Anon and me on the cat planet From my own memories, the unknown trader Maraza were known for being vain and prideful but this was beyond all measure. Any other species would have been embarrassed by a mural depicting their soldiers standing on top of an entire hill of alien corpses. The Maraza, however, had decided that this was apparently so common sense that building it at the entrance of the largest spaceport on their planet was fitting. Anons eyes were drawn to the depiction of the claw weapon the male cat wore on his muscular forearm, currently decapitating an insect being, and sneered. I had seen this look on his face a few times already, but so far he had reserved it for TV and matrix broadcasts about human supremacists. Anon had always been strict in his political beliefs and now that he was confronted about the deep-rooted Xenophobia in other races. I could only assume which thoughts were running through his mind, the clash of his believes with the reality. Careful not to draw too much attention I moved closer and whispered into his ear. “Relax Anon, this is just Maraza customs and I am sure there is a reason why”. He interrupted me quickly. “What kind of garbage is this? Do you see that weapon? Close combat against the Zumio? Those things have corrosive blood so I assume that that fucker has been melted into a green puddle after that kill. I mean the human military just shot them by sniper fire so I have no idea why anyone who is not retarded would come close and, oh, hello officer. Is anything wrong?” He managed it again, not even 5 minutes on the planet and Anon has attracted the attention of the Maraza security. Mocking the proud warrior race on their home turf and in earshot of their police force? Wonderful. For a moment I pondered if I should just keep on walking, ignore the stupid human being and be happy that someone has fulfilled the daily police brutality quota. The other passengers, multiple species all around with us as the only humans, seemed to do so as well, quickly walking past. “Well, I and my friend here have just arrived and been talking about this stupid picture there” I sighed before a stun button was crashed into my stomach, sending me down while Anon started to screech about police brutality. _____ We, that is Anon and me, have known each other for years now. Starting in college I was looking for a friend when I stumbled over the guy, hanging posters on the walls of the hallway. He quickly tried to recruit me into his alien social justice program and I accepted. Getting club credit while getting a good standing at the Xeno hotties sounded like a great plan. Once the posters had been up and the janitor had dragged both of us to the dean I learned that not only did Anon not have a permission to do so, but that he had been thrown out of the Xeno club for trying to hit up every girl. At once. The first day of college and I had a vandalism charge (Anon had bought industry strength glue for the posters) and 200 hours of public work. 200 hours I spent with Anon, working to beautify the school. We grew close during that time, even if our friendship did not start all that good. Luckily both of us had similar interests, anime, video games and such. I did not have that many plans at all, so 200 hours of working while talking with my new friend sounded like a pretty good deal. I learned a valuable lesson that day, however. Never trust Anon without checking yourself. In fact, maybe do not trust anyone without checking yourself is probably a good lesson for everyone. _____ The metal bed inside of the holding cell was hard and cold, maybe even deliberate so. The Marazan planet was pretty warm, many desserts and mesas. Still, I was shivering in the cell, metal bars allowed me a good view into the hallway and the other cells. They were all empty, except for the one directly opposite of mine. Anon was sitting inside of it, nursing a black eye. “Hey, wake up, please. We are in trouble here. We have to call the embassy and get this sorted out, this is a large misunderstanding.” With a groan I sat up and clutched my belly, the stomach punch brought me right to the ground. My first contact with Marazan security and I lasted all off 1 second. Hopefully, this would not be a sign for the rest of the journey. One of the guards, a Marazan girl in a red and gold uniform walked along the hallway, giving us both dirty looks. She turns to Anon. “Name?” “Anon Mynos.” “And you?” “Me?” She scribbled down the names. “Anon and Me. You are both found guilty of insulting the great Marazan war hero Cherrray. For that, you are sentenced to death.” Her face was a mask of indifference towards us, less like bringing bad news and more like declaring that the fridge needs cleaning. She waited for a few moments while I could feel how my face went white. “Since you are both nonmaraz however the sentence has been turned into public service to the Marazan. Go on your ways, we will call you”. She threw our IDs into our cells, together with the contract that details our 400 hours of public service, a better