Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: May 14, 2160
The Krev Consortium had been true to their promises for bringing Tellus up to their technological standards. I stood atop a cliff overhang, looking at what had once been an empty steppe. Towering skyscrapers were clustered together, more than we could ever use with our current populace; perhaps they could be filled, once the new generation the Trombil were already creating in ectogenesis chambers grew up. Until then, us colonists could have as luxurious of accommodations as we wanted. Several buildings housed services, or gave better spaces to businesses, such as the bistro Cherise’s uncle ran. Human-ran enterprises were busier than ever, with the Krev volunteers clamoring to sample our food. Our predator food.
Holographic interfaces also projected messages along the sides of the towering structures, allowing us to catch Consortium news headlines at a glance—not that they hadn’t given us all of the electronic devices we could desire, and access to their internet and live feeds. The Smiglis couldn’t get us online quickly enough, and seemed to have a lot of interest in hiring us for entertainment gigs. My eyes shifted over to the open-air arena they’d built, which had more seats than we had people; an elevated stage was where some famed musician named Millenk was putting on an extravaganza in a few days. I expected most of the colony would arrive for the live concert, complete with flair. It was strange to think of us gathering for events like we did on Earth, or just having something to look forward to.
Moving sidewalks and bullet trains connected the sprawling city, with the aliens leaving some green spaces for us to enjoy nature. While Tellus’ water was mostly underground, the Krev pieced together that we liked to build our settlements near waterways, and created a canal that separated the city in half. A “boardwalk” was being laid down, along with a marina for some small boats to set sail, meant to give us a taste of the mariner’s life from home. The Trombil sought our permission to add a bit of their own touch, before building a few bridges that looked like turtle shells—and glowed in the dark. I guessed their homeworld had some similar architecture, perhaps a further extension of their merging the organic and the mechanical. Everything they constructed came to life with rapid-fire automation that our technology couldn’t begin to rival.
Most humans are moving out of the underground cavern, which is being shifted to a cultural vault and a bunker. I mean, of course we are packing it up! Gress was right to call what we had going on a “hovel.” Compared to this, it was.
I turned my gaze toward what had once been the landing pad where I would meet Gress for payment handoffs. It was now a sprawling spaceport, with alien vessels coming and going; one of those were likely the instructors and alien enlistees who would help train the Consortium’s first human soldiers. Behind me was a military base built by the Reskets, set up on high ground—where we’d been advised to wait. So much had changed over a short time for me, as I found myself living for the prospect of revenge on the Federation. Cherise helped me train with the militia, so that I wouldn’t have a rude awakening at alien boot camp; I put in the work, reminded of the miners’ needless toil—which I could’ve stopped sooner. This was about serving humanity, and doing something I could be proud of.
Most animosity toward the Krev had been blown away, with our common enemy and all that they’d done. I spoke to Gress daily, mostly in-person as he stayed on Tellus, but also over holopad like I was doing now; he loved sending short clips of Lecca’s dancing, or Juvre pressing an insect bowl to his face to lick it clean. The Krev rent collector was now the chief diplomat between his people and humanity, a job that was suddenly coveted. The sole time he’d leave our planet was for his biweekly custody of Lecca: Avor seemed to consider a week nine of their days, with the final three deemed the weekend. He was en route back to Tellus to be my bunkmate for the training, despite the fact that he’d have separate lessons. Communication specialists weren’t considered a combat role.
“This will be my first real interaction with the laypeople of the other species. I get it, they want us familiar…working with aliens,” I murmured. “I’m a little nervous. I’d like them to be our friends, but that mentality’s gotten us burned before. You feel me, Gress?”
“Everything is going to be fine. I’ll be there in an hour for moral support.” The Krev leaned back in his pilot’s seat; just like the Ulchids promised, the Consortium had set up comms that somehow worked faster-than-light. “You heard straight from their leaders how they want to help you, and those leaders govern by the people’s will. They’re all choosing to come way out here, instead of a normal camp on their planet, for you.”
“Yeah, it’s just anxiety talking. I wonder if General Radai really is coming here in person. That would be a lot of pressure on me. I’ve put in the work at the gym, but I’m still not…keeping up with Cherise or any other guards. What I want is to turn my life around, for all the people I’ve let down.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re one enlistee; you’re not expected to blow Radai’s feathers off, or to excel at everything out of the gate. Having instruction from the best will only set you up for success.”
