The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Federation Fleet Command

Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2136

Our van cruised along the multi-lane highway, granting me a perfect view of the passing scenery. The road was packed with cars, with light signals governing the traffic flow. The humans were more enterprising and entertainment-driven than I anticipated. Intermittent signs advertised shops, restaurants and hangouts. Dwellings were mostly tucked away on side streets, away from the hustle-and-bustle of traffic.

Earth is not as harrowing as I expected. There’s not a single sign of violence or corpses lying around. It’s just people, going about their lives.

We were en route to a refugee camp, per the Terran government’s request. Despite their best efforts, humans lacked knowledge of our basic biology and necessities. They also were having difficulty getting any Gojids to speak to them…for obvious reasons.

The predators asked whether I would be willing to provide guidance, and assist communication with the more frightened individuals. My attorney noted that there was nothing offered in return, but I was happy to help my people. The few thousand that were left, anyways.

Anton leaned in. “Remember, this is a test to see if you’ll cooperate. You need all the goodwill you can get here. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The lawyer looked nervous sitting next to me, even with the cuffs around my forepaws. An ankle monitor was also strapped to one leg, suppressing my circulation. The predators didn’t trust me not to run off, the second I tasted fresh air. If I intended to flee, why would I have flown a ship into the heart of their territory?

There were two UN officers at the front of the vehicle, wearing matching artificial pelts. The primates’ skin must be sensitive to light, with how they wore extensive garments at all times. Their eyes barely left me; the constant tracking meant my spines hadn’t settled for the hours-long ride. The build-up of fear chemicals was dizzying.

I coughed. “Uh, guard predators. C-can…I say something, if I, um…think that my people are b-being mistreated?”

One of the officers, named Samantha, gave a curt nod. “Yes. You may.”

“If you have any ideas for cultural elements that are missing, that’s acceptable as well,” the other soldier, Carlos, growled. “We know nothing of your religions or customs.”

That old anxious habit of chewing at my claws cropped up again. The most popular deity worshipped in our systems was the Great Protector, a nature spirit that warded off predators. I never believed in such nonsense myself; judging by how the Arxur terrorized us, there was no one safeguarding our cradle.

Probably shouldn’t tell literal predators that our higher power is supposed to keep their kind away. I doubt they’d let Gojids exercise patronage to her, once they discover that.

My faint curiosity wondered what sorts of beliefs the Terrans were governed by. Carlos’ words implied that they did have religions, which must shape their society’s morality. Perhaps their gods offered wisdom such as only killing when necessary, and giving their quarry swift deaths? That could explain their prey-like conventions on prisoners and warfare.

Our van paused by a secured gate, where more humans waved it into a large paved area. The vehicle parked itself by a hangar bay, and the operators switched off the ignition. The UN soldiers stalked around to open the rear hatch.

A dark corner of my mind fed me awful ideas about what condition the Gojid refugees were in. What if the predators lost patience with the more fearful individuals while we were in transit? What if being around this many prey animals at once stirred the humans’ appetite, even if they didn’t want it to? This had to be a massive temptation.

“What are you waiting for, Sovlin?” Samantha waved a hand impatiently. “Get a move on it.”

Anton snaked his fingers around my wrist, steadying me as I stumbled out of the van. The predator’s skin was slick and oily; the touch sent a shudder through my veins. I tried to use my surroundings to ground myself, and forget about my proximity to the Terran.

There were no hints of any pens, suspicious contraptions, or butchering tools. This appeared like the helpful facility the predators proclaimed it to be. Thousands of Gojids were milling about, while humans lingered by designated assistance tents. The largest line was at a station labelled for locating loved ones.

“You can’t have gotten many people off planet,” I muttered. “Why give them hope?”

Carlos crossed his arms. “Such a cynic. If we reunite a handful of friends or family, then it’s worth it.”

