Then, I started to talk out our current situation. “Out here in dogspace…”24
She interrupted. “Wait a minute. They call us Humans,25 not apes. We owe them the
same respect. Vargr, not dogs.”
Who was she, the new hire to tell me how to talk? We all called them dogs.
Sometimes they called themselves dogs. And they certainly called us apes. Or, some
equivalent word in their growling language.
Captain was lamenting how the
dogs conspired to underpay for trade goods and overcharge for starport services.
“Dogs is inappropriate. They are Vargr.” Captain certainly registered surprise.
Beecie continued, “These people are our customers, our clients, our suppliers. We get
money from them for the goods we sell. We pay them to refuel us and service our ship.
We expect them to do it right. Our lives are in their hands, in more ways than one.
“They must be hearing you calling them dogs. You are ignoring their own cultural
value for small group hierarchies. They deserve your respect until they prove unworthy.
Our ship’s Imperial registry commands some deference, but when you talk like that it
triggers micro-aggressions. They aren’t conspiring across parsecs to defraud you. They
just don’t like you. If you ever come back to the same port, they will remember.”26
No one ever talked like that to Captain. We awaited his outburst response. Except
First interceded. “Beecie is right.”
On the other hand, my perception changed. If I refocused my eyes, I saw the Vargr as
people. Granted, they had long snouts, fangs, wet (or dry) noses, but inside they were
people just like us.