The Nature of Predators - Star Crossed (1/13)

Memory Transcription Subject: Chloe de Vries, United Nations Consultant

Date [standardized human time]: January 5, 2150

The start of a new year was often when people on Earth tried to usher in change, though few had resolutions that took them as far away from home as I was going. When I’d applied for the position around Aafa’s orbit, I hadn’t expected to get it; my only training was an online webinar program that was the most basic requisite for any diplomatic role post-first contact. The upfront signing bonus they were willing to pay for only a month of guaranteed work, in addition to the starting salary, was a red flag, of course. There clearly was a shortage of humans who wanted to preside over Kolshians, interacting with them on a day-to-day basis.

There weren’t enough Terrans in general to go everywhere that needed aid, but…still! I assumed there would’ve been more requirements, though I figured they could train me on the fly. As soon as I’d boarded the shuttle for the station, there was no getting out of it. It had to be fine; they wouldn’t just leave me to sink-or-swim in a sensitive situation, with beings that weren’t human. How did that ever become normal to the folks in the big cities? It didn’t feel like any of our millions of years of evolution were tailored toward interacting with sapients that weren’t our own kind.

The fact was, I’d never even spoken to an alien. In total, I think I’d only seen two of them back home in the Netherlands. While there was mass immigration to Earth from a variety of species, most settled in the larger nations, or in United Nations hotspots such as Vienna. EU countries like mine had a number of programs to draw in extraterrestrials, but even so, those initiatives rarely included small towns; I was agoraphobic, so I avoided the cities like the plague. To go from never saying hello to a Venlil, to processing asylum requests from the much-less-cute species that radicalized the galaxy: it was an overwhelming prospect.

“Thank you for flying with TASS: Terran Automated Spaceships is the proud choice of the United Nations, serving Earth in her mission of humanitarian outreach! Sapient Coalition funding keeps our flights to all corners of the galaxy alive, so we need the support of people like you. Please leave a positive note with your embassy contact about the quality of your flight,” an artificial voice read out, startling me.

I placed my two bags at the ready—one for each hand, carrying everything I’d need for an extended duration living above a quarantined world. This was definitely my first time in space, and the infinite blackness was rather unsettling; it was an unspeakable amount of emptiness that made me feel dissociated from myself. This would be my only view from the station, a complex that orbited Aafa’s moon. Humanity had never relinquished control of the orbital defenses, even after forcing the natives to demilitarize. I found my eyes wandering toward the strange, cool-colored planet, in the hopes of something to latch on to.

That doesn’t help. Everything is too unfamiliar, or unnatural. We’re a long way from home, and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing out here.

A tremor passed through the walls as the vessel docked, ending the days-long journey. I tried to tell myself that I just had cabin fever, and that I’d acclimate to this eventually. A United Nations job was the best gig that anyone with my lack of qualifications could get; this was the chance to get some kind of career trajectory going. I’d fizzled out at too many attempted pursuits, whether it was being a failed bicyclist in university, a musician whose folk songs got all of ten views on EarthVid, or flunking out of engineering courses when I tried my hand at a “real” career. Maybe this was what I needed: a giant reset button, far away from my failures. Today would just be onboarding and training, after all, so I could make it through.

A young man with crisp black hair locked eyes with me as I dismounted, and he crossed the landing pad with bored disinterest. “Chloe de Vries? You’re the new consultant?”

“You could sound a bit more impressed,” I managed.

“Hmph. As if we’re not drowning in casework as-is; you don’t have the look of someone who’s been around the block.”

“Well, I haven’t been involved with anything like this before, but that means that I’m a blank slate to work with. It’s a little early to write me off.”

“Whatever. I’m Kenzo, and I’ve been asked to settle you in here. Walk with me.”

“I’m right behind you. I’m going to do my best to learn, and get up to speed so I can help with the workload. There’s a lot of…people depending on us, sounds like.”

Kenzo slanted his eyebrows down. “What’s there to learn? You interview them, type up what they say, and forward it to Immigration Services for their review. Most get turned around with a quick rejection, so you make them accept that and move on.”

“Yeah, I got that from the job posting. Hey, can you slow down a bit? You’re practically running…can’t you tell me a bit about this place, and what the Kolshians are like? Anything I should be aware of? Please. I’d really appreciate it.”

