The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (2/2)
Table of Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
Chapter 8
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: October 28, 2136
Business picked up at the bar, once Terrans learned that their kind were permitted. It was obvious how social the predators were, given that word circulated within a day. Kaulin enjoyed the profit we could scrape off of them, since the predators were content with diluted liquor. Hell, a few even paid us extra to make alcoholic beverages that were mostly juice!
One of the most common items the Terrans ordered was beer, which I did my best to replicate. Learning its alcoholic composition made me laugh; it could practically be considered water. But the massive predators were happy to sip on a mug of my knockoff, and several chipped in tips for my services. Only one human started to get aggressive with me; the others intervened before I could blink.
The last day of Jimek’s suspension happened to be his birthday, so I suppose it all worked out. Dustin contacted the UN embassy soldiers, wishing to impart Terran customs to our celebration. He’d asked my permission first, of course. Once I confirmed there was nothing violent or hunting-involved, I had no objections. It remained to be seen what the Canadian orphan thought of our traditions.
Honestly, it’s been enjoyable to learn more about his culture. Humans aren’t as bad as their reputation makes them out to be.
A pounding noise came from the front door, and Jimek raced to open it. Olek and Lisa were on the porch, dressed in more casual clothes; come to think of it, I’d seen Bondarenko out of soldier pelts at the bar. The female human was wearing a loose collar around her neck, which might be a symbol of cattle wrangling. Why else would the predators put stone chokers on themselves? It gleamed in the sunlight, making it impossible to ignore.
“Ollie!” Jimek squealed. “I’m glad you came! I thought nobody was coming.”
I wandered up behind my son. “Dustin wanted to show you some human celebrations. I’m holding him to the ‘nothing predatory’ pledge.”
Olek removed his shoes as he crossed the threshold, which I figured was to make himself comfortable. Lisa tailed behind him, and carried a circular object in a box. The female peacekeeper quietly slipped me an envelope, which was filled with credit slips; I flicked my ears with heartfelt gratitude. I was glad the soldiers would see how happy their kindness made the boys.
“Nana wouldn’t come to a predator-infested house.” Jimek spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, and Dustin slunk up beside us with dejection. “Aunt Lashie thought about it, but her wife wasn’t as open-minded. And Cousin Stram doesn’t care any—"
I swatted him with my tail. “Jimek, you don’t need to give these poor soldiers our life story! Show our guests to the kitchen like a good host.”
Olek snarled at me, which sent a shiver down my spine. The adult humans were careful not to touch anything. I doubted any Venlil had invited these two beasts inside their dwellings; most civilians avoided them like the hot side of the world. Even if my last two shifts at the bar were overstimulating, I was getting used to their appearance. Dustin was tame compared to a raucous institution full of Terrans.
My foster son tiptoed over to Lisa, and took the circular object from her hands. I could make out a foamy texture on all sides, which was white as snow. Blue swirls dotted its top, with stilted Venlil writing that read, “Happy birthday Jimek.” The Terran artist who’d crafted this must’ve heard of my son’s passion; Dustin was thoughtful to recommend this. I could tell they had difficulty with the swirls of our alphabet, but it was legible enough.
“What is that?” Jimek whispered to his brother. “You ordered a sculpture for me?!”
The orphan flashed his teeth. “It’s called cake, but we get to the cake last! I wanna see the Venlil traditions anyways, before I explain our stuff.”
Olek glanced at Lisa. “I’m curious how you guys celebrate, especially after trying your liquor. That is, if you’ll have us. I don’t want to intrude on a personal moment.”
“We’d be happy to include all of you in our festivities! Venlil see our birthday as a celebration of surviving another year,” I chimed in.
“What…what do you mean by surviving?” Dustin asked suspiciously.
“My son has made it another year without getting eaten as a helpless pup. Every birthday until reaching adulthood, we do a ritual to repel predators.”
The humans fell silent as a rock, and my eyes widened with horror. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let these alien hunters stick around, given that this celebration was meant to ward them off. My fur burned with embarrassment, but I waved them out to the backyard. The Terrans followed in a subdued manner, with expressions much tighter than before.
Dustin looked a bit hurt, and I could understand why. Still, his inclusion in this tradition should prove I didn’t lump him with the animals. Then again, human senses might be as susceptible as other predators. Venlil discovered that bleach deterred hunters long ago; its odor could interfere with the ability to smell long-term. What if the scent was noxious to Terrans as well?
“Yay! Look at me!” Jimek flopped into the inflatable tub, and waded around in the bleach. “Your fat nose can’t smell my blood anymore, Dustin.”
My foster son glared at the grass. “I couldn’t smell your blood anyways. We don’t have working vomeronasal systems…we can’t detect liquid compounds.”
“You lost me. Olek, a 14-year-old is smarter than us. Sounds about right,” Lisa growled.
Bondarenko forced a snarl. “Callsi, I’m sorry…is it safe for Jimek to be in all that bleach?”
“It’s diluted so that it won’t harm him,” I replied. “He’ll wash it off after he plays for a minute.”
“I think Dustin needs a cleaning.” Jimek lowered his paws into the bleach deviously, and met the human’s gaze. “I can smell him and I don’t even have a nose. Come—”
I jumped in his way. “JIMEK, STOP! Don’t splash the humans. We don’t know what concentration will hurt their skin.”
“C’mon! Just a little?”
“I said no! Look at them! I don’t think they’re enjoying this.”
“It’s about Jimek, not us,” Lisa offered. “Though I must say it’s a morbid tradition.”
Dustin nodded. “You hate us by virtue of what we are, Callsi. You always will! It’s in everything you do.”
The little Venlil pinned back his ears with sadness, and ran over to the Terran orphan. I intercepted his hug, signaling for him to go wash up. As Jimek went out of earshot, I escorted the humans to the kitchen. We’d rendezvous with the birthday boy there, and hope Earth’s traditions had a smoother introduction.
I placed one arm around Dustin’s neck, and pulled him close for a hug. The Terran tried to wriggle away, but I dug my claws into his trimmed mane. It was all I could do to hold him, as tears gushed from his eyes. Jimek loved the bleach tradition, so it would dampen his fun to have scrapped it. However, I should’ve explained it to my foster son ahead of time.
“I wouldn’t have invited the other humans if I wanted to repel you,” I asserted. “But I should have asked if it affected you. I’m sorry…I was thinking about Jimek.”
Olek squeezed Dustin’s shoulder. “Callsi cares about you, kiddo. Jimek wouldn’t want you down in the dumps either.”
“I don’t belong here. They’re gonna get rid of me once they get the stipends,” the Terran kid muttered.
“That’s not true. I love you, Dustin, I really do. You’re my son now, whether you like it or not!” I snapped.
Dustin’s mouth hung agape for several seconds. He withdrew from my hug, and rubbed the back of his neck in a self-soothing gesture. His binocular eyes narrowed at me, as though scanning for signs of deceit. Pity seized my heart, realizing he didn’t believe that anyone could love him. There was a lot of work to be done, overcoming his insecurities.
Bondarenko snarled. “See? Now put on a happy face for Jimek. You wanted to tell them about our traditions, remember?”
The birthday boy sauntered back into the kitchen. His silver fur was sticking up in random places, the aftereffect of a hasty towel job. I curled my lip at the puddle on the floor; the little Venlil was still sopping wet. Jimek was almost an adult, so I figured he should be able to dry off thoroughly by now.
My son ensnared Dustin in a hug. “Now you’re wet too. And you’re gonna tell me about the cake.”
“Before presents?” the human sniffled. “I, uh, thought you’d want your gifts. You guys give gifts, right?”
“The cake is a gift if it comes from you. I want to learn how Terrans celebrate, so I can be just like my big brother.”
Olek nudged Dustin on the shoulder, and dramatically exhaled a gust of air. Lisa pointed to the cake, then to Jimek. The human kid seemed to understand, because he started counting out sticks. Thirteen cylinders were passed onto the table, which led to inspection from me. The wire on top appeared to be a candle wick.
I was tempted to stop the predators then and there. Were they planning to start a fire? What did this have to do with a celebration? Terrans cooked their prey, but it was unlikely they wanted to broil Jimek. l doubted this was their exterminator audition, and I didn’t trust them not to burn down my house. However, my unease was shoved aside when I saw Dustin snarling.
Just back up to the sink, and be ready to splash water on a blaze. The humans must know what they’re doing.
The shy orphan retrieved plates, and the other humans lifted the cake lid. Concern assaulted my mind, as I realized this was some food confection. It was impossible to tell what the contents were, and this was predator food. I had no idea how to question their intent without causing offense. Lisa started decorating it with candles, while Olek carefully lit the ornaments.
“It’s vegan, right?” Dustin whispered.
Olek nodded. “Yep.”
I wasn’t sure what that “vegan” word meant, but I wasn’t given a moment to ask. Without warning, the humans launched into song. Their throaty voices carried a tune with surprising accuracy, and Jimek basked in the attention. The words were a simple Happy birthday to you!, belted out in a resounding chorus.
“…birthday dear Jimek.” Dustin’s voice was off-pitch, but it was noticeable how his spirits had improved. “Happy birthday to you!”
The predators began cheering and mashing their hands together, which startled me. The song was a wholesome tradition, but the Terrans didn’t do anything in quiet fashion. It wasn’t clear why the blazing candles were left atop our food. Was this some sort of sacrifice, to cleanse the predation out of their birthday meal?
Dustin steered Jimek over to the cake. “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone what it is, but make a wish in your head. Then blow out all the candles!”
This must be some Terran superstition of good fortune; perhaps ancient predators thought of smoke as a supernatural messaging service. The little Venlil thought for a moment, before his eyes lit up. Not requiring further encouragement, Jimek puffed out the candles with enthusiasm. Olek slapped him on the back, which made me flinch. Lisa started cutting the cake, and served out five portions.
“S-stop!” I stammered. “What…what is this cake made of?”
Olek cleared his throat. “I checked everything at the embassy. The icing is made from coconut m—pulp juice. It’s just a baked sweet, nothing you can’t have in there.”
I accepted my portion with reluctance, and stared at it for several seconds. It looked unappetizing, but I couldn’t push it away without offending Dustin. Jimek carried no such hesitation, digging into his food with a scooper. The little Venlil squeaked with happiness, and wolfed down ravenous bites. “Icing” was smeared across his snout, earning snickers from the Terrans.
Sensing Dustin’s eyes on me, I scooped up a tiny nibble. My tongue was braced for the worst, but the sugary grains melted in my mouth with delightful flavor. It was brimming with richness, nothing like the revolting cuisine I thought a predator would have. My foster son relaxed after I cleaned my own plate in seconds.
“Wow! Thank you for coming and sharing your culture. This was a wonderful treat,” I told the UN peacekeepers.
Olek bared his teeth. “Sure thing! I think it’s time for gifts, Callsi. What do you say?”
