Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: May 14, 2160
It had been one thing to practice at the range with Cherise, and another to have a helmet providing real time trajectory estimates and corrections. The augmented reality feed could detect my inaccuracy patterns, providing an analysis on what to adjust. Quana proved able to handle a weapon, firing almost every shot into the center ring of the hexagonal targets—which were shaped a bit like Krev scales. General Radai watched with interest, correcting the techniques of any humans who couldn’t take the hints from their helmet. Where the Resket truly went ballistic was with trigger discipline, and keeping weapons pointed down range.
One Terran turned her gun toward Radai as he addressed her. In a matter of seconds, the towering pink bird twisted her wrist to disarm her, and jabbed the gun against the side of her helmet to make a point. He’d shrieked that she was doing the same thing to her squad, by pointing a loaded weapon at friendlies. It appeared that our headgear had built-in ear protection, judging by how it muted bullet noises; Quana suggested that it was to protect against sonic weapons or long-term ear damage. Still, the Resket’s voice was as loud as a tornado siren, so I imagined that the new enlistee wasn’t enjoying the audio assault. Aliens being aggressive and getting in our faces was novel.
Radai’s only comment was that I was too slow reloading my weapon. That’s not the worst critique I could’ve received, though Cherise certainly makes it look much simpler.
The Resket ordered us to return our firearms to the artillery cart, remarking that it was time to progress to the grenade range. We needed to become familiar with a wide array of weapons—especially close quarters ones, since Reskets were most likely sidelined for those deployments. Their nine-foot-tall stature didn’t make them a good fit for tight spaces, so other races needed to be qualified to function in those scenarios alone. From what I’d seen in the Federation, it was surprising that the Consortium crafted handheld explosives; an incendiary device that could riddle the enemy with shrapnel was supposedly a vicious, human-only invention. I was intrigued to know if the Krev had added some crazy tech to our version—maybe we could explode them with our minds.
“Alright, listen up! This is your crash course on how to utilize grenades in the field or in a tight hallway. Your helmets come equipped with anti-flashbang tech—so count your fucking blessings there,” Radai barked. “Back when I was trained, we had to get flashbanged to see what it was like and keep fighting. You have a much easier task. We’ll still be using these nonlethal weapons for the purpose of our training today. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” came the confident response.
“If you’re fighting around a corner, you want to roll it down the hallway with gusto. Otherwise, for further distances, we have grenade launchers right here to guide them…”
“They probably developed anti-flashbang tech for your helmets because of us,” Quana whispered to me. “We’d throw them when we ambushed them in the snow. They were already blind, between the envirosuits and constant blizzards. Our white fur already might’ve been invisible.”
I shrugged. “You talk like you were there.”
“My relatives were. They passed on their stories to me.”
“How the fuck did they get captured?”
Radai scowled. “Taylor Trench! I thought you came here to join the military. It seems you’re more interested in trading gossip.”
“Ooh, now you’re in trouble,” Cherise snickered.
I straightened, embarrassed to be called out. “No, sir. I didn’t mean to be disruptive.”
“Well, it’s too fucking late for that.” Radai stalked closer, angling his beak toward the top of my skull. “Tell us what you were talking about. We’re all waiting.”
“It really wasn’t anything important.” I can’t tell him that we were reminiscing on the Reskets’ great embarrassment. It’ll be bad news for Quana. “Just about how we don’t have anti-flashbang helmets on Earth. And that I’m glad we, uh, don’t have to take one to the face like you did…sir.”
“I should fucking make you get on the ground and take one. Maybe Mafani was right about you not needing a helmet.”
“Sir, this will not happen again! I did not mean to disrespect you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Did you hear any of what I said?”
“Roll grenades in hallways. Grenade launchers in open spots, and uh, yeah.”
“Good. You just volunteered yourself to go first. I didn’t think you heard any of my instructions on how to load the weapon—so figure it the fuck out on your own. Stand at the red line, and put a fucking grenade on the nearest burlap sack over the wall. Go on.”
