The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command

Date [standardized human time]: October 7, 2136

The battle for the cradle was decided in our unit’s absence, hinging on the sheer force of human aggression. With a mix of bold tactics and innovation, the UN fleet was able to widen their numerical advantage. The enemy found themselves ganged up on, by a myriad of ship classes; every slight weakness was pinpointed and exploited.

Hundreds of Arxur fell by their railguns and missiles, and the entire formation was pushed back within a few hours. Defensive walls were dismantled by brazen, yet calculated charges. Hostiles were encircled and pinned down from every heading, unable to deal with all the Terran pests at once.

There were significant casualties on our side, but enough humans remained at the end of the dogfight. The grays were reduced to isolated, scattered pockets. This was a feat, if achieved by any other species, that would cement itself in folklore. It was the greatest victory in centuries of Federation warfare.

The Arxur vessels attempted to flee the system and regroup, but lighter Terran craft pursued them with relentless abandon. There was no mercy in a predator’s hunt; there was only the kill. Even in victory, the humans wanted little more than to finish them off.

They are wired differently. They stare into the darkness, yet they do not flinch.

The remnants of the cradle were now beneath the humans’ watchful eye. The omnivores had no intention of letting the Arxur back within orbital proximity; thus, the UN fleet lingered as a protective barrier against any secondary attack. They began transmitting messages to the battered surface, and organizing landing parties.

As for the captured cattle ship, that could offer plentiful intel. Technological access could allow humans to reverse-engineer the enemy’s weapons and armor, or develop countermeasures. The Gojid victims and Arxur prisoners were brought aboard UN ships, wherever there was room. A large chunk were deposited back on the UNS Rocinante, the warship that started it all.

Captain Monahan was seated at her desk, when Carlos brought me to her office. The human officer was impassive and confident; it was no wonder her subordinates believed in her orders. She had no shortage of conviction or mental fortitude. Her capability under battle circumstances was undeniable.

“Ma’am.” I bowed my head in a respectful gesture, and the predator waved to a chair. “Thank you for allowing me to spectate your interrogation. I can’t wait to see the bastards squirm.”

She folded her fingers together, and studied me with piercing blue eyes. “My motives are entirely selfish, Sovlin. You could supplement any intel regarding the Federation, and brainstorm pertinent questions.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve wanted to get my paws on a gray for a long time.”

“And that’s why we’re watching from afar. It’s personal for you.” The human crossed her arms, and eyed my lengthy claws with concern. “Private Romero vouched that you can keep a level head. That you won’t interfere, or question our methods. Don’t prove him wrong.”

I stared at my guard, who seemed to take note of my confusion. We had conversed about my desire for their suffering, mere hours ago. Whatever a human did to an Arxur, my lips were sealed. Did they really think I, of all people, would take pity on those creatures?

There would be no moral argument from this Gojid. If the Terran military violated Earth’s conventions on torture, I thought it was justified. Those parameters weren’t designed for child-eating abominations.

“Listen, I know what your inclinations toward humans are,” Carlos grunted. “Our interrogators are trained to say whatever it takes to extract information from a subject. They might try to build rapport with that thing, by talking like ‘fellow hunters.’”

“Why?! How can you even pretend to be like them?”

Monahan rolled her eyes. “We want to keep one talking. Torture isn’t an effective methodology.”

Something about that matter-of-fact statement sent a chill down my spines. I think it was the implication, that inefficacy was the main argument against torture, rather than the ethical rationale other humans offered. It sounded like her kind had dabbled in the art, after all…enough times to reach a scientific consensus.

“We’re doing whatever it takes to stop them,” Carlos added, with a throaty growl. “I just want to know that you won’t misinterpret things. That you’ll understand, if a human agrees with a vile statement on camera.”

They’re concerned I might fall for any acting that’s geared toward the Arxur. These predators don’t want me to accuse them of hiding their true intentions again.

“I disagree with your methods, but I understand.” I met his brown eyes, and suppressed the ripple of fear that ensued. “It’s your ship, your prisoners. You don’t answer to a conscripted criminal.”

Captain Monahan nodded. “Very well. Then I’ll send the signal to begin.”

The human swiped at her holopad with nimble digits. The viewport on the far wall morphed to a different image: an overhead angle of the Arxur’s cell. A sturdy chain clung to the reptilian’s leg, and allowed it to wander just far enough to sit at a metal table. It reminded me of the furnishings of my prison cell, when Anton explained my legal rights.

These savage predators shouldn’t have legal rights. If I overheard a lawyer introduce themselves and talk about defense arguments, I was going to blow a gasket.

