics like predation or even her species being a delicacy. Of the team members, she’d opened up the least of all about her professional life, only slipping a few bits about the Commune and her parents’ water-related deaths.
Actually, what even are her professional qualifications? Hallie was the one trained to administer the translator implants, so perhaps that’s a clue. I hope she’ll prove herself here, and that the public can forgive her panic attack—a subject of rampant speculation.
The human clasped his hands in front of him, staring at the camera. “Hello! As many of you know, Haliska fleeing the feast created all sorts of speculation and rumors. I’m sorry to have kept you in suspense, but we’ve been trying to open relations with all governments—so that we could address all people when we talk about the reasons why. Unfortunately, my task is complicated by disturbing, new information we’ve uncovered.”
“The Lassian government has been working to gauge any threats to our safety, and we’re satisfied that there are none from this human-led organization,” General Naltor stated.
“Ivrana is experiencing ecological collapse, and the humans initiated contact to help us restore our world to a healthy state,” I added, keeping my voice steady. “Discussions with the Tseia have revealed some horrific tragedies, and secrets that we feel all Bissems have the right to know.”
Haliska flicked her ear. “We’ve been working to uncover the full information, and we’ll be sharing as much as we can about ourselves on the internet, in the name of transparency. What we want is to protect you, and help you navigate what is, frankly, a complex political situation.”
“I’m going to give you the short of it, just like I was given years ago, when we first learned it. I was pulled out of class, sitting in an auditorium, as a researcher from our version of FAI began to talk,” Dustin said. “What they told us was that the alien community was terrified of us, because we were a meat-eating species with forward-facing eyes. They deemed us predators. They’d all been fighting a war against the sole sapient carnivores for centuries…”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“And those carnivores, the Arxur, would keep species like mine as cattle, and eat them. The Federation demonized everything predatory, and obsessed over ridding anything tangentially related to predators. The Thafki are a broken race to this day, even after the humans liberated the cattle farms. It’s in the back of all of our heads that we’re…food. I don’t know how to describe the cultural trauma.”
“To be clear, the Arxur and the Federation were defeated. Nobody will threaten you today, or hate you the way humanity was hated. You won’t be involved with some psychotic war, or have to deal with the Federation’s cultural erasure. But the legacy is still there; some will fear and distrust you, even if it’s not their intent.
I lifted my beak. “Haliska became overwhelmed in the moment, at the feast, because of the clear reminder that she was the only herbivore. That was what happened, and the humans have been forthcoming about everything. They want the galaxy to be better, and to heal its wounds, no matter how gaping they might be.”
“There has been real progress, and I really was excited to be there. Fishing is an important part of Bissem culture, and you’re not the Arxur,” the Thafki added. “As a neuroscientist, it’s been my job to weigh the toll this all might have on your own psyche. I lost sight of mine. I’m sorry for reflecting poorly on aliens, and ruining a beautiful gesture from Lassmin.”
Haliska is a neuroscientist: brain research. I suppose understanding our chemical reactions and thought processes was important to predicting first contact. That must explain why the translator implants got handed off to her.
Dustin lowered his head. “You might wonder why various species behave so strangely. All I can say is we’re working to remove the Federation’s claws. As unsettling of a truth as it is, their efforts to turn other sapients into ‘perfect prey’ were violations of the rights the Sapient Coalition stands for. Genetic and cultural edits for control don’t vanish in a few decades, I’m afraid.”
“Yet I’ve seen the humans’ world, living in harmony irregardless of their background. They give their technology and pledge their assistance freely. Dustin has been selfless, risking his life to foster peace,” Naltor commented. “The humans are leaders. I believe they can inspire the best in people.”
“All we’ve ever wanted is friends; our arms are always open. We would never dream of harming you, or trying to change you. I hope you’ll judge us by our peaceful intentions, not the derangement of the past. I hope you’ll feel safe in knowing that science and kindness triumphed over ignorance and tyranny. While I’ll allow Zalk to tell this story, I hope that you’ll find some solace in knowing it will never happen again on our watch.”
