The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Chief Hunter Isif, Arxur Dominion Sector Fleet

Date [standardized human time]: November 30, 2136

My shuttle descended on our spy station, piloted by automatic landing functions. This was the same clandestine facility that Secretary-General Meier approached prior to Earth’s attack. Perhaps the Dominion should’ve relocated the outpost, but the brass scoffed at the notion that any prey would dare to strike it. I knew that the Terrans wouldn’t hesitate to hit us where it hurt, though, should we ever clash.

Stations like this one were essential to sectorwide command and intelligence. The rig had its own state-of-the-art FTL comms network, which had been painstakingly routed back to Wriss. The relay functioned across hundreds of light-years, by leeching off Federation infrastructure as well. I was careful not to tip my claw when I communicated with the humans; I trusted them to watch their own self-interest foremost.

The Federation don’t bother establishing costly networks, because it’s the first thing we wipe out. I don’t need to give the humans vulnerable targets.

The shuttle dropped onto a landing pedestal; I wasted no time disembarking. Ceremonial armor clung to my form, and a decorative sword had been placed in a scabbard. It was time to act out Isif the fanatic. Some low-ranking grunt had refused her Gojid rations, and then ejected the food out an airlock. The Dominion wished to make an example of her.

Guards bared their teeth as I strutted into a central holding area. The prisoner was dangling from wrist-restraints, bleeding from several gashes. It could be my head on a pike, just as easily; there was reason I treaded with such care. Those ungrateful humans, who reclaimed the very worlds they told us to attack, were making me regret my risks for them. Earth wasn’t bargaining from a position of strength.

“Your death will be swift and decisive.” I shoved my snout into the inmate’s face, and stared right into her pupils. The Arxur guards watched with amusement. “Live like prey, and die like prey.”

I scanned my form into the virtual interface, and watched as several holograms popped up around me. Chief Hunter Shaza was a welcome attendee, since I needed to stop her from reclaiming Sillis the orbital way. There were plentiful examples of conquest in human history; however, the UN’s lack of slavery and brutality led me to conclude this was different. Terran mercy had gone haywire at the worst time.

The Prophet-Descendant of the Betterment Office, Giznel, was presiding over the trial. I’d branded myself as one of the true believers, and earned his favor among chief hunters. There was a reason I was assigned to the juiciest sector, with weak targets like Venlil and Zurulians. The question was if he suspected my treasonous intent, with how fervently I defended Earth. Human carelessness was jeopardizing my zealous persona.

“Chief Hunter Isif! Raise your condemnation for your empire,” Giznel stated. “Begin when you are ready.”

My pupils scanned the battered prisoner. “What is our birthright, hallowed Prophet? Arxur stand atop the food chain, and the animals populating other worlds exist to suit our whims. The accused mocks our very existence.”

There was no option to show mercy to her. Betterment has eyes and ears everywhere. They’d question me not seeking the death penalty.

“She, whose name has been revoked for treason, disgraces this military. Food is a precious commodity, due to the Federation’s butchery of our cattle,” I continued. “What right does a lowly underling have to dispose of food in an airlock? Food which could’ve fed a worthy mouth!”

I narrowed my eyes, slapping my tail across her snout. Hardened gray skin was pierced by my scales, which added to her array of marks. The Arxur restrained her yelps, as she knew such weakness would lessen slim hopes of Betterment sparing her. Not that there was any chance the Prophet-Descendant would forgive a capital offense.

Giznel yawned in boredom. “The punishment you seek, meritorious Isif?”

“Death! None who oppose the Arxur shall stand,” I snarled. “I wish to strike this thief down with my own claws, here and now.”

“Very well. I concur with the Chief Hunter’s assessment. Accused, any last words for your honor?”

The prisoner released a wet cough. “The Gojids are people…true sapients. They ate meat like us. How can you still treat them as cattle?”

“I’ll defer that question to you, Isif,” the Prophet-Descendant chuckled.