“It’s a small station. Offices are on this floor, sandwiched in the middle; living area on the top deck, and the guests stay down the lowest one. Upstairs, you sleep over on the left, while food and hanging out are on the right. Not that hard. You manage to get lost here and that’d be special.”

“Seems simple. But wait, that still leaves me with questions about the Kolshians. What are…what are they like? What’s it like for us, living here?”

Kenzo continued speedwalking through the hallway, despite my prior requests for him to slow down; I noticed the beefy security guards spread out across the premises, who gave him slight acknowledgment. Most of the office doors were closed, though I could catch a glimpse of a gelatinous pink blob through one that was cracked open. My fingers gripped tighter around my bag, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. The simple idea that we were speeding past Kolshians left me uneasy, and desperate for any crumb of information on how to deal with them. Their thoughts and emotions must be distinct from ours, as a separate species, and that was difficult to grapple with.

I wish I knew what this guy’s problem is, though it can probably just be chalked up to not wanting to deal with newbies. Still, it’s his job, and I need something to ground me. None of this feels real.

I stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, dropping my bag. “I’m not moving an inch until you pay me the basic courtesy of describing the Kolshians, and this place. Can’t you tell me a bit? It’s not that much of a chore.”

“Seriously? You want to do this right here, out in the open? Do you always ask this many questions, Chloe, the second you show up in a new place?”

“Only when I have zero idea what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Let me fill you in. We’re stuck in the ass-end of the Orion Arm, where there’s absolutely fuck all to do. I hope you like sitting on your holopad, because there’s nowhere to stretch your legs up here. No nights on the town, no entertainment, no outdoors. Just space, 365 a year.”

“That’s not a rave review. You don’t like it here.”

“Nobody does. I’m here to collect a paycheck, not because I care about the calamari’s sob stories. You know the heinous crimes they did, for centuries?! And they still act around humans like it’s the 30s—the species that tried to eliminate anything with a face like us, they come up here all the time. They’ll sit right across from you, and you’ll have to keep a level head. We locked these fuckers up for a reason.”

“The Kolshians can’t…all be evil. There was the one who saved Marcel; the UN holds parades for Recel. Besides, the Federation is gone now, along with everything they tried to do. We have them at our mercy, so it can’t be a big concern.”

“That’s a nice story. They can tell you the shadow caste is all gone, out of the picture, but nobody’ll ever know that for certain. All you need is one leftover to bebop up here with the cure, or a Nikonus apologist to bring up something much worse. You want my advice? Don’t get close to them, and don’t trust them.”

“I see.” That doesn’t help me at all on how to talk to them. It just brings up another thing to worry about. “Thanks for the tip.”

“I sure hope that was what you wanted. Now, are you going to stand there all day, or can we keep walking?”

“Walking is fine by me.”

My mind raced with any number of perilous scenarios, while Kenzo had no objections to my brooding silence. What if a Kolshian attacked me because I was some predator to be cleansed, in their eyes? That had to be a real threat if there was a need for this much security. The idea of being hit with an alien bioweapon was something I wasn’t ready to have as even a remote possibility, regardless of whether humanity could reverse it now. If someone smuggled in a more familiar attack device, like a bomb, how would we even escape the station? Would that vent all of the oxygen, and I’d suffocate in an instant? I didn’t know how this all worked!

The Kolshians were quarantined because they’re incongruous with our existence. You won’t know who’s sitting across from you…and there’s no shortage of cases. Oh God. I’ve got to find a way to drag out whatever the onboarding process is.

I began plotting ways in my head to get out of interacting with the aliens. Days from Earth and with a pretty penny on the line, it would be a poor move to bail on day one. Perhaps there were other roles that I could get moved into: janitor, kitchen staff, errand girl. There probably weren’t people lining up for unglamorous roles in a place like this, so I could still earn my keep. I’d happily scrub floors or grab coffee for pricks like Kenzo if it was a human-facing role. Maybe I could test the waters on what job openings they had, and broach the subject with a tentative approach. There was no shame in admitting to myself that I was wholly unqualified and unready for this; I’d been kidding to think I was suited for diplomatic work, let alone with this species.

