The Nature of Predators 2-2 (Patreon)

Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist

Date [standardized human time]: March 13, 2160

The alien stood in silence after pronouncing those series of words in our dialect, waiting as we processed its message. Its two partners stood behind it, with the shortest one especially seeming deferential. I gawked at the visitors, setting aside all thoughts of approaching them with numbers and a slow exchange of vocabulary. Some of the clicks sounded strange from its vocal cords, reverberating with strength and power, but the usage was spot on. We needed to have a way to respond to them now, and I’d never even thought what to say! It had been a possibility that I ruled out as fantastical, imagining how different they would be.

What was I supposed to think of them knowing our language? They must either be able to learn unfathomably quickly through some kind of cognitive transference, or they’d been monitoring us for quite a while. The latter seemed the most plausible, but then again, this entire premise of this scenario shouldn’t have been plausible. If they had been present, observing us like our scientists would track a school of fish…that, coupled with their words, meant they didn’t bear us any ill will.

It was possible they’d been here for a much longer duration, watching our entire societal history play out. These were advanced lifeforms after all, with capabilities that allowed them to travel light years through space! Perhaps they were progenitors of life in this star system; for all we knew, these were our very creators. I thought about their entity’s name, “The Sapient Coalition.” It sounded like an alliance of numerous species, and it didn’t follow that they’d evolved on the same world. Wait…were they inviting us to join a galactic community?

We have to be on our best behavior. Naltor needs to call off his guns, and play nice; we’re directly communicating with multiple worlds.

“Welcome to Ivrana,” I managed, a stupefied croak that barely escaped my beak. “We’re honored to have you here. Uh…may I ask how you know our language?”

Several barks escaped the tall, slender figure’s chest. “We got your messages, and observed your world for several years to assess the best way to approach contact; don’t worry, we’re familiar with your culture, so you won’t cause us any offense. Might I say, Journey Beneath the Ice is a great movie!”

General Naltor blinked in confusion. “You watched Journey Beneath the Ice?”

“A…guilty pleasure. I can sense the nasty looks from my colleagues, but we humans…we like to keep it light. Forgive me. To answer your question, we do have language model-driven translator technology, which decoded your four primary languages. However, to avoid any misunderstandings, mistranslations, and clunky machines, our team learned to speak Vrit fluently. It took ten years. It’s really hard to teach those damn machines idioms and wordplay…as I’m sure you, a species that’s had the internet for decades, can imagine.”

They are nothing like I imagined they would be. Wow. I…I need to sit down.

“We can imagine,” I managed, trying not to swoon. “You…you spent ten years of your life learning our language, just to speak to us with minimal confusion? We’re honored.”

“We’re honored to be here. This is the Coalition’s…first time initiating a first contact scenario, so forgive us if we’re not the smoothest at it,” the puffy-backed creature spoke, in a lighter voice. “I think we should introduce ourselves and our respective species, Dustin.”

The tall creature paused, thinking for several seconds. “Yes, I think we should. I’m Dustin Curtis, and I’m a xenobiologist. Discovering lifeforms from across the galaxy has been my calling; I confess, I’m itching to get a look at your wildlife up close, once we become friends. As you might’ve cued in on, I’m a human…from the planet Earth.”

“I’m Nulia. I have a doctorate in sociology, so let’s say I’m the one who’s analyzed your national relations. I’m a Gojid, technically from the cradle, but I’ve lived on Skalga since I was a small child,” the mid-sized one chimed in.

The shortest alien hesitated, before piping up tentatively. “I’m Haliska. I’m here because my species is the only semiaquatic race in the Sapient Coalition, so we share your love for water. For what it’s worth, the humans, despite being land mammals through and through, adore the ocean too. My species is the Thafki, and we…live on the Commune. Our homeworld was destroyed, long ago.”

“Your homeworld was destroyed?” My gasp of horror escaped a moment later, as I tried to imagine Ivrana just being…gone. The way Haliska said it so calmly was concerning; I didn’t know what this “Commune” was either. “Forgive me if I’m being insensitive, but what happened?”

“Did someone attack your planet?” General Naltor asked, disregarding all notions of tact.

Haliska’s tail twitched with sadness. “If I told you what happened without context, it would alarm you…let me clarify that the species that did that to my homeworld has been isolated from the rest of the galaxy, and are monitored by the SC. I’m afraid my planet was bombed…and our old allies did nothing to help us. Humans rescued some of our, um, hostages, and have helped us build an official Commune as something to call our own. It’s a long story, and I…don’t want to sour first contact.”

“You’re not souring anything. We appreciate your honesty, and I’m sorry that’s happened to the Thafki,” I jumped in hastily, feeling a mix of shock and sympathy at this appalling story. “I am worried by much of this history you’ve described.”

