Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: May 14, 2160
Keeping one eye on the hab module’s entrance, I found myself thinking as I waited for Gress to arrive. The sudden change of our circumstances wasn’t lost on me; I never would’ve dreamed two months ago that I’d be chatting it up with an alien I barely knew, who had binocular eyes and a carnivorous palate. It would’ve defied my imagination that I’d sign up to take marching orders from a bird, after avians were responsible for our near-extinction. That was without mention that the rent collector I once loathed was now someone I talked with daily, who’d wrangled up help building this entire city from the cyborg turtles. It was shocking that Gress had tolerated my unmasked face, let alone deemed me cute.
The Krev can hardly look at us without getting melty-eyed, but I haven’t seen that from the Jaslips or the Reskets. Where does Quana find humans, on a scale of “monstrosity” to “precious, pettable monkeys?”
“Sooooo,” I ventured, unsure how to broach the subject. “You, um, know how the Krev find us…”
Quana’s laughter was a light rumble. “Cute?”
“Yeah. I was sorta wondering what the other species thought about that, and uh, how we look to you.”
“I don’t mind primates, but you’re nothing special to me. No offense. Honestly, while there’s the oddball obor owner outside of the Krev species, that never took off on other planets. We domesticate animals, just not in that way. It…must be weird for you, I take it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The way they treat us like little cuddle bunnies is the weird part. The obors are a breath of fresh air, and we’re cool with it. We’re…we were the weirdos that would try to keep anything as a pet. Hell, I’ve heard people on Earth tried keeping pet monkeys, but that wasn’t so successful. A handful of our colonists already adopted obors, the second travel opened up, so we’ll see how that goes.”
“Really? I would’ve thought it’d be too uncanny for you to adopt another primate as a pet. Are you thinking of getting an obor?”
“Fuck no. You look at ‘em wrong and those things just attack. There’s a lot of lonely humans that want companionship, and miss our canine and feline friends from home—but their desperation shows.”
“You better not say that within earshot of a Krev, or they’ll see to ‘fixing’ that.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. To be honest with you, we’re so affection-starved that it’s not the worst thing in the world—but don’t go around saying that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, Taylor.”
“I sure hope so. My buddy’ll be here any minute,” I chuckled. “Enough of my ‘Woe is Tellus’ spiel. You knew the Reskets would treat you like shit, right? So why join the military at all?”
Quana pinned her ears back. “I signed up for you. Hearing what humanity went through…I think I can put up with kibblarhans like Mafani for a few weeks. You lost everything, fleeing your homeworld just like us, but you believed you’d be killed on sight. You lived underground in brutal conditions for decades. Even with gifted ships, a few thousand of you can’t mount a defense alone—and the Cage for Tellus won’t be done for years. Someone has to be there for you, and keep you safe.”
“I see. I’m…honestly touched that other races care about us at all. Our lives meant so little to them, and you’re willing to come all the way out here just to—”
“It’s nothing. We help you when you’re at your lowest, and some day, you’ll repay the favor. That’s how these things go. A friendship of generations, and one that’s not mired in old resentments, like us and the rest of the Consortium.”
“Ha, I sure hope we wouldn’t have gotten off on the wrong foot already, Quana. We’ve had enough aliens pick a fight with us from day one. Now, my friend has yet to show his face, so we should head to roll call. Don’t need any more Reskets up our asses.”
The Jaslip flicked her triangular ear in acknowledgment, and an intrusive thought wormed its way into my brain, musing how soft her silky fur would be to the touch. I guess the spirit of Gress had possessed my psyche for a quick second, though I pushed it away without any silly remarks of his sort. Checking my holopad, it seemed we were well ahead of schedule, and could file into the designated area with plenty of time to spare. Quana trailed behind me as I exited the hab module, and I collided head-on with a wall of green scales. With an undignified screech, I crumpled to the floor; concern rushed across Gress’ face, though he didn’t seem unbalanced at all.
Shit, those Krev scales are hardy. It’s like running into a brick wall!
Gress’ claws wrapped around my forearm, hoisting me to my feet. “Taylor. I didn’t mean to bowl you over. Are you alright?”
“Ugh. Fuck off. That’s my second time getting decked this afternoon,” I groaned.
“Oh really? What was the first?” Cherise prompted, from her position just behind the Krev. “Who did you piss off now?”
“I got kicked by a Resket. It’s a long story, but I made a friend out of it and I regret nothing.”
