The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: September 10, 2136

Two patrol ships rushed to intercept our transport the second we crossed the Zurulian border. There was none of the warmth in their greeting that I craved.

I hoped that dodging Gojid territory would lower the temperature of any interactions, but word traveled quickly. Our neighbors possessed a keen awareness that the Venlil had thrown in our lot with predators. We were guilty by association now. I assured the Zurulians of my diplomatic intent, and decided not to mention the human’s presence until we reached our destination.

After several back-and-forth conversations, the guards received permission to escort us to the summit. I suspect they wouldn’t have allowed it if they knew a human and a traitor were the other two passengers. The Federation chaperones were diligent, tailing us through subspace for the duration of the days-long trip.

I still don’t know how I’m going to convince them to let a predator play politics. Maybe I should just wing it?

Our transport was midway through its descent now, plunging through the host planet’s atmosphere. It was apparent what Recel meant by returning home. The Kolshian home world, Aafa (a name that translates to ‘garden’), was hosting the convention in its capital. It would require great care not to incite a stampede, with the crowd I anticipated.

Millions of residents dwelled among artistic buildings and botanical wonders; the renowned School of the Flora meant Aafa had a large student population. There would be ample spectators at the governing hall, since such sessions were open to the public. If a predator was reported on the loose, the premises might be vacated or locked down.

I wondered if the nearest civilians would be rushed to bunkers, the way I had done when the humans approached my planet. It seemed silly, in retrospect: sending out a planetary distress signal over a two-person vessel. Someday, I was going to tell Noah that I intended to surrender Venlil Prime to him. The Terran ambassador would have a hearty laugh at my expense.

“This is Governor Tarva. I reiterate my request to speak to the presiding chieftain immediately. It is urgent!” I transmitted, for the fourth time.

My designated strategy was to hail the Federation over the media channels, so that if anything went wrong, the public could hold them accountable. Recel was sandwiched beside me, in order to appear on our video feed. The Kolshian officer couldn’t stop yawning; his orange eyes were bleary from sleep-deprivation. I was amazed he hadn’t nodded off from exhaustion, regardless of his instincts.

Noah was preoccupied editing the first contact materials the UN had thrown together. The predator seemed uncharacteristically nervous. I knew he wanted to paint a rosy picture of humanity, and to include anything that might help their cause.

Wasn’t he displaying that ‘closed body language’ he explained to me long ago? Maybe I was projecting my feelings onto him, since I was terrified about what would happen to him next.

“He’s signing on now. Please, be patient,” came the monotone reply. “Your favor here is strained as things are, Governor.”

I was aware of the fact that our ship was target-locked; that wasn’t exactly standard procedure for an approaching diplomat. A large security force was present to ward off any Arxur attacks, in case they got a whiff of the convention’s location. The Federation couldn’t afford to have every galactic leader killed in a decapitation strike.

We’re not part of the Federation anymore, are we? I realized, with a pang of sorrow. The Venlil are public enemy number one. I’m probably going to be offering our withdrawal today…if they don’t kick us out first.

The Terran ambassador clapped his hands together, in what I believed was satisfaction, and jolted me out of my thoughts. Recel whined at the unexpected movement, and the human dipped his head in an apology.

“All set, Tarva,” Noah whispered. “Send it over.”

I tapped a button on my holopad, uploading the data cache to the local internet. The compilation documented everything that had transpired since first contact. It also went over humanity’s surprising ability to form attachments, and the cultural nuances the Federation overlooked in past research. That was the narrative I wanted to circulate.

I shared the file wherever I thought it could get traction; social media, discussion boards, and private messages to reporters. With any luck, a few figures in the media would pick it up and ignite a public discourse. Even if they were laughing at the notion, it would introduce viewers to the idea of a friendly predator.

“You!” A Kolshian with indigo coloration appeared on screen, and I recognized him as the senior Chief Nikonus. A scowl marred his features as he spotted the officer beside me. “We heard what you did, Recel. Shooting your own captain, and releasing a predator?”

“There were extenuating circumstances. Recel is remanding himself to your custody,” I said.

Nikonus squinted at the video feed. “You look terrible. The guilt must be eating you alive.”

The treasonous officer pawed at his eyes. “No…I just can’t sleep a wink trapped with this creature. It’s not his fault…he covered his eyes for the entire ride, he’s tried staying out of sight…but knowing that he’s present…”

“Creature? What is Recel babbling about, Tarva?” the Kolshian leader growled.

