FBI Agent Wade Barron POV
Craun, Kaitlin, Finley, and I ducked into a conference room that was packed with military wallflowers, as the entire world’s government apparatuses scrambled to patch into the Council’s communication attempt. It was fortunate that NASA had been forward-thinking when setting out the parameters for Project Iris; the United Nations had trained diplomats who’d begun studying the Saphno language and who had settled on the world’s response for each scenario. I had no idea what they would say, and I was surprised they’d initiate contact at all.
Didn’t the Council avoid contacting Earth because they believe there’s no intelligent life—no people—here? In fact, I was under the impression that they forbade such a thing. I really felt like I understood with the tiger analogy.
“Craun,” I prodded the Saphno, who seemed as confused and worried as anyone else. “They think primals are beasts without control, so they wanted nothing to do with us. Do…you think it’s possible that they saw that we’re not angry about you being here? That they would’ve changed their minds?”
The alien turned his head toward me, his eye crystals gleaming. “No. I imagine they’re here for some other purpose entirely.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Nor should it be. I’m worried for how they’d treat you, when humans aren’t people to them. You’ll never get people considerations; I can’t imagine they would alter that viewpoint.”
Finley offered an irritated sigh. “Then we could just shoot ‘em down, and no one could be mad about it. We’re primals. We don’t know any better!”
Nervous laughter spread throughout the room, but I could see in the thinly-veiled flashes of teeth from the generals that the military was ready to repeat the Craun incident, intentionally this time. I shook my head and stroked my chin, mulling over how they might believe we’d shoot missiles as flippantly as an animal spitting venom. Just like tigers ate people, humans blew them up, in their minds. I hoped that cooler heads would prevail, and that we would put our best foot forward.
This might be our only chance to show the Council a different side of us, since we had a do-over with how we reacted to an alien ship’s arrival; we’d gotten into it with each other, when we misinterpreted Craun’s vessel. We couldn’t change the reality that we were primals, but perhaps we could change their understanding of what that meant with humans. That was all in NASA and the UN’s hands though. My job was to pay attention for anything that could jeopardize our Saphno guests’ safety.
I don’t think Craun is happy to see the Council. He came here because they’d turn him over to the Ploax to avoid a fight. Still, if they’re reaching out with proper diplomats, that has to be a good sign about giving us…some credit?
I watched in the livestream as a smiling UN diplomat, seated at a table of her peers, connected to the Council’s digital data transfer; they appeared to be setting up a video call in our formatting. The being that appeared was a nonplussed mammalian, with mismatched gray ears and a fanged, tapered snout. The thinning fur around the periphery of the alien’s skull petered out, but formed an x-shape of hair across his otherwise-barren face. From Craun’s lessons to NASA, I could identify the speaker as a member of the Clydid species.
“Welcome to Earth. Humanity is honored to receive an official visit from the Cosmic Council,” the UN diplomat spoke, her voice somehow remaining tranquil. “Please, understand that we bear you no ill will. We’d be happy to host you on our planet, and to discuss a friendship between our two civilizations.”
The Clydid grunted, before answering in English. “That won’t be necessary, primal. We have no intention of staying long. We didn’t want to contact humans, but we’ve been made aware that two Saphnos disturbed your environment with disregard for the Council’s protections. You know far more than you should. While much of the damage is irreversible, we intend to correct it where possible.”
“It’s not an issue, truly. The discovery of extraterrestrial life is wonderful news to us. We understand how you regard primals, and how that relates to humans.”
“Then you understand that you’re neither our peers nor our equals. You have intellect and craftiness aplenty, enough for us to have this dialogue, but you lack the most basic principle of self-control. You’re intelligent animals, and the seed never should’ve been planted for you to seek more.”
Our diplomat blinked several times. “Humanity seeks what small kindnesses you’d bestow, since we find it rather painful that you see us as…mere beasts. We’d readily volunteer for a scientific study of how we differ, which could enhance your scientific understanding and alleviate doubts about our control. I assure you, we are rational beings who can hold ourselves to a higher code of conduct. While I know you find us unworthy, we come to you with open arms asking for a solitary chance.”
The Clydid pinned his ears back. “Oh, primal. I know that you comprehend your faults, and that this burdens, alters, your species. I’ll also never be able to erase this knowledge, sadly. I’m not without compassion. It’s why I’m speaking with you rather than simply taking what I’ve come for, even though I’d be well within my rights. I have no wish for strife between us.”