Jimek straightened and swished his tail with eagerness. Sighing with disdain, I took a napkin to the icing congealed in his snout fur. Dustin was shooting odd glances at me, and I wondered if the glint in his eyes was hope. Knowing how fragile his psyche was, he was still questioning my declaration of affection. The gift of art school might erase those doubts; I wouldn’t invest in a child I wanted to be rid of.
“Sit down. Both of you.” I clasped my paws in front of me, and watched their curious responses. “I have exciting news. Jimek, next week, you’re starting art school.”
The birthday boy sprang from his chair, exuberant glee plastered across his face. My ears ached from his high-pitched screech. He tackled me with a hug, and I ruffled his cream-colored cowlick with love. Jimek pulled away, dancing around the kitchen. The look on his face melted my heart; it encapsulated the joy I wanted to inspire.
My pupils darted over to Dustin. The human orphan was forcing a smile, and trying to act happy for Jimek. But his binocular eyes told a different story, emotive as ever. Fear was written in his irises, alongside a tinge of doubt. The predator kid must be terrified that the writing was on the wall.
Dustin doesn’t know if I meant what I said, or if I’m appeasing him long enough to pay off the school. Wait ‘til he finds out they’re going together!
“Dustin, listen to my next words very carefully.” I walked over to the human, and placed his hands between my paws. His watering eyes locked with mine. “If you’re going to paint my son purple, you need a proper lesson.”
“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again; I know I shouldn’t have! PLEASE!” he begged me, voice cracking.
“That lesson is going to be how to paint the Venlil way. You’re going to art school with Jimek too.”
“What?! You…you can’t be serious. You, uh, really want…you would…”
“Yes, darling. I know it was your favorite class on Earth, and you miss it. I want you to be happy.”
“…thank you. Thank you, Callsi! But is Jimek okay with this? I, uh, don’t want to, well, steal his thunder on his birthday.”
Jimek flicked his ears. “Of course! I want to go with you. I…I don’t have any other friends.”
“What about Lisa and I?” Olek snorted.
“You’re old! You don’t count.”
Lisa sucked in a sharp breath. “Nuh-uh. You did not just call me old.”
Dustin’s lips curved up, and he muttered a quiet thanks. The human wasn’t bouncing off the walls like Jimek, but he wasn’t as boisterous as the little Venlil. I could tell that he was touched; life hadn’t thrown him many blessings. It would be wonderful to watch his art school career. The predator had found a home in my heart within days, against what I thought possible.
“Serious talk, boys. I expect you to keep up your studies. This will be on your off-days, so you need to be ready for the time commitment,” I said.
Dustin bobbed his head. “I won’t let you down, Callsi. I’m going to make you proud.”
Jimek swished his tail. “I’m gonna be so good, you’ll be like, ‘Who is this kid and why is he in my house?’”
“And…Dustin. You’re going to be the first pr—human in this program. I’m sure these nice Peacekeepers have our back if needed, but there will be fear and resistance. I want you to understand the reality.”
“Yeah. I get it,” the orphan mumbled. “I’ll keep my head down. I can handle it.”
That wasn’t quite the reply I was hoping for, but it might help Dustin if he didn’t draw attention. Much like Sara and Noah’s first TV appearance, doing nothing could boost a predator’s reputation. The school wouldn’t be told about the human entrant until I secured both spots. Given that creative endeavors were prey undertakings, some pushback was expected.
It would be an uphill battle, but I wasn’t going to let other Venlil discriminate against my new son.
A/N
Part 8 is here! Jimek celebrates his 13th birthday, and we learn about Venlil traditions. Dustin and his Peacekeeper friends share Earth's traditions as well, before the boys are told about art school. Will Callsi be able to enroll Dustin in the program?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Chapter 9
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: October 31, 2136
The bar was teeming with predators, as UN personnel swarmed our establishment. One of my coworkers came down with a stomach bug, so I was picking up an extra shift. Dustin and Jimek tagged along, fresh off an uneventful day of school. The children didn’t hide in the back this time; several customers asked to see the foster brothers by name.
Our family was becoming well-known among the refugee populace; my workplace was the spot to be for humans. Kaulin stomached his discomfort, and socialized with recurring customers. My boss did squeal when one drunken human slapped his back yesterday. Since that incident, the dark-furred Venlil distanced himself during conversations. He might’ve also welcomed Gojid spikes on his spine for good measure.
Humans comprised the majority of our attendees, though some Venlil traffic had returned. Native diplomats and scientists tagged along with a few packs; those people had worked alongside the predators for awhile. A handful were in the exchange program, and their closeness to a particular beast was a dead giveaway. I knew firsthand how easy it was to bond with Terrans.
“Callsi, look at me now. There’s something wrong with the predators tonight. I told you we can’t have them killing anyone!” Kaulin hissed.
I forced a neutral expression. “What do you mean?”
“If you spent less time chatting it up with Olek, you’d see! They’re wearing weird pelts, fake fangs, scary masks, and even blood! They’re flaunting markers of death and violence.”
My gaze swept around the bar, gauging Kaulin’s assessment. There was a high concentration of Terrans in strange garb. Approximations of rotting flesh and skeletal bones abounded; it was a disturbing phenomenon. Wearing masks concealed their identities too, if they were planning a pack assault. The prop weapons some carried might not be as phony as they looked.
Dustin and Olek don’t seem to mind. They would warn us if we were in danger.
“Maybe it’s some kind of mourning ritual for Earth?” I offered, though my words lacked conviction. “Let’s talk to my son. He’ll know.”
Kaulin mumbled curses, as we made our way over to the boys. The two children were admiring the mounted TVs, and bantering with each other. Dustin brightened as he spotted me; the human kid didn’t react like his surroundings were indicative of danger. Perhaps he was desensitized to monsters on Earth, given the wild predators that inhabited his world.
To think that Lisa called our traditions morbid, while her own race molded themselves into monsters! I would do my best to understand the humans’ rationale, but this atmosphere did not give off positive energy.
“Hey, Dustin…can you tell me why there are Terrans covered in blood here?” I wrapped an arm around his neck, and tried to swallow my fear. One nearby human was dressed as a reptilian predator, not dissimilar to the grays. “And dressed up as terrible creatures?”
Dustin frowned. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think how weird that is to you. Today is an ancient holiday called Halloween back on Earth. Based on superstition, of course.”
“Okay. What is that superstition, exactly? Is it dangerous to us?”
“It’s all just a tradition, not anything harmful. As far as I know, Halloween is the day where we communicated with the spirits. The lines between the living and the dead are blurred.”
“So this Halloween is about dead people…crossing back over from the afterlife? It’s a supernatural holiday then.”
“I guess. That wasn’t too predatory, was it? I don’t wanna scare you.”
“No, darling. You’re far from the only species to believe in a spirit realm. It shows that humans miss the departed, like us. Some Venlil still say ghosts haunt old buildings, you know.”
“Yeah!” Jimek interjected. “Nana says she feels Gramp’s presence. She even sees him sitting in his favorite chair sometimes.”
Nana is just lonely, I thought to myself. She shouldn’t be filling my son’s head with that nonsense.
Dustin palmed his chin. “Huh, really? We have similar stories. We build attractions to recreate haunted houses. There’s a lot of scary things we do for fun on Halloween.”
That earned an undisguised look of distaste from me. The human couldn’t have said anything more tone-deaf. As someone who’d bordered on a breakdown several times this week, I could assure him fright was anything but enjoyable. It was a predator’s depravity to seek out fear and its debilitating effects.
Were the humans so removed from being preyed upon, that terror was exotic to them? I found the entire notion insensitive to the real threats Venlil faced. It was either making a mockery of our instincts, or suggesting that the Terrans enjoyed death and peril. The gruesome traditions lumped into a spiritual holiday made it appalling.
“Back up. I don’t get it!” Kaulin spat. “What do fallen souls have to do with bloodthirsty costumes? Are you gonna attack someone and claim the ‘spirits’ possessed you?”
“No, uh, it’s all part of it. Our ancestors would impersonate the dead souls, and seek offerings on their behalf.” Dustin scratched his mane, and grimaced at his own words. “Not living sacrifices…just like food…aw crap, it started for good luck.”
Jimek pinned his ears back. “So these Terrans are representing dead people?”
“Uh, no, that’s not the modern deal. Nowadays, kids just dress up as spooky things, or something that we like culturally. Then we go door-to-door asking for candy. It’s just a goofy pastime, you see?”
I exhaled a heavy sigh. “The fact that you turned death into a party game is bother—”
A high-pitched noise emanated from the televisions, and Jimek grabbed at his ears. My son had removed his bandage from Cylek’s torment; the scar was sealing itself up nicely. Human heads swiveled around, while the Venlil customers stared in equal confusion. Fear pumped through my veins, leading me to place an arm around both kids. If there was a planetary raid, we needed to rush to a bunker in a hurry.
It has to be that. The government hardly makes emergency broadcasts for anything else, but where are the raid sirens?
Governor Tarva appeared on the screen, a disturbed expression on her face. The middle-aged Venlil’s support had dipped after first contact, though her numbers had rebounded slightly. She wasn’t as suicidal as many assumed, given that the Terrans were behaving like allies. The recovery of the Gojid cradle had been a particular victory; humans were the ticket to beating the Arxur.
Earlier victories were brought up by the Governor’s media team, in an attempt to win the public over. Noah and Sara’s tireless appearances sowed some doubts, and the empathy tests were scientific proof of their intentions. The Venlil exchange program volunteers shared their stories, promising that humans only looked like monsters. Marcel’s torture made the Federation seem oppressive, while he was the victim.
Bringing millions of refugees to our homeworld was a stretch, though. It was one thing for the public to consider the positive outcomes, and another to walk past a predator in the street. With sufficient time, I thought most Venlil could adjust to humans. But the public hadn’t been eased into the situation, given the sudden influx from Earth.
Tarva pinned her ears back. “Greetings, citizens of the Venlil Republic. I am about to share with you an interview from Aafa, revealing a centuries-long conspiracy against Federation member races. The Kolshians and the Farsul want to control us all, to the point of erasing our culture. They also forced genetic edits on other races.
But don’t take my word for it. You’re going to hear it from Chief Nikonus’ lips. I hope that some good will come of this; that you will realize our closest allies are no different than races we worked with for centuries. The humans are not the only meat-and-plant eating race to have existed.”
Audible gasps sounded around the bar, and the Terrans gave the screen their full attention. I was having difficulty processing Tarva’s words myself. That couldn’t be right; there were two predatory sapients in the galaxy! There were no other races with forward-facing eyes, so it must be one of the extinct species. Maybe the Arxur had wiped out their rivals, and the Kolshians covered it up?
A shaky video feed morphed across the television, depicting an unhinged Gojid badgering Nikonus. I couldn’t blame the spiky guy for getting upset, given the Kolshian’s claims. The Venlil across the bar looked shell-shocked, hearing that the Arxur were starved first. Had those monsters really not instigated the war? It was horrifying to think any blame fell on us.
