The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Kalsim, Krakotl Alliance Command

Date [standardized human time]: October 17, 2136

Dry air buffeted my face, as we disembarked amidst tall grass. The shuttle crash was bound to attract attention from the humans. I imagined this place would be swarming with troops, if it was anywhere near a military base. We had no idea where we were, or how many predators were in the area.

My breaths were strained as the three of us hauled Thyon’s body across a savanna. Sparse trees dotted the vast plain, and a few beasts roamed the landscape. None of the orange predators zeroed in on us, but they were definitely something to avoid. I couldn’t see any bipedal human shapes, but it was a matter of time before we ran into one.

It’s much easier to fly than to walk. We need to find some place to leave Thyon. A place to shelter…and to sleep would be nice.

On our left, a bank of clay and sediment led down to a small pond. I was thirsty, but given that there were more bright-colored predators bathing in it, I’d stick to our rations. With how tired I was, I didn’t feel up to exterminating any threats now.

“This place is infested with predators. Only a few artificial structures,” Zarn grunted.

I studied the doctor’s grimace. “I don’t think humans cull their predator population at all. This is what happens when you don’t have extermination officers.”

“Can you imagine living on a planet like this? What an uncivilized world.”

This alien hellscape could be host to all kinds of nightmarish murder-beasts. The vicious creatures around us had lean, nimble forms, and fangs that put the sapient primates to shame. Most humans were unlikely to set up shop in predator-territory. It could be a very long walk to civilization, from this wilderness.

After a brief pause, we began the laborious trek toward the far-off tree line. The expanse seemed to stretch for kilometers, with no sign of the nearest settlement. This region’s heat was punishing, making me want to collapse in a puddle. No wonder the humans’ fur had evolved away.

“We need to put this dead weight down. This Farsul intruder is going to get us all killed!” Jala spat.

I glared at her. “I don’t leave my crew members to die. There’s wild monstrosities everywhere, and the humans could do anything if they stumble across him.”

“So what? The rations would be better spent on people who can walk and fight.”

“Lives are not trading chips, Jala. Haven’t you killed enough people today? I’ll leave Thyon when there’s an appropriate spot, hidden and secure.”

A cave, or any kind of cover, would be a welcome sight. There was no locale devoid of predators to stash Thyon. Leaving him in the open, to be gnawed on by a cast of beasts, wasn’t an option. It was unclear how much energy any of us had left; our flock might have to camp among the demons soon.

I was relieved to spot a breaking point in the grass. There was an uneven dirt path, which had faint vehicle marks in its silt. That meant Terrans did stray to this region, from the safety of a metal cage. At least we could communicate with human predators; an isolated one could be threatened into giving us supplies or shelter.

Zarn looked to me with watering eyes. “Kalsim…captain…”

The Takkan doctor heaved some strained breaths, and placed Thyon on the ground. He bent over, trying to catch his breath. Fear was swelling in his amber gaze. The realization that we were stuck on Earth, amidst livid humans, was settling in.

“Humans have definitely visited this place.” Jala scanned the red arch in front of us, with the prototype visual translator. “The writing says ‘Ranthambore Tiger Reserve’…I’m guessing those orange predators are ‘Ranthambore tigers?’”

Alarm awakened my senses. “Reserve, you say…like an area set aside for a specific purpose. The humans intended for this predator growth to happen, Jala?”

“I think so.”

“That is peculiar. Why would they want rival, stronger hunters on the loose?”

Even the sociopath seemed stumped by my question. Such animals were not conducive to modern living. Maybe the humans wanted whatever prey the tigers prioritized for themselves, and snatched it away from them once the hard work was finished.

It didn’t make sense. There were much easier ways to feed their hunger, than by stealing from ferocious fiends. I was certain a species with guns could hunt without assistance.

“They like the chaos and the violence,” Zarn panted. “This human war tribe could want to keep out dangerous visitors, especially their own kind. We might be in the most vicious nation on the planet!”

I didn’t know what the truth was, but I was going to assume it wasn’t anywhere close to that. The doctor lacked crucial understanding about humans. Their society was too structured for a state entity to stoke chaos intentionally. It must be something more philosophical in nature.

Given how many galactic religions were organized against predators, it could be that Terrans saw hunters as deities. The Krakotl’s farming goddess, Inatala, brought plants to the universe to feed her children. Predators were considered a perversion of her natural order, who turned to Maltos, the god of violence, out of greed. Our reality was the eternal struggle of good and evil.

