Memory Transcription Subject: Chief Executive Officer Sifal, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 25, 2137

  I leaned against the window of the shuttle as we were flown back towards the main spaceport where I’d left my fellow Arxur to set up camp. I wasn’t tired, just exhausted. There’s a difference. I didn’t want to go to sleep just yet, but I did want to turn my brain off for a little while. Maybe read a nice distracting book, or do something mindless with my hands. I’d have to see what kind of accommodations the hab facility we’d erected had. I should have requested a rec room or a human-styled kitchen when I asked them to set it up. I should have requested a lot of things. It was going to take some getting used to, being in charge of everyone in my immediate vicinity. Vriss was probably already halfway back to the fleet by now and couldn’t help me anymore. It was all on me now. What a shockingly sudden final exam on leadership for me. Time to sink or swim.

  We touched down a bit jerkily--I was letting Zillis fly for practice; she seemed to be enjoying it--and let the hatches drift open. A somewhat boxy-looking Arxur saluted as we stepped out. I looked around in confusion. It was getting dark out, but I could still see just fine. And yet I couldn’t see the hab facility.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  The boxy male responded. “Sorry, ma’am. We weren’t sure where you wanted the hab facility set up, so I had it moved about a ten minute walk that way. I figured, if this was a stealth mission, you probably didn’t want Arxur visibly hanging around the place where the prey land to pick up cargo.”

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought of that. I’d promised Vriss I would prioritize operational security! End of my first day of real leadership, and I was already missing little details. “Good thinking,” was all I said aloud. I looked the man over. “I’m still putting names to faces…”

  The other Arxur nodded. “Lieutenant Kloviss. Weapons and Tactical, ARS Dominator.”

  “Right, I remember your file,” I said, thinking back to my personnel meeting with Vriss this morning. It was difficult to sniff out which of us might be hiding some secretly empathic tendencies, but Kloviss was notably even-tempered. Lessened aggression was a good place to start looking. It also meant Kloviss had probably been picked for another particular planetside mission. “The night air is a nice change of pace,” I said, by way of small talk. “I haven't been off the ship since Earth. Did you get a chance to see the human homeworld, Kloviss?”

  “I did,” he said. “Fleet deployed me to the smaller of the two supercontinents. The Americas, I think they were called.”

  I nodded. “Myself as well. Which city?”

  “Guadalajara,” Kloviss said. He seemed disinterested in the conversation overall, but he licked his lips as he mentioned the city name. I tried not to look too proud of myself for spotting that.

  “I was posted in London,” Laza chimed in as well, trying to avoid being left out. That was one suspicion confirmed. Where else would she have gone that she’d learned how to misidentify a sausage roll at a glance?

  Zillis notably said nothing, but I wasn’t sure if that was a “no” or just shyness. We were all head and shoulders above her in rank as well as physicality. I was tempted to make the effort to include her in the conversation… but my hunch was that she’d be more comfortable just listening. I’d let her get a bit more acclimated to dipping her toes in the social waters before I pulled her in for a swim.

  “I deployed to New York, personally,” I said. “I must say, I miss the food. The local cuisine was fantastic. Did you get a chance to try anything in Guadalajara?”

  Kloviss nodded slowly. “Some human farmers came in from the outskirts of the province to feed their people, and ours. They brought one of their cattle species with them, an animal called a ‘goat’. After butchering them, the locals would cook the creatures, whole, for hours in a smokey hole they’d dug in the ground. They made a big public social event out of eating it together.” He licked his lips again. “It had a curious flavor. I could stand to taste it again.”

  I blinked. Live prey, openly? And from one of the Venlil-looking species? That wasn’t the story David had told me. “I thought humans grew their meat in bioreactors these days,” I said, more noncommittally.

  Kloviss shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his tail was held stiffly, like he was trying too hard to keep it from wagging. “Human cultural norms seem to vary from nation to nation. In any case, the goats were hardy creatures that could graze nearly anywhere.” His eyes drifted off towards the mostly barren landscape around us. “They’d probably thrive even on moss-caked rocks like these,” he mused aloud.

  Was that a burgeoning hobby interest of his, then? “That might not be a bad idea,” I observed. “Would add a bit of variety to our diets, and I’m sure a few of us are itching to hunt something again. Can’t exactly get the thrill of the chase from a vat-grown ham.”

  Kloviss’s maw stayed facing forwards, but his eyes had flitted to the side, staring at me with cautious eagerness. “I agree, ma’am,” he said slowly, “though you’d need someone with a good deal of self-control to oversee such a project. Can’t overhunt the creatures if we want to establish a thriving population for the long-term.”