term would be slavery before she opened the door. “Get lost furless scum”. --- By this time any reader is probably wondering why anyone would even think about visiting the Marazan. The fact that they are unliked by anyone was actually the reason Me and Anon were there. Despite their assertion that they do not need anything from off their world and even if they did it would be worlds below their own work, the Marazan planet is still a trade partner. It is just much cheaper to extract metal from a volcanic planet than to mine it, especially if you want to preserve your environment. We had been sent down there to racist cat hell as ambassadors and lobbyists to the businesses, serving as a personal contact between the human corporations and the Marazan ones. 8 years of Xeno studies were a requirement for this job. The pay is great. And yet nobody wanted it. Now you know why. --- The address we have been given is (of course) in the seediest slum available. On the way we had to cross a large fence, separating the Xeno district from the pure Marazan one. Large signs declare that any Xeno (as in not Marazan) will be punished harshly if they are found without legal papers and a purpose permit. The words are also read out loud and broadcast over a loudspeaker, maybe because the Marazan think Xenos are unable to read. I handed my papers over to the fence guard and waited for the stamp before shoving Anon forwards to do the same. He is still a bit perplexed about where we are going, I am sure he has not actually read the information pamphlet. I sighed as the guard stamped Anons papers and opens the door, allowing us through. Dirt and garbage were everywhere, chemical fumes from the large spaceship fuel refinery were pumped into the area, the sunlight was greener than usual as it shines through. I could see the eyes that follow us through the windows, some broken, both the eyes and the glass. I sighed while starting to walk towards the address, thinking about the money that was flowing on to my bank account at the moment. Just 6 months of work sounded like a good deal, back at Earth. Our residency was on the second floor, directly above a small supermarket which was curiously staffed by Marazan. At the entrance, I could see a clan symbol, a blue paw, reaching down. It surprised me a bit to see this, most Marazan clans were more militaristic, showing teeth, claws and weapons. This was either a sign of peacefulness or more appropriate, a humiliation, bestowed on them by a superior clan. Maraza were known for having their own interspecies trade style, which consisted of a female only gathering. This trading style was very well guarded, nobody knew what happened behind closed doors. These trade gatherings were a common happening between the clans, often multiple ones were called in short succession. I gathered that much from the information in the pamphlet and the broadcasts on the Marazan planet. “Today Clan Skall as taken over the trade lines 237 and 108 of what based bakeries from Clan Krett, resulting in a challenge over the fertilizer recipe issued from Clan Skall towards...”. The winners were honored, the losers shamed. One of the phrases seemed weird to me. “Lost her face”. I had no idea what that meant but it was repeated many times. Part 2 Imagine my surprise dear reader when we stumbled on this shop, surrounded by some of the most down rotten building ever called liveable. The Marazan, fencing off the Xenos that had the audacity to step into their planet least one of them had to step on a piece of ground that had been ruined by those noncats, had a shop right in the ghetto. A quick look inside revealed that it was stocked with Xeno products, even some from earth. Skin care and shaving cream, Telemeran feeler combs and replacement gas canisters for the Nitrogen breathing Sertyrgly. I had not seen a single Xeno specific import shop in the entire city so far, not even at the spaceport. This clan was either Xeno friendly or really desperate. ___ A quick reminder of how the Marazan clan system works. The cat-like people of this desert world are nomadic at heart, always looking to either find a better place for them or someone weaker to rob. Cooperation has always been seen as cowardly but surrendering to integrate into the stronger clan even more so. This quickly created a system of eternal conquest, each tribe isolating each other while looking for a weaker one to extort. With space on the planet being finite and genetic retardation running rampant the Marazan soon found themselves in a globe wide pyramid scheme. Historians are unsure when this stalemate was broken but genetic evidence suggests that it happened around 2300 years ago. At that time two of the smaller clans mixed with each other, possibly out of desperation. Free from genetic pressure and able to support each other this clan quickly rose through the ranks, starting a new trend on Marazan society. In an effort to combat the stalemates and at the same time mix the clans the practice of the roundtable was created. So far nobody not from