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Grass Eaters 3 | 57 | Huddled Masses I
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 16:47:01 +0000 UTCSpaceport Sugihara, McMurdo System (25,000 Ls)
POV: Monvu, Malgeir (Civilian)
As the spacecraft approached their destination, the young pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Good day all. It is currently midnight in Malgeirgam and 4:32 Atlas Universal Time. We have been given final docking clearance, and we are beginning our final deceleration burn into our destination Spaceport Sugihara of the McMurdo System. For your own safety, please turn off all electronic devices in the cabin, stow them until you get the all-clear signal, and secure all loose luggage to the ceiling and floor pawholds. On behalf of Malgeirgam Spacelines, thank you for choosing to fly with us today, and we hope you will fly with us again in the future. Now, please pay attention to an important message from the local authorities.”
Everyone looked up at the big screen in front of the cargo hold. One benefit of this being a way-overbooked flight without seats: it was easier for everyone to see.
After a few seconds of impatient waiting, the screen turned on to the tune of a cheesy song and a quickly-moving slideshow of some interesting-looking landscape.
“Welcome!” the screen said in perfect Malgeirish as a beaming human appeared in the center, her background an orderly line of Malgeir passengers going through a spaceport checkpoint. “Welcome to the Terran Republic! Many of you have travelled a great distance, many light years, to get here, so we want to streamline the entry process so you can reach your destination safely and quickly. This short video will explain this process.”
Some of the other passengers pointed at the screen and jabbered away, but Monvu paid attention to the lady.
“The Republic Marines have been tasked with protecting your safety and the security of our Republic. They have been safeguarding citizens of the Republic for more than 80 years, and continue to be our first line of defense against those who seek to do us harm.”
The movie showed proud-looking humans and robots, side-by-side, greeting and shaking paws with civilians in front of a diverse-looking row of flags.
The lady on screen continued, “We understand that there are cultural sensitivities around our non-organic intelligences, and there are a large number of rumors on social media regarding our nature. I can assure you that we are here to help, and we will not be offended if you have questions for us. However, if you would like to, you have the right to ask to speak to an organic officer instead. As a Republic office, we are proudly dedicated to our ideals of diversity, and over zero point two percent of our employed workforce is organic, including almost a hundred Malgeir workers across the Republic! We will try our best to make them available as per your needs and wishes. If there is anything you don’t understand, just ask.”
The pictures of the crowds in front of the checkpoints returned again, this time showing signs in various languages including standard Malgeirish.
“We processed over nineteen thousand people at Spaceport Sugihara in the last twenty-four hours. Our goal is to help get you on your way as soon as possible. Follow the designated signage and the instruction of our officers, and we’d like you to do your part to make this process as smooth as possible for yourself and your fellow passengers. Make sure to pay attention to our entry checkpoint configuration.”
The video showed a sparse line of people walking through a one-lane counter. “This is the blue line. The blue line is for returning Republic citizens and residents, of any species. All humans and those born in the Republic attain citizenship by birth, and if you have any questions about whether you qualify for citizenship or residency, please ask any of our officers.”
The next checkpoint had two lanes, with about a dozen people waiting in line. “This is the green line. The green line is for anyone with a Republic identification number, usually from your employer or the Federation Diplomatic Service.”
Then, it showed the remaining dozen or so lanes crowded with Malgeir people. “This is the pink line. The pink line is for non-residents without a Republic identification number. If you have trouble seeing these colors, please do not hesitate to ask our officers for help in getting in the right lane.”
The front of the booth showed an elderly Malgeir walking through and talking to a smiling face on the screen. “At the processing point, please follow the instructions of the officer. When it is your turn, they will call you to the counter to review your case. They may ask you some questions, like… where were you originally from? What is the purpose of your trip? Then, you will place your paw or finger on the scanner. The scanner will take your pawprint or fingerprint and inject you with a small medical tracer.”
A young Malgeir cub appeared, looking up at the screen. “Why are you taking my sire’s pawprints?”
“Good question,” the screen answered cheerily. “To make sure somebody isn’t pretending to be your sire, and to help keep you and your clan safe!”
