The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command

Date [standardized human time]: September 3, 2136

Worst-case scenarios cycled through my mind, as the Gojid ships formed a defensive wall around the colony. I tried to imagine how the people on the ground felt; trapped and aware of the impending assault.

This sea of dots spanning the blue orb’s circumference was all that stood between the innocent and hungry predators. Any angle that was overlooked was an opportunity for the humans to break through. We would stop any missiles from penetrating our ranks by throwing our craft in the way, if necessary.

The only way a battle with a predator ended, was with all of them dead, or all of us dead.

The primitive nature of the human craft was our primary hope. A single hit should be enough to dispatch their ships. Hell, the station’s lasers might be able to chew through more than one at a time. Our weaponry was designed to tear through Arxur armor, and the Terrans’ defenses were negligible.

“Sir. The ships have reappeared just out of targeting range,” Jemic barked, a tremor in her voice. I hoped the weapons officer could keep her wits. “On a trajectory course for the base.”

The viewport locked onto the hostiles. I watched as they veered off onto multiple headings, and altered their course to avoid any intercepting ships we launched. A laser lanced out from the station, a streak of brilliancy across the void. The shot connected with a Terran bomber, and obliterated the predator craft in a flash.

Happiness fluttered in my chest, though it was tempered by nerves. It was encouraging that we had attained the first kill of the war.

The humans, in response, spewed plasma at the approaching Gojid ships. They seemed to hope that would ward us off, like brandishing a torch to keep a beast at bay. Weapons of that caliber couldn’t deal more than minor damage, but I knew they had to preserve their main payload for their target.

It occurred to me that we had simplified the task of bombing the station for the humans. The predators were flooring it toward their stated target, and in many ways, my suggestions cleared the path. There wasn’t a single sign of deviation, which boggled my mind.

The asteroid base dispatched as many ships as it could, and left its own defenses barren in the process. When given the choice, our commanders prioritized civilian lives over military infrastructure.

Things can be replaced. Stations can be rebuilt, I chided myself. Lives cannot. There are children down there.

I couldn’t help but wonder, for a split second, if this was a lapse in judgment on my part. Where was that predatory sadism; the one Zarn said humans used on their own world? The last thing I wanted was to cost the Gojidi Union valuable resources. It was worse if some soldiers didn’t make it from their barracks. Their deaths would weigh on my conscience for years.

But there was no way a predator could override their bloodlust, particularly while engaged in warfare! It was a matter of time before the humans rounded on our position. At least a few ships had to give into temptation, even if the majority could resist.

“Shoot the bastards! Blast them out of the sky!” I roared.

Jemic sighed. “I just said they’re out of range, sir. We need to move closer.”

“We are NOT abandoning our position. The second the planet is vulnerable, they’ll pounce.”

My mind yearned to fight the humans myself, but I had to remember the stakes at hand. We were consigned to watching, as though this skirmish were some spectator sport. Zarn was cheering each time a Terran vessel went up in a fireball, which earned strange glances from the nearest crew.

The predators weaved erratic patterns to avoid termination, but their spirals and zigzags weren’t fast enough. Every crackle of the laser purged one of the vermin. The station’s defenses were slow to recharge, but their effectiveness was dazzling. In fairness, it seemed a love tap could take out a Terran ship; their workmanship was rather flimsy.

Gojid craft remained hot on the humans’ heels, and spit our own concentrated plasma at them. There was no breathing space for our attackers. The predators rocketed up to max acceleration, and towed a tighter line toward the base. It was wonderful to see our ships chasing the humans; how the tables had turned, from the natural order. The hunter was the hunted.

“Captain, the predators are showing no interest in the colony. I don’t see the harm in taking a few ships to the battlefield,” Jemic pressed.

“They’re just trying to lose their pursuers. If they can bait us away from the colony’s defense, that’s what they want.”

Her spines bristled. “I hate feeling powerless.”

“As do I. Zarn, why don’t you make yourself useful?” I gestured toward the doctor, who was transfixed by the battle. “Establish contact with Piri, if at all possible. Make her aware of the predators’ tactics, so she can relay a warning to any nearby installations.”

