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The Nature of Predators 2-1
🕑 Added 2024-01-08 12:00:07 +0000 UTCMemory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist
Date [standardized human time]: March 13, 2160
Attempts to send messages and search the skies’ radio signals for alien lifeforms usually entailed a quiet day at the office.
I was one of the preeminent experts on how Bissems would react to a first contact scenario, having written several papers on the subject; the protocols that Fishing for Alien Intelligence (FAI) had were created by me and a few veteran leaders from the institution’s founding. It had always been a dream and a passion that consumed me, imagining what could be up in the stars. Would extraterrestrials be like us, or so radically different that we couldn’t fathom it? Did they share our curiosity? If they contacted us in a non-aggressive manner, it had to be due to an interest in our people. What could they teach us, if we were able to communicate in a tangible way?
Of course, I imagined that first contact would be identifying a radio message, or a garbled attempt to respond to our calls into the void, detected from a neighboring star system. It had been a few decades since my nation, Lassmin, launched the FAI program and began sending probes throughout our local planets. It would’ve been possible for signals to reach stars within a few decades of light travel, assuming it hadn’t been blotted out by dust clouds and cosmic radiation. As much as my childhood fantasies loved to toy at my mind, they were just that: fantasies. Aliens landing on the polar subspecies’ ice shelf made a great thumbnail for a science fiction movie, but space was too large to traverse distances in a lifetime.
If there were extraterrestrials capable of reaching our star system, their technology would have to be so far beyond our own. There would be no telling what they’re capable of…I imagined various nations wouldn’t be pleased with being entirely at their mercy.
I had no idea what was going on when a convoy of military vehicles trundled up to our observatory, and Bissems decked flipper-to-toe in combat gear barreled in the front door—barking orders, and demanding that everyone abandon their workstation. My first thought was that one of Kail’s cultists had infiltrated our space program, and was attempting to sabotage our search of the stars. What was I supposed to think? That morphed into confusion when a soldier grabbed me as I exited, announced “she’s Dr. Tassi, sir!”, then shoved me into the back of a military vehicle without any explanation. There was no way they suspected me of being an extremist or a saboteur!
As I protested, with indignant questions about my rights, a hardened face shushed me from the adjacent seat. General Naltor, his tag read. That name jogged my memory, suggesting that he was someone far up the chain of command. My eyes widened once I remembered the full story…Naltor had been one of the first Selmer, the arctic subspecies, to defect from the South Pole’s ancient kingdom. When we received independence from the tropical Vritala’s primary power, we’d invited all subspecies to live under our dome. Few that weren’t Vritala took us up on the offer; Naltor was a trailblazer.
Bissem history was complicated, with the major powers still reeling from the Global War, and with three subspecies bearing major physiological differences that kept us apart. It was part of the reason I’d concluded in my paper that we weren’t ready for contact with aliens. I wasn’t certain we’d be able to present a unified front, and to make a positive, irrevocable first impression on visitors. Perhaps part of the reason my fantasy persisted, occupying my waking thoughts, was the wish that some foreign power would descend and enlighten us.
I focused my gaze on Naltor, trying to prevent my mind from wandering. “What the fuck is going on? Why is a politically important general here, after your goons abducted me, a civilian? I swear I heard your soldiers shutting down all communications, and ordering the other FAI scientists to stay locked down indefinitely. We’ve done nothing wrong!”
“It’s nothing that you’ve done, Dr. Tassi.” The Selmer general was much taller than me, and his features much more rotund, but I could recognize a hint of panic in his eyes. “I…need your expertise. We have a situation.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To these coordinates,” Naltor answered, pointing to a highlighted map dot on his tablet. “Approximately two hours ago, a signal was transmitted through our encryption to the highest entities in our government. All analysis shows that it’s from the deepest recesses of the solar system. Let that sink in. Unless this is a fascinating hoax by a jealous rival, we believe that it’s…not from us. Not Bissem in origin.”
