u/Inevitable_You9999

The room was small, circular, and gave off a stuffy heat that no ventilation system seemed to clear away. The limestone walls were bare, without the bluish decorative veins that adorned the rest of the administrative building. It was a practical room, hidden behind the scenes of power, designed for situations that needed quiet and watchfulness. In the center, a wide table held a series of translucent screens glowing with the amber light typical of Muken technology. Grainy images of the main audience room filled the monitors. In one of them, Ruben was leaning against the stone wall, his arms crossed, his mouth moving in words that the Magistrate's translation device picked up even from a distance. In another, Camila walked slowly around the edge of the room, her gray eyes scanning every architectural detail with the precision of someone mapping escape routes.

Magistrate Coukisa stood still in front of the screens, his four back legs planted on the floor like the roots of an ancient tree. His two pairs of eyes did not blink. He was watching, but he was also thinking. The translation device on his neck still pulsed softly, translating in real time the words the humans exchanged. He had heard everything. The confession that they were omnivores. The casual, almost careless confirmation that they ate meat and plants. The way the male smiled when he said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the universe.

Beside him, Chief Guard Yulthar paced back and forth, his hooves making a tense, rhythmic sound against the stone floor. The scar crossing one of his four eyes looked deeper under the amber light, a pale line that pulsed with his fast breathing. His front arms were crossed over his chest, a posture that among Mukens showed forced restraint, as if he were holding himself back from taking action.

"Magistrate," Yulthar said, his voice a muffled growl, "if they really are what they are, we must arrest them right away. Now. Before they realize we know."

Coukisa did not take his eyes off the screens. "Arrest them? Based on what? On a word translated by a device they have never seen before? On a conversation that barely started?"

"Based on what you yourself reported," Yulthar pushed. "They said they eat meat. Meat, Magistrate. They are omnivores. There are no peaceful omnivores. The Federation taught us that from the first day of contact. Omnivores are a biological abomination, an ethical impossibility. And the Borkus... the Borkus are omnivores."

The name hung in the air like a shadow. Borkus. The word the Mukens had learned to fear long before they had any practical reason to. A word that showed up in Keplorian Federation reports with alarming frequency, always paired with descriptions of ruined worlds, destabilized civilizations, silent invasions.

Coukisa finally turned around. His four eyes met Yulthar's. "That could make the situation worse. Scaring them now, arresting them by force, could trigger exactly what we are trying to avoid. And the Federation is already on the way. They will know what to do. They have the protocols. Protocols that, I must remind you, they never fully shared with us. But they know how to handle this."

"The Federation is on the way?" Yulthar asked, his posture relaxing slightly for the first time.

"Yes. A patrol frigate should be approaching right now. They will come. They always come when something like this happens."

Yulthar swayed his torso, a gesture of frustration. "And if they really are the Borkus, that is exactly why we should not leave them running loose, Magistrate. The Federation taught us what the Borkus do. They do not attack with armies at first. They sneak in. They gain trust. They learn our weaknesses. And then, when we are vulnerable, they attack. They are masters at destroying worlds. They can do it in many ways. Biological wars. Ecological sabotage. Cultural collapse. Every world they found was ruined in a different way, but they all fell."

He paused, his four eyes shining with a feverish intensity. "You yourself said they claimed to come from a distant world. That this is their first trip outside their solar system. If they are not the Borkus, why did they lie to us then?"

Coukisa stayed silent. The question was a good one. He turned back to the screens, watching the humans. The male, Ruben, was now sitting on the stone floor, legs crossed, gesturing while he talked to the female. He seemed... relaxed. Confident. Nothing in his posture suggested he was hiding something. But the Borkus, the Federation had said, were masters of lying.

"I do not know why they would lie," the Magistrate admitted, his voice lower now. "But if they are the Borkus... those omnivores that have been ruining the Federation for decades... then they are testing us. Judging our defense. Testing our reaction. The Federation described the Borkus to us as treacherous monsters. They say they have many forms, that they adapt, that they camouflage themselves. And one of those forms is bipedal. Bipedal."

He closed his four eyes for a moment, a gesture of blaming himself. "I should have noticed. The moment I saw them coming out of the ship, on two legs, with front-facing eyes... I should have realized they might be them."

Yulthar took a step forward, his voice softening into something that passed for compassion among the Mukens. "The Magistrate is not to blame. There is no blame in being fooled by these things. The Borkus evolved to trick. It is what they do. You acted with courage and hospitality, as is our custom. The flaw is not in you, but in their nature."

Coukisa raised one of his front arms, cutting him off. "But what if it is just a coincidence, Yulthar? What if... what if they are exactly what they say they are?"

The Chief Guard stopped. His four eyes narrowed. "What coincidence, Magistrate?"

"Think about it," Coukisa said, and his voice took on a different tone, a tone Yulthar recognized from long trial sessions, when the Magistrate weighed every argument with an almost painful precision. "There is a possibility they are not the Borkus. That they are simply another omnivorous species. A species we have never met before. A species that, as they said, is making its first interstellar trip. Everything they told us could be true."

Yulthar stayed silent for a long moment. His scar pulsed with his breathing. Then he swayed his torso slowly, a heavy gesture of denial. "The possibility is very slim, Magistrate. Extremely slim. To this day, from what we know, there is no other omnivorous race in the known galaxy. The Federation has cataloged hundreds of intelligent species. Hundreds. In all quadrants, in all spiral arms. Herbivores and carnivores coexist in the Federation. They have their differences, their occasional conflicts, but they have lived in harmony for centuries. But omnivores? The Federation has only found one omnivorous species. Just one. The Borkus."

He paused, and his voice got even deeper. "The Federation taught us that being an omnivore is not just a diet. It is a psychology. A way of seeing the world. Omnivorous species do not specialize. They consume everything. Resources. Territories. Other species. It is a widespread predatory behavior that is not limited to food. The Borkus do not just eat other beings. They consume entire worlds. That is what the Federation taught us."

Coukisa sighed. The sound escaped his smelling slits like a sad wind. He walked slowly across the room, his hooves making a hollow sound against the stone. The screens kept showing the humans in their quiet wait.

"I never thought," he mumbled, "that I would be more afraid of omnivores than carnivores."

Yulthar tilted his head, confused. "Magistrate?"

"The carnivores of the Federation," Coukisa explained. "The Keltar, the Dromani. They eat meat. They kill to eat. But they are specialized. Their aggression has a target. They do not consume everything. They have rules, limits, and codes of conduct. We herbivores learned to live with them. It was not easy, but it was possible. Herbivores and carnivores have lived in harmony for centuries, as you said yourself."

He stopped in front of one of the screens, his four eyes locked on the image of Ruben. The human was laughing at something Camila had said. The translator had picked up the word "hurt."

"But an omnivore," Coukisa continued, "is different. An omnivore has no specialty. It has no built-in limits. It eats everything. It adapts to everything. It survives everything. That is what makes it so dangerous. It is not strength. It is not ferocity. It is adaptability. It is the ability to consume anything and thrive."

He turned to Yulthar. "But it is exactly that adaptability that makes me doubt. The humans in that room are not acting like monsters. They are acting like people. Scared people, far from home, trying to do their best in an impossible situation. The male, Ruben... he put the translation device on without hesitating. He reached his hand out to me. He smiled. And the female, Camila... she is cautious, yes. Suspicious. But not hostile. If they were Borkus, if they were treacherous monsters, they might not be acting like this."

Yulthar took a step forward. "With all due respect, Magistrate, that is exactly how the Borkus would act. They would earn our trust. They would do exactly what those two are doing."

Coukisa fell silent. Yulthar's argument was logical. But there was something inside him, something that was not logical, that pushed back against the conclusion. An intuition. An instinct. His four eyes turned back to the screens.

"Maybe I made a mistake," he finally said.

"Magistrate?"

"Calling the Federation. Triggering the emergency protocols. Maybe it was rushed. If they really are what they say they are... if they are just explorers, travelers from a distant world on their first mission... then calling the Federation might be the biggest mistake of my career. The Keplorian Federation is not known for its gentleness in first contact situations. If they arrive and see two bipedal omnivores, they are not going to ask many questions."

He paused, and his voice became lower, more determined. "And if they are the Borkus, like you believe, there are only two of them, Yulthar. Just two. It is not an invasion fleet. It is not an army. They are two beings, alone, in a small ship. Even if they are Borkus, we can contain them. We can handle this without the Federation. It is better to cancel the call for help."

Yulthar stood perfectly still. His scar looked darker under the amber light. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with something Coukisa rarely heard: true regret.

"That will not be possible, Magistrate."

Coukisa spun around. "What do you mean?"

"While you were talking to me, I checked the long-range communications. The ship is sending greetings, they are close."

He paused, his four eyes meeting the Magistrate's. "A patrol frigate from the Keplorian Federation is two hours away, Magistrate. They are coming. And when they get here, they will want answers. They will want that things."

Ruben reached for the back of his neck again, his fingers touching the warm and slightly pulsing surface of the translator device. The feeling was still strange, an alien presence that his body had not fully accepted. He felt the object like an artificial extension of his spine, something that did not hurt, but also did not belong.

"Thinking about it," he said, his voice carrying a thoughtful humor, "it is really strange to have something stuck to your spine just to translate. I mean, I have seen neural implants before. On Mars, we have pilots who use direct connectors to link with ships. But this is different. It is like the device is alive."

