Chapter 115: (Nakteti) (2/2)

Nakteti shivered again. Not from fear, but from the memory of the prepubescent primate's eyes.

She'd watched an ancient movie, where a human male had survived a plane crash and washed up on an island, where he had pack-bonded with a round synthetic ball with a handprint made into a smiley face on it.

They'd pack-bond with a rock if the loneliness got intense enough, she thought to herself. They would scratch eyes into the rock and hold conversations with it.

She sat, sipping her drink, watching the thunder, lightning, wind and rain, feeling the rumble of the thunder in her bones, feeling the cold wetness on her fur, considering what she'd learned.

The idea that the Lanaktallan were so hilariously outclassed by everything about the Terran Confederacy was so alien that Nakteti could understand why the Lanaktallan couldn't even comprehend it.

For over a hundred million years they had ruled over everything they saw. They had won the Precursor War and that was good enough to never bother changing again.

Now the Terrans, whom to the Lanaktallan were nothing more than upstarts in need of 'gentling', were coming down on the Lanaktallan sphere of influence with enough firepower to level anything in their paths.

She was pretty sure that the Lanaktallans had no idea just how badly they were going to lose.

Nakteti put her chin in one of her catching hands, holding her drink with a gripping hand, and stared at the city beyond her.

Do the Terrans understand how insane, how unlikely, how impossible*, what is happening really is? This is like leaving a food storage unit full of food unplugged for a few weeks, coming back, and having a completely new creature jump out of the unit with a laser gun and shoot you in the face followed by a few billion of its friends,* she thought to herself. She knew, right now, without a doubt, someone on the planet was having a celebration with friends and tried to remember the last celebration she had been a part of.

She couldn't think of one.

Nakteti had thought a lot about Lanaktallan culture since she had been to the Valley of the Kings. No celebrations, no holidays, not mythos, just a simple ”work, consume, breed, obey” ethos that filled every single day.

Empty lives, she thought to herself. Terrans would call those lives empty and not understand them.

She finished her drink, setting it on the table and watching it dissolve, reclaimed by the machine. She dialed up another one, letting the dispenser know she wanted to watch it being crafted over fifteen seconds.

It's like magic, she thought, watching as the 'glass' was built from the bottom up and then liquid started filling it before the liquid was given a light spin to mix it and the fruit was created above the liquid to plop in due to the gravity.

It fascinated her to watch. Not just the action, but that the food dispenser would be programmed to let you watch it create something.

An advertisement across the way, a huge Tri-Vid screen that showed advertisements showed two sweating Terran men grappling, wearing white wigs, elaborate outfits, attempting to pin or force the other one to submit. The caption read: ”See the Election of the King of Burgerland reenactment!”

She cocked her head, looking at it.

The Terrans knew that it was unlikely that the depicted struggle was actually how ancient Terrans elected officials, but they loved the idea.

That's obviously bullshit, but it's cool, so I believe it, she heard a Terran voice say in her memories.

We have no history. It was taken from us and we didn't even know, her own voice answered.

Nakteti leaned back, holding the drink in her hand. Idly, she pinged her datalink and got a com-link number. She set her drink on the table, got up, and went and got dressed, coming back out and turning the protective field up high enough to push the rain and wind away.

She made a call.

The human who answered looked surprised to see her. It took him a minute to put it together, then he rubbed his eyes and obviously sat up, the picture auto-rotating with him.

”Um, Captain Nahk-tethee?” he said.

Nakteti nodded slowly. ”Yes, human Natchez.”

”How did you get my private com-link number?” The human asked, looking surprised.

”Diplomatic authority,” Nakteti said. ”If you are not interested in what I'm about to offer you, then I can look up the next human of your profession.”

She watched the entire thought process run through his brain in a second.

”Not at all, Captain. How can I help you?” he asked.

”You are a visual media creator. Specifically, movies, correct?” Nakteti asked. The human nodded and Nakteti bared her teeth to imitate a human smile. ”Excellent. I have a job for you.”

The human frowned. ”What?”

”I have, in my possession, all of the logs from when my ship was attacked by the Precursor that started this whole war. I want you to do a dramatization of my people's part in it all,” Nakteti said. She gave the human smile again. ”I, personally, will be funding all of it.”

Nakteti typed a number into the display's interface.

”Is that enough to wake you up, Natchez Human?” she asked.

His eyes widened then his face went carefully neutral. ”It definitely has my attention.”

”Good. I will get a hold of you shortly. I will be clearing you to see the video logs of what happened so that you can do a drama of what happened,” Nakteti said.

”Not a documentary?” The human asked.

Nakteti shook her head. ”No. Drama it up. I'll approve of it or disapprove of it, but punch it up really good. I want an exciting story of love, betrayal, and danger, culminating in my people making it to Terran space to be rescued.”

The human nodded slowly. ”Based on a true story, type, not dramatization of real events type?”

Nakteti smiled. ”Yes. I will call you in three days time, give you time to look at it all and you can tell me if you can do this project.”

The human smiled back. ”Then I will see you in three days. I'm awake now, so I'll start looking at the video records.”

The human vanished and Nakteti leaned back, picking up her drink and sipping at it.

Her people needed stories. Needed a mythos of their own.

It had to start somewhere.

Nobody is coming to help you, so you best carry a gun to Tombstone if yer goin' to down, little dorlin, went through her head as she sipped the drink.

The Lanaktallan had eliminated her people's history.

Someone had to start her people's history again.

It was up to her people.

You have spoken, thus you have volunteered, she heard in her mind a quote from someplace she couldn't remember.

Thunder rumbled and Nakteti stared at the night skyline of the city.