“Don’t freak out, okay? Please.” I turned the camera toward the masked predator, who flailed his hand in front of him. “There is Noah; the third and final passenger on our ship. He wants to speak to all of you.”

Chief Nikonus’ eyes bulged. “Is that…”

“A human. Yes.”

“Why would you bring a predator here? Are you trying to set it loose on us?!”

“All we want is to talk. You’re about to attack his planet. Shouldn’t you hear from this supposedly evil species first, before you make a permanent decision? Doesn’t he have a right to defend himself?”

“Absolutely not. If you weren’t on that vessel, Governor, I’d order it shot down!”

There was no hesitation from the Kolshian host, which wasn’t a promising sign. Would Nikonus even allow our ship to land at all? What would deter them from gunning Noah down, the second he set foot in the station?

“You permitted us entry, before you knew of the human’s presence,” I pleaded. “Do the Venlil have a right to address the galaxy?”

The Chief flared his nostrils. “You have a right to speak, and to state your version of events on record. You’re still a member of the Federation… at least, for now.”

“Well, I wish for Noah to speak in my stead, and to be treated with the same rights as a Venlil citizen. Look in my eyes. I consider him one of my own.”

“You have snapped, Tarva! There’s millions of people down here, who don’t want that thing to set foot in our capital. Some of us still value our lives.”

“It’s one predator versus all of you. You have him well outnumbered.”

“I can’t let a dangerous beast into the governing chamber. What’s to stop it from eating the nearest leader on television? To stand and gloat about the taste of our children’s blood?”

“He won’t.”

“But what if it does?”

“Then you’ll have documentation of what humanity was like, when the Federation is asked by future generations why we made this decision,” Recel interjected. “But I’m telling you, these predators are more civilized than they look.”

“Please, Nikonus. Let Noah say what he’s come here to say. You don’t want people to think you have something to hide, do you? What harm can a few words do?”

“Ugh. It can speak for five minutes, and not a second longer. If it so much as stares at anyone the wrong way or stumbles in its footing, it will be shot.” The Kolshian chief waved a tentacle assertively. “Nor will I pledge for its safety after that time frame, even if it complies. Understand?”

Five minutes was hardly enough to break the ice, let alone cover everything in humanity’s arsenal. It was a farce of a trial to appease the Venlil; after which, the Federation could rush to a summary judgment. Noah’s body language betrayed little emotion, but he gave me a nod to signal his acceptance of the terms.

I flicked my ears with forced politeness. “We accept. And if you’re interested in objectivity, parse through the data dump. That goes to anyone listening. I’ve uploaded it to social media under my credentials, explaining what we’ve learned since first contact.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Tarva. I have a lot of preparations to make. Do not disembark until my next transmission.”

The Kolshian presider cut off the call, uninterested in waiting for my acknowledgement. That could’ve gone better…but it also could’ve gone much worse. Recel collapsed into the nearest seat, while I turned back to the pilot’s console. We were moments away from arrival, and had just cleared the spaceport overhang.

The ship touched down under my supervision, slipping its tendrils into the docking port. A thud hummed through the walls, and the engine commenced its cooldown process. I breathed a sigh of relief. The Kolshians allowed us to complete our landing sequence, which was half of the challenge.

The terminal was adjoined to the governance hall, similar to the reception lawn we had on Venlil Prime. I was pleased to see media personnel and cameras, all trying to catch a glimpse of the predator diplomat. Non-essentials hadn’t been evacuated; not yet, anyway. My play, to talk where everyone could hear us, had paid off.

The more eyes on this whole debacle, the better.

Noah peeked through the window. Knowing him, the ambassador was itching to survey the alien scenery. A red dot appeared on his forehead, and I screamed at him to get down. The predator dropped to the floor with lightning-quick reflexes.

The human removed his mask for a moment, clearly short of breath. Those binocular eyes must be lost in a thousand-yard stare beneath that visor; he laid on the floor in silence for several minutes. I think he was worried if he stood up, the Federation was going to kill him. A trigger-happy shooter could take him out in a heartbeat.

Recel studied the predator, as he held his head in his hands.

“What are you thinking, human?” the disgraced officer asked.

