Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: October 24, 2136
The meeting in the Krakotl ambassador’s office was adjourned, and would reconvene tomorrow morning. My arrival had disrupted the proceedings from reaching a consensus, but I was glad I had said my part. News took a long time to travel at interstellar distances, and the Federation representatives were making decisions based on outdated and incomplete information. With that step checked off, I could focus on acquiring the evidence of Arxur first contact.
It was peculiar that the records weren’t publicly available, but the Arxur had engaged in planetwide wars. Documentation of such brutality could be traumatizing to watch, so it might be best kept under lock and key. Graphic content should be reserved for the highest-ranking officials; the general public didn’t need to live with the full scope of their nightmarish deeds. How would the humans feel if people were traumatized by their own footage? Carlos and Sam should be more open-minded.
Chief Nikonus was one of the last to leave Jerulim’s meeting, shooting daggers at the Krakotl ambassador. Supposedly, the avian had divebombed the Kolshian leader while he announced vote results. I was surprised that Krakotl Alliance personnel weren’t removed from Federation activities, after not respecting member sovereignty. Their bullying methods were something I’d noticed for years.
The Krakotl were pioneers of all aggressive countermeasures we use. They were crucial to our war efforts, I reminded myself.
Kolshian soldiers crowded us as the leaders departed, and I wondered if we were bound for a cell. Trespassing charges could be levied against all of us, with some validity. My captain’s rank was still active, to the best of my knowledge; disobeying orders could have me stripped of all credentials. Cilany didn’t seem concerned by our insubordination, though. She was flagging down Nikonus as soon as he rose from his chair.
“I stand by my request for answers on the refugee crisis, Chief Nikonus!” the Harchen reporter shouted. “The Federation’s disagreement, and violence toward each other, has left people with no faith in their government.”
The elderly Kolshian ambled toward the exit. “Am I to worry about the people’s faith now?”
“Yes. It’s a matter of time before someone, maybe at my publication, runs with the info I have. It would be extremely damaging to the Federation. Trust me, you need to sit down with me, if you want to maintain stability.”
Nikonus paused. The reporter seemed to have struck a nerve with that last comment, and left him wondering what dirt she had on the Federation. He didn’t know that much of it was silly speculation, combined with predator lies. I suppose he was thinking more about the killing of Federation diplomats, assuming that plot was government-backed.
“In my office. Go quietly,” he decided.
The Kolshian guards shoved us forward on their leader’s order, digging a rifle butt into my shoulder. I walked at a brisk pace for a few steps, then came to an abrupt halt. The soldier tailgating me cursed as he ran into my spines, and was left with prickle wounds all over his form. It was all I could do to stifle a chuckle; I could transport myself to the elevator without hovering grunts.
The lift descended to the lowest floor, which housed the original suite belonging to the Kolshians. The Commonwealth décor referenced their aquatic roots, with massive saltwater tanks lining the walls. Rows of seaweed were planted on the floor, while floating lilies formed the upper layer. I wondered what the humans would think of placing marine habitats indoors. They’d probably think it was as stupid as I did.
Nikonus signaled for his guards to stay outside, and he sealed the doors once we entered his office. Next came a polite tentacle gesture toward a sofa. I was happy to sit down after vaulting onto a table, and walking all across the governance complex.
Berna shared a glance with Talpin. “Humans are wonderful caretakers, Nikonus. They have nurturing instincts that rival our own.”
“I’ll skip the niceties. You two were brought here to sway votes, and I have little time for mind games,” the Chief said.
Talpin pounded away at his synthesizer. “Damn you! We want the Federation to offer us asylum. Why haven’t you done anything for us?”
“The predators could’ve sent you to their friends, the Paltans; they take the most refugees of anyone in the galaxy. We would be happy to coordinate with them.”
“The Paltans are on the opposite side of Federation space, and you know that. They’re a month of travel time away!” Berna spat.
The Kolshian chief stood, and walked to the door with brisk strides. He whispered something to the guards, who dragged the refugees out by the arm. Outrage pumped through my blood, but I managed to keep silent. All they did was beseech Federation aid. It was sad when enemy predators had gone above and beyond to help us, and our allies thought us an inconvenience.