the Marazan has been able to find out what exactly this ritual is. And I am proud to say that I am the first human who has. More about this later. Today the clans are still orientated in the old pyramid scheme, with lower clans working in labor jobs. The higher the clan status the more artistic and managing their daily life gets. The highest clan is able to spend their days relaxing, as the payments of the lower clans support them. Trading and arguments between the clans are settled at the roundtable, with the losing clan often “losing face". A common way these payments are handled is by giving a “higher” clan a percentage of the “lower” clans work. However, these payments do not have to be made in money. Let me give you an example. Clan A, that is heavily invested in oil and refinery, one day decides that they should enhance their diet and start to extort Clan B, which is running the fields. After settling a payment through a roundtable Clan B sends 10% of their harvest to Clan A. Clan B afterward seeks a way to make up this loss and starts a roundtable agreement with Clan C, which is running the transport systems. They extort a payment and from now on Clan C reserves 10% of their seats for the workers of Clan B so they do not have to pay any more. Clan C now uses their monopoly on the train system to extort a payment from Clan A, who from now on send them roughly 10% of their fuel for free. All three clans are meanwhile paying to Clan D, which members use their free time to relax. Clans that deal in the art might spend 10% of their time on creating a statue of a higher clan for free, farmers might reserve 10% of their fields for a private garden the higher clan can take care of and so on. It might seem like the clan you are born into prevents you from pursuing a certain higher career but this is not necessarily true. Lower clans are not necessarily poor but they have to work a lot more than others. A clan that is dependent to send a lot on their work to others for free cannot spend the time to send their kids into other careers. Getting a doctorate in medicine would result in roughly 12 years of productivity lost, something many clans cannot afford. Being rich as a Marazan does not mean that you have lots of money. It means that you do not even need it because everything is done for you. The way the system can still support each other is by the roundtable, which is often shaking things up. The changes are small each time but even the smallest scratch can bleed the prey dry, as the Marazan say. ____ I send Anon away to check our new home and decided to check out the shop since it would be our go to market for the next months. If we were going to have to deal with them every day for earth products might as well try to make a good first impression. The doorbell chimed a happy tune as I stepped through the doors and looked around. To my five large baskets with clothing had been stacked close to the graffiti smeared front window. Looking at them revealed that they were organized for different body types, bipedal, tauren and such. The right was the checkout, a single computer with a Marazan woman behind it. She was old, her fur already white and a walking stick next to her soft chair. Behind her was an entire wall filled with magazines, both real paper, and electronic chip form. There were sweets for every species, some with the warning labels still attached, and consumption articles of every color. Soft drinks, ready to eat meals, toilet paper, and processed meat. I honestly was surprised about all the selection. So far my belief about the way Maraza handled with Xenos was “Get used to our way or piss off”. Of course with fewer words and more degrading looks. I made my way into the shop, looking around for human articles while debating whether or not I should greet the older cat. She herself looked at me with a sad look and I was somehow shocked. I had not seen a Marazan displaying any kind of emotion so far, not even the guards that shocked me at the spaceport. They always were completely emotionless, like wearing a mask. But this old cat clearly showed emotion. Behind her were multiple pictures, showing kitties, maybe her grandchildren, together with decorations. Sometimes the Marazan decoration reminded me of a mixture between the earth cultures of Japan and India. Lots of colors, ribbons and golden metal. I waved her and she lifted one paw, waving back. My way brought me into the human aisle of the supermarket, past instant noodles and snacks. I was about to step into the second part when I slipped on something, cashing down to the ground. Slimy and sticky glue like goo on the ground caused my fall and while sailing down past chicken flavoured Ramen I could see that there was the Telemeran aisle next. Looked like one of the snail like Xenos had left its trail here. “Oh no, are you ok ?” My view was still cluttered with stars but I could see the Marazan girl clearly. She was snow white, wearing a red and golden robe. She could have looked like a high clan actress were it not for the