The female guard shook her head in disapproval as well. She fished a yellow object out of her pocket, and tugged down the outer skin. The soft flesh below had to be from a plant, judging by the lack of eyes, limbs, or blood. Was she offering me food? I wasn’t hungry.

To my bewilderment, Samantha took a bite out of the clasped vegetation. The seeds in the half-eaten object confirmed that it was a fruit, rather than any animal organ. This predator was chowing down on prey snacks, right before my eyes! I thought it might be curiosity what our food tasted like, but she seemed too bored for it to be interest.

Marcel could have eaten fruit? I thought the only way to feed him was to sacrifice a crew member, I mused, with a guilty pang. Stars, are these humans even predators at all?

Samantha’s forward-facing eyes locked on me. “Why are you looking at me like that?!”

“You…you eat plants?” I squeaked.

Anton nodded. “We’re omnivores, Sovlin. Humans can eat meat, but that’s not the main part of our diet.”

“Umnuver?” I struggled to pronounce the tonal word, since no equivalent existed in my language. “Okay. Uh, sorry for gawking. M-maybe just show me something you want my help with?”

Carlos steered me toward a large dormitory, palming his chin in thought. This predator had strange green markings across his arm. Was that some sort of customary brand, for males in their service? Maybe it was a way of denoting his kill count, or ancestral heritage? The olive-skinned human didn’t notice me studying him, which was a relief.

The male guard checked that no Gojids were watching, before pointing to the far end of the bunks. “See that group huddling over there? How they seem to be protecting that chap with the beige claws?”

“What about it?” I answered.

“That guy they’re shielding has been unresponsive to any of our orders,” Samantha chimed in. “Completely ignoring us.”

Carlos nodded. “Which isn’t the issue. Lots of Gojids haven’t been very cooperative, because they’re afraid or otherwise. But this particular fellow, it’s like everyone tries to get him away as quickly as possible.”

“So what? You, um, want me to get this one to listen to you? I can’t guarantee I can do that.”

The predator shook his head. “Just find out why they’re hiding him. If he’s a celebrity, a religious leader, a politician…I don’t know. If he’s important to you all, we can give him special treatment.”

The Gojid in question wasn’t anyone that I recognized. If I didn’t know him, it was unlikely he was famous enough that large percentages of our people would pick him out. A suspicion flickered in my mind, that this one had some sort of disability.

Everyone knew that predators practiced the “survival of the fittest” maxim of nature. The humans had ample emotions, but would they knowingly expend resources on a deficient individual? Someone with a permanent handicap wouldn’t be helpful for rebuilding our species, to the predatory mindset. Surely, they’d want that trait wiped out of the gene pool.

Humans probably would think they’re doing us a favor, with how limited our numbers are. They’d never understand why we nurse an individual who cannot care for themselves, or can never live a normal life.

“Er, I’ll check in,” I growled. “Don’t come with me. Nobody will talk to you.”

Samantha tossed the finished fruit peel into a waste bin. “Fine. Don’t try to run. That band on your ankle will tell us where you are.”

My conscience was torn, as I wandered over to the group. While I owed the predators an immense debt, one I could never atone for, sacrificing another person’s life felt immoral. Perhaps I should have just refused to help; if I didn’t know anything, it couldn’t be used against the poor guy.

A Gojid female watched my approach, and pointed a claw at me. “Stop. What do you want?”

I halted in my tracks. “Is the young man there alright? Have the predators done something to him?”

“Nothing like that,” she muttered. “Why should we trust you? You just came with a bunch of their soldiers. We saw you go through the checkpoint.”

“I’m a high-ranking Gojid officer that was taken prisoner during the war.” The words were automatic, as if some other persona jumped behind the wheel. “The second they released me, I’m doing what I can to help…under the circumstances. You might know me; my name is Captain Sovlin.”

Her eyes widened. “The Sovlin? It’s an honor, sir. Um, I’m Berna, and the silent one’s Talpin.”

“Nice to meet you. May I ask again what the issue is?”