“That’s no joke! A Resket could’ve caved in your chest, if they wanted to.” Gress’ paw migrated to my chest, feeling whether my bones were intact; he paused at my pained huff, when he touched the inflamed area. “You should get that checked out by medical staff, and report whoever—”
The Krev’s words broke off as he moved to my side, and laid eyes on Quana. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing that the Jaslip had fixed him with a glare that could melt ice. She hadn’t looked this incensed when Mafani was laying into her; I’d feared she might have problems with Gress’ kind, but it’d sounded like the Reskets were the worst. The scaly mammal was fixated on a swirling symbol where the fur was cut shorter on her chest, looking like he’d seen a ghost. He raised a claw in accusatory fashion toward her, before turning back to me in a panic.
“No. Forget what I said earlier; pick a different friend.” Gress’ voice was breathy, as his eyes became lined with tears. “That enclave symbol: Jaslips from the Smigli world are bad news, Taylor.”
Quana bared her teeth, revealing serrated fangs and elongated canines. “Your friend is the kit-killer, human? This bastard let Jaslip children die to save a few aristocrat blowhards.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never! Your people are fucking monsters, and I won’t humiliate myself by being anywhere near you!”
“Whoa. Why don’t we all just take a breath, and calm down a little? We can work this out,” Cherise ventured, shooting a glance at me that asked what I’d gotten myself into. “I think I’m a little out of the loop—”
“Gress is the monster. Jaslip lives weren’t worth it to him. It’s part of a long history of Krev in positions of power not caring how many of us died!” Quana growled.
The Krev was staring at his claws like they’d betrayed him, gaze growing wilder. “You don’t know me. You and your people act like we each personally were involved with Esquo. Meanwhile, you Jaslips throw away your own lives, then blame everyone but yourselves! You could be in the same place as Earth—we saved you, and you make us regret it every day.”
“That is out of line,” I hissed to Gress.
“Really? You’re on her side…after everything?”
“You’re being a dick. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
“Then let me make it simple. You get rid of her, or I’ll never speak with you again.”
Cherise reached out a hand to try to stop the Krev, as he stormed past, before thinking better of it. Shock tingled in my veins, as I replayed what had just happened; I’d never seen mellow, wise Gress behave in such explosive fashion. How could he throw an ultimatum at me like that, with zero explanations? After everything we’d been through, and how over the moon he was to befriend humans, he must truly hate Jaslips from Quana’s enclave. I was scrambling to put the pieces together. Given that the three-tailed carnivore recognized him, it must be because of that infamous incident—the hostage situation with Jaslip extremists that Gress refused to talk about. What had really happened?
I’ve seen how sweet Gress is with children, from his own daughter to the little girl back in the cavern. I find it hard to believe he’d callously thrown away Jaslip kids. He mentioned it took his sanity, so…something happened with kits dying, and seeing Quana brings it back?
I raised a finger at Quana, deciding it was time to stop respecting his privacy. “Forgive me for spending the last twenty years in a hole…but I spent the last twenty years in a hole. What do you mean that Gress let Jaslip kids die?”
“That rotten prick was given a choice to save five of the captives held by the, admittedly, crazed Fighters trying to make a point. I don’t agree with what they did, but this is about Gress,” the Jaslip hissed. “There were five kits, and five of the who’s-who of Tonvos—including Delegate Riccin and the Master of the Treasury. That man picked the five Krev without hesitating, or even trying to bargain!”
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Cherise shook her head. “That can’t be right. I haven’t known Gress that long, but I know he cares about life. He didn’t want anyone to die here, even when he hated us.”
“For all the Krev care about life, they still pulled off the Esquo Massacre. They slaughtered people indiscriminately for going against them, then act like they’ve done the Consortium a favor. That tells you they’re quite capable of trading lives. You heard Gress call it our salvation; that’s what he thinks of Jaslip deaths.”
“Quana, ‘Massacre’ is a bit dramatic. Jeez. Gress has a point that your world could’ve turned out like Earth.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, and the Jaslip’s withering glare fell on me. “You act like you know what it’s like, talk like it’s equivalent to our situation. It’s not.”
Cherise hesitated. “Nobody wants to genocide the Jaslips for their eyes, but still, their government didn’t give permission for the Krev to finish off the remainder. It was a violation of autonomy, regardless of how much worse it was on Earth.”
“It sucks that the Krev did it during hibernation, but it’s blown out of proportion. They spent thirty years evac’ing billions of Jaslips, and Quana is alive because they moved some of the holdouts—they tried. They at least cared more than the Feds. A few stragglers died on Esquo, compared to all ten billion of us!”
“A few stragglers?” Quana laughed bitterly, lips curling back in a sneer. “Is that how your Krev friend put it? Tell me your definition of a few. How many Jaslips were killed or relocated during the Esquo Massacre?”
“A couple million…not that that’s small, but compared to the total…”
“Higher.”
“Fifty million?” Cherise asked tentatively, not daring to go any higher. “That would be a lot of stragglers, but I...”