A Harchen reporter calmed the Gojid, who was identified as Captain Sovlin. That was the sadistic officer who inflicted suffering on Marcel for laughs; his actions were monstrous to any decent person. Nikonus spoke about the Krakotl being former omnivores, and this time, the humans in the bar were floored. I knew the predators hated the avians, so they must be at an emotional loss.
Olek slapped the counter with a hoot. “I fucking knew it! I told you all the Feds were experimenting on their own people. It’s gene probing shit, which everyone said was crazy talk!”
Jimek shivered. “Mom? Were the grays f-friendly at first?”
“I…I don’t know, darling. I have no idea,” I murmured.
The Kolshian implied that anti-hunter religions were falsehoods, perpetrated against dozens of other races. This interview unraveled my entire understanding of the galaxy. Predators were bloodthirsty beasts that lashed out for cruelty’s sake; the humans were a special exception that could control those urges. Other Venlil in the bar looked physically ill, on the verge of passing out.
Shit, the Terran customers must be pissed that we lied to them! What must they think of us Venlil now?
Governor Tarva reappeared on screen. “Do you know what the Federation told us? That we’re the weakest race, and that we’re too emotional. I’m asking all of you to make a choice, not to let them define us any longer. They don’t control our thoughts. We choose our own destiny, and we choose love not fear.
The converted races are people that we’ve worked alongside for years. Why are the people of planet Earth any different, my friends? To the humans listening, I am sorry that I was not playing with a full deck, as you say. I feel shocked and duped as anyone, but I want to make this right. We all have the choice to make this right today.”
The emergency broadcast switched off, and the bar was consumed by a heavy silence. Kaulin stared at the humans, as though they could answer his questions. I felt confused and hollow myself. This meant that nothing about the Venlil was authentic; all of our beliefs were Federation byproducts. Even the demonic Arxur were created by our alien allies, who we trusted to protect us.
Wetness pressed against my cheek, which made me realize I was crying. Dustin shot me a concerned glance, before checking that a sullen Jimek was okay. The human predators had been so terribly mistreated, without any good reason. Nikonus outright implied the primates had no intent of eating us. A whimper trailed from my throat, and I reached under the counter for a liquor bottle.
Olek jumped from his bar stool, and shook his head fervently. “No, no, no! Callsi, look at me!”
I could feel other Terran customers staring at me, as guilt entombed my heart. Human kids were threatened with flamethrowers, just because of their eyes. Olek himself was held at gunpoint multiple times, for trying to get a drink with his friend. The unfounded prejudice they endured was unthinkable; I didn’t know how they could forgive us.
You were part of that, Callsi. You took Dustin in to use him for money.
“Hey, it’s okay. None of this is your fault.” Bulky arms wrapped around my body, and Olek constricted my shoulders. “I’m sorry that the Venlil have been lied to. You must feel hurt.”
“W-we hurt you,” I choked out. “W-we’re…not good friends.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone in this bar is alive because of the Venlil! Dustin is here because of you.”
Jimek slumped his shoulders. “I was mean to Dustin on his first day. I told him I didn’t want him around.”
“It’s okay, little bro,” my foster son whispered. “Actual predators were mean to you. I get it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to get it.” I leaned against the bar counter, swallowing hard. “You shouldn’t have to worry about scaring us, and live under constant scrutiny. The Venlil hurt you when you’re suffering most.”
Bondarenko removed his glasses. “Callsi, the Venlil talked to us when nobody else would. You supported us against the entire galaxy, and fought alongside us at Earth. Humanity will always be here for you.”
Dustin snarled at Jimek, and several Terrans offered supportive barks. The primates with Venlil companions were comforting their friends, ignoring their own feelings on the matter. I thought about what Nikonus said, that nobody wanted to see a human walking around. The Venlil public had sided with him before today.
Governor Tarva implored us not to let the Federation define us any longer. I couldn’t undo my past mistakes, but I could do right by humanity today. Every Venlil had the chance to choose kindness, and to realize that Terrans were no different than other species. Dustin’s presence put me on the path to cleansing my thoughts.
Perhaps this broadcast would be a turning point for Venlil society. Other businesses might open their doors to humans, and not just for the bottom line. Public perception would become evident soon enough, when the time came to bring Dustin to art school. There were mere days until I was springing the human child on the institution.
It remained to be seen if the post-conspiracy world would be more charitable to predators.
A/N
Part 9 is here! Callsi learns about the death-centric holiday Halloween, but her focus is drawn from the costumed humans. We see how Cilany's interview was revealed, and Tarva's pleas in the aftermath. Will this be the catalyst for human acceptance on Venlil Prime? Will Dustin get into art school?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Chapter 10
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 3, 2136
This was a rare occasion where I asked for Dustin to wear a mask. As unfair as those requests were, the school’s first impression was of paramount importance. The faculty would be in over their heads teaching a predator, especially with how paws-on art instruction was by nature. It was difficult enough for the regular educators to lecture with binocular eyes trained on them.
Jimek was showing Dustin a collection of the Venlil’s famous artwork. A brief overview of Gojid and Zurulian pieces was sprinkled in too. While the core curriculum would be our native styles, the instructors touched on neighboring species’ collections. It would be a lot for my foster son to absorb.
After all, there was no telling how our expression compared to Earth’s doctrines. Not only were Terrans an unknown alien race, but they were untouched by cultural whitewashing. They wouldn’t adhere to Federation homogeneity. Their predator side might not appreciate the softer elements of our work either.
Stop assuming that predators are inherently different, I chided myself. They’re different because they’re aliens, not because of their diet.
Noticeable improvements had occurred since Cilany’s broadcast. Many businesses rescinded their human bans, and the “Don’t Run” campaign on social media persuaded civilians not to flee from Terran refugees. Braver individuals were making efforts to approach the predators in public spaces; some of my regulars returned to the bar as well.
Tibek, the grumpy veteran who’d objected to Dustin’s presence, was among the returnees. He’d paid his outstanding tab, but spoken little to Kaulin or myself. There was still no sign of Nalva, though I couldn't call that disappointing after she assaulted me days ago.
I breathed a heavy sigh. “We’re here. There’s your art school, right there. What do you think, boys?”
“It’s so concise and serene! The dome is welded so intricately, like the carvings of Tueln!” Jimek gushed. “And the stairs reflect the sunlight into the fountains. The walkway is one gorgeous rainbow!"
Dustin bobbed his shoulders. “Is that an exterminator insignia on the gate placard?”
“I’m afraid so. They’re one of the school’s largest donors,” I murmured.
Worryingly, that meant Vana might have connections to the faculty here. What if she’d found out that Jimek and Dustin had enrolled, and tried to blackball us from the program? This was challenging enough without her interference. We hadn’t run into her since the gravity arcade, but Cylek and his crew steered clear of Jimek at school. At least my son was rid of the incessant bullying now.
Dustin scowled. “Why would they fund something like this?”
“Because the exterminators hire graphic artists for their recruiting campaigns.” Jimek’s ears were perked up with tentative excitement. “They also need lifelike drawings of wild predators for PSAs.”
“Is that gonna be a problem, Dustin darling? I don’t want you to feel unsafe,” I said in a soft voice.
The Canadian orphan hopped out of the car. “That’s alright, Callsi. I can live with it. Don’t worry!”
I considered whether the human could handle this environment. My foster son’s shyness might be a blessing; he kept his eyes trained on the floor naturally. Even with the mask on, direct stares caused discomfort in most Venlil. It gave the impression of being dissected in a predator’s mind. I recalled my reaction to seeing Dustin’s unconcealed eyes for the first time.
Many herbivores assumed the worst about the lonely Terran orphan; I hoped that wouldn’t be the case today. Venlil children were milling outside, waiting for classes to begin. Stunned exclamations rippled through the crowd, and several kids pointed at Dustin. Games screeched to a halt, with the students snapping to high alert in an instant.
I pressed my paws onto Dustin’s shoulders, and steered him into the domed complex. Jimek raced ahead, gawking at the features on the walls. The human craned his neck with hesitancy, as though worried about sudden movements. We passed other Venlil in the hallway, earning frightful screams. Most faculty pulled themselves together, but their fur remained frazzled.
“I guess we shouldn’t ask for directions. The paper said to go to Office 207, in the left wing,” I muttered to myself.
My foster son shuddered. “I, uh, feel sick to my stomach, Callsi. They hate me, just like the kids at school avoid me. I’m never gonna have any friends.”
“Don’t say that! I’m your friend,” Jimek hissed.
“You live with me. You don’t have a choice…it’s like some kind of Stockholm Syndrome.”
“Some kind of what? You started doing that alien mumbo-jumbo stuff again.”
“Oh. Stockholm Syndrome is where people fall in love with their kidnappers. It’s a common psychological phenomenon.”
My eyes widened with alarm. Human abductions were regular enough on Earth to establish scientific research? I couldn’t fathom why a hostage would fall for a predator-diseased monster. It wouldn’t be far removed from Venlil cattle swooning over an Arxur raider, which was a laughable notion. Perhaps that “Stockholm Syndrome” lunacy was the same side of the Terrans that enjoyed Halloween’s fear.
Dustin ducked his head in shame, realizing he’d strayed from acceptable conversation. I ruffled his hair for reassurance; within reason, I didn’t want him to censor himself around us. Unless he started describing human aggression in detail again, I wasn’t going to shut him down. My responsibility was to support his cultural differences, and earn his trust.
“Over here!” Jimek had ventured ahead, and mapped out the rooms. He paced outside the administrator’s office, which had embossed brass doors. “This has a sign for new enrollees to check in here! I’m going to art school, I’m going to—”
I scurried up to him. “Calm down, please. You need to be on your best behavior, for Dustin’s sake.”
“Thank you guys for trying,” the predator whispered. “Whether I get in or not, you didn’t have to do this.”
I summoned my courage, and straightened my neck fur to look presentable. My claws rapped on the door, not wanting to barge in with a human. An enthusiastic voice shouted that she was coming. Pawsteps sounded against carpet, followed by the click of a door handle. This was our single opportunity to earn Dustin’s slot, and I wouldn’t let it go easily.
An elderly Venlil stared at us, and her pupils shot over to the human. I thought that she had a kind face; the folds in her ears suggested she’d been emotive over the years. The administrator didn’t seem surprised by the awkward predator. There was only a slight twitch in her jowls, which was a better reaction than I expected.
The Venlil senior swished her tail. “You must be Dustin and Callsi. I’m Administrator Evsi. Come in! An acquaintance of yours just dropped by.”
Confusion surged in my mind, clueless as to which acquaintance Evsi was referencing. Perhaps the Peacekeepers had come to plead Dustin’s case? I could see Olek swooping in, once he was finished gloating about the unveiled conspiracy. That human had peddled increasingly far-fetched tales the past few nights.
