Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps

Date [standardized human time]: November 27, 2136

The shuttle was crammed full of predators, so much so, that several humans were standing throughout the bumpy ride. I was lucky that I could curl up in Marcel’s lap; the red-haired vegetarian had a steely glint in his eyes. I hadn’t seen this much apprehension in him, not even during the Gojid cradle’s chaos. Something about the Tilfish seemed to inspire fear in Terrans, without an apparent reason.

The superocean was visible on the horizon, as we descended on the sole continent of planet Sillis. The Terran pilots appeared to be half-expecting the natives to shoot our transport down. The United Nations had officially accepted the Tilfish surrender, today; this was the start of bringing their territory under human control. It was possible that we’d see combat, but on paper, our interactions should be restricted to civilian policing.

Marcel grew restless after Earth’s raid, especially once he heard that my redeployment was requested. There was no hesitation from me, to put in formal consent papers to the Venlil government. Oddly enough, I’d begun to feel comfortable around the rowdy predators; living in close quarters with grown beasts was the new normal. The anti-instinct training made me feel empowered for the first time in my life, and I wanted to prove that I was a changed man.

It is awesome that my buddy has recovered, and decided to come with me. After what the Krakotl did, retiring on the homefront is out of the question.

I cleared my throat. “What do you think about races like the Tilfish being predators, Marc? We haven’t really talked about it.”

“It makes a lot more sense than everyone but us and the grays being obligate herbivores,” Marcel growled. “But, they’re not predators, Slanek. And it doesn’t change the fact that they participated in the murder of a billion people.”

I straightened my blinders with a paw. “Maybe it’s possible to reverse the cure though. Humans already started studying the Gojid genome.”

When Cilany’s broadcast arrived back on Earth, it was plastered across every news feed. Terran discussion panels had mixed opinions on alien victimhood, but the “cure” was something all of them lambasted. The Kolshians found themselves vying for public enemy number one. Even the more xenophobic humans considered allying with any converted race that would take the fight to Aafa.

Whatever ties the Venlil still had to the Federation, the conspiracy reframed our stance. How could the Federation mastermind such a heinous crime, as altering species’ identity, for centuries? None of their atrocities had ever been defensible, in my eyes, but I had believed their intentions were good. Every act of bigotry was an attempt to protect their citizens from a malevolent enemy.

Marcel inspected my far-away expression. “Do you feel sorry for the cured races?”

“I don’t know. There’s some things about humans that bother me, but I tried to accept you,” I said. “What right do I have to impose my evolution on you? To erase your history and beliefs? These species lost everything that makes them…well, themselves.”

“You’re right. It’s a cultural genocide that was thoroughly executed, without anyone’s knowledge or consent. I shudder to think what would’ve happened to humanity, if they found us before the Arxur.”

I couldn’t imagine the predators, reduced to terrified prey; stripped of the resilience and aggression that defined them. It wasn’t clear to me if violent instincts could be written out of the human genome, or how the Kolshians might’ve worked around the binocular eyes. Would cultural indoctrination stick to such a strong-willed species?

The Terran transport touched down on a landing pad, following Tilfish signals. I was relieved that we’d set this spacecraft on the ground, rather than jumping out of it. The UN troops unloaded, grimacing as wind gusts buffeted their faces. Sillis was known for its stormy, tumultuous weather, which was fueled by the panthalassa.

A lone Tilfish waited for us, scuttling back and forth with anxiety. “H-hello, humans. I brought…gifts.”

The insectoid gestured with one of her six legs to fruit baskets, which included local jams and preserves. She cowed her glistening head, as several Terrans trained guns on her. Her antennae quivered, anticipating her swift demise. The poor thing was surrounded by predators; forward-facing eyes were angled at her in all directions.

Why did her species send her here alone? This is cruel.

“Thanks for the gifts. Who are you?” I asked.

Tears bordered her smooth eyes. “I’m…G-General Birla. Ambassador D-Dwirl made me come. I am the only one…who, uh, v-voted against…Earth attack…”

The UN soldiers relaxed, but shared a few rattled glances of their own. Several were huddling near the shuttle, distancing themselves from Birla. The faint hairs on Marcel’s arm stood upright, and he ruffled my ears for comfort. I coaxed him forward, bringing us across from the Tilfish.

“Slanek, what are you doing?” the human hissed.

My ears pinned back. “Face your fears, right? That’s what I did with you. This is no different.”

General Birla bent lower to the ground, unable to look the human in the eye. A ripple passed through Marcel’s throat, before he narrowed his pupils. The human extended a trembling hand, keeping his palm flat. The Tilfish must’ve been briefed on Terran mannerisms, because she placed a delicate leg atop his fingers.

