Memory Transcription Subject: Chairman Debbin, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 27, 2137

  My lone Mazic employee thus far, Sopa, had just battered down the infirmary door, possibly damaging it. That door was, I feel compelled to reiterate, unlocked. Why in the world would she have thought otherwise? Ancestors spare me, this was a public health facility! Locking the door to a hospital would be foolish. It would be unsafe!

  She stood there, silent and wild-eyed, stricken by some bout of fear or Predator Disease or…

  Predator…

  Hold on, maybe I was witnessing a one woman stampede? Ah, no, I think I could just barely make out a few sets of work boots cowering behind her.

  “Sorry, did one of the Arxur startle you?” I guessed.

  “No!” Sopa stammered, still scanning the room rather than looking at me while she spoke. “No Arxur. Everything is fine.”

  “O… kay?” I said slowly. Why was she in here, then?

  “Is there a medical emergency then?” Wylla tried, just as confused as I was.

  Sopa’s eyes flicked over to the doctor. “Yes!” she said, gesturing frantically with her trunk. “Yes. Medical emergency. I have, um…” The huge woman stared at her forepaws for a moment, thinking. “Foot fungus. Yes. From all the wading in tide pools. I need medical attention.”

  “That is not an emergency, but alright, let me take a look,” said Wylla, utterly baffled by this exchange.

  Dearest audience, I have been a rising star among the Nevok paragons of industry for some time. Despite certain recent setbacks--both professional and romantic--while adjusting to the fully unprecedented incorporation of the Arxur into my affairs--both professional and romantic--I assure you, I continue to be quite capable in matters of wheeling and/or dealing. Particularly when considering fellow herbivores, I can generally tell quite readily when someone is lying to me, or hiding something.

  Sopa slowly shuffled toward Wylla, awkwardly, as her companions continued attempting to rather literally hide behind her in a display best described as ‘vaudevillian’, or perhaps, to use a more low-brow expression, ‘an utter clown show’.

  “And your two friends behind you are there for, what, moral support?” I said.

  Sopa’s eyes widened again. “Go, get her out of here, I’ll hold them off!” she shouted, before charging straight at me.

  I leapt back in utter shock. “Wait, what the fuck are you--?!”

  A gunshot rang out, and Sopa screamed, skidding to a halt, keeling over on her side as one of her legs gave out from under her. A puddle of red blood trickled out onto the floor. I fully dove behind my chair at this point, ducking for cover as I searched for the shooter. One of the Arxur, or…?

  But no. Benwen--fucking Benwen?!--was shakily holding a pistol in unsteady paws. What the fuck? When did he get a--

  Nope, not important right now, Debbin! I thought. Just roll with it. One gun to zero is still outgunned.

  “All of you, cease this at once!” I shouted in my best ‘technically still the ruler of the entire planet’ voice. “Explain yourselves, now!”

  With Sopa on the ground--Wylla was already kneeling next to her, trying to treat her, but Sopa was squirming away in fear--I could finally get a good look at her co-conspirators. Two Takkans, one Gojid. Didn’t particularly think I recognized any of the men, but two were wearing waterproof work boots like longshoremen, and the second Takkan still had his medical scrubs on. Benwen waved the gun at them--or, perhaps more accurately, was still struggling to keep his paws steady while pointing it at them--and they froze partway through what looked an awful lot like an attempt to sneak Garruga’s hospital bed out the back door.

  “Listen, sir,” the Gojid began, with the cocksure smile of a real up-and-coming professional liar, “this is all, honestly, just a prank that’s gotten very out of control.”

  “Are we going to my office?” Garruga mumbled, confused. “I thought I was just getting a work desk setup in here.”

  “Exactly!” said the Gojid, grinning excitedly. He waggled a finger at me like I was being very clever for having seen through his ruse. If I didn’t throw him in the brig, I might need to find him a spot in sales. “We’re just taking Garruga to her office.”

  “I mean, she’s literally always been free to leave,” said Wylla, distracted by trying to get a good look at Sopa’s wounds, “it’s just a matter of comfort and quality of care. She can’t stand, and with four injured limbs, she can’t really leave her bed without a caregiver strong enough to help her move.”

