The amber screen on a nearby office desk flickered, and the orange-tinted face of a human appeared. He was well dressed, with exquisitely sculpted blond hair and a smirk suggesting he had lived an easy life, probably at the expense of someone else. He was a human. That practically went without saying.
``Hello, is this the Council of Interspace Relations?''
``Speaking.'' Drake Stoffle stared into the holographic monitor with small, inset brown eyes. Stoffle was a middle aged ratel, stout with graying fur around his muzzle and the weary look of a Woodlander who put up with a lot of shit in his lifetime. Well over his carrying capacity, actually, and with no room for more.
``Yes. I was calling to start negotiations for the thirty troops captured on your planet. We will meet you and the prisoners at the usual place, in the field forty miles from the capital of Wolveshead. We'll pay the usual penalty fee for violating your territory, and we'll be on our way.''
The ratel cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow. ``I'm afraid that won't be possible.''
The man on the screen looked puzzled, and a little aggrieved. ''...why?''
Drake dropped his chin into a black paw and responded with a cold matter of factness. ``That was the policy of the outgoing council. Due to the rising number of human invaders, in spite of Earth's treaty with Woodland which explicitly states that humans must not approach this planet or its moon, we've had to take more... pro-active measures.''
``I don't understand.''
The ratel explained brusquely. ``We've processed them.''
Beads of sweat formed on the man's head. ``Then take them from wherever you've got them and bring them back to us!''
``You won't want them in the condition they're in. They've been processed for sustenance.''
``S-suh! You've EATEN THEM?!''
``Well, they'll be eaten as soon as the meat's distributed to restaurants throughout the capital. These things take a while. All meat has got to go through the Council of Nutrition for inspection, and then-''
The human's snide confidence was instantly washed away in a flood of shock, and the color drained from his face, appearing almost ghost-white on the monochrome screen. ``YOU MONSTERS!''
Drake rose to his feet with an angry, gutteral growl that steadily rose into a furious roar. ``NOW YOU LISTEN HERE!,'' he stormed as he shot a finger into the screen, poking through the holographic image. ``We are a sovereign planet! Your species is not welcome here, not wanted here, NOT ALLOWED HERE! Yet you keep sneaking scouts and troops past our borders and onto OUR TERRITORY! AGAINST THE TERMS OF THE GODDAMNED TREATY!''
The man stammered. ``But you didn't have to-!''
Drake relaxed slightly as he leaned against the table, his fury simmering to a low boil. ``God only know what the hell you humes plan to do with the intel you've gathered. These encroachments were tolerated in the past, but under the current council, any garbage left on our planet will be claimed as salvage right, and used AS WE SEE FIT!''
The man crushed his teeth together and squinted a hateful stare at Drake. ``You freaks are going to regret what you've done, I swear to God.''
A sly grin crept onto the ratel's face. ``Personally, I think your meat is disgusting, just like you things are when you're alive, but my wife loves the stuff. She'd eat hume every day if she could. Keep sending troops here and she might!''
The man angrily jabbed a button on his console.
SIGNAL LOST.