glue covered mob in her hand. “Oh no no no, I am sorry. I was not able to clean fast enough and now you’re hurt, I’m so sorry”. She hurried over to me, trying to lift me off the ground. “Please tell me you’re fine”. I was stunned. After a few minutes of first aid I was able to stand again. My shock about the helpfulness of a Marazan girl was enough to silence any complaints I would normally have about a slime trail through the entire shop. The girl introduced herself as Chana and seemed to feel really bad about the whole thing, based on her facial expressions and body language. She displayed more emotion in ten seconds than I had seen from all cats here so far combined. The elderly woman soon came to the mix as well. “Please excuse my daughter, she can not keep her face”. Her formerly sad face was replaced by a mask of indifference and Chana blushed before quickly pulling a real mask from her dress. Her worried face vanished behind a steel mask. ____ The face as the Marazan call it is the embodiment of their sincere believe to be better than any other species and even than other Marazan. As I soon learned from the older woman during my stay in a small back room of the shop, where I was allowed to prepare a package of instant noodles for a small discount of 60%, each Marazan has what is called a emotional hole. Listening to her story I connected it to my own research about the Marazan I had conducted before my trip. I had heard about the ability of their soldiers to ignore pain and wounds, ignore fear and anger while marching forward. But I had always thought about this as some kind of propaganda. As it turned out the stories are real. Marazana are able to suppress any kind of emotion or feeling by filling a psychical hole, which only start to show itself when it is close to flowing over. Pain and such can simple be ignored, unless the damage is to big. The act of revealing the repressed feeling is referred to as “Losing your face” and is a huge shame for the clan. While slurping my noodles the elderly woman told me the story of her clan, the softpaws, traders and medics. And I could see what she meant with losing her face. At first she was stoic, a cold and heartless historian as the talked about the great past of her clan but soon her eyes were filled with tears. By the last sentence she was sobbing, louder than I thought possible. “And then that girl just..just had to get herself railed over the table and lost all our ships. Fucked her brains out that day and we had to send our medics away to the aid of Clan Redtooth”. Wait what ? Part 3 Once again I found myself surprised by the cats, the second time in only half an hour. Sexuality between the Marazan was of course a given and I was sure they had slurs about it. What shocked me however was the age of the person sharing it with me and her sudden outburst. The noodles fell back into my cup as I stared at her. “What ? Oh, yes I forgot. Xenos do not know about the roundtable. I have to ask you to forgive me. I lost my face again, please accept a payment to forget my failure and that of my granddaughter”. She offered me various things, a weekly bag of vegetables or instant meals, but I declined. “You, you do not want it ? Not accepting an offered payment is a great insult. I hope you are aware of that”. To my greatest shame I had to admit that I has forgotten that. Remembering that payments could be changed and traded I tried to make up for my failing while not robbing this poor store. The question I asked would shape the rest of my stay on the planet. “Why don't you instead tell me more about the roundtable ? If that is ok that is”. ----- Sexuality had an even bigger influence on the Marazan lifestyle than I had imagined. I had grown up with sex ed, pornography and even a few teenager pregnancies in the neighborhood, but the cats took it to a new level. Chanas grandmother told me more about the most intimate part of Marazan society than had been shared with any Xeno before. Maybe she was old enough to not care anymore, or maybe I had triggered age old resentment against her upper clans. Sex between two Marazan is 4 different ways, each clearly separated from the others. Mixing them up is a sure way to embarrass yourself, or even worse. Khaaba-sha: The dance of the children. This sexual act has only one goal, creating children for the clan. Partners are not required to be together or even know each other. The size of clans and their closeness makes incest a common danger. Partners for this are often decided by the entire clan, taking in account the family tree. There is no love or anything here, just breeding. Children perceived this way are raised by the entire tribe. Khabba-than: The dance of pleasure. The most common way of sexual intercourse, between two or more trusted partners. This is the way that most resembles human pairings. Sex this way can lead to children but there is no need to. Marazan make no difference between genders nor do they count. Two males, three females or all together. There is no difference. Since this dance is the