  “Which is why my friend and I have volunteered!” the Gojid said. “Bori and Cowlin, at your service. Two big strong guys, right here, and you’ll observe that Cowlin’s cousin here is an orderly who’s just gotten off his shift. He’s been briefing us on patient care. See? Everything’s above board. We just thought it’d make for a fun prank to sneak Garruga out the backdoor instead of filling out all that boring paperwork, am I right?”

  “I feel like I want to see a priest first, if that’s possible,” said Garruga.

  Bori went pale, but tried to soldier through with his obvious fabrications. “We would be happy to accommodate that,” he said, with considerably less confidence.

  “Okay. I think I get the gist. You can shut up now,” I said with a visibly strained smile. I had no idea what fresh nonsense this was about, but I didn’t have time for it, and I wasn’t going to let it escalate to the point where it might take up more of my time later. They wanted Garruga out of here, and Garruga seemed alright with the idea, so I just needed to make sure she was safe. These chucklefucks wanted to try anything stupid, they could try it in front of my fucking Security team. I pulled my holopad out and called Tippen.

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  It rang for just long enough to be awkward. “Well you’re up early,” said Tippen, groggily. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, hi, I’m at the infirmary, and I’ve got a couple scruffy-looking longshoremen volunteering to help Garruga out if she heads back to her office?” I said, glancing over at Bori and the two Takkans with narrowed eyes. “I think maybe a couple of her lieutenants ought to swing by and escort her back as well. Maybe stick with her afterwards?”

  There was a long pause on the video call as the still-sleepy face of my Security Chief picked up the subtext. “Yeahhh… Definitely couldn’t hurt to have a couple extra eyes on that desk work. Better safe than sorry. I’ll have them there in uniform in twenty minutes. Anything else?”

  Uniform… I glanced over at Benwen, still nervously holding his pistol. I didn’t know much about firearms, but it certainly looked a lot like the standard security team sidearm. “Yeah… shot in the dark, buddy, but did you give my assistant a gun?”

  “Aye, and I’d do it again,” said Tippen. “Kit’s gotta protect himself. And you, frankly!”

  I glanced down at the ground with a look of disgust and took another step back. “Some protection! I’ve got red blood all over my hooves, Tippen!”

  Tippen’s face lit up. “Holy shit, the kit actually shot that she-devil?”

  I did a double-take. “Since when do you have a grudge against my aquaculturist?!”

  “Huh?” Tippen blinked, trying to parse that. “Your…? Oh, fuck, Mazics have red blood, too. Okay. Wait, why the fuck did he shoot a Mazic? He was supposed to shoot an Arxur--”

  I ducked, reflexively, as the gun went off again.

  “I’m sorry!” Benwen yelped. “That one was an accident!”

  “Ancestors spare me, I gave a gun to a twitchy kit…” Tippen groaned before raising his voice. “Benwen! Pawpads off the trigger when you’re not ready to shoot!”

  “Sorry!”

  “Frozen fucking foolishness, did he hit anyone this time?” asked Tippen.

  I glanced up at a new red bloodstain blossoming halfway across the room, by the door, in a wheelchair, near a gaping toothy maw that was roaring obscenities. “Well, he hit an Arxur this time, at least,” I said.

  Tippen rubbed his eyes. “How many Arxur in the room?”

  I glanced up. Huge fellow pushing a scarred fellow in a wheelchair. “Uhhh, two, plus another down the hall.”

  “I’ll send my bravest,” Tippen sighed, reaching for the end call button. “Stay alive.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said to an empty line.

  The larger Arxur put a warning hand on the injured Arxur’s shoulder, who lowered his voice down to a low growl, but nearly everyone in the room cowered nonetheless. We were barely coming around to trusting the Arxurs’ self-control under the best of circumstances. How well was it going to hold up when the Arxur in question was wounded and enraged?

  The injured one, slowly dripping red blood across the floor, moved his wheelchair on his own, slowly, towards Benwen. “Oh!” he said, his voice tense with barely-restrained rage. “I remember you. The clever one. Benwen.”