Radai maneuvered behind me, shoving me forward before I could respond to his instructions. I swallowed, as I picked up a grenade launcher that I had no idea how to use. My fingers curled around a flashbang shell, and I stared down range at the puffy sacks Radai had mentioned. My feed displayed the distance to the target as 20 meters away; there were stacks much further down the range that would actually require the launcher, though the Resket general was easing us into the training with a closer target. Was this a test to see if I would fall back into using tools as a crutch? The avian looked amused as I reared back—like he thought I was throwing in the towel—but his expression morphed into shock as the grenade left my grip.
I watched my throw arc through the air, landing directly atop the aforementioned target. Radai’s beak was parted with disbelief; his neck bent forward like he wanted to be sure he’d seen the past scene correctly. I was confused about what was so remarkable; shit, would he view this as further defiance, since he’d clearly intended for me to use the launcher? I thought I was taking initiative, using a more efficient delivery method. My head swiveled back toward Quana with nervousness; the Jaslip’s binocular eyes had gone wide with awe. Every alien in our training group appeared stunned by my most recent action.
“Taylor. Was that dumb luck, or did you really throw that with that much power and precision…first try too?” Radai asked.
I pressed a palm to the back of my helmet. “It wasn’t that impressive. The throw wasn’t, uh, that far, sir.”
“We saw your sports, like baseball and whatnot, but frankly, we lumped that in with your other staged entertainment. Like your ‘superhero’ movies. We thought it’d be physically impossible for any species to be a natural at projectile physics.”
“I don’t know what to say, other than please, don’t start calling us scary predators or some shit?”
“Trench, that’s the first time today that I’ve been impressed with humans. Fuck it, you’re all going to be grenadiers,” Radai chuckled. “I need to notify the other Trainers, and rework the grenade regimen to fit your natural abilities. We’ll put our crowns together and think of ways to use this. Unit, you’re dismissed.”
Cherise and Quana walked up to meet me, as I turned away from the Resket. He’d dropped his ire toward my chattiness after my throwing demonstration. Radai didn’t take any shit, but he seemed fair enough; the way he cemented his authority was forceful and sometimes violent, but not mean-spirited. He hadn’t seemed to target my Jaslip friend, unlike our previous trainer. With Mafani ordered to stay away from us, I hoped that was the last we’d seen of the racist avian. I slunk off to rejoin my group, but stiffened as the general piped up.
“Taylor Trench and friends. Stay behind one moment,” Radai called after us.
Fuck, is he going to put me on latrine duty? I deserve it, but damn it, I don’t want to be cleaning up alien shit.
I turned on my heel, removing my helmet so he could see my regretful expression. “I apologize again for the disruption, General Radai.”
“Sir, it was my fault,” Quana chimed in, surprising me. I would’ve never snitched on her involvement, especially since Reskets might be looking for any excuse to single out a Jaslip. “I made a comment to him about why I thought anti-flashbangs might have been invented.”
“I’m aware, but thank you for doing the honorable thing, Quana,” Radai sighed. “I let it slide only because Mafani had been antagonizing you. I’d prefer we didn’t rehash a thirty-year-old skirmish, especially when there’s talk about going after our real enemy.”
“After what they did to Earth, I’d love for us to take those fuckers down. I’m here to do right by the humans. In my opinion, it’s time we stopped hiding, and stopped accepting that good people have to die to them.”
Cherise cracked her knuckles. “Much like Quana, I’d love a chance to make the Krakotl and all their pals pay. How well your army functions compared to theirs: night and day. Add in your tech, and I think we could take ‘em.”
“I do too, for what it’s worth. Your information shines a new light on the threat. It could be the catalyst we need to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we can win; that the shame of our cowardice is no longer a necessity,” the Resket commented.
“Going after the Feds? Fuck yeah! I’m totally in,” I cheered. “Oops. Too much? Sorry again, sir.”