Nikonus settled back down behind his desk. “I will not be guilt-tripped into bringing human spies to live with us! Cilany, what is it that you think you know about the Federation?”
“I have witnesses who say that you gave the voters for diplomatic relations faulty ships. Forensic evidence confirms their tale,” Cilany hissed. “You set out to kill Federation diplomats in cold blood, just for speaking with the predators. Furthermore, you made the Takkan representative disappear, because he saw your plot.”
“Bold, yet foolish, accusations. A person who did such things could make you disappear too, my dear.”
“If I don’t contact my people within a few days, that story will be run as it is. Simply with the tagline; reporter vanishes after questioning Kolshian misconduct. A cover-up would confirm your guilt, but I want to help make this go away. You need Sovlin and I to protect the Federation’s interests. You know we’d pick you all over those ugly predators.”
Chief Nikonus scrunched up his face at the word ugly; perhaps he was wondering if we shared the same view of the furless Kolshians. But their aquatic skin was easy on the eyes, and they didn’t have the paralyzing stereoscopic vision. The bizarre thing about humans was they had small patches of hair, in random places. Regardless, a Harchen individual wouldn’t curl her lip at hairless beings, when her race had no fur either.
We better hope Cilany’s response makes him talk. She just gave our Kolshian host a good reason to dispose of us too.
“How much do you know?” Nikonus asked.
Cilany flicked her tongue in anticipation. “Everything. I know you deleted the first contact files from the records. The Arxur have emotional intelligence and artwork. The Federation saw those traits in humans, when we observed them the first time, but only recorded the negative attributes. I get that you wanted Recel dead for treason. Why didn’t you just execute him and the Terran ambassador on Aafa?”
I waited for a denial to tumble from the Kolshian’s mouth, but the troubled glint in his eyes worried me. His pupils darted toward the door, as though he was considering summoning the guards. Chills ran up my spines; there was something off about his reaction. Slander against the Federation should draw a vehement response.
Nikonus’ bulbous eyes narrowed. “The people recognize me as a reasonable leader, who gave a predator the chance to speak. Gunning down a pleading representative, in front of cameras, makes people question our morality. The exact reason that what Sovlin did is a terrible look. Everyone said I was more than fair to Noah. I even fed and provided for the human.”
Determination sparkled in Cilany’s gaze. “You didn’t fully answer my question. Also, why wait until the diplomats were out of Kolshian territory for the shuttle malfunction?”
“Out of sensor range. Everyone, including their governments, would assume the predator killed them. Nobody saw what happened, and the people don’t need to know.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Why not? Because you hate humans, and never intended for them to get a real chance?”
“I don’t hate humans, but their diplomatic efforts cannot succeed. Look at the disaster that is the Venlil. How many civilians want to see humans attending our meetings; walking these grounds, living here? Also, our people would start asking questions about predators that we don’t want them to ask.”
Unease swirled around in my belly, as those last words registered with me. This Kolshian chief must be going senile in his old age. Perhaps I was reading basic paranoia as something more, because the humans kept whispering theories in my ears.
Cilany palmed her chin. “Federation citizens shouldn’t ask questions about how first contact with the Arxur really went? We have it on good faith that you starved the grays to death.”
“You must not run that storyline!” the Chief hissed, leaping from his seat. “It would do irreparable damage to general morale…and it’s not the whole truth. You’re a good journalist, Cilany, not someone who lives on shock value. Any reporter worth their salt isn’t trying to disintegrate the Federation.”
Dizziness corkscrewed up my body, and I fought back the urge to scream. A ringing sensation drowned out all auditory signals; the tempest of emotions made me want to pass out. The shock was the strongest, as my mind began unraveling. The Kolshian bat couldn’t have just said what I heard. The Arxur were the ones who attacked us, because they were the Arxur!
My entire worldview was shattered in an instant. The anger over what happened to my family, knowing that the Federation were responsible…it was unspeakable. What I wanted to believe was that humans were unique predators, while the Arxur were demonic monsters. It was difficult to accept that my entire life was based on a lie.
