Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison
Date [standardized human time]: May 14, 2160
Much like Dustin foretold in his introduction speech, it was odd how swiftly the madness of first contact became normalcy to the Bissem public.
The war raging on Ivrana left Lassmin untouched, even as thousands fell amid naval clashes and shoreline battles—several cities had been devastated by collateral damage. Our diplomatic efforts were spread thin between trying to broker peace between nations, and establishing channels with the aliens. The task of interacting with various SC factions fell to Naltor, Zalk, and I, as we monitored the state of interstellar affairs alongside Dustin and Haliska. The sluggish progress on their investigation of the ghost exterminators was excruciating, though it was understandable why it was a challenge. Even after calling in thousands of specialists to work the case from various angles, it was a hundred years ago…and the humans had to search nearly three hundred entities with multiple planets that were a part of the Federation. It was a fish scale in the ocean.
Dustin mentioned that the most promising angle was the forensic accountants called in. Someone couldn’t build a spaceship (or possibly multiple ships) without significant financial backing and certain types of resources. Perhaps greasing some flippers just to get off the ground unauthorized.
As humanity continued to work the mystery, the first contact team spread the word of the Starlight Incident; the hope was that the Yotul would see that it was too late to avoid tampering with Ivrana. The Tseia’s tech level spoke for itself. Dustin was leading with the message that it was the SC’s duty to repair the damage that had been done, and provide answers due to the loss of life. I remembered how hostile the guard at the Technocracy’s embassy had been, and wasn’t convinced of my friend’s claim that they thought they were helping us. Regardless, I was keen on turning our most formidable opposition—especially after our present in-fighting gave them ammunition against us. If there was ever a time Bissems should’ve been united, it was now, and yet we’d failed.
After weeks of searching for a receptive audience on Leirn, Dustin had gotten in the ear of the most human-friendly Yotul on their Intelligence Panel. This mystery marsupial had extended an invitation for the three Bissems from the disclosure broadcast to join him, though he made it explicit that he wanted us to come alone—without Terran or Thafki backup. Naltor had been hesitant to visit Earth’s upstart neighbor, but the first contact party was adamant that the Yotul wouldn’t harm us. This might be our best chance to sow a rift in the Technocracy, rather than having the entire species wield unified opposition against us. I was willing to fly off to a world that was vocally against our inclusion, because I wanted these marsupials to be our friends…or at least tolerate us. We didn’t need enemies.
The little we’d been told about this politician painted a confusing picture. On one flipper, he was a carefree islander that enjoyed riding waves on pristine beaches—he’d share our love of the water, and he also still regularly took to the seas with a human friend. This Yotul had been a major part of environmental research to counteract the Federation’s damage, expressing a great love for his planet and its fauna. His contributions to that project, and unashamed representation of Rinsa’s culture, were key to his popularity. On the other flipper, he was involved with ship engineering because of his brilliant mind, yet had served a stint in the armed forces as a lowly comms technician. The war had driven him to be rather paranoid, and his role on the Intelligence Panel was to provide oversight of their cyberwarfare division. I hoped we could appeal to his better nature.
“It was one thing to accept the humans’ offer of friendship.” Zalk had been grumbling the entire ride over, distracting me from the local scenery. I’d caught a glimpse of an immaculate harbor, replete with towering beachside hotels, medieval re-enactments, and the largest boats I’d seen in my life. “This species looks down on us and thinks we don’t belong! They’re enemies of Ivrana, plain and simple. This is martyrdom as much as what Dustin was trying to do.”
I parted my beak. “Then why did you come, Zalk? It’s not the same; the Yotul are unpleasant, but never threatened to kill us.”
“They’re rallying the anti-carnivores. Isn’t that the same? For the record, I didn’t want to come, but the Tseia don’t want to be excluded from whatever Lassmin tried to get us into next.”
“Nulia told us the Yotul were bullied, and now they’re paranoid, Zalk. I figured you’d hit it off with the Tseia, with your own delusions about outsiders.” Naltor helped me out of the car, as it rolled to a halt next to a quaint beach shack; long, oval-shaped boards were propped up against the walls. While it was a pristine location, it didn’t look like the well-to-do abode I’d expect for a top politician. “They think Bissems never should’ve been contacted. That ship has sailed.”