I strayed from the faith once I became an extermination officer. The priesthood had a way of twisting the goddess’ teachings; none of it matched with their written beliefs. Maltos wasn’t an inhibitor of empathy, but merely an agent of destruction. We had seen that predators were violent and greedy, while not without some positive qualities.

“I think this is some kind of worship center,” I decided. “Maybe somewhere to pray surrounded by carnage, for hunting success. Or for the expansion of war.”

Jala chuckled. “A religion devoted to bloodshed? How interesting.”

“It is interesting, actually. This is why I wanted to preserve their culture…because we understand their kind so little. We’ve become enthralled with violence and killing ourselves, in trying to be pure.”

The doctor curled his lip. “A brutal race doesn’t deserve any legacy for their culture. I’m enthralled with the punishment of the wicked, not killing itself.”

“Your motives are rich with hatred. It poisons you,” I hissed. “Now, let’s get moving…before the sun finishes setting.”

The group hobbled away from the reserve in uneasy silence. There was no telling where the road led, or what animalistic carnage lie ahead. A more spiritual Krakotl would see this as a temptation by Inatala. I had never intended to get up-close-and-personal with human territory; our mission was supposed to be impassive. Distant.

This is a test to my soul, regardless of divine presence. We must face Earth’s horrors, without surrendering our values.

As we progressed past a clump of trees, my hearing detected a faint sniffling. It was accompanied by sporadic gasps, so I figured it must be a predator crying. Jala cued in on the sound as well, and drew her sidearm. The female Krakotl looked eager to kill or mock the beast.

Sympathy tugged at my heart, and perhaps a bit of regret. If a human was mourning the devastation we caused, what right did we have to disturb it? Something told me I was outvoted though, so I raised my weapon. The flesh-eaters were too dangerous to leave on the prowl, while we were out in the open. If a single extermination was necessary to safeguard my people, so be it.

I gestured to set the injured Farsul on the grass. “Zarn, watch over Thyon, and alert us if any other predators are approaching.”

“I can’t wait to see your extermination skills in action,” the doctor chuckled.

Jala clicked her beak. “His skills? Kalsim is soft on the humans. But don’t worry, I’m going to crack its skull.

“I expect you to be as silent as possible. We don’t want it to know we’re there, until we have it cornered. Also, let me ascertain some information before you off it.”

“What if I want to scare it?” the sociopath drawled.

“The human is not in a stable state of mind now. It could go into a fit of rage on a whim. Let’s not push our luck; we just need its shelter.”

The female Krakotl curled her neck in disdain, but took cautious hops forward. My feet glided across the leaves, and I took care to avoid any twigs. A fabric dome, supported by stakes in the earth, was established amidst a clearing. A single human was stretched out on a blanket; it appeared to be watching videos on a handheld device.

Terror swelled in my chest, as my instincts urged me not to approach. The feeling subsided upon drawing closer; secondary observations swayed my emotions. This primate was of a lesser stature than indicated in Noah’s data dump. Its skin seemed untouched by aging, and its register lacked the booming growl of males we had spoken to.

If I had to hazard a guess, this human was an adolescent. Perhaps it was crying because it lost its parents; that would explain why it was alone, and had wandered to predator-infested territory. My thoughts began racing with unpleasant images. It took a great deal of effort to push them away.

I stopped a few paces from its blanket. “Put the electronic device down, and slide it to me. Don’t even try to alert any…fellow beasts.”

The human startled, and pointed its tear-stained eyes at me. Its lips parted with alarm; it flung the device toward me like it burned to the touch. Video footage was still playing on the screen, as predator anchors described the loss of life in a city called Bengaluru. I wondered if that was the kid’s home.

“P-please, take whatever you want. Just leave me alone,” it whined.

That begging was rather unbecoming of a predator. Maybe it hadn’t become desensitized to bloodshed yet. I focused my gun barrel, careful not to keep my grip too close to the trigger.

“We just want to talk,” I lied. “What’s your name?”

The beast swallowed. “Arjun.”

“And your age? You don’t look like a human adult.”

“I’m 12. Uh, we’re not grown-ups ‘til we turn 18.”

Jala traced her gun barrel across its furless chin, snickering as it shied away. The fear in its gaze twisted my heart; the little beast still had years left of adolescence. It looked harmless, helpless, even. I knew that was deceiving, but it still had an effect.

Little predators become big predators, and reproduce exponentially, my mentor’s voice said in my head.

I stared at the shaking primate. “Hey, eyes on me, Arjun. Why are you out here?”