I froze in place, uncertain how to react to the very news that I’d been waiting for my entire life; it was too good to be true. Surely it would be disproven somehow: a space probe being hacked, or a rival power bouncing transmissions off of our satellites. My first thought would’ve been that it was a natural phenomenon, except for the fact that its purposeful targeting belied intelligence. There was so much to digest in what General Naltor told me, from the signal’s senders being able to crack military-grade encryption like it was nothing, to the possibility of them being present in our solar system. This felt surreal, like one of the dreams I wished I wouldn’t wake up from at night!
The analysis must’ve determined that the signal’s origin is close by, since Naltor didn’t say deep space. Have they come here looking for us…or maybe they’ve located us by accident, and have been studying us?
I sucked in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the moment’s gravity. “Not Bissem in origin. Wow…I’m at a loss for words. I’m not sure we’re ready for this, General, but we have to get this right. The first thing we should do is notify the Tseia, the Vritala, and the Selmer nations. All of the subspecies need to put aside our differences; we have to work together on this. We can’t keep foreign powers out of this.”
“We’re already sending a message through diplomatic channels. The fact is, these aliens contacted us; there’s no reports of the others receiving any communication,” Naltor responded. “The faction that preaches Bissem Unity, and that isn’t divided. First contact’s meeting is something that we are meant to handle, though we…must be vigilant. Ivrana is our planet, and she needs protection. I’m concerned about allowing the aliens to trespass in our airspace, with whatever weapons and diseases they might have.”
“Slow down. Trespass in our airspace? What the fuck are you talking about? Is that why we’re speeding off to some point on a tablet?”
“Yeah. When the message was decoded…it was in binary. Numbers, Tassi: it was coordinates to the Gray Basin. We weren’t sure about whether to bring FAI into the loop, but we couldn’t have this spreading to the public yet. We don’t know what they want, so we had to scramble snipers…a defense response. We’re just hoping their message means they’re sending a greeting party, and not ramming relativistic weapons down our beaks! We don’t know anything about their intentions, who or what they are, and what kind of threat they constitute.”
“One thing at a time. We don’t know that they constitute a threat at all. I can hear the panic in your voice, but that is not the mentality we should have. I don’t like the idea of greeting them with a military entourage at all, especially after they found such a simple…beautiful way to communicate. It’s obvious they want to talk to us. We should view this as an opportunity to learn things that are beyond the scope of our knowledge. This will be a defining moment in Bissem history!”
“We don’t know that they don’t constitute a threat, and I’m not willing to take a gamble. I respect your optimism, but I’m not in the business of optimism. Let me ask you, Doctor; what happened to Nelmin’s natives, when the Selmer and the Vritala showed up? They’re not around to tell you anymore. What I see is that we are the natives now…and they are the ones washing ashore. We in Lassmin might just be the first ones whose lives and livelihoods they want to take, because we’re the peaceful ones!”
Discomfort bubbled in my gut, with that unpleasant theory between us. “Let’s not start with worst case scenarios. This is an advanced race, who went out of their way to contact us, and who do not seem hostile. Space is a lot further distance to travel than an ocean.”
“Yet they’re here, Tassi. And no, I don’t want to shoot them down, to risk pissing them off; so I have to wait and find out. We’re going right where they asked us, because we have no choices—and I don’t like that. You wrote the first contact protocol. Tell me how we fucking do this. What do we even say?”
“I…don’t know, though I’m delighted to be a part of this. We need to extend our flipper in peace if anyone does arrive. We don’t know what those coordinates mean. While they would be perfect to land a ship, they could be sending down a probe or other message. Perhaps they want to establish a radio link there. Whatever they sent the solar system message from…it might not even be manned.”
“Okay. Let’s assume we do talk to them, one way or another. How the fuck do we extend peaceful sentiments to aliens?! How do we communicate, and avoid being misunderstood?”
I was struggling to conjure up a plan of action, even as our dot grew closer to the Gray Basin; no matter how worried General Naltor was about leaks, I wished he’d brought a few other FAI scientists into the loop. It was concerning how the military was suppressing information, as well as any chance that we’d notify the Bissem populace. The internet would make it too easy for this to spread, though I wasn’t sure how they’d handle a stray camera capturing a strange craft landing…or videos of FAI staff being locked up by armed personnel. Rumors would get out, one way or another; it was the handling that left me alarmed about how Lassmin’s government would address the visitors.