The narrator lady returned. “At this point, the screen will show you a tax invoice for any merchandise, livestock, or food products in your luggage exceeding your personal exemption. If you would like to dispute the charge or dispose of your items instead of declaring your intent to bring them in, make sure you inform the officer at the processing point. This includes any Republic citizens who may have purchased items while abroad. Failure to pay may result in seizure of your property and you may be charged for their safe removal. Beyond the checkpoint, please consult the signs for your connecting flight to Sol, or ask any of the help desks around the main terminal. Welcome to Sugihara, and thank you for helping us keep our Republic safe…”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
The instructional video on the way in did not do justice to how crowded the hall was. As Monvu stood there in the glacial, pink line, his heart sank. He looked worriedly at the number of people around him.
Any moment now…
A line of their robots marched past him, their metallic feet making rhythmic clanks as the six round optics on their head swiveled to and fro, as if searching for him in the crowd.
The intercom rang and an authoritative voice spoke out. “TRNS Shuttle Goose-14 approaching station. All hands and paws, brace for docking.” As he looked around in confusion, he saw several other people do the same.
Clang.
There was a loud noise toward one of the corridors feeding into the main hall, but it didn’t seem like the station moved at all.
Maybe a tradition from before they had inertial compensators? Monvu wondered. He’d heard that they were relatively new to spacefaring.
A few minutes later, the oncoming crowd debarking passengers from the new shuttle reached the hall. As the crowd at the lines saw them, a cheer broke up in whoops and hollers. An orderly line of Malgeir in alien uniforms passed the crowd, some accepting the cheering with nods and waves as they headed to the blue line.
“Hey, how many Grass Eaters did you kill?” a particularly rambunctious youth in the line yelled out towards them. A couple of them smiled at her but didn’t reply.
Any moment now…
Monvu’s eyes flitted to a nearby airlock, wondering just how quickly it could cycle as his fear hormones flooded through his veins. As he stared at it in indecisively—part-shame, part-fear—he knew in his heart what he would do. The same thing he’d done for weeks now: nothing.
Last chance…
A voice nearby jolted him out of his thoughts. “You going for work?”
He turned around. “Hmm? You talking to me?”
It was a smiling Malgeir female who looked about in her thirties, the same as him. “Yes, you. You going to Sol for work?”
He shook his head. “No, you?”
“No, my mate is. I’m joining him,” she said. “Biochemical research on Mars.”
“Ah,” Monvu said, nodding politely.
“That’s the fourth planet in the system.”
He didn’t know what to do with that information, so he kept silent.
“What about you? What are you here for?” she prompted.
“I’m from Plorve.”
Her face turned more solemn. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “Not the worst, I heard.”
“What about… your clan? Are they…” She left the words hanging.
He shook his head again.
She covered her mouth with a paw. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said emotionlessly.
“I lost a friend in the frontier— I can’t imagine—”
“I said, it’s fine,” Monvu emphasized a little more loudly.
She took the hint. She muttered a couple more apologies before turning away and finding someone else to bother.
It took an hour before he reached the front of the line.
“Next four, step to the screen please,” the smiling face on the screen said to the family of four in front of him — a sire, dame, and two cubs — just loud enough for him to hear over the crowd. Monvu’s ears perked up as he tried to hear what they were saying.
“Good morning. Please put your paws on the scanner in order…”
They complied one-by-one. “Yes, sir.”
“Names?”
The sire answered for them and gave the screen all their names.
“Where are you from?”
“Gionlu.”
Monvu winced. Of all the places that were recently liberated, that would be one of the worst.
“Are you here for work?” the machine asked.
“No.”
“Do any of you have any of the special skills or experiences listed on the screen?”
The sire and dame leaned in to take a closer look, pointing and whispering amongst themselves. After a few seconds, the sire stepped back hesitantly and replied, “No.”
“If you return to where you come from, are you in imminent danger?”
“N— no. But our home is gone. I’m afraid that if we return, the Znosians will return and take what little we have left. Is there a—”
“Thank you. Please hold.” There was a short pause as the face in the screen seemed to look down.
