Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison
Date [standardized human time]: August 11, 2160
My heart was heavy as I reached Sapient Coalition command, with the Sivkits safely at Ivrana. The frostiness from Haliska had simmered a bit, though I felt less-than-enthusiastic with the prospect of betraying General Naltor ahead of me. That smartass Selmer had endeared himself to me, and tried to take care of me as the first contact situation spiraled out of control. While I had wounded my Thafki and Gojid friends, was turning on another friend going to improve things at all—even if it was to keep Bissems connected to the galaxy? We couldn’t afford the might of the Sapient Coalition bearing down on us, and I believed Naltor would agree if he had the full context. He understood how much was at stake, and how vulnerable we were; gathering allies was all that mattered. Still, I wanted to talk to someone, and it wouldn’t be Haliska or Nulia. They’d shown little sympathy for my predicament, evidently.
Dustin might’ve hated the Arxur and lied to me to begin with, but there was a reason he wasn’t brought with Jones’ entourage. Maybe I can confide in him. Someone has to help me, and I don’t know who else to speak with. I can’t involve other Bissems.
Somehow, finding out how the Sivkits learned about Tinsas seemed the easiest task, of the three factions I was supposed to cross. Loxsel had given me tons of reading homework, with alien texts that gave me a boatload of information to dissect; combing through page-turners was a welcome distraction. Not all of them were even from the verbose playwright’s species, and I found myself eager for Bissem literary critics to analyze them. Many plots were surprisingly relatable, such as a Takkan book about venturing to far-off worlds in the Diaspora, or a Dossur tale about the Federation descending from the heavens. I remember experiencing both of those things for the first time, and the awe I once felt. It would take a lot of effort to hold onto that feeling.
“So Tassi, forthwith, you shall offer a rejoinder to my queries! Why did the Sivkit author give a green tail ribbon to a puissant character like Nacfrin, who leads the Grand Herd in the peregrination of the galaxy?” a disenchanted Loxsel sighed.
I parted my beak in thought, trying to decide what type of answer would be eloquent enough to appease the Sivkit. “Perhaps there was some ancestral memory of how the sky was emerald green on Tinsas, so the author’s choice of color reflects adventuring upward and beyond one’s world. Nacfrin wants to be out of reach, but his own self has become unreachable, like the sky; the ribbon serves as a reminder throughout his time on the stage. It signals that he, and the Herd, are lost in the stars, no matter how strong-willed a character is.”
“No, that’s absurd, you esurient piscivore! Prithee, could you actually try?”
“I am trying. What did I say that’s wrong about the…ribbon?”
“Tassi, you are a dimwitted picaroon. It is a mere bijou, but you pick the most otiose interpretations. Sometimes, a color is just a color! Words are just words! There is no grander meaning to extract, circumjacent to what’s in the pages! I guarantee the author had nothing in mind ere writing the color of a riband.”
I checked that I was recording the conversation, bracing myself to look up more of Loxsel’s vocabulary—a recurring theme in our sessions. “Then why did you ask me about the ribbon? I’m trying to see what you see in it.”
“I was testing you. You failed, just like those pathetic human ‘actors’ who are performing my play. They were supposed to be armipotent and sanguinolent! Ugh, that’s strong and bloodthirsty, you dull-minded bird. It’s like talking to a rock! With everyone!”
“Hang on. You got the humans on that Paltan base to act out one of your plays? That’s really…nice of them. I didn’t know how they took to your writing, but I’m happy to hear it. How did you get them involved with…that?”
“I promised not to eat garden plants anymore. Those contumelious beasts also made me promise to talk to them like people, whatever that brabble means, and to use words they could ‘understand.’ You predators are so limiting!”
I raised a flipper. “Maybe just…any word you’d use in a play, don’t use it in speech. Then people will understand you.”
“People do understand me! I understand me; am I not a person, you contumely coxcomb?”
“No, Loxsel. Of course you’re a person. I meant…that predators will understand you.” I can’t believe I’m willingly lumping my kind and the humans together in a separate classification as predators, but reasoning with Loxsel is impossible otherwise. “It’s good if the humans aren’t so…sanguinolent, right? Maybe they aren’t as eager to eat you as you thought.”
“They are in sooth boring, and hereupon, nary a human can act or smite Tinsas. Poltroons—cowards—the lot of them!”
“Why do you say that, Loxsel? They agreed to act in your play; and trust me, that took courage. Is it because they did that?”
“No, it’s because of how they did it. Look how terrible this first rehearsal was. You could’ve prepped me for sepulture after that, lackaday!”