“I appreciate a good sailing metaphor,” a voice said from the porch. “The Yotul government couldn’t give a shit what you eat. We were the first to open diplomacy with the Arxur. We’re using their bigotry for practical reasons; so that they’ll vote with us.”
I swiveled around, eyeing the Yotul lurking in a rocking chair. “You must be Onso.”
“And you’re Dr. Tassi. Please, sit with me. It’s a beautiful day.”
I ambled up the stairs to the porch, getting a look at the Yotul obscured by the corner. His fur was a deep red, aside from the silver creeping into his muzzle’s coloration. Onso’s body was impressively-toned for someone who was getting up there in age, a result of staying active and outdoorsy for decades. There was a shrewdness in his eyes as he studied me in his periphery, while pretending to fixate solely on the mossy green sands and crashing waves. There was a single rocking chair, as well as a bench swing meant to fit two. Thinking it would be amusing to force Zalk and Naltor to settle side-by-side, I took the solo seat. The Selmer shot me a disdainful look, as I feigned ignorance.
At least this will make Zalk and Naltor direct their dislike at each other, not this Yotul. Maybe Onso will be able to give us an ally inside the Technocracy government, and argue to his peers for us. We should see why he asked us here.
The Yotul politician took a sip of a dark brown drink, ears perking up. “It’s called ‘cold brew.’ I’d offer you some, but apparently, caffeine is literal poison to you. What I can offer you is a chance to admire the gorgeous view.”
“I’ve spent my life in a small lighthouse tower overlooking the ocean. Didn’t work my way up the Coast Guard by not camping by the seas, day and night,” Zalk grunted. “At home, the water’s orange and the sands are gray, but a beach is just a beach; it can’t compare to actually being out on a boat. Simple shores to protect, that’s all.”
“You might be the most unimpressed person I’ve heard, for their first visit to alien shores. I was under the belief that Bissems loved the water and everything about it. This beach isn’t just a beach, though. It’s where I sailed with my mother, back before the Federation set out on a mission to exterminate sailboats. Before they took everything that made us happy—that made us Yotul.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I demanded. “I know the Federation exterminated predators but…”
“What the fuck do sailboats have to do with that?” Naltor finished. “Were they meat-eating sailboats?”
Onso issued a bitter laugh. “To my knowledge, no. It was about taking what was ours and destroying it—replacing it with their ‘better’ tech, since it’s not like we had a prayer to Ralchi of resisting. If we build nothing ourselves, we’re dependent on them.”
“The imperialist fucks in the Federation wanted to control you.”
“And they believed that they were superior to medieval primitives like us. I…want to tell you about our uplifting: something from a mere 46 years ago. I brought you here to explain why the Yotul are so closed off to the idea of doing that with you. Consider it a cautionary tale.”
The familiar sensation of my heart sinking played out within my chest. “You went from a medieval era straight to…”
“Yes. You can imagine how that might’ve played out from your own history. You were advanced enough to grasp the idea of alien intelligence in common culture, whereas our astronomers barely grasped the heavens enough to even toss out the idea. We had no comparable tech to the Feddies, aside from a few steam trains—simplistic vehicles.”
“Kind of like my people acquiring a spaceship before inventing computers or space rockets of our own. The technology was like magic,” Zalk noted.
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. The humans say something like that. So when the Federation showed up, promising they could do things that were impossible…they were welcomed. Then, they began their rampage of destruction, and we had to watch. Their exterminators started by burning the animals.”
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Naltor’s eyes reflected a troubled light. “You said that’s what they started with. What else did they burn, Onso? They progressed to boats?”
“And many other things. Fuck, the animal part alone has been something I’ve worked decades trying to salvage! There’s a reason we devoted an entire colony as an animal reserve. The cultural losses are something you can’t just bring back. They torched anything outdated. Trains, scribe houses, fire brigades. And once they modernized our identity, you know what they did next?”
“Tried to convince you of their ‘predators are scary even though we have guns’ lunacy?”
