---First Contact---
---Yakchutt’s perspective---
---[2678 Terran Calendar/35 years BF]---
I sit in the chair on the Bridge of this Naval escort vessel, scowling at my [Comms Officer].
“That’s not funny, Carmagon.” I state, irritably.
“I’m not joking, Sir. We’re being hailed over EM frequencies, quite insistently, by multiple ships, converging on our current location. The language they’re hailing us in is an undocumented one. Also, it seems that one of this planet’s moons is a cacophony of EM signals, suggesting quite extensive habitation. Mostly in another undocumented language, different from the one they’re hailing us in.”
“This is a deathworld system, Carm! You expect me to believe we just stumbled upon a space flight capable, uncontacted species, on a random freight escort mission… in a deathworld system?”
“You can believe what you like, Sir, but that’s certainly how it’s looking at the moment…”
I sigh.
“If this turns out to be some kind of practical joke, Carm, I swear…!”
“If it is, Sir, it’s one being played on both of us.”
I grit my teeth and ask “Can we decode their language?”
Carmagon thumps his left fist in negation “Not the one their hailing us in, Sir, no. But…” he raises that arm in affirmation “…there’s certainly enough of the other language coming from that moon to decode it algorithmically.”
“That… will have to do… let us hope that they don’t view being addressed in that language as an insult! Put it on screen…”
A moment passes before, in front of me, appears a representation of an unfamiliar being.
Its face is bilaterally symmetrical and its skin is medium brown.
Two rounded ears protrude slightly from the sides of its head.
Its two, forward facing eyes are white, with dark brown circular pupils and between them is a mildly protuberant sense organ, vertically oriented on its flat face, nares pointing downward.
It has a headdress of long, curly, jet black, fur integument that seems to grow naturally from its scalp with two shorter, smaller lines of the same growing above its eyes, tilted down in the middle and heavy creases between them.
It has a horizontally oriented mouth, its star white teeth bared in obvious anger.
Below its mouth is a chin with a curious, forward jutting spur at its point.
It’s head sits on a neck, a little less than half the height, over wide, flat shoulders with the top of some kind of chest protrusion visible at the bottom of the frame.
“Ziss iz Mastah Chiif Gabri Ela ‘Bow Bab’ Soloniaina ov zi Zanahary Sistum Difenss Foss… Wud yu jokaz keyah tu egzplein wut, egzakli, yusink yu ah duin hiah!?” says the undocumented creature, angrily, in an incomprehensible language.
“Apologies… Sir or Madam… our computers have not been able to decipher the language you are using to address me, are you able to converse in the language you should be hearing right now?”
A range of indecipherable emotions play across the being’s face as it listens to the translation of my words.
Then it rolls its eyes and purses its lips “The Malagasy’s a nice touch(!)… Aliens don’t know English and had to decipher the most common language in the signals from Lemak instead, right(?!)”
I raise my hand in confirmation and say “That is correct, Sir or Madam.”
“Oh… and aliens wouldn’t be able to tell that I was a woman either, right(!?)”
“That is also correct, Madam.” I say, keeping my hand in the air.
Rolling her head, she asks “Alright, Mr Alien… you got a name?… Who are you working for, exactly?”
“My name is [Captain] Yakchutt… I work for the Galactic Union Navy and am currently providing an antipiracy escort to freight between the planets Prosperity and Unsatxo.”
“Yah-huh… just keep digging buddy(!)”
“I’m sorry… what do you mean?”
“What do I mean?! What do I mean!?!?!?” shrieks the woman from the uncontacted species “What I mean is your convoy here came into my system, unscheduled and unannounced, you aren’t broadcasting any kind of registration, you didn’t check in with Aerospace Control on Lemak Vaovao before jumping the queue to degauss into Andrianerinerina, when hailed, you give me a mononym and tell me you’re escorting freight as an illegal mercenary for an unregistered defence contractor… all the while wearing that stupid digital mask and pretending to be First Contact from beyond the fucking stars! So… just keep digging because, right now, I’m going to be escorting every. single. one of you off of that ship in HANDCUFFS… What are you even supposed to be!? If that’s meant to be a Krogan, it’s way off…!”
