Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: December 3, 2136
The dark thoughts didn’t catch up to me until we circled back to our main base, within the Tilfish metropolis. During combat, the survival instincts humans drilled into me prevailed. Emotion was something to be shut down, because it would interfere with our mission. But alone with Marcel now, I began to worry what the Terrans had awakened within me.
There must be a reason I hadn’t written my parents, since our deployment to the Cradle. I had every opportunity to send a message home to Venlil Prime, yet I neglected the task of telling my folks I was okay. What kind of son would leave them in the dark, while bouncing between war zones with predators? They had just buried their other child; my brother had perished in combat with the Arxur not long ago.
I powered through during the battle, but images of that Tilfish falling lifeless haunted my mind. The scariest part was that I hardly felt anything over pulling the trigger. Marcel said, to paraphrase, that only a sociopath wouldn’t feel conflicted over their first kill. Why did I feel proud, when the dust settled? What if my family thought I had become a predator, when they saw how much I’d changed?
Taking a life should’ve rattled me more. Yet I feel only hatred for those who would threaten the humans…just a pit of rage.
Marcel penned a letter home every day, since FTL comms couldn’t reach Earth. The red-haired human was manning the UN supply tent, as we waited out our shift. Our locale was open for public grievances, as promised. Unfortunately, for the second day in a row, nobody wandered into a predator encampment. The humans needed to find a different way to connect with Sillis’ populace.
Marcel smacked the paper he’d written. “How does this sound? ‘The UN specifically sought out people with a love of insects and arachnids. Hell, entomologists are shortlisted for the diplomatic corps. Guess they couldn’t find enough bug-lovers, because I’m stuck here.’”
“I think you’re running out of things to tell her. You’ve already talked about your discomfort,” I remarked.
“No, this one is about how they’re selecting people. Slanek, we didn’t have to be here. Humans and Tilfish share that feeling of ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’ A mutual agreement to that end could’ve avoided this shit.”
“I think such an agreement would be wrong too. We felt that same way about humans. Was the exchange program a mistake?”
“No…of course not! We’re nightmares to the Tilfish, and they’re nightmares to us. I just meant we didn’t have to kill each other over it. Avoidance was possible.”
“But when we cleared the rogue settlement, that wasn’t avoidable. Didn’t we have to kill them, Marc? Didn’t you like cleaning up the neighborhood patrols?”
The Terran stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t like killing anyone. I told you at the protest; it’s a last resort.”
“Life is precious, right? You humans just shut the kill switch on and off as you please.”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“It’s easy for you to commingle violence and empathy! Your emotions never run amok, but they’re never absent either. Maybe Venlil instincts exist for a reason…because we shouldn’t flip that switch.”
Marcel placed his letter down, and his mouth fell into an o-shape. The human inspected me with piercing eyes, scanning my mannerisms with ease. This was my closest friend in the universe; it was like he could peer into my soul. Doubts racked my mind, along with shame and fear. What if the training from Sara’s instinct program had gone too far? Was I turning into someone I didn’t want to become?
“Slanek, are you okay?” the Terran asked.
I slumped my shoulders. “Violence should sicken me...I’m a Venlil, a timid one at that. I blew someone’s head off! But I can’t make myself feel guilty.”
“Easy buddy. There’s no right way to process your experience. You were focused on surviving, and now you’re confused. Because you feel like you had to…because you think our mission is justified.”
“I regret that I had to kill them, but I don’t wish they were still alive!”
The alien leaned back on his haunches, running a hand through his auburn hair. I could see Marcel’s scarred face contort, as he contemplated what I said. My human must be horrified by these words, though his kind were excellent at masking negative reactions. Scathing judgments must be running through his brain at this second; I wasn’t the innocent Venlil he’d befriended.
I remember how proud Marcel had been at my first combat simulator, and how fervently my human encouraged me. He’d warned me not to change myself, certainly not for his sake. Now, I saw the changes he was referring to. The program taught me to manage my fears, but I’d lost my identity along the way. A soldier without empathy was no more trustworthy than a coward.
I’m still a liability to Marcel, just in a different way. He deserves a better Venlil as his buddy.
The vegetarian chuckled, and shook his head. “Hey, I set a building on fire, because I hate the exterminators. It’s okay to hate those sadistic fucks.”
“You’re a more aggressive species.”
“Times are changing, Slanek. Upbringing plays a large part in—”
Mandibles clacked outside the supply tent, and a young Tilfish scuttled through the flap. Marcel instinctively tugged his legs back at the child’s approach, and forgot our conversation. It was a bit amusing how the human forgot to breathe. How could this soldier endure a shootout with dozens of insectoids, but a close-up kid mortified him?