Onso snickered. “Yes, they did do that—started conditioning the next generation, but that’s not the punchline. The worst part was that anyone who fought back or showed a spark of defiance, they’d pump you full of meds that turned you into a walking husk that couldn’t speak up. I’d know. I lived unable to even feel anger from their pills for years. Do you know what the anger toward them felt like, when I came off of that?”
“Maddening. You had to want blood,” Zalk hissed, a sadistic glint flashing in his eyes, suggesting his revenge fantasies against the aliens who hurt the Tseia. “You wanted them to pay for what they did.”
“Of course. We also have a mandate to ensure that other species, like yours, don’t endure the horror that we did. The Federation mocked us, spit in our faces, and demeaned us as stupid primitives, just because we evolved a little behind them. You don’t want to be involved with species that look down on you.”
The three of us were silent, absorbing Onso’s explanation. As disastrous as our first contact had been, I could understand how the Yotul’s had been ten times worse. The Federation had come to belittle, convert, and control the natives; it would’ve been like if aliens contacted us back during our colonial wars, when the Vritala were a fiefdom and their rivals, the Selmer, were dominated by priests and royalty. We wouldn’t have the means to relate to aliens, if we’d had no prior concepts of every technology they possessed. I saw what Dustin meant about the Technocracy believing they were doing us a favor, though I thought it was a misguided notion. The Coalition was nothing like their predecessors, and was open about trying to be responsible with their role since their initial address.
The circumstances necessitated their invention, even though Dustin admitted neither Ivrana nor his side were ready. Ivrana is in a precarious position, where our entire biosphere could collapse—by our own doing, not by invading exterminators.
“I’m sorry that the Federation tried to brainwash you, and destroy your home. I respect that you don’t want us to go through that. With that said, I don’t think the Coalition is giving us all their tech at once or erasing our achievements,” I offered. “It’s different because they’re giving us control and choices. They reached out as equals, not to assert their superiority. They also accelerated the timeline because of an imminent crisis.”
“I know the Sapient Coalition is different. The fact is, there’s an inherent power disparity between Bissems and the visitors. You might not tell them to fuck off because you’re afraid of what they could do.” Onso’s ears pinned back against his head, before he angled his snout toward Zalk. “And either way, the Tseia are a prime example of how outside influence can alter an entire culture and its direction. Their innovations have been shelved for whatever alien tech lay in the wreckage—another example of the Federation’s carelessness. What will be left of Bissem creations when the SC gets done with you?”
Naltor bore a contemplative expression. “There’s a lot of benefits that can come from alien technology. Lives that can be improved or saved; that’s a choice the Yotul want to take from us. You look down on us by thinking we’re not ready to join the wider galaxy, because we evolved a little later.”
“I have intended to help you, ever since I learned about the Starlight Incident. I’m giving you these facts as a warning…to hold on to yourselves. You will have to live with the knowledge that you did not earn your place in the galaxy, or claw your way for every pawhold up the tech tree. The world you inhabit will never again be truly yours.”
“Why would you want to help us get into the Coalition?” Suspicion gleamed in Zalk’s eyes, mistrustful of an outsider’s aid. “I don’t see what you have to gain. The Yotul were happy to use my people’s protests to squash our bid in its hatching stage. Why wouldn’t you use the war now?”
“Because I want you to do something for me when you get entrenched. I want you to lobby for the Arxur’s isolation to be lifted.”
“What? The people-eating carnivores that everyone lumps us in with?” Naltor squawked. “Fuck no! C’mon, Tassi, let’s go.”
I fought down the sick taste in my beak, standing. “I agree. We want nothing to do with…them. I know what they’ve done to the Thafki, and I wouldn’t betray Haliska like that.”
“Just hear out their story. I don’t know how much you’ve been told, but the Arxur didn’t become monsters overnight! The Federation played a part in starving them…and collaborated with their sinister government to suit their narrative. You should hear it from their lips.”
“I’ll pass. I like my throat without cannibal bite marks in it,” Naltor deadpanned.
