The Nature of Predators

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

Date [standardized human time]: December 1, 2136

The Earth-borne holopad in my possession was alien hardware; Dominion resources weren’t equipped to track it. I made sure the device was well-encrypted, and could pass it off as top-secret research if asked about it. It allowed me to monitor anonymous Arxur forums, where anger and sedition were brewing.

Betterment’s grip on Wriss had waned, as word of Federation omnivores circled back home. Many citizens saw other meat-eaters as victims, of the same predator hatred that crippled us. The converts were genuine sapients, distorted by the enemy. Those revelations didn’t inspire faith in our diet, nor did the Dominion’s inability to reform.

Starvation is a good motivator for unrest. These forums have been safe spots for talks of the food alternatives raised by Terrans’ existence.

“The humans are the predators we want to be,” I read one comment aloud. “Perhaps our resistance movement could be officially recognized. Their support would lend us legitimacy.”

My shuttle was on a landing approach to the farm habitat; I digested the reminder of my purpose quickly. The humans were our hope at changing the status quo, and they were the only aliens who saw us as people. Our carnivory made alliances unobtainable with most of the galaxy. There was a reason our search for true life persisted through the centuries.

As long as we were isolated and starving, individuals like Shaza and Giznel would maintain power. Our plight was how Betterment retained control, stirring up perpetual hatred. The Federation caused our predicament, after all. Draconian measures (as humans would say) were necessary, and lesser individuals hindered our collective welfare.

The holopad was tucked back into a drawer, as docking protocols were completed. I disembarked to the hangar bay, and Chief Hunter Shaza greeted me. The fattened guards flanking her were indicative of our cattle-rich location. Farms were coveted postings, awarded based on bloodlines. This cushy detail was one reserved for those whose genes were desirable.

“Shaza! You look absolutely vicious,” I barked.

The Chief Hunter narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get flirtatious, Isif. This is a professional visit.”

“I merely respect a worthy adversary. The feeling is mutual, yes?”

“Indeed, I suppose we can spare a minute for pleasantries. A tour is…mandatory, for another sector’s lead hunter. Cattle farms are a delight.”

“Nothing like a satisfactory meal at the ready. Shall we proceed?”

The female Arxur stalked forward, her torso positioned at a sharp angle. I mimicked her lunging posture, and ensured that my “elderly” pace kept up with hers. This farm habitat was the pride of Shaza’s sector, with its compact design. Rather than the traditional pens with overhead guard walkways, her design utilized crawlspace trapdoors for retrieval. Arxur could monitor prey from viewing panes, and administer negative feedback with a button array.

The hangar spilled into a narrow hallway, with cattle pens visible on both sides. The enclosure to my left housed Harchen, who were in poor condition. I could see flaky scales peeling off their hides, and their sunken eyes in a listless daze. These reptiles were lethargic, having lost the will to move around. It was pitiful to see a sapient mind reduced to a husk.

Harchen territory was the closest to this facility, but that didn’t stop Shaza from ferrying in other livestock. To the right, I could see the newest species in her domain, the Yotul; exotic by all accounts. The smooth-skulled marsupials showed a bit of life, though I saw glassiness in their eyes. These uplifts played no part in what happened to our people, and supposedly hadn’t latched onto the fear ideology yet.

I worked with the marsupials on Earth, so I knew they sided with humans because they felt ostracized. Active hostilities between the Arxur and friendly prey were unnecessary. There was a truce ongoing since the Battle of Earth, extended to the three species that offered aid. However, unlike the Zurulians and Venlil, the Yotul weren’t in my domain. I couldn’t stop Shaza from renouncing my pact.

Most Chief Hunters are accepting any human allies as Arxur allies, despite Betterment’s official silence. But Shaza sees no reason not to round up primitive herbivores.

I forced a look of disinterest. “How do the Yotul taste? They don’t look like anything special.”

“The taste is quite strong…stays in your mouth for awhile. Dry too,” Shaza replied. “The flavor profile is not my favorite, but some of the guards like it.”

“I’m sure the underlings have simpler palates than us.”

“Isif, the masses will eat what they’re given. The important thing is how well the Yotul breed. Our herd here will gather data to determine their viability.”

“It’s hard to match Sivkits or Zurulians.”

“Or the Venlil? How could you give them up?”

“Calculated risk.”

Skepticism flared in her amber eyes, but the Chief Hunter continued our walk in silence. I kept my gaze ahead, not wanting to look at the cramped Yotul pen. That defective voice was restless after interacting with the helpers on Earth. I was relieved there hadn’t been any “gracious” offers to sample the product.