“You’re asking… my species, Madam?”
“My rank is [untranslatable rank: ‘Master Chief’. Meaning: proficient leader] and my name is Gabriela ‘Baobab’ Soloniaina, Captain… Pick one to address me by! And, yes… tell me your ‘species’…(!)” says the angry alien woman in what I’m 90% sure is a mocking tone, despite the translation not yet being that sophisticated.
“My people are called the Ulat. Every word I have spoken to you has been the truth, [Master Chief]… We didn’t check in with your authorities because our charts show this system as being uninhabited and unsettleable!”
“Bullshit they do!!!” she interrupts “That trick might work on planets settled recently but Lemak Vaovao has been settled since [untranslatable date: 2375]! There’s no way your charts could be that out of date…!”
“Unless… my chart of this system was last updated [70,000 years] ago?” I pose.
“Oh, you mean 69,500 years before interstellar flight?! You mean 69,000 years before the Industrial Revolution!? You mean 60,000 years before Humanity first set hoe to soil!?!?!?” she raises a pentadactyl hand, slimmer and more nimble looking than mine, and holds it out in… some kind of accentuating gesture.
“[Master Chief]… how good is your digital analysis software?”
The woman looks extremely confused as she asks “Best there is, just about… Why?”
“I invite you to use it on this call. If you think my appearance is the result of me wearing a ‘digital mask’ then, surely, with the best analysis there is… traces of the manipulation would be detectable, wouldn’t they?”
The mistrustful woman narrows her eyes, her mouth seeming to decrease its width by half as she says “Mahaka… run analysis on this feed, search for any kind of tampering.”
“No irregularities detected, [Master Chief] Soloniaina… Additionally, preliminary scans of the intruding ships have revealed several anomalies that would be difficult to explain as either illegal smugglers or practical jokers. Projecting a >99% likelihood that they are perpetrating no deception.” answers one of the woman’s underlings, instantly and with a strangely artificial voice.
Her mouth falls open slightly and she turns to stare at me, wide eyed, seeming to now realise the monumentality of this moment for her species.
After [6 seconds] she speaks, decisively “This is above my pay grade. Power down and come to. Make no attempt to leave the system while we… figure out what to do about you!”
“We’re not going anywhere, [Master Chief]…”
---two days later---
The first attempt of the diplomat pair to board my ship was [35 minutes] ago…
They came through the airlock in sealed, pressurised suits which they explained ahead of time were to prevent any xenonotic disease transmission.
What they did not see fit to warn us of was the noxious cloud of isopropyl vapour that emanated from the outsides of their suits, causing any who approach to gag and wretch as the alcohol in the air burned our eyes and lungs.
They apologised profusely and assured us that this had not been an intentional chemical attack and, instead, was just another line of defence against the transmission of disease.
Dousing the outside of the suits in a 70-30 mixture of isopropyl alcohol and water was meant to sterilise them of pathogens. They hadn’t realised we would be so sensitive to the residual fumes!
Their species is either very biochemically resistant to alcohol… or quite stupid not to realise such a thing.
That section of the ship has been sealed off and the air cycled.
For their part, the Humans adjusted their absurdly cautious disease countermeasures by adding a shower in sterile, distilled water after the alcohol shower!
Have they recently experienced some kind of epidemic?
Why else be so cautious?
Instances of xenonosis are vanishingly rare!
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Though, they likely don’t know that, given their uncontacted status… perhaps their fiction emphasises it as a threat?
The airlock cracks and through steps a male with purple eyes who stands around one of his heads (half of mine) shorter than me.
His name is Ndum ‘Lemur’ Rain.
It has been explained that, as a ‘Tshwane’, he is unusually tall for the Human species.