Somehow not the first time he’s used “sepulture” in relation to himself. Is he basically saying he was on death’s door, ready to be buried, from how badly these poor soldiers performed?
“It couldn’t have been that bad,” I prodded. “They’re learning.”
The Sivkit’s ears intertwined, twisting together like cords of rope. “These dandiprats cannot act to save their lives! I don’t know how we thought they could swindle or deceive anyone. They won’t heed my diktats; they refuse to be intemperate! Look at this travesty.”
With dread in my heart for his primate victims, I turned my eyes toward the video on screen. The human who’d spoken to me, referring to Loxsel as the “funny bunny,” appeared to be playing a speaking role; he was tearing into another actor, though struggling a bit with using some of the words aloud. The opposing hominid waved a dismissive hand, before telling “Daxfrin” that he’d be in a facility soon. The man playing Daxfrin scrunched his features in rage, before arcing his arm toward his counterpart. The punch stopped just short of the other soldier’s chin, and he whipped his head back like it hit him, nursing his jaw. Loxsel came running into the frame; in the present time, the Sivkit was covering his eyes with his paws, as if he couldn’t watch.
“That wasn’t a real punch! I thought predators could handle a basic, facile attack,” Loxsel hissed at the human, fur sticking upright.
“Daxfrin” arched his eyebrows with indignation. “John sold the punch just fine. You told us in the script to act out a ‘facial attack.’”
“Yes, like this!” I gasped as Loxsel slammed his paw into the human’s jaw with surprising force, making him stagger onto the ground. The primate pawed at the blood on his chin, and stared at the Sivkit in utter disbelief. “See the contradistinction? You cannot fake that with your phony chicanery!”
“What the fuck? You actually hit me.”
“I was demonstrating how you can evince your salient bloodlust! Let the animal loose. Go on.” Loxsel turned his chin toward Daxfrin’s actor, an expectant look on his beady eyes. “Your turn. Swinge me right here, gormandizing venator!”
“I am not going to hit you. You…can’t just punch people in the face, Loxsel.”
“It appears I can. You’re so disinclined to extract a drop of blood; humans are a grave disappointment! I came hither expecting to meet a species of wrathfulness, yet you are the most docile, dull, garrulous predators I’ve ever heard of!”
“I think we’re all done here. We might be docile, but we won’t take pointless abuse from you!”
The Terrans are awfully patient, but nobody would expect them to suffer this from Loxsel. I need to convince him to stop being so…excessive, for his own good.
The Sivkit stopped the video in real time, and turned manic eyes toward me. “The inchoate scapegraces wouldn’t even try to get it right; they ruined my pulchritudinous script!”
“Hold on. These humans were willing to help you bring your play to life, and you punched them in the face for it?” I asked incredulously.
“I did nothing to the fiends that I wasn’t willing to subject myself to.”
“Were they willing to be subjected to it? I thought you’d be happier that someone is taking an interest. Maybe you should try being…nice to them, if you’re already convinced they’re ‘docile.’ You don’t have to view this like you’re being jailed or sacrificed. You could try to make friends.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Their rapprochement is not wanted, iwis not by the Grand Herd! Yield us animus, vengeance delivered through an ambuscade—appetency for conquest.”
“They won’t do that, but they do want to help you, Loxsel. After every alien has tried to screw you over, I think you should appreciate an honest ‘predator’ who just wants friends.”
There was a pause from the Sivkit. “I do. That’s why I talk to you. Mayhap I can re-evaluate the…indefatigable beasts too. Goodbye, Tassi.”
Loxsel disconnected, forcing me to decide whether to approach Dustin—a member of the very species that’d roped me into this clandestine arrangement. Who else did I have that was an alien friend? I didn’t feel especially close to the Thafki and Gojid scientists; I’d be glad when they left the ship at the docking port, and ventured off into the SC’s governance premises. Drawing a shaky breath, I exited my shuttle with pins-and-needles in my flippers; my throat was dry, and my stomach felt sick at the thought of turning on Lassmin. I hoped General Naltor wouldn’t find me before I could locate the xenobiologist, because I wasn’t sure how I’d look at the Selmer with a straight face. A curly head of hair was the first thing I saw, sitting in a chair.
I’m not sure whether to feel relief, or to feel torn about whether to confide in Dustin Curtis. What if he just makes it worse with Jones, or turns on me as well, when he learns about my involvement with the Arxur?
“Tassi!” The Terran enveloped me in a hug, grinning from ear to ear. “Sivkits on Ivrana. You succeeded at getting through to them, where we have failed for years. I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “T-thanks. Look, can we go somewhere…private? Where no one will overhear? I have to tell you something.”
“Sure. Back on the ship?”
