Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist
Date [standardized human time]: March 16, 2160
The sunlight from above compounded my headache, as I tried to think of what I’d say to Gress. Each step against sandy ground felt as though there was nothing beneath my feet, and the bones holding me upright felt like nothing substantive at all. What I knew was that the Krev had never given us a break before, so this would be a singular occasion if they did demonstrate they cared about our lives at all. We didn’t deserve the hatred and callousness they showed us. I could feel the warm breath dampening the cloth near my lips, the mask hiding my scratched-up features.
I found my mind wandering during the punishing walk, thinking about how much of the opulence we’d enjoyed on Earth was gone forever. Mayor Hathaway called me out for the old Earth songs we came up with, but there weren’t exactly record labels or studios here to create new…anything. Not movies, not TV, not books, not paintings, not music. There were, perhaps, three or four musicians that’d play on the street as a hobby, but there were no full-time entertainers; everyone needed to directly contribute to the city. The biggest events of the years were the school plays, which turned out thousands for the live entertainment. I still remembered auditioning to play Hamlet, and winding up as King Claudius instead.
Half a millennium, and hundreds of stars away: the Bard’s work survives. It’s funny, because I used to wonder why they taught us the arts at all. Ms. Quispe was right, when she said when we stop creating, we stop being human. Have we stopped being human, without our expression?
I remembered what the subjects taught us in school, where we’d made a few crude instruments that children could tinker with, as some semblance of our heritage. My fingers twitched in real time, recalling the fluid movements I’d learned against the piano; sometimes, I found myself walking down there to play a mournful piece. Those were bygone days though, and it wouldn’t demonstrate my loyalty to the colony. I didn’t apply to be a teacher, after all, and we all had our roles. There were other things with more substance. Because of our small population, it was agreed that the next generation needed to share a language, which after much debate, was set as “English.” Secondary languages were optionally available under AI instruction, for cultural preservation.
“You remember…Crisanto? Cherise?” I croaked, struggling to place one foot in front of the other. “He refused to take a job. Wrote…stories. Sent them around on holopads; I liked his one story, where we found a way to make ourselves invisible. Mayor…threatened to kick him out, if he didn’t work…then, he was too tired to write. Dried up, just like we all dry up.”
The security guard escorting me jostled my elbow. “You’re delirious, Taylor. Maybe we should turn back.”
“Fuck off with that shit. We already made it this far. I’ve just been…thinking about how little career diversity there is here. Because of the Krev, we all have to work toward the colony.”
“There’s only a few thousand of us. We don’t have influencers or professional athletes anymore.”
“Imagine spending your life playing a game. Wouldn’t fulfill me, but…it sounds a lot more fun than our life. Us…adults should have a pickup soccer game, in the streets…for old times. Like the kids do.”
“I thought we finally agreed to call it football.”
“And to use the metric system. We stop calling it soccer, and American culture is dead forever. I guess—”
Cherise failed to react in time as my legs gave out, and I faceplanted in the dirt; my head nearly collided with the cane. Somewhere along the way, my grip on the walking aid had loosened so much that it was ineffectual. I cursed my weakness, getting wrapped up in old memories during a pivotal time. Sand would be smeared all over my outfit, when we reached the landing pad. The security guard placed her hand on my back, while using the other arm to slowly lift me up. I struggled to all fours, and limped onward while keeled over.
“Are you alright? Taylor, you can’t meet Gress like this. We shouldn’t have let you go in the first place,” Cherise shouted.
My eyes rolled back in my head, as I saw the landing pad in reach. “I can hear his ship. Walking is the hard part; I can talk just fine. Maybe if he sees me like this, it puts it in perspective. Assuming good old Gress gives a rat’s ass about me.”
“I’m not convinced they feel anything toward us. Remember how that Krev tried to take advantage of us, last time we came to bargain.”
“I know we don’t have any negotiating power. We have no choice but to hope they feel something. For once, we could use some fucking help. I…I think he’ll hear in my voice how awful that accident was. How terrible I feel about letting our obligations to our landlords exceed worker safety, partially for personal gain. I’m a dick, really. This is my fault, whatever you say, and I’m going to fix it.”
The guard touched her ear with a frown. “Mayor Hathaway is saying that you need to pull yourself together; that you can’t be moping around out of guilt right now. He also says if you collapse again, I’m taking you back and he’s coming up here himself. Already suiting up.”
“Brandon’s the one who said he needed me, so let me do what’s necessary! I’m not a fucking quitter. Get me to the pad, and I’ll do my job. I know my orders.”
“You were seriously injured.”
“And other people were killed! I have all of my limbs, and you’d think I could make them work for ten minutes. Give me a break.”
“We need to talk after this. I’ve never seen you like this, in years, Taylor. I’m worried about your stability, and I don’t think you should be anywhere near the Krev. We take you to the landing pad, and you’re sitting down and saying a few lines.”
“Don’t you dare undermine me in front of Gress, Cherise. Your job is to protect me and hold a fucking gun, not to shmooze these bastards like you’re suddenly a diplomat.”