  I smirked. Another Arxur colonist, another new career. If our lost gods were willing, everyone would find something suitable for a life after the war. “I’ll see what we can get out of our next resupply from the U.N.,” I said casually. “In the meantime, I’ll forward you what documentation we have on the human techniques of animal husbandry.” And if I also slid a few recipes for pit-barbecued meat into that stack of documents, who knew what sort of ideas he might get?

  Kloviss looked at me with the baseline level of suspicion every Arxur got when someone who outranked them was being too nice--what was my angle, what was I plotting, and was this a trap or a cruel prank somehow?--but as the humans said, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll make a point of studying them, ma’am,” was all he said.

  The hab facility we’d be staying in for the time being loomed up before us as our walk and our conversation came to an end, and we each made our way to our own private quarters.

  Twenty Arxur colonists, soon to be twenty Arxur apostles of the New Way. As the days went by, I’d corrupt them all. Bit by bit, I'd make them learn how they could coexist with prey. How to live with each other, how to love each other, how to even exist in harmony after the war, which finally, for the first time in centuries, had a chance to end. My future hatchlings might actually get to grow up in a world without hunger or violence, and I could only dream of how wonderful such a world might be.

  But for now, it was just time for everyone to settle in for the night.

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  Memory Transcription Subject: Chairman Debbin, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 25, 2137

  I flopped down in a bed that must have looked comically huge for a man my size. I had enough room in there for five other people--two or three, if the women were as big as I tended to prefer.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mmm… Sifal, Laza, with a little room left for that shorter one, Zillis…

  I shuddered, and shook my head furiously. Nope, no, absolutely not. One day, maybe, but I was still tweaked out on adrenaline just from speaking with them today. I was going to have a rough time falling asleep having them on the same planet as me, let alone in the same bed.

  I took a few deep breaths and tried to scrounge up some peace of mind.

  Honestly, what a mess this had all been, even if it seemed, for now, to be a mess successfully contained. Ancestors spare me, what had I even been thinking, hiring Sifal on? A fit of black humor, and nothing more. How is a man meant to stare down the barrel of a gun and do anything but giggle hysterically? But I’d said what I said, and now the world had changed. An Arxur executive, running a Nevok company. Madness, perhaps, but if fortune favored me, it would be profitable madness.

  I rubbed my face against the nearest pillow, just massaging some feeling back into sore eyelids, and caught the idle scent of a previous night’s conquest. Now there was an idea. Another large… actually, no, perish the thought, but I think I’d honestly had enough of large women today. A small woman, then, with a large bottle of something sweet and crisp. I rolled over to the edge of the bed, snatched up my holopad, and made a call.

  It rang for longer than I would have expected, but she was probably busy on a night like this. Eventually, though, the lean face of a Letian appeared on the other end. “Why Chairman, what an unexpected surprise!” said Vivy. She looked like she’d stepped into the back room of the pub for privacy. I watched her eyes flick around through the display, trying to get a better look at me. “So good to see that you’re still in one piece.”

  I snorted. “Yes, I’ve managed to navigate that harrowing experience mostly intact so far,” I said, sighing. “I’m tense like an overwound spring, though. I thought I'd place a delivery order for a bottle of strongwine, and maybe someone pretty to pour it for me?”

  “Certainly, sir,” Vivy said immediately. “Shall I send over one of your usual girls, or…?”

  I tilted my head. “Actually, I was wondering what your schedule looked like this evening?”

  “My schedule?” Vivy’s eyes widened. I hadn’t asked for the Vice Queen herself in ages. She cracked the door behind her for a brief moment, just to peek back into the bar’s main room. It was packed to the rafters. Practically everyone on the planet wanted a drink this evening. But Vivy turned back to me. “I can clear it,” she said quickly. She stroked a pensive paw across the fur on her face. “I simply must hear all about your very exciting day…”

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  Memory Transcription Subject: Sopa, Mazic Aquaculturist

  Date [standardized human time]: January 25, 2137

  I tried, futilely, to hunch down in the corner of the taproom, cradling my glass of cider, but in grand Mazic tradition, it was impossible to make myself as small as I’d have liked. I was surrounded by friends, coworkers, and casual acquaintances, and yet the pressure in the room still felt oppressive. Too many people had had the same thought as me: when there’s nowhere left to run, run to the pub.

  The overall feeling in the room was a mix of shock and confusion, somehow, even more so than fear. The Arxur arriving was a thing of terror. The Arxur applying for jobs at the company was just plain baffling. And an Arxur CEO? Nobody knew what to make of it. It was like hearing an antimatter bomb had decided to become a dancer. It was incomprehensible, and it had everyone on edge.