My heart plummeted into my stomach, as I saw a puffy Venlil on the couch. That was Vana’s silhouette, complete with a smug expression. Hatred flashed when she saw Dustin, but it seemed personal rather than human-phobic. This wealthy bitch resented my foster son for beating up Cylek. Because of her ties to the extermination guild, it was easy for her to meet with Administrator Evsi.
“Callsi! When I heard that you were enrolling the human mongrel from some lowlifes at your bar, I had to come here,” Vana purred. “Dustin already proved it can’t be peaceable in a school.”
My foster son furrowed his brow. “Who is she?”
“Cylek’s mother,” I whispered back.
Evsi settled in at her desk. “Go on, Vana. Tell me more.”
“My poor baby still has nightmares about that awful creature there.” Vana’s ear flailed about with fury, and she bared her teeth. “Cylek was one of several mauling victims…the monster there had the nerve to charge into a group of kids! What do you think he’ll do in your classes?”
“Nice speech. Is that all? The way I saw it, along with most of Venlil Prime, Dustin was protecting his herdmate.”
“I….you’re out of line! Do you know who I am? The exterminator guild funds your institution, and I can make phone calls to end that pipeline in an instant.”
“I don’t think the guild will want its reputation tarnished. Protecting predator-diseased kids due to personal connections? Who you know won’t save your son anymore. Besides, Volek is making PR moves to rebrand exterminators as ‘human-compatible.’”
“Evsi, d-don’t be ridiculous! Callsi is a bottom-feeder member of society. Neither of her mongrels should be here.”
The administrator huffed. “I’ve heard quite enough. Vana, remove yourself from my office at once.”
“It’s a human! Humans don’t have the slightest ability to create art or appreciate beauty. You’re going to have it drawing blood, and maimed visions of other students!”
“Leave. Now.”
The classist Venlil stormed out in a huff, shooting glares of loathing at us. Jimek swished his tail in a chipper farewell, and Dustin followed by waving a hand at her. Vana made sure to clip my shoulder as she left; I resisted the urge to shove her back. We couldn’t afford to ruin Evsi’s goodwill, and a physical assault would make us look no better than that bitch.
I can’t believe Vana went so far to stop us from getting into art school. At least her sway has diminished…and it prepared Evsi for Dustin’s arrival.
The administrator hopped up from her desk, and circled the human with intense scrutiny. Dustin slouched under her stare, uncomfortable with the attention. Evsi redirected her focus to me, while pulling up our applications on her holopad. A thoughtful expression tugged at her features; I hoped that meant she was considering accepting the boys.
“I don’t like that woman, but she has a point. Is a predator’s culture even capable of art on the same level as us?” Evsi asked at last.
I leaned over to Dustin. “Tell her about your art classes, or whatever it is Terrans draw.”
“R-right!” the orphan barked. “Um, we paint and sculpt and stuff. All sorts of styles, er, and classic pieces that we, like, still remember today.”
The Venlil administrator flicked her ears. “Why don’t you show me examples yourself, human? I’d like to see some paintings to decide for myself.”
“What? Are…are you sure?”
“Yes. I put in a request to the Terran embassy, but they haven’t gotten back to me. Maybe, as a favor, you could put them in touch with me? It would be wrong not to mention your art history this semester, with millions of humans living here.”
“Sure. We, um, know some people there.”
“Good boy…so, the artwork? I haven’t forgotten. Show me some pieces on your holopad.”
I peered over Dustin’s shoulder, as he scrambled onto the internet with shaking fingers. After a moment’s thought, he punched in The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh. Melancholic swirls formed a night sky, in a way that grabbed the mind’s eye. It was astounding that Terrans could translate scenery into such moving interpretations.
The art administrator looked impressed as well, and observed the painting for several seconds. The human hesitated, as she requested another piece; I suspected Dustin was ensuring that his selections were safe for Venlil eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that Terrans had a vast collection of violent works. I hadn’t forgotten the zoology rant, where the orphan detailed their aggression.
Art is just a translation of feelings to paper. Of course some of Earth’s works would be dark and sickening.
My foster son ran through a series of portraits, depicting his species’ predatory visage. One called the Mona Lisa which was more than half a millennium old! I was surprised that such primitive beasts bothered with artwork. Other human-focused paintings he picked out were equally mystifying; many focused on mundane aspects of daily living.
It was impressive how details and shadows were captured; predator artists could pay attention to intricacies. I was captivated by how ordinary these depictions were, with subjects often just posing. Wouldn’t Terrans want to glorify warriors and hunters? Where was the anger resonating through their expressiveness?
Evsi hummed in approval. “Show me something less safe, Dustin. Something that branches out. Art captures the full breadth of expression, good or bad.”
“Um, I don’t know…” he mumbled.
I flicked my ears with reassurance. “Go on, darling. You’re not going to get in trouble.”
The Canadian orphan still looked uncomfortable, but he typed in the name “Jackson Pollock.” He angled his screen away from us, and sifted through images with a taut grimace. Dustin drew a shuddering breath, only revealing his selection when I coughed pointedly. This image had random globs and splashes of paint, lacking any pattern. The colors clashed with each other, overlapping across the canvas.
This was how I would’ve expected a predator to paint. It looked like a scientist handed a non-sapient a brush, and the animal started slapping at the canvas haphazardly. This was considered renowned artwork on Earth? I failed to see the meaning, the beauty, or the purpose of this piece. Evsi was taken aback as well, though she contained her reaction.
“With respect, Dustin, how are random splashes and streaks artwork?” The Venlil administrator shifted with discomfort. “There’s no pattern…no beauty. I respect abstract art, but this lacks any thoughtfulness.”
Indignation flashed in the human’s expression. “It isn’t about the image! This is about how it was made, not what was made. It’s a demonstration of science on a canvas.”
“How so?”
“Pollock used tools that broke the mold, and understood perfectly how gravity would affect paint. It’s not random; it’s technical genius! It was about resisting the rules of what is considered art…the unabashed defiance of traditional techniques. That’s the sentiment for you: nonconformity.”
Evsi was quiet for a long moment. She studied the paint scribbles with new interest, chewing on Dustin’s words. The zeal in the human’s voice was unmistakable, even if I didn’t quite get it. I understood the importance of the creative process, at least, even if the finished product didn’t suit my tastes. A Venlil who had devoted her life to art must appreciate technical difficulty.
Evsi steeled her expression. “Understood. Now, for my last request. I want you to show me something violent. Something predatory. I am certain that humans have paintings in that vein.”
“That’s, er, not a good idea. I, uh, don’t want you to hate me? No can do,” Dustin grumbled.
“If you want to attend these classes, I suggest you fulfill my requests. I have the final say on whether your species is artistically qualified; not Vana or anyone else.”
“I would, well, rather not. But if you insist…”
The human shot a nervous glance at me, and swallowed hard. Perhaps he was frightened about showing predatory displays to me; I had requested that he avoid difficult topics. Guilt pummeled me again, as I realized his fear was my doing. Summoning my courage, I struck an encouraging posture. This wasn’t within the confines of what I wished to learn, but I’d try to stomach it.
Just focus on your breathing, and how much you love Dustin, I told myself. There’s no reason to be scared of him. We have to do this for him to attend art school.
My foster son picked up on my assent, and pored over his holopad with reluctance. The quivering had spread to his shoulders; even with the visor, I could sense his fearful gaze. His delicate fingers typed in a final keyword, and he tilted the screen toward us. He turned his head away, unable to watch our reactions.
The translation proclaimed that this was Guernica by Pablo Picasso. It was tough for me to decipher what was portrayed, but it looked like violent chaos. Human body parts were strewn about, riddled with flames. Was this a depiction of corpses and gore? Why would Terrans turn death into an artistic romp?
Evsi recoiled. “T-that is…an unusual focus on dismemberment. I’m not sure this is something a Venlil should be exposed to.”
“Is t-this an imagining of humans hunting each other in the streets?” I stammered.
“No! This is considered the most moving anti-war painting in human history,” Dustin snapped. “It shows suffering, but only to highlight the horror of combat. Most artistic representations of war are a form of protest.”
The administrator sported an odd expression. “You think that suffering is art? This showcases your species’ worst attributes.”
“I think that art is a mirror. Sometimes an ugly one.”
Understanding dawned on me, and I allowed disgust to take root in my soul. This piece was supposed to elicit such aghast reactions from viewers; the artist wanted the atrocity to linger in the viewer’s mind. The abstraction emphasized the chaotic emotions to perfection. Furthermore, this item reflected a staggering level of self-awareness.
Terrans realized how execrable and predatory their kind could be. They knew aggression was monstrous, and they broadcasted that sentiment on their homeworld. Even the primitive humans recognized how their own kind were brutalized. Some of the wild ones wanted the carnage and bloodlust to stop!
Jimek paced with restlessness. “Dustin is really talented and smart, I’m telling you. Please let him attend here!”
“Well, the human definitely showed that he grasps art’s intricacies. While his own kind has their demons, clearly… I don’t think it warrants any real objections on my part.”
“So you’re saying he can go?”
“Jimek!” I hissed.
Evsi chuckled. “It’s alright, Callsi. I’ll review the paperwork with you, but I think we should give the human a trial.”
Dustin’s mouth part with surprise. “Uh, thank you. I appreciate your kindness, ma’am.”
“Of course. Why don’t you boys go to your class? Beginner sessions are in Room 1, down the hallway.”
“Beginner?” Jimek mumbled.
“Yes. You’ll be moved as needed according to your skill level.”
I swished my tail. “It never hurts to learn the basics. Move along, now!”
Before she changes her mind, I added internally.
My sons took the hint, and padded out of the administrator’s office. I could hear Jimek giggling with excitement, alongside Dustin’s muted voice. Things were changing on Venlil Prime, if a predator had been admitted with minimal obstruction. With the newfound inclusions, I hoped these creative activities would help my human kid flourish on our world.
A/N
Part 10 (officially the first double-digits miniseries)! Vana tries to keep Dustin and Jimek from being admitted to art school, but the publicized incident lessened her sway. Evsi observes famed human art, and determines that we do have potential as a species.
Will Dustin succeed as the first human in a specialized program? Will it bring him closer to his foster family?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! This chapter is dedicated to all the wonderful artists in the NOP community.
Chapter 11
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 12, 2136
Time passed with the human in our residence, with Dustin becoming an integral part of the family. There were hiccups along the way, but for the most part, humans had the same emotional needs as a Venlil. I’d come to enjoy his passionate speeches about animals, and the way he smiled at Jimek. I somehow began to look forward to the sight of his canines.
The binocular eyes had become invisible too, in Dustin’s specific case. Our routines had been adjusted to include the Terran; that included Jimek and I’s television pastimes. Against the odds, the predator took a shine to The Exterminators and its cast. He even took a few action figures from Jimek, and argued with us about character ships.