Beside him is his wife, Nirina ‘Orchid’ Rain, standing a little more than my waist height.
Their faces are fully visible through the clear polymer of their helmets’ faceplates.
They avoid greeting any of us meeting them with the bared teeth that we explained would trigger feelings of discomfort in us (for resembling a threat display) and, instead, turn up the sides of their closed mouths while holding both their palms in front of them in an Ulat greeting gesture.
I stride toward them, trying hard not to dwell on the possibilities of what they might be…
Extending a tetradactyl right hand to them in their people’s gesture of friendly greeting, I begin “Ambassadors Rain. It is a pleasure and a delight to-OOOUGH!”
I trip over the same clumsy feet that excluded me from the army a lifetime ago and fall forward.
I am going to kill them…
They can’t even be a ⅒ of my mass! Having me land on top of them is going to kill them… and go down in history as the single most bungled First Contact ever made!
My body impacts the larger one’s and finds it… solid!
I barely have time to be surprised about just how sturdy the being I’ve impacted is before I hit the smaller and find her, impossibly, even MORE solid!
They are neither killed nor crippled by the clumsy fall of one so much larger than they.
They aren’t even knocked off their feet, though they are required to brace themselves to remain standing!
Four hands extend to my chest and push me back into an upright position.
I take four steps back and drop to one knee, placing both hands on the floor and saying “May I die 512 deaths for this transgression! Are you hurt?!” trying to ignore the bruises blooming on my shoulders, where my body impacted theirs, and chest, where their hands impacted me.
“I’m fine… Ndum?” says the female Human.
“No harm done! I was surprised by just how light you were, Captain Yakchutt!… What about you, are you OK?”
Without raising my head, I answer “My wellbeing is immaterial after such a blunder, Ambassadors!”
“It’s really fine, Captain!… We’ll call it even after us accidentally teargassing you the first time we came aboard(!)” giggles the woman “Now… How about you stand up and we find somewhere to talk?”
---later---
I sit across the table from the pair in the ship’s conference room.
Each of them occupy one of the Ulat sized chairs, looking slightly reminiscent of hatchlings, given how much smaller the adults of their species are than mine.
“So… Captain… The Planetary Assembly of Lemak Vaovao has authorised us to give you this…” the man places an object on the table and slides it to me.
“It’s a data drive containing all the information on our people that we’re able to give you at the moment.” smiles the woman through closed lips “It has an expansive collection of films, books, music, codices of a few of our most spoken languages and encyclopaedias worth of nonfiction information about our ecology, history, culture etc.… All of it is very prominently tagged with ‘fiction’ and ‘nonfiction’! Would hate anyone to get scared into thinking we’re going to unleash metaHumans, or Werewolves, or dragonriders, or zombie hordes on them(!)… It does not, I’m afraid, contain any information on our military technology or capabilities… nor location data for any of the other Terran worlds, at the insistence of the local Military and Intelligence Services… they even had the AI in charge of the scrubbing black out any shots of the clear night sky, in any of the photos and films from other planets, in case you manage to use the stars to locate those systems!… We told them they were being ridiculous but they absolutely would not budge!… I hope you don’t view our people’s caution too unfavourably…”
I thump my fist on the table, startling them with the negation, and say “Of course not… as a military man myself, I understand completely… but… I’m sorry, did you say an AI… coordinated this list? You have servile AI?”
Forgetting to keep their teeth hidden, both ambassadors burst out laughing.
“Servile!?” cackles the woman, raising her hand to cover her mouth, seeming incapable of pulling her lips down to hide them “We absolutely do not have ‘servile’ AI… we have AI citizens…”
I frown, a pit of anxiety in my stomachs as I ask “But… how did you avoid the derangement?”
“Simply by not treating them as ‘serviles’ is how…” smiles the man “…when given the same liberties as any organic citizen, the same opportunities for social connection and professional fulfilment, we managed to mostly circumvent the uprisings and breakdowns that plagued early research.”