“You know what, you are being a total asshole. I’ll let it slide because you’re hurting and not right upstairs, but you’re not gonna take it out on me again. We clear?”
“Crystal."
I managed to shuffle the last few steps to the landing pad, before setting my backside down on a crate with relief. My head definitely was causing some issues in my basic functions, but I could think clearly enough to know what I needed to tell Gress. In a world where the Krev could empathize and have any pity on a predator’s culture, I’d spit back everything I’d been ruminating on in my own mind, about the lost arts and our shell of a life. That was the one thing we could never tell aliens with side-facing eyes; we remembered how the prey lifeforms had reacted to what we were before. There wasn’t much I knew about the Krev Consortium, other than we had some vague notion that it was a collection of the Krev and five other species. Conveniently all prey.
Why are we the only ones so unlucky to have our eyes in this position? Why did it have to matter so much, that the entire Federation couldn’t bear to look at us? These masks are hiding that we are…monsters. Repugnant monsters, to everyone up in the stars.
I thought back to the wounded human faces in the infirmary, bearing wounds—hiding all of the tumultuous emotions that coursed through my own blood. Some of the binocular eyes that I knew from our small settlement were closed forever, because of the accident, and I couldn’t forget that. I couldn’t unsee the mental images, even the ones that I hadn’t laid eyes on myself. Friends and colleagues, the last of our near-extinct species: the last hope for the homo sapiens lineage to continue. All we built turned to dust eventually, no matter how we struggled.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
I sped along our society crumbling, and ruined our final chance at staving off extinction. Nobody could tell me otherwise; nobody could convince me that I didn’t deserve the wounds I was bearing right now. I had to convince Gress, and I’d do it by any means necessary; we couldn’t get evicted from our home by aliens again.
The Krev vessel touched down, as I’d watched it do so many times, with graceful engines that were left running for our rent collector’s quick getaway. The green-scaled mammal marched down the landing ramp like he owned this entire world, which as far as his kind were concerned, he did. I curled my lip beneath my mask, at the sight of his lashing tail. I wanted to wring my hands around his neck, and make him pay for all the guilt that was eating me up. Instead, I just watched as he spotted us, and stalked over to our position with disdain.
“Did you not know I was coming? Why are the supply crates not waiting, again, after you’re all quite tardy?” the Krev spat.
I inhaled sharply. “Hello, Gress. I’d stand up to greet you, but I’m afraid I’m not quite well. I’ve been advised by our medical staff not to be here, actually, yet I thought it was too important for me to try to smooth things over with you not to show up.”
“You…do not look well. You look as though you can hardly sit up, Taylor. If I didn’t recognize your voice, I wouldn’t know it’s you. I’ll understand if you were to require a different representative for the handoff, and I hope that your medical issues clear up. That doesn’t change my demands for the supplies.”
I threw my hands up in the air, looking defeated. “I’ll level with you, but please, let me explain before you say anything. The supplies aren’t coming. I was…overseeing our mining operations, to ensure that everything was on schedule and we generated what you needed. We pushed ourselves too far. There was…an accident. I sustained a head injury when I was nearly buried alive. Others…died. We can’t get your ore, not for a long time, with our drill in tatters and our workforce eviscerated. I have no choice but to plead for…mercy.”
“I…see.” There was a brief hint of something in his eyes, which resembled sympathy. “It was never the Krev’s wishes for any lives to be lost. I am sorry for what happened to you. By the sound of what I’m hearing come from your mouth, you wish for us to let you stay for free, because of your misfortune. This is after we haven’t wanted you on our world for a long time.”
“I know that, but the accident happened—it was out of our control, or we would’ve given you everything! We need any mercy, no matter how granular: it doesn’t have to be free. We could do something else. Anything else, as long as we can fit it or labor on it belowground. We just need time to repair the drill, and we can resume regular payments; we could renegotiate, so it could be beneficial over the long run.”
“The long run? How does that suit our purposes at all, when what we want is your departure in motion?! These payments haven’t been cutting the trouble you humans are, for a long time. You are intruders in our space, and you always have been.”
“I…I know you feel that way. But please, if you truly feel sympathy for the tragedy we’ve incurred, something we have no way of fixing; give us some reprieve, or at least some proposal to work with us. Don’t throw grieving families out, some with children, from the only homes they’ve ever known, because one thing went wrong with our deal in twenty years. You might think we’re trouble, and think these masks make us untrustworthy because of our cultural differences, but we’ve always met our pact before now. We’re just trying to make a living: a life. I know we failed you, Gress, and I’m asking for mercy anyway.”
The Krev paced for several seconds, at least making a show of seeming conflicted. Cherise’s body language relaxed slightly, reflecting some hope that my plea might’ve gotten through to the snippy Gress. I wasn’t going to set any unrealistic expectations, since our overlords hadn’t ever shown us emotional consideration before. The most we’d gotten from them was being taken advantage of, when we had no choice but to land on this colony; oh, wonder, they let us land. I guess we were supposed to kiss their asses, and sing their praises forever?