I scratched my hair, which I’d let grow out a few inches. “I hear you. I’m just looking out over the whole city now, watching their convoy draw closer. It’s all become real. And shit, nobody’s as mellow and unassuming as you.”
“Me personally, or all Krev?”
“Well, both. You’re hard to take seriously sometimes.”
Gress snorted. “Have you seen what you look like? Taking humans seriously requires a lot of effort.”
“Gee, thanks. That’s the perfect thing to say to someone with deep-rooted insecurities about their appearance.”
“It’s a compliment. It means you’re the opposite of scary. I assure you, we feel anything but hatred toward humans.”
A smirk crossed my face, amused at the irony of the situation. While it meant we’d have to roll our intimidation checks at a disadvantage, it was a net positive to be considered the cute things for once: to get showered with gifts, and not to be treated like abominations. I’d grown accustomed to Gress finding us adorable; it wasn’t something I’d freely admit, since it’d encourage him, but I found it a little endearing to see his heart melting. I wished the Krev talked more about himself, rather than humanity or his family. The glimpses of his personality reflected well on his character, and what was important to him.
We owe our sudden reversal of fortune to him, in many ways; Gress was eager to do as much as possible to help us. He believes in me for reasons even I don’t know, but I needed the push.
I kept my pupils on the alien convoy, watching it begin to slither up the hillside. “How is everything on Avor?”
“Everyone’s still swept up in ‘human fever’—that’s what the media’s dubbed the phenomenon. Primatologists clamoring to be here, signup pages for the exchange program crashing, while it all fell into my lap,” Gress chuckled. “You know, ‘humans’ are the top searched item on our entire internet…for the sixth week in a row. Krev want to soak up everything they can about you.”
“Hey, I’ll bite. What exactly is making the rounds about us, other than our tragic demise?”
“Every behavior and quirk. Every last bit of your culture and history! Old videos of concerts…your sports are a hit, seeing you oh-so-serious about your goofy contests of strength. Enough so that they’re being rebroadcasted with Krev commentators, like they’re live results. The horse races are a massive hit, seeing humans that are often of small statures, in flashy colors, and using a powerful animal to run with the wind…”
I shook my head. “None of our movies or TV took off?”
“Um, we like some of them, but it’s…hard to watch common displays of graphic violence. Not that we have a problem with violence—we know it’s part of a primate’s personality. Our shows are hardly Federation-friendly, you know. It’s just…it hurts seeing a cute thing get butchered, or die. Does that make any sense?”
“I guess. In human terms, it’s like watching a puppy get killed while pitifully whimpering?”
“From what little I’ve learned about dogs, I believe so. That said, we want to see humans in our media! Part of why the Smiglis are pouncing on any human actors or musicians. Anyone with the slightest talent could take off. You probably could, Taylor. I know you play an instrument. If you paired it with some sad words about home...”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Gress, if you’d heard me singing in the shower, you’d know I can’t croon any piano ballads.”
“Hang on. You sing in the shower? Is…is this a common human behavior?”
“Yeah? Fuck, are you judging me?”
“I am. It’s too much. I can just picture you singing, all soapy and…shit. Why does everything humans do have to be so cute?!”
“You’re unbelievable, man. I’m putting you in timeout.”
“What? Don’t go!”
“I have to. The alien-mobile made it here, and I’m gonna see if Radai came…try to get over my nerves, help with unloading if I can. I can see them by the trucks—”
“Go. If you spoke to the Consortium leaders before, what’s a few grunts? Now why are you still on the call?”
I rolled my eyes. “See you soon, Gress.”
Disconnecting from the call, I clipped my holopad back to my belt; the athleticwear I was sporting was Krev-made, a sort of thin armor blended with forest-patterned fabrics. Some humans still opted to wear our more traditional camouflage and combat attire, but I found the lightweight gear much more to my liking. Hopefully, the practice I’d done at the range with Cherise would mean I wouldn’t put on a complete clown show with the guns. Taking calm strides back toward the convoy, I saw dozens of aliens scurrying belongings out of the vehicles. Some beelined to reserve a bunk straight away, while others were scoping out the area before deciding. Krev, Reskets, Jaslips, and Trombil were among the volunteers, though there was a notable shortage of Smiglis and Ulchids; I supposed they couldn’t exactly take marching orders.
