The next morning, Savannah dragged herself to the dining table, dropping into the chair across from Cal heavily.

  "Morning, V." He said gently.

  Vannah muttered a half-hearted good morning, and dropped her forehead onto the table with a dramatic sigh.

  Cal sighed in reply. “Kiddo, I know you’re upset. But the Squid seemed sure Brenda would call you.”

  Savannah nodded without lifting her head, shaking the table.

  “And the bracelet—V, you guys played with it for a week and barely used it since.”

  She popped up. “You told us not to mess with it in front of them!” Savannah objected.

  “No, no, it wasn’t—I wasn’t saying you didn’t use it enough—sorry.”

  Cal took a breath before continuing.

  “Look, I know it made you feel special. And I liked you having it too—it let me worry a lot less. But—” He paused, choosing his words. “The things the Admiral said to you at dinner—the things that make you special—had nothing to do with the bracelet. You lost a cool toy. That’s all.”

  Vannah gave Cal one of those little smiles empathetic kids give their parents—to make the parent feel better. “When I hear from Brenda at least I won’t be worried,” she mumbled, crossing her arms on the table in front of her and burying her face in them.

  Sierra appeared from the bedroom doorway. “You might get it back. I got to keep mine! I think the Squidbassador wanted to give it back to you.”

  Cal didn’t want to give Vannah false hope, but he was a little grateful Cecil was trying to offer something.

  “Maybe,” Vannah mumbled into her arms, “the Captain didn’t want me to get it back.”

  —

  Captain No-Name stood in the conference room with the Admiral, forehead in hand, eyes closed. His expression was carefully measured irritation.

  “Why?”

  “They requested them.”

  “The children and their father?”

  “Yes. The Callahans as a whole.”

  “By name?”

  “Yes. ‘We would like the Callahans to be in attendance.’ Were the exact words.”

  Captain No-Name exhaled slowly, tilting his head back. “Are they special? Did they give them the devices on purpose? I thought they just found a wreck.”

  “That’s what we were told. And we did find the ship the same day I went to the ranch—it wasn’t far, and it had been there long before their ranch.”

  “How long?”

  “No idea. Rough guesses put it anywhere from forty to over a hundred years.”

  “What about the drone that was supposedly protecting it?”

  “No sign. Maybe inside now. We couldn’t get the ship open, and once Brenda told us about the relay, we left it alone. Didn’t want to piss them off if a deal was possible.”

  “Brenda.” Captain No-Name scoffed. “These things just let AIs traipse around their society? Send them off on missions? Are they just getting lucky, or did we produce AI sociopaths?”

  “You’re being glib, but I’ve actually been seriously wondering about that.”

  “Only in tone—I’m just as curious as you are. Why did it go so badly for us, yet they seem to have total confidence in theirs? Trust, even.”

  “We don’t really know anything yet. Maybe it’s not what it looks like. Maybe she’s not what we would call free.” The Admiral shrugged. “She seems to have some kind of reins in place. Her voice changes every time you poke at something she’s not allowed to talk about.”

  “Yeah, we noticed. The nerds think it’s a literal block. She’s not just limited by rules—she physically cannot talk about certain things without… permission, I guess.”

  The Admiral nodded, absorbing that. “Anything from yesterday give us a clue what the hell they really want from us?”

  “Not a damn thing. But we’re going to clear that up today if I have my way.”

  —

  “Sooo… he’s a liar?”

  “Cecil, it was a very important meeting. He couldn’t let you keep asking about squid private bits.”

  “He said there was another meeting where I could ask questions!”

  “Okay, well, maybe it’s not this meeting? Maybe there’s more? Probably there’s more. The whole crew probably wants to see one in person. Relax.”

  Sierra glared at her Uncle. “We should get to go to all the meetings.”

  “I know you believe that.”

  "Callahan Party, your presence is requested and required in Storage Room 17—currently serving as Conference Room: Supplemental. Please report immediately. This is an order."

  Cal frowned and looked toward the ceiling, muttering at where he assumed the announcement had come from. “Can’t give me orders, I didn’t sign shit.”

  Cecil nodded in agreement.

  Savannah, however, was already halfway to the door. “That’s the meeting! We’re being summoned to the meeting!”

  “Second contact?” Sierra asked, bouncing to her feet. “Let’s go, Uncle Cal!”

