The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136

If the sensor data was to be believed, the Federation warships were gunning to Venlil Prime at a blistering speed. Their hails seemed urgent, frantic even; they were resending the communication request every few seconds. I had never seen such a harried response, but it made sense.

Venlil Prime enjoyed a strategic location, nestled in the galaxy’s outer arm. It was a fair distance away from Arxur space, so it was difficult for them to execute a surprise assault. Not to mention that it was a key supply route for our troops and a launch-point for rim patrols. Losing such an outpost would be a major setback for the Federation.

As we accepted the hail, I was surprised to recognize the face on screen. It was Captain Sovlin, from the powerful Gojidi Union. He had risen to galactic fame after leading a valiant charge to break an Arxur siege on his home world. Typically, the Federation would just send the nearest available assets, but this time, they’d scrounged up someone competent.

“Governor Tarva.” The relief was plain on Sovlin's face, as he realized that we were alive. “We’re here to assist. What is the reason for your distress?”

The humans were waiting in the wings, just out of view of the camera. Sara jotted something down on her notepad; she seemed to be sketching the new alien before her. A pang of guilt stabbed at my chest, as I realized my instincts were still abuzz. Seeing them out of the corner of my eyes was making my skin crawl. The way they craned their heads to look at the screen…it was sickening.

“I see the Federation sent their finest,” I said. “The Venlil Republic expresses our sincere gratitude for your response. Unfortunately, you’ve come all this way for no reason.”

“By galactic law, that signal is only to be used for an extinction level event. You owe us an explanation. A good one,” the Gojid growled. “Did you deal with…the problem on your own?”

“There was no problem.”

Sovlin blinked several times. “I’m sorry?”

“It was a false alarm. Our sensors malfunctioned due to a software update.”

“What did you think you saw?”

“We thought a pred—um, Arxur ship jumped into orbital range.”

“And you figured out that was false because?”

“There’s nothing up there on visual, Captain. Our backup sensors didn’t detect anything either. Not to mention, we’re still alive.”

The Gojid squinted at me, and I could tell he didn’t quite buy my story. Sensor malfunctions made themselves apparent quickly, due to the lack of corroborating evidence. He knew we should’ve rejected faulty data much faster than the span of a few hours. The sharp glint in his eyes told me he intended to sniff out the truth.

“Kam. You’re awfully quiet,” the Federation officer noted. “Do you have anything to add?”

“I don’t feel like talking.” The military advisor paused. His gaze was not focused on the screen, so I figured he was studying the humans out of his periphery. “Nothing to add anyways. Tarva said it all.”

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. With the extent to which Kam despised the visitors, I half-expected him to out them at the first opportunity. Had this call taken place a few minutes earlier, I suspect he would’ve turned the humans over. But their recent behavior must have impressed their sensitivity upon him too.

Sovlin scrutinized us, suspicion marring his features. “Why didn’t you rescind the distress signal? It’s still broadcasting now.”

“I forgot,” I replied.

“You forgot?!” The captain’s voice leapt up an octave, and he flicked his claws in disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Do you have any idea the systems we’ve exposed by coming here? While we’re chatting, a planet with a real fucking threat could be glassed.”

Well, at least he seemed to buy the story. The Gojid's anger was justified, in fairness. If the Arxur invaded our neighbors now, Federation forces wouldn’t be available to come to their defense.

“Sorry,” I offered meekly.

“Whatever. We’ll need to scan the subspace readings ourselves,” Sovlin said through gritted teeth. “For our logs.”

I swallowed. If the Federation took the measurements themselves, they’d find ample evidence of human activity. The realization that we were hiding predators would horrify a seasoned veteran like Sovlin. With the amount of exposure he had to the grays, he wouldn’t accept the possibility that predators could be more than animals. In all likelihood, he would assume we were acting under duress, no matter what we said. Ships would be requested to bombard Earth the second the trail was identified.

“That will not be acceptable. It’ll only waste more of your time and energy.” I straightened, and tried to make myself look confident. “There is no need for a formal survey. Is our word not enough for your report?”

“Standard protocol dictates—"

“People are freaked out enough from the false alarm. The last thing they need to see is a Federation armada, frolicking around in the atmosphere.”

“You called us, Tarva. I’m going to do my job, and then, I will leave.”

“You’ll leave now. Your ships are not welcome here. If you enter our orbit, you will be fired upon.”

Sovlin’s milky eyes glowed with hatred. “Go ahead then! Fire away. You wouldn’t dare.”

The indicators plotting out the armada’s position crept toward our homeworld, and I sighed in dismay. The last thing I wanted was to be trading missiles with our Federation allies, but we might not have a choice. It seemed that Sovlin would barge into our territory all the same, since he had the firepower to disregard our warning. He figured we’d give into simple, brutish intimidation.

I gave a few tail signals to Kam, indicating for him to detonate missiles just short of their formation. This was an irreversible step, firing upon our long-time allies. The Federation would, at best, abandon us in the fight against the Arxur. Was I damning our species to extinction? I mean, what were the chances that the humans would protect us? Hell, I still wasn’t positive they wouldn't drop the facade, the second this fleet was gone. We should be grateful if they didn’t murder us all themselves.