I returned from a productive day at the bar, getting to work on a protein-rich salad. The boys were due to return from art school soon, and I was excited to hear about what they’d accomplished this week. The Terran only told me that he was painting something special. Dustin had been moved up to intermediate classes with Jimek, which surprised many faculty members.
“Mom! We’re home!” Jimek shouted.
The little Venlil rushed into the kitchen, and grabbed food straight out of the preparation bowl. As I turned to scold him, Dustin snapped up a michin bean with paint-stained fingers. The children snickered, absorbing my screams to wash their paws. While I was happy the human was relaxing, I wouldn’t mind if he returned to obedience.
These two are nothing but trouble, especially given how they share the same bad ideas.
Jimek rushed off to wash his paws, as requested. The Canadian orphan shed his backpack, and excitement glimmered in his pupils. He reached for an item, despite not having put any soap to his palms. I gave him the tail sign for “Go”, hoping I’d been able to impart a few rudimentary words. The human squinted with focus, and his eyes rolled back into his head.
It was evident that tail discernment didn’t come to him naturally, but I was willing to be patient. It was best to learn so he wouldn’t be left out of conversations, or have others talk about him behind his back. Dustin didn’t have a tail of his own to practice with, which hindered memory retention. Given his intelligence, I was confident he could still learn through observation.
“Go?” The orphan flashed his teeth, after I mimicked a human nod. “Okay…where?”
“To wash your filthy hands. Gross!” Jimek hadn’t dried his paws, and proceeded to fling water droplets at Dustin. “Look Mom, I’m helping!”
“Everything doesn’t have to be a game, Jimek. I saved for months to send you to art school. Why don’t you sit down and behave as a ‘thank you?’” I huffed.
Dustin poked his tongue through his lips, then messed up the little Venlil’s cowlick. Jimek pulled away, extending his own tongue at the predator. With a pointed cough, I repeated the “Go” tail signal at the human. My foster child raised his hands in mock surrender, and scampered off. I shook my head, returning to chopping vegetables.
Jimek tiptoed up to me, and placed his holopad on the counter. “Before you hear it from someone else, our school went viral online again. One video, particularly.”
“What happened now?” I hissed.
“So you know how we have rest periods? The humans need physical activity, so their embassy brought toys for them to run around.”
“Oh please, for the love of everything sacred…tell me that physical activity isn’t combat.”
“Well, you know, that answer is unclear?”
My pupils snapped away from the salad bowl, and I inspected the video with escalating horror. Human children lined up on two sides of a field, clutching colorful spheres. I recognized Dustin’s tousled mane, among the ones eyeing opponents in a threatening way. My foster child rocked back, and hurled the object toward another boy.
The arm torsion was remarkable, as he drilled the rival in the chest. The kid he hit looked flustered, before jogging off the pitch. The other Terran children were pelting each other too, and trying to dance out of the projectiles’ path. Dustin scooped up another ball, searching for another mark. He sidestepped a throw aimed at him; every shot a human launched seemed right on target.
How could young predators be so adept at precision? There were no uses for this skill that didn’t involve attacking; the fact that they’d made this a game was sick. That wasn’t mentioning that said recreation involved hitting an opponent, even if the kids were shrugging off the blows. I could understand why Venlil faculty were running over, intervening in a panic.
The video is titled, “Human children practice stoning prey?” Surely this has a more benign explanation…right?
Jimek snatched his holopad. “It’s called dodgeball. Dustin had to look up how it started. It…it was originally a human war game.”
“Right. G-go on,” I managed.
“Human teams would throw stones at each other. When one person went down, the other team would try to incapacitate or finish them off. People died.”
“I don’t want Dustin playing any game that involves death! I…I don’t want to think about what I’d do if something happened.”
“The modern version is just for fun,” the predator’s voice growled from behind me. “It’s harmless exercise. It’s, uh, common in our gym classes at home.”
“You have official classes for physical activity?”
“Yeah? We have to, Callsi. It’s, well, a need for human kids to be healthy.”
Jimek flicked his ears. “Dustin didn’t want to tell you about that clip, Mom, so I said I’d explain. Humans’ll have a hard time explaining their games in general!”
No wonder wars were so prevalent on Earth, if even children found combat alluring. I was sure the United Nations would find some suitable bullshit to feed the public, which mentioned nothing my sons just told me. Many Venlil were warming up to humans, but even the smallest facets of Terran culture had dark undersides. It was tough to think of Dustin as an aggressive primate; I loved him, despite the constant predaciousness.
Olek had cautioned me that Terrans enjoyed violent games, but I didn’t think “games” included actual death. Hearing about today’s art school activities might boost my spirits. I swept the dodgeball out of my mind; my paws got back to work chopping vegetables. The boys peered at the salad with hungry eyes, and I gestured for them to sit down. The food wasn’t going to be ready any quicker by them getting in my way.
Dustin shot a devious look at Jimek, as they seated themselves. The human picked up a longpick in one hand, and a scooper in the other. Still wielding the silverware, he began pounding his fists on the table in sets of three. The little Venlil grabbed his own cutlery, and thumped the table in similar fashion. The clanging pierced my auditory receptors, causing me to grit my teeth.
I flailed my ears in exasperation. “Enough! Why don’t you fix your own food?”
That earned a lull in the chaos, as the boys fell into sulky silence. I fixed their portions with haste, and scurried the bowls over to the table. Once, that demanding display of appetite would’ve had me cowering. The first time I left Dustin home alone, I thought he was going to catch prey in the backyard. Worse was the fear that he’d snack on my son, the second his stomach started rumbling.
I plopped down by my own plate. “Dig in. There’s the food you needed with such immediacy.”
“Thank you, Callsi.” The Canadian orphan tore into his helping, and spoke with a mouth full of food. “I was just messing around.”
“I know. You know I’m not scared of you anymore, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Say it like you mean it. Because I’m telling the truth.”
“What changed?”
“Time. Cilany. Protecting my Jimek. But mostly the moments we have together, like this one.”
The requisites of Dustin’s welfare taught how dependent he was on me. Terrans were high-maintenance aliens, but that unveiled their unique struggles and vulnerabilities. My nurturing instincts won out where the orphan was concerned, even when I was watching him bean other children in the head. My gut reaction was to be concerned for his welfare.
I want to be the mother that nurses the big, bad predator’s wounds, and tells him it’s okay. I want Dustin to succeed just as much as Jimek.
The human shoved the food around his plate, and risked a glance at his backpack. There was still that refusal to accept any positive sentiments I voiced about him. If Dustin hadn’t figured out my affection for him, I didn’t know how else to prove it. All I could do was continue to work on my own biases.
Jimek sipped at his juice glass. “Seeing how talented you are helped a lot, Dustin. I was like, ‘Wow, he gets me!’ It’s cool to have someone to share my drawings with.”
“Oh, that reminds me! You two haven’t told me how art school went,” I said.
“We finished our first paintings, and we brought them home. Wanna see mine?”
“Sure, darling.”
The Venlil’s amber eyes shone with mirth, and he pulled out a canvas of his own carrying bag. I squinted in confusion, attempting to understand the shapes I saw. Jimek’s art was often abstract and angry, but this had some concrete elements sprinkled in. There were two floating gray circles, with one higher than the other; thick black lines were beneath them. Yellow orbs hung behind the gray spheres, occupying the center of the painting in menacing fashion.
I palmed my chin. “What is it supposed to be? I’m sorry, but I can’t tell.”
“It’s Vana and Cylek getting hit by a train!” Jimek giggled, and pointed to faint orange smears. “I made it tough to tell on purpose. Don’t wanna get accused of predator disease.”
“Oh. That’s…lovely, darling?”
“C’mon. You want them to get run over too!”
“I don’t actively wish harm on anyone…even that family. Well, a punch maybe, but death is a bit extreme.”
Jimek looked to Dustin for help, and the human shook his head. The little Venlil slumped his shoulders, stuffing his canvas away. I could see a smirk playing at the predator’s lips, though he was trying to hide it. I supposed he found the drawing of Vana’s imminent demise amusing. In a dark place in my heart, so did I; however, that was not a good example to set for my sons.
I fixed Dustin with an expectant look. “What did you paint? I’d love to see your work too.”
“Okay. Well, uh, it’s not perfect but I, er, tried to recreate your likeness.”
The Canadian orphan pried the canvas out of his backpack, and handed it to me with the utmost care. I marveled at how gentle Terrans could be. My paws accepted his creation with delicacy, not wanting to ruin his prized artwork. Warmth flooded my chest, as I soaked in the entirety of Dustin’s portrait.
The painting showcased two Venlil standing outside a bungalow, which bore a striking resemblance to us. Dustin had placed himself on my other side, with a smile on his face. The human had paid careful attention to every detail, tacking curls to my neck fur and cream patches to my son. Curiously, the artwork had purple splotches on Jimek’s silver coat.
Dustin scratched his neck. “I call it, Why is Jimek purple? Like I said, er, I know it’s not perfect—”
“It is perfect, darling.” I searched for a magnetic hook, and clipped it to the refrigerator. Careful not to topple the painting, I placed it on the metal addition. “I’m going to put it right here, so everyone can see it. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. More than okay.”
The Terran flashed his pearly fangs, and I resisted the urge to smother him with a hug. The Venlil faculty must’ve been pleased with his artistic talent; this boded well for more humans joining creative institutions. It was difficult to misconstrue Dustin’s interpretation of his foster family as anything predatory. I knew I was blessed to have two gifted sons under my roof, with gifts to impart to the galaxy.
Of all the kids on Earth, I was thankful that Dustin Leo Curtis was the one sent to my doorstep.
A/N
Part 11! Callsi learns about the predatory game taught at human schools across Earth, and tries to calm the children's mischief. Dustin and Jimek showcase their paintings, with our human orphan depicting his found family. Will Dustin be able to believe he's found a permanent home?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Chapter 12
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 15, 2136
There was very little I knew about Terran entertainment, beyond the violent nature of their games. So when Oleksiy Bondarenko mentioned a “magic show” at our capital’s theatre, I was skeptical about what that entailed. But Dustin overheard from a barstool, and his eyes lit up in an instant. Once the Terran orphan was begging me to go, it was impossible to say no.
My foster son missed his own people’s entertainment; perhaps this would offer a taste of home. Earth was a gorgeous planet, from what I’d seen at the Terran embassy. Dustin mentioned with caution that he wanted to go back there some day. Unfortunately, it would be a long time before I could muster up the courage to set paw on the human’s cradle. This magic show was the largest unknown I had the ability to face today.
Jimek pranced up to the theatre’s archway, mirroring Dustin’s excitement. It was rare to see the predator with such vibrancy in his face; this must’ve been the perfect event for Olek to mention. The UN Peacekeeper wouldn’t invite us to anything violent, right? He knew the cultural guidelines better than anyone.
Dustin would look more apprehensive if it was predatory. This shouldn’t be traumatic.
I took a calming breath. “This is going to be a fun, family activity. Right boys?”