Noah snorted. “I’m wondering how the Arxur were ever uplifted, when it’s obvious your hatred for predators is so strong.”

“Things would’ve been different for humanity if you were the first ones we found. We uplifted dozens of species before them, without issue,” Recel explained. “We wanted to accept all sentients.”

“But all the research you did suggested the Arxur were different. Did prey species fight wars, Recel?”

“Not in the way you do. Our wars were over limited resources; for survival, when there wasn’t enough to go around. It wasn’t about power, ideology, or bloodshed. That’s why we thought we could fix the grays.”

I pinned my ears against my head. “We were naïve and stupid, but I miss the species we were then. Maybe we deserved what happened to us, because of our weakness.”

“Of course not! I just don’t understand how they took on you all at once.” Noah pursed his lips, and dragged himself back to a sitting position. “Even with your help, there’s no way we could steamroll the entire galaxy.”

Recel stifled a yawn. “We had nothing to defend ourselves with then. The only survivors from that sector of space are the species that ran. We didn’t understand what was happening.”

“But why didn’t you have any defenses?” the predator asked. “You never even considered the possibility of being attacked? No preparation or contingency?”

“You don’t understand, because you’ve never known peace. Why would you have planetary defenses when all sapients get along, as a rule? Why would you have warships if you never intended to use them? Humans had a… very different experience on your world.”

I swiveled my ears down, and allowed their conversation to float into the background. The last thing I wanted at a time like this was to discuss a topic as grim as war, especially when I’m sure Noah had stories that could traumatize me. There was no harm in closing my eyes, just for a few seconds…

The world fizzled away, and my mind dissolved into the dark ocean of slumber.

“Tarva, wake up.” Noah’s visor was inches away from my face; I almost headbutted him when I jerked upright. “The Kolshians told us we can leave the ship. It’s time.”

It appeared that Recel had already fled from the craft, which didn’t surprise me. If I was a betting woman, I’d wager he was thrilled to be out in fresh air. Back on his own turf, even though it spelled catastrophe for him. The Kolshian officer didn’t want to be confined with a human any longer than necessary.

I wonder what will happen to Recel. He’s going to have several counts of treason stacked against him, I mused. The Kolshians could hang him ten times over, if they want to.

The human hoisted me to my paws, and half-carried me over to the exit hatch. I leaned on him even after I regained my bearings, reluctant to let go. There was no telling what the Federation would do when we disembarked this ship; we knew for a fact that there were gunmen on standby.

We climbed down to the octagonal terminal together, and I struggled to read my surroundings. Dazzling lights were pointed straight at us, likely intended to blind the predator. Noah winced, and brought a hand toward his eyes to soften the blow. The human must be grateful to have the tinted visor to shield his vision.

I turned my head to the side, so that the glare wasn’t head-on. Kolshian soldiers were wrapping a trembling Recel in chains, and stuffed a gag in his mouth. One of the guards whipped him on the chin with a nightstick. They seemed to feel more vitriol toward him than the human.

“Oops,” the guard jeered. “My bad.”

The officer whimpered, but didn’t fight back against his captors. A pang of concern stabbed at my chest, as they dragged the violet-skinned Kolshian away. Then again, I suppose I should be more worried for Noah’s safety now. Recel still had time to assemble a proper defense, whereas the predator could be dead at a moment’s notice.

A Kolshian female raised a megaphone. “Human, take slow steps forward. Walk until we tell you to turn.”

The human crept forward in shuffling steps; it was obvious he was unsure of his footing. My guess was his eyes were shut all together. I curled my tail around Noah’s wrist, and steered him forward. His pulse raced; I could detect the hammering heartbeat through my fluffy tail. The camera lens’ zeroed in on me, no doubt stupefied that I would incite contact with such a creature.

The fact that Noah’s eyes were hidden probably helped our hosts keep their claws off the trigger. The soldiers directed us down a series of hallways, and I tried to look as relaxed as possible. The onlookers would attribute any fear to my proximity to the human. Optics were everything, at this point.

I wondered how the leaders would react, when we reached the governing chamber. The announcement of a human’s arrival must’ve come as a shock; that wasn’t what they imagined when they planned this visit. It was one thing to talk about a predator in the abstract, but another to see a waking nightmare in person.

The Terran ambassador better have a damn good speech at the ready. Somehow, I didn’t think the Federation gentry would welcome him with open arms.