Sapient consumption was a requisite for our survival; I’d come to terms with that years ago. Sure, the Gojid jerky I’d eaten with my crew hadn’t gone down as easily, with the thought of Nulia calling me Siffy. Food that didn’t emit playful giggles, and wasn’t capable of higher reasoning was preferable. Still, there was nothing I could do about our current practices. My actions saved a lot more prey than one sliced-and-diced Gojid.

My tail lashed in faux irritation. “The entire ideal of Betterment is that the strong cull the weak. The prey are still prey based on their actions; how they snivel, and piss themselves over any challenge. These are not the behaviors of true sapients! Even if they once were cogent, that bears no relevance on today.”

“Well said. Go ahead; split that traitor’s throat,” Giznel said.

I stalked around the prisoner, arching the ridges on my spine. Fear glistened in her eyes, which caused my adrenaline to hum. It felt good to be in control, and to have a release for my pent-up aggression. Of course, I didn’t really want to complete this execution, but my primal side liked it.

The humans and the Venlil would label me a monster, if they witnessed me strike a prisoner down in cold blood. They didn’t understand the confines of my system. The chatty Terrans had entire rituals with lawyers, and testimonies that could drag on for weeks. Here, Betterment’s determination was the difference between innocence and guilt; made without a word edgewise.

Chief Hunter Shaza curled her lip. “I don’t see any blood. What are you waiting for?”

“Can a man not savor his kill anymore? I was hoping she’d beg,” I growled coldly.

My claws slashed across the soft flesh, and scarlet blood spurted between my digits. The Arxur prisoner sagged in her restraints, with gurgling noises escaping her maw. Fluid frothed up to her teeth, and her eyes lolled. The truth was, this wasn’t the first, the tenth, or even the hundredth person I’d killed in the name of survival. It got easier every time; the sympathy I felt became muted.

As a cruelty-deficient individual, I learned to fake dominant traits from a young age. A televised execution was when I realized that most people didn’t wince at screaming cattle, or cry when their family members died. That voice was always there, no matter how much logic I employed. Watching the humans glamorize kind acts, I wondered what Arxur society was like when empathy abounded.

Maybe it could’ve been the Venlil buddying up to us. Though, ones like Slanek are too emotional for even my liking.

“They die too quickly.” I turned to face the holograms, waving my bloodstained claws. “Shaza, I bring word from the humans.”

The female Chief Hunter grinned. “How can you be so right about the Gojids being weak, yet you fail to apply that to the humans?”

“Humans are not sniveling prey. They are destructive and prideful, to their own detriment at times. Don’t let their pudgy appearance fool you. They bested us in combat, unlike any other race.”

“Their prey-like interactions with each other sicken me.”

“You are mistaking prey-like for social. Empathy is not a defect in pack predators, though humans must learn to temper such tendencies. Still, they are apex predators on their world.”

Giznel narrowed his eyes. “Humans understand cruelty and aggression. They need the same push Betterment gave us.”

The Terrans had figures much like our Laznel in their history; I’d done research on a holopad I found in New York’s wreckage. Every herbivore alien questioned how such a leader could rise, but the primates already knew that answer. Their modern populace feared that becoming a reality again. Presently, humanity demonized ‘predatory’ attitudes; they detested an equivalent to the Northwest Bloc resurfacing.

Imposing Betterment on the Terrans was an awful idea, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion. Perhaps in the future, Earth would take in defective Arxur as refugees. The Dominion sentenced anyone lesser to death, so they might be amenable to lending ‘slaves’ to Earth. It wasn’t like Wriss had a use for condemned weaklings.

Would humanity even want my people on their world? Some UN personnel looked at us like we were diseased animals. Secretary-General Meier wouldn’t have taken much convincing, but alien goals weren’t on Zhao’s agenda. Every action had to lend a direct benefit to Earth, or advance their war efforts. I yearned for the original leader and his calming ideology.

Chief Hunter Shaza scowled. “This human message better be good, Isif. Why did they claim two territories under Arxur siege?”

“The United Nations sees conquest as a way to obtain the entire planet as our catch,” I responded. “They believe in maximizing resources, and are willing to negotiate a deal. Human interference was meant as aid.”