only one in which the partners can fully engage their pleasure with being embarrassed by face loss it creates a close band between each other. Betraying your partners is a great insult and can split clans. The only thing that is looked down upon is engaging in this dance with members of a different clan. Khabba-kasda: The dance of warriors This is the most strange way of sexual intercourse the Maraza practice. The most human way of description would be “Sex training”. A quick flick between two partners, treated like a sparring match. Unlike Khabba-than this is allowed between different clans but there is no pleasure here. Both partners are supposed to bottle their feelings in order to train their talents. Breeding this way is strictly forbidden. Khabba-abbahk: The dance of traders: This was the one that most surprised me. If you dear reader recall, I already told you about the fact of losing face and the broadcast of roundtable challenges. This sexual intercourse is the most hidden and the most important in the clan dealings. A round table is built up in a separate room of the meeting between clans. Around it sit the chosen females of the clans, debating about trade, offerings, borders and everything between. The females barter in a system similar to poker, adding and retreating their offers, trying to get their opponents to make a mistake. There are no cards however. Instead the risk is maintained by the clan males. Each female brings with her one male of her choice. The clans switch males and once the game starts they try to make the females of the other clan climax. Each female that orgasm has lost and is allowed to be breed. In the Marazan view this makes sense, after all the male was better and his seed is therefore improving the other clan. If the male climaxes beforehand he is removed from the gathering and the female he tended to is free of distraction. This sexual combat is the reason why the act of sexual training is so common. Since Marazan females are only fertile when they climax (more about this later) the losing clan often ends up pregnant. This helps in combating the genetic retardation. Children born from this are raised as normal by the tribe. Twins are a sign from the gods and are seen as a calling for the partner. If male the male joins the female tribe, of female the other way. Dizygotic twins are cause for an immediate celebration, both clans join each other and forgive 50% of their payments they get from lower clans. ------ Once the older cat had finished her story about the loos they had suffered in one of these trade dances she stopped. The softpaws clan had bantered to high and once the redtooth warrior turned their chosen female into mewling putty, they had to send their medics into a want to support the warrior clan. Not many had returned, sealing their downfall. Part 4 With a bowl of half eaten and rapidly cooling noodles in front of me I cleared my throat. As interesting as the Marazan love life was the pictures inside of my mind had me both slightly aroused and scared. Being lectured about them from a grandma was especially strange but I would soon learn that Marazan were very open about sexuality. Since sex was a form of combat it was not surprising that many males quickly learnt how to pleasure females and the other way around. I coughed to break the awkward silence and the cat on the other side of the table looked at me. “Oh dear, I am sorry. I was ranting again. Please, tell me about the way humans deal with those topics, I have to say I am interested. Most Marazan do not care about the ways of the Xenos but I am old enough to no longer care about them”. Her eyes focussed on me and I could feel the blood flooding my face as I blushed. The noodles were completely forgotten now while I told her about the, in comparison, easy human love life. She listened for a long time, her ears twitching a few times as I spoke about the family system and marriage. I have forgotten much of what I spoke about but one question she asked me is still imprinted in my mind. “And how long do those mating sessions last ?” My honest answer “From 5 to up to 30 minutes” caused her jaw to drop. I had learned enough about the Marazan face mask system by now that I knew she was really shocked. Then a grin spread over her face. I even told her about the fine me and Anon had to pay and her grin got even wider. The room the Marazan government, or better the tribe responsible for the Xeno quarters, had given us was actually pretty nice. I had learned later that the Xeno ghetto had once been the living quarters of a medium sized tribe until it had fallen in the tribe ranking. As a sign of humiliation their old homes were redesigned. Now Anon and me had about 200 square meters to us, in the 3 level of a larger building. We had our own kitchen, bathroom and even a fur dry room which we soon turned into a makeshift sauna. The main part of the housing however was the gigantic living room, build around an indoor fireplace with multiple large sofas. Anon had already checked the rooms and didn’t