“Add some zeroes, humans.”
Hurt tugged my eyebrows down, as I questioned why Gress had glossed over the calamity’s scale. “A hundred million? Two hundred million…? Three?”
“Well, you’ve gotten how many were killed…it was a tad bit higher, but I’ll give it to you. I asked you the total relocated and killed.”
“Five hundred million.” Cherise frowned, as Quana’s pupils flicked upward: higher. The human security guard understood as well as I did that this was becoming a sizable proportion of the Jaslip population. “A b-billion.”
“One billion stragglers that didn’t want to leave Esquo, but you know, the Krev saved us. Why are we so dramatic, right, Taylor? Those are amateur numbers. It’s actually okay, because 70% of us ended up on Omnol alive!”
“I…I didn’t know. That is a lot more like Earth than I thought.” No wonder the Jaslip government wouldn’t sign on to bombing a billion souls, or even when it was “whittled down” to a few hundred million. “You don’t move on from that many deaths. We know that, and I’m sorry, Quana. Gress gave zero indication that it was anything on that scale.”
“Of course he didn’t; I can forgive your ignorance. Gress didn’t want you to spot the monster in him, so he blew it off. It’s hard to claim the Krev protected us, when they just did the Federation’s work for them.”
“I…I thought he was my friend. I thought he was a good man.”
Cherise grabbed my elbow. “Do you want to confront him?”
“No. I’m not missing roll call for this fucking guy. I don’t want to talk to Gress, realizing what a slimeball he was. I looked to him for guidance…to get my life back on track. Fuck him.”
“Let’s go together. Send a message,” Quana decided. “By the way, human number two, I’m Quana. Do you have a name, foul predator?”
Cherise grinned, dimples showing on her olive cheeks. “Cherise Benson. I see you’ve already met Taylor Trench, enemy of obors.”
“That’s right. I’m gonna steal Gress’ obor, and punt him from the orbital rings,” I added. “Quick way to test terminal velocity on Avor. Juvre’s sacrifice for science will be appreciated.”
“That poor obor did nothing wrong. I think you’d get along great if you kept him; you could put some dried insects on your head for him to eat, and…”
“I will let the Reskets pummel you.”
“Temperamental as always. We’re here, hotshot.”
I glanced around at my fellow recruits, lining up in rows throughout the courtyard; seeing many humans wearing that forest-colored athleticwear crafted by the Krev, reminded me that I had donned it—that I had allied myself with them so readily, because I trusted Gress. Their species had done a great deal to save Tellus, so I knew it was irrational to want to shirk every association with them. Quana expressed distaste for Gress specifically, not all Krev; she would’ve accepted a different individual as my friend, so they couldn’t all be this twisted. I guessed it just turned out the other bunk had a vacancy after all. Still, after I’d finally opened myself up to an alien, this was how I was rewarded?
Hopefully, Gress follows through on his promise not to speak to me again. I’m sure as shit not ditching Quana.
The Resket commanders began reading names as soon as they stepped into the courtyard, bellowing them at such a volume that it jolted me out of my thoughts. I tried to stand at attention, and wipe any semblance of sadness from my face. After everything I’d gotten through on Tellus, this should be nothing. It was a random Krev that I’d known for all of two months, and who’d never really opened up about himself for reasons I could see now; I wasn’t sure why this betrayal stung so deeply in my heart, unless I was that desperate to be loved. Quana kicked my ankle as an officer called my name, and I bellowed the word “here” in an emotional voice. Without Gress, this was really about getting vengeance for Earth.
“Alright, you chubby, oversized obors!” Mafani had assumed control of my row, having picked Quana and I out of the crowd with ease. He walked from side to side, passing out black helmets that looked like motorcycle gear to each human. “Normal species wear contacts, but apparently, we’ve got to hide your faces, in case the Feds mosey on out here. This shit is called ‘augmented reality.’ There’s a button on the side; press it with a booger-eating finger, and it turns on. That’s right, I know how nasty primates are.”
I thought about shoving a finger up my nose, and flicking it at the jackass to send a message. “I guess this guy’s decided to go after our whole species, thanks to our encounter.”
“Silence! Non-humans, insert your contacts right the fuck now. This is your compass, your name directory, and your intelligence center all in one; it’ll help you maybe line your shots up, and track the enemy, rather than tracking your receding hairline. You get your helmet, you move the fuck out. Go to the range and get some shooting in. Whoever does the worst is going to fucking get it. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!” a few of the more gung-ho humans shouted.
“Good. You pissants better not slow us all down. I don’t take it from the Trombil, and I won’t take it from you.” The Resket passed helmets out of a box, conveniently getting to me last. He made a show of turning the empty box upside-down, before crushing the cardboard in a dramatic display. “Oh, that’s a shame. It looks like we’re one short. You’ll have to shoot without it, Taylor.”