“Well, at least someone on this rock has a conscience,” the vegetarian wheezed, jerking his arm back. “Where can we set up shop? With any luck, the ground occupation will get rolled back soon.”

Birla flicked her antennae in the city’s direction. “F-follow me. Please. The—there’s a few things you should know.”

Marcel tucked his hands behind his back, trying to look formal as the squad leader. The medals on his chest were recent adornments. The new Secretary-General issued them to anyone wounded in defense of Earth or the cradle. I couldn’t think of anyone who deserved a commendation more than my friend.

“Go on, he’s listening,” I chimed in. “Is there something to be concerned about, General?”

Birla clicked her mandibles. “We’re…having t-trouble with unrest and dissidents. M-mass protests…many people don’t want a human invasion.”

Marcel raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. How bad is it?”

“The exterminators pulled t-together some rogue generals. They’re offering a bounty for every human killed. We’d deal with it, but the surrendering members complied with your disarmament demands.”

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“And the anti-human factions didn’t hand over their weapons, leaving your government with no way to stop them.”

“Exactly. L-look, not every p-protestor is violent…there’s demonstrations everywhere, like I said. I don’t know if you allow such things, b-but…”

“Last I checked, the UN affirms the right to free speech. But we may impose martial law, until things settle down.”

The Tilfish general shuddered with relief, before climbing onto a monorail train. The insectoid retreated to the furthest corner as the Terrans piled in, and automated doors sealed us in the tight space. Marcel ensured that all equipment was brought aboard, before leaning against a wall. I nuzzled his elbow, desperate for attention.

The human smiled, as he tickled my chin. “You are still adorable, Slanek. You could get away with anything.”

“Anything?” I repeated, with a devious ear flick. “What if I told the Tilfish that you want to give her a belly rub?”

“No! You little shit…you wouldn’t.”

I didn’t respond, turning to the window with a contented stare. Marcel withdrew his hand, crossing his arms with an irritated huff. The vegetarian noted the mirth in my eyes, as the supersonic train hurtled along. But the playfulness seeped out of my demeanor, once I caught glimpses of the chaos.

Judging by the corpses in the streets, stampeding began prior to our arrival. The human soldiers peered out the windows, though the carnage was an unfocused blur. Bringing a predator military to a homeworld inspired panic, especially for the stated purpose of an occupation. The grisly sight reminded me of the cradle, when we rescued Nulia.

Whatever the Tilfish once were, this is not hunter behavior. The public sure isn’t lumping themselves in with humans.

General Birla twisted her antennae, scrutinizing the predators’ responses. I half-expected Marcel to stop the train, and rush off to help the victims. Instead, the red-haired human pursed his lips with discomfort. Our top priority was subduing the populace, and making the area safe for Terran travel.

The train glided to its stopping point, a terminal which emptied into a city square. The humans continued to gawk at the scenery, while clutching their guns tighter. Tilfish protestors were packed into the square; the ones that hadn’t fled the settlement came out as a welcoming party. Insect bodies spanned as far as the eye could see.

“Good grief. We’ve got to get them to disperse,” Marcel muttered. “A gathering of this size, in our faces…”

The vegetarian conferred with several comrades, before the grunts began assembling equipment. I hoped there was non-lethal weaponry in their cache. These were civilians exercising sapient rights Earth validated. It would disappoint me if humanity began their reign by squashing all expression.

General Birla clicked her mandibles. “You n-need a way through the crowd? We s-saved armored vehicles for you. Please…n-no massacre.”

“Will humans even fit in your trucks?” Marcel asked, with raised eyebrows. “I can’t imagine your sitting arrangements are meant for us. These train seats look like step-stools with six tiny holes inserted.”

“We replaced t-the upholstery with biped-designed seats. Like we use with Venlil or Kolshian guests.”

The Terran soldiers lugged some sort of speaker out of the train. The predators clambered atop a vehicle’s hood, and secured the acoustic device to the roof. Marcel hopped into the flatbed, which I took as my cue to follow. These trucks were not self-driving like the ones on Earth; another human moved behind the wheel.

Tilfish protestors jeered at the sight of us. Several individuals sported homemade exterminator gear; lighters and matches were among “weapons” I saw. My human shouted for every friendly to stay behind the truck, before bringing a microphone to his mouth.

“Please return to your homes,” Marcel barked. “Martial law is in effect until further notice. Public gatherings are not permitted until the United Nations has secured the area. Locally-sanctioned curfews will be enforced.”

“Die, predator scum!” a voice shrieked.

More followed in quick succession. “We’re not like you, no matter what any Kolshian says!”

“I will not be your cattle.”

“Human filth don’t belong on Sillis. BURN!”