Magistrate Coukisa made a deep sound that the translator interpreted as a sign of calm. "Do not worry about that, Ruben of the humans. In a few days, the device will come off on its own. It was designed for that. Its job is not permanent. It attaches to the central nervous system, learns the host's language patterns, and transfers them to the brain. Once the process is complete, you will no longer need it to talk. Your brain will have learned our language."

Ruben blinked in surprise. "It teaches the language? Directly to the brain? That is... That is accelerated learning technology. We have prototypes of that on Earth and Mars. Nothing this advanced, nothing that works in days. You can implant a whole language in days?"

"Yes," Coukisa confirmed. He touched his own neck with one of his front arms, showing that he also wore a device. "I put one on too. Right now, I am speaking in my native language, and you understand me. But the device is, at the same time, teaching my brain to understand your language. In a matter of days, I will no longer need it. I will be able to speak with you directly, without tech help."

"That is fascinating," Ruben said, genuinely impressed. He leaned back against the polished stone wall of the room, crossing his arms. "Seriously. Fascinating. If we could take this technology back home, it would revolutionize education. It would wipe out the language barriers between Earth and Mars once and for all."

Coukisa tilted his head, that gesture of curiosity that Ruben was starting to recognize. "You praise the technology, but it is not mine. It does not belong to the Mukens."

"No?"

"No," the Magistrate confirmed. "This technology belongs to the Keplorian Federation. We received it from them, along with many other things." He paused, his four eyes scanning the room as if the walls held the memories of what he was about to tell. "Fifty solar cycles ago, the Keplorian Federation came to this world. We, the Mukens, were then in what you would probably call the industrial revolution era. We had factories, steam engines, and early railroads. We were starting to understand electricity. We were a civilization in transition, with all the challenges that brings: pollution, inequality, and resource conflicts."

He paused, and his eyes seemed to fix on a distant point in time. "When the Federation arrived, many of us feared the worst. Invasion. Subjugation. But they did not come as conquerors. They came as mentors. They said we were a promising species, that we were on the edge of something great or something terrible. They offered us technology. Not just machines, but knowledge. And they offered us a choice: to care for our own world, instead of exploiting it to exhaustion."

Ruben listened closely, his brown eyes fixed on the Magistrate. "It was a choice, then. You chose to stay."

"Yes," Coukisa nodded. "We chose to stay. The Federation helped us heal our world, develop clean energy sources, and build cities that do not hurt the natural balance. In return, they only asked us to join them as associate members."

"That is why you do not want to leave your world," Ruben said, connecting the dots. "You already have everything you need here. And that is also why you did not notice our arrival, right? You do not have orbital defense systems. You do not have your own surveillance satellites."

Coukisa moved his front arms in a gesture that suggested agreement. "We do not have our own satellites. Our civilization, before the Federation, had barely started exploring nearby space using only basic telescopes. After the Federation, we never felt the need to weaponize our orbit. However, the Federation left some monitoring satellites for our safety. They track interstellar traffic, detect unauthorized approaches, and send alerts."

He paused, and Ruben noticed something in his expression. A hesitation.

"This region of space is basically the inside of the Federation," Coukisa continued. "It is very safe. There are no interstellar pirates. There are no hostile powers. Or..."

"Or?" Ruben asked, catching the hesitation.

Coukisa's four eyes locked onto him. For a moment, the Magistrate seemed to weigh something. Then he shook his head, a subtle movement that involved his whole torso. "It is nothing. You do not need to worry. It is probably not relevant to your visit."

Ruben wanted to push. His pilot instincts, shaped in battles where a missing piece of info could mean death, screamed at him to ask more. But he was also an accidental diplomat, and pressing the host in the first few minutes of conversation did not seem like the best strategy.

"Alright," he said, putting the matter aside for the moment.

Coukisa seemed to relax slightly. He moved on the cushioned platform, adjusting his four-legged body into a more comfortable pose. "Now, Ruben of the humans, I would like to hear more about your world. About the worlds of the humans. You mentioned Mars and Earth. Two worlds. Two peoples. I am curious."

He paused, and his eyes shined with genuine curiosity. "The Federation does not come around here much. We get formal visits every few cycles, but they are brief and official. We rarely hear news from the outside. And speaking of the Federation, it is likely they already know your ship entered the system. The monitoring satellites must have detected your warp signature. They will probably ask for information about you soon."

Camila, who had stayed quiet until then, moved slightly. It was an almost invisible movement, a shift of weight from one foot to the other, but Ruben noticed it.

"Are they hostile?" she asked, her voice flat and direct. It was the first time she had spoken since they entered the room.

Coukisa turned to her, curious and wondering to himself when she had put on the translation device. "No. Not at all. The Keplorian Federation is peaceful. They have their bureaucracies, their protocols, their rules. But they are not hostile. You do not need to worry about them."

"I am not worried about that," Ruben stepped in with a wave of his hand, ignoring the fact that Camila now understood the Magistrate too. "We came in peace. We are explorers. If they want information, we will give them information. But first, you wanted to know about us."

He stepped away from the wall and started to walk slowly around the room, gesturing as he spoke. It was a habit Camila knew well after spending too much time training with him.

"The Solar System," he began, "is a group of eight planets orbiting a yellow star we call the Sun. Earth is the third planet. It is the cradle of humanity. A blue and green world, covered in oceans and forests, with ice caps, deserts, and mountains. For thousands of years, it was the only world we knew."

He paused, his eyes getting a nostalgic shine. "But Earth is overcrowded. Bilhões of humans live there. Our cities are huge, our industries consume resources, and our climate is changing. It is still beautiful, it is still home, but it is tired. We have overexploited it."

"Mars," he continued, "is the fourth planet. A smaller, colder, drier world. We colonized it a century ago. We built cities under domes, partially terraformed its surface, and created a new civilization. But Mars does not have the same resources as Earth. It cannot support a human population in the long run. Not the way we are growing."

He stopped walking and turned to Coukisa. "And so, for a while, Earth and Mars went to war."

"War?" Coukisa asked, the word sounding heavy in his deep voice.

"War," Ruben confirmed. "Earth wanted to keep control over Mars. Mars wanted independence. For years, we fought each other. I was a combat pilot myself. I defended a Martian station against Earth forces. It was a nasty, bloody war that almost destroyed everything we had built."

He paused, and the room seemed to get quieter. "But in the end, the war ended. Not because one side won, but because both sides realized they would lose everything if they kept going. Mars got its independence. Earth agreed to negotiate. And, for the first time in a long time, humans started looking outward, instead of fighting each other."

"The Pax mission," Camila said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "The first manned interstellar mission."

"Exactly," Ruben agreed. "The Pax is proof that we can work together. A Martian and an Earther, on the same ship, exploring the stars. We built the first tested FTL engine. A dimensional warp that lets us cross impossible distances in a matter of days."

"But it is still a prototype. Limited. We only made three jumps to get here. And we only have enough fuel for three more to get back. We cannot explore forever. This mission is a first step."

Coukisa stayed silent for a long moment, his four eyes fixed on Ruben, processing everything he had heard. The story of two worlds, of war and reconciliation, of an experimental engine and a bold mission. It all echoed, in some way, with the history of his own people.

"You are much more than you look," he finally said. "Small in size, but big in courage. You came from far away, with limited resources, without knowing what you would find. And yet, the first move you made was to reach out your hand."

He moved his front arms in the gesture of peace and respect. "The Mukens honor that courage. And I, as the Magistrate of Vennthar, will do everything in my power to help you."

Ruben tilted his head in a sign of respect, a move that was not natural for his two-legged body, but seemed to convey his intent well. "Thank you, Magistrate. Truly. You welcomed us better than many humans would welcome strangers in their central square."

The Magistrate Coukisa made a deep, rhythmic sound, something the translator did not turn into words, but Ruben instinctively took as a warm welcome. Then the Muken moved his front arms in a practical gesture, like someone remembering the basic needs of living beings.

"You must be hungry," he said, his four eyes scanning the two humans with fresh attention. "The interstellar trip you described, three warp jumps, must have used up your supplies. I will arrange something for you to eat."

He paused, and his expression changed subtly. Ruben was already starting to learn that, in Mukens, non-verbal communication involved tiny twitches of the muscles around the four eyes, almost invisible movements of the leftover ears, and shifts in the posture of the front arms.

"I must confess something," Coukisa continued, his voice taking on a slightly embarrassed tone. "At first, when I saw you coming out of the ship, in your dark suits and with your faces hidden by helmets, I thought you were carnivores. Predators. If that were the case, there would be nothing here for you to eat. We, the Mukens, are strict herbivores. We do not keep meat in our stores. We do not produce it. It would be a major logistical problem."

Ruben frowned, confused. "Why did you think we were carnivores?"

"Your eyes," Coukisa explained, pointing with one of his front arms at Ruben's face. "Front-facing eyes. In our world, predators have front eyes. Prey have side eyes. It is an almost universal rule in our planet's biology. When I saw your eyes facing forward, my first impression was: predators. But now, seeing you up close, looking at you better..."

"You do not have fangs. You do not have claws. Your teeth, from what I could see when you smile, are flat. Your body structure does not seem built for hunting. You are not carnivores, are you?"

