The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command

Date [standardized human time]: October 27, 2136

The overall reaction to the news on Aafa was pure pandemonium. I believed that the Kolshian public as a whole had no idea about any of this; they were livid with their own government for keeping predator species alive. Leaders of every planet rushed to the airwaves to broadcast statements, with a few withdrawing all ties to any converted race.

The Krakotl ambassador barricaded himself in his quarters, and reportedly called in airstrikes on his own holdout worlds. The avian commanders would not adhere to this order, which drove him further into a rage. After leading the raid on Earth, it was too much for them to process that they were the first sapient flesh-eaters.

Chief Nikonus did not resign his post, and instead, attempted to appease the angered members. The Kolshians had been the leading force among races that sought a military alliance with Earth. A new coalition was organized to threaten anyone who left the Federation, or reached out to humanity. Tens of thousands of ships were brought on preemptive standby.

But the neutral factions were the interesting ones to observe. The divide became skewed in the humans’ favor, as the Federation turned on each other. Of the non-converted neutrals, those with close ties to presumed omnivores were the likeliest to offer aid. The Sulean and Iftali Alliance, a government consisting of two sapient species from the same world, were the first to announce their support for Earth. The Iftalis’ religion based on dietary purity led to unpleasant conclusions.

I hadn’t come to terms with being a predator, or a ‘scavenger’ as Nikonus had put it. Cilany worked tirelessly to spin a tale of victimhood, but I didn’t feel oppressed. Perhaps the Kolshians were right, that they’d turned the Gojids into something worth saving. We were a better species for not eating meat, and never knowing that temptation.

What would the humans say? Is it wrong to feel that this cure was a cure…that I’m a disease?

Right now, I was engaging in my first interaction with the Federation in days. The Mazic and Dossur ambassadors were present as Terran-allied parties. The other attendees, the Harchen and Tilfish representatives, were both partial contributors to the annihilation fleet. The meeting location was outside of Aafa, on an abandoned station. It was difficult to focus on the conversation, but I was needed here to guess at humanity’s desires.

Quipa, the Mazic vice president, flared her trunk. “We’ve known contaminated species like the Gojids and the Tilfish for centuries. I can’t believe that they all were harboring bloodlust in secret for so long. That’s solid evidence that humans might, just might, be genuine allies.”

“I had no idea about any of this. I thought just like any of you. I’m still disgusted by predators,” I mumbled, in a dazed voice.

Harchen ambassador Raila ignored me, focusing on Cilany. “This has given me a new perspective on humanity. They’re predators, but they’re open about it…not hiding among us.”

“We only contributed about 100 ships. The Federation brainwashed us into thinking predators needed to be destroyed.” The Tilfish representative, Dwirl, was an insectoid being, with mandibles and a black exoskeleton. “The Kolshians won’t help us, or acknowledge us now. We can’t predict what they’ll do to our people next, but the only species that might’ve helped us is set on our heels.”

“Surrender. They might kill you, but who really cares now? I don’t,” I sighed.

The Harchen reporter glowered at me, floored by my brusqueness. I suppose I had crossed a line with that remark. Still, my sympathy for a species that wanted to kill humanity, right up until it was their ass on the line, was dwindling. Everything felt hollow since the revelation; we were all a lot of hypocrites. I just wanted to hurt something…which I guessed was the buried predator talking.

You’re a monster, Sovlin, in so many ways. You are disgusting.

“The humans themselves said revenge wasn’t about blind genocide! Get a grip,” Cilany hissed.

I chewed my claws. “Sorry. I just understand that the Arxur are going to kill us all, and the humans? They’d be well within their rights to tell us all to fuck off.”

The Harchen reporter glanced at her holopad, as though she was waiting for someone. I noticed that she had been rather apprehensive around me, since Nikonus told her the truth. Writing off my temper as a poor attitude wasn’t simple anymore. We had known each other for years, and now, it was as if we were strangers.

My ears detected a faint sound, like the patter of rain on a rooftop. Instead of coming from above, the light vibrations echoed through the floor. Something bipedal was attempting stealthy movement. My reptile friend showed visible relief, as she picked up on it too. That suggested it wasn’t Kolshian soldiers here to knock us off.

Two human figures clicked open the door, and turned their backs to us. They must be checking that nobody had followed them. The predators were covered head-to-toe in full body armor, with helmets that concealed their features. I could tell from the slight limp in the male’s step that it was Carlos covering the rear.