I scowled at Trainer Mafani. “You made sure I didn’t get my gear on purpose.”
“I wasn’t given enough helmets. The box was empty. Do we have a fucking problem?”
“As a matter of fact, we do.” I snapped my head off to the right, where General Radai was sprinting at terrifying speed. He skidded to a halt, inches away from barreling Mafani over. “I found this at the back of the supply truck, right after you ducked in there. Care to explain?”
“Oh. It…must’ve been left there by mistake.”
“You wouldn’t be so dishonorable to not only use cheap tricks in a dispute, abusing a power disparity, but then to lie to cover for yourself? That’d be ruinous.”
“Of course not, General. I’m embarrassed that you’d think such a thing.”
“As you should be. Confine yourself to your quarters for the day. I suspect you need some reflection on duty.”
“But I’m supposed to train—”
“I will handle the training. You won’t go near Taylor Trench again; if you do, there’ll be real fucking consequences. Now get lost!”
Mafani slunk away, shooting me a look of absolute loathing. I turned my head away from him, pressed a squirming finger to the outside of my nostril so it looked like I was picking my nose, and then popped my digit into my mouth with a shit-eating grin. The Resket’s eyes glowed like he wanted to kick me down again, but he wouldn’t dare with Radai watching him like a hawk. Quana laughed into her paw, while Cherise pretended to be busy inspecting her helmet. It was satisfying to see our rival put in his place, and to have someone swoop in that wouldn’t sabotage my training at every turn. I extended my hands, and the Resket general transferred the helmet to my custody.
Radai promised to oversee our training, but I wasn’t sure he actually would. I mean, he’s the leader of the Consortium military. Surely he has more important things to do than fulfill some half-baked offer.
I slipped the helmet over my head, tapping the on-button. “Thank you, General. I appreciate your time.”
“There’s no better way to assess human capabilities than in person. I’ll be going anything but easy on you,” Radai replied. “It responds to your eye movements, and you can activate commands by focusing your pupils on the tiny prompts in your periphery. Pull up the map overlay, and select the range. Then, get your ass in gear.”
“Yes, sir. Pulling it up now.” I trained my pupils on the English words in the lower corners of the helmet display, and lingered on the “map” label. It pulled up a diagram of the local layout, with options further down to zoom out, as far as the planetary or even the stellar level. I studied the part of a fielded area labeled “range,” and the overlay faded; replaced by visual and audio walking directions. “Got it. On my way.”
“This is neat,” Cherise murmured, as we hustled. “You can judge distances between objects at a glance…how fast things are moving. Wind speed. Your current coordinates, and distance to the objective.”
“I’m just happy it’s air conditioned. Hey, what’s this water droplet icon for?” I blinked in surprise, as selecting that cue rotated a nozzle I hadn’t noticed; a quick once-over by Cherise showed me a port for attaching my water carrier. I tried to drink from it, and the system seemed to assist with defying gravity. “Shit, you don’t even have to take this off to hydrate. This is way better than the helmets we wore.”
“That’s some of the next-generation stuff, though it’s best suited for binocular eyes; the peripheral versions still need some tweaking, or so I’ve heard,” Quana remarked. “Those brain baskets impede bullets, monitor vitals, filter out toxins, and do all sorts of fancy shit. Estimate the count of your bullets or energy cells, switch to night vision…help you perform first aid on yourself or another, if your medic goes down.”
“Cool beans. I’m not used to having this much info thrown at me in real time, but I see why Mafani didn’t want me to get one of these. That would be a disadvantage, especially since, if I’m reading this right, it seems to be able to target lock and suggest corrections to your aim.”
Cherise adjusted her helmet, grunting. “I haven’t got that. How do you do that?”
“Flick the chin button while looking toward what you want to shoot. Let me try to target-lock Quana; the dumb thing’s asking me, ‘Are you sure? Combatant is marked friendly. Confirmation of this setting will be reported to your commanding officer.’”
The Jaslip snorted. “Joke’s on you for needing to target me from [two feet] away. Now quit goofing off, before we get another Resket on our case…this one for legitimate reasons.”
“What can I say? I’m a tailful, remember?”
My carnivorous friend giggled, and despite the emotional taxation of Gress’ betrayal, I arrived at the range with my head held high. Maybe I’d had it right the first time, when I despised him for extorting rent from us; there wasn’t any more thought I needed to devote to him. This was my opportunity to fight for humanity, and atone for the people who’d been hurt because of my mistakes in the past. Regardless of what they had meant to me, no individual was going to stand between me and my mission.