“Tal is deaf. He can’t hear any of the predators’ commands, and they’re starting to get belligerent. We’re trying to guide him, but it’s a matter of time before they figure it out.”

“How long do you think you can keep them in the dark? The humans aren’t stupid.”

“A few days, at most. But every hour we keep my brother alive is worth it to me.”

I studied the deaf Gojid, noticing the confusion plastered across his features. A burning feeling crawled into my throat. The length of Talpin’s lower spines suggested that he had just reached adulthood. This teenager had so much of his life ahead of him, and his family circle would mourn his loss immensely.

The UN soldiers were waiting, expecting a full report. Yes, it was a single life to earn the humans’ favor; one that would be terminated soon anyways. But there were so many fatalities on my conscience. As it were, that count was more than I could live with.

I couldn’t let another person die because of me. Not a single one. The Terrans would resent my disobedience, but any threats paled in comparison to a novel source of guilt.

“I understand. I suggest that you lay low as possible,” I said with a soft tone. “Take care of yourselves.”

Talpin waved at me, blissfully ignorant to the dilemma in my mind. I shuffled back toward the predators, while a choking sickness clamped down on my stomach. Their hideous eyes searched mine for any clues. Carlos barked a question, but the translated meaning was lost beneath my swirling thoughts.

“Sovlin? Talk to me, buddy.” Anton patted my shoulder, and I flinched at the contact. “You look shaken up. What’s the matter?”

Samantha narrowed her eyes. “What did they tell you? If there’s a threat, we can try to de-escalate the situation. That is part of our training, you know.”

“I’m sorry. N-no one is in danger. But I can’t tell you,” I whimpered.

“What do you mean, ‘You can’t tell us?!’” the female predator hissed.

“Your reaction could be drastic. I can’t get someone else killed…no matter how b-bad I feel about Marcel. Just throw me back in my cell, okay? Please.”

She blinked. “Nobody is getting killed. Have humans ever displayed violence toward you? Either you trust us to conduct ourselves with kindness and compassion, or you haven’t reformed at all. Pick one.”

“I…I don’t know. Shit, I don’t know!”

“Sovlin, we are trying to help these people. You have my word that no harm will befall any of them. Not unless there is zero alternative,” Carlos growled.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Feeling empathy was a far cry from the altruistic disregard of genealogy. Humans wouldn’t be a strong, warrior species without making a few logical sacrifices. It might stupefy them, that we burdened ourselves with so-called debility. Would honor be enough to compel the predator guards to spare Talpin?

The lawyer jostled my arm again. “You’re panicking. I can see that. Whatever predator nonsense you all are convinced of, it’s dead wrong. We are nothing like the Arxur.”

“Yes, but…he’s deaf!” I blurted.

The humans recoiled. All of their expressions seemed stunned, from how their eyebrows shot up toward their hairline. I don’t think that possibility even crossed their mind. Why would it, when they would never engage in such an impractical undertaking themselves?

Shit, what have I done? You couldn’t keep your fat mouth shut, and let a teenager live his final days in peace? I berated myself. You’re a weak-minded, selfish asshole, Sovlin. You should’ve spaced yourself back on your ship.

Samantha scratched her head. “Was that so hard? I think I can take care of this.”

The UN guards stalked toward the group, and I tailed behind them in mute horror. My brain was screaming at them to stop, but I couldn’t muster the words. The self-hatred reached a new high; my will to live felt depleted. Were the predators going to take Talpin away from his family? Execute him in front of the watching crowd?

The female human approached, without drawing her weapon, and gestured toward the deaf youth. Talpin screeched, as he saw the armed predators’ attention on him. With bristling spines, he tried to crawl under his bunk. The Gojid cluster gaped at me with looks of absolute betrayal; tears swelled in my eyes.

“How could you, Sovlin?!” Berna jumped between the Terrans and her brother, flexing her claws in defiance. “I thought you were a hero! A man who would die for our planet.”