Saying that the starvation tale wasn’t the whole truth, meant that it had some veracity to it. I hadn’t even been listening to what ‘Coth’ said during its interrogation, because an Arxur’s words didn’t matter. The only thing I cared about was if the humans had made it scream. The grays deserved to suffer for eating my family alive. Why couldn’t the damn Terrans see that?
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” I charged across the desk at Nikonus, and my vision blurred from rage. My claws were by his throat before I knew it, pinning him against the chair. “You move an inch and I’ll tug your esophagus through your jawbone!”
The Kolshian blinked. “C-calm down. You are quite unstable, Sovlin; your monkey pals have done a number on you.”
“FUCK YOU! They’re not monkeys, any more than you’re an ectolan. It’s a distant evolutionary link, a term you use to desapientize them. Start talking your heart out, or I’ll carve you up.”
Cilany tugged at my arm. “Please stop; you’re scaring me. Nikonus is cooperating. Don’t you want to hear what he has to say?”
No, I don’t. We came here to stop a human-Arxur alliance, not add fuel to the fire. Maybe we should cover this up, so our people survive.
“The Arxur say that you tried to make them allergic to meat.” I took a deep breath, and backed away from the Kolshian. “I didn’t understand what it was saying, but I think it meant they starve without flesh.”
“You talked to a gray?” Nikonus’ voice leapt up an octave, before he collected himself. “I’m disappointed in you, Sovlin. You used to be a good officer…now, you’re a complete disgrace. Your family would be disgusted with the company you keep.”
“You know nothing about my family. TALK, JUST FUCKING TALK, NOW!”
While my words were still charged with anger, conscious thought crept in. The logical side of me realized how dangerous it was to publish this. Whatever really happened, we were in a war of extinction; there couldn’t afford to be any doubt. Narrative clarity is what gave the Federation conviction. Without it, we would start losing worlds faster than ever, and face divisions within our own ranks.
The Kolshian sighed. “There were three of us who laid out the groundwork for the Federation. When Kolshian explorers came in contact with the Farsul, more than a thousand years ago, the galaxy was young. We were the first in this sector to escape our gravity well. You know about the founding of this institution, but I reiterate it just in case.”
“The Krakotl were the third,” Cilany offered.
“Yes, they were a problem from the start; aggressive, disagreeable. We tried to identify the problem, and why they were so ill-equipped for spacefaring. We learned they were scavengers, who would occasionally go for fish as well. We were more level-headed because we’re herbivores.”
My jaw almost hit the floor, as I tried to digest this information. The Krakotl, a race I had cooperated with throughout my career, consumed meat a thousand years ago? It was tough to believe that they’d hidden that fact from everyone else. Thinking of them as predators didn’t compute in my brain. By the Protector, they had side-facing eyes…and a religion against flesh-eating beasts.
My endearment to the humans was all that stopped me from wanting the birds removed from the Federation. Flesh-eaters deserved a chance, and we had managed to coexist for centuries. I didn’t understand what Nikonus’ “scavenger” descriptor meant, but the Kolshians must’ve put an unholy amount of time into predator research.
“We gave them a choice: take our cure, or we would wipe them out with a bioweapon. It was an easy choice for them. We brought them to be re-educated in camps, and the new religions were the algae on the fruit mash. They had to hate predators, or they’d find a way to revert back.”
Cilany bore an aghast expression. “You invented the Cult of Inatala?”
“Beliefs, religious or not, are the best way to control people. We planted fake archaeological texts, and rewrote their history. They’ve become a productive race. Harder to control now, but the cultural changes stuck. They have an enemy…a purpose.”
“Do the Krakotl have any idea what was done to them?”
“The Krakotl don’t know this, obviously…that would be cruel, Cilany. It’s a closely-guarded secret of the highest-ranking Farsul and Kolshians. The process is down to a science, more subtle these days. We keep peace, and give grotesque races a chance at normalcy.”
“Races? Plural?” I echoed.
A sadistic glint surfaced in his pupils, though it was gone a second later. Perhaps Nikonus sensed how much this narrative hurt me. I had no idea how to feel about the Krakotl being a “cured” race; it clearly hadn’t ended their aggression, given their intimidation tactics. Still, it would be cruel for Jerulim to learn about this past.