The door swung open, and a dark-haired human in military pelts ambled up to the table. His strides were too casual for my liking, as he plopped himself in a chair with a bored expression. A clawless hand drifted to his chin, and his eyes leveled with those of the monster.

Secondhand fear tugged at my heart, seeing the primate within lunging distance of the gray. The Arxur’s imposing form was superior in every manner; its dagger-like teeth flashed with menace, as it studied the visitor. I don’t know how the Terran could keep such a nonchalant demeanor. Could he really bank his life on a chain’s integrity?

The reptilian prisoner unleashed a vicious snarl, without warning. The roar reverberated into the microphones; it was a bloodthirsty chord that sent my instincts into overdrive. The decibel level directed into the primate’s face must be enough to set his ears ringing and his skin tingling.

The human interrogator yawned. “Is that all? Are you done? I thought you wanted to talk, Captain.”

A rattling noise came from the prisoner’s chest, like two stones scraping against each other. The translator proclaimed it to be laughter. I didn’t know how the human stayed fixed to his seat, let alone displaying a cue of boredom. His cadence was also unwavering.

“You are truly predators; I had to be certain,” it barked. “That would be enough to make the feckless prey-folk piss themselves. They’re little more than animals, you know.”

The Terran flashed his, much flatter, teeth. “We know. The Gojids, they trampled each other the second our boots touched ground.”

“Conquest is inefficient, but for your first prize, I presume…you wanted to be paws-on. We interrupted your hunt, and you did not appreciate us spoiling the fun.”

“You saved us a lot of work, the way I see it. There is much to learn from your people, if you would honor us. I’m Ross.”

“Captain Coth. What is it you wish to know?”

Thinking of the Arxur as self-aware individuals with names and ranks was too much. Ross’ callous words stirred disgust in my chest as well; this predacious behavior was everything I imagined from his kind, in my prior adventures. The human tilted his head to one side, and I glimpsed an object in his earlobe. Despite his sinister words, he was still waiting for a cue from Monahan.

“Ask about first contact, and the events leading up to it,” the Terran captain ordered.

Ross narrowed his eyes. “Tell me about the first time you met the Federation. What did they say? Why did you decide to hunt them? We want the full picture, of how this all started.”

I blinked with puzzlement. This was a waste of a question; the humans knew how the war started. The reason they hunted us was because the grays were cruel, and they relished suffering. There was nothing new to glean from the tale of betrayal, and certainly nothing that would serve Terran military interests.

“Before the Federation arrived…well, to understand why those dimwits contacted us, you must know of the fourth world war,” Coth hissed. “You see, our regional powers always had competing interests. Does that concept register with you, or have I already lost you?”

The human scowled. “Our ‘nations’ still bicker to this day. Go on.”

“I see. The Northwest Bloc was a loose union of related cultures, which formed as a counterbalance to the Morvim Charter. The Bloc sought the reclamation of ancestral greatness, and built an army designed to subjugate middling states.”

“You’re saying the Bloc invaded its neighbors. Neutral ones.”

“Yes, precisely. The war was a drawn-out, bloody affair: as wars tend to be. The Bloc brought scientists in for genetic research. They wanted to find a way to select the best soldiers, so their army could be the strongest. That leads us to Laznel, or as he is known today, ‘the Prophet.’”

Captain Monahan narrowed her eyes, as though trying to decide where the reptile was going with this history lesson. I didn’t see how any details about a bloody war or politics were relevant. The Federation’s succinct summation, of a brutal culture that was bound to wipe itself out, was enough. The humans didn’t cut the creature off for some reason, and it was all I could do to listen to its grating tongue.

“A brilliant scientist, indeed. He theorized that certain bloodlines had a higher probability of strength and intelligence.” Coth tossed its truncated snout. “Laznel’s report to the Bloc Council was published under the name ‘Betterment’, and it is mandatory reading today. The Prophet rose through party ranks, eliminating persons of lesser races, health, dispositions and creeds from the citizenry.”

It looked like recognition, which flickered in the interrogator’s eyes, but it was gone a second later. Carlos’ breath hitched for a moment, and Monahan’s jaw tightened as well. I had no idea why such an unthinkable story would resonate with the humans. The Arxur just admitted their people’s hero was forged from the genocide of their own populace!

Ross leaned forward. “What did the Morvim Charter think of this…‘Betterment’ philosophy?”

“They thought it was too radical. That was when the war truly became about destruction; making sure the other side was crippled or erased. In the wake of several cities’ decimation, the Federation arrived. Their initial message was they were here to ‘save us’, and then, they dumped their technology to our databanks.”

“I think I understand. The Bloc used that technology to end the Charter, then turned their guns on the stars.”