find a single thing to eat, so when I walked in with two large bags of fast food and dried noodles he was ecstatic. “Great job, I was just getting hungry”. We both ate silently while watching Marazan television on my PDA. Our living room was also our bedroom, blankets had been in a closet. The nights were as cold as the days were hot, it was a desert and savannah planet after all. I woke up to the sound of something being slipped through the crack under the door and found a small letter. The inside was both calming and worrying. “Good morning. We talked about you and your small problem with the authorities last night so I took it on myself and asked a few members of my tribe for help. Long story short, I purchased your fine and you can now work it off for me. Meet me and my granddaughter this evening. Your friend can stay at home for now, if I need him I will tell him. Greetings, Clan Softpaw” Anon and me did not have that many meetings with Marazan companies in the first few days so all we had to do was waste the time. We decorated our new home, hung up pictures and searched the Marazan internet for a cheap television set. This evening I told Anon that I was going to meet our benefactor. He had of course snatched the letter from my fingers to read it himself so there was no need to lie. Of course I did not tell him about the whole sex thing, no need for that yet. Instead I framed it as my ability to sweet talk the cats into giving us a second job for our fine. “Looks like you got those cats figured out man. Good for us” He gave me finger guns while walking into the bathroom and I left the house. Towards a job that would change my view on the Marazan forever. The feline grandmother, her name was Rezzatra, and her granddaughter Chana with her mask were already waiting for me in front of the shop. “Ah, Anon. Good to see you. Follow me, I am sure you are already eager to know where we are going, right ?” She smiled and purred, which caused a worried question from her granddaughter. “Grandma, are you ok ? You have not purred in years”. She quickly put her off. “Not now child, I am sure we will remember this night for a long time”. Behind us a black car arrived and the doors opened. A third feline stepped out and looked at us. She was older that Chana but not old. I estimated her to be about 30, maybe 35. “Here I am Grandma, now where is that fighter you were” She stopped. “What is that Xeno doing here?” Her face was a mask, only the fur moving a bit as she breathed. “Ah, Kreela. This here is Anon, the guy I told you about”. The new arrivals face derailed immediately. “You, you want to send a Xeno to the roundtable? Are you insane?” Chana gasped and my mind did a somersault. She wanted to send me to the roundtable, the place where the Marazan were fighting through sex. She wanted me to fuck a rival tribe member to make her loose face. On our way towards the trade party the older Marazan explained her plan. The Softpaw clan had been challenged by a rival clan for space on their offworld trade ships and they now had to react. Kreela, the mature cat, had been volunteering as the dancer and Rezzatra had promised to get a fighter, the term for the male that was send into the ring. She had not told the tribe that she had selected a human, a xeno. Non of the other cats could remember that anything like this had ever happened. “They will never accept this, what were you thinking ?” Kreela was close to screaming at the older woman who had the biggest grin I had ever seen. “Simple my dear. If they refuse the human we can simply call them out for it. Or do you truly believe that a Xeno could ever cause a Marazan girl to loose her face? Any member of your species is superior to every other species after all”. There was stunned silence for the rest of the way. Finally we stopped at the entrance of a large tower, looking like it was made out of sandstone. It was illuminated by various spotlights and multiple Tribe flags were scattered across the door. I could even see the symbol of my new clan, the softpaws, smaller than the others and nearly hidden. We dismounted the vehicle and quickly slipped inside. My cover story was simple, I was a exotic servant for the tribe. The softpaws were known for dealing with Xenos which made this story believable. I had next to no time to look at the buffet, the colors and the band playing on strange flutes before the surprisingly strong elderly cat ushered me to a small room where other old cats waited. They were in the process of examining a naked cat man when we walked in. Rezzatra immediately moved him to the side. “Council of elders, we the tribe softpaw, present our fighter for this dance. This Human”. She pointed towards me and for a second there was complete silence. The male glared at me, he was nearly 30 centimeters larger and his six pack was visible through his fur. I did not dare to gaze down his body. Then of the other elders laughed. “Well, strip down human and we will see. A dangerous game your tribe is playing, but it is a welcome change”. To be continued