“As do I; it’s not like they’d be a danger to you. We have an embassy on their planet, so I think we can speak to the fact that they’re reforming. They have very few allies, so they’d be loyal unconditionally if you help them. When the Arxur heard that another obligate carnivore was discovered, they clamored to meet you! Their leader traveled for weeks to be here, and he’s waiting inside. Please, hear his story. The full context can’t hurt you.”
“There’s an Arxur here?!” I gasped, scurrying over to Naltor for protection.
Zalk rose from the bench, eager to distance himself from the Yotul. “This is a trick. You brought us here under false pretenses, so that you can sabotage Tassi’s efforts by saying she met with an Arxur. I see what you’re doing—making us look like we agree with their heinous acts.”
“If I wanted to do that, I could’ve just rushed Kaisal out here and photographed you with him. Bissem meeting with the Arxur. Done,” Onso grumbled.
“So this is what: some long-term play for those cannibals to get loose? How do you think we could even lobby for the Arxur to be freed?” I asked. “We aren’t being welcomed into the Coalition with open flippers.”
“No, but I can change that. If you want my help, you need to at least have a sit-down with Kaisal. Let him explain the damage the Federation did, and how the Arxur Collective is working to undo Betterment’s legacy. I won’t force you to do anything more.”
Frustration was evident on Naltor’s features, and I’m sure it was plastered across mine. We didn’t have much of a choice; with the war blemishing our optics even further, a change of heart from an influential entity such as the Technocracy was the only way. This individual was high-ranking enough that he might be able to sway some votes, but I didn’t like the idea of sitting across from sadistic monsters. I supposed the silver lining was that if the Yotul would buddy up to a species with as dark of a past as the Arxur, they were definitely not anti-carnivores. All I could think about in my mind was how they’d see Haliska and her entire species as food, and how they dusted Nulia’s homeworld in brutal fashion.
Zalk seemed to pick up on our resolve waning, though he fixed Onso with a piercing stare. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you gain from this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Right now, only diplomatic ships are allowed in and out of Wriss’ little bubble. The untapped trade market—exclusivity over an entire planet’s manufacturing power and resources. We’ll get in on the ground. Pop some shipyards down there, set up Yotul bases: expand our influence and our strength,” the Rinsian politician replied, seeming proud of himself.
“Is that really it?”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt that it’s a ‘fuck you’ to the Federation. There’s still a hundred-odd species that were real buddy-buddy with them, and have a continued existence under that moniker…even after all that they did. The remnants will flip out if we release the Arxur before the Farsul and the Kolshians! Ah, that’d make my decade.”
“You had me at sending a ‘fuck you’ to the Federation.”
“Same, wanderbird,” Naltor chirped.
“Also same. I don’t consider myself a hateful person, but I hate everything I hear about the Federation,” I added. “I cringe every time their name is brought up. I can’t believe anyone would want their circus to keep going.”
Onso chuckled. “I like you Bissems. Spiteful—birds after my own heart. I’ll go tell Kaisal to come on out. Don’t want to draw attention to the fact he’s here; Arxur Collective visitors aren’t technically supposed to go outside embassies or diplomatic vehicles.”
“Then why…” Zalk began.
“Less eyes on us, and a view to kill for; your thoughts on beaches are just wrong, Tseia. Objectively wrong. Now, I’ll be right back with a certain reptile. Stay put.”
The spry Yotul leapt to his feet, scampering into the house to retrieve this Arxur leader, before we could change our minds. I still wasn’t sure about agreeing to this, but as long as we weren’t in imminent danger, I could play along for a single conversation. It was better to have those deranged cannibals viewing us as allies rather than enemies, if they were ever loosed on the galaxy again. Whatever the Federation had done to Wriss, it didn’t excuse the diabolical rampage that they’d gone on against herbivorous sapients. I could get why Dustin hadn’t wanted to paint them in any sympathetic light, especially after being raised by Venlil, and becoming close to Haliska and Nulia. There couldn’t have been enough changes in a few decades when the very creature I’d be speaking to had likely partaken in that unspeakable cruelty.
If these Arxur thought Bissems were anything like them, just because we were the second obligate carnivores to reach the stars, they would be in for a rude awakening. These weren’t the kind of aliens I’d spent my life looking for, or that I would do anything to befriend in the present.