“Dad thought it was a good place to hide. He said you wouldn’t target the parks first,” Arjun croaked. “If this is the end of the world…we could spend the last day outdoors. Together.”

“Alright. I know humans care for their children. Where is your father now?”

“My, uh—my dad is a wildlife photographer. He wanted to get some animal shots with the space battle overhead. It’d be a damn good picture, if we…”

“If you survive.”

The predator bobbed its head emphatically, and more tears streamed down its face. The kid’s distress was apparent. It would be merciful if I limited the scope of my questions. I didn’t want to prolong its suffering; Jala couldn’t be allowed to botch the job or make a mess.

Gosh, what if there was a way to curb a human’s full-grown instincts? Pulling the trigger on Arjun…that extermination broke my heart already. It would grow into something terrible, but now, it was innocent. It wanted its father.

I struggled to steady my voice. “You’re doing great. Can you just tell me what this place is? We were curious about the predatory ‘wildlife.’”

“National parks are like an animal sanctuary. We preserve species that are threatened, or have lost their natural habitats.”

“Why?! Those orange…tigers are menaces. They’d eat children like you!”

“Tigers don’t bother you unless you bother them. They’re majestic animals. Lots of people tour this place, and there’s resorts, campsites, hiking...”

Disbelief flooded my veins, at the idea that humans wanted to stay in such a dangerous venue. To think that the locals went out of their way to preserve monsters! Arjun’s tone had been reverent, but not religious. Did predators find thrills in challenging superior counterparts?

I cleared my throat. “Thanks. That’s all we need.”

“Finally, the talking is over. So I can kill it?” Jala trilled.

“Er, well, it—”

Its binocular eyes pleaded with me. “No! I helped you.”

I stared at the colorful leaves on the ground, avoiding its gaze. The reds and oranges reminded me of a raging inferno, sparking across a pool of gasoline. The little pups squealed through it all, and their frail silhouettes writhed in agony. I felt like I was watching my handiwork from the truck bed again.

When they looked at you with those big eyes, you wanted to help. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

I couldn’t help but feel that our mission had been wrong. The thoughts of how the predators tugged at my talons, playfully, was still a vibrant memory. Looking at Arjun, it was impossible not to recall that first extermination. Younglings didn’t deserve merciless death.

“Captain Kalsim?” Jala squawked.

I blinked. “Leave the predator alive. It’s not a threat.”

“Not a threat?” Zarn’s voice made me startle, as I found him looming over my shoulder. “It’s an offshoot of flesh-eating barbarians. What kind of extermination officer are you?”

“Doctor, I told you to wait with Thyon!”

“Well, I was worried you’d do exactly this, predator-lover. Jala, you don’t have to listen to him. Kill that thing!”

Arjun was curled up into a ball, shielding its head with an elbow. The female Krakotl’s eyes twitched, and I could sense her temptation. I had to reel in the rebellious sadists, before I lost control. Admitting my actions were borne from sympathy would be suicide.

“I’m no predator lover! How dare you?” I roared, shoving my beak in Zarn’s face. “I’m a skilled extermination officer, while you’re someone who sits on the sidelines. Talk is easy.”

The doctor stiffened. “You just said—”

“That thing is the only bargaining chip we have. Humans value their children, so keeping it as a prisoner is the logical choice. Maybe we can make them trade us a spaceship. Food. Medicine, you arrogant fool!”

The Takkan gulped nervously, and slunk back a few steps. He stole a glance at Arjun, before swishing his tail in defeat. Jala also scrutinized my enraged form. I met her stare for several seconds, goading her on.

She lowered her weapon. “Using their kids against them. As a shield, maybe! I like it.”

“I knew you would.” I exhaled a silent breath of relief, and turned to the doctor. “Sedate this human, Zarn, like you did with Marcel. Adjust for weight. I need sleep, and I can’t watch a ravenous predator.”

The Takkan nodded, and filled a syringe with a light sedative dose. I watched which vial he grabbed, making sure he wasn’t loading it with poison. The physician handed it over to me for administration. A quick jab plunged the needle into the human’s neck; hopefully it was only a light pinch.

It should knock Arjun out for a few hours. When I was rested and able to think again, I would be able to deal with the predator. There was no telling how long it would act obedient.

The greater challenge would be restraining my companions from tormenting the child. We’d failed to eradicate the Earthlings, and its continued survival was simply an admission of failure. There was no reason for a stranded crew to dole out needless death.