The fact that our nations mistrusted each other was an issue, but my country’s fear toward the aliens and over our own people’s reactions didn’t assure me that they’d make sound judgments. This wasn’t something we could afford to bungle. While I’d love to believe that the extraterrestrials had peaceful sentiments, offending or antagonizing them could have catastrophic consequences for our civilization. I wished I had more time to plan this process, but I figured we needed to start with a small gesture.
It must not be anything that can be misinterpreted, no matter how simple its meaning is to us. That rules out any of our emotional cues and nonverbals. It’s important to define our own assumptions, and avoid falling into those pitfalls.
Language was the primary issue with communication, given that, for all we knew, they might not even have verbal language. The aliens had shown us a roadmap through their usage of binary, reflecting that they understood both mathematics and computers…it wasn’t impossible they were AI, with that in mind, but I didn’t address that possibility for my sanity. While using numerals wouldn’t be plausible, we could communicate in groupings of dots to form common ground. Assuming they were organic lifeforms, mirroring body language was inadvisable: we wouldn’t know what it meant, or how it played into their potential hierarchy. Auditory and luminescent stimuli might work, except we didn’t know if those would generate an adverse reaction.
In essence, all I had was a basic way to demonstrate numbers, drawing rudimentary pictures on a chalkboard (perhaps teaching them a few simple words in the process), and a prayer to Hirs that his will would save us. Wonderful.
“Please tell me you’ve thought to bring along some kind of whiteboard.” I breathed a sigh of relief, as Naltor signaled the affirmative with a beak toss. “I would start simple. We can draw pictures of ourselves, standing beside them, and hope they grasp that as friendship. Maybe count out numbers with dots, and teach them our numerals. Show our understanding of mathematics as an expression of sapience.”
The Selmer general blinked with a flustered expression. “I don’t have anything better. I’m leaving full discretion to you, Tassi. I’ll be right beside you, of course, but I want you to take the lead. Anything you need, you have authorization to ask for it.”
“In that case, I’ll take a blank check bonus from the government.”
“Hmph. If you find a way to communicate with aliens, I could probably almost get you that. Good luck, Doctor. We’re all rooting for you, and…we all want to keep Ivrana safe.”
“I know, General. Let’s just not be afraid of them, until we see what they want. That’s assuming we interpreted their binary correctly; the numbers could have meant something else entirely. We’re assuming they think the same as us.”
“There are too many variables involved with this entire affair. I wish these people would just…leave! We’re not equipped for something like this.”
“We never would be, but we’ve found ourselves in this position. Please, try to keep calm. That’s the best way we can show our peaceful intentions.”
Naltor ducked his head in acknowledgement, trying to hide how his wings were trembling. It was rare to see an arctic-inclined Selmer shivering on our temperate continent, yet I knew it was because this proud man was petrified. For my part, I was both nervous and excited; the endless possibilities were running amok in my head, a thousand implausible scenarios that I pictured time and again. If these beings were hostile out of the gate, I recognized there was nothing we could do; fretting about it wouldn’t change their intentions. Always assuming a worst-case scenario meant we’d never waddle into any ocean of knowledge. It was against the spirit of curiosity.
Of all the instances I imagined, it was never that the non-Bissem intelligence would be hostile…perhaps because I always thought the brutish colonizations that transpired on our world were fool’s errands. Let’s hope my one assumption—that an advanced society would feel the same—is correct. It must be.
My primary concern was that I would make a mistake with ripple effects on our planet’s interstellar relations. Bearing the full responsibility for introducing the Bissem race to aliens was a daunting task; there’d been no warning or prep time, as I’d been ripped away from the safety of my desk. This was a critical moment for our species. What I did today could define our very future, and I didn’t take that reality lightly. There was no telling how long we’d wait for them, what we’d discover, or whether they’d already sent something to our location millions of years ago.
Anything was possible…but I was ready. My flipper latched around the vehicle’s door handle, and I hopped out onto the rocky ground. Warm air circulated around me, saving me from the chill of nerves running down my spine. I cast my gaze up at the sky, as the convoy skidded to a halt; General Naltor joined me, though at my urging, he prevented the armed personnel from disembarking. I knew snipers were monitoring the location, but at least this way, Bissems with assault weapons wouldn’t be the first thing visible to the aliens’ surveillance.
