The leader of the alien Karn bared his teeth. He raised his talons and dropped them in a swift move, highlighting cell C5 on the spreadsheet.

 

"There, Terran!" he said, glaring at me. "That is the parameter we need to change!"

 

I turned to the other aliens, the Breev delegation. Each one was nine feet tall and wide as two men, solid-faced and leathery-skinned, with two small horns on top. They sat together, showing no emotion. The three of them spoke in sequence, carefully passing the sentence from one to the next.

 

"This is totally — unacceptable to — the Breev," they said.

 

I sighed and closed my eyes against the harsh white lights of this chilly conference room a hundred light-years from Earth.

 

* * *

 

I thought it would be easier than this when I clicked Accept on the job posting. I had been working for the company for three years as a Technical Consultant Level Four and had finished projects in New York, Shenzhen, and Mars Central. Frankly, I'd paid my dues, and now I was looking for the payoff. The expat package was great; a few weeks on this planet would earn me a year's salary, and housing and food were company-paid.

User Research had sent some notes on how the Karn and Breev had some sort of symbiotic relationship, but I didn't bother with them. I dealt with numbers, and they were the same everywhere, whether it was Planet KarnBreev or Kalamazoo. Every technologically advanced species ends up developing spreadsheets, and every one ends up hating them.

 

"Let's take a look at the sensitivity analysis," I said. I tapped a few buttons and brought up a graph with two oscillating curves, one for the Karn and one for the Breev. I altered parameter C5, and the lines changed shape. Increasing C5 favored the Karn, decreasing it helped the Breev. But there was a limit: too far in either direction and both collapsed. Symbiosis, I guessed.

 

"The Lotka — Volterra — projections," the three Breev rumbled.

 

I didn't know what those were, but I didn't really care. We were going round in circles.

 

"Can't we just pick a value and move forward?" I asked. "Does it matter that much?"

 

The Karn and Breev were quiet. Then the Karn leader spoke. "It matters more than anything, Terran. We have our disagreements with the Breev, but they fully understand the importance of getting this right."

 

"The Karn — speaks — correctly," the Breev said.

 

I took my glasses off and closed my eyes for a second. "It has been a long morning," I said. "How about we break for lunch?"

 

The Karn leader raised his claw to show agreement, and the Breev slowly nodded in sequence.

 

"We shall — feed — together, human."

 

* * *

 

I sat down to eat with the Breev. They had huge piles of food, mostly compacted plant matter. Two of them drizzled it with a syrup of the consistency and color of molasses, one with a light blue liquid. The room was warm with soft pink lighting and smelled like a fresh-cut lawn. I had a ham and lettuce sandwich with some yogurt — Standard Meal 12D from the company.

 

"So, what are you having for lunch?" I asked.

 

"It is varied, but — the base is klard. Akin to your Earth grass. We would offer, but — humans can not — digest it," the Breev said.

 

"And what do the Karn eat?" I asked idly.

 

The Breev fell silent and looked at me. Well, at least, they turned their heads in my direction. Their eyes seemed to be focused in the distance. Nobody said anything for twenty seconds.

 

"Your pronoun — is wrong. It is not what — they eat — but who."

 

"You can't mean—!" I said.

 

"Yes. The old — the sick — the weak. The Karn — eat — us."

 

I ran to the bathroom to throw up.

 

* * *

 

"We need each other. If they eat too much, then we die and they die."

 

"If they eat too little, then we grow too much, then we die and they die."

 

"In the middle is the balance," the third Breev concluded.

 

"Parameter C5?" I asked.

 

"The parameter — of interaction — or predation."

 

"But how can you sit down with them so calmly?"

 

"There is — no alternative. It is this — or chaos."

 

I looked down at my water glass and said nothing for a while.

 

"Lunchtime — is over. We shall return — to work."