  Cal was still frowning at the ceiling.

  “Yeah, alright,” he groaned, pushing himself out of the chair.

  The family had just noticed Maria still seated across the room, looking confused.

  “Oh, she didn’t hear it.” Savannah realized.

  Cal chuckled, “How did she not hear it?”

  “It’s not—It just sounds like an announcement. It was from the Crescent in your ear. We each got it because we’re being summoned.”

  Maria frowned. “You are summoned where?”

  “Squid Monsters 2: Return of the Squidbassador!” Sierra tossed her arms in the air and wiggled them.

  “?Qué carajos dices? More squid monsters are coming?”

  “The same ones, just another meeting.” Cal crossed the room to lean down and kiss her quickly. “I know the answer, but do you want to come with us?”

  “No. No squid monsters. I will go to the theater. They have a nice romantic movie playing. With no monsters.”

  “By yourself?” Sierra asked.

  “Sí, tu tío no entiende el romance. Solo a las vacas.”

  The girls burst into laughter as Cal furrowed his brow. “I know ‘tío’ is uncle—vacas is… cow.”

  Maria blinked at him innocently.

  “I said you are romantic enough. You do not need to learn from movies.”

  Cal grinned. “You’re a liar, but I’ve got a meeting to go to, apparently.”

  “If the squid monsters eat you, I will keep the ranch.”

  “That’s fair.” Cal grinned at her, “don’t try to ride Nugget.”

  —

  The Callahans were greeted outside the doors of the supplemental conference room by—all the jellyfish.

  There was no way to tell if they were the same ones from First Contact, but once again there were four of them, clustered together.

  And the moment they saw the Callahans, they lit up. Literally.

  Their colors went wild—flashing bright pinks, shifting into deep, royal purples. The changes came faster than anything in their first meeting, rapid and almost frantic.

  The effect was unmistakable—excitement. Not subtle, not restrained. The jellyfish were very worked up at the sight of the Callahan family’s approach.

  But none of them spoke. Could they speak? They didn’t have the separate device the Squidbassador’s voice seemed to come from.

  As the family drew closer, the jellyfish split apart, making way for them to pass through—still flashing like little disco balls the entire time.

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  -

  The room briefly turned to acknowledge the new arrivals—everyone except the Squidbassador and Captain No-Name, who were mid-conversation.

  Cal and the girls gave awkward nods, then took seats near the door as attention returned to the discussion.

  Captain No-Name, his tone flat and unamused, was speaking to the Squidbassador, whose globules were dark steady purples.

  “It’s not about our usage of the space—the logic doesn’t play out, Ambassador. We need a clear understanding of why you want to inhabit our planets—as our neighbors. Until we do, I don’t see this being productive.”

  The Squidbassador lowered the tentacle he had been using as an arm and stabilized himself on all three appendages.

  He took an awkward, slapping step back, repositioning himself to signal that he was now addressing the entire room, not just the Captain.

  “Answers,” he began, “will be easier if you permit me to speak freely. I am not a diplomat. I am a scientist, chosen for this role because my field of study is mammalian behavior.

  What I say now, I say as an observer of nature, without judgment. Please take no offense—none is intended.

  Mammals are territorial. You are deeply concerned with claiming and controlling your environment. Many species will claim as much as they can control. And mammals often exhibit aggression to defend these claims—attempting to remove even harmless scavengers and insects.

  Our species evolved from ambush predators. We claim a den and defend it fiercely—but only within its walls. Beyond them, we welcome others.

  As ambush predators, we desire activity near our den. We want to see other creatures pass by. We prefer having others of our kind dwell nearby in case a larger predator must be dealt with.

  There is a fundamental difference between our psychology and that of most mammals we encounter—including you—and the Aggressors.

  In a way, your tribal nature has made you isolationist and competitive, even among your own kind.

  And our isolation has made us social and cooperative, even with those who are different.”

  The room fell into silence, heavy with contemplation, as the Squidbassador swept his gaze across those gathered. His globules shifted a shade lighter.

  “Now, allow me to be just as honest about my own species.

  We view others as assets. We ask—how can this neighbor serve our needs?

  Like you, we have evolved beyond these instincts controlling our actions outright, but they shape every aspect of our society—just as your instincts shape your culture.