“Aid? Terran commanders messaged my ships, demanding that we back off. Their claim of Sillis, then Fahl, was a bold-faced attempt to swipe our prize!”

“I agree with Shaza. Humans are proving ungrateful, despite how Isif saved their Earth.” Giznel’s fangs protruded with disdain. “We attacked these worlds to enact their vengeance, while their own military floundered. We shouldn’t negotiate for what is ours already.”

“Of course, Your Savageness. Humanity were tactless,” I agreed hastily. “Going orbital on their army seems unwise though. Predators must stay united, until the Federation is eradicated.”

Shaza snorted. “Ah, yes. The Federation that humanity is pulling their alliance members from?”

“Pets. Not allies. If you’re tricked by lies tailored for prey…”

The female Arxur stiffened with indignation, and her holographic tail blurred with motion. The Prophet-Descendant scrutinized us both closely, spending an extra second on me. Perhaps I’d painted myself too much in Earth’s camp. A proper Chief Hunter should want to bash the humans’ nose in; humility wouldn’t be the worst thing to teach them, regardless.

“I want Fahl and Sillis in our control, by the end of the week. I don’t care how you do it, Shaza. You and Isif settle that part among yourselves,” Giznel decided.

Shaza’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “Yes, Great One. As you wish.”

“It will be settled. I am fully committed to our glory,” I managed.

The Chief Hunter tossed her head in gloating, as Giznel left the holopad call. The prisoner body sat at my feet throughout this exchange, which I hope bolstered my tough exterior. Shaza had near-full autonomy over her sector, except for the rare case of Betterment’s direct orders. People of our rank merely filed reports, and had thousands of ships to do their bidding.

Human generals were chained by comparison, with more oversight and rules to adhere to. I understood what they meant by war crimes now, though I couldn’t believe my eyes. What value was artwork in the middle of combat?! Why wouldn’t an army take out medics that were limiting enemy casualties? It was a miracle that Zhao hadn’t elected to shed this softness.

But I suppose their docility was why I believed they could pioneer a better future. Perhaps I could take another crack at the United Nations, or persuade Shaza of their value to our cause. Pride was important to an Arxur’s culture, especially given how concessions would be framed. The long-term value of social allies needed to be put in a way a brute could understand.

“Hear me out, Shaza. I will explain to you why tolerating humans benefits our cause, despite their irritating emotions,” I growled. “Every good hunter should have the facts before drafting a plan.”

The Chief Hunter swished her tail. “I’ve had enough talking for today. There’s only so much social blabbering one can take.”

“Of course, this discourse has dragged on too long. My patience is also tested,” I lied. “Opposing opinions are grating, and solitude would be welcome. Just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“We need to have this conversation, in person. Your attack may be detrimental to the Dominion’s long-term success. Allow me to present the military pros and cons, at a location of your choice. The decision will be yours.”

Shaza presented her fangs in a warning gesture, though the details were grainy in the hologram. I responded by dropping into a hunting crouch; cowing before a threat was admitting defeat. The humans were the only way I saw the war ending, and leaving us with a non-sapient meat supply. As idiotic as the leaf-lickers could be, I couldn’t allow our tensions to escalate.

“I respect an elderly…I mean, veteran general enough to entertain your speech.” A snicker shook her sides. “Stop by the cloaked farm habitat just inside my sector; it’s a day’s travel from your post. You can have a tour of a modern operation.”

“Age means surviving combat and nature’s assassination attempts. If you’re lucky, it will come to you as well,” I replied.

“Enough of your platitudes. Will you travel to the farm or not?”

“Yes. I’ll be there.”

Chief Hunter Shaza terminated the call, and I stormed back to my shuttle. Tolerating her condescending attitude, and groveling on the humans’ behalf wasn’t a thrilling prospect. I couldn’t even wash the death from my body. Cleaning the blood off my claws would suggest that I wasn’t proud of my kill.

A day of warp travel would allow me to process options, and play out various scenarios in my mind. Why couldn’t the humans just let two species who assaulted them perish? It would be much easier for all parties involved.