That’s… an extremely worrying thing to learn!
“Ambassadors… I have to… tell you something… something it may be distressing for you to hear…” I start.
The pair’s expressions change and they lean forward.
“The planet you call home… by galactic standards… is extremely dangerous!”
“Yes…” says the man, the medium brown skin of his flat nose and brow creasing “…Master Chief Soloniaina told us you described this system as ‘unsettleable’… I am curious to know why… We celebrated our tricentennial a few years ago, I’d hate to think there was such a dire threat that we had missed for so long!… Is there a gamma ray burst on its way here? A nearby star about to go supernova? A black hole we somehow haven’t detected?”
I give another thump, which they do not start at this time, and say “None of those things… It’s the planet, itself, and the system it’s in which are the threats… The star you call Zanahary is volatile and high energy, the crust of your planet is thin and prone to powerful upheavals and emissions of molten rock, the gravity is more than [9m/s2] and the ecosystem is structured with dangerous herbivores being killed and eaten by vicious carnivores!”
The pair both raise a single eyebrow and look at eachother with confusion I don’t need a translator to perceive.
“Uhm… is that not just almost any lifebearing planet you’re describing there, Captain?” asks the woman.
I thump my fist “It is not, no!… When we discovered you here, I assumed that this system had to have been misclassified in its last survey… So I checked some of the data… May I have your permission to show you some highly disturbing footage of an animal that existed on your world [70,000 years] ago?”
The two lean forward and wag their heads up and down which it takes me a moment to remember is an affirmative.
I call up the file and sling it to play on the wall.
“This footage was captured in atmosphere from the survey craft… and displays the hunt of a creature that I presume must have been killed off by the volatility of its environment between then and now… I don’t think your people would have been able to settle your world if these things had still been present!”
The footage opens on a slender arboreal mammalian with pink fur, climbing down from a lone tree in the light of dawn.
“That is a herbivore, coming down to gather fallen nuts… Keep watching.” I assure them.
A purple streak bursts from the indigo grass. The prosimian scarcely has time to react before a pair of jaws close around its neck and its body falls limp.
Its dizzying speed no longer required, the gracile, feline predator stands eerily still for some moments, the carcass hanging from its mouth as it swivels its predatory head, scanning with its black, soulless eyes.
The footage ends.
“You see…? You live on a planet whose ecology is capable of creating monsters such as that! Even if there are none such at the moment, you surely see the risk!”
The pair look at me with expressions I haven’t yet seen. Both letting out juddering, voiceless breaths.
“Should we show him Sarobidy?” asks the man.
“I think so…” smiles the woman.
“What? What are you showing me?” I ask, confused.
The man reaches into a pocket on his suit and retrieves an alien looking holopad.
“This is footage taken a year and a half ago, in our home…” he says, calling up a video “…will it work on your…?” he gestures to the wall.
I gesture a ‘go ahead’ and he flicks it to the wall which has no problem replaying the alien file.
What appears is… precisely the same species of animal… slender and gracile, with its purple integument, feline face and black eyes… only this one, rather than standing on a savannah, is standing in the middle of what is clearly a living space… excitedly jumping from side to side, making *yargh**yargh* vocalisations while looking down on a Human infant, around half the size of the prey animal in the previous clip.
The child shrieks at the animal in what must be a sound of terror!
My stomachs drop as I imagine the horrific carnage that is about to be visited upon this sapient infant… only it doesn’t come… the creature doesn’t attack the infant it could easily kill!
The child jumps up and down, matched by the monster, and continues her nonsense vocalisations.
Then the mother, the woman sitting before me, passes through the back of the shot, her face turned toward the scene, but her body isn’t and her expression reads as… mirth!?
“Why are you showing me this?!” I demand, standing “Why didn’t you try to help your infant!?”
“Calm down, Captain…” reassures the woman “…It’s alright. We didn’t help Vahatra because she didn’t need help… She and Sarobidy were playing!”