Naltor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I’m glad that my scientific friend shares my concerns. I also noted it was mentioned that you’ve never initiated a first contact, despite the fact you all know each other. Am I correct in assuming you had some major conflict?”

“You can say that again,” Dustin muttered. “The SC is a newer organization. I’m afraid the galaxy’s recent history is troubled, but I assure you that we’ve come here, in the hopes of starting something better. It’s of the utmost importance to us that we help you, yet minimize our impact on your culture. We wanted to come to you with honesty, while also not overwhelming you or stunting your individuality.”

It was interesting to hear the human address Naltor’s colonization fears, by expressing that they wanted to avoid a Nelmin situation. The Selmer general folded his flippers in front of his thick blubber, scrutinizing the aliens with caution. He hesitated, before signaling for the military assets to stand down; I noticed the visitors’ posture relax. From what they’d just described about there being a major conflict in the stars, I imagined they would recognize any type of weapon. It wasn’t unlikely that they knew about our own history, and had studied our military from above as well. Part of me was…disappointed that these species were plagued by the same strife up in the stars that we were down here.

What was the cause of this major conflict, one so horrible that entire worlds were destroyed? What brought the war to an end…and what happens if this quarantined species gets past the Sapient Coalition?

The positives were that these beings were interested in communicating with us, and had expressed multiple times that they didn’t mean us any harm. While I could tell that General Naltor wanted to press them on this war issue, and gather the entirety of the details, I wanted to learn more about why they decided to contact Lassmin before any other nation. There was evidence this wasn’t by chance; the aliens had found our probe, and Nulia indicated they knew our factional tendencies. There was a great deal that they could teach Bissems, even if their minds were less beyond us than I envisioned…but we’d have to find a way to juggle competing interests on Ivrana first.

The last thing we needed was to be at each other’s throats; it wouldn’t take much for the Selmer, Vritala, and Tseia nations to turn on their counterparts. With literal visitors from another world, some naïve voice in my brain prayed to Hirs that we would see the folly in our squabbles. However, if that meant that we’d just unify our guns against other planets, as it seemed had happened among these aliens…I wasn’t sure that was any different. I hoped we could find a way to make the Sapient Coalition into friends of Bissems from all subspecies, and to make them not regret opening up the galactic community.

There were thousands of questions about much lighter topics at the tip of my tongue: how many aliens were out there? What were their cultural and anatomical quirks; their greatest achievements and homeworld marvels? How did their spacefaring technology grant them the means to violate the speed limit of the universe…or did it? Dustin, Nulia, and Haliska couldn’t have known about FAI’s messages any earlier than two decades ago, no matter how close their star was. That meant they were either within a few light-years of our space (accounting for the signal’s dispersal time and their travel), or they had FTL mechanisms.

“Excuse me, miss?” Haliska prompted. “What’s your name?”

Blood rushed to my forehead from embarrassment. “I apologize, I got lost in my thoughts. There’s so many things I could ask you. I’m Dr. Tassi from FAI, and this is General Naltor of the Lassian Military.”

“Dr. Tassi! Don’t worry, there’ll be time to ask us absolutely anything you want,” Dustin chuckled. “I’d like to thank your military friend for not shooting us.”

Nulia sighed in exasperation. “Don’t joke about that!”

“Oh, I’m not joking. We definitely spooked these guys…I think we still have. I thought it’d be a simple invitation, if they wanted to meet with us. I’m sorry for any alarm our presence has caused you. We’re sentimental bastards; we like to do things personal, face-to-face. If you for some reason want us to leave, just ask, and we’ll go right now.”

“Do not leave.” Naltor’s words were all but an order, and I cringed at how he spoke to the aliens. “Why Lassmin? Why did you pick us?”

“You had the space program, and you’re also the closest thing to a union of all Bissems,” Haliska answered. “The Confederation of Vrital and the Merlei Huddledom haven’t given a shit about space in over a century.”

Never thought I’d hear casual profanity at first contact, but let’s just waddle with it.

“We thought about landing in Nelmin, since it’s off-limits—forbidden for any settlements because of the Nel Armistice,” Nulia remarked. “That would be neutral ground, but it’s also a sore spot to start our relations. We wouldn’t want to risk you fighting about whether to return at all.”

Dustin made a strange gesture with his appendage. “Haliska didn’t mention the third grouping, so I feel obligated to touch on it. We’re aware of how well the Tseia Nomads react to visitors trying to land on Alsh…and that’s with other Bissems. They’re reclusive in the best of times, so I can’t say how they’d take to us. We like our spaceships without an ICBM in the hull.”

“You’re smart on that front. Unpredictable, shifty fucks do what they want, when they want,” Naltor mumbled.

I shot the Selmer general a concerned look. “Let’s not refer to other Bissems that way around the aliens? Common sense. They’re here to speak to all of us.”