Ruben smiled. It was a small smile, barely showing his teeth, since he still did not know if showing teeth was offensive to the Mukens. "Do not worry about that, Magistrate. Humans eat plants too. In fact, we have very varied diets."

The effect of those words was instant and unexpected.

Coukisa stopped. Completely. His four back legs went stiff on the polished stone floor. His front arms, which had been moving, froze in midair. Even his leftover ears, which Ruben had barely noticed until then, seemed to tighten. The four amber eyes locked onto Ruben with an intensity that bordered on shock.

"Do you mean," Coukisa began, his voice sounding different, slower, more careful, "that you eat meat... and plants? Both? Both types of food?"

Ruben looked at Camila, then back at the Magistrate. "Yes. We are omnivores. We eat meat, vegetables, fruits, grains, dairy, basically everything that is edible and doesn't kill us. It is one of the evolutionary advantages of our species. Our diet is extremely flexible."

Coukisa did not answer right away. He stood still, his four eyes still fixed on Ruben, but now with a different quality. It was no longer curiosity or hospitality. It was something Ruben could not fully read, but his instinct flagged it as deep disturbance.

Then the Magistrate did something that surprised both humans. He took a half-step back. It was a subtle, almost automatic move, as if his body had reacted before his mind. His posture, always straight and dignified, looked slightly slumped.

"I need to... step out for a moment," Coukisa said, his voice tense now. "Please, wait here. I will not be long."

And then he turned and left the room, his four legs making a sound of hooves against the stone that echoed off the walls of the vaulted chamber. The sound faded until it vanished completely.

Ruben and Camila were left alone.

The silence that followed was heavy, loaded with confusion. Ruben looked at the door where Coukisa had vanished, then at Camila, then at the door again. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"That was weird," he finally said. "Very weird. He was perfectly fine, we were talking, I thanked him, he offered food, and suddenly... that. Did I say something wrong? Was it the meat thing? Was it the smile? Maybe I showed my teeth without realizing it, and to them, that means 'I am going to eat you'?"

Camila did not answer right away. She was still looking at the door, her gray eyes narrowed in analytical focus. "I was watching him the whole time," she said, her voice calm and measured. "It is hard to read an alien's expression. Very hard. Their body language is not like ours. They have four eyes. Four. Each eye can move on its own. Their expressions are a combination of dozens of tiny twitches that we are not equipped to interpret naturally."

"But?" Ruben pushed, knowing her well enough to know there was a "but" coming.

"But I noticed changes," Camila continued. "When you mentioned we eat plants, he was relaxed. Open. When you mentioned we also eat meat, there was a break. His posture changed. His breathing changed. I noticed that the pupils of his four eyes shrank at the same time. In humans, that would be a warning sign. Of fear or a negative surprise."

She paused, turning to face Ruben. "You did nothing wrong. It was the information itself that upset him."

Ruben ran a hand through his short hair, a gesture of frustration. "Great. Just great. First contact with an alien species, and I reveal that we are basically the closest thing to a biological nightmare for them. Omnivores. What is wrong with that?"

He paused, and then a thought hit him. He turned to Camila with a different look, the topic changing abruptly. "Speaking of strange things stuck to the body... you didn't want to put the translation device on. I thought you believed that biomechanical larva might be a parasite. And honestly, I thought about that possibility too. For a second. But then I figured you wouldn't put it on for exactly that reason."

Camila held his gaze for a moment. Then, she did something that was extremely rare: she answered a personal question from Ruben with something other than sarcasm or avoidance.

"You were partly right. I didn't put the device on right away because I needed more data. But you were wrong about the main reason." She paused. "I needed to listen to the conversation too. Even without understanding the words, I needed to hear his tones, rhythms, and reactions. That is how I work. I observe."

She looked away for a moment, as if weighing whether she should continue. "Plus, my immune system is better than yours. Significantly better. I was designed to resist unknown pathogens. If the device really were a hostile parasite, I would have a better chance of surviving than you. It was logical for you to test it first. If something went wrong with you, I would still be functional to take action."

Ruben stared at her. There was something in his eyes that wasn't exactly surprise, but a kind of reluctant admiration. "You used me as a guinea pig."

"Yes."

"And you admit it openly."

"You asked."

Ruben shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "I will pretend to believe it was just logic. I will pretend there was no personal concern there."

"It is more convenient for you," Camila agreed.

The silence returned for a moment. Then Camila spoke again, her voice more serious now.

"Changing the subject again, something about eating meat and plants deeply bothered the Magistrate. It wasn't a mild reaction. It was likely a reaction of fear."

Ruben frowned. "You think that's all it is? I mean, it's just a diet. There is nothing wrong with eating meat and plants. Billions of humans do it every day. It's normal."

"For humans it is normal," Camila corrected, her voice taking on that tone of forced patience she used when he missed an obvious point. "For us, who evolved as omnivores, who domesticated animals, who built an entire civilization based on eating animal and plant protein, it is perfectly normal. But for them, it must not be."

She started walking around the room, her steps silent on the polished stone. "Think about it. They are strict herbivores. He said it himself: if we were carnivores, they would have nothing to offer us. To them, eating meat might be something morally awful. Or biologically impossible. Or culturally forbidden. We don't know. But whatever the reason, the idea of a species that consumes other living beings could be deeply disturbing to them."

Ruben fell silent, taking it in. He leaned back against the stone wall, arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. "So I might have ruined everything? Humanity's first contact, and I might have ruined it all by mentioning that I like a good steak?"

Camila turned to him. Her gray eyes met his. "You haven't ruined anything. Not yet. He left, but he didn't throw us out. He asked us to wait. That means he is processing the information. It means there is still room for dialogue."

She paused, and the corner of her mouth moved into something that, on anyone else, would be a smile. "But I admit there is nothing that cannot get worse when it comes to you."

Ruben put his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "You really hurt my feelings. Seriously. I am a hero. A reckless hero, maybe. But a hero."

"Reckless," Camila repeated. "That is the keyword."

"You still love me."

"I do not have that," she answered automatically, but there was something in her voice that was not as cold as before. Something that maybe, in some parallel universe, could be mistaken for affection.

"Wow," Ruben said, touching the back of his neck where the biomechanical device pulsed softly against his skin. He felt the object as a constant tingling, a strange feeling his brain had not yet decided to accept or reject. "This is a bit weird. I am actually talking to another being. An alien. It is not a simulation, not a training exercise, not a dream brought on by lack of sleep. It is real. You are there, I am here, and words are flowing between us."

Magistrate Coukisa tilted his head slightly, a move that meant curiosity among the Mukens. His four eyes blinked one after the other, an automatic reflex of cognitive processing. "Allow me a question, traveler. From your tone of amazement, is this the first time you have seen another smart species? Has your kind never met other people among the stars?"

"No," Ruben answered simply. He paused, feeling the weight of the confession. "We are the first. Us humans. Until today, until this exact moment, humanity was alone in the universe. We searched, we guessed, we imagined. But we had never found anyone. You, Magistrate, are the answer to a question we have been asking for thousands of years."

Coukisa stood still, processing. The idea that these beings had crossed the empty space between stars without knowing what they would find was almost impossible to grasp. It was an act of faith. Or madness.

"We call ourselves humans," Ruben continued, standing up straighter. He touched his chest with his palm, an instinct to introduce himself. "I am Ruben. I was born on a world called Mars, the fourth planet of a star system very, very far from here. We came on a mission to explore. Our ship, the Pax, was built by two peoples who were at war until recently. This mission is proof that we can live together."

"Humans," Coukisa repeated, the word sounding strange in his deep voice. The translation device worked both ways, and Ruben heard the word in his own language, but noticed the Magistrate had pronounced it with his mouth, testing the sound. "Ruben. Mars. Pax."

The Magistrate was quiet for a moment. His eyes moved, not like they were restless, but as if he was rearranging his thoughts. Then he spoke, his voice lower, more controlled.

"Then it is best we talk in a more private place. There is much to discuss, and the central square is not the right place for it."

"Fine by me," Ruben answered right away. He looked back at Camila, who stayed quiet, and then turned back to Coukisa.

The Magistrate followed Ruben's gaze. His four eyes locked onto Camila with a thoughtful intensity. She held his gaze, unmoving, her helmet still under her arm, her face a mask of professional neutrality.

"Oh, yes, sorry," Ruben said, noticing Coukisa's curiosity. "This is Camila. She runs the ship's systems. She is the best systems tech I know. And she is the female of our species. I mean, the female sex. The woman."

Coukisa processed the information. The idea of two sexes was not strange to him; Mukens had it too, though the differences were smaller and had to do with fur color and the size of scent glands. "I understand. Camila. Welcome to you too."

Camila just nodded slightly. She did not hold out her hand again. She did not smile. She was in full assessment mode.

Coukisa turned back to Ruben. "There is something I must ask. Why didn't she put on the translation device? I brought two. One for each of you." He held up the second device, which still pulsed in his left hand.

Ruben scratched the back of his neck, a gesture the translator probably did not need to process, since it was purely human. "Ah, that. Well, Camila is a very suspicious person. She likes to analyze everything before making any decision. It is her way. I hope you do not see this as disrespectful. It is not. It is just caution. She is like that with everyone."