Overwhelmed by the sheer number of aliens that’d be commingling with us, I found myself wandering through the crowd in a daze. There was no sign of General Radai, but I could hear a few other Reskets barking at the new soldiers—especially the ones who still hadn’t gotten their gear off the trucks. Was this how they were going to speak at us, like outraged drill sergeants? I guessed that was very similar to home; I still wanted to prepare myself for the worst of their commentary. I drifted closer to one voice, where a pink avian was chasing a Jaslip, who had her ears pinned back. She had to use a bipedal stance to carry the hefty container, since her tails couldn’t hold that much weight. The white-furred quadruped was occasionally kicked in the hindleg by one of the Resket’s clawed legs, hindering her further.
“Move faster, you fucking terrorist! Get your ass in gear.” My blood ran cold as I picked out the contents of what the officer was saying. “It’s your food, so that you can be pampered while we teach you how to murder. Just pretend you’re carrying a bomb to plant in Delegates Tower, and I’m sure that’ll help you pick it up.”
The Jaslip skidded to a halt, baring her teeth. “How dare you?”
“I’m sorry, maybe you came here because there’s a new species to butcher? It’s so fucking stupid that we have to let you freaks in the military, teach you how to kill us. I’m going to make your life a living hell, you—”
“What did you just say to her?” Anger caused my features to curve downward, and for a moment, I forgot Gress’ warning about not pissing off a Resket. “Leave her alone, you racist slug. She hasn’t done anything.”
The nine-foot-tall bird whirled around, and planted a rough kick in my chest. Pain seared through my sternum, like burning vines growing into my breastbone, leaving me wheezing on the ground. I pressed a palm to my midsection, before clawing my way back to my feet. The Resket was staring at me with absolute scorn, beak lowered near inches from my face. Despite knowing I couldn’t take the officer, I held my ground; my eyes didn’t back away from the challenge, meeting his gaze. The Jaslip stood frozen, unsure whether to intervene in our staring contest. Her tail fronds twitched with restlessness, and perhaps a bit of rage.
Gress might have to negotiate me away from the Resket; I feel like a hostage now. But I can’t let him say shit like that to the Jaslip, and do nothing. I won’t.
“Ah, if it isn’t the Krev’s new pets,” the bird hissed. “I’ll be watching you, human. You’ll live to regret this.”
I doubled over as soon as the Resket stalked back to the convoy, to prey on another unsuspecting soul; relief flooded my veins. For a second, I’d thought I was going to be mauled for my defiance. My eyes squeezed shut in irritation, realizing that in my first interactions with the aliens, I’d already stirred up trouble and made an enemy. Nothing I touched went smoothly, as of late, did it? The Jaslip was waiting behind me, still holding the rations crate, so I tried to collect myself. She walked over to me, forward-facing eyes brimming with concern.
“Kibblarhan,” she spat at the receding officer. “Are you okay? You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have. Trainer Mafani is going to have it out for you now. You should probably tell him that you’re new, and didn’t understand what you were doing…try to make it up to him.”
I raised a middle finger at the pink bird’s tail feathers. “Nah, fuck that. Guy’s a jackass. I’ve heard bigotry directed at humans, calling us monsters, for way too long to let that slide, officer or not. What’s a kibblarhan?”
“We usually don’t translate Nairova, since it’s designed to elude translators…but I’ll give you this one free for helping me. Kibblarhan means sisterfucker. It’s a vulgar insult: low as it gets.”
“Neat. I can always use more obscenities to throw at folks. I’m Taylor.”
“Quana. I’m…still not sure you want to align yourself too closely with me, but I’m grateful for the help.”
I made direct eye contact, basking in a binocular-eyed alien returning the gesture. “Don’t mention it. Mafani is a kibblarhan in my book too. Besides, us predators have to stick together, right?”
“Ha, I guess so. Er, look, they want no more than…three of one species in a single dorm…and we can’t pair with anyone we know. Special orders. Thing is, I don’t think other races, um, want Jaslips. Especially not ones like me. Any chance you have an open bunk?”
I raised my eyebrows, wondering what she meant by Jaslips like her. “A Krev friend of mine already claimed top bunk of my particular space, but I can find you an adjacent one. I don’t think anyone’s set up next to us, so you just have to get there first.”
“That’ll be perfect. Thank you, Taylor.”
“No problem. Let me help you carry that case to the mess, then I’ll show you where we’re set up.”