Radai narrowed his large eyes. “You need to learn discipline, Trench. You do not come from a military background, but your inattention could cost lives in the field. That said, I didn’t keep you to punish you for your outburst—though if you don’t pull it together, you’ll wish Mafani was still here.”
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“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think I’ll ever wish Mafani was still here. I’m all ears for why you wished to speak with me.”
“Very well. It’s about your friend from the Avor visit, Gress. The famous negotiator. The Ulchid teaching his comms course messaged me that he never showed up to her class. It’s unlike him or his reputation. I was wondering if you had a better idea where he was?”
“That Krev?” Quana pinned her ears back with distaste; her hackle fur was up. “We don’t know, and we don’t care. Sir.”
“We saw him back at the hab module. He was on the base at some point,” Cherise volunteered. “Perhaps it’d be worth looking there.”
Radai shot a glare at Quana, before turning to my human ally. “Do that. Assuming Gress is alright, tell him to report to his superiors for disciplinary action.”
“I don’t want to deal—” I began.
Cherise stepped on my foot, breaking off my sentence. “Yes, sir. We’re on it.”
“Good. Whatever is going on between you, your personal issues will not take precedence over your duty again. Dismissed,” the Resket hissed.
I stormed off, stomping through the grass as soon as we’d ducked out of Radai’s line of vision. After how deeply Gress had hurt me, Cherise had no right to volunteer me to search for him; I wouldn’t interact with the Krev who’d strung me along as my exchange partner, lying about kids dying and genocide to save face. Quana bared her fangs at the female human, a clear indication that she also had no intention of tracking down the “kit killer.” The Jaslip was a better friend than Gress had ever been, just by admitting her wrongdoing to Radai, instead of letting me take the fall. She didn’t hide from her past or her actions.
If Gress thinks I’d choose him in an ultimatum between him and Quana, he’s nuts. I want nothing to do with that lying bastard.
Cherise crossed her arms, blocking my path. “Taylor, he was your friend for months. For your own sake—if only for closure—you owe it to yourself to find and confront him. I’m not doubting Quana’s story, but I never saw Gress as someone so impervious to life.”
“Maybe he feels bad about it now. Maybe his superiors pressured him to save the delegates. Does it matter?” I sulked. “I don’t want to hear excuses: not now, when he didn’t have the balls to be honest with me! After all that talk about me leveling with him.”
“You should never cut someone off without hearing what they have to say for themselves. You two talked daily for months; that has to count for something. I’d never seen Gress act like that before.”
“Neither had I. I thought he was my friend. Now, good people like Quana will associate me with that monster!”
“I don’t,” the Jaslip offered. “Not after you helped me with Mafani. It might be cathartic for you to confront Gress, and call him out for the monster he is. I guess you should try to find him, to cut those ties once and for all. So that Radai won’t ask you about him in the future.”
“It would be nice if I wasn’t forced to interact with him anymore. Someone has to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s not my bunkmate anymore. I want answers…to call him on the carpet! How could he be such a rotten liar?”
Cherise patted me on the back. “Go on then. Try looking near the hab module; he has that obor shrieking ringtone for you. It’d be hard to miss if you try to call him.”
“Hmph. I guess I’m just an oversized obor to him. A pet. I’ll show him what I think of his false friendship. I’ll show him!”
I shoved my helmet into Quana’s threefold tail, and the Jaslip heaved a sigh—reluctant agreement to return it to my bunk. With righteous fury causing my fists to clench, I tore off down the pathway; I almost barreled over one human soldier, who shot me a nasty look. My glower must’ve caused him to back down, since I felt positively deranged on the hunt for Gress. There was a single person that I wanted to direct my wounded feelings toward. Had he even cared about how I would feel at all? Why had he zeroed in on me, out of every human on Tellus? Because I was in a vulnerable state? Perhaps this was all long-term revenge for clubbing him over the skull.