My mind was elsewhere as Shaza guided me through the guard quarters, a Krakotl aviary, and two more Harchen pens. If this was the crowning achievement of Arxur society, what scathing commentary did that drum up about our people? Billions of sapients were in similar misery, and cognizant of their continued suffering. It was a fate deserved by no one.

The Chief Hunter led me into the kitchen facilities, where corpses dangled from the ceiling. The scent of a gutted Harchen struck my nostrils, an aroma that tickled my olfactory glands. My body was conditioned to associate certain blood types with meals. Saliva production and eye dilation were involuntary responses; I could hear my stomach rumbling, despite being well-fed.

How did humans suppress intrusive instincts without any discomfort? I wasn’t an animal, of course; I wasn’t going to strike down an herbivore just because they were bleeding. That didn’t mean my nostrils wouldn’t have their interest piqued. However, on Earth’s internet, the impulses they discussed toward the prey had…nothing to do with sudden hunger.

“So our second-to-last stop. This is where we process food,” Shaza narrated. “Is this the part where you get to addressing Fahl and Sillis?”

I lashed my tail. “Two territories which belong to us. I agree that we should get them back. However, it’s in our best interest to attempt loathsome diplomacy for their recovery.”

“Why are you so keen on appeasing these weaker predators? They shouldn’t get away with blatant insults.”

“Ha…at least humans aren’t so dreadfully boring, yes? They did offer compensation for their overreach. They see our raids as wasteful of resources, and view this as a chance to build a decadent empire.”

“I don’t want their leftovers, Isif. I want them to get out of the fucking way!”

Shaza exhaled a frustrated breath, and sank her serrated fangs into her lower maw. The hostility in her gaze suggested a different approach was required; this was about personal pride more than resources. This sector’s Chief Hunter didn’t care if humans could supply more goods than us. No percentage of the haul would be sufficient to allow their incursion.

Humans bossing us around and calling the shots exacerbated the situation. They’re lucky they didn’t get nuked then and there.

“You ask why I tolerate such things, Shaza,” I sighed. “The truth is, I want to keep Earth’s guns pointed at the Federation. I’m using humans to make the Dominion the supreme, unchallenged power.”

“Using humans? I was under the impression they’re using you.”

“The UN are clueless to our aims, because Zhao is blind and on the warpath. Earth’s silly coddling is causing the prey to collapse! Meanwhile, their manpower performs the heavy lifting against the main Federation factions.”

“Their manpower, riddled with lesser creatures. Even their own ships are tribute from the Venlil; the weak, sniveling knock-kneed prey. Humans are bungling everything.”

“Nothing is bungled. They’ll do anything for victory, and pitting the animals against each other…it’s brilliant. Our enemies will be destroyed without us lifting a claw.”

“You’re saying you really want to use them to fight the war for us?”

“Precisely. Our victory has been delayed for long enough; for centuries. What are Fahl and Sillis compared to bringing down the entire house?”

“We don’t need humans to destroy the Federation though. We aren’t weak. We aren’t dependent on others.”

“It’s not that we cannot do it ourselves. It’s about preserving our strength for a worthy adversary; the Federation doesn’t contain enjoyable foes. Let someone else take out the trash.”

Shaza issued a low chuckle, and stalked past an icebox of Krakotl carcasses. Fresh prey was preferrable, but not always possible during military operations. It was inefficient to build cattle enclosures into every warship and garrison. Larger ships could accommodate active livestock, but this facility was suited to ration exportation too.

I could see that my words caused the Chief Hunter to reconsider her strategy. The humans could be framed as efficient soldier-slaves, who didn’t require oversight. At worst, the Terran advance softened Federation defenses, and pulled species away from the enemy coalition. As purely a numbers game, the tactical benefit was obvious.

My nose distracted me again, as we wandered into a hangar beside the butchery. Adjustable tunnels of barbed wire sat beside docking ports, built to load or unload cattle. This must be the shipping department, where any new catch was processed. It also provided a way to ship living prey out to the fleet, for fresh consumption.

Shaza cleared her throat. “Your idea is clever, but humans can’t believe they have authority over us. Their soldiers need a kick in the teeth. It’s unbecoming of an Arxur commander to surrender territory, without a fight!”

“If dignity’s worth more than our overall success, then your mind is set.” My pupils darted over to a barbed wire enclosure, where the tangy aroma originated. Zurulians were crammed into the unloading area, mewling pitifully. “Wait. Why do you have prey from my sector?!”