The Tilfish child moved a leg along Marcel’s arm with curiosity; I think the sleeve cuffs baffled our visitor. The red-haired human gulped, and made a visible attempt to relax. His pale hand fished into a drawer, and for a moment, I feared he was grabbing a gun. Perhaps I should’ve stepped in, instead of having a chuckle at his instincts.
Marcel secured a small stick beneath his fingers, which had a circular object resting atop it. He undid a wrapper over the sphere, and held it out to the Tilfish. The child giggled, accepting the gift. His compound eyes studied the specimen, not understanding its purpose.
“That’s a lollipop, son. You suck on the red circle; it’s sugar.” The human spoke in a gentle voice, though it was fraught with discomfort. “Just don’t eat the stick. That’s not food.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Thank you!” the Tilfish squealed. “I’m Virnt. Wanna be friends?”
“Sure! I’m Marcel. You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you? You know, my daughter, Nulia, loves sweets too.”
I flicked my ear in amusement. “Wait a second. Marc, you brought candy just to give to Tilfish children? The ones that creep you out?”
“Of course I did! You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
“And you brought Venlil plushies on the cradle for Nulia.”
“That…wasn’t for Nulia. Is that judgment I hear, Slanek?”
Virnt pawed at Marcel’s leg, asking to be picked up. The human shivered, but helped the child onto his lap. His hand drifted atop the insectoid’s exoskeleton. His cheeks were ashen with visible disgust; Terrans acted like Tilfish carried some lethal disease. The fear wasn’t founded on being eaten alive. Despite the comparisons, it wasn’t the same brand as our instincts toward them.
General Birla staggered into the tent, antennae flailing with fear. Her mandibles clicked, at the sight of Virnt cuddling with the predator. I gauged from her stricken demeanor that this was her son. Her six legs blurred with motion, and she snatched the youngling away from Marcel. The kid squeaked in protest, clinging to the lollipop.
The insectoid held her son close for a long time, and Marcel watched with a casual stare. As the sole Tilfish general to vote against Earth’s raid, Birla must have had her reasons to spare the hunters. But it was clear from our brief interactions that she feared what the Terrans would do to Sillis.
Certainly Birla can see how sweet Marcel was being, I mused. And how hard he works against his own instincts.
Birla straightened her antennae. “I told you never to t-touch the humans! I also told you to wait outside the t-tent until I got permission.”
“Humma is nice. Very nice humma. We’re friends!” Virnt clicked.
“Humans do NOT like us. I explained this to you twice. Soldier Marcel, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine, really…please, don’t tell the little guy that. I don’t mind,” the vegetarian said.
“I’ve visited human units across the Mercantile region. I can see plainly that you do mind us.”
“What do you mean? Have we done something wrong, General?”
“You’re the predators here, but…you’re afraid of us too. There’s always someone who gets startled, and even a few that scream like prey. I don’t want you to hurt Virnt out of fear.”
Marcel narrowed his eyes. “I was never going to hurt him. I’m sorry if I overstepped, giving him that treat.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to understand humans. Everything I learn adds more questions. What about us alarms you so much?”
“Er, on our world, insects indicate rotting food and contamination. We see Tilfish as harbingers of disease. My brain screams to get you away, as fast as possible. But I know you’re not a threat, and I’m sorry that I feel that way toward you.”
General Birla was silent for a long moment, before releasing Virnt from her grasp. The Tilfish child bounced back to the human, and nuzzled his warm leg. I expected the Terran’s shudder this time. Marcel’s biological responses made sense from an evolutionary perspective, especially through the lens of ancient predation. Meat stores must attract disease-carrying insects frequently.
This wasn’t exactly the insight I hoped to extract from the Terran. Because of the incursion, Marcel hadn’t fully addressed my personal concerns. I did feel better having the truth off my chest, but I hadn’t spilled my familial distancing. Part of me wondered what the human was saying about upbringing. Had I branched off so far from my roots, that I was unrecognizable to other Venlil?
“I’m sorry that I’m afraid of you too,” Birla sighed. “That’s why I voted against hitting Earth. There wasn’t an argument for it that wasn’t speculative…based in fear.”
Marcel pursed his lips. “Fear comes from the imagination, not reality. I sure hope I’m not as terrible as you imagined.”
“No. If you’re wondering why I’m here, it’s because I wanted to talk to you. It’s obvious how much your Venlil adores you, and I know who you two are. I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
“Unfortunately. Everyone who tuned into Noah’s speech…trillions of aliens saw me at the worst moment of my life.”