That language definitely raised many hackles in this room, as well as with the world leaders who were observing and connected to the diplomats. The issue with them denying humanity our personhood was that they thought we had no right to oppose them: that their wishes were inherently of more value. It didn’t sound to me like the Council had any interest in parlaying or negotiating. The worrying matter was what they wanted to “take.” The language the Clydid was using made it sound like he wanted us to forget aliens, as much as possible.
“Correcting our environment” would mean returning it to its former state as much as possible. Somehow, I don’t think they like the idea that we could come and contact them. They wanted to nip that in the bud. We…we can’t just go back though! Craun changed everything…
“Surely we can discuss this in a civilized, rational manner,” the UN diplomat responded. “What is it you’d request of us?”
The Clydid’s tan nose curled with disgust. “The Saphnos exhibited a willful disregard of our laws. They must be taken back to Council space to stand trial, and to be punished for the irreparable damage they’ve done. It’s not your fault that contact was made with you; the fault is all theirs.”
“We understand your request. We can discuss it with the Saphnos, but they’re refugees from a genocided race who acted out of desperation. I wouldn’t begrudge them their circumstances.”
“I do not. This isn’t a discussion, primal. Hand the Saphnos over, peaceably, if you have any hope of showing that you’re a rational species.”
Our diplomat nodded. “We need time to discuss your request through the official channels. It’s not a decision I can make or something that can happen through our…natural systems immediately. Can you allow us the time to discuss it with our leadership?”
“Yes, but do not tarry.”
Craun recoiled with dismay, and clung onto Finley’s waist like he was afraid to let go. The farmer’s jaw had dropped with horror, though he comforted the silicon lifeform with gentle headpats; I had heard Mr. Canavan’s breath hitch, when the Clydid demanded to take our alien guests away. It was obvious this Saphno had no wish to leave, but I figured we should hand over Elbi at the first opportunity. It might buy us time to barter, and she clearly wanted off this planet.
I’m not surprised the Council wants to punish Craun for his choice to come here, and for telling us so much about them. At least they seem to know it’s not our fault, but it doesn’t sit well with me to just turn the Saphnos over to an entity that’ll let them get massacred.
The human diplomat steeled herself. “We can arrange coordinates for a personnel transfer, if this is approved. I hope a terrestrial location would be satisfactory.”
“That’d be fine. That is not my only condition,” the Clydid continued. “You must destroy your research on our technology, and abandon these plans to contact the Council. Humanity must stay on Earth. We do not want you or your Project Iris in our space. In return, we let you live your base lives under our protection and stay off of your world.”
“You’re saying for us not to go to space at all?”
“You aren’t permitted to use our technology to do so, and you’re never to enter our space. That’s our stipulation. Do not be angry, you know this is fair.”
“We’re not angry. We’re distraught at the loss of a possible friend. If this is our lone chance to speak to the Council and prove our decency of heart, please allow us to plead our case.”
The Clydid gave a patronizing raise of a paw. “Oh no. You’re experiencing zoochosis already? That’s normal with exposure to…ah, your intelligence. Of course; I’m too late then. Truth be told, we hoped the issue would resolve itself with you killing the Saphno offenders, but your Project Iris has gotten too far.”
“We would never harm Craun and Elbi intentionally. I’m horrified that you think so little of us, because that’s not who humanity are or who we’ve shown ourselves to be. This is a learning experience for our species, but we’ve done our best to atone for our mistakes and to be as hospitable as possible. Why must our meeting be framed as a negative?”
“I don’t expect you to understand, but we’re looking out for your welfare. You were shown a world you can’t be a part of for…reasons that are very obvious to everyone on the outside. This never should’ve happened. Craun and Elbi Chelton were cruel, arrogant, and selfish to do this to you. I am sorry.”
The UN diplomat frowned. “Please, don’t apologize. If you’re not comfortable with us making physical contact, perhaps we could look at remote options. A trade agreement, teleconferencing with…the only primals you can talk to, or just passing our offer of refuge on Venus to the Saphnos. Venus wouldn’t interfere with life on Earth. We want to help, and I’m certain it must benefit the Council to have additional allies.”
“The downsides far outweigh any benefits from our perspective. We can have much simpler allies who’d have anything you can offer us. I have no desire to facilitate any kind of connection between beasts and my people. I’m being direct not to be cruel, but so that you won’t get any more false hopes or ideas like your guests have given you.”
“If you have compassion, there must be some alternative to avoiding our people for all time. Humanity haven’t wronged you, I hope.”
The Clydid seemed exhausted from the back-and-forth. “Primal, it’s simple enough for you to stay away. Your lives will be no different than they were before. Return our people and our technology, and we will go in peace. I await the coordinates to accept the Saphnos and return them to their rightful homes. I encourage you not to take your impulses out on our envoy, for your sake.”