Coukisa made a deep sound, something between a mumble and a purr, which the translator did not interpret as a word, but which Ruben instinctively understood as a sign of understanding. "It is alright. I perfectly understand her reasons. She does not know me. She does not know my people. She does not know if the device is safe. Distrust is a rational response to the unknown."

The Magistrate paused, his eyes meeting Ruben's again. "You, on the other hand, were very brave to trust me and put the device on. Very brave. Or very reckless."

Ruben laughed. The sound echoed across the square and made some guards stir again. "Where I come from, they call me both. Reckless and a hero. Sometimes in the same sentence. It is an unofficial title."

Coukisa did not laugh, but his eyes shined in a way that suggested he got the joke, even if he did not show it the same way. Then he turned and signaled Chief Guard Yulthar, who came over quickly.

"Prepare an escort," Coukisa ordered. "We are going to the Audience Chamber."

Yulthar bowed his torso. "Right away, Magistrate."

The trip to the transport vehicle was short, but enough for Ruben to take in every detail. The square fell behind, the crowd now cleared out, the guards forming a protective hallway around the group. They walked down a wide street, lined with limestone buildings that glowed with bluish veins under the sunlight. The architecture was huge and organic at the same time, as if the buildings had grown from the ground instead of being built on top of it.

Then they reached the vehicle. It was a long structure, without wheels, that floated quietly over a magnetic track built into the ground. Its surface was smooth, with no sharp edges, and it glowed with the same amber light Ruben had already linked to Muken technology.

"This is very cool," Ruben said, walking up to the vehicle with shining eyes. "It is a magnetic train. I mean, not exactly a train, but the idea is the same. We have vehicles like this on the worlds of our home solar system. Magnetic levitation trains. Of course, ours do not glow like this, and they do not look like they were grown instead of built, but the idea is the same."

He ran his hand over the vehicle's hull, feeling the smooth, warm texture. "And the architecture. From what little I have seen, from the buildings we passed, you seem to be a civilization that values harmony. Everything fits. Everything seems designed to be beautiful and useful at the same time. It is not like our cities, where things are built in a rush, one on top of the other, with no plan. Here, I feel like every stone was put in the right place."

Camila heard everything. She walked next to Ruben, her eyes scanning the area with her usual intensity, but there was something different in her expression. It was subtle, almost invisible, but she was intrigued. Not by the architecture. Not by the vehicle. But by the fact that Ruben spoke in his native language, that relaxed flow of words she knew so well, while Coukisa answered in his own language, a deep, changing string of sounds. And yet, they understood each other perfectly. The biomechanical device on Ruben's neck was translating everything in real time, somehow, through some mechanism that defied the technology she knew. It was as if two rivers of completely different sounds were flowing in opposite directions and meeting at some invisible point in the air.

"This world," Coukisa said as they got into the vehicle, "is the only one my species has ever known. It is the cradle of the Mukens. And it is the place we chose to stay. We have no ambition to leave it."

He settled onto a cushioned platform that served as a seat for his four-legged body. Ruben and Camila sat on a side bench, designed for Muken children, and Ruben noticed the bench was surprisingly comfortable.

"I do not judge other species that do the opposite," Coukisa continued. "The Keplorian Federation is made up of peoples who, like you, looked to the stars. Each has its reasons. We, the Mukens, simply found everything we need right here. Our world gives us sustenance, beauty, and peace. We do not feel the need to look for more."

Ruben nodded, thoughtful. "That is admirable. In a way, it is the opposite of us. Humans have always wanted more. More land, more knowledge, more stars. Maybe that is why we are here."

The vehicle glided quietly through the city. Through the clear windows, Ruben caught glimpses of more Muken architecture: towers that curved like branches, bridges connecting buildings in graceful arches, smaller squares where groups of Mukens gathered. Everything had an old and solid quality, as if that civilization had existed for thousands of years in no rush to change.

Finally, the vehicle stopped in front of a huge building. It was the biggest structure Ruben had seen so far, a limestone dome that rose like an artificial mountain. Veins of the bluish mineral he had noticed before formed complex patterns on the front, as if they were telling a story in a forgotten visual language. They walked through a wide doorway, and the inside was lit by the same amber light from the bioluminescent lamps.

They were guided down wide hallways, where Mukens in robes stopped to watch the two-legged visitors with looks of quiet curiosity. Finally, they reached a huge room. The ceiling was high and vaulted, and the walls were covered with tapestries that seemed to tell the history of the Muken people. In the center, a raised platform held what was clearly the Magistrate's seat, a cushioned structure built for a four-legged body. There were no chairs. There were no benches for two-legged visitors.

Coukisa looked around the room and made a sound the translator took as a sigh of slight embarrassment. "I apologize for not having proper seats for you here. This room was designed many centuries ago, and we never imagined we would have visitors with your physical shape."

Ruben looked at Camila, then at the polished stone floor, and shrugged. "No problem, Magistrate. To be honest, it would be very weird if you had chairs for humans here. It would be a level of coincidence I would not be ready to accept."

He paused and smiled. "We will manage. We are human. Adapting is what we do best."

"Magistrate, what are you doing?"

Chief Guard Yulthar's voice sounded choked, a loud whisper desperately trying to keep formal composure while his boss simply started walking. Coukisa did not stop. His four back legs moved with the slow, steady rhythm of someone who was not willing to be questioned. The muffled sound of his hooves against the square's stones echoed in the tense silence that had fallen over the place.

"Someone has to take the lead," Coukisa answered without taking his four eyes off the two two-legged creatures. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a final decision. "If they are a threat, I will know soon enough. If they are travelers, let them find a host, not a wall of spears."

Yulthar opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it. He knew that tone. It was the tone Coukisa used when he had already calculated all the possible risks and decided the only acceptable way was forward. The Chief Guard made a sharp gesture with one of his arms, ordering his men to hold their ground. No one was to step in.

On the other side of the square, the two two-legged beings looked clearly confused. Coukisa noticed the hesitation in how they stood. The smaller one in the darker suit turned its helmet toward the larger one, a quick movement that suggested silent communication. The larger one stood still for a moment, both feet planted on the ground as if judging the situation. Then, to Coukisa's surprise, he also started to walk.

It was a strange walk, clumsy to a Muken's eyes, but fascinating at the same time. The creature moved one leg at a time, its body swaying slightly with each step, its arms swinging at its sides in a natural rhythm. It was like watching a baby taking its first steps, except that being was clearly not a baby of any kind. It was an adult of its species, and every movement showed a calm confidence.

They both stopped when the distance between them closed to about fifteen feet. Coukisa could now see details he had missed before. The being's suit was made of a material that did not fully reflect light, with panels and seams that suggested layers of protection and usefulness. On its left forearm, a device glowed with strange symbols. The helmet, a dark and polished dome, partly hid the face, but Coukisa felt the weight of a gaze coming from inside.

The Magistrate took a deep breath. He did not know if the being understood language. He did not know if the being even understood the idea of language as the Mukens knew it. But communication was not just words. It was posture. It was intent. It was the first gesture.

Coukisa slowly raised his two front arms, keeping his palms open and facing up, his long, jointed fingers stretched out. Among the Mukens, that was an ancient gesture: "I have no weapons. I have no intent to harm. I offer peace and respect." He held the pose for three beats of his double heart.

Then he spoke. His voice came out deep and slow, each syllable spoken carefully.

"I am Coukisa, Magistrate of the Vennthar region, servant of the Muken people and guardian of this land. I greet you in the name of peace and understanding."

He knew the words would mean nothing to the creature. But he hoped the tone, the rhythm, and the very act of making organized sounds would send a universal message. I communicate. I think. I am like you, in some way.

The two-legged being stood still. Completely still. For long seconds, there was no reaction at all. Coukisa began to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake in protocol, if the open-arms gesture meant something offensive in that people's culture, if maybe he should have waited, should have sent the guards, should have...

Then the being moved.

He looked at the device on his forearm. The screen glowed with a set of symbols and lines that Coukisa could not read. The being studied those readings for a moment, as if they confirmed something. Then, he raised his hands, two limbs with five fingers each, similar to Coukisa's but smaller and without the webbing between them, and brought them to the helmet.

There was a click. A hiss of escaping pressurized air. And the helmet came off.

Coukisa held his breath.

The face that appeared under the dark dome was... surprising. Not a monster. Not alien in the terrifying way the old stories described. It was a face. Two front eyes, like the Mukens', and without side eyes, but a warm brown that caught the sunlight. A central nose bump. A mouth surrounded by a short strip of dark hair. The skin was a golden brown color, textured with fine lines around the eyes. Expression. That face had expression, a mix of curiosity and caution that Coukisa recognized right away, because it was exactly what he felt.

For a moment, the two looked into each other's eyes. One pair of brown eyes meeting four amber ones. And something passed between them. A silent recognition of intelligence. Of presence.

The being turned his head back, looking at his partner. The other two-legged creature clearly hesitated, her hand hovering over her own helmet. Then, with a slowness that showed caution, she removed it too.

The second face was different from the first. The skin was lighter, the hair darker and pulled back tight. The eyes were gray, cold, and analyzing. The expression was not curious, but an intense evaluation. Even so, Coukisa felt that being was not a threat either.

The first being turned his attention back to Coukisa. His mouth moved, and sounds came out. They were words, Coukisa was sure. The rhythm, the changing tones, it all pointed to an organized language. But the meaning was a total blank. They were just noises, impossible to understand, and frustrating.