  Benwen’s ears pinned back in distress, and he started twitching again. “Um. Yup. Good to see you again, uh, Kitzz?”

  “Mmhmm. I see you have a gun,” said Kitzz, smiling coldly. “And you’ve shot me in the leg! That seems to be a popular pastime here on Seaglass.”

  “I’m sorry, it was an accident!” Benwen blurted out.

  Kitzz nodded, sagely. “Nevertheless…”

  Well, I had previously been under the impression that pouncing was an activity that required the use of one’s legs, but it seemed that sufficiently-motivated predators were exempt from such limitations. Kitzz lunged at Benwen, snatched the gun out of his paws, and then backhanded the young man.

  “Ow!” yelped Benwen.

  “Hey, what did I fucking say, Kitzz?” roared the larger Arxur.

  Kitzz turned the wheelchair around and blinked innocently at his companion. “Why, Lieutenant,” he said, with a tone of voice I’d almost describe as coquetteish, “I believe that your exact words were that, if one of the prey pulled a gun on me, I should grab the gun away and then smack ‘em like a naughty hatchling.”

  “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” said Benwen, holding a paw up to the side of his face.

  “See?” said Kitzz, gesturing at Benwen. “The system works! Now can somebody tell me where the surgery kits are? I gotta patch my leg up again.”

  “Just the one, surgeon?” said Wylla, gesturing pointedly at poor Sopa.

  “Ooohoohoo,” cackled Kitzz as he craned his neck to get a better look. “Well that certainly looks like a novel challenge. Never put a Mazic back together before.”

  Sopa winced her eyes clean shut and tried to flee. With one of her legs in bad shape, this had the sole effect of thrashing about until a stray kick clipped Wylla’s snout.

  “Ow, fuck!” shouted Wylla, clutching at a snout dribbling blue Nevok blood. Ah, lovely, all the red blood had been getting a bit monochromatic. “Somebody restrain her, now!”

  The big Arxur and the Takkan in scrubs--only people left whose names I didn’t know, frankly--both rushed over to hold Sopa still while Wylla, visibly bleeding, dashed past Kitzz to grab the largest syringe I’d ever seen. Kitzz, inexplicably, barely considered the wounded Nevok woman to be worth so much as a glance compared to the medical task before him.

  “Hey, get off of her!” shouted Bori, waving his claws at the bigger Arxur.

  “Fuck off!” The big Arxur, visibly struggling to keep Sopa’s head steady, twisted his neck around and shouted back. “I work here! You don’t!”

  “I said let her go!” Bori swiped at the big Arxur’s snout. The Arxur, for his sake, ducked and weaved, managing to leverage his height into a headbutt at Bori’s midsection just as Cowlin was gingerly trying to find a way to grab Bori from behind and hold him back. The two longshoremen both slipped on the large puddle of blood, Cowlin landing hard on his back, and Bori landing hard on Cowlin.

  “Ow, you spikey fuck!” roared Cowlin, and the red Mazic blood puddle started getting blue Takkan blood highlights.

  My head whipped around at the sound of Benwen hitting the ground like a sack of loose root vegetables. When I met the kit, he’d been vomiting in fear from the sight of the Arxur. He’d gotten used to them, sure, but I guess now was he fainting from the sight of all the blood? Held up. Poor guy had a gentle constitution.

  Wylla swore. “Can everyone stop making medical emergencies for like five minutes?!” She dove back in and tried to find a good spot for the syringe to, presumably, sedate Sopa so she’d stop thrashing.

  There was a loud sound of a clearing throat. Sifal stood by one of the doors that led further in, blearily leaning against the doorframe. Gods, she was doing that… casual stance with her guard down, like when a Nevok girl first wakes up next to you in the morning, and her fur’s still all tousled, right before she rolls over to snuggle you more. “Guys… can you keep it down in here?” she said, with that low throaty rumble to her voice. “I’m trying to talk to somebody.”

  “Sorry, mom,” I said, reflexively.

  Sifal blinked. “...what the fuck?!”

  “Ma’am!” I corrected instantly.