The alien disconnected before the human representative could get in another word edgewise, and furious chatter broke out in the conversation. I looked to Craun, uncertain about whether I could protect him from a Council that was hellbent on dragging him home to face judgment—for the crime of contacting us. The way the Clydid spoke to us was as if we were mere animals, whose habitats had been encroached on by people’s activities. Our best diplomatic attempts fell flat, and I couldn’t say what the right decision was.
We can’t oppose the Council, but as I can already hear our people saying, if we lose our one friendly alien…we’ll never get another. We’ll forever be stuck to Earth and at the Council’s mercy. What if their whims change, or if a power that doesn’t care about “primal preservation” takes over; like say, the Ploax?
Kaitlin grabbed Craun’s hands, as he stared in an apologetic, teary stupor. “Do you want to go with them?”
“No!” the Saphno exclaimed. “I don’t want to leave Finley, or any of you. You’ve been way kinder than they are, whatever anyone says. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that they won’t listen!”
“It’s okay. No one’s hurt, and you’re still here with us now. We have a little time to figure out what to do. Your sister will want to go back though, won’t she?”
Craun swallowed, nodding. “Yes. Elbi…should go with them. She’ll never be happy here.”
“Okay. Then you sit tight; I think most of us are on the same page there, so that’s where we should start. It’s for everyone’s good. I’m going to propose that we send her home at the meeting handoff, as a gesture of goodwill, and try to negotiate for anything else we can offer them. You mean a lot to us, Craun. You might be the only alien friend we ever get.”
“Don’t friendzone me,” Finley objected. “Speak for yourself, Kaitlin.”
Craun laughed, but his eyes were sad. “They’re right that I came here for selfish reasons and…disregarded your welfare. I wish others could see humanity like I do. You’re…good primals. Can I say that?”
“Can and should are often two different things,” I poked him. “I’ve got your back, big guy. I’m looking out for you.”
“Thanks, Wade.” The Saphno nodded, seeming to hesitate. “Would it be acceptable if I take a poll of the humans here? I am wondering something.”
Finley sighed. “You already forgot Valentines’ Day. I hope that’s helpful.”
“He can’t forget it if he never knew. Ask your question, Craun. You can ask us anything,” Kaitlin interjected.
The alien’s eyes swept around the room, and he looked a bit nervous. “Raise a hand if you’re angry about how they spoke to you?”
Every arm shot into the air, with many distant eyes staring wordless daggers at the wall; Finley’s raised hand was one of the first and most forceful, as he protectively brought Craun closer. I felt my own gaze narrow, at the thought of the Council taking the Saphno away. Would it kill them to be our penpals? It’d have to be of some interest to speak to primals, and that was all we needed to change their minds. That Clydid had been so patronizing and pitying. To never contact any nearby aliens…to forever be alone. It was shuddersome.
Craun shifted with unease. “How…wonderfully calm you are.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret, and it’s not just that I have a wonderful poker face,” I whispered, leaning toward him and winking. “Silent, stewing, cold anger? That’s the worst kind.”
“Why?”
“Well, because it’s the purely rational and calculating one.”
The Saphno looked perplexed. “Should I be worried?”
“No. We’re upset with them. We can turn around and be concerned about you, and the feelings are separate.”
Finley made a finger gun, pointing it at the screen. “Nobody’s taking you away, Craun. You’re mine.”
“We’re going to do our level best to keep Craun here,” Kaitlin promised. “Right now, I’m going to get started on sending Elbi home. I imagine she’ll be delighted.”
I watched as everyone scurried off to their assignments, and promised to stick close to Craun’s detail for as long as this crisis was ongoing. I planned to stay apprised of every development in our handling of the Council, since it could have major ramifications on Extraterrestrial Security. It was clear we didn’t have much bargaining power, at least where our alien visitors were concerned. However, I hoped we could satisfy the Clydid captain in some way other than removing every trace of the aliens’ presence.
A/N - 33! As Craun predicted, the Council haven’t developed a sudden respect for primals. They regard humanity as intelligent animals whose habitats have been disturbed, and they don’t want us traveling to space and seeking more; the Clydid envoy demands the return of the Saphnos and is unwilling to negotiate with primals, since he thinks we’re experiencing zoochosis. Craun, meanwhile, doesn’t want to go back in the slightest, and he also learns about cold anger.
What do you make of the Council? Is it possible to persuade or appease them? Will humanity be able to keep Craun on Earth?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!