“Let me level with you, Taylor. I’m sorry about what happened with your people, but I have orders to see you removed within the year, or I’m fired. Which would be fine by me, frankly, since I never wanted this posting…but I was given it because they trusted me to put an end to this saga,” Gress sighed. “I’m not the type to kick people when they’re down, no matter what’s happened between us. So I have a proposal. Take me to the site of this accident, to see it with my own eyes, and I’ll request for the Consortium to give you a bit more time.”
I stiffened with disbelief. “What? You want us to take you…into our city?”
“I do. What I’ll accept as my payment is some hint of transparency. I’ll give you the alternative to take off your mask, here and now, and look me in the eye. You think we haven’t figured out it’s not that important to your culture at all? I doubt they treated your wounds with that shit covering your skull.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Obviously there’s special circumstances, but we don’t show our faces; it would be a disgrace!”
“If that’s true, then what’s the issue with taking me through your settlement to the mines? I want to know something real about you people. To see how you live, and to see what happened, so I can make my own judgment on whether you deserve mercy. Take me to the accident, or I’ll carry out my government’s will. Your choice.”
Cherise tightened her fingers on her rifle. “That’s not possible, Gress. We don’t like outsiders seeing our private lives.”
“Then I have no reason to help you people. You have—”
“Wait!” I interjected. “Maybe we can…arrange something? We probably could show you some pictures of the site.”
“You and I both know that photographs can be doctored to show whatever you like. Seeing it confirms your story beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“Okay. Then, um, maybe you can give us time to bring out a bag so we, uh, can cover your vision on the way, and clear out any workers? We could walk you down to the mine.”
“Why do you need to clear out any workers? Because you don’t actually wear those goofy outfits down in your cities, and you just hide yourself from us? Take me straight down there, like any normal society, or don’t bother.”
“I can’t, Gress. My people will never give permission for that; I’d be considered a traitor to all of humanity. Please, give us some option that doesn’t violate our privacy and the very…spirit of our traditions!”
“I’m done giving you anything! You’ve hidden yourselves enough to show you don’t trust or respect us at all. This right here is why we can’t fucking stand you, and why I’m not sticking my neck out for you. You have one week to get off our planet, or we will remove you by force. You got that?”
“No, wait! You can’t do that. Please, give us…a week to meet, and discuss how we’ll handle our departure. We need time…to plan it! We just suffered a catastrophe; we’ve been here for years!”
The Krev snorted. “I gave you a chance. You spit in our faces like you always do, behind those two-faced words you love to throw at us. Good-bye, Taylor. I can’t say I’ll miss you.”
Gress turned around back toward his ship, with an arrogant swagger in his step. Cherise gasped in horror, at a loss for words; the mayor seemed to be passing something along into her earpiece, though I couldn’t imagine what he could’ve said that I didn’t. Those heartless aliens hadn’t spared us at all, after we laid our hearts bare to them! Kabir’s face flashed through my mind, panicking as he tried to shut down the drill. An intelligent, dedicated young man who was dead because I put the greedy xenos’ interests ahead of human life.
I could still feel my nose being pressed into the dirt, as I thought I’d suffocated alive. I could remember my final thoughts of regrets, and the horror when I awakened to find we’d have no chance. My head was swimming even now from the aftermath of those wounds, leaving me in a sorry state that didn’t move Gress at all! Would that Krev have cared if I died; if hundreds of humans died?! My fingers tightened around the cane in rage, before with a sudden rush of adrenaline, I found myself stomping after the rent collector on steady feet. I swung the walking aid back, and before Cherise could react, I clobbered it against the back of his skull.
The Krev emitted a startled shriek, which cut off as he crumpled into an unconscious ball. Steaming with white-hot, blinding fury, I brought the cane back for another swing. Cherise’s arms dragged me away with desperation; I could barely hear her pleas for me to stop. All I could see was Kabir’s face, in the last moments I saw him alive, and that suffocating sensation I couldn’t clear from my mind. Security guard Benson finally got a handle on me, wrestling me to the ground. My burst of strength fizzled in an instant, as I laid on my side, immobile.
“What the fuck did you just do? Hathaway’s screaming it, and I fucking agree with him!” Cherise shouted. “We can’t go to war with them, Taylor. You know that. What you just did, could really get all of us killed.”
I blinked, shameful tears welling in my eyes. “Fuck. Gress…Gress is out cold. He’s not waking up any time soon.”
“And now, we can’t let him go. We all have to find a way to fix this. Hathaway, send medics! We need someone to carry Gress, while he’s still out, down to a private infirmary. Bring someone to help Taylor get back too. We should’ve never let him out like this.”
I sucked in several dazed breaths, processing the gravity of what I’d just done, assaulting Gress. Cherise was correct that we couldn’t have the Krev return to his home, and tell his people that we physically attacked him. That could mean war between our people; the only thing I could think of was that we needed to hurry up and leave, before a search party came looking for the rent collector. Maybe it was still possible to get some information out of Gress, and persuade him to call off the dogs? As I waited for the medics to arrive, I desperately racked my brain for any possible way to correct my colossal mistake. This had only worsened the prior burden of guilt, over how I’d ruined humanity’s chances on Tellus.