The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command

Date [standardized human time]: November 27, 2136

The Federation ambush fleet moseyed forward, with a faint semblance of strategy. The enemy were sticking in groups of four, so that the predators couldn’t pick off lone vessels with their superior wit. Our opponents were also coordinating attacks on targets, aiming to gun down hapless humans with deadly crossfires. A standard UN vessel would be ripped apart from both sides before they knew what hit them.

The leading Terran ships had their shields obliterated in a few seconds; the plasma onslaught decimated exposed hulls. Any ordinary species would choose a desperate retreat, and regroup in an advantageous location. But instead, there was an icy calm across the bridge, at least, from the human crew. The Fissan on comms was whinnying in terror, the Venlil advisors were crying, and the Yotul at my station…was doing his job without issue. That was a surprise.

“Deploying tactical drones. Stay on the move!” a predatory voice on the radio barked.

The spacecraft carriers had a limited supply of autonomous craft, which were a Terran novelty. Unfortunately, most “drones” were lost during the defense of Earth; restocking the reserves was a challenge, with the manufacturing delays. Since humans were the only ones who possessed the innovation, and weren’t keen on giving away their secrets, their newfound allies couldn’t help on that front.

The predators trust no one, not truly. I can’t say I blame them.

But even the few dozen drones we had at our disposal were a useful tool. They could undertake the riskiest maneuvers, without any concern for life and limb. The enemy was likely blindsided by the unmanned vessels, so they weren’t equipped to deal with them. Manual targeting was a requisite, because the automatons were much smaller than standard ships.

The drones twirled through the sky, changing direction on a dime. There was no worrying about whether inertial dampeners could keep up, with no crew aboard. Pinning down the nimble craft proved a challenge for prey operators, in real time. The Federation lobbed plasma at the inbound contacts, but the unmanned vehicles simply veered off at ninety-degree angles. The enemy hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.

Captain Monahan nodded to the weapons station. “Ready our armor-piercing missiles. Wait for the drones to land a few punches, and fire.”

Our spacecraft cruised ahead, falling in beside two lightweight gunships that appeared to be Tilfish impounds. The Terrans had outfitted the seized vessels with kinetic turrets on the hull. I wasn’t sure what impact that weaponry would have against shields. The humans should know efficacy was why plasma dominated space, despite the higher energy demands.

The drones coasted onward, anticipating Federation blows through predictive abilities. Perhaps the humans programmed algorithms to monitor power output and radio chatter. These robotic creations were a marvel of engineering, regardless. Whatever anyone said about the predators, nobody could doubt their wicked intelligence.

Our handful of automated craft flew circles around the larger forces, drawing within striking distance. The craft swooped in across the Federation’s front lines, and unloaded missiles from close range. Detonations buffeted the metal exteriors, crippling shields. With inhuman response time, the drones transitioned to a deluge of kinetics and mini-missiles.

“Hey, Gojid. Find us some targets,” Tyler snarled.

I monitored the sensor data, finding the ship groupings with the most sustained damage. The Federation army was hurling munitions at the drones in a blind frenzy; the enemy hoped the deluge would cut off escape. Brute force proved enough to whittle down our unmanned charge, by a significant margin. We had just a few seconds to capitalize on the discombobulation.

Scanning the readout, my eyes turned to a Federation bunch just out of range. This enemy squadron had lost a ship to the drones already, judging by the hefty debris. The remaining trio were slowed by an aged bomber with an inefficient drive signature; that meant they couldn’t pull off sudden movements. A lack of evasive abilities offered an easy mark for the humans.

I highlighted those three ships on the map. “There. You take out the faster escorts with a one-two punch, then that bomber is sitting prey.”

“Good call. We’re saving the weapons station a lot of guesswork,” Tyler responded.

The sensors officer passed along the information, before turning back to me. There was a gleam of interest in his eyes, which was something I didn’t want to encourage. Perhaps I was doing a little too well with my orders, for an alien?

Our strike force converged on the target, accelerating with malicious intent. The UN’s adopted gunships brought up our flanks, while we lined up a Federation cruiser. Our nemesis spotted our target-lock, and adjusted their course in an evasion attempt. We sent missiles barreling toward them all the same.

The trio deployed copious interceptors, leaving no chance of our warheads slipping through. As we reloaded for another missile volley, the UN gunship pair swooped in to ramp up the pressure. Our Terran allies got near enough for a closer look, then added their own explosives to the mix. The Federation took those out with no problem as well. The humans’ love for bombs was well-known to the galaxy, so that sparked the inclusion of a hefty stock of countermeasures.

But peculiarities on the sensor readings drew a second glance from me. The gunships’ missiles were counteracted, but the Federation ships were hedged within the blast radius. Shields should have absorbed the negligible hit; yet according to my screen, the shield capacity had vanished. Upon their destruction, the human explosives seemed to have generated a magnetic field.

Captain Monahan beckoned to the weapon station. “Shields are down…likely temporary. Hit them with kinetics now!”