“We are. I’ll tell you what a very wise leader told our species, when we bumbled out to deep space; we’re not here to take sides, show favoritism, or meddle in your conflicts.” Dustin ducked his head, rubbing his digits against the back of his neck in a self-soothing way. “Sort it out among yourselves, but you get one embassy. Ivrana is one entity to us, because we don’t have the diplomatic bandwidth for anything more.”

“Lassmin has been seeking Bissem Unity for years, but we can’t control the others!” Naltor spat.

“I don’t think we need to decide on any hierarchies right now.” I interceded hastily, not wanting to have the aliens believe we couldn’t get along. It had been kind of Dustin not to judge us for warring amongst ourselves, but it seemed his kind had moved past that at first contact; we needed to as well. “Question on the spacesuits, if you don’t mind. Is our environment not breathable for you? Or is it to prevent microorganism contamination?”

Dustin and Haliska seemed to share a glance beneath their helmets, while Nulia tried to give the appearance of being distracted. My innocuous question, to pivot away from the topic of Bissem acrimony, seemed to have touched a nerve. It was possible the aliens looked drastically different from us, and were concealing their anatomy to avoid frightening us; they could have six eyes, no skin, or something altogether “horrifying.” They also might not want to tip off their vulnerabilities, if it had to do with a toxin in our world’s atmosphere. It was as if the human was a bit nervous.

What is he frightened of: that we’ll weaponize whatever we learn about his species? If it was just microorganisms, he’d say it.

“Microbes can’t jump between alien species; biology varies too much from world-to-world,” Nulia answered. “It’d pose no risk to you. The proof is the hundreds of years we’ve been in contact with each other, though we ran simulations just to be certain.”

Haliska thumped her tail on the ground. “Your atmosphere is breathable to us as well; we all are dependent on oxygen. If we landed in Merlei Huddledom territory on the poles, that would pose an environmental hazard. None of us are suited to that kind of cold, but other than that, no standard environment on Ivrana should be dangerous to us.”

Dustin stiffened, digits curling with reluctance. “It feels early to take off the suits, before you’ve truly gotten to know us.”

“We’re asking because we truly wish to get to know you,” I prompted. “You said yourself that your kind likes relations personal, face-to-face, yet you’ve obscured your features.”

“It’s…complicated. I…I think that Haliska and Nulia should start.”

Nulia hesitated, before popping off her helmet and sliding out of the suit. Thick, brown fur enveloped her features, along with some sort of spikes attached to her spine; the claws were both slender and lengthy, presenting an additional natural threat. It didn’t seem that she could sprint well, given how stout her legs were. There was nothing especially alien about her, with the same quantity and layout of features as standard life on our homeworld. Her brown irises were warm as they stared back at us, reflecting sunlight with cool warmth.

Haliska risked a glance at the enraptured soldiers, many of who were as absorbed in this pivotal moment as I was. She shimmied out of her own suit, standing well below the Gojid; the Thafki had a bluish-gray coloration, twitching whiskers atop cream patches on her chin, and webbed feet not dissimilar to our own. That matched with the story of her semiaquatic origins; the lithe form of her body and tapered shape of her tail were perfect for swimming. Overall, these two creatures were agreeable to the eyes, which meant the problem must be with Dustin. What was the human concerned about?

“Well, shit. Here goes,” the final masked alien muttered.

Dustin’s hands drifted up to his helmet, and Naltor scrutinized him as he slowly removed the helmet. The creature’s rosy lips wobbled with nerves, as he trained two eyes directly at me; this species had a narrower scope of vision, best suited to depth perception. I did note how large the unpigmented portion of his sclera was: curious. His other features were even more peculiar, with a massive, triangular nose that jutted out of the center of his face. His ears were circular, with cartilage folded in swirling patterns that I’d never seen before. There was no fur on his face, or seemingly further down his neck, but tangled, brown hair sprouted atop his head.

He looks the most alien, but not especially frightening. His skin looks soft and delicate.

It didn’t escape my notice how Haliska and Nulia seemed relieved, when none of us reacted poorly to Dustin. The human’s eyes fluttered, warming as he saw he wasn’t being rebuffed. Granted, most of my wild assumptions about these aliens had been wrong so far, since this hadn’t been anything like my imagined first contact scenarios. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had judged his species for something. This trepidation about merely showing his face wasn’t natural.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I offered, in the most gracious voice I could muster. “Naltor, what would you say to extending these aliens a proper welcome?”

General Naltor’s beak parted with alarm. “I would say if we organize the necessary preparations, and then transport these aliens somewhere we can host festivities, there’s no way to stop it from getting out to the public!”

“We wanted you to have the opportunity to announce the news yourselves, but if I may, they’re going to find out eventually,” Dustin commented. “Forgive my forwardness, but we’re not going to play a part in hiding anything from the masses. It goes against our founding principles.”

