Apex Herbivore

The admiral looked at the bank of monitors in front of him. He tapped out a specific rhythm with his hooves on the panel on the floor beneath the screens. Several icons appeared on the closest monitor. The admiral looked at the images with his large, brown, bovine eyes. He dipped his head toward the screen, tapping the icons in a specific order with his left horn. On one monitor, a picture of a green and blue planet appeared. The admiral looked at the image, then, exhaled a loud snort through his large nostrils.

“Something bothering you?” The first mate ambled towards the admiral and stood to the bull’s right, stopping when her head was even with his withers. They both wore uniforms signifying their membership roles as vanguard for the Bovine InterStellar Exploration and Colonization Administration’s (BIStECA) advanced terraforming program.

“I’m seeing some strange numbers from our atmosphere probe.” The admiral indicated the monitor with the planet by tilting his head. He poked again at a different monitor with his horns. Afterwards, the picture of the planet shrunk in size slightly as text appeared on the screen. The admiral indicated the screen again with a tilt of his head. The first mate approached the monitor to get a closer look, careful not to step on the control panel, located in front of the admiral’s imposing body, with her hooves.

“But, that’s crazy.” The cow shook her head from side to side. “Why are the carbon dioxide levels this high?” She squinted her eyes at the monitor to see if she was reading the text correctly. Her tail flicked nervously, back and forth across her haunches.

“Well…it’s not so bad.” The admiral clopped a few steps back from the monitors and maneuvered his bull body to face his first mate. She, likewise, stepped back and turned to face her CO. “I’ll have to give a call to the science ship, but the fleet might have to pick up some speed to arrive a few years earlier.”

“Why did this happen?” The first mate couldn’t disguise the concern in her voice.

“I believe it is a result of the virus we introduced.” The admiral looked down at the floor and snorted again. He turned his body towards the monitors and began tapping out another rhythm on the control panel with his hooves. An alarm on began to beep. He dipped his head toward a monitor and drew a pattern with his left horn. As he lifted his head, another monitor flashed for a moment, then was filled with the long, broad face of a large black bull whose horns were not completely visible as they extended beyond the width of the screen.

“Admiral.” The voice of the bull sounded tinny as it emanated from a concealed set of speakers. He dipped his head in recognition of the admiral’s higher rank.

“Are you seeing these numbers we just got from the planet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you tell us what’s happening down there?”

“Well, sir. It seems the TerraBulls we sent down to the planet were unable to make much of a dent. They couldn’t produce enough methane, despite the abundance of suitable vegetation for grazing. The atmosphere was just too oxygen-rich. That’s why they had to introduce the bipeds with the opposable thumbs.”

“I am well aware of the virus Alpha team released, Officer Laredo. But why is the planet so hot while the fleet still hasn’t passed the edge of the galaxy?”

“Yes, sir. We all knew release of the virus would prove to be a wild card in colonizing this planet. The bipeds were rather adept at proliferation. They also displayed a surprising proficiency in self-immolation.”

The admiral moved his jaw, whether he was exasperated or merely chewing a cud was unclear until he spoke. “You mean they set themselves on fire.”

“Not as such.” The longhorn seemed to avoid looking at the camera as he continued, “What I mean to say is, according to reports from Alpha team, is that once the virus began to evolve, they isolated into territorial groups. They developed terrible weapons and used them on each other.”

“So, Laredo, are they cannibalistic?”

“No. They are simply destructive. They seem immune to reason. The only thing they understand with any efficiency is war. Their economy languishes in times of peace.”

“Should we be worried?”

“No, admiral. Their technology is too primitive.”

“Well, Officer Laredo, what about this issue of the planet being too hot too soon?” The Admiral sounded tired. “We’ve only got one shot at this. We have to get the troops parachuting down just as the planet reaches the perfect temperature. We have to be precise to eradicate the virus.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve been discussing this with the navigators. They’ve found a star in one of the galaxy’s arms. They think we can slingshot the fleet around it and take a couple decades off the trip. That should get us within the planet’s solar system about a year before the planet reaches its critical temperature.”

Mollified, the admiral said, “Good. Let’s set the course.” He touched a monitor with his left horn and the screen with the longhorn blinked off.

The first mate approached the admiral. “That seems like good news, sir.”

The admiral turned toward the cow. “We’ve worked a long time on this one, soldier. I can’t relax until we’ve breached the atmosphere and sent our ParaBulls raining down upon that virus.”

Two young men sat in wicker rockers on the porch of a dilapidated house drinking corn whisky from mason jars. They wore jeans cut off just below the knees and nothing else. They rocked languorously in their chairs. Their hair hung over their faces in sweaty clumps and their faces and chests were sheened with perspiration.

“You hear what that girl from New York be saying?” one of the men asked the other.

“Are you talking about that politician up yonder in Warshington?”

“Ayup, that’s the one. She saying all this heat is due to climate change.”

“Well, I think you know I don’t put much stock in what them city folk got to say.”

“Ayup. To me, all that global warming stuff sound like boolshit.”