I was prepared to sit back and wait for as many hours as necessary for a slight sign, but it only took a few minutes for the fateful moment to arrive. My beak parted in awe, when a gray silhouette pierced the clouds, descending with light expulsions from its thrusters. Naltor looked like he could barely resist calling in the anti-aircraft weapons, since the vessel hadn’t registered on his radar. The aliens must’ve been monitoring this location for our arrival via satellite imaging, or something that gave them a view from space. Our analysts were correct about their message being coordinates in our geomapping system—a thought that only just dawned on me, for why the Lassian military’s interpretation should’ve been absurd.
There was no time for that thought, and the implications it carried, to sink in. Our greeting party was going to discover firsthand just how much these creatures knew about Bissems, and how long they’d been observing us, in mere seconds. The vessel’s landing gear had touched down on the flat, rocky surface, sitting for a few moments while its propulsion system cooled off. A ramp opened from its belly, and I approached it with intrigued, inspired caution. Naltor couldn’t resist calling in the soldiers, after seeing movement. I was horrified, as twitchy-flippered servicemen trained guns on the platform from close range, but there was nothing I could do to get the general to back off. Hopefully, the aliens would forgive that transgression.
The lower limbs of three beings, who seemed to be from drastically different species, appeared at the top of the ramp. Their movements were slow, but with deliberate progress, and their features were cloaked beneath spacesuits; I took the time to soak in everything that I could gather about their forms. These were organic lifeforms similar to us, with an anatomy that was recognizable in many ways. Each of the creatures had two legs for bipedalism, two manipulator limbs, and a head atop their torso. Interestingly, none of them resembled Bissems, in the sense of looking avian; they seemed more like mammals than beings with wings.
I could see the tallest alien leading the way, with long, flexible appendages and nimble digits beneath its gloves. A creature with stout legs, and extra space to accommodate a seemingly puffy spine, followed the lumbering being. The final member of the three was the only one that had a spot for a tail built into its suit, and it seemed both the shortest and the slowest of the posse. It was impossible to discern the features of any of their craniums, hidden beneath opaque, spherical masks. Questions raced in my mind, since it was evident these were different species.
Did multiple sapient races evolve on the same planet, resulting in even starker differences than between Bissem subspecies? Was there something else at play here entirely? Who were they, and what did they want? How did they plan to approach first contact, once they reached the bottom of the ramp…and would General Naltor’s army scare them off?
Despite the tremendous uncertainty, I found myself wandering closer to the visitors, until I stood right where the ramp met rocky ground. The aliens halted a flipper’s length away from me, seeming to size me up. I could feel the tension from the Lassian military, as their weapon barrels kept watch over the first interaction. My heart was hammering in my chest, desperate to find out what would happen. However, the next occurrence was about as shocking of an outcome as I could fathom.
The tall creature turned its head slightly, as a microphone projected a gravelly voice from inside its helmet. “Greetings from the people of the Sapient Coalition. We come in peace.”
I nearly tipped over in disbelief, while gasps sounded among the military observers. The alien had greeted us in perfect Vrit: our language. That…that should not have been possible.
A/N - It begins! Dr. Tassi is alerted to a sudden transmission at the edges of the solar system, as Bissem nation Lassmin scrambles a military response, understanding it to be coordinates. Tassi thinks of all sorts of possibilities, tries to calm a panicked General Naltor, and tries to plan how to communicate. However, her plans are torn apart when the landing party speaks in their language.
What do you think of the Bissems' reaction to first contact? What are your expectations from the Sapient Coalition party...and how do you expect them to handle this fishing-centric species, decades after the Federation's collapse?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
Tazeell
Heck ya! First contact here we go!
Colin Jordan
Somehow you have captured the exact feelings I felt when reading the first chapters of NOP. Well done im hooked.
Jacob Blankenship
It just hit me, how much a migraine it would be integrating Mathematics and systems if they used something other than base-10
John
Or it’s Tarva’s daughter.
Rusty Deviant
I feel like the shortest member of the party is an older Tarva here to help with first contact for humanity again, but this time on our side. Something about the slower motions really makes me think so.