The Tseia looked like he wanted to fold his head feathers over his eyes, when the expectation to speak fell on him. I didn’t know how this revelation would be taken by the masses, or by the other two governments apart from Lassmin. Our leadership had been stunned by the news, according to what Naltor had said, up to the highest echelons of governments; hushed debates over how to handle the deceit had included punitive action against Alsh, though sanctions wouldn’t quite work on isolationists. What would Bissems across the globe think when they heard how the nomads didn’t inform anyone about the attack, and kept the alien technology for themselves? It was a miracle that Naltor could contain his rage, with how they’d kept us in the dark to the threat. I thought that we needed to work together, and that we should take the flipper the Tseia had finally extended, but I wasn’t sure others would agree.
That’s not to mention billions of civilians hearing that aliens, from a species that was involved in the first contact party, tried to bomb civilians from orbit…to kill us like fish in a net. There was no reason for it, apart from feeling that we deserved death for our nature. Bissems will hear that aliens are crazy and genocidal.
Zalk’s gaze wandered, staring anywhere but the camera—confidence long gone. “We were attacked from the skies by an alien craft back in the 2980s. Our military knocked them down with a missile when they came closer, and was able to scour the wreckage…confirming its origin. We expected more to come back, and with a fight being hopeless, we kept it to ourselves. Time passed, and no more arrived…we studied the tech, making great discoveries. We didn’t trust others not to weaponize it against us.”
“Lassmin was not aware, and would’ve never covered up something so critical to all Bissems. We’re telling you as soon as we knew, which was a hundred years late,” Naltor commented, going way off-script.
“We were scared of a threat we didn’t understand, and we have a long history of outsiders working to undermine us. They could’ve pounced on our weakness, with cities burning. There was no Lassmin then: just centuries-old enemies.”
“But you didn’t ‘fess up in the hundred years since. You kept it all for yourselves. You let us send messages into the void that could’ve gotten us all killed. Explain that to the public!”
Dustin turned a glare on Naltor. “This is not the place or time. People are no doubt frightened, and they need unity. Bissem Unity: isn’t that what Lassmin stands for?”
“The Tseia only care for themselves. They gambled with our lives in their own self-interest. I’m making a statement on behalf of my nation, that this cannot be allowed to slide down the ice.”
“Healing wounds and minds is much more important than pride or evening the score. While I wouldn’t tell Bissems how to handle your affairs, I think the fear and the millions dead was a punishment of its own for the Tseia. Please, let’s not create any more fires now; the people have enough to come to terms with.”
“I know they do. I’m showing that we are demanding accountability for the betrayal of our entire species, even in the darkest times.”
“What they want is to feel safe! They just heard that aliens came to kill them en masse, and they want to know how Lassmin is protecting their safety. How you can trust humanity, even though it wasn’t us. To be clear, it wasn’t us.”
“We have no reason to believe humanity had any knowledge of the attack, or any involvement in it,” Zalk jumped in.
I straightened, eager to divert the conversation. “The humans weren’t even spacefaring when the attack occurred. It wasn’t a sanctioned act of the predecessor forum either, judging by how it didn’t show up on the official records; it was a rogue scout ship of aliens whose job was to target ‘predator’ wildlife. The humans couldn’t have known.”
“My species had no knowledge of this either. We didn’t even have our own planet or military at that time,” Haliska commented. “The Federation hid many truths from the wider populace. Even so, this wasn’t their doing. They were much more clinical.”
“As soon as this was brought to our attention, we’ve been trying to get answers, so Bissems can make some sense of this tragedy. We can’t undo the losses, but we can work together to increase Ivrana’s safety.” Dustin shot a pointed glance at Naltor and Zalk, before returning his binocular eyes toward the camera. “Understanding your history, without revisionism, will empower you. The only way to diffuse darkness is by shining a light on it.”
I puffed out my feathers, drawing strength from his steadfast words. “The public should know that our first contact, in the present day, has been much more positive. We have met aliens eager to share their culture, and to save our lives. Let us realize how much of a blessing that is, now more than ever.”
“The blessing is ours, to be able to share our culture. Too many aliens didn’t accept us either. In that way, I find that humanity and Bissems are brothers and sisters. My promise to all of you is that we’ll make our stellar neighborhood a better place, where these atrocities never happen to anyone. All I ask is that you stay strong, and join us. Thank you for coming to us with open ears, and listening to the full story.”