The being seemed to notice the barrier. He paused, frowned, and thought. Then, with a clear motion, he held out his right hand toward Coukisa, his fingers together and the palm facing sideways.

Coukisa watched. The being pointed to his own hand, then to Coukisa, and made a grabbing motion in the air. He repeated the gesture, slower, and then pointed to his outstretched hand again. It was clearly an invitation for Coukisa to do something with that hand.

The Magistrate looked at the hand. Five fingers. Brown skin. Flat, short nails. It looked like a Muken front paw, but smaller and without claws. He understood suddenly. It was a ritual. A touch greeting. His species also had touch rituals, though they usually involved pressing forearms together, not the hands. But the idea was the same, touch as a sign of trust. You do not touch an enemy. You touch an equal. Interesting.

Coukisa moved slowly. His right front arm reached out, his large hand carefully wrapping around the being's hand. He felt the warmth of the skin, the firmness of the muscles, the slight shake that showed controlled adrenaline.

The being moved their joined hands up and down, a pumping motion. Coukisa let his hand follow the rhythm. Three pumps. Then the being let go, and Coukisa did the same.

He did not know what that ritual meant to the two-legged beings. But to him, in that moment, it meant the first step had been taken.

---

Ruben turned his body slightly, still feeling the tingling in his right hand after the handshake with the four-legged creature. He looked back to where Camila stood perfectly still a few feet away, her helmet now under her arm, her gray eyes fixed on the scene as if she were analyzing every frame of a combat simulation.

"Camila," he called out, his voice sounding strangely clear in the thin, quiet air of the square. "Come here. Come stand by me."

She hesitated for a second. Then she walked. Her steps were measured, precise, the posture of someone ready to react to any sign of a threat. When she got close enough not to be heard by the distant crowd, she spoke, her voice low and tense.

"I never thought I would say this, Ruben, but this is crazy. Completely crazy. We just landed on an alien planet, we are surrounded by eight-foot-tall creatures with four eyes and six limbs, and you just shook hands with one of them like you were closing a deal at a market on Mars."

Ruben smiled. The smile had no malice, just a kind of genuine joy that seemed completely out of place in that situation. "That, Camila, is being human. And humans do crazy things. It is what brought us here. It was not caution that got us out of the caves. It was the crazy idea to explore what was over the hill."

She stayed quiet. Not because she agreed, but because she did not have an immediate logical argument. He took advantage of the opening.

"Now, please, greet the being too. He is standing right there, waiting. Just look at him. He has not bitten, has not attacked, has not done anything but be polite. It is his turn to learn that humans have two representatives here."

Camila looked over at Coukisa, who was watching her with his four amber eyes, his expression unreadable, but his posture relaxed. She took a deep breath.

"Do not be afraid of his height," Ruben added, his voice softer now. "He is big. Very big. But he looks friendly. Look into his eyes. They are not a predator's eyes. They are the eyes of someone who is just as confused as we are."

She did not answer. Instead, she took a step forward, stopping next to Ruben. Then, slowly, she held out her right hand toward Coukisa, exactly as Ruben had done. The gesture was the same, but the energy behind it was different. It was more controlled, more careful. It was the hand of someone who trusted rules, not instincts.

Magistrate Coukisa watched the outstretched hand. His four eyes moved slightly, as if adjusting their focus. He noticed that this creature was smaller than the first. Her features were sharper. Her eyes were colder. But the gesture was the same. The ritual was the same. He understood.

Slowly, with the same gentleness he had used with Ruben, Coukisa raised his front arm and wrapped his hand around Camila's. Her skin was colder than Ruben's, her fingers thinner, but the firmness was there. He moved their joined hands up and down three times, and then let go.

Ruben looked at Camila, a satisfied smile on his lips. "See? It was not so bad. You survived. You did not lose any fingers. You were not abducted. A total success."

Camila stayed quiet. Her eyes were still locked on Coukisa. She did not smile, did not relax. But she did not step back either.

That was when Coukisa spoke. Deep, changing sounds came from his throat, a string of syllables flowing like a river of rocks. He gestured with his front arms as he spoke, pointing to himself, to the square, to the sky. It was clear he was trying to communicate. The words were impossible to understand, but the intent was clear.

Ruben shook his head in frustration. "I do not understand anything. Absolutely nothing. It sounds like an organized, complex language full of details, but to me it is like someone is playing a musical instrument with their mouth. I am sorry, friend, but it is not working."

The Magistrate seemed to notice the lack of understanding. He paused, his four eyes narrowing. Then he mumbled something in a different tone, lower, almost as if talking to himself. And then, to the surprise of both humans, he turned and walked away, heading toward the line of guards.

Ruben felt his chest tighten. "Did I do something wrong? Did I say something that offended him? Was it my tone of voice? Does smiling show teeth and to them that is a sign of aggression? Camila, did I do something wrong?"

"Probably not," she answered, her voice calm. "He did not look offended. He looked... determined. Like he remembered something."

She paused, her eyes sweeping over the square around them. The crowd was slowly backing away, Yulthar's guards starting to clear them out as Coukisa had ordered. The sun was shining above, and a gentle breeze brought the smell of plants no human had ever smelled before.

"This really could have been worse," Camila admitted, almost against her will. "Much worse. There were no weapons. There were no threats. There was only... a handshake."

Ruben turned to her, his smile coming back in full force. "Right? So my approach gave positive results. The Ruben style of diplomacy. It works on humans, it works on Martians, it works on four-legged aliens from ringed planets. It is universal."

"That is not what I meant," Camila shot back.

"You hurt my feelings," Ruben said, putting his hand to his chest in a dramatic way. "I expose myself to the unknown, make history, and you play down my success. Where is the spirit of celebration?"

Before Camila could answer, the sound of hooves on stone announced Coukisa's return. The Magistrate was coming closer again, but now he was carrying something in his hands. It was a small object, the size of a Muken fist, pulsing with a soft amber light. Its surface was uneven, as if made of an organic material that had shaped itself. It looked somewhat sticky. Something alive. Something biomechanical.

Coukisa stopped in front of Ruben and held the object out to him. Then he looked at Camila and made the same welcoming gesture. He wanted them both to see it. He wanted them both to touch it.

Ruben tilted his head, fascinated. The object seemed to pulse in a rhythm almost matched to his own heartbeat. "What is this? It looks like a slug, but shiny. A technological slug."

Camila narrowed her eyes. Her clone instincts, programmed to judge risks with superhuman speed, set off alarms. "I would not do that, Ruben. We do not know what it is. It could be a parasite. It could be a mind control device. It could be something that eats brain tissue. Do not touch it."

Ruben looked at her. Then at the object. Then at Coukisa, who stood perfectly still, his four eyes locked on him with a look that could only be described as patient waiting.

"I have to try," he said.

"You do not have to try anything," Camila shot back. "We can go back to the ship. We can set up communication through other means. Safe methods. Methods that do not involve putting alien goo on your body."

"Camila," Ruben said, his voice serious now. "I trust him. I do not know why. Maybe it is instinct. Maybe it is just me being naive. But I looked into his eyes, and what I saw was not a threat. It was curiosity. It was hope. The same things I feel."

He paused. "Besides, didn't you pick me for this mission? Trust your own judgment."

"I am starting to regret picking you," she mumbled.

Ruben laughed. The sound echoed through the square, a strange and happy noise that made several Muken guards shift around. "You say that, but I know you love me. Deep down in that calculating clone soul, there is a heart that beats for me."

"I do not have that," she answered, her voice perfectly neutral. "Literally. My biogenesis did not include full emotional programming. You know that."

"Of course not," Ruben winked. And then, before she could protest again, he took the object from Coukisa's hands.

It was warm. Not the heat of an electronic device, but the heat of something alive. The surface was slightly wet, but not unpleasant. It pulsed. Ruben felt the pulse travel through his fingers, climb up his arm, as if the object were testing his nervous system.

"Where do I put this?" he asked, looking at Coukisa.

The Magistrate seemed to understand the question from the context. He raised one of his front arms and touched a specific spot on his own neck, right below the base of the skull, where the spine started. The gesture was clear: right there.

Ruben nodded. Ignoring Camila's angry glare, he brought the object to his neck, placing it near his spine. The object seemed to sense how close it was to his central nervous system. It vibrated. Its surface tightened. And then, with an almost voluntary movement, it stuck itself to Ruben's skin.

The feeling was a shock. Not of pain, but of connection. Ruben felt something cold run down his spine, climb up to his brain stem, and spread through his cortex like an electric spider web. His eyes went wide. His fingers twitched. And then... Silence.

And then, Magistrate Coukisa spoke again. The same deep words, the same complex rhythm. But this time, Ruben understood. Not like someone hearing a translation. Like someone who simply understands. The meaning bloomed in his mind as if it had always been there, asleep, waiting to be woken up.

"I hope we can understand each other now," Coukisa said.

Ruben opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was processing. Behind him, Camila took a step forward, her hand hovering over her suit's holster, ready for the worst.

Coukisa looked at both of them. Then he made the gesture of peace and respect again with his front arms, his open palms facing up.

"I am Coukisa," he said. "Magistrate of the Vennthar region, servant of the Muken people and guardian of this land. I greet you, star travelers, in the name of peace and understanding. And I ask you now, for the first time with the hope of an answer, who are you?"