“No. It could be…bugged, with the people that were on it. I’m intelligent enough to know they’re watching me.”
“Who…right, private venue. The cramped janitor’s closet over there?”
“Sure, Dustin. I…hope you won’t hate me.”
“Please, I could never. Something’s got you spooked; I’ve never seen you like this.” The xenobiologist squeezed into the closet, and I shut the door after I followed him. “Whatever trouble you’re in…if someone in the SC is threatening you, we can help.”
“That someone is humanity.”
The Terran blinked in the half-lighting. “What? Our mission is to save you—to ensure your success. We’ve had our shares of wars and mistakes too, and we don’t want you left out in the cold. We want predators to truly be accepted. Why would we wish to harm you? I don’t understand!”
“It’s…c-complicated. Like I said, I know you’re going to be upset and disappointed in me, and that I failed…everyone. I have nobody else to turn to. Please don’t…suggest terrible things about me, like Haliska and Nulia.”
“Hallie and Nulia were demeaning you? That’s completely unbecoming of a first contact party; we’re supposed to facilitate trust.”
Really? But you left out…later, Tassi.
I reoriented my focus, forcing myself to tell the story of how Bissems betrayed the people who helped us. “W-when we went to Leirn, the Yotul put Bissems in contact with the Arxur. They promised to get us into the SC, if we would help the grays lobby for lifting isolation a long time in the future. It seemed like the only way, so I went along with it; then the war spooked us into getting closer. The Arxur…also gave us ships, in exchange for us…talking with them. We did tell them about the Osirs, and that’s why they’re out here.”
No hurt, judgment, or betrayal flashed in the xenobiologist’s eyes; his irises swirled with concern. “Tassi, that’s not something you should be connected with. I had no idea. I understand why you did it; I mean, I’ve failed at making you feel safe, or understand what a powder keg we’re sitting on. There’s so much baggage tied to anything Arxur-sympathizing; I would know, living on Skalga and being equated to them.”
“You…understand? But you left out a lot of details about the Arxur’s story. How they saved Earth, how the Federation created them, how their rebels…”
“I wanted to protect you, Tassi, but that wasn’t fair of me…and it seems it got you into a worse clusterfuck. It wasn’t my decision to make, especially when we wanted full transparency. I just…for your own good, I believed you should have as negative of an opinion of the Arxur as possible. As carnivores, distancing yourself was the only way to win the SC. They have no intent of ever letting the grays out. And the Yotul, using you—it boils my blood! That’s no way to treat a new species with no bargaining power. They’re just like the Federation with their uplifts.”
“You’re…on my side. Thank Hirs; I don’t know what the fuck to do, but I don’t want Bissems banished like the Arxur!” A glimmer of hope flickered in my chest, seeing Dustin worked up on my behalf. Even if I did resent how he hadn’t given me all the facts, I couldn’t deny that it would’ve been better if we never got involved with the grays. “I never meant for any of this to happen, or for this to go so far. I wish to Hirs I could take it back.”
“We’ll figure something out, but I need to know what the hell is going on here. You said humanity was threatening you over this?”
“Y-yeah. That general with Terran intelligence, f-from the briefing, boarded my ship. She knew everything, Dustin, and Haliska and Nulia were with her—saying I betrayed them!”
The human’s jaw locked. “I confess, part of my omission was tiptoeing around Haliska; the Thafki hate the Arxur. But why Nulia would take part in this boggles my mind…and I’m so unspeakably disappointed in my counterparts. We spent a decade studying you, cultural sensitivity, and now, they’ve trying to manipulate you for making your own decisions? They’d hurt you personally? I fear I know where this is going…”
“Jones wants me to spy on the Arxur, the Sivkits, and Bissems, to advance humanity’s agenda. She threatened to out our meddling to SC, so we will never have friends. If I tell anyone from Lassmin, she will know, because she intends to do memory scans on me.”
“And there it is. Fucking pricks. Tassi, that general was bluffing to your face. She’s not gonna tell the SC; are you kidding me? You realize how much fire it dumps on the ‘evil predator’ train, and how much more we’ll be penciled in as an ‘exception?’ Not to mention, humanity are the ones who wanted to give you a chance! How does that make us look? I’ll tell you. Dumb and inept, or worse, predator-sympathizing. All while we’re trying to ally with the Shield, who are looking for any excuse to distrust predators.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, and reevaluated Jones’ threat against me—the one that’d all but forced me to agree to spy against the very Bissems I was loyal to. Dustin had won back my trust simply by telling me that, since I was certain Terran Intelligence hadn’t wanted me to decipher the reality; I was too trusting of what people said at face value, and it might be time to forcibly crush my naïvety. The humans didn’t want our involvement in loosing the Arxur to be out in the open. General Jones threatened the one thing I wanted above all else, because it would bend me to her will. She was hoping to control the outcome of Kaisal’s escape, and to put a leash on Naltor and Zalk’s schemes. Elevating anti-predator biases didn’t serve either of our species.