I collapsed to my knees, hugging my chest. “I’m so sorry. I…I trusted them.”

“P-please, don’t kill him, predators. I’ll give you whatever you want!” the sister protested.

Samantha dropped to one leg. “We’re not going to hurt anyone. Can he understand me now?”

She made a series of animated gestures, concurrent with her speech. Talpin watched her with a blank stare, trembling. Her clawless fingers curled in strange motions, but they didn’t seem random. My misery gave way to confusion, as I tried to understand what she was doing. Was this some non-verbal form of communication?

That’s not hunger or disgust in her eyes, I don’t think.

“Sign language,” Carlos explained, spotting my bafflement. “It’s how deaf people communicate on our planet. Do your translators work on it?”

“N-no. Only audible language; that’s why tail s-signals don’t translate,” I stammered.

The female predator lowered her hands. “Dammit. Please tell him we’re going to find a way to talk to him, Gojids. Ask him for a little patience.”

Berna gaped at the UN soldiers. “Okay? Thank you.”

My mind was spinning. The humans created an entire gesture language for those who lacked hearing? Did that mean that they catered to other ailments too; that individuals like Talpin could live normal lives? This suggested the limits of their nurturing went much farther than I imagined.

The Arxur would have considered any hindered offspring as prey, lumping it in the same category as their food. Then again, they abandoned their children days after birth, whereas Marcel spoke as if humans kept contact with their progeny. With their empathetic behavior toward our younglings, I couldn’t imagine they left their kids to fend for themselves.

“I don’t understand. You speak a language for deaf people, but you can hear?” I murmured.

Samantha raised her shoulders briefly. “My brother is deaf. Was from birth.”

Berna’s eyes widened. “Your parents reared a deficient offspring? Reworked their whole lives for it…kept it?”

“What the fuck? Of course they ‘kept’ him!” she spat.

The Gojid flinched. “S-sorry. Shit, I meant no offense, predator. I thought you’d care about individual contributions.”

“There are more ways to enhance society than by being the pinnacle of physical perfection.” Anton met my gaze, though replying to Berna. It was like he knew my thoughts followed a similar track. “One of our greatest astrophysicists was a quadriplegic for decades; fully dependent on the care of others, unable to talk without a speech synthesizer. Brilliant man.”

I twisted my claws, pondering their words. Though I regretted my behavior toward Marcel, my understanding of humans was limited to the scope of my prior knowledge. Zarn had spoken in ghastly detail about their cruelty and malice. Our briefing videos encapsulated those heinous acts, and confirmed the unthinkable level of viciousness abiding within them.

Even in Terran domain, all I see is compassion. Where is the humanity that the Federation saw? Wouldn’t such a brutish nature shine through, somewhere?

Seeing their redeeming qualities, such as how they were capable of empathy, was a start. However, these primates were nothing at all like any scientist predicted. Predators’ entire purpose in an ecosystem was to weed out the weak. They were natural selection itself!

“You’re quite right, humans. You are nothing like the Arxur,” I admitted.

“We’re not. We want you to help us beat them, Sovlin, but the UN needed to see that you trust us first.” A hard glint flashed in Carlos’ brown eyes. “I’m satisfied that your remorse is genuine. What do you say we spend a few hours here, then we talk shop?”

“That translated as, um, discussing work?”

“Touché. We’re drumming up plans to take the fight to the Arxur, and to bring whatever is left of your cradle back into our hands. Would you be willing to look them over? Perhaps serve alongside us?”

I realized that, in spite of my visceral reaction to their features, I almost liked these humans. They had a certain charisma, when they articulated their lofty intentions. Our cradle would be little more than rubble now, but its symbolism counted for something.

A few thousand Gojids might’ve survived in bunkers, and these strange predators were their last hope. The UN was giving me a chance to offset a fraction of the damage I'd caused. That wasn't the sort of offer I could pass up.

“There’s nothing I’d like more. Count me in.”