Magistrate Coukisa's office was a polished limestone room, inlaid with veins of a bluish mineral that sparkled under the amber light of the bioluminescent lamps. The room was simple and practical, fitting for the main administrative center of the Vennthar region. Coukisa kept his four back legs firmly planted on the heated floor, while his two front arms, attached to his long torso, handled a series of data tablets with the careful precision of someone who had spent decades in public service. His fur, once black as the basalt of the northern mountains, was now spotted with silver hairs, the marks of a job that aged him faster than time itself.

He was reviewing a land dispute between two shepherd clans when the door opened. It was not a smooth and formal opening; it burst open. His assistant, a young male with fur still dotted with the gray spots of youth, rushed through the doorway without even announcing himself. His eyes, four deep amber spheres, were wide open. He was breathing heavily.

"Magistrate," he said, his voice shaking. "We have a situation."

Coukisa raised his head, leaving the tablets. His two pairs of eyes focused intensely on the assistant. He knew that tone. It was the tone of bad news. "What is it?"

The assistant hesitated, as if words were not enough for what he had just seen. "A ship. An unknown ship. It just landed in the Central Square."

Coukisa felt a shiver run down his spine. "Did it identify itself? Are they from the Federation?" The question came out faster than he meant. The Keplorian Federation was the only known interstellar power in his sector. Visits from federal ships were rare, but not unheard of.

The assistant shook his head, a move that for his species meant moving his whole upper body side to side. "No. That does not seem to be the case, Magistrate. The ship's design does not match any Federation model. There are no known symbols. And there was no prior communication. None at all."

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the hum of the lamps. Coukisa took a deep breath, the air passing through the smelling slits on his neck. His mind, trained by decades of crisis management, was already spinning. "Alright," he said, standing up. His four back legs moved with a natural smoothness, while his front arms fixed his magistrate's cloak over his shoulders. "We are going there."

The trip to the Central Square was a blur. The official vehicle glided quietly along the city's magnetic tracks, but Coukisa barely noticed his surroundings. His mind was racing. In his entire life as the magistrate of Vennthar, in all his cycles of service, nothing even remotely similar had happened to him. Ships did not just land in the city center. Not without warning, not without rules. The possibilities branched out like the limbs of a poisoned tree.

It could be a lost ship, the victim of a navigation failure that brought it off the established routes. It could be an exploration mission from some distant power, not tied to the Federation, stumbling onto their world by accident. It could be the frontline of an invasion, although choosing to land in a public square in broad daylight made no tactical sense. It could be first contact. Just the thought made his heart, a double organ in his chest, beat faster. First contact was almost a myth, a rare idea discussed in schools. Not something that happened on a normal afternoon while reviewing farming disputes.

When the vehicle stopped, Coukisa had already calmed himself down. He was the Magistrate. His face was a mask of commanding calm.

The Central Square was unrecognizable. Where there were usually merchants, kids playing, and elders enjoying the sun, there was now a huge crowd. Hundreds of four-legged bodies pushed against each other, standing on their back legs to see better. The guards, with their ceramic armor and energy batons, had formed a line around the ship, but the barrier, or rather, the barrier of bodies, was hard to hold back. The murmur of the crowd was a deep and steady buzz, broken by high-pitched cries of surprise.

Coukisa got out of the vehicle, and a path opened between the guards. Chief Guard Yul'thar, a veteran with rust-colored fur and a scar crossing one of his eyes, walked up and bowed his torso deeply.

"Magistrate," he said, his voice deep and respectful.

Coukisa answered with a small nod. He looked at the ship. It was there, landed in the exact center of the square, on carefully grown grass that now showed burn marks. The design was strange. Basic, but practical. It did not have the smooth curves and polished shine of the Federation ships. It was sharp, tough, built with a logic of efficiency that bordered on brutal. Reentry marks burned its gray hull. It was not big; if Coukisa had to guess, at most ten of his people would fit inside. Maybe less.

"Did they come out yet?" Coukisa asked, his eyes glued to the ship. There was a hatch, a basic metal door, on the side of the vehicle.

"No, Magistrate," Yul'thar answered. "But it looks like they will. A moment ago, we heard noises inside. And some kind of door opened."

As if answering the guard's words, the ship's hatch creaked. A heavy, metallic sound echoed through the square. The crowd held its breath. The guards gripped their batons. Coukisa stood still, his four legs planted on the ground like the roots of an old tree.

"This," Coukisa whispered, more to himself than to the others. "This might be a first contact situation."

He turned to Yul'thar, his voice now firm and commanding. "Chief Guard, start clearing the people out. I want this square empty. If this is what I think it is, it will not be a show for onlookers. It will be a moment that defines the future of our people. And we will not face it with an out-of-control crowd."

Yul'thar bowed again. "Right away, Magistrate." He turned and started barking orders, his guards moving to push the crowd back.

Coukisa turned his eyes back to the ship. The hatch kept opening, slowly, showing only darkness inside. His double heart beat in a steady rhythm. He did not know what would come out of there. But whatever it was, he, Magistrate Coukisa, would be the first to greet it.

---

"This was a terrible idea, Ruben."

Camila's voice cut the pressurized air of the cabin like a knife. She was standing by the diagnostic panel, her gray eyes locked on the outside screens showing the square packed with four-legged shapes. The sensors painted a clear picture of dozens, maybe hundreds of beings out there. They were surrounded.

"You saw the readings," she continued, her voice staying calm, but with an underlying current of urgency. "Buildings, organization, a crowd that gathered in minutes. This is a civilization, Ruben. And civilizations are not necessarily friendly. These beings out there could be hostile. They could see us as a threat, as invaders, as lab rats. We should go back. Take off now, while we have the chance. Reassess from orbit. Make radio contact first, with proper protocols, not walk out like we are in a park."

Ruben was already standing too, checking the locks on his surface suit. He did not stop what he was doing. His movements were calm, careful, the exact opposite of the tension coming from her.

"We have to try, Camila," he said, his voice soft but firm. "We did not come all this way for nothing. We crossed the emptiness between the stars. We were the first. This is not just about the two of us. It is about everything Mars and Earth sacrificed to put this ship in space. If we turned around now, we would be saying that fear won. That distrust won. Again."

He paused, turning to face her. His brown eyes were serious, but there was a spark of belief there. "And another thing, so far, they have not done anything to show they are a threat. They have not pointed weapons. They have not tried to break the ship open. They are just observing. Like we would if an alien ship landed in our central square. They are scared too."

Camila did not answer right away. She knew he was right, at least partly, and that annoyed her deeply. Ruben's logic was always like that, wrapped in layers of stubborn optimism, but solid at its core in some parts....

Ruben reached out, holding her helmet. The visor reflected the cabin's inside light, a mirror surface that briefly showed Camila her own face. "Here. Everything is going to be fine. I promise."

She looked at the helmet. Then at him. She took a deep breath, the air passing through her lungs in a controlled sigh. "You and your promises, I do not understand that thing you pure humans have."

She grabbed the helmet from his hand with a motion that was not rough, but not gentle either. She fit it over her head, feeling the automatic locks click into place. The visor darkened, and suddenly the world had a slight blue tint.

Ruben smiled. She could no longer see his lips, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke through the internal comms. "That is how I like it. Grumbling, but obeying."

"I do not obey, Ruben. I agree under protest."

"Protest noted."

He put on his own helmet. The visor darkened, hiding his features, but his voice sounded crystal clear on the communication channel. "Think about it, Camila. This could be a milestone for humanity. The day we stop being an isolated species. The day we find out we are not alone. And the two of us, a Martian and an Earther, will be the main characters of this moment. Isn't that poetic?"

"I hope you are right," Camila said simply. "Because if you are wrong, there will be no poems. There will only be an interstellar tombstone."

She started the opening cycle of the airlock.

---

Outside, Magistrate Coukisa smelled it before he saw anything. The inside of the ship gave off a strange smell, a mix of heated metals and organic compounds that matched nothing in his scent memory. The fully open hatch now showed the outline of two shapes moving in the dark inside.

Then they came out.

For a moment, Coukisa's brain simply refused to process what his four eyes were seeing. The creatures were bipeds. Completely, without a doubt, bipeds. They stood on two legs, a setup he had only seen in the young of his own species when they tried to reach fruit on high branches, before learning that four-legged balance was the natural stance. But these creatures were not playing. They were walking. They balanced themselves with a natural ease that suggested millions of years of evolution in that posture.

There were two of them. Their bodies were wrapped in suits that hid almost everything, but the shape was clear: a long torso held straight up, from which two arms hung down. Two legs. No visible tail. No other support structure. Just two feet planted on the ground.

And they were small. So small. Coukisa's species, the Mukens, had always been considered tall compared to other known smart species. The Federation reports spoke of short reptilian beings, medium-sized amphibians, and even a race of thinking bugs that barely reached the knee of an adult Muken. But those bipeds? They only reached a little below Coukisa's neck. Their helmets shined in the sun, and through the visors, he caught a glimpse of what looked like faces. Two eyes each, placed in the front, like those of a hunter. Or like those of his own species, he thought.

The crowd behind the guard line murmured in unison. The sound was a shockwave of surprise.

