Memory Transcription Subject: Chairman Debbin, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 26, 2137

  Well, I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting out of Sifal, but ‘explain a potentially useful symbiotic polyculture and then devour an insectivorous fish’ was… frankly in the upper quartile of positive outcomes. Sure, I might need to coach her a bit on appropriate tone when conversing with prey, and I might need to take some personal time to unpack how flustered I was getting from watching her eat something non-sapient, but overall, I’d call it a success. That said, poor Sopa, our gigantic aquaculturist, was rapidly yet calmly backpedaling out of sight of the Arxur delegation.

  In Sopa’s place, the wizened violent primitive woman was approaching, but Jodi was casually walking down the beach towards us, still a good hundred or so meters away. I had a moment to chat. “Good work, Sifal,” I said, trying to lead with a compliment. “Unrelated, I, uh, wasn’t aware Arxur ate other predators.”

  The giant gray woman did a double-take and wheeled around on me. I took a reflexive step back. When she finished registering what I’d said, Sifal rubbed her eyes, tiredly. “Look, if you want the correct answer, go look through human science textbooks for children on the subject of the Food Chain. If you want the short version of what the mainline Arxur government believes--and, consequently, what most of the rebel Arxur here still retain as cultural preconceptions--there’s a tier list for predators, and you’re only ‘people’ if you’re at the top of it. Like, those little lizard-people, the Harchen? Federation herbivores, except no wait it turns out they’re omnivores that hunted bugs? We still don’t generally respect them any more than pure herbivores like Nevoks.”

  Sifal’s second, Laza, shrugged awkwardly. “Ehhh, I’ve heard chatter go back and forth, actually.”

  Sifal’s eyes widened with a surprised curiosity. “Really? Tell me more.”

  Laza gave another variation on a shrug. “I mean, setting aside the whole ‘fellow reptile’ thing, insectivory is still active hunting. It’s not scavenging like the Gojids or the Iftali.”

  Sifal nodded, slowly. “Sure, but the Chief Hunter’s official stance has been more focused on grading other species based on strength and behavior patterns. Right? Like remember his speech back during that one broadcasted public execution?”

  I choked on my own spit. Public executions? What the fuck was their day-to-day life like!?

  Laza shook her head. “I’m gonna need you to be a lot more specific, ma’am.”

  I screamed internally.

  “The one about the woman who threw her Gojid rations out the airlock because she thought eating an omnivore was cannibalism,” Sifal clarified. Laza nodded in recognition. “The Chief Hunter said it didn’t matter if Gojids ate meat or not. It only mattered if they were strong, instead of weak. If they were willing to fight, rather than wallowing in cowardice. I’ve been interpreting his words to imply a sort of amnesty for prey who don’t fear us.”

  Without pivoting away from their watch, the other Arxur’s heads tilted in curiosity, chewing over this new idea, and my own eyes widened. Respect for the bold? Duly noted, I filed away silently.

  Still, I stared at the water incredulously, and gestured at it. “Did that angry little wriggling thing not put up the best fight it could?”

  Sifal took a step back, and rubbed the underside of her maw. “I suppose so, but it’s still weak and non-sapient. I’ve mostly only been considering creatures who’ve mastered spaceflight.” She nodded towards the approaching Yotul. “Or at least were well on their way there when they were uplifted. Everyone in the Federation was at least at the level of metalworking and simple machines when they first joined, right?”

  I tried to recall what little I’d learned on the subject in school ages ago. I rattled off a few I could vaguely remember. “We Nevoks had complex looms, the Gojids had gunpowder, the Zurulians had antibiotics…” All very much in line with their ‘role’ in the herd, now that I thought about it. Hrm.

  Benwen perked up. “Oh! Um, actually, Miss Sifal, the Dossurs were so primitive when we found them that they’d barely gotten past rudimentary tool use.” He paused to lick his lips nervously. “Chipped stone, bits of wood. They were just too small to really do much more without our help. They can pilot starfighters just fine, though, now that we’ve taught them.” He held his paws pretty close together. “You just gotta make the controls tiny…”

  Sifal turned a bit pale, and looked back towards the water with an expression of worry and regret that I’d never expected to see on an Arxur before. Was she wondering if the fish had been sapient? “Noted,” she said. “Still. You guys should really know how to fight better. I’m beginning to suspect that the Kolshians may have actively conditioned you not to fight back.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a possibility,” I conceded. “If they’re really keeping the war going on purpose, then it’s certainly in the Kolshians’ best interest to keep us weak. I mean… don’t we outnumber you guys hundreds to one? Thousands, even? Ship for ship, those numbers should have been in our favor. We should have won ages ago. You know, unless we’ve been trained to lose on purpose.”

  Sifal sighed, and turned away towards the approaching prey swordswoman. “Yeah. That’s part of why this Yotul interests me so much. She’s precontact. What were you herbivores like before the Kolshians got to you? Maybe you were stronger. More worthy, as we Arxur tend to assess such things.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I had a hard couple of moments mulling the thought over before the primitive finished closing the distance.

  “Hi Miss Jodi!” said Benwen, waving.

  ‘Miss Jodi’ held a paw up and dipped her head. “Hey, Benwen. What’s got everyone all worked up?”