“S-sorry. That was insensitive of me. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
The red-haired human took the empty lollipop stick away from Virnt, and dropped it in a trash bin. I was curious to try one of those sweets myself, though it might sound childish to ask. Marcel misinterpreted my stare, and beckoned with a finger. I mewled as I approached, and pressed my ear against his nice nails.
The Terran soldier smiled. “It’s alright, Birla. If you’re here to talk about something serious, I must ask why you brought your son.”
“Virnt likes the ‘hummas’ on TV. Thinks you’re fun…and squishy? I let him tag along, since it might make him stop asking about you. I don’t want him reported for predator disease, even if I, um, see the signs too.”
I tilted my head. “That is a serious prognosis. You should get him screened soon. No normal child isn’t scared of predators, at least a little.”
“Slanek!” Marcel hissed. “Predator disease is your catch-all term for anything outside ‘herd normals.’ You want this kid electroshocked for being curious about humans?!”
“No…I just think it’s in the community’s interest to be vigilant. Birla is his mother, and she admittedly sees the signs.”
“We are going to have a long talk about this in private. General, there’s nothing wrong with Virnt. Don’t let any bigots tell you otherwise.”
“Humma likes me!” the Tilfish child cheered.
“Yeah, I sure do, kiddo.”
Sorrow tugged at Marcel’s expression, spilling into the occasional pointed look at me. I saw a glimmer of protectiveness in his gaze, while Virnt played with his bootlaces. The human was more judgmental over suggesting a medical screening, than my admission about my first kill. It was like my best friend thought I wanted to hurt a child!
It’s sad that some people are a danger to society. We can help a few of them…if we catch it early.
The vegetarian swallowed. “Anyhow, to business. What can I do for you, Birla?”
“I’ve heard reports of UN divisions picking up and leaving in a hurry. Many Tilfish see it as a victory, driving off human invaders. But I know there’s something more going on,” she explained.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Nobody here’s left.”
“It seems the units in the big cities are the last to leave. It’s like the UN wants their departure to go unnoticed. If I’m right, I expect them to pull you guys out within the hour.”
“Is that so? I told you we hoped a ground occupation wouldn’t last long. Maybe the UN is stepping back now.”
My ears perked up with hope; General Birla had no reason to lie about Terran actions. Did that mean the predators were moving us somewhere else? It was clear that the locals didn’t want us on Sillis, so a hands-off approach might be best. The humans didn’t want to be here longer than was necessary anyways.
“All UN personnel, please proceed immediately to your evacuation zone.” A monotone human voice poured through the PA system, with impeccable timing. “Do not use public transit, or contact the natives. Avoid combat engagements if possible. Orbital threat level is severe.”
Birla’s antennae flailed. “W-what? Orbital threat level? Are…are you airstriking us into s-submission?”
“Of course not!” Marcel growled. “That message is referring to an external threat. It can only be the grays, to merit such a hasty response.”
“The Arxur? No! We s-surrendered to you to s-stop their genocide, and you’re just leaving us to die? What about t-the Tilfish down here?”
“I hear what you’re saying. If evacuating civilians isn’t a primary directive, then our escape must hinge on not being slowed down at all. The UN could be expecting an attack within the hour.”
“B-broadcast a message for civilians to get to bunkers, at least. P-please!”
“I’m…sure we will. Come with us, Birla. We’re getting out of here.”
Fear returned to my bloodstream, as I noted the eerie similarities to the cradle. To say those memories rattled me was an understatement. But if Marcel and I escaped that chaos, there was no reason we couldn’t do it again. At least this time, the bombs hadn’t started falling yet. Back then, we hadn’t known the Arxur arrived until Gojid settlements were being leveled.
With no time to waste, we cleared out of the tent quickly. The Tilfish general followed Marcel, who was toting Virnt into his arms. I hurried after them, and the human only glanced back a single time. The vegetarian must be livider about my ‘predator disease’ comments than I thought. Why would he let a small disagreement cause a rift between us?
“I’m sorry, Marc,” I offered timidly.
Marcel sighed. “You’re only sorry because I’m pissed. I’ll accept your apology when you know why you’re sorry.”
Distant flashes twinkled on Sillis’ largest moon, which I assumed housed planetary defenses. It was uncanny to see a full-fledged battle, reduced to white and orange dots amidst blackness. Ships must be clashing overhead, as the UN fleet fought to restrain the enemy. It put into perspective the staggering distance between us and a higher-orbit engagement.
Explosions continued to flood the sky, with increasing frequency. I wondered if any stargazing civilians had noticed the indicators; the nighttime was a microcosm of death. A ticking clock was hiding in plain sight, marking our dwindling time to get off this world. I hoped the humans fared better in Sillis’ initial defense than the catastrophe of the cradle.