“This is your office.” Kenzo flung open an unassuming wooden door, which had an empty name card on the outside. There was a water dispenser in the back, along with a glass desk and a spinning chair. “Your calendar will be assigned to you automatically. Like the posting said, eight-hour day, and you’ll get a 40-minute lunch break. Your performance will be closely monitored, so don’t get any ideas to slack or take liberties.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Where to next? Living quarters, I assume; I need to drop off my bags and get settled,” I said.

“You’re in Room 12, but you can find that on your own time. Leave your bags, and set up your workstation login. Interview sheet’s not gonna type itself.”

“Wait, what? Are…we’re doing a practice interview?”

“What do you think I am: a professional hand holder? You’re gonna do your fucking job! It’s not that hard.”

“I’m not sure who put a stick up your ass, but I literally just got here. I thought there’d be some kind of learning curve…you could take it a little easy.”

Kenzo snorted. “We are taking it easy on you. You’re not getting slammed with one after another for a few days. I only put one on your agenda for today: some xenobotanist named Kelvanis. The file loaded on your station has all the info you need.”

“I, um…why don’t you sit in on this one? You told me they could be dangerous; I don’t know self-defense, or…”

“Panic button is under the desk, behind the cabinet drawers on your right. If you’re threatened, you call security, but you better not trip the silent alarm unless you’re in fear for your life.”

“Why aren’t the security in the fucking room?“

“It intimidates the visitors. Their comfort takes precedence over our safety; thank Secretary-General Kuemper for that call.”

“You’re not going to coach me on how to handle this at all? What is wrong with the UN: setting people up to fail?” My throat was clamming up, and I barely refrained from begging. This couldn’t be happening this quickly. “My only de-escalation or predatorphobia training is a joke of a webinar.”

“Well then I hope you were paying attention. Kelvanis is on his way. Sink or swim, fresh meat. Good luck!”

“Wait…Kenzo, don’t do this! I’m not ready.”

The door clicked shut as Kenzo ducked away, leaving me alone in an office that didn’t feel like mine. I slid my bags under the desk, and sank into the chair in a trance. My head sank into my hands, as the gravity of my predicament set in. My eyes slowly peeked out from the crook of my elbow, landing on the holographic display I’d been advised to log into. While I knew I needed to look over Kelvanis’ file to have the slightest inkling what to do, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every fiber of my being wanted to bolt back to the ship, and refuse to leave the cabin until they took me back to Earth. After all, given my lack of any training and my present spiral, I was clearly going to flub this appointment with the Kolshian. There was no reason to put myself through this humiliation.

That’s not fair to Kelvanis, is it? With the amount of cases the UN is processing, he probably waited a while to get up here. His life could be in imminent danger, and if he gets sent back, he could be killed.

I drew a shaky breath, talking to myself in the hopes of inspiring courage. “Whatever Kenzo said, there was Recel being a decent guy. If there was one, then there must be others.”

It was a matter of making it through this one interview, as best as I could, for Kelvanis’ sake. He was a sapient being that hadn’t done anything to me…yet. It would be more dignified to be able to tell my family that I had spoken to an alien, and decided the job “wasn’t for me.” Bailing without a single meeting would make my résumé look even worse. I forced myself to sit upright, trying to make myself look presentable; out of the corner of my vision, I confirmed the location of the panic button. My first instinct was to fake a smile to mask my nerves, but it wasn’t long after that I remembered how aliens took that expression. All I could do was try to turn my consternation into a more neutral emotion, and to disguise my breathiness.

My twitchy fingers pranced across the keyboard, setting up a login with a quick facial recognition scan. Kelvanis’ file materialized on my screen once I was finished with the setup process, and though I tried to read it, my brain couldn’t make sense of the words. “I can do this” was the mantra I repeated to myself in my head, however little I believed it. It was all I could do to pretend to be busy, while praying that the Kolshian would carry the conversation—that I could listen to and document their response in my present state. Stuck in the only place with non-military humans in this star system, I waited for the first alien I’d ever engaged with to walk through my door.

Next

A/N - Part 1! We meet Chloe, a new caseworker who lacks experience or qualifications, and after some less than encouraging tidbits from mentor Kenzo, she’s thrown straight into her first case: despite her fear of aliens, never interacting with one before. She sets herself to finish this case, so she can bolt back to earth without abandoning an asylum seeker. What do you think of this glimpse of how the UN is handling the Kolshians? Will Chloe be able to get through her schedule appointment with Kelvanis?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! Kelvanis’ POV is next.