Dustin dipped his head toward the cameraman, and I sighed with relief as the signal cut out. Zalk rounded on the larger Selmer almost immediately, once the feed was off; Naltor’s beak hovered right between the Tseia’s eyes, and the two military officers’ posture for a standoff. As a Vritala, with my small body size tailored to enduring the heat, I stood at the lowest height of all of us. The human stepped in before I could weigh the risks of intervention, though he didn’t look the least bit intimidating. He pushed the two Bissems apart, holding them at arm’s length like a living piston. His binocular eyes narrowed with displeasure.
How will the other nations handle the Tseia’s betrayal? I doubt Naltor is the only one who wants to go a few rounds with Zalk. Hirsdammit, the public might be calling for blood.
“Are you two done with your pissing contest?” the alien spat. “This is a delicate situation. I don’t care who was wrong, or who fucked who over. I care about working together now, so that all of Ivrana can reap the benefits. If you’re not with me, I can take my ship back where I came from—because officiating your disputes isn’t why I came here.”
Naltor stepped back, folding his flippers. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. The Tseia deserved to squirm a little in front of the whole world.”
“You cloacabeak. Why don’t you suck my—” Zalk began.
Dustin stamped his foot. “Enough! Tassi, thank you for actually tending to the people’s feelings on television.”
“I want what you want. Peace here, and peace with the galaxy,” I answered. “I’m with you to the end. Just please, no matter what these chucklefucks do, don’t take off on your ship. If you give up, I think I will too.”
“I’m not going anywhere, but we need to learn to get along. It’s clear that introductions to the SC will have to wait, though don’t worry; Nulia has returned home to spread the news of the Starlight Incident far and wide. I’m hopeful it’ll ease the Yotul’s resistance, and I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, we should see how the public responds, and wait for Bissems to sort out your own squabbles over this trainwreck of a first contact.”
Naltor arced a flipper in a whimsical gesture. “That’s not fair to trainwrecks. They’re not this catastrophic.”
“Zalk’s right. You are a cloacabeak.”
“For what it’s worth, the calamitousness of this mission is where Naltor and I agree,” the Tseia chimed in, his voice calm once more. “I came here to accept humanity’s friendship. However, the Selmer will not humiliate me, or put me in a position where I have to defend myself, again. I’ve thought much about how Dustin asked if we were miserable; it would be merciful to have someone stand beside us.”
Haliska’s ears perked up. “The Sapient Coalition will. We should spend some time getting to know each other, in a more lighthearted scenario—like friends do. Naltor and Tassi benefitted from seeing us as people. I have a suggestion for what we could do, that’d make Zalk feel at home: and that we’d all recognize.”
“What’s that? I wouldn’t mind a little boating, and feeling the sea spray on my beak. I’ve never seen the waters or the lands away from Alsh.”
“That could be arranged, but it wasn’t what I had in mind. How about a game of Migration? It’s one of the few Tseia cultural exports we could find. I wager I can kick everyone here’s ass.”
“Well, it’s impressive that you know how to play, but I highly doubt you can beat a skilled player. I’m not the type to let you win.”
Dustin’s teeth bared with devilish delight. “Oh, you better watch out for Hallie. She’s a Migration menace.”
“I’ll be the first one out, but count me in,” I remarked. “Naltor?”
Naltor sighed. “Hallie spanked us all when we played on the ship, but I wasn’t ready for her wily strategy. I’m itching for some sweet revenge…and to beat a Tseia at his own game.”
“It’s so on,” Zalk fired back.
While the rest of the world reacted to the news we had just unloaded on them, I followed the first contact team to play a Bissem boardgame; after all that had been heaped onto our plates, it would bring some much needed pleasure to our time together. I knew that the general reaction to the press conference would be on everyone’s minds, but we could go over it later. At the heart of my worries, I hoped that other important individuals, beyond just Naltor, could put their resentment toward the Tseia aside. With an indefinite buffer already proposed by Dustin, the last thing I wanted was our Sapient Coalition introduction to be delayed even further.