My fury at Mafani had evaporated my apprehension about engaging with aliens. If this was the standard treatment for Jaslip recruits, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them; prejudice against an entire species, borne of things done by a small handful of people, was difficult to overcome. Perhaps these fluffy aliens were just as wishful for earnest friends as we were. The pain from the kick to my chest had subsided enough that I could lug the crate up to the large brick building, leaving it in the stack Quana pointed out to me. I bit back my questions, as curiosity about her kind wormed its way into my brain. What was important was showing her to the bunk, and not seeming too nosy.
What’s this Nairova? Quana said it’s a language created to avoid the translators; the Jaslips want to talk without other aliens understanding. By “like her,” did she mean knowing that secretive tongue? I know the Krev hated our lack of forthcomingness.
Quana retrieved a small knapsack, which she dragged with her tail to our hab module. There were sixteen beds total in this partition, though aside from a human, a Krev, and a Trombil who’d buddied up, it was pretty vacant. I watched my new friend move the tote bag, utilizing the three fronds like fingers, and tossing it onto the bunk with ease. It was impossible not to stare, with how blatantly inhuman the behavior was. The Jaslip seated herself on the mattress, stretching her limbs out, before perking her ears up at me.
“You’re gawking at me. Do I have a glob of Mafani’s spit stuck on my muzzle?” Quana asked.
I chuckled in spite of myself. “No. I’m just curious to learn about your species. Some of the things you’ve said raised questions.”
“Like what? Ask away.”
“Well, I don’t get why people don’t want you around…what you meant by Jaslips like you. Are you related to someone they don’t like? Ex-convict? Part of the official Resket hate club? What’s the scoop?”
“If there was an official Resket hate club, I’d join, but that’s not why. How much do you know about the Great Relocation? You know that Jaslips were forcibly removed from Esquo?”
“I do.”
“The…relocated Jaslips weren’t sent to the enclave on Avor, Taylor; most of us were sent to the Smiglis’ planet, Omnol. Officially, it’s so we can be as far from the Federation as possible.”
“And unofficially?”
“It was to keep us as far from both Avor and Esquo as possible. There’s travel restrictions on Jaslips tied to ‘dissident activities’ to this day. We’re considered the most likely to cause trouble. As far as the rest of the Consortium is concerned, Esquo’s Fighters on Omnol is a haven for extremism: we’re all violent radicals. Seeing a signup from my enclave makes it easy for the Reskets to identify us. They have more of a grudge than the Krev.”
I crossed my arms, digesting the information. “The Krev are the ones who bombed you. Why would the Reskets have it out for you more?”
“If you think the Krev bombed us without at least tacit support from their allies, you’re wrong. At any rate, the Reskets were the soldiers sent in to remove us. Thanks to Esquo’s extreme weather, they struggled, and couldn’t quite round up everyone. It embarrassed them, when losses piled up over years and forced them to retreat.”
“Huh. Well, invasions thwarted by a hellish winter are a story we’ve seen on Earth too. If they’re that openly salty about it, I have to wonder why they’ll even train Jaslips.”
Quana’s whiskers twitched. “There’s no greater combat specialist in cold or snowy conditions. We’re useful, and that’s without mentioning that we’re good trackers. No one better to defend the poles. No one better to go on a lengthy journey, given that we can hibernate naturally.”
“That would’ve been real nice on the ark ship. What’s it like to hibernate?”
“Imagine sleep, if you felt as cold and unbreathing as death, didn’t feel rested at all when you woke up, and it wrecked your sense of time.”
“So it’s like getting shitfaced?”
The Jaslip snickered. “Not at all. You’re a tailful, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. Next to the word ‘tailful’ in your dictionary, you’ll see a picture of my grinning face.”
“I’ll have to fact check that one.”
Smiling from ear to ear, I flopped back on the bunk, keeping an eye on the time so I’d be punctual for roll call. There were still numerous questions bubbling in my mind about the Jaslips, but I decided to let Quana unpack before peppering her with more questions. It might’ve been too soon to have an in-depth discussion about Esquo anyway. Gress was bound to be here any moment, and I hoped there wouldn’t be an issue with him and my fluffy friend. The Krev should definitely refrain from mentioning his belief that killing the stragglers was the right choice.
Knowing what the Federation would’ve done to a predator race, I wasn’t sure I disagreed with the Jaslip debacle being a necessary evil. Still, it was doubtful that making that case to Quana, a descendant of the relocated, would achieve any good.