To think I liked him, and bought that young, easily flustered, kind-hearted dad act. To think I believed he had a conscience, or could be trusted to watch out for humanity’s best interests.
I jabbed his name in my call history, as my pupils jerked around the vacant space behind the hab module. Sure enough, I heard obor shrieks in the distance—by a thick set of hedges off the beaten path. Gress didn’t pick up my call, but I wasn’t letting that jackass send me to voicemail; by God, I was going to say my piece to him. I vaulted over the bushes with triumphant wrath, and faltered in my anger as I heard the softer sounds. The Krev was curled up into a ball, looking like a green, spherical pine cone. I could hear snot bubbling in his nostrils, along with pathetic sobs emanating from his chest.
In spite of myself, I felt sorry for him. It was difficult to unload my anger on someone who looked so broken.
“Gress,” I whispered, internally cursing myself for my sympathy. “It’s me. Taylor. Come out of the ball…please. We need to talk.”
The Krev uncoiled slightly, pointing a disoriented gaze at me. “I’m sorry, Taylor. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything. I saw her, I saw you with her, and she wouldn’t stop accusing me of all those awful things…”
“Pfft. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t let children die? Because I feel like that’s something I should’ve known.”
“How the fuck can you think I would do that? HOW?”
I flinched away from his raised voice. “Quana said it like it’s common knowledge. You said nothing to defend yourself.”
“Because I can’t! I can’t, Taylor, I just can’t. I’ve been trying to pull my life together, but that day follows me everywhere. You know what it’s like to see something whenever you close your eyes. I watch you flinch each time you see a miner’s helmet or hear anything that sounds like drilling.”
I snapped my head back even further, gritting my teeth. “Don’t you fucking mention that accident; use that against me! I’m trying to make up for it.”
“And I’m trying to wake up from a nightmare that never ends. I’m just in a good enough spot mentally to be able to tell you that those kids dying wasn’t my fault. Do you want to know what happened? Or have you already condemned me like I meant nothing to you?!”
“You were the closest person in my life since the day I took that mask off, but you let me down. I know how many ‘stragglers’ stayed on Esquo. You didn’t tell me!”
The Krev sighed. “You’re right. It was awful, and I never said it was okay. It really didn’t make a difference whether it was a hundred Jaslips or a billion. Murder is murder. They have a point, regardless of whether it had to be done.”
“You downplayed it, Gress. Don’t you fucking lie.”
“I didn’t want you to be afraid of us, after what happened to Earth. You’re completely right. My word choice misled you on the scale, and I can’t imagine how you feel, when you have trust issues with aliens to start with. I’m sorry.”
“What do you expect me to do with a months-late apology? You had every opportunity to come clean, or open up at all about yourself.”
“Let me tell you now what really fucking happened. You can choose to forgive me or not, but I don’t want you thinking I’d sacrifice children.”
“Whatever. I can’t wait to hear this festival of excuses.”
The Krev drew a shuddering breath, trying to give the impression that he was struggling to continue. My impatience simmered, though I held back any scathing remarks. This attempt to manipulate me through empathy wasn’t going to work. There was no way that Gress and Quana could have such disparate stories about the same event; the Jaslip had no reason to lie, while this guy had every reason to. Tears streamed down his scaly face, and he stared into the binocular eyes that I’d hidden from him for years. I wished I had my helmet to obscure them again, so he couldn’t see that I still felt for him.
“Look, Taylor, they nabbed five important individuals at a convention center. Holed up there for days,” Gress sniffled. “I knew there were kids in there, but I thought that was the parents bringing them along as some fucked up way to drag them into this hostage mess. Those Esquo’s Fighters radicals, that’s how they raise their children.”
I scowled at him. “How is that the kids’ fault? You—”
“Let me finish! It’s sad, but it’s not their fault. At any rate, listen, we thought they were roped in, because why the fuck would you think that parents would blow their own children’s brains out? I didn’t know what they were intending, and that’s how they set us up; the Avorian police force walked right into that propaganda victory. The Jaslips told us exactly who they had held hostage, and days later, they call me to request five hostages to leave by name. You know what I said?”