The slender predator, likely Samantha, made a high-pitched sound. It sounded similar to a bird whistle, and was followed by a hand wave. A Takkan male ducked out from behind a corner, receiving the coast clear message. I was shocked at the condition he was in; there were gashes and contusions all across his silver hide.

“What did you do to him?” Quipa shrieked, with a trunk flare. “Who invited you lot?!”

Cilany raised an arm. “I invited them!”

Carlos inhaled sharply, tightening his fingers around his gun. “That’s the Takkan ambassador, jailed and mistreated by the Kolshians. We broke him out, while cantankerous Sovlin was snooping around.”

“Uh, sorry. Old habit,” the Mazic responded. “It’s…good to see you, predators?”

Ambassador Raila was frozen at the sight of the predators. The humans were twice the height of an average Harchen, before gear bulked them up. She held a pen out in front of her with stiff arms, as if that would ward off gun-toting primates. To be fair, she was probably leaving this station in their custody or in a body bag.

Dwirl took a different approach, and clicked his mandibles in a submissive note. He scuttled forward on his black, jointed legs, which connected to his rotund thorax. The Tilfish shook as he threw himself at the humans’ feet. His antennae quivered and his beady eyes fixed on them, waiting for a reaction.

Carlos jumped backward with apparent fright, and barely kept his twitchy finger off the trigger. Samantha shook her head, muttering curses and denials. A shudder rippled down her back, while her legs seemed unsteady. The predators’ response was bizarre, something I hadn’t seen from them.

Were the humans afraid? They’d never shown any fear of aliens, not since I’d known them. Hell, both of these soldiers had gone up against the worst the galaxy had to offer. Carlos was eager to go toe-to-toe with an Arxur, throwing himself in its face without hesitation. Samantha jumped out amidst flames to turn the tables on exterminators.

What in the Protector has gotten into them? This is almost comical, that an insect species is what elicited fear from them.

“Dwirl, back up. I think you’re scaring them,” I growled.

Carlos took a shaky breath. “More like freaking me the fuck out.”

“I second that. Totally creepy, man,” Samantha added. “Cilany, a little warning next time?!”

Cilany looked bewildered. “Warning for what?”

The human predators watched warily, as the Tilfish shuffled back on his spindly legs. The Takkan representative was happy to take a seat, but the Terrans were hesitant to enter. Their posture, which was fluid and graceful under normal circumstances, had gone rigid as a board. They beckoned to me and Cilany, while swallowing more often than usual.

The other representatives stared, as the Harchen journalist and I jogged up to the predators. The UN soldiers pulled us aside, keeping their voices hushed. Their body language suggested tension, and they kept shooting glances at the Tilfish. It was threat assessment; they wanted to be certain he hadn’t moved.

“First off, great work with Nikonus, both of you. More on that later.” Samantha cleared her throat. “So, uh, many humans find bugs and crawly things unnerving, or outright disgusting. I’m not sure I can talk to…whatever that is.”

“Seriously? You’re afraid of them, not the Arxur?”

“Don’t judge me! The deadliest animal on our planet is a tiny little insect called a mosquito. Worse than all those predators you hate,” the human female hissed.

Carlos nodded. “Also, where Sam lives, there’s spiders everywhere that are fucking deadly too. We evolved to be afraid of them because they’re venomous.”

I leaned back in understanding. “They’re your natural predators? That’s…kinda hilarious, to be honest. See, now you know how we feel, talking to you.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sovlin.” I could sense the female’s narrowed eyes, beneath her suit. “Give us a briefing on that…Dwirl, you called it. I need a moment.”

I tucked knowledge of the predators’ weakness away. This was the first time I’d ever seen their fearful reactions, and I hoped the humans could fight the irrationality. By the Protector’s blessing, they hadn’t even referred to the child-eating Arxur as a depersonalized ‘it.’ It wasn’t clear how they’d react to an enemy species that set off internal alarms.

Cilany piped up, with a bashful expression. “Dwirl’s species is called the Tilfish. They’re one of the modified races, we think. They were the smallest contributor to the attack on Earth, with a mere hundred ships.”

“They attacked us? So we can kill them all with a clear conscience; thank the Lord,” Samantha mumbled.

Carlos crossed his arms. “I doubt they’re all complicit. Everyone wanted to kill us because we looked creepy, Sam. Let’s…not be like that. I’m good, now…so let’s talk to the giant spider-ant thing before making decisions.”