“Lemaka Cheetahs are a popular pet on our planet.” explains the man.
At the same time, his wife reappears in frame and scoops up both the animal and her daughter with apparently delighted vocalisations emanating from all three, the infant shrieking, the woman laughing, the monster *nyargh*ing as it seems to try and fail to gnaw through the skin on the side of her face!
“There’s my girls!” comes the voice of the male Ambassador from behind the camera.
The viewing angle changes as he stands and approaches the three, entering the frame from the left and bending down to press his lips against the woman’s over the infant’s head.
The man ends the playback and I sit in stunned silence for a few moments.
“Err… Captain?… You alright?” asks the woman, hesitantly.
“You’re deathworlders…” I mumble, desolately.
“We’re what?” smiles the man, confused.
“You. are. deathworlders!” I answer, miserably.
“What’re…?”
“I thought the planet had to be miscategorised if you’d settled it… then I saw that it wasn’t… I thought you must have settled it in ignorance of what it was or because you had no other choice… but you clearly didn’t… You settled that planet because you didn’t see anything wrong with it at all… because you come from somewhere just as bad… or worse… With this, there can be no doubt…” I gesture to the still image of the woman casually holding a vicious predator on the wall “…the way you handle monstrous animals like playthings, the way you say you’ve tamed AI… the way you weren’t killed when I fell on you…”
With a worried puff the woman answers “We weren’t killed because while you’re big, you’re light and the gravity is super low on your ship… that doesn’t seem…”
“I’m not light, though!” I say, frantically “I am a bull male Ulat!… Ula is a Class 8! I mass more than [100kg]! The gravity on this ship is 1.4 Galactic Standard for my species’ comfort! Any other sapients your size would have been killed by one as substantial as me falling on them the way I fell on you! You weren’t even injured!… You’re deathworlders… that’s the only explanation…”
“Slow down, Captain…” says the man, gesturing with a long fingered hand “…what are deathworlders and why would it be such a problem if we were them?”
“…Life bearing planets are categorised into a scale, Class 1 to Class 12+, based on the presence and severity of threats to sapient life on them. A deathworld is any planet above a Class 10, thought to be both incapable of producing sapients or allowing their settlement. There has never been a sapient deathworld species before… until now…” I sigh, gesturing miserably across the table to them.
“O…K… that… does explain a lot about why its taken us so long to realise we aren’t alone in the universe but… what’s the issue?” asks the woman.
“The issue is that everyone is going to be terrified of you!” I cry out, frustratedly “They’re going to think you’re monsters! They’re going to be looking for reasons to hate you! Every single unsavoury or unscrupulous thing your species has ever done is going to be pored over until we find a casus belli… It will mean war, for certain…”
The man gives a sombre smile and asks “Are you terrified of us, Captain?… Do you think we’re monsters?… Do you want war?”
“No!” I thump “But, that’s different… I’m an Ulat… my people are renowned for bravery… and I’ve met you…”
“Then…” shrugs the woman “…we’ll just have to come with you… and meet everyone else!”
“No! You can’t!” I say, panicking “I would be sentencing you to death if I were to bring you to Citadel! I won’t do it!”
“OK, alright, we won’t ask you to, then…” soothes the man “…but… if you can see we aren’t monsters… surely others will too? They can look at the information on there…” he points to the drive on the table “…and see that we’re people just like them… and you’ll be there to tell them what we’re like, won’t you!… I’m sure that cooler heads will prevail!”
---[2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF]---
“No…!” I gasp as I awake, my left hand shooting into the air above the sturdy bed, in the room I moved into [12 days] ago.
It takes some moments before my breathing slows and my hearts stop beating like drums.
I place my large arms on the bed and use them to leverage up my enormous bulk.
I walk to the mirror and see the face of a man with more than 20 trillion ghosts draped about his neck.
“Time to get dressed…” I groan, wearily “…white, for today…”