The UN gunships must’ve been expecting the shield collapse too. Their turrets flickered to life, peppering enemy hulls with bullets. The kinetics ripped through the Federation’s armor, like it was wallpaper being peeled away. Our vessel contributed with well-placed strikes to the engine compartment. The hostiles were reduced to slag, trapped in the wake of their own drive failures.

“What just happened?” I breathed.

Onso wagged his tail, watching the viewport. “Ha, those fuckers got scienced! To put it plainly, we disrupted the shield current with magnetoresistance.”

My gaze darted over to Samantha, who bobbed her shoulders in confusion. How did an uplift understand a concept the Federation never thought of? Hell, it was beyond my own scientific knowledge, and I was a seasoned veteran. That uneducated Yotul must be parroting what the humans said.

The predators just rendered shields obsolete, which meant bullets were relevant again. Because of Earth’s bloody history, human militaries already excelled in kinetics. This development increased my confidence that we could tackle the larger fleet. It would be surprising if the Federation could recover from the shock of our strategy.

I think I’m looking at the most advanced military in the galaxy, I mused with a tinge of fear. Yet humanity are in their spacefaring infancy.

I chewed at my claws. “This is all new to me. Carlos, Sam, did you know this was going to happen?”

“I knew they picked a fight with the wrong people,” Samantha chimed in. “The Kolshians are the ringleaders; they wanted this. They’re going to be the first to pay.”

Carlos snorted. “Funny thing is, the aquatic bastards don’t have much choice but to fight. They can’t play both sides anymore. That plan, to pit us against the grays and mop up the winner, is toast thanks to Cilany.”

“No, I’m talking about the shields, you bloodthirsty beasts. That little…magnet bomb or whatever? It’s revolutionary.”

“Yeah, the ugly fucks aren’t damage sponges anymore,” Tyler interjected, uninvited. “We can one-hit them, and not have to recharge that blasted plasma gun. Never liked the concept myself.”

I snapped my head back to the viewport, giving the officer the cold shoulder. Out of my peripheral vision, it was plain to see his hand curl into a fist. The predator was seething from my continued insults; his commentary may have been a peace offering. This tension was all my fault, but I didn’t know what to do about our mutual acquaintance.

Carlos jabbed an elbow into my shoulder, shaking his head in warning. I mimicked the humans’ noncommittal gesture, by rolling my shoulders back. The male guard hissed in displeasure, before waving a hand dismissively. I wished Tyler would keep this all business, since there was a battle to focus on.

Our craft pivoted toward the heart of the action, as Monahan coordinated each station like a symphony conductor. Everyone piped up with input when prompted, and the humans put their hunting instincts to good use. The predators sensed weakness, which meant they wouldn’t give the Federation a minute to breathe. The enemy was falling back toward the ambush site, condensing into a panicked wall.

I squinted at the sensors. “The enemy just dropped about ten percent of their fleet. That anti-shield mechanism is proving catastrophic.”

Tyler scowled. “Catastrophic…?”

“Catastrophic, sir,” I grunted, through gritted teeth. “Retreat is probable, if more imminent losses are in the cards. We need to inflict serious damage, fast.”

“Captain’s already working on that. Your analysis is spot on, but shit, you’re a real hardass. I bet you’re fun at parties.”

“I don’t remember what fun is, or what it’s like to be happy. Not since the Arxur ate my family alive, while they screamed over a video call. Humans always try to make me talk about my past, so now you know!”

“Hey, settle down! Officer Cardona had nothing to do with that,” Samantha hissed.

“I…I couldn’t make myself hang up. But there was nothing I could do…I didn’t say anything! Do you know how many times my daughter called my name? ‘Help me, Daddy. Please, it hurts.’ FUCK!”

The pain was still as fresh as the day it happened, like a knife cutting through my sternum. Everyone at our station gawked at me, including the feisty Yotul and my guards. Tyler was quiet, leaning over his console in thought. He scratched his sandy hair, perhaps envisioning my story. The hostility ebbed out of his posture, replaced by a pitying frown.

Shit, why did I say that? I don’t want his pity, and I don’t like talking about my losses. Stop thinking about Marcel, you worthless predator.

Tears swelled in my eyes, and I pressed a paw to my mouth to stifle the choking sobs. After years of keeping it all bottled up, Cilany’s revelation had me losing my mind. I was just like the demons that ate my little girl. Why couldn’t I help her, if the shared malevolence was true? To top it off, instead of defending innocents in her memory, I had helped the Arxur get a leg up in the war.

Carlos gave my neck a soothing pat, just above my bristling spines. “I told them you needed a psych eval. You’re not well.”

“I agree. I don’t know who the hell cleared you for combat, when it’s obvious you’re unfit for duty.” Tyler took a deep breath, and met my eyes. “My condolences for what happened to you, truly. But I think it’s best that you’re removed from this post.”

I glowered at the officer. “I can do my job, and well. Helping humans is all I have left! Just skip social hour and I’ll be fine, damnit. Er, please…sir.”

