Memory Transcription Subject: Sirus, Venlil Exchange Participant Date [Standardized Human Time]: August 21, 2136

The floor rumbled faintly beneath my paws as the human shuttle touched down. I felt it in my ribs — a subtle vibration that crawled up my spine like a warning. It was time.

I stiffened, ears tilting back unconsciously before I corrected them. Don’t look nervous. Don’t be nervous. The message boards said they could smell that — somehow. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I wasn’t going to take the risk.

The station’s artificial lighting hummed overhead, casting sterile reflections across the polished tiles. The docking bay was a wide, reinforced chamber — clean, cold, and echoing with the sharp footsteps of Federation staff and the quiet murmurs of other exchange participants. Some stood alone like I did. Others huddled in pairs, tails twitching, ears flaring in silent distress.

I shifted my weight from paw to paw. The ID screen beside me blinked with the name of my human, freshly updated with their arrival. I stared at it like it might bite me.

We’d messaged back and forth for weeks — light, casual things. Likes. Dislikes. Music. Questions that tried to ignore the yawning chasm between prey and predator. They’d been polite. Patient, even. But I still hadn’t seen their face. Not yet. My terminal had pinged with an offer for a video call a dozen times… and I’d declined every single one.

I swallowed. My tongue felt dry.

Another vibration rolled through the floor, heavier this time — the shuttle’s landing gear locking into place. The air hissed as the docking clamps sealed. The corridor door slid open with a hydraulic groan that sounded far too much like a growl.

And then…

Silhouettes.

One of them had to be mine.

I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin and curling my tail around my ankle in a defiant knot. My ears flicked forward sharply in warning — a gesture I wasn’t sure they’d even recognize.

“I’m not scared,” I whispered under my breath. It wasn’t true. But I hoped they’d believe it.