“Absolutely!” Jimek cheered. “This must be like special effects in movies. Live!”
Dustin pursed his lips. “Not quite. Seeing is believing…you’re gonna be amazed.”
A massive human waved to us from the theatre’s entrance, the signature glasses framing his eyes. Olek had allowed his chin fur to grow out, which incited a discussion on the human practice of “shaving.” The Peacekeeper explained that some males used razors to banish fur by their lips. I was grateful that he’d told me before any spontaneous occurrences with Dustin.
Olek pumped his fist. “Yes! My favorite Venlils!”
“‘Venlil’ is a singulare tantum. You know, the singular form is the plural,” Dustin whispered.
I signaled for him to hush. “Never mind that. It’s good to see you, Olek. Thanks for inviting us, but you’ve already done so much for this family. Please, let me recompense you for the tickets.”
“Hey, I like you, Callsi, but my motivations weren’t all one-sided. Any human who brought a Venlil got free admission. It’s all a marketing ploy; this show is free, so that you’ll spread the word and come back in the future.”
“Like how Kaulin gives free samples of the Earth-flavored liquors.” Jimek perked his ears in understanding. “I liked the grapefruit one.”
I swished my tail. “That was a good one. I’m still surprised Kaulin opened negotiations with the human farmers.”
“You let Jimek drink?!” Olek screeched.
“He’s twelve? It’s not like he’s five.”
“Okay, Callsi, you know you cannot give alcohol to Terran children…right?”
“I don’t know enough about your biology to make that decision. I haven’t given any to Dustin, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well don’t! It would hurt his brain development.”
Dustin’s lips curved down. “Aw. Why did you have to tell her that?”
“Because it’s for your good! Humans under eighteen should not be drinking. Well, that’s the rule in my country. You should ask our embassy for official guidance.”
Concern was plastered across Olek’s pale face; my human regulars had cheerfully explained their expressions to me a few nights ago. The furrow of his brow and the slight parting of his lips clued me into his exact emotions. It was easier now to read emotions beyond hunger into their countenances. I supposed it was important to know that alcohol was harmful to Terran youth.
The male Peacekeeper scratched his chin fur, and forced a smile. He ushered us into the theatre with calm strides; the UN event security (a fixture in Venlil settings since the Terran stampede) waved us in after wanding the two humans. The auditorium was packed to the brim with Venlil, and I wondered what was in store for us. All I could see on the stage was a few props, as the lights began to dim.
We made it just in time. Let’s see what predators consider magic.
Dustin bared his teeth with excitement. “Make sure to watch the magician closely!”
I adhered to his instructions, watching an unassuming Terran stroll onto the stage. His garb was excessive, with a massive black hat adorning his skull. The auditorium went quiet, as he waved a squishy hand at the audience. A few cheers came from the human onlookers, while the Venlil spectators studied him with nervous eyes.
“For your own safety, please rest assured that no animals or humans will be harmed in this act,” an automated voice declared over the speakers. “All stunts provide only the illusion of danger, and have been vetted by the appropriate government entities.”
I leaned over to Dustin. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Hello, everyone!” the ‘magician’ declared. “I’m Davis Conrad, and not to brag on myself, but I was the most famous illusionist on Earth. My show is usually more daring and high-octane than what you’re about to see; I am only going to perform a few classic illusions tonight. “
Olek nodded. “See, Callsi? They sanitized the tricks for the Venlil. It’ll be fine.”
Davis Conrad beamed at the crowd. “I’ve been performing in cities across my planet for years. I know that for most of my Venlil audience, this is your introduction to magic. So without further ado, I say we get to the show. Let’s start with the most signature trick, how’s that sound?”
The magician slipped the black hat off his mane. He swiveled the interior toward the audience, and slowly showed it to the crowd. The Venlil spectators were beginning to lose interest, with bored expressions becoming apparent. Davis tapped the cap a final time, and situated it upside-down in his arms.
“Now, make sure that your eyes don’t leave me. All I need is for you to believe in the impossible, just for a minute.” The human performer was unfazed by the tepid response, and waved a hand mystically over the hat. “And out of thin air, what appears?”
Davis angled the hat slightly back toward the crowd. A white prey animal poked its fluffy head out, and the human scooped it up. I gasped in shock; several Venlil sprang from their seats. How had the predator summoned a meal out of nowhere? If he showed any intention of harming the herbivore, I might’ve passed out altogether.
This had to be some kind of predator deception. Davis’ disclaimer stated that these were classic illusions, which must mean we were being duped. However, the sudden appearance looked quite convincing to all of us. There was no rational explanation for how it had been done; it defied the very laws of reality! No wonder human children found these stunts intriguing.
At least their natural inclinations to deceive others are used for entertainment, not to ruin sapient lives.
Light applause came from the human spectators, and Venlil joined in with tail thumps. Davis handed the prey animal to an assistant, likely to be taken to a cattle pen backstage. The magician basked in the response for a moment, before launching into his next stunt. Venlil onlookers were still riled up, in disbelief over what our eyes told us.
“How did he do that?” Jimek squealed.
Dustin tilted his head. “Sleight of hand. The impressive part is that you don’t see him putting it there. It’s an art, in a way.”
Davis placed a few household objects on the table. “Settle down everyone! There’s much more to see tonight. Making things appear and disappear is only the most basic form of magic.”
The predator performer snatched a coin from the table, and dropped it into his palm. He closed his fist on the metal, to reopen it a second later. More gasps came from the crowd, as the object had vanished altogether. A few Venlil shouted that he’d put it in the other hand, but Davis Conrad was unbothered by the accusations.
The magician pushed his sleeves up, and made a spectacle of showing us his empty palms. As rapturous cheers erupted across the theatre, Davis curled one hand back into a ball. His other hand dropped below the white-knuckled fist, and pulled a blue handkerchief from it. The world started spinning around me, as all logic broke down.
I couldn’t fathom how humans converted deception into art, but I couldn’t look away. Davis stretched out the blue textile, and showed each hand empty once more. The human stuffed the cloth back into his fist, reaching below it again. He tugged the handkerchief out; however, the item he retrieved was red. The magician stretched his hands wide open, revealing the blue fabric was gone.
“There’s no way this is possible!” I hissed. “We saw everything he’s doing. Humans can’t just…”
Dustin leaned forward in his seat. “Isn’t this awesome? This guy’s legit. I loved watching his specials on livestreams.”
The magician was bowing on stage; it seemed he was surprised by how well-received his act was so far. His assistants collected the current props, and wheeled a black box on stage. Davis was loosening up as time progressed, maintaining a toothy smile throughout the act. I watched as a female human with a small frame sauntered up to the magician, and he gestured to her.
“Everyone, meet my assistant Alice! While living on Venlil Prime, I’ve heard often that us ‘predators’ seek bloodlust and violence,” Davis remarked. “If that’s what you still believe…well, I don’t know why you’re here. But you’ll want to watch this next bit.”
Hesitant laughs came from the crowd, but I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of his dialogue. A rack was wheeled onto the stage, with several curved and lengthy blades. The Venlil in the front rows scampered backward, as David armed himself with a weapon of execution. What if the show included attacking spectators?
The performer placed a red fruit atop the box, and hacked his sword at it. The blade cleared through the plant with ease, cleanly lopping it in two. If Davis meant to threaten Venlil into obeying him, he hadn’t needed to demonstrate its sharpness to accomplish that. My heart was hammering in my ribcage. I found myself burrowing into Olek’s chest for comfort; the Peacekeeper soothed me with calming pats.
“Right, I want all of you to say good-bye to Alice here!” Davis quipped, which was met with cold silence. “Relax, all of you, I was told by the UN I could ‘in no way’ saw her in half. So instead, I’ve settled for slicing her to bits.”
Horrified gasps echoed across the auditorium, and I shot a mortified glance at Dustin. Meanwhile, Davis continued his unhinged segment, wrapping his coworker in chains. He opened the box that had been brought on stage, and crammed the smaller predator into it. The magician placed a lid atop the container, trapping Alice inside.
The performer must’ve been joking about slicing Alice in half. It’s dark humor, as they say…the Terrans aren’t sadists. He’s just going to make her vanish, of course.
Screams coursed through the auditorium, as Davis plunged a sword through the heart of the box. Even the humans were gasping, so I doubted this was part of the plan. Several Venlil succumbed to flight instincts, and sprinted for the exit. Olek pinned me in my seat, and rendered me unable to cover Jimek’s eyes. Both my sons were watching this senseless murder!
If I’d been more cogent, I would’ve realized it was progress that Venlil spectators were appalled by a predator being killed on stage. But all I could feel was shock; Dustin hadn’t warned me that magicians executed their crew. Davis Conrad retrieved another blade, determined to finish the job. The human seemed incensed by the lack of blood after the second stab, and jabbed several swords into Alice’s box at once.
I averted my eyes. Tears rolled down my cheek, and choking sobs burst from my throat. I couldn’t watch an innocent Terran be mutilated for sport, at an event designed to teach mysticism to kids. Venlil journalists were filming the incident, chattering about the humans’ predator side. Fleeing spectators were running over each other to escape.
Davis realized he’d lost control of the room. “Please, remain calm everyone! Look back at the box now.”
Swords crisscrossed the entirety of the container, but a delicate hand poked out. The fingers wriggled around, which reignited my logical brain. Alice was still alive somehow! The predators needed to get her out of there, and have medical staff attend to her at once. How could the human spectators, including Dustin, be so desensitized as to watch idly?
“For the record, I was going to stab a few more swords in there.” Davis began pulling each blade out of the box, but I could barely look at him. This was a vicious predator who had no empathy. “But in the public interest, I will cut this act short. I think we lost half the Venlil audience members here.”
The sounds of crying could still be heard across the auditorium, as the magician hurriedly popped the lid off the box. Davis helped a smiling Alice stand; the female assistant was waving to the crowd. The Terran audience members started applauding, which I thought was for her survival. Then, it dawned on me that her form was entirely unharmed.
There wasn’t a single scratch, let alone a massive gash. Also, the chains Davis had tied her in were gone.
The humans didn’t flee or cry because they’ve seen this stunt before. They knew Alice wasn’t really hurt…but how wasn’t she butchered?!
“Can we get paramedics to the back of the theatre? I see some Venlil down,” Davis barked, before touching an earpiece. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m being asked to postpone the rest of the show. We never meant to incite a stampede.”
The human magician hurried off-stage, and UN security guards flanked him. I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Olek rubbed my back soothingly, while Dustin studied me with concern. If this performance’s goal was to stimulate our fear response, then I suppose it was a success. There were remarkable moments in the show, but the last effect was horrifying.
Jimek had shaken the horror, and looked disappointed by the magician’s departure. As for me…I didn’t find believing a human died enjoyable. Whether my sons enjoyed this event or not, I wouldn’t be taking them to any Terran entertainment I hadn’t vetted in the future. Exposing my little Venlil to violence was how we got more drawings of Vana getting hit by a train.