The female predator snorted. “Sure, why not? Just another Friday with the Peacekeepers. See space, meet exciting new people, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”

Samantha shook her head, and strode into the room with careful steps. She seemed to be mapping an exit route if needed. Neither human took a seat by the table; there was no doubt the assembled representatives had noticed their jumpiness. I hoped the Terrans could get it together. Perhaps it would be best to force Dwirl to leave the proceedings, before someone got hurt.

Alar, the Dossur diplomat, chittered from atop the table. Hailing from the most diminutive species in the galaxy, the size gap was a difficult hurdle to overcome. The Dossur hadn’t believed humanity’s tale about their representative’s death, and broke off relations with Earth. However, after Nikonus affirmed Kolshian culpability on tape, the rodents were back at the bargaining table.

“Now that is adorable,” Carlos decided. “Look at those little ginger mouse ears! Hi!”

Alar shuddered at the predator’s roar. “G-g…no, no! Please!! No eat, n-no eat!”

“You want to step outside, buddy?” I asked gently. The rodent scurried away at once, and the humans slumped their shoulders. “You’re a lot bigger than him. Take heart, though…the Dossur are one of your original allies.”

The male soldier sighed. “He is tiny. So much for—”

“Excuse me! Oh supreme predators, I beseech your mercy humbly. I apologize for my unworthy display earlier.” Dwirl clicked his mandibles with adoration, but had the good sense to keep his distance this time. “I will see that all 1500 of our ships are turned over to you; anything we h-have, including our territory, is yours. Please accept the Tilfish’s unconditional surrender. Just let my people live!”

Samantha rubbed the back of her neck, a self-soothing gesture. “Yes, we will pass along your surrender. Deliver your ships to the Sol system, and await our decision. We’re under no obligation to show you mercy, bug.”

The Tilfish adopted a mournful expression, but didn’t argue with the human’s curt reply. If the predators were thinking straight, they’d see the pragmatism of accepting that offer. Assimilating the insectoids’ ships into their decimated armada would help them get back into the war. It would also set a precedent, so other enemies might surrender without a fight.

“Ignore my counterpart. Humanity recognizes your surrender, and will give the civilian presence full consideration,” Carlos cut in. “Sam, I hate what they did to us, but the Federation has these people indoctrinated. They’re not all bad. Look at Cilany, versus her race.”

The reporter tilted her head. “Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. I extend the same offer to your ambassador, for your sake, Cilany. Perhaps Raila has a bit more…regret now than she did on your recording.”

“Yes, h-how terribly sad about Earth! Very sad indeed,” the Harchen politician agreed.

The humans tilted their heads. Even without seeing their expressions, I could tell they found that response less than convincing. It was easy to visualize the sourness on Sam’s face, as she cracked her knuckles slowly. Regardless of their instincts toward the Tilfish, Dwirl’s groveling surrender landed better than Raila’s lukewarm act.

The Harchen ambassador is lucky there’s other species here that the humans don’t want to chase off.

Carlos sighed. “Humanity plans to go on the offensive, before something else is done to us. Can we count on support from our friends?”

Quipa flared her trunk. “We’ll send some of our military, and organize every ally we can. The Dossur won’t be useful, but you’re welcome to ask. Us Mazics will lend our ships and our army to your command. And, I’m sure the Takkan can clear the air with his government too.”

“I agree, it’s time to take the fight to the Federation. We are not their toys!” the liberated Takkan spat. “Humanity can lead us out of this darkness. They will. They must.”

My spines bristled at the thought of war. “The Sulean and Iftalis are rapidly coordinating dozens of neutrals to loan to Earth, but the Federation is going to hit them hard, soon. There’s no turning back, humans. I trust you to do things the right way, even if you don’t trust yourselves.”

The two predators shared a glance, and the assembled species scrutinized their mannerisms. I contemplated how humans were the only purpose I had left. Serving my debt to their kind was all that kept a wretch like me going; this was about vindicating an innocent race. None of my personal history mattered anymore, since everything I ever believed was a lie.

Samantha cleared her throat. “Time to go home. Come along, Sovlin…and Cilany, if you want. There’s a lot of plans to be hatched.”

War was a terrifying prospect, though the humans didn’t share my trepidation. They were eager to have a shot at actualizing revenge. The Terran resurgence could be swift and decisive, if they turned a few species’ scraps into a proper army. There was nobody else that could lead us into the future, or influence the Arxur at all. The fate of billions rested with the predators’ next actions.