Jones played me for a fool, and Dustin saw through it in half a second. To think, I would’ve betrayed Naltor because I was being used. Is it safe to just back out, or at least, to tell my people that humanity knows about our scheme? That they went after me: a scientist?
Dustin crossed his arms, eyes steely. “Okay. I can read between the lines on the Bissem angle. What was the end goal with spying on the Arxur and Sivkits? You don’t have any direct input or inroads with them.”
“For the Arxur, I think Jones wants to push them to her own targets. She seems to believe I can influence that. As for the Sivkits, she wants to know how they found out about Tinsas. Someone or something told them.”
“Those aren’t necessarily bad goals, if I’m being honest; the Starlight Incident didn’t make me fond of the idea of unknowns in the galaxy. Do it only if it’s your wish, and it aligns with your aspirations. But Tassi? Subterfuge isn’t your style, and I won’t let you become someone else’s pawn. I’d fight for Bissems even if the rest of Earth was against me.”
“Thank you, Dustin. I wouldn’t mind finding out where Loxsel got his information, since it impacts the war. I would’ve done that if I was just asked. Kaisal…I don’t want a galactic war, but I wish I could not be involved with the Arxur at all.”
“It is a little late for Bissems to not be tied to this; however, you don’t have to be. I’m surprised Naltor would bring you into this. Your people need to know all of this…in the spirit of transparency.”
“But what about Jones? She’ll expect reports, and…what do I even do now? This is all not what I signed up for at all.”
“You just wanted alien friends. I know. She knows that too.” The human smiled with sympathy, placing my flipper between his hands. “Let me worry about Jones. I’m going to find people in the UN who never would’ve allowed this, and they’ll put her in line. For now, I suggest refusing memory transcripts—Naltor can make up a bullshit reason for you. We should tell him everything you told me. Right now.”
“T-tell Naltor. That I…agreed to betray Ivrana.”
“You said what you thought you had to. I imagine your Selmer friend will be angry at how they took a run at you…and he might be able to control what’s sent to Jones through you, if you want to flip the script. A double agent: not betraying your home, but letting her believe she has you.”
“I’m…not sure about crossing humanity, or being involved with any of these underhanded maneuvers. But I want to keep Ivrana safe. I’m loyal to Lassmin.”
“I won’t let anyone get their claws in you. I definitely intend to chew out a certain Thafki and Gojid as well. Please, Tassi, trust that humans…we’re not all like that. Most of us just want friends too.”
“I know that. We share that same enthusiasm for the galaxy, and I do believe in the SC’s mission. How you’ve improved the galaxy. For all of the bad, I want to be a part of it.”
“I’m not sure how many Bissems will agree with you after this, but I’m glad to hear some optimism. I’m happy you don’t hate me, because I’ve let you down as a friend. I put politics over doing what’s right for you as a person; I am sorry. I swear I never wanted anything more than for you to be accepted and safe. We really weren’t ready for this first contact.”
I tapped open the closet door, patting Dustin on the back. “That’s all behind us now. We’ve both made mistakes, but you’re the only alien friend I have. You did what you thought was right during first contact, just like I did with the Arxur; it happened to blow up in our faces, but neither of us sought that result. I trust you. We’ll figure this out.”
“That’s the spirit. You’re not in this alone by a long shot, and I hope you remember that. What do you say we find Naltor, and tell him how you’re the world’s worst spy, friend?”
I chuckled. “When you put it like that…lead the way.”
The Terran xenobiologist led me through the SC halls. Word of the Arxur collusion could get out through other means and jeopardize our place in the galaxy, but he’d reassured me Jones had no intent of following through with her threat. I was more than content to leave the scheming to General Naltor, and to hope he’d still trust me to be a part of the Bissems’ galactic future. While I hadn’t committed treason, I was worried how the Selmer might view me for considering it. However, with Dustin on my side, I felt like there was a hope of getting out of this with my dignity intact; he had a plan, and was going to sort out this mess. Bissems had to figure out a way to make this right, and to reckon with Terran Intelligence breathing down our neck feathers.
The last thing the galaxy needed was further complications amid the war; the drone fleets had been stalled, but they neared the three founding worlds, just as the Sivkit hypothesis for the attacks’ origin predicted. Keeping Ivrana safe and politically secure was important now more than ever.