Submitted for the November 2023 prompt: Feasts with the Beasts

Hobson gazed at the mural on the far wall and sighed. He didn't belong here; he was a farmer, not a diplomat. So much depended on him, and he had no idea what he was doing.

 

Not that anyone else did either. That painting had been there for at least two thousand years, perhaps longer, and it showed the only image of an Other that anyone had seen in a century, since the last Treaty Day.

 

Any living man, that is.

 

There were always a handful in every generation, wilder and more daring than the rest, who refused to abide by the terms of the Treaty. Every so often one would sneak across the border in search of the forbidden. Sometimes they'd make it back, but of those who returned, not one had seen an Other.

 

Perhaps they won't send anyone, the old farmer thought, not for the first time. He'd never sought power or the responsibility that came with it. He'd told the Senate he'd see it through, though, and his word was good.

 

Besides, the archives told of the first war with the Others, soon after colonization. The idea of repeating it didn't bear thinking about.

 

Hobson sat back down and waited.

 

* * *

 

*Awaken, human. It is time.*

 

His eyes sprang open. Across the small table was seated a large scaled creature not entirely unlike the one pictured. It was grey shading to brown, though, which surprised him. He'd always pictured the Others as green, like lizards.

 

Its eyes regarded him flatly. Hobson was intrigued by their color, a matte black with a faint pattern. It was like... like...

 

*Are you quite finished inspecting me? We have a task to perform.*

 

The Other's lips hadn't moved! How was it—?

 

*Our people speak directly, mind to mind. It avoids... misunderstandings.*

 

"That must come in handy," Hobson said, speaking somewhat at random. "Not useful in playing poker, but we can't have everything. You understand my voice, I hope?"

 

*Let's just say yes to keep it simple.*

 

The old farmer took umbrage at the condescencion. "So it doesn't avoid all misunderstandings, just the ones you want to avoid. I guess it must come in handy at that."

 

The Other hissed audibly. *You're not afraid of me.*

 

"Get to my age, there's naught left to fear."

 

*What about war?*

 

Hobson shrugged. "I figure you fellows could wipe us out if you wanted to, and no amount of me sucking up would make the slightest bit of difference. You must have a reason to keep us alive."

 

*We do. You are more perceptive than the last ambassador.*

 

"Before my time. So, are we gonna sign up for another hundred years?"

 

The Other's tongue flicked out, lizardlike, and it blinked. It had four lids, Hobson noted.

 

*You have a question for me*, the alien noted. It had sensed it somehow.

 

"Yeah. Promised my sister. Her son went missing in your territory about a year back. Dark-haired boy with a birthmark on his forehead. What can you tell me?"

 

*I wouldn't know. That is not my... my department.*

 

"But you could ask someone. Mind to mind, right?"

 

*Yes. I shall access the Gestalt. Wait.*

 

The Other closed its eyes, tensed visibly, then reached one hand into midair. A faint glistening sphere appeared faintly over the table, from which the alien extracted a strand of webbing. It held this a moment, concentrating, and then released it again. The sphere vanished, and the Other opened its strange eyes.

 

*The human you speak of is well, but he will never be allowed to return to you. He has seen too much. More than this I cannot say.*

 

Hobson nodded. "Figured as much. I'll let her know what you told me."

 

The Other stared at him intently. *But not what you yourself have deduced.* It was not a question.

 

"What would be the point?" The old farmer shrugged. "We're livestock to you. You harvest the independent ones, the restless, the clever, and leave the rest of us here as breeding stock. Gone to soldier or something like that, if I had to guess. That must be the reason you let us stay, because we're useful to you. Do they lead good lives?"

 

*Yes. And they would be unhappy if they were to remain.*

 

Hobson nodded. "I know it. I remember my uncle, back when I was a boy. He was another one with that restlessness. Nothing but trouble, they said, but grandma still cried when he vanished."

 

*You will not speak of this.* Again, it wasn't a question.

 

"Again, what would be the point? It'd only upset people, and it's not as though we have the power to change the way things are. Just like cattle... No, I'll keep quiet, and I'll sign your treaty." The old man sighed, then looked the Other in the eyes. "But I want to know one more thing."

 

*Which is?*

 

"Do you truly view us as mere livestock, or something more? Sentient, with meaningful lives, souls? Are we in any way your equals?"

 

The alien shifted its head oddly and made a strange gesture. *Such a curious conceit. No two beings in all the universe are equal. None have identical chances, abilities, or value. Not two ants or two apples or two leaves on a tree. You are you, and we are we. But yes, your people have meaning to us. You are more than cattle, or pets. You may be content with that, if you will.*

 

"I guess I will at that. Thanks."

 

The Other inclined its great head. *I will remember you to your successor in a century's time, Hobson.*

 

And then it was gone.

 

The old farmer stood slowly. His joints were stiff, and he was very thirsty, but what troubled him was what he was going to have to tell his sister when he got home.