  We see humanity as a potential asset. A neighbor who strengthens our survival. We express this in diplomatic terms, just as you do not set your borders by declaring, ‘We like to control territory!’ during negotiations.” Pink flickers and swirls in the globules near his eyes flashed and faded.

  Scattered chuckles from the humans.

  The Squidbassador continued.

  “But this is the truth—the motivation you seek—the deception you suspect:

  The Aggressors are mammals—aquatic-adapted and capable of deep descent into our oceans. Not unlike the leopard seal from your own world.

  They have established bases on unclaimed land on our worlds and are launching attacks against us from them.

  We are capable warriors in the water—dangerous, even. But on land? We are slow, awkward, and our combat technologies were designed for aquatic and space environments.

  We wish to use you—to enhance our own survival.

  We need you to fight for us. To be our forces on land.”

  The Squidbassador paused, he had a good sense of dramatic timing.

  As soft mumbling began to appear, he laid out his closing remarks:

  “In exchange, we offer you all the non-oceanic territory, including freshwater resources, on the worlds we inhabit.

  And to ensure you are effective against the Aggressors, it will be necessary to uplift your technology—many gifts will be offered.

  If you will not fight with us—then we request refuge on your own worlds, which we know you will defend if the Aggressors come.

  We offer only defensive technologies in this latter exchange—but it would be reasonable to assume that if the Aggressors do come for your worlds, that policy would change at that time.

  I have now shared with you all that was withheld.

  There are many details to discuss, but no secrets remain.”

  -

  There was quite a stir in the room as everyone began talking at once.

  The Admiral suggested a recess to discuss this new information, and the Squidbassador agreed, stating that he would return to his shuttle and wait to be summoned.

  But before he left, he turned his attention to the Callahans.

  As he moved toward them, one of the jellyfish-like Chromaphors from the hall drifted into the conference room, slapping its way to his side.

  The Callahans rose from their seats and moved to meet the ambassador.

  “Callahans,” the Squidbassador greeted them, his globules bordering on luminescent—bright shades of pink and purple, their edges wiggling and pulsing. His voice carried genuine excitement, speaking faster than his usual measured pace.

  “The debrief of Brenda has been most illuminating, and we have greatly enjoyed learning the details of your lives on the ranch! It is fascinating to many of us—but to me in particular—to have such an in-depth look at the life of a sapient mammal family group!”

  As he spoke, he lifted one of the tentacles he stood on and gestured toward his jellyfish companion with his flipper-hand.

  The smaller Chromaphor wore a bag secured by a strap over his body-head. Reaching into it, he produced an off-white cube, about five inches on each side, and extended it toward Savannah.

  “This is for you, Savannah,” the Squidbassador said, his voice full of gentle whimsy. “When opened, it will play a message intended for your family. Please view it together—but perhaps in private.”

  Savannah took the cube carefully, giving in to the temptation to deliberately brush the jellyfish’s flipper-hand. It was soft, slightly squishy, cool to the touch. The contact was brief, but as it happened, the jellyfish's wispy little orbs of color flashed rapidly in bright pinks.

  Savannah smiled at the jellyfish and then to the Squidbassador. “What is it?” She asked, turning the box slightly in her hand.

  “A gift—well deserved, we feel.” The Squidbassador’s pink globules wiggled pleasantly. “This meeting is being adjourned, and I must report my earlier-than-scheduled disclosure of details to my ship. If you will excuse me.”

  He politely acknowledged the other Callahans with a glance, then turned and—flopped noisily and gracelessly away.

  Sierra giggled as he did.

  “Bet that’s your bracelet!” She shot Vannah a grin.

  Cal hoped so too.

  But nobody hoped so as much as Savannah.

  ***

  The Callahans really had no choice but to return to their quarters, Savannah would have dragged them if they resisted.

  As the door closed behind them Maria wandered in from the adults bedroom to greet them.

  Savannah had already dropped onto the couch and placed the little box on the coffee table in front of it.

  “Sit down! I’m going to open it.”

  Maria looked questioningly at Cal as she moved to Vannah.

  Cal shrugged. “The Squidbassador gave her a present.”

  “?De qué estás hablando? ?Qué es esa palabra, Squidbassador? Esa no es una palabra. ?Por qué vine a este lugar? Nadie dijo Squidbassador en casa." Maria took a distant position from the box, stationing herself near the arm of the couch.