  “Oh!” Benwen tried his best to smile, but he was mimicking a human expression he’d only seen non-humans use. Copy of a copy of a copy… It looked off. “We’re talking about who does and doesn’t count as people!”

  Jodi froze mid-step. Her eye twitched, briefly. And she turned fully around and walked back the way she came.

  “Wait, no, come back!” Sifal shouted, chasing after her.

  Sopa, nearly a quarter kilometer away at this point, bolted.

  Memory Transcription Subject: Deputy Security Director Garruga, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 26, 2137

  To spite me, the sun rose again.

  I’d failed in my duty in every way conceivable--my planet conquered, my colleagues subjugated--and I’d broken myself trying. There was a certain honor in that, I supposed, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I was dizzy, dehydrated, and direly needed to use the restroom. I had no idea if my legs could hold my weight yet, though, and the casts prevented me from bending them in any event. I was helpless, trussed up like a fresh meal for my roommate here in the infirmary. An Arxur physician, of all the ridiculous things. And here I’d thought that injured predators were left for dead by their kin. But I supposed it stood to reason that certain concessions to pragmatism were necessary to keep them as dangerous as they were.

  Tika, our new, albeit unconventional, Predator Disease specialist was stirring softly in the morning light. Zurulians were among the smallest members of the Federation--larger than a hoof-sized Dossur, obviously, but still barely larger than my head--so Tika had commandeered a spare pillow from the linen closet and curled up on a desk overnight. She had a room, surely, but she’d said she missed the feeling of a med bay. That was Zurulians for you. Every single one was either a medical professional, or had a long-winded story about why they weren’t.

  Of course, it wasn't like other species didn't have doctors of their own. The door opened, and our colony's lead medic shuffled in. Doctor Wylla crept slowly into the infirmary, touching her tiny hooves as gently to the floor as she could for the sake of silence. Speaking from personal experience, some rubber boots over your hooves were a must-have on stealth operations--probably more sanitary than going out bare in a medical wing, frankly--but like most Nevoks, the only garb Doctor Wylla wore was a vest. White and long was the standard for lab coats, but hers was shorter, barely reaching her hips, with a fanciful pattern of pastels that evoked the idea of white while showing off her personal wealth in the form of dyes and embroidery. I didn't know what she was doing on Seaglass. She seemed too normal, too proper society. Not the sort of woman who'd end up in a haven for wayward souls on the fringes of civilized space.

  No, I don't think I'll go over how I ended up here myself.

  “Is it still asleep?” came a frantic whisper from Doctor Wylla.

  “He’s snoring,” I said. “Beyond that, I have no idea.”

  Tika yawned, and sat up. “Just check the monitors.”

  Doctor Wylla’s ears pinned back. “I don't want to get any closer than I…” She stopped whisper-shouting mid-thought. “Wait, who are you!? What are you doing in here?”

  “Doctor Tika, Predator Disease.” The Zurulian woman said, by way of introduction. “General Medicine, I presume?”

  The Nevok woman grimaced. “Yes, yes, Doctor Wylla, general medicine, pleased to meet you. So, speaking as a Predator Disease specialist, what do you make of our furless patient?”

  Tika glanced over at Kitzz. “In my professional opinion, I think that's a predator.”

  “An excellent observation, Doctor Tika,” said Wylla, twitching. “What do we do with it?!”

  “Well, I might suggest referring to the patient using his preferred pronouns, for starters,” Tika said, licking at her paws.

  “Use his--!?” Wylla's jaw dropped open. “Ancestors spare me, you cannot be serious right now!”

  “Oh, you'll find I take medical ethics and patient advocacy quite seriously, I'm afraid,” Tika said, dryly.

  Wylla rubbed her face in exasperation. “Okay. Fine. What do we do with him, then?”

  Tika let out a little breath of air like she was thinking out loud. “Oh… I don't know. Probably check his vitals, change his wound dressings, that sort of thing? It's not really my specialty. Probably need to feed the patients, don't we?”

  “I would kill for some fruit juice right now,” I said, my voice raspy from a lack of fluids. “Specifically him, if you like? Just kindly fetch me my sidearm.”

  “No.” Tika had a firm air of finality. “No weapons in the infirmary.”

  Wylla rubbed her temples and tried to recalibrate to this new normal. “Okay. So. Short of drawing lots about who's going to climb into his mouth, where are we getting an appropriate hospital meal for an Arxur?”

  Tika pawed at her mouth in thought. “Well, I suppose I have his commander’s contact information for a reason. I'll ask.”

  I coughed. “In the meantime, could I please get that fruit juice? I also direly need to use the restroom.”

  Tika put her holopad back down. “Oh! In that case, I'll help you up.”

  The sheer size difference between Tika and I made her offer preposterous. If she wanted to move me, she'd need a forklift.

  Wylla stared at us both and sighed. “Fine. I'll ask one of the Takkan orderlies to come in early.”

  “Splendid idea!” said Tika, preening. “See, I knew you had it in you. You call that orderly, then, and I'll see about sourcing some breakfast for our other patient.”

  Wylla shook her head and pulled out her own holopad. “Honestly, Doctor Tika… Something about you just puts people too out of sorts to be properly terrified,” she muttered.

  Tika smiled coyly, as she pulled up the contact information for Commander Sifal. “Thank you, Doctor Wylla, I try.”