The good news was, Olek ensured we didn’t get swept into a stampede. None of us were hurt, and that was what mattered. I hoped this experience would be a learning opportunity for any open-minded Venlil like myself. Violence was prevalent in human culture, and accepting their kind meant embracing that fact.
It wasn’t like that was a new revelation to me. For Dustin’s sake, I would brush this traumatic experience aside.
A/N
Part 12 is here! Callsi takes her kids to a magic show, and discover the human art form of deception and trickery. However, things go awry when weapons and perceived harm come into play. Is our entertainment incompatible with Venlil sensibilities?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Chapter 13
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 16, 2136
Dustin had been hiding in his room since the magic show, ignoring even food. My foster son took our shock as a personal affront; as usual, he presumed we were on the cusp of sending him away. When I pushed on his door, I found it barricaded from the inside. No amount of pounding would get him to unlock it.
Perhaps I was hallucinating, but I thought I heard something like gunfire echoing from tinny speakers. Instead of being afraid of the predator toting a weapon, I was concerned about Dustin harming himself. The child had a difficult life, and there wasn’t enough I could do for his mental baggage. It felt like no progress had been made on his abandonment complex.
Jimek and I were shoveling down lunch in eerie silence; the table felt empty without the human. Dustin’s placemat jumped out at me like an eyesore. If I could coax him out of his room, I’d happily listen to a tangent on human hunting. Any amount of discomfort was preferable to this seclusion.
Dustin is part of our family. I thought he understood that now.
A thunderous knock rattled the front door, as if someone was hurling their body against it. That was the unmistakable sign that our visitor was a human; the predators went overboard with physical force against inanimate objects. Panic seized my chest, and I feared the worst. What if Dustin had called the embassy to relocate himself preemptively?
I rushed to the door and hurled it open. Olek was back on my doorstep, with his chin growing fluffier by the day. My tail curled up in fear, pondering why he visited unannounced. Had the Peacekeeper decided I was an unfit guardian, due to my continuing frightfulness? The poor guy had to hold me back from stampeding last night.
“W-why are you here?” I stammered.
The human shrank away at my tone. “God, Callsi, the magician scared you that badly? I am so, so sorry, for inviting you and Jimek. We had no idea that Davis jackass would go rogue, but I feel responsible.”
“You’re…here to apologize?”
“I know, I could’ve done it over holopad, but I wanted to deliver the embassy’s apology letter personally. I respect you for taking in an alien who’s like the boogeyman to you. Besides, I wanted to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”
I accepted a parchment from the human, and steered him inside. A sullen Jimek brightened as he spotted “Uncle Bondy”; I hoped my son didn’t use that nickname in front of the conspiracy theorist. Scanning the contents of the letter, the United Nations offered sincere apologies for any trauma caused by last night’s incident. Earth’s government also insisted they had no foreknowledge of the stunt.
“One thing at a time. Davis Conrad is known for his shocking magic, and he played our diplomats like a fiddle.” Olek waved to Jimek as he entered, and relaxed as the little Venlil met his gaze. “I think it was an ego thing. He’s facing charges. He’s lucky no Venlil died, or we’d throw involuntary manslaughter at him.”
“I don’t get how that slipped your notice. The swords he brought to the venue didn’t give it away?”
“Davis told the UN he was doing a sword-swallowing act. That should’ve been pushing the envelope, but he went way off-script.”
“Sword swallowing? Like, he actually eats it?!” Jimek gasped.
“Yep, kiddo! Human performers can eat fire, swords, the whole nine yards. We’re crazy bastards.”
“Watch the cursing!” I snapped. “Jimek’s picked up enough from your people at the bar.”
“Sorry, Callsi. Thought that one was a softball…”
“Never mind that. What’s this about you leaving?”
The human’s expression turned deadly serious. “They’re deploying everyone with formal training. The war is about to ratchet up; we’re shipping out later this week. You won’t be seeing a lot of human soldiers anymore.”
“I…I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said.
Jimek pinned his ears back. “Yeah. Don’t go, Olek. You’re my friend, remember?”
“I’ll be fine!” The Peacekeeper forced a taut smile. “You said I was too old to be your friend, anyways.”
“Where are you even going? Somewhere lame like Tunsas?”
“I’m being assigned to Fahl, the Harchen homeworld. Tell you the truth, I’d rather stay here, but orders are orders. They don’t ask whether you like them, huh?”
Jimek sprang up from the kitchen table, and charged at the massive Peacekeeper. My son wrapped his arms around the bulky human; the beast’s gentleness in embracing the little Venlil was noted. Bondarenko had been a good friend to us, but I had hoped I could repay his kindness one day. Now it appeared our time was running short.
How can I ever thank the man who kickstarted Dustin’s art school? The first human to ever attend my bar, and the one who brought Jimek’s birthday cake?
I pinned my ears back. “I don’t like good-byes. There’s no way I can return the favor for what you’ve done for us.”
“Nah, I got more from you than I ever gave. Seeing Dustin and Jimek reminded me who I am. You helped me, well, stay human,” Olek growled.
Jimek kept clinging to the Peacekeeper. “Please help us with Dustin, Ollie! He’s avoiding us.”
I sighed under Bondarenko’s quizzical gaze. “He’s upset that I was scared of that egomaniacal human last night. I don’t condemn your species for one man, but Dustin won’t let me tell him that. He’s locked himself in his room.”
“Is that so?” the Terran asked. “I can help you get him out.”
“Thanks, Olek…but it goes beyond this one incident. The only way I can prove we won’t get rid of him is to make this permanent. I don’t want any government authorities to have the power to rehome him on a dime. Is there any way to adopt Dustin officially?”
“Are you sure about that, Callsi? That’s a big decision, and it’s irrevocable.”
“Surer than I’ve been about anything. I think of him as my son already.”
“Okay then. We should ask if that’s what Dustin wants first, before we start arranging things.”
Guilt stabbed at my chest, as I realized I hadn’t solicited the Terran’s opinion on his living situation. Perhaps Dustin wanted to relocate to a human family, either now or down the road. I couldn’t blame him for wishing to return to Earth instead of living on an alien world. After all, how could a Venlil compare to a Terran parent in meeting his needs? Our modest life might not suit the Canadian orphan either.
Bondarenko removed Jimek’s arms, and marched toward Dustin’s room with certain steps. The Peacekeeper raised a finger at me, then slammed his shoulder into the door. I flinched as the door wobbled; if the large predator leaned into it a little more, he’d blast the frame clean off its hinges. That was one way to undo the barricade, but I hadn’t intended for his help to entail property damage.
“DUSTIN!” Olek roared. “You open this door right now, or I’ll kick it down. Then I’ll have Callsi use your art school funds to fix it. You know I’ll do it, so open up!”
A muted gasp could be heard from the room, followed by scurrying footsteps. There was a scraping sound, as Dustin dragged away something blocking the door. Bondarenko tested the handle, and immediately shoved his way inside. The Terran orphan had abandoned some electronic device on the floor; it seemed to be some gunfighting simulation.
That explained the bullet noises, though it didn’t ease my worry about the kid’s mental state. My heart ached to think of the human grappling with emotional turmoil.
“Please go away, Olek?” Dustin croaked. “I know they’re mad at me. I begged them to go to that show, and I made Callsi cry.”
I scowled at him. “You did not make me cry! Watching someone get stabbed made me upset, but you had nothing to do with it.”
“You’ve tried really hard to be nice, but you don’t have to do this anymore. I make things worse, just by being here. I’m a mistake…a fuck-up.”
“Don’t you ever say that again! I took you to that show because I wanted you to feel at home. Anything ‘nice’ was done because you’re my son. No child of mine will ever be a mistake.”
“I’m not your child. I’m an alien predator, and that’s all I ever can be! Everything about me and humanity scares you. Why wouldn’t you want me gone?!”
“I just have a hard time with violent things, darling. That doesn’t mean I’m scared of you, or that I wish you weren’t here.”
“You’re just saying that. Nobody—”
“How would you feel about us adopting you, Dustin? Is that something you would want?”
The human child froze, and blinked with disbelief. Water swelled in his eyes, before flowing over onto his cheeks in rivulets. His hand covered his mouth, suppressing choking gasps. Struggling to rein in his emotions, the orphan gave a shaky nod. I approached him with slow steps, and ensnared him in a warm hug. I could feel the quivering of his chest, alongside the warmth of his body heat.
Tears blossomed in my own gaze. “That’s a yes? He nodded yes, Olek.”
The Terran soldier’s lips curved up. “I’ll get the ball rolling for you before I ship out. I can’t make any promises. There isn’t much precedent, but we’ll need the legal status recognized on Venlil Prime and by the United Nations. A full adoption might take time.”
“I understand. Does that make sense to you, Dustin?”
“Yes,” my foster son whispered. “Thank you. T-thank you.”
Jimek’s ears perked up. “We’re gonna be real, legal brothers! My brother is a predator…that makes me a badass!”
“A certified badass.” Olek chuckled in his low register, and flashed his teeth. “Well, I won’t outstay my welcome guys. I’ve got a lot to do, and I need to put in your adoption request. I guess this is farewell.”
I was tempted to ask the Peacekeeper to stay and eat lunch with us; this could be the last time we ever saw him. But gazing into his eyes, I realized Bondarenko was on the verge of tears. The big guy didn’t want to have a breakdown in front of us. Protecting the strong human’s pride was the least I could do, after how faithful of a friend he’d been.
To think I feel such heart-wrenching sorrow over a predator soldier leaving my homeworld. It’s a strange, new era we live in.
The four of us walked to the front door, and I placed a paw atop Olek’s swollen bicep. The Peacekeeper studied me for a long moment, before pulling me into a hug. It was a brief embrace, which the human cut short a second later. He stepped back with an awkward cough, and ducked out onto the driveway. He shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing a grin.
“You know, the Harchen put a lot of money into tech. What are they really building?” the predator asked. “An AI on the down-low? A network commissioned by the Kolshians to spy on other planets? I’m going to investigate.”
I chuckled to myself. “You do that, Olek. Stay safe, alright?”
“You too. Oh, and don’t let the boys slack on their studies. They’re too smart to expect anything but the best, you hear me?”
“On that, we’re agreed. There are bright things in their future.”
“And in yours, Callsi. It was an honor to meet such a trailblazer. Don’t discount yourself, eh?”
The Peacekeeper whirled around, and jogged off down the driveway. It was a glum moment, knowing Olek was heading to a hostile world far from Venlil Prime. At least Terrans had an odd rule about not taking teenagers for basic military training; I didn’t have to worry about the UN whisking my son away. When Dustin became a legal adult, there was no telling how the war could affect us.