“Not at all. The Bloc and the Charter signed a peace treaty, and began delving through the aliens’ gifts. We didn’t want a war with hundreds of species, who at the time, were centuries more advanced. The Federation promised their own betterment plan, but would never contact us directly. We didn’t know why, then.”

My eyes widened, as I observed how the humans were listening with rapt attention. This was an obvious distortion of the truth! The Arxur, signing peace treaties? As if that were even possible.

A growl rumbled in my throat, which earned me a warning look from Carlos. The guard had warned me not to interfere, but it stung to watch them record deception. This grotesque predator was lying through its fangs; I didn’t know how the Terrans could be impervious to the decadent hunger in its eyes.

“Anyhow, their medicine and the unprecedented peace meant people were living longer,” Coth continued. “Our food supply couldn’t keep up with the growing populace. We asked the Federation for help. They offered two concoctions: one for our livestock, and one for ourselves. We mass-produced them, and rushed distribution.”

“Without any trials?”

“We trusted the aliens. They said it would cure hunger…and people were starving. Hundreds of thousands of volunteers took those Arxur doses, and the livestock one was sent to every major farm. Take a guess what happened next?”

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

“The livestock began dying from a highly-transmissible, lethal disease. As for the Arxur test subjects, they were infected with a microbe that made them allergic to meat. Here’s a simple question, Ross. What happens to obligate carnivores, when they can’t consume meat?”

“They starve.”

“Correct. Every volunteer was dead within a month. The Federation simply responded how pleased they were…that we were cured of our desires. Their intent was to force us not to be predators; like it were a choice.”

My mouth opened to protest, and Carlos slapped a hand over my lips. I struggled against his grip, coughing out muffled words behind his oily palm. There wasn’t a sliver of truth in this far-fetched tale. The Federation wasn’t an organization that went around bioengineering killer diseases; we reached out to the Arxur out of kindness.

Why is Coth lying to them? Is it trying to use humanity in its conquests? Perhaps the Arxur noted that these primates feel empathy, so they’re using standard manipulation tactics.

The UN interrogator hesitated. “Okay. What does your ‘prophet’ Laznel have to do with any of this?”

“We had to make choices, about who lived or who died. All nations, including the Charter, finally embraced and expanded upon Laznel’s thinking. The individuals with the highest markers for aggression and violence were chosen as survivors, and the rest of our population was culled.”

“What about the Federation?”

“We studied them, and learned how they eradicated predators on their worlds. Someone got the idea to make them our cattle, and use that to scrape by. It’s fittingly ironic…it is revenge.”

“You didn’t think of grabbing their non-sentient animals?”

“The prey-folk are the most populous species on their worlds. They breed incessantly. Besides, they destroyed their wildlife populations. The idiots wiped out most large animals on their planet; including any ‘herbivores’ that got caught munching on roadkill.”

Captain Monahan signaled for Carlos to release me, and his slimy palm uncorked from my mouth. The human officer met my eyes, but there was a new emotion brewing in her pupils. She was scrutinizing me, like she thought I was hiding something.

Irritation coursed through my veins, and I bared my teeth in contempt. This was ridiculous! The predators couldn’t turn on us because of a flimsy tale, from a subject who laughed at sharing and slavery hours ago.

“Pause the interview,” the captain spoke into her holopad. “So, the Federation gave Nazis space tech, then pushed everyone to follow them through starvation? Pure lunacy.”

“The Arxur are sadistic monsters! This interview was a mistake,” I snarled. “You have seen them throw children in cages, chow down on people while they are alive, yet you are considering their lies? I thought humans were better than this.”

Monahan returned a challenging stare. “Your viewpoint is duly noted. Romero, your thoughts?”

“It’s something we should investigate. If it is true, the Federation erased it from their history books,” Carlos replied. “But, I am certain Sovlin believes the public narrative, and so do the common people. Any deception on his part is unintentional.”

I gaped in disbelief. “Deception?! You speak like you believe that thing!”

“Look, it doesn’t change the atrocities they committed, buddy. Humanity just wants the truth, whatever that may be; we can’t work with half the facts,” he growled. “Why is there no documentation of first contact? Unless you’re hiding something, why shouldn’t we look?”

Captain Monahan nodded. “Agreed. From the Federation’s perspective, they could think they were blindsided. They see predation as some form of wicked corruption.”

I cast a sullen glance at the video screen. The pleasure of the fleet’s victory was short-lived; as was any notion that these primates offered a reliable source of protection. My desire for friendship with the Terran guard was gone; in its place, was a blistering pain.

After everything the Arxur had taken from me and my people, it felt like a personal betrayal, for these humans to place blame on us.