  When everyone had chosen a spot, Savannah took a deep breath and opened the little white box.

  Inside the lid was a screen, split into an upper and lower section.

  The interior of the box, where the contents should be, was only a smooth black surface. Like a second lid, but with no obvious way to open it.

  The upper half of the screen on the lid interior began playing a message—apparently recorded by the Squidbassador for them.

  The bottom half displayed the same message in text.

  It was long.

  Very long.

  "Ugh," Sierra muttered. "Another exposition dump."

  -

  "Greetings!" The Squidbassador’s voice rang out, his image appearing on the upper screen.

  "Brenda has made a request—one we have granted. She will remain with you, though her device required adjustments. She no longer shares it with an operating system—she is now the operating system.

  Previously, its power and processing were limited to anticipated needs. Now, she has full control, allowing improvements in performance, which she is likely to refine further in time. We have also provided the best compatible upgrades, enhancing her sensors and emitters. The changes are small, but noteworthy. Brenda can explain further."

  His tone shifted. "Now, I must clarify the nature and limitations of these devices. Brenda’s debriefing raised serious concerns. It appears all humans who have encountered them—especially Sierra Callahan—have significantly overestimated their capabilities.

  Please absorb this carefully. It may save your life."

  -

  "These are not military equipment," the Squidbassador continued. "They are symbols of respect. When a member of our society is deemed worthy of our highest honor, we devote immense resources to crafting one of these devices for them.

  This is why we chose them as a First Contact gift. They provide casual but effective protection for our most valued members. Upon their deaths, the devices are returned to the Council and redistributed.

  They are not designed for warfare."

  "The shields absorb considerable energy and recharge rapidly, but there are limits. You have simply been fortunate not to encounter them.”

  “Brenda has prepared a briefing specifically for your family.”

  Brenda’s voice now emerged from the box, calm and clinical.

  "Hello, Callahans. And especially Sierra, please."

  Sierra frowned at the box. “We get it.”

  "I will explain this in terms relevant to you as users, based on my observation of your intended use of the devices.”

  “In General: Recharge times of the devices vary with specifics of the scenario, but as a rule anticipate twenty seconds of vulnerability if your shield is fully discharged."

  “Regarding weapons fire: You should expect the shield to absorb no more than two impacts from a weapon every twenty seconds. You may experience scenarios in which the interval between impacts is longer, resulting in the shield absorbing more energy before failure. But in general, try not to get shot—if you must, no more than twice.”

  "Regarding the kinetic energy management feature that Sierra is so fond of exploiting: it was designed for elderly biologicals prone to falling accidents."

  Sierra narrowed her eyes at the box.

  "Her—enthusiastic—use was never intended, but generally remains within safe parameters. However, records indicate that had her encounter with Hermes continued, the results could have been unfortunate."

  Callan cut his eyes at Cecil. "What about Hermes?"

  "Shhh," she muttered, pointing at the box.

  "The twenty-second recharge delay still applies to the unpredictable kinetic scenarios Sierra creates. Please proceed with caution."

  -

  "Lastly, the cloaking feature Savannah enjoys—and I believe Sierra has yet to activate."

  Sierra raised her shoulders and gestured at the box with both hands. “What is her problem!?”

  "The effect of the cloak is purely cosmetic. A novelty. It conceals only from direct visual observation—other detection methods will still be effective."

  Brenda’s voice remained level. "Please consider this information carefully and adjust your confidence levels accordingly.”

  “You may now collect your device."

  -

  With a soft hiss, the interior of the box unlocked, its black cover retracting into the rear wall.

  A final message from the Squidbassador played.

  "As a note: All of this information was included in the original container for these devices—crafted from rare and valuable shell, set upon crushed mineral sand of significant worth. Did you not keep the box? You should always keep a nice box." The screen winked out,

  Inside, the device rested. Possibly the same one, but who could tell?

  Savannah froze.

  Sierra feigned reaching for it.

  She barely moved before Savannah, with inhuman speed, snatched it and slapped it onto her wrist.

  "Brenda! Are you there?!"

  “Hello Savannah, Callahans.” Brenda replied cheerfully.

  We know what they want.

  Oh right... The Aggressors.