The Takkan returned an eager tail swish, and scrambled to reopen communication lines. My gaze darted back to the viewport. I looked just in time to catch a glimpse of a Terran fighter, taking a round to the belly. The plasma compromised its hull integrity, and reduced it to a fractured heap of metal.

There was no hesitation from the Gojid chasers, to bombard the incapacitated ship with fire. Nobody would be foolish enough to leave a predator alive; they needed to be taken out of the fight with permanence. As long as such a monster was still kicking, they could have a final trick up their sleeves.

The human vessels clustered back together, and opted to deal with the gaining pursuers one at a time. They peppered the closest Gojid ship with fire, and concentrated their strikes on its drive column. The patroller’s engine went up in a colossal flare; debris was flung in all directions. Our other allies were forced to drop back, to avoid getting swept up in the blast’s wake.

Stars… I hate humans, I seethed. They don’t quit or retreat! I curse my ancestors, for not confirming their extinction centuries ago. This is going to be a tedious and costly war, even if we win.

The predators had endured a hailstorm of fire, and pressed nearer to the base all the same. No matter how many of their brethren were reduced to scrap, they persevered. Watching the humans’ fearlessness, I couldn’t help but envy their natural disposition. They shrugged off losses with that callous disregard for life they were so famed for.

We felt our casualties. That was the Federation’s downfall against the Arxur. It was emotion that lost us the war. Predators saw only the mission; the kill.

“Captain, we have to do something,” Jemic growled.

I flicked my ears. “It’s too late. They’re almost within orbital range.”

While the Gojid defenses could deal with the humans handily, they wouldn’t win the race against time. The predators could survive just long enough; pesky monsters. Sensing that their goal was within reach, our opponents found a final burst of speed. The lead bombers dispensed their payloads, and cylindrical missiles homed in on the asteroid’s surface. I braced myself for the inevitable aftermath.

The Gojid patrollers lunged forward in desperate pursuit, but they were already too late. Explosions detonated across the complex, tearing through the expansive stone buildings. Flame enveloped anything in the explosions’ proximity; smoke plumes bushed up within the artificial atmosphere.

Hangar roofs caved in, and buried any ships we failed to get off the ground. The powerful laser was out of commission too, since our orbital defenses were tucked in the center of the base. Bunkers and training areas were pummeled into submission. I wondered how many servicemen were trapped beneath the rubble.

The humans followed up their first volley with another barrage. There was no pause or emotion; though I don’t know why I thought there would be. The subsequent explosions ensured that nothing was standing, and reduced any likelihood of survivors.

The horror on the bridge was a choking atmosphere. Amidst my grief, I couldn't help but feel responsible for this calamity. Our local garrison could have stopped them, if there had been a few more ships at our disposal.

Why are the humans not turning toward the colony? They’re alive, and I think still have some bombs. They should come to us, any minute now.

The predator ships dipped away, but were unable to shrug off their pursuers. The Terrans branched off on individual courses; they knew we couldn’t chase after all of them. Some of those vile creatures would escape…wait.

I shook my head in disbelief. They can’t be leaving.

“The humans did exactly what they said!” My head swiveled in the direction of the voice. It was that unruly comms analyst from earlier. “They never intended to attack any civilians.”

“They just annihilated a military base, and that’s your reaction?” I snarled.

“None of the evidence suggests that they wanted to. We forced their hand,” the technician growled.

I glowered at the scene in the stars, considering the predators’ departure. What more evidence did one need, beyond looking at their faces? Their bloodstained history was just the icing on the cake, confirming what our eyes already knew.

The humans could be faking a retreat, to lull us into a false sense of security. The bombers were still within close range of the asteroid, and it would take them awhile to escape the system. Their strategy could be to double back, after we assumed they were leaving.

That, or our considerable presence by the colony dissuaded them from heeding their impulses. These creatures were more intelligent, and slightly more self-aware than the Arxur; they must have recognized that they were outmatched. That was a sufficient explanation, wasn’t it?

I forced myself to lower my hackles. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Rumi.”