The sandy-haired human turned to the viewport, watching as the Terran fleet charged the enemy. There wasn’t time to get a replacement for me; plasma would be flying at us any second. For all my flaws, I was more competent than most aliens. Captain Monahan even admitted I was a knowledgeable addition to the crew.

“We need to inflict serious damage? Find us the path of least resistance into missile range,” Tyler decided. “Keep an eye on the surviving drones.”

I wiped the snot from my nose. “Thank you, sir.”

The Federation enemies on screen were retreating, conceding space bit by bit. Our opponents hoped to keep some distance between us with cycles of railgun fire. They knew if we got close enough, they were finished. Despite our recent progress, a direct plasma hit was more than capable of chewing through a UN vessel.

Keeping human predators at bay was easier said than done; danger served more as an incentive than discouragement. Our drone force was in tatters, but the remnants limped forward to clear the path. The Terran fleet used them as a buffer, distracting the railguns. Automatons were a new variable for the Federation, and those bastards hated the unknown. Therefore, the prey focused an inordinate amount of fire on the robots.

The Mazics were still duking it out with the initial force behind us, churning up carnage around Khoa. That predicament was another reason for the UN to expedite the initiative; the humans charged enemy ranks with fervor. A few hostiles began to target the manned craft, once we got too close for their liking. Plasma descended on our position at magnificent velocities, with one beam clipping our belly.

The ship floorboards rocked beneath my feet, and the shields struggled to absorb the shave. Propulsion was wonky for a moment, while the fluorescent lights flickered overhead. The Federation must’ve realized their volley connected with us, because target-locks lit up my screen. One enemy’s energy output dipped slightly, which raised my spines.

“BANK! NOW, OR WE’RE DEAD!” I roared.

Navigations struggled to get our systems responsive again. At Captain Monahan’s order, the humans diverted power from comms, weapons, and most importantly, shields. Our safeguards weren’t going to withstand another blast regardless, but it was awful to have all defenses stripped away. Every second our craft sat idle felt like an eternity.

A burst of light zipped across the sky like a lightning bolt, and I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a part of me that was relieved to be on the way out; stewing in my emotions had become too exhausting. Besides, the world would be better off without a predator like me. The downside of my imminent demise was the humans that would perish alongside me.

Maybe there’s an afterlife. Maybe I can see my family again…and so can Sam.

Our thrusters sputtered to life, coughing out the surplus energy. Our ship lurched to the side, with inertial dampeners cushioning the sharp turns by a fraction. We almost veered into an allied ship, who swerved from our path with a second to spare. The plasma beam whisked by our haunches, culminating in a narrow miss.

“Well, would the sensors station like to command this ship? Any more unsanctioned orders for my crew?” Captain Monahan chuckled.

I drew a shuddering breath. “Have your drones and lighter craft feint to the near flank, then bank center at the last moment. The Federation don’t react like humans.”

“That was a rhetorical question. Though, I like your idea. We could afford to mix up our playbook…keep them on their toes.”

The human captain huddled over her microphone, though I couldn’t tell what she said to our allies. The pack predators were able to act in harmony amidst chaos; their precision and teamwork were unrivaled. The Terran fleet fanned out, and coordinated return plasma fire. Ferocious lights shone around us, with the radiance of a supernova.

The counterstrike put a muzzle on the Federation’s offense, for a moment. Hundreds of Terran ships plunged toward their right flank, spitting munitions to sell the maneuver. We had sustained minimal losses to our fleet, and still had enough willpower to march ahead. All we needed was for the enemy to commit, before we could spring the magnetic field on our true mark.

The cornered prey felt vulnerable, on the fringes of their formation. Several vessels reversed course and huddled together for safety, as the avalanche of human weaponry continued. There were the faulty instincts at work again. Convinced of the Terran targets, the Federation arranged their fire to push us away from the flank.

“Throw both gravity missiles we’ve got at them, then follow up with our nuclear warhead. After that…spew kinetics at anything that survives!” Monahan barked.

The bridge crew leapt to carry out her orders, and the restabilized propulsions had us bank sharply. The UN advance hooked back at a retreating angle, and we glided perpendicular to the enemy wall. Weapons readied their new targets, before we snaked into the formation’s heart. It was easy to picture the startled Federation crew, frozen in terror.

A cascade of missiles drove their way into our nemesis’ soft spot; sensor data showed shields faltering and armor disintegrating. The battlefield fell into complete disorder, as the predators lunged forward for the kill. Kinetics spliced up shaken ships, and clean plasma dispatched any that limped along.

The Federation hurled a few stray munitions at us, with a dying whimper. The fools had no time to assess targets, and in their fearful state, a drunk toddler could aim better. I doubted most of them had close-range weapons or interceptors ready. The humans humiliated the traditional craft, besting them with savage cunning.

With the ambush backfiring so horrifically, our enemies could have but one collective thought. Reeling from the loss of another thousand vessels, the Federation spacecraft banked away for a full retreat. But the Mazics were still engaged in the fight of their lives behind us, with the lesser contingent. The enemy bombers were almost within orbital range.

All that was left now was for the humans to secure Khoa, restoring order for its rightful inhabitants.