Chief Guard Yul'thar walked up to Coukisa again, his four-eyed look a mix of alert and confusion. "Magistrate," he whispered, his deep voice barely held back. "What should we do? They are coming out. They are staring at us."

Coukisa stood still. His front arms were crossed over his chest, a move that in Mukens meant self-control. His eyes did not turn away from the two creatures.

"Nothing," he said, his voice as calm as the surface of a lake at dawn. "Nothing for now."

He watched. The bipeds had stopped a few feet from the hatch. One of them, the one that looked slightly taller and wider, turned its head toward Coukisa. The visor reflected the sunlight, but Coukisa felt that those eyes had found him. A primal feeling ran down his spine. It was not fear. It was recognition. There was another being there who was also watching, also deciding.

The life support system hummed at an almost hypnotic frequency, a constant contrast to the deep silence that wrapped around the small ship, the Pax. It wasn't an empty silence, but an absolute one, the total lack of feeling that came with being inside a warp bubble. Outside, the universe didn't exist as a concept; reality was a tunnel of pure, twisted white light flowing around the hull like a forgotten river.

Ruben broke the silence, his voice filling the cramped cabin. He leaned back in his padded seat, his brown eyes fixed not on the control panels, but on his crewmate.

"I know the technical part is impressive, the sensors buzzing, the new smell of metal and ozone from the engine," he gestured with one hand, a badly hidden smile playing on his lips, "but ignore the stats for a second. Stop and feel the moment. Out there, reality is literally being rewritten. And you're right in the middle of it. Tell me, Camila, you're a paragraph in the history books now. How does it feel to be the first woman to crew a working ship with the first FTL engine in history? No textbook answers, please."

Camila kept her eyes fixed on the console in front of her, her fingers dancing over a diagnostic screen that didn't need attention. She was a statue of efficiency, her dark hair pulled back in a bun as tight as her posture. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft click of a pressure valve.

"I don't feel much," she finally said, her voice flat and smooth, like the surface of a frozen lake. She paused, thinking, as if choosing her words was an exercise in surgical precision. "The feeling of the jump itself... was like drinking for the first time."

Ruben tilted his head, his smile growing. The answer caught him off guard. He had expected a speech about duty, scientific progress, or legacy. "Drinking? You mean... alcohol? Whiskey, vodka, something like that?"

"Something like that," Camila confirmed, still not looking away from the screen. "That sudden moment of transition. The world you know dissolves and is replaced by something completely new. There's a burning, not in the stomach, but behind the eyes. A numbness in the fingertips. A universal weirdness that tells you nothing will be exactly like it was a second ago."

"And did you like it?" Ruben pushed, genuinely curious. He leaned forward, the leather of his seat creaking under his weight. "That first cosmic shot?"

"I was indifferent," she answered, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were a stormy gray, calm but impossibly deep. "It was just a sensory input. A side effect of dimensional acceleration. Liking it or not is an emotional luxury I can't afford during a critical flight phase. The important thing is that it was bearable and the warp field stayed stable."

Ruben let out a short laugh, a warm sound that seemed to momentarily heat the cold, recycled air of the cabin. "Amazing. You have a unique way of sucking all the poetry out of a historical moment and turning it into a checklist. It's kind of ironic, don't you think? You picking me as your mission partner. The pragmatist and the loudmouth, because I definitely consider myself one."

"There's no irony at all," Camila replied, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "The choice was based on objective parameters. I don't need a poetic partner. I need an experienced one."

She paused, as if pulling up a mental file. "You were a key pilot on Mars. Specifically defending Tharsis-4 Station. You led a squad of three old interceptors and managed to take out two frigates from Earth's attack force using only the gravity of the moon Phobos as a slingshot. A half-second miscalculation and you would've been space dust."

Ruben looked away, the unexpected memory wiping the smile off his face. He rubbed the palm of his hand on the panel in front of him, wiping away invisible dust. "That was five years ago, Camila. Another life. I was younger, dumber, and had a lot less to lose."

"That was exactly what saved Mars's independence," Camila continued, her voice growing more intense. "It wasn't a final victory in the war, it was a decisive resistance. Earth's forces miscalculated. They expected a quick surrender. Your defense, and the defense of others like you, denied them that quick win. It forced Earth to negotiate, not out of goodwill, but because the cost of taking over became politically impossible without a huge victory to back it up. They didn't get their final win. They got a mess. And you were one of the anchors holding that mess together. And now..."

She paused, and the hum of the life support seemed to get louder in the silence.

"Now, five years later, here we are. A Martian and an Earther. Together, in this interstellar tin can, about to be the first people to step foot on a planet in another system. To prove that both people can live together again. Not as a colony and a capital, but as one. That is the real mission, Ruben. More important than the engine, more important than our destination, maybe. We are the proof of concept."

Ruben stared at her, a new look on his face. It wasn't his easy smile anymore, but something closer to respect and a playful fondness. "Wow. Camila. Where did that come from? Why are you so poetic all of a sudden? You, who found breaking through the fabric of space-time 'indifferent,' are giving a speech about the union of people."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I think the FTL jump scrambled your brain."

Camila held his gaze for a moment, and the corner of her mouth might have twitched into a half-smile, a ghost of an expression that vanished before it could stay. "Looks like we're here," she said simply, turning back to the main console.

As if summoned by her words, the ship's soft, synthetic AI voice filled the cabin. "Attention. Warp exit sequence started. Reentering standard space-time in ten seconds."

The pure white light flooding the cabin started to pulse. Ruben adjusted himself in his seat, his body shifting into professional mode in an instant. He pulled the five-point harness, buckling it tightly across his chest. Adrenaline, an old friend, welcomed itself back into his veins.

"Well, partner," he said, his voice firm now, without his usual joking tone. He looked at her, her profile outlined against the pulsing glow of the viewing window. "Ready for the second shot? They say reality hits a lot harder."

Camila didn't answer with words. She just nodded, a single, firm, and perfectly controlled motion. Her fingers hovered over the stabilization controls, ready for the dance. The light pulsed faster. Three seconds. Two. One.

The tunnel of light collapsed. The Pax was spit back out into the real universe. The silence of the warp was replaced by the quiet, crushing impact of existence. The stars, billions of them, exploded in the viewing window like shards of ice. And right ahead, taking up half the screen, was the planet: a deep, hypnotic blue, wrapped in veils of white clouds, hanging majestically against the endless background.

The silence of orbit was absolute. Out there, against the star-speckled darkness, hung the planet. At first glance, anyone would mistake it for Earth. Deep, bright blue oceans covered most of its surface, while green and brown continents spread out like careless brushstrokes. Big white clouds swirled over the poles, promising complex weather systems. But there was one detail that crushed any illusion of familiarity: a huge, majestic ring system, like a frozen rainbow of silver, ice, and ochre, circled the planet's equator. The bits of ice and rock caught the light of the distant star, creating a halo that looked like a cosmic jewel resting delicately on the void.

Ruben sat frozen, the air caught in his lungs. "It's beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe. "Just perfect. Look at it, Camila. A ring. A damn ring. Like someone took Earth and put a wedding band on it."

Beside him, Camila was silent. But it wasn't her usual professional silence. For a brief second, her jaw relaxed. Her lips parted slightly. Her gray eyes, always so controlled and analytical, lost focus, as if the image was too big to be processed by her mental algorithms. It was a tiny glitch, a one-second crack in her armor of logic.

It lasted exactly one second. But Ruben saw it.

He turned to look at her, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. "So you do get impressed sometimes, huh?" he said, his tone carrying a gentle victory. "The machine has a heart, after all."

Camila blinked. The mask slipped back into place instantly. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes got their clinical shine back. "I was just observing," she said, her voice as flat as an autopsy table. "Cataloging cloud formations and possible turbulence zones for reentry. Just protocol."

Ruben threw his hands up in surrender, but the smile didn't fade. "Sure, sure. Cataloging. With your mouth open and everything. Must be a new atmospheric analysis technique. Visually swallowing the air. Don't worry, I'll pretend to believe you."

He shifted in his seat, his eyes still shining with the discovery, and spoke to the main console. "Computer, start pre-landing sequence. Atmospheric reentry path. And give me the full specs on the energy shields and gravity drive. I don't want any surprises when we start scraping the sky of this planet."

The AI's synthetic voice answered right away, filling the cabin. "Understood. Calculating the best reentry path based on current atmospheric data. Energy shield parameters: capacity at one hundred percent, frequency modulation stable, heat sinks working. Gravity drive: calibration finished, drag compensation ready, field integrity at ninety-nine point seven percent. All systems are within normal ranges for atmospheric reentry. Approved."

Ruben nodded, his fingers moving over the controls with the ease of someone who had done this dance countless times. "Good. Very good." He looked at Camila, his brown eyes shining with an energy that went beyond professionalism. "So this is it. We made it. Two people who were killing each other half a decade ago, together in this tin can. And now we have a planet to explore."

He started to turn back to the controls, but Camila's voice cut him off like a cold blade.

"Wait."

Her tone was different. It wasn't her flat cataloging voice. It was the tone she used when something was wrong. Her fingers flew across the diagnostic screen at a speed that bordered on controlled panic. "I'm getting readings."

Ruben stopped. "What is it?"