“Your case has been reviewed. Seventy Republic districts currently accept asylum seekers in your circumstances. They are listed on the screen now.”
They leaned in, and once again, the sire and dame animatedly but quietly discussed the options on it.
Without waiting for an answer, the machine printed a small piece of paper from a slot. “Here is the full list. You do not need to make a choice now, but once you step onto a shuttle for one of them, your eligibility for asylee status may change in other districts,” the screen said. “You have the right to appeal this decision or consult an independent lawyer about your case. Would you be needing a list of those now?”
The sire didn’t even stop to think. He shook his head. “No, thank you. We’ll take this.”
“In that case, keep the ticket and follow the line on the ground to the main terminal asylum processing center. Welcome to the Terran Republic, and have a nice day.”
The sire hugged the dame in relief, and the family moved out of the processing area.
“Next one, step to the screen please.”
Monvu moved toward the screen, his hearting pumping hard. He stared at the face on the screen. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a middle-aged human, but he was pretty sure it was one of their digital intelligences wearing a fake face.
“Good morning. Please put your paw on the scanner.”
He did as it asked. The receptacle made a small hissing sound, and he thought he felt a small prick in his paw. As he withdrew it though, he didn’t see any blood.
“Name?” the machine asked him.
“Monvu. I’m from Plorve.”
“Are you here for work, Monvu?”
“No.”
“Do you have any of the special skills or experiences listed on the screen?”
He browsed through the choices. Most of them were related to highly specialized positions, like FTL engineering and… what in the galaxy was a “cultural interpreter”?
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“If you return to where you come from, are you in imminent danger?”
“No. But my home is gone. I’m afraid that if I return, the Znosians will return and kill us all.”
The face looked down, and he waited for it to make a decision.
“Thank you. Please hold.”
There was a long wait, for what felt like more than a minute. As he was about to speak up, the smiling face in the screen looked up at him and said, “Your case is actively being reviewed. Thank you for your patience.”
A couple more minutes, and he saw a few claws being pointed at him in the line behind him.
Just as he thought he’d been discovered, the screen said, “Due to recent security measures, you have been chosen at random for a more detailed inspection. As per Republic regulation, this inspection is not optional, but you will be compensated fairly for your time. Please follow the Marine officer to your destination. He will explain further.”
What?
He looked up, and one of their bipedal robots walked up to the booth. “Please follow me, Monvu,” it said in monotone. Wordlessly, Monvu picked up his luggage and waddled after the robot. He followed it for a few minutes, down a few sparse and then empty corridors, until they reached a door.
The door opened automatically.
“Please get in,” the robot said.
He snuck a glance at the robot’s sidearm and the lethal-looking rifle on its back.
I don’t suppose that’s a suggestion.
The room was sparse: one table, two chairs. He entered and the machine gestured at the chair with its back to the door. “Sit down, please.”
At least the chair looked like it was made for his physiology. He sat.
And waited.
And waited.
He turned to the robot. “Is there something I’m supposed to be—”
“Please wait.”
A few minutes later, the door opened behind him with a hiss and a Malgeir female walked in carrying a datapad. She walked over to the other side of the table, set her device down on the table, and quietly sat down opposite him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on,” Monvu said. “They just said to follow the… the thing and—”
“Don’t worry, Monvu. We just have a few questions for you,” she said assuringly as she settled into her chair. “Just one, really.”
“What do you want to know?”
She pushed her tablet aside and stared straight into his eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me the story of how you got here… with four Znosian plasma-incendiary bombs embedded between the third and fourth ribs in your chest?”
Comments
Valdis Trautmanis
I was 100% sure he was going to shahid at some point, it was quite clearly pointed at in the previous chapter. I almost didn't believe they would catch him before he blew, he had ample opportunities to cause horrendous damage
Thomas McCubbin
Oh wow, I was expecting something devious, but not a walking bomb. My first thought was "how is it triggered..." 🤔😦
ColonelCodfish
The TSA strikes again
EclipseDragon96
Oof they turned him into a bomb...
Ndreda
These new airport scanners are something else
M
A very bad boy indeed... though he's probably being blackmailed somehow.
Ark
trying to pull a "Remember no terran."