For now, I was happy to live a quiet life. I herded Dustin back into the kitchen, ruffling his mane. The human child ducked away from my paws, and Jimek snickered at him. I loved our family dynamic, which had been created through trial and error. No matter how long it took for the adoption to go through officially, it was a done deal in my book.
The predator had a permanent home under my roof, and a special place in my heart.
A/N
The penultimate part is here! Callsi decides to adopt Dustin, and bids farewell to a Peacekeeper friend as the galaxy mobilizes. How do you feel about the human child gaining a permanent home? Also, what are the Harchen really up to with their tech?!
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! The epilogue will be short and sweet. There may be down time after for planning the human exterminators series coming April 1, but I'm including an Onso one-shot on Wed 3/22 to lessen the wait.
Chapter 14
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 29, 2136
With human soldiers shipping out to postings across the galaxy, there were a lot less predators frequenting my bar. There was a void where Olek, Lisa, and company had been; those had been my friends, for the better part of a month. Even Kaulin remarked on their absence, though I think my boss missed their spending habits.
Venlil customers had returned in full force, and grown accustomed to the presence of human refugees. On this mid-day shift, there was a lone female predator in the bar. Tibek, the crabby veteran who once insisted Dustin would eat Jimek, was learning an ancient Terran game from her. I leaned over the counter, studying the checkered board.
“This game is just a simulation of war strategy,” Tibek complained. “The entire object is to leave the enemy’s ruler with no chance of escape!”
The dark-haired predator snorted. “You hung your queen. Now c’mon, you see the same 64 squares as me. You need to pay better attention, that’s all.”
“You have an unfair advantage, Maya. It’s all attacking and aggression! It’s overwhelming!”
The human’s attempt to teach the Venlil retiree “chess” had not been fruitful; the predatory objectives of the game made that a trying endeavor. But I think she was enjoying Tibek’s frazzled reactions every time he missed a move. There was no reason he couldn’t play defense, at least.
“You just have to predict your opponent’s move. Think about what I’m going to play, not what you’re planning to do!” Maya said.
Tibek waved a paw dismissively. “Drink your pisswater beer, human. When you lose ‘pawns’ in real life, it’s not some trivial affair for Venlil. I was a pawn, a foot soldier, during the raid that killed Tarva’s daughter.”
“You think I don’t understand? My entire unit was…slaughtered defending a Gojid daycare, as I watched. I was calling in an airstrike, and I wound up stranded…alone for days. I was a ‘pawn’, and I still see all the other pawns’ faces every night.”
“I’m sorry. I still see my friends dying and screaming w-when I close my eyes too. All the images of death and decay, stars. H-how did you get off the cradle?”
“Long story, but I found other humans at a school. We talked the Gojids into letting us inside a bunker, and we were lucky enough not to get buried. Boys in blue showed up days later, took us all to Earth. Then…you know the rest. Dragged myself to a refugee camp here.”
“You’re crying, predator?”
“I…no. Excuse me.”
Maya pawed at her face, and rushed over to the restroom. I shook my head to myself; Tibek was oblivious to how sensitive Terrans were at heart. It must’ve been traumatic for this soldier to have been thrust into an Arxur raid. If I remembered her chat with another human yesterday, she was granted an honorable discharge for something called “PTSD.” Warfare’s stressors did a number even on predators.
If she doesn’t return in a few minutes, I’ll go check on her. I don’t want to turn a blind eye to a breakdown.
The front door was jammed open, and a bedraggled Venlil stumbled into the bar. I didn’t recognize this man, whose silver fur was caked in grime. Scars crisscrossed his body; emaciated ribs were visible through missing clumps of his pelt. Faded red marks lined his neck, and I wondered if it was from self-mutilation.
This guy didn’t look well at all, and I couldn’t stop gawking at him. It took a substantial effort to peel my ears up, rather than show signs of concern. It would be impolite to ask what was wrong with him outright. This ragged Venlil filtered in during the slow time of day, so my boss wouldn’t be happy if I scared him off. Was it even ethical to give someone so clearly down on their luck a drink?
Hell, he needs it. Just treat him like any other customer, and show him some love.
“Hello, good sir! What can I interest you in?” Not knowing what to say, I defaulted to Kaulin’s sales pitch. “Our special today is grapefruit-flavored malt liquor; authentic predator taste in a Venlil drink!”
My cheery tone seemed to add to his fright, and his mouth dropped open. The strange Venlil stared at the bar taps, as though they might spread some wicked illness. Other customers were staring at him, scanning his gaunt body. I couldn’t help but feel pity, even after suspecting he was a human bigot.
My ears tucked themselves against my head, and I fixed him a glass of water. The Venlil lapped at the liquid with his tongue rather than sipping it, before offering his thanks. I barely registered the question about predator taste, before I realized it was about my advertisement. The words about human fruit came out automatically, but I was struggling to process his appearance.
“—Venlil businesses buy up the leftovers.”
Anger sparked in his eyes. “You trade with them? Are you insane?!”
“I won’t tolerate racism in this establishment.”
The callous reference to humans raised my hackle fur, and I snatched the water glass away. My blood simmered, thinking that any Venlil would still refer to Dustin as an animal. Hadn’t there been ample time for adjustments in the capital? The predators proved their good intentions every day, and bent over backward to accommodate our sensibilities.
“I sponsored a human refugee, bless his heart.” My voice softened as I continued. The image of Dustin’s painting, purple Jimek and all, was emblazoned in my mind. “He was part of a group from a Terran orphanage. The poor thing was so young, and so eager to please. A hard life made harder.”
“Refugee? I don’t understand,” the customer croaked, with a mystified expression.
“Everyone knows why humans came here. What they lost. Are you okay, sir?”
“Uh, f-fine. Sorry, just having a rough day.”
This encounter was becoming stranger by the moment, so I opted to give him some space. The Venlil tilted his head up to the mounted TVs, the same ones that proclaimed Cilany’s news to the establishment. I watched him out of my periphery, and noticed how his distress became more evident. Tarva’s lackeys were doing media circuits, gathering support for war against the Federation.
General Kam is a major human apologist. When Nishtal fell, he immediately told social media the UN had no choice. He’s justifying Arxur support even now!
I was sympathetic to the injustice humans faced, but including the grays was another matter. While the Terrans were an empathetic race, the Arxur snacked on sapient beings. It wasn’t important that the Kolshians started the war. What the Dominion did in response was monstrous; they would call children like Jimek a delicacy.
The disheveled Venlil slumped his shoulders. “Hey, bartender…what happened to that predator refugee?”
Paperwork. Lots of paperwork, red tape, and governments dragging their feet. The UN was a sluggish bureaucracy, when there was no emergency crisis at play.
The foster program didn’t anticipate such rapid attachment to our humans. I suppose they hadn’t foreseen me utilizing their bribe funds to get Dustin a proper room and bed either. It broke my heart that so many families dropped out of the program early on. If I’d given into my initial terror…
“I’m working on adopting him. We barely have enough to make ends meet, even with the government stipends,” I replied honestly. “But I can give him love and support. Humans need a nurturing environment. They’re simple creatures, really.”
The Venlil’s ears flailed with disgust. “You think you can raise a monster as a prey child?! Put it under your roof like a Venlil?! It doesn’t want your love. It wants to EAT YOU!”
Rage simmered in my mind, recalling how those kind of words wounded Dustin. The constant fear and hatred brought him to tears multiple times. Even Tibek knew by now that my human child would never consider eating us. All the orphan wanted was love; he wanted to belong on Venlil Prime. He cared about us, enough to protect Jimek and draw pictures of us.
People like this unstable guy are standing in the way of progress. They want my adopted child dead, and his kind wiped from the universe.
“How dare you speak like that about my son!” Brushing all sympathy aside for this Venlil, I matched his anger. “You’re disgusting. Get the fuck out of my bar!”
Tibek stood from the chessboard. “Leave at once, ya fucking prick!”
Even Kaulin didn’t want this would-be customer, and his eyes narrowed. “Get out of here, freeloader! The humans have more mettle than scum like you.”
The racist Venlil cowered under the scrutiny, as every patron in the bar turned against him. As sickening as his verbalized bigotry was, the others’ solidarity with humanity increased my faith in Venlilkind. I bit back a scathing send-off, and watched as the vagrant vacated the premises. That was what I got for trying to help someone down on his luck, I suppose.
Maya tiptoed out of the restroom, and craned her head. “Well, I caught all of that. Sounds like I dodged a bullet. Humanophobes can be nasty.”
“I’m just glad Dustin isn’t here,” I chimed in. “That would’ve stung for him to hear.”
Tibek flicked his ears. “I wish Dustin was here! He could’ve mashed up that fuckwit’s face just like he did to Cylek. Say, what was his line afterward…”
“Hang on, I got this.” Maya lowered her voice an octave, and struck a threatening pose. “I will end you.”
“Believe it or not, Venlil like that one frighten Dustin. Especially the yellers,” I said.
“Ha, they scare me too. Know why? They’d all like to scorch me with a flamethrower, because most of them are or were exterminators. I bet that guy was too.”
“The exterminators aren’t hateful across the board.” Tibek moved one of the white pieces, and gestured for the human to sit. “Just like humans aren’t all bad. Only the Arxur are wholly evil.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s that simple, Tibek. Some of the Arxur get kicked around by their own people. They feel a little less than we do, and they’re guided by their stomachs. But I don’t know, there’s—"
“Human? Shut up.”
Maya raised her eyebrows, but lifted a black piece in silence. I wiped down the counters, and tried to erase the prior incident from my mind. The interaction between two veterans, human and Venlil, was a sight that led me to believe my son could fit in. Hell, Dustin would probably know the history of this “chess”, and have some lecture ready about how it shaped human warfare. He was a smart kid.
Checking that Kaulin wasn’t watching, I risked a glance at my holopad. I scrolled through my photo album, and found one of Dustin and Jimek at the bar. The human had a cheeky smile on his face, as he raised the little Venlil’s math textbook above his head. Jimek was straining to grab it, not looking at the camera. The duo loved to play around with each other, perhaps a little too much.
I pulled up Dustin’s contact, and wondered if he was having a good day at school. He’d excelled at his academics, forging a path for intelligent predators to succeed. From what I heard, he was starting to make some tentative friendships too. The mumbled request to bring a Venlil classmate over to play tomorrow was almost inaudible.
I was just thinking about you, darling, I texted my son. No matter what anyone says to you, I love you.
My claw tapped the send button, and I cast a wistful stare at the ceiling. What started out as a way to fund Jimek’s creativity gifted me another son. Time taught me how endearing humans were, and opened my eyes to nature’s truth. My heart was filled with love, which I’d never thought a predator could invoke. How could I have asked for anything better?
A/N
The final part of Venlil Foster Program! I hope you guys enjoyed this two month journey. We get to see Glim's visit to the bar from Callsi's eyes, along with an unexpected cameo for longtime readers. A hopeful view into the future for Venlil Prime and for Dustin!
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! Onso one-shot coming Wednesday to fill the gap.