"Readings," she repeated, narrowing her eyes as the data rolled in. "These aren't just the biosignatures we expected. It's more than chlorophyll and simple ecosystems." She paused, zooming in on a spectrogram. Her voice, when she spoke, had a hint of something Ruben had never heard from her before: disbelief. "They are signs of complex life. And... a technosignature. Weak, scattered, but unmistakable. Low-frequency radio emissions. Leftover heat from industrial processes. Someone is here. Or was, very recently."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick as lead. The beauty of the ringed planet outside suddenly felt less like an invitation and more like a warning.

"Holy shit..." Ruben whispered, the words slipping out like an unholy prayer. He ran a hand through his short hair, his eyes glued to the screen now showing peaks and valleys of data that changed everything. "That changes things a bit. Actually, it changes things a lot."

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. "But we still need to land. The mission hasn't changed. We knew this was a slim possibility. We just didn't expect it to be so... real."

Camila turned to him, and for the first time, there was something besides logic in her eyes. There was worry. "You don't understand. If there are people, if they are a civilization, our arrival could be taken the wrong way. An unknown ship, entering their atmosphere, warp tech they might have never seen. If they're hostile, we could trigger an interstellar incident before we even touch the ground. Or worse."

Ruben stared at her. He saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers were slightly curled, as if ready for a fight. He knew what she was. He'd known since their first day of training. Camila wasn't just an Earther. She was a clone, grown in a biogenesis tank, designed to be the perfect crewmate: loyal, capable, disposable. She knew Earth saw her as a tool. She knew many Martians would see her as an abomination. She didn't have a people. She didn't belong anywhere.

"No," he said softly, his voice dropping all jokes. "You don't need to be afraid. Look at me."

She did, her gray eyes meeting his.

"I know what you are," Ruben continued. "I know you're a clone. I know they made you in a vat, gave you implanted memories, and told you that you were just a spare part for humanity. But here, on this ship, you aren't a tool. You're my partner. And even if your DNA was made in a lab, you can trust me. I won't let you down."

Camila stood perfectly still. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, her voice came out, a barely audible whisper. "Trusting is something I've always done. I was programmed for it. To trust. To obey. To follow the human next to me."

"No," Ruben said. "That isn't obedience. That's a choice. And I don't want a meat robot by my side. I want you."

He laughed, a low, warm sound that cut the tension like a knife. "By the way, you know what else? One day, when all this is over, I want to take you out to dinner. A real dinner. Food that doesn't come from a tube. A table that doesn't have seatbelts. Maybe even candles, if you don't think that's too primitive."

Camila frowned, confusion briefly replacing her worry. "What do you mean by dinner?"

Ruben just smiled, that wide, irresistible smile that had already disarmed generals and charmed crowds back on Mars. "One day I'll show you. It'll be a new experience. Better than drinking, I promise."

Before she could answer, the AI interrupted. "Reentry path calculated. Starting landing sequence."

The ship shook gently. The gravity drive roared in silence, creating a distortion field that began to push the Pax out of orbit. Outside, the planet's silver ring began to pull away, and the blue and green curve grew, swallowing their field of view.

Reentry started as a whisper, a soft brush against the first layers of the atmosphere. The thin, cold air began to flow around the hull. Then, the friction increased. The energy shields flickered, forming a cocoon of golden and orange plasma around the ship. Friction flames licked the windows, turning the outside into an inferno of light. The cabin vibrated, a deep and steady shake. The sound was a muffled roar, like a dragon breathing on the other side of a steel wall.

Through the glowing light, the planet revealed itself. The clouds got closer, white and gray masses that swallowed the ship for a moment. Turbulence shook the Pax, but the gravity drive balanced every bump with a precise counter-force, keeping the path steady. The plasma light faded. The sky, which had been black, turned a deep blue. And then, they broke through the cloud layer.

Down below, a continent stretched all the way to the horizon. Lush green forests covered rolling hills. A silver river wound through the valley like a vein of mercury. And further north, where the hills gave way to a coastal plain, there were structures. Lines that were too straight to be natural. Metallic glints reflecting the sunlight.

Então, é basicamente o que esta no título.

Eu tive um namoro de 4 anos e durante esse tempo, não transei por motivos religiosos (me arrependo)

Hj em dia aos 23 anos e agora com 5 meses depois de ter terminado decide sair com uma garota, isso foi no dia primeiro de maio.

Eu larguei a religião q eu estava a 2 meses e decidi conhecer novas pessoas, veio essa garota, 4 anos mais velha, muito amorosa e simpática, conversamos por umas 2 semanas e no primeiro encontro ela sugeriu motel, bom fomos.

Mas ja começou a dar tudo errado, eu não soube fazer o que as pessoas chamam de preliminares, mas ela parecia ter ficado molhada, mas quando chegou a hora de realizar o ato, simplesmente não consegui colocar, não sabia como e não estava entrando, passei vergonha, brochei e ficou um climao.

Eu penso agora que eu deveria ter explicado minha situação para ela, depois disso ela disse que poderíamos ser amigos apenas, foi muito educada acima de tudo.

Porém, mesmo assim, isso me deu uma insegurança.

Eu e minha ex conversamos de vez em quando, a gente se tornou amigos, não sinto muita coisa por ela mais, então consigo conversar com ela de boa, chegamos nesse assunto sobre sexo, descobri que ela também saiu da religião que estávamos, entrou em uma faculdade, república e que esta saindo com um cara e que estão transando.

Por algum motivo isso me deixou ainda mais para baixo.

Assim, eu sei que isso é ridículo, eu nunca fui de ver porno, não sabia de várias coisas, mas sei la sabe, eu pensei que seria algo natural. Mas, enfim é isso.

Obrigado por lerem até aqui

Bom, nunca postei por aqui kkkk mas vamos lá né.

Sou um jovem de 23 anos, faço faculdade e trabalho.

Eu tinha um relacionamento que iria completar 4 anos esse ano, foi minha primeira namorada, boa parte do relacionamento foi perfeito para mim e acredito que para ela também.

O motivo do término não foi traição nem nada do tipo, eu sinto que ela ainda me amava quando decidiu terminar. Terminamos pois ela passou em uma universidade que queria depois de 2 anos tentando, eu sempre dei apoio e ajudei ela, fiquei feliz quando ela conseguiu passar. Agora ela tá estudando em um lugar bem longe de onde eu moro, praticamente umas 15 horas de carro.

Por conta disso, ela decidiu terminar, eu tentei protestar e dar soluções mas ela sempre foi meio teimosa e decidia muita coisa sem mim, eu não julgo muito pois é o jeito dela, porém isso me deixou bem abalado, mas compreendi oq ela quis dizer, um relacionamento a distância talvez não seria bom para mim e para ela.

Eu amava ela muito, muito mesmo e queria casar com ela. A duas semanas fiz a maior burrice da minha vida e fui olhar o perfil dela no Instagram, só para ver como ela tá e estava namorando um menino da faculdade. Bom, não sei explicar o que senti kkkk mas desde o término eu até pensei em sair com outras garotas, viver a vida e tals, porém acabei não conseguindo no início.

Mas agora vendo que ela tá seguindo em frente e que ela está realmente bem e feliz, eu penso que eu deveria seguir em frente de verdade. Conhecer alguém novo.

Mas eu não sei como fazer isso kkkk confesso que baixar um app de relacionamento e não deu em nada kkkk não sei como essas coisas funcionam, acabei me frustando do que encontrando alguém para conversar pelo menos kkkkk

Meus amigos da faculdade também são iguais eu kkkk um deles já namora e os outros nunca namoraram pois são o esteriótipos de nerd kkkkk não que isso seja ruim kkkk mas eles não saem para conhecer pessoas novas e essas coisas e eu nunca precisei KKK eu pensei que meu relacionamento iria ser para sempre kkkk

Bom, agora eu estou aqui, sei que é clichê e parece que estou desesperado em encontrar alguém kkkkk não estou, só estou pensando que seria legal caso encontre kkkk mas confesso que não sei como fazer isso kkkkk

É apenas um desabafo, alguém já passou por isso também ou está passando? Como fizeram para iniciar um novo relacionamento? Conhecer pessoas novas??

Bom, resumindo, eu estava no ponto de ônibus esperando minha irmã pois eu e ela iriamos juntos no poupa tempo da minha cidade.

Porém no ponto antes da minha irmã chegar eu percebi que uma garota que eu estava observando a algumas semanas tava lá, eu não vejo essa garota todo dia, só quando tenho sorte.

Eu confesso que não tenho muita coragem de chegar nela. Então quando peguei o ônibus com minha irmã e deixei essa garota no ponto para trás, eu comentei com minha irmã sobre essa garota e que eu estava pensando em puxar assunto com ela, eu queria um conselho ou algo assim né

Mas tudo que recebi foi que eu não deveria chegar em uma desconhecida pois seria estranho e nenhuma mulher gosta disso, tudo bem eu entendo, mas se eu percebesse que a garota não quer conversar ou manter contato eu não iria insistir. Porém dps de ouvir isso me senti muito desmotivado kkkk como vou conhecer alguém se segundo minha irmã nenhuma garota gosta de ser abordada?

Assim, eu não sou um desses caras estranhos que vcs sabem muito bem como são kkkk eu só queria conversar, mas perdi completamente a motivação KKKk

Bom, é um relato besta eu sei, bom kkkk as coisas na minha vida as vezes são muito fúteis mesmo