“Relax, Isif. Some idiot volunteers went speeding off on a medical ship to rescue Krakotl civilians. We intercepted them, and brought them here.”

Shaza shouldn’t be capturing human-allied species at all! This jeopardizes everything I worked on; the UN are pressing for me to barter these guys’ release as well.

Thoughts of Zurulian medics in New York ran through my mind. There was a unique earnestness in their efforts to save human patients. The little furballs were dedicated to preserving life, even those of people they believed were monsters. What other species would fly unarmed medical ships into an Arxur occupation?

Emotional concerns warred with my logic. I knew that my only objective should be talking Shaza down, but I felt sick to my stomach. Despite how good their scent was, my defective voice couldn’t bear to see friendlies shipped off to slaughter. My interactions made their personhood all too real, not a harsh fact I pushed aside with ease.

One Zurulian was sobbing, with despondent paws pressed against the wire. Her stomach quaked, and green blood was smeared across her little nose. The pleading quality in her eyes paralyzed me; I couldn’t bring myself to ignore the herbivores’ plight. My position gave me leeway to induce a more favorable outcome, so a bartering attempt was logical.

Persuasion wasn’t working on Shaza, anyways. My objectives shifted in a heartbeat, to a species more worthy of salvation than the Tilfish or the Harchen. The humans would have to deal with the war they’d brought upon themselves.

My throat was dry. “I see. Well, on the topic of injured pride, I will not press further on Fahl and Sillis. But I can’t leave this facility without a consolation prize.”

“So you admit defeat? What is it you want from me?” the female Arxur hissed.

“A few of those Zurulians. Humans claim they make great ‘pets’, and I’d like to test that for myself. I’ve been devoid of amusement for too long. I can always carve them up once I’m bored.”

“Tsk tsk. That’s an odd request, though I’d like to see them scrubbing your tail scales. I’ll grant your wish, Isif. Are two prime specimens sufficient?”

“Three is what I had in mind. Humans keep more at hand, but these will dish out enough whining for one Arxur. Oh, and…I’d like the crying one specifically. It’s a prime example of what makes these animals lesser.”

The Chief Hunter bared her teeth, and snatched the tear-stained Zurulian with haste. She deposited the quadruped into a scratchy sack, indifferent to any yelps. Tilting her head, she picked out two more prizes: a young, healthy Zurulian of each sex. Shaza dragged the cattle bag across the floor, and whispered for her guards to bring it to my ship.

I breathed a sigh of relief, as I realized the layout subtly brought us back to our starting point. My landing hangar was next to the shipping facility, which allowed for a swift exit. The hosting Arxur were all but rushing me off. Chief Hunter Shaza displayed ostensible irritation, weary of my visit.

My social tolerance was higher than most Arxur’s, but this specific company did not suit my tastes. There was no reason to prolong my travels. I offered a tepid farewell, and boarded my craft without delay. The bag of Zurulians had been thrown on the floor, like it was any other junk. The herbivores screamed their heads off, and flopped around inside the sack.

I ignored the parcel, lumbering up to the cockpit. Jetting away from the farm habitat was done with a few buttons, and a course was set for my territory. Unease swelled in my chest, as I realized how rash my snatch-and grab was. What significance did three cattle have in the big picture?

I crouched over the Zurulian package. “What on Wriss am I going to do with these guys? Any normal Arxur will think I’m mad.”

My paw reached into the sack, scooping the warm bundles out. The Zurulians wriggled and squeaked at my touch, before bolting away. I watched as they disappeared into crevices and supply closets; the fools didn’t realize I could sniff them out with ease. The Terrans must have endless patience to coddle such antics.

“I just saved your lives. I’m not going through a song and dance to prove myself!” I snarled.

Stalking back to the cockpit, my destination switched to Earth. The humans could deal with these Zurulian ‘pets’, and also learn the consequences of their mercy. The United Nations should be warned of Shaza’s intent. However, flagrant interference would sever my ties to the Dominion; I wasn’t sure I wanted to openly oppose my people.

As much as I longed for societal overhaul, Arxur resistance was in its infancy. A two-front war was a steep task for primitive omnivores. It wasn’t clear whether the empathetic humans could be trusted to pull their weight, or support our cause. Sticking my neck out wasn’t worth it without future rewards.

Perhaps it was best to let Sillis and Fahl slip back into Dominion possession.