“Rumi? I respect your drive to question everything, even common knowledge, but this isn’t the right cause to fight for. If humans were a species of any merit, do you think that the Federation would’ve dug up some argument to spare them? In decades of study?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it; that goes to anyone agreeing with the young man here. And yes, we did force their hand. We forced the humans to concede civilian targets, because of our overwhelming force.”

“How so? We’re in the wrong place.”

“We’re in the right place. Our presence deterred the humans from attacking anything else. Everyone should be proud of themselves today. We saved twenty thousand lives.”

Rumi slumped his shoulders. “If you say so.”

I imagine our allies had grown as restless as my crew. Seeing that the promise of the humans raiding the colony wasn’t panning out, some captains may be tempted to pursue the fleeing ships. Sensors indicated that many were gearing up their drives, and that our meticulous formation was dissolving.

Now was not the time for this. The predators were still in system; all we needed was a few minutes of patience to save the colony.

I leaned over my microphone. “Gojid vessels, hold your positions! Do not let the humans bait you into weakening our defense.”

“I’m not just sitting here, dammit.” A voice pierced through our encrypted military channel. “We are going to attempt search-and-rescue, and render medical assistance to anyone alive.”

My eyes darted about the viewport, searching for any signs of movement. A Gojid hospital craft had crept away from our ranks, and commenced a blazing run toward the base. Its course placed it directly in the path of an escaping human. Sensors read that the Terran ship had target-locked the vessel, and their weapons were charging.

“Turn back now!” I pleaded into the comms. “You won’t be rescuing anyone if you’re turned to slag. I’ll escort you myself when the humans are gone.”

The first responders pressed forward in defiance, and diverted their central power to shields. The fleeing predator hurled a plasma round, which deflected off our ship’s nose. The medical transport seemed shaken by the contact, though it refused to turn back. The distance between them and those things was narrowing.

This was lunacy! What were those Gojid doctors thinking? I admired their commitment to saving lives, but they were setting up the exact scenario I feared.

“Abort!” I shrieked into the communicator, broadcasting the message on all frequencies this time. “Gojid medical vessel, turn back at once. The predators will destroy you.”

There was no reply from the Gojid first responders. They were unarmed, which meant they stood no chance in combat. Worse, the Terran ship might’ve heard my plea, and realized what an easy target they stumbled upon. I waited to see the doctors blasted to bits, feeling pity swell in my chest.

On the bright side, at least it would drill some sense into Rumi, and whoever else was swayed by him. The expressions around the bridge were finally the ones I recognized from our face-offs with the Arxur.

For some inexplicable reason, the human ship hesitated. Sensors suggested that their weapons were powering down, and they were altering their course to avoid a collision. I was certain my eyes deceived me, as the primates allowed the medical ship to pass their position.

“What about that, Captain? What could they possibly gain?” Rumi hissed.

I chewed at my claws, rattled to the core. Allowing a vessel to survive, that aimed to resuscitate enemy combatants, was in direct opposition to the predators’ goals. Why would those abominations exhibit mercy? That was the exact brand of illogical softness we were mocked for, by the Arxur.

But accepting any explanation that mandated emotion was out of the question. There had to be an ulterior motive at play. There just had to be! Like I told the crew, the Federation condemned humanity by unanimous vote; they wouldn’t make that decision lightly. Perhaps I wasn’t looking at the big picture.

The humans need the Venlil for now. They can’t afford to alienate their lone ally, when they’re so behind technologically, I soothed myself. Tarva must’ve sent someone to supervise, and so they managed to show restraint. They’re biding their time.

Alarm flashed through Rumi’s body language, as he saw me struggling to formulate a response. The doctor rolled his eyes in disgust, and turned to address us all.

“They wanted to preserve ammunition, when they realized the ship wasn’t a threat,” Zarn answered for me. “Humans are pragmatic enough to override their sadism, when it comes to their own survival.”

“Quite possible.” I managed to keep my voice steady. The predators were doing an excellent job messing with my head, if nothing else. “Whatever game the humans playing at, we know their true colors. We always have...and we always will.”