“No. This isn’t going anywhere. How could Quana blame you for what was done so blatantly, and I should believe you didn’t know?”
“Because the Jaslips filmed it all, and lined the kids up to look like the call to me was video streamed. It wasn’t. I couldn’t see that they had their own offspring mewling, crying through a gag, and with guns pointed at them. When they asked for five hostages to let go, I was exhausted—I didn’t know what to think, if it was a test or something, but I didn’t want to give them time to change their mind. I asked for all five, thanked them for doing the right thing. Out come the aristocrats; we saved the day. Time to go in and round up the criminals, right?”
I was quiet for a long moment. “You’re saying they staged it to look like you chose to let the kids die?”
“It makes for good propaganda. They wanted them and their children to be martyrs, and because I didn’t catch on, it worked.” The Krev’s claws twitched, as his voice was choked up with grief. “That…t-that’s when we heard gunshots. I’ll never forget it. My supervisor tells me not to go in there, but I just have this sinking feeling in my chest—and I know why, once I hear more gunshots than there are adults. The hostage takers have killed the kids and then themselves.”
“My God. That’s…awful.” My mind was reeling, but his despondent tone had the ring of sincerity; I could see the haunted, vacant look in his pupils, just like when I slipped back to Kabir’s death. “When you said you can’t talk about it, you mean…”
“I mean that I don’t want to, because it drives me mad. It hurts. The worst part is, when I get in there, one kit is still alive. Shot in the throat; fluffy white fur just oozing violet blood. I have some medical training—everyone on the hostage negotiator team does. I stick my claws into the little guy’s throat, and try to pinch the artery shut while we wait for paramedics. I try to push the blood back inside while his breaths get weaker, but there is so much.”
Not knowing what I could possibly say, I pressed a hand against his shoulder to comfort him.
“How could anyone do that to their own child—and for what? To make me look like…like a monster? I just…I would try anything to save him! But the fragile thing dies right as the medics arrive, with my claws in his throat. I feel the way the pulse stops beating against my claws, as the blood keeps coating them—I can see the way the medics look at me when I pull them out, and hold them in front of my face. All the dead bodies around me…wondering if I could’ve stopped it,” Gress spewed.
My eyebrows slanted downward. “That’s not fair to yourself. What I did was reckless, endangering people. You didn’t know what these extremists were going to do; I can see it now.”
“Of course not. I had nightmares about it all, became this irritable mess that everyone had to steer clear of. I couldn’t predict what I’d react poorly to. When I began to lash out at Lecca, my light, just because she was a child…I was a danger to her. My wife was right to leave me. The Jaslips say I’m a monster…the Krev think I’m a hero…you can decide what you believe, Taylor.”
“I believe you did the best you could. That’s more than I can say for myself. You needed help, not abandonment. I, of anyone, get PTSD, and if Quana triggers it, I understand. I shouldn’t have blamed you for how you reacted; I won’t cut her off, but you don’t have to interact with her.”
Gress snorted. “I can’t crumple every time I see a Jaslip from that enclave. I doubt Quana would tolerate me; she won’t care about the truth.”
“We can tell her what really happened. Either way…I’m here for you. I’m going to be a better friend, and…like you told me when I took off my mask, I’m glad you opened up to me.”
His eyes perked up for a moment. “Hug?”
“Just this once. Don’t get used to it.”
I winced as the Krev threw his arms around me, applying pressure right where Mafani had kicked me. Knowing his side of the story, everything about his life crumbling was all the more tragic in hindsight; Gress was tormented because of Jaslips who’d orchestrated the murder of their kids to look like it was his choice. For what it was worth, I thought good people like Quana needed to hear the truth. My best friend deserved better than that slander; he’d suffered more than enough already.