Chants of ‘Burn’ swept across the gathering, and the agitated protestors closed on our position. This was no longer about sapient rights; the situation changed the second they threatened my friends. Nobody was going to torch my human alive. The thought of him suffering again twisted my heart.

The blinders were helpful in narrowing the scope of the incident. I focused on compartmentalizing my emotions, listing the facts to myself. We were the ones with guns, backed by a predator army. Even if the situation worsened, all I needed to do was pick off a single target.

You can do this, Slanek. Your fear does not control your actions. You want to protect Marc.

I raised my gun with a steady grip, but Marcel’s eyes widened in alarm. He pushed the barrel down with a palm, shaking his head. My ears pinned back, not sure why the human stopped me from defending myself. Wasn’t that what they wanted me to do?

“Killing should be a last resort,” the vegetarian hissed. “Always. Life is a precious thing. Non-lethal options are going to be exhausted first.”

Marcel fiddled with the settings on his speaker. There was nothing audible to my sensitive ears, but waves of Tilfish halted in their tracks. The insects began clutching audio sensors, and some vomited. The device must be concentrating amplified sound in a narrow beam; none of the humans behind the truck were affected.

There was the verdict: Terrans weaponized everything. Marcel, as gentle as he was, had planned for the eventuality of disorder from the beginning. I imagined he’d also brought other tools in case the sonic attack didn’t work. The predators always had a backup plan or a contingency, since I’d worked with them.

UN soldiers began firing grenades into the crowd, which drew a cacophony of screams. But rather than maiming the civilians, it dispersed a milky gas into the air. I wondered if it was a sleeping vapor, at first. The effects kicked in almost immediately, leaving Tilfish crying and coughing. Blinded, several staggered out of the gas cloud in a loopy panic.

I winced with sympathy at the collapsed bodies, recognizing that they were in severe pain. Perhaps the unruly Tilfish would take this as proof of human cruelty, but I saw it for what it was. It was an attempt to incapacitate a hostile group, without any desire to kill civilians. These measures flourished on Earth, due to the violence of Terran stampedes.

Marcel cleared his throat. “Please disperse. We do not wish to arrest or harm anyone. A designated time will be set to air grievances in a civilized manner.”

The vegetarian spoke in an impassive voice, like this was an ordinary decree. Some Tilfish heeded his warning this time, trying to escape the jam-packed square. The agonizing weapons must’ve made them rethink swarming the predator’s locale.

The humans took the crowd’s disorientation as a chance to push forward. Our vehicles rolled ahead, with a line of soldiers leading the way. UN guards in stampede gear began grabbing a few Tilfish, and wrangled them into custody. Unwilling insects were hauled away from their friends, shrieking and writhing.

Marcel repeated his warning about the planet being under Terran control. The sight of advancing predators, bulked up from head-to-toe, was enough to spark flight responses in all but the boldest few. With the civilians flushed out of our immediate vicinity, we could find a campsite.

“You are efficient,” General Birla decided. “Much more organized than the grays. And you took p-prisoners...”

Humor flickered in my human’s eyes. “We’re not going to execute people off the streets, if that’s what you’re implying. Our job is to stabilize the region, and integrate Sillis as a UN vassal.”

“What does our planet look like under your rule? I w-worry about being beholden to predators. Especially if…we are what they say. We might, uh, regress.”

“Annexation comes with certain rights and privileges, unlike total war. We’re not forcing anyone to modify their lifestyle or beliefs.”

For all the baseless fears, of human predation being contagious, not a single Venlil in the exchange program developed an appetite for murder. What I had been forced to do was broaden my horizons. Earth was untamed and dangerous; the perilous environment helped me modify my beliefs.

The idea of controlling my instincts, and tolerating some risk, became palatable. I achieved feats I didn’t know were possible, for someone of a meek disposition. Humans challenged my preconceptions at every turn. Their friendship and their empathy, how my bond with Marcel was close as family…that impacted me more than binocular eyes ever could.

“Getting paired with Marcel is the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said. “He is patient and kind. You can trust him.”

The human bared his teeth. “Thanks, buddy. We make a good team.”

Our exchange hadn’t convinced the Tilfish general, but I saw hope in her story. A single official had the conviction to stand up for the predators; to believe that they deserved to live. Sillis had been relinquished without a drop of bloodshed so far. Even if it was a disproportionate balance, some civilians could come around.

Marcel outlined plans for humanity to cement a foothold in the city, and gather a tally of its populace. The masses were in shock from Cilany’s interview; they needed help deriving meaning. We’d spend a few days getting settled, before we reclaimed rogue areas. Havens for anti-human extermination officers and military leaders were the real issue.

Clearing those territories might be where the Terrans summoned their lethal arsenal. The United Nations would have this newly-conquered world brought to heel, one way or another.

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