Haliska lashed her tail. “There’s nothing to fear. People adjust more quickly than you might think to their new reality. You’d be amazed what they…can adjust to. Believe me, I would know.”

“I agree that we should be transparent with the public, sir.” I raised my flippers for emphasis, hoping to show the sincerity in my words. “This is something all Bissems have the right to know. I understand you wanted to protect the people, at first, but I don’t believe our visitors are a threat.”

“I suppose livestreaming it on the internet would make the dumbfucks in the other nations less inclined to do anything stupid,” Naltor grumbled. “What’s that look for, Tassi? Ah, right, I shouldn’t have said ‘dumbfucks.’ I meant the ‘nice people’ in other nations.”

The human flashed his teeth briefly, earning a lingering glance from me; they weren’t impressive dental structures, but it was an odd expression to display at this time. I was keen on learning the aliens’ nonverbals. While it was helpful that they’d learned our own to avoid any misunderstandings, what appeared to be a threat display by our zoological standards was an example of why we needed to learn theirs. Dustin covered his mouth with a sheepish expression, noticing that Naltor had returned to an alert posture.

“I apologize. My species has the…odd habit of curving our lips upward when we’re amused or happy. It’s a sign of submissiveness and goodwill, believe it or not. It’s instinctual, so despite how other species admonish us, it’s difficult to control. I can put the helmet back on if it makes you uncomfortable,” the xenobiologist said.

I raised a flipper to reassure him. “Nonsense. You’re an alien; of course, you evolved with different expressions than us. Now that we know what it means, I’m sure Naltor won’t take it as a challenge.”

The general scoffed. “I was not going to contest the alien’s strength, even if he was provoking me. I just wasn’t going to let myself seem intimidated. Why don’t we bring these aliens onto a transport, make an announcement to the public, and set up a feast replete with the finest delicacies?”

“A feast?” Haliska whispered, with a tone that seemed fearful.

“We should stay that offer. We don’t know the aliens’ customs around mealtime, or whether they’d be able to eat our food. It is a bit presumptive, Naltor,” I said hastily, wanting to cover whatever faux pas we’d committed against the Thafki. “Perhaps they don’t like excess or wasting food, or they’re private. Maybe they only share food with close friends…or maybe they don’t eat at all.”

Dustin shot the bluish-gray alien a smoldering glare. “We know how central fishing is to Bissem culture, and how hospitable it is for them to extend an invitation to a feast. Don’t we?”

“Yes. Of c-course we do,” Haliska whimpered.

“It’s no different from the humans,” Nulia assured the Thafki quietly. “We accept this now, ever since the deconversions. You know that I’m uncured.”

Uncured? Deconversions? What the fuck are they talking about?

“I feel like there’s something I should know about here.” General Naltor eyed the visitors with concern, thinking the same thing by my assessment. “I didn’t mean to cause any offense. I was trying to celebrate your arrival.”

The human bobbed his head from side-to-side. “No, you didn’t cause us any offense. Your invitation was quite kind, and we’ll accept it if you're still willing to extend it. There’s some…complicated matters that we’ll explain to you in due time, but I’d prefer not to get into our full baggage today. What I will say is that none of our allied species subsist solely on meat, so I must ask if it’s possible for you to accommodate us with some vegetable fare? I know your bodies aren’t adapted for eating it, but…”

“Of course, we should’ve asked about that. It’s hard to think of food as not fish,” I responded. There’s something much deeper going on here, but I haven’t figured out what. “We have some sea plants and a small selection of land vegetables for our fish farms. That’s what we’d be able to bring in on short notice. It’s not a massive selection, but we should have no problem accommodating your needs.”

“Great. Thanks,” a queasy-looking Haliska replied.

Hesitation flickered in Naltor’s eyes, debating whether to press the aliens. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements; the FAI convention center should be perfect. I’m sure the rest of Tassi’s fellow scientists will be delighted to chip in, work shifts be damned. Shall we head to the vehicles?”

Dustin dipped his head. “Lead the way.”

The Selmer general clasped his flippers behind his back, and strode over to the convoy we’d come from. My mind was dazed from everything that had unfolded, but a mystery had made itself plain to me. As tempted as it was to zero in on cultural details, I needed to devote some focus to learning the details of the strange attitudes relating to the human and the feast.

A/N - Chapter 2! First contact proceeds with introductions, as we see Dustin and Nulia returning, alongside a water-loving Thafki named Haliska; the landing party explains how long they've observed Ivrana, how they know the language and customs, as well as their roles and intentions. The Bissems react positively to the aliens' appearance, paying little mind to Dustin's binocular eyes. General Naltor and Doctor Tassi opt to throw a feast in the aliens' honor, which gives them the hint from Haliska's behavior that something isn't quite right--and it's more than differing diets.

How will the Bissems react when they find out the full scope of the galaxy's history? How do you expect this feast, complete with fish entrees, to play out?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!