Captain Sovlin wrenched his claws in shock, as the computer warned him of inbound missiles. He barked at the crew to reverse course and divert power to shields. Then, he relayed orders to the rest of the fleet to fall back. I thought he’d forgotten the video call was open, until he shot a blistering glare at the camera.

“You SHOT AT US!” The Gojid stared at his weapons console, as though considering whether to return fire. “You actually shot at us. That’s an act of war.”

“That was a warning shot. We don’t want to hurt you, but we will,” I hissed.

“How can you be so ungrateful? After all that we’ve done for you,” he spat. “I’ll be recommending sanctions in my report. And the next time you call for help…we’ll let the grays eat you miserable fucks.”

The feed cut out abruptly, and I sank to the floor in relief. There would be hell to pay at the next Federation summit, but at least our mistake had been undone without bloodshed. It remained to be seen how the humans would reward our gamble; their body language betrayed little emotion. What if the astronauts were cross with us? We had plotted and nearly gone through with their execution, after all.

"They're gone." I turned to face the predators, and prayed that we made the right decision. "You're safe now."

Noah clasped his hands together. “Thank you, both of you. You didn’t have to protect us. I hope the consequences aren’t too severe…that guy sounded pissed.”

“Ha, it was worth it. Did you see the look on his face?” Kam chuckled.

Noah’s lips curved up, and a rumbling sound came from his chest. It sounded like growling, but my translator was insistent that it was laughter. The way predators conveyed emotion left a lot to be desired. My logical brain agreed with the machine, but my instincts weren’t as convinced.

Sara jabbed an elbow in her partner’s stomach. “What did they say about smiling?!”

“That hurt!” he protested. “I can’t help it. Kam made me laugh.”

The military advisor flicked his ears. “What can I say? I’m a funny guy.”

“Funny or not, Sovlin wasn’t playing. The Gojids have a lot of pull with the Federation,” I muttered. “We just burned a serious bridge.”

“Can you patch things up down the road?” Sara asked.

“After decades of groveling? Sure.” I sighed, shaking my head. “But enough of that. We need to talk.”

The female predator nodded. “What about?

“First off, do you still want to be here? We’ve been terrible hosts. I understand if you rescind your offer of friendship, after what we put you through.”

“It takes more than that to scare us off, Tarva. I’m happy we could work through our differences together.”

Sara was well-spoken, same as her partner, but I couldn’t shake the lingering doubts. If our species were to make an honest attempt at friendship, disclosure of Arxur history was a must. A secret that abhorrent couldn’t fester between us, especially when it would be the subtext of all our interactions.

When the humans learned what the Arxur had done, they would realize their own species’ untapped potential. The tales would trickle back to Terran leadership and circulate amongst the populace. What if it inspired them to take up the torch? It wasn’t too late to change their mind on harming us. How deep could a predator’s compassion run, anyways?

I drew a shaky breath. “We never answered your question, about the…first predators we encountered. I think we owe you a p-proper explanation.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Noah said in a soft tone. “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to talk about it.”

My resolve hardened as I met the male human’s eyes. I recalled the horror in Noah’s voice, when Kam suggested they were here to kill us all. The feel of his rough thumb, wiping saline from my cheek. Those weren’t the actions of the Arxur. These were people, with intelligence and emotion.

“I want to. I want you to know everything.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Tarva?” Kam asked.

“Yes, I am. I have to believe that the humans are worth the risk we’re taking.” I could feel my heart rate accelerating, despite my confident words. The mere thought of the grays conjured fear and dread. “The first predators were the Arxur. The Federation has been at war with them for centuries.”

The male human raised an eyebrow. “All of you, against them?”

“And it’s not enough,” I responded. “Noah, they’ve hunted twenty percent of all sentient species to extinction. In this galaxy, anyways.”

His predatory eyes widened. “…why?!”

“They kill for pleasure. They want us to suffer.” I reached for my tablet, and pulled up a recent video the Arxur had sent us. “See for yourself.”

Noah pried the device out of my paws, and Sara leaned in to look at the footage. It depicted a group of Arxur guards, laughing as they released farm-raised Venlil pups from their pen. The reptilians wanted to hunt their meals. To watch their prey squirm in terror. The younglings had their eyes gouged out, and if they didn’t run fast enough to amuse the guards, they were prodded with an electric rod.

As the Arxur clubbed a pup repeatedly on screen, making sure to break all of its limbs first, I watched the humans’ reactions. At first, they seemed shocked, but then…their countenance morphed into something else. Their faces contorted into a mask of pure hatred: eyes dilated, lips curled back, neck veins bulging. There was the predator that had been concealed with such care. I was suddenly more inclined to believe that a “smile” was their friendly expression.

The humans either had a sudden desire to eat us, or were livid at the treatment of our people. I hoped it was the latter.

“This is how they treat prisoners? Children at that?” Sara asked.

Children at that. She seemed to implicitly understand that made it worse.

“Prisoners? No, that’s a farm.” Kam eyed the humans warily, but his tone had lost its edge. “The hardy species become slaves, the ones that taste good become food, and everyone else gets their planets blown to smithereens.”

Noah passed the tablet back to me. I flinched at the iciness in his glare.

“Send us everything you have on the Arxur,” he said. “There’s a human concept I’m sure Earth would love to teach them.”

I stared at the angry predator. “And…what is that concept, exactly?”

A toothy smile crossed Noah’s face. “We call it ‘karma.’”