“Yes, I’ll get to that. We learned a hard lesson about giving full-on predator races the same chance; hunting and scavenging are different. Hunting, being an actual predator, means unchecked war and violence,” he explained. “The grays asked us for help with their food problem, then refused to try herbivory. Their arrogance is why they starved.”
Cilany narrowed her eyes. “You also killed their cattle to be sure.”
“They’ve shouted that one from the rooftops before. Blatantly untrue. We don’t kill herbivore animals… we’re not predators. That’s just absurd!”
I swallowed in discomfort. “There’s others in the Federation that used to eat meat? You said you’d get to that.”
“Oh Sovlin, I already told you. For the small minority of species who don’t find herbivory alone, we teach them the right way. Doesn’t the religion against predators sound familiar?”
Something clicked in my brain, as the prevalence of the Great Protector faith flashed through my mind. The Federation encouraged it as an “emblem of Gojid culture”…no, that couldn’t be right. I wasn’t a predator! The thought of eating meat sickened me, and our government had been the first to take action against Earth.
The damn Kolshian looked so sure of himself though; somehow, my heart knew he was telling the truth. I sank to my knees, and stared at my lengthy claws in horror. The ancestors in my genes ate carcasses. My body was conditioned for that. Acid surged in my throat, before I puked all over Nikonus’ feet.
The Kolshian leader massaged my neck. “Oh, it’s alright. We fixed your species…one of the most successful conversions. Chalk it up as something you have in common with the upright apes.”
The self-hatred was on the same level as when I realized my mistake with Marcel. Cilany was giving me the petrified look she gave Carlos, like I was a monster. All I wanted was to escape from my body; there was no way I could control predator instincts I didn’t know I had. This was a nightmare of unimaginable proportions.
“No. You’re lying,” I whimpered.
“I am not. See, Cilany? It’s cruel.”
The reporter’s eyes watered. “I don’t know what to say. This is a lot at once.”
I crumpled into a ball, letting my tears drip to the floor. A faint thought wondered how the humans would react, but I didn’t have the energy for hypotheticals. Everyone I ever knew and loved…myself and my family…were abominations. Not only had the Federation done what the Arxur said, but our members were corrupted. My perennial allegiance was gone.
What did Gojid history actually look like? What elements of our culture had been wiped away? I didn’t know how we’d begin to figure that out, with the cradle gone. It wasn’t clear who we were, or how to retain a cohesive identity. The humans, for all their goodwill, couldn’t help us in this regard.
Nikonus leaned forward. “Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets. People like the Gojids can live in peace from their past. We’ve made it possible for them to walk among us, without threatening stability. We saved them.”
“What you did is wrong,” Cilany whispered, shooting a glance at me. “You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale. Your actions are going to kill us all, between the Arxur and the humans!”
“You haven’t learned a thing here. If you publish any of this, I’ll shoot it down as a wild fabrication. There’s no proof. Nobody would believe you.”
The Harchen chuckled bitterly, and pointed to her notepad. A tiny camera was taped to the top, blinking yellow. My gaze focused on the lens, a desperate plea for help. I wondered if the humans were watching this livestream now, from their shuttle. The Kolshian’s eyes widened with horror, and he slapped a tentacle over his mouth.
Cilany cleared her throat. “They don’t have to believe me. You just told everyone yourself.”
Nikonus bared his teeth. “What?! Short-sighted bitch! You have no idea what you’ve just done. I should have you both shot!”
“Ha, execute us on video. Go ahead. The truth is out there, and you can’t take it back.”
There was a certainty in her words, and she knelt beside me without hesitation. I let her help me stand, grateful for the support. Kindness for the Gojids might be on permanent hiatus, now that we were outed as predators. Nausea lingered around the notion of my species eating meat. It would take years to make sense of this interaction.
I didn’t know that Cilany was right to broadcast any of this, even with the lies and manipulation we’d uncovered. Regardless, nobody could’ve known the content Nikonus would divulge. It would be curious to see how the Federation’s citizens reacted to our interview. The humans were destined to side with the Arxur now, so what mattered was the time we had left.