  “I mean, I can’t say I blame them,” joked a Gojid, morbidly. Bori, I think his name was? I grew domesticated seaweed for a living. I worked near the longshoremen, as they pulled in boatloads of wild seaweed from the far kelp forests, but I didn’t often work with them. They’d just drop off seed samples and then leave. “If I could have applied for a job at gunpoint,” Bori continued, “I’d have gunned for C-suite, too.”

  Another dockworker nearby, a Takkan, made a disgusted noise. Cowlan. Not the best guy, but we’d swapped notes on skincare regimens once or twice. It was hard being furless, working in the salty air. He beckoned at the Gojid. “Hey buddy, how ‘bout you look over here for a second so I can smack the stupid out of you without impaling my fuckin’ hand?”

  “It’s madness,” a Krakotl muttered into her beverage, miserably. I didn’t know her name at all, not even at a guess. “It’s the world turned upside-down.”

  “Upside-down? Hey, you’d know, little Miss Barrel Roll,” joked Bori. It wasn't a great joke, but it didn't matter. He’d only turned his head for a second to say it, but Cowlin saw an opening and snuck in a quick backhand across the Gojid's snout. Bori leapt to his feet in a rage, his brown quills flaring. “Fuck was that for?!”

  Cowlin jumped to his feet as well, his gray-skinned muscles flexing. “This isn’t fucking funny, buddy! We’re all fucked! You know we’re all fucked!”

  Bori put a hand on the Cowlin’s shoulder. “Yeah, I do know. I know exactly how fucked we are. Because when the Arxur came for us? We Gojids stood and fought, and died like men, defending the herd. You Takkan cowards ran.”

  “Die like a man, then!” The Takkan threw a punch in a rage, and the Gojid turned his head slightly. The Gojid still reeled from the impact, but the Takkan’s hand came back pierced bloody with quills. “Ow, fuck! You spiny piece of shit!”

  “YOU TWO! OUTSIDE! NOW!” came an uncannily-loud roar from another Takkan, Kara, one of the barmaids, pointing at the two rabble-rousers. Most of us flinched at the volume, but we kept to our drinks overall, and prayed for the situation to pass. Nobody wanted that kind of stress right now. We just wanted to drink away the dread.

  Bori the Gojid put his paws in the air in a gesture of peace, even as the left side of his face was starting to swell up. “Hey, come on, tensions are a little high right now. Besides, can you blame us for getting a little aggressive? I hear the planet’s infested with predators now. On top of everything else, we’re all probably contaminated…” I shuddered. Honestly, of all the terrible things we needed to worry about, catching Predator Disease only just barely made the top five.

  “BE CONTAMINATED OUTSIDE, YOU FUCKS!” Kara shouted, pointing vigorously at the door. The two disruptive people grumbled, but left. This wasn’t the only bar on the planet, but it was, by far, the best one. They’d be missing out on the best drinks before our inevitable doom. And the best company, if that was your thing. It wasn’t mine, generally, but if it was my last day… or week, or month, or whatever alive, I idly wondered how much of my savings would be worth a night of passion. I’d been saving up for something more lasting--move back home, find a husband, raise a family--but I couldn’t deny the temptation of blowing money that I might never live to spend. I watched two Nevoks exchange credits by the bar and wander upstairs, with likely the same train of thought. It was a night of last nights, danced by bleak-faced people, searching for one last moment of happiness, who had no expectations to ever see tomorrow.

  Vivy, the Letian, and the actual owner of the establishment, came back out of the back room looking a strange mix of giddy and excited. “Kara, the Chairman’s asked for bottle service,” she said, gleefully. Not loudly, but my ears were large, and I was trying to tuck myself into the corner, not far from the door to the backroom.

  Kara’s eyes widened. “Oh! Alright, sure. Can I take a few minutes to freshen up, or…?”

  Vivy laughed, and leaned in to whisper, conspiratorially, but not so softly that I couldn’t hear. “No, I’m handling this one myself. You stay put. I need you to cover the bar while I go and figure out what that fluffy bastard has been hiding from us all.”

  Kara guffawed. “Yeah, get him talking, boss. I’ll hold down the fort as best I can.”

  “S’what I pay you for, girl,” Vivy said, chuckling, as she pulled down a top-shelf bottle and scampered off out the door.

  I watched the owner of the establishment go, not fully knowing what to make of it all. What to make of anything, really.

  “It’s all fucked,” the Kraktol repeated, shaking her head hopelessly, eventually dipping her beak back into her pint glass like a straw.

  For all I knew, it might be my last night alive, or very near to it. “I hear ya, girl,” I said bleakly. “Any chance you maybe wanna… talk about it upstairs?”