The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps

Date [standardized human time]: August 21, 2136

The patrol ship drifted along the Federation border, dispelling fuel into the endless night. A brooding Marcel sat at the helm, under my supervision. Human pilots had no real-world experience flying ships; their only insight to interplanetary battles were clumsy simulations back home. Perhaps it was unfair to hurl them into the war out of desperation, as unprepared as they were.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the results of the experiments, and how revolutionary the findings would be when broadcast. Marcel bolted from the lab in a sweat-soaked stupor, and I made a judgment call to give him some time to regain his senses. In his absence, Ilja shared a cumulative AI analysis of all human subjects. A larger sample size was needed to validate the findings, but it was enough to put my mind at ease.

We had proof that humans felt empathy.

The predators were recorded doing things they claimed to enjoy as a baseline for pleasure: eating sugary snacks, listening to their favorite song, playing games, and so on. A variety of other metrics were assessed for comparison, including boredom and anger. Then, they were shown videos of the Arxur torturing our children.

Interestingly enough, the regions of their brain that were activated were most similar to the baseline for physical pain (which we determined through finger pricking). Some human participants were so disturbed by the videos that they had to leave the room. That even manifested itself in physical symptoms, such as elevated heart rate and vomiting.

Much to my relief, the restraints proved an unnecessary precaution. Venlil xenobiologists were worried that violent footage might trigger predatory instincts, and that humans could experience a lapse in control. They wanted to avoid having to put a Terran subject down, if they lashed out; it was best for everyone’s safety.

My gaze flickered over to Marcel, curiosity brimming in my chest. The human was evidently lost in thought as well. His face was bright red, as he cast a smoldering stare at the floorboards. I was worried he was going to rip his own hair out, with how he was tugging at the coarse auburn strands. Perhaps I should leave it alone, but I was dying to know his thoughts.

“If I may ask— what frightened you about our scientists?” I blurted out. “Did you really think they would hurt you? We don’t have the same disposition as you.”

“You’re going to laugh but…most of our old myths about aliens…um…”

“Yes?”

“Well, they involve us getting abducted and experimented on. Hey, for all I knew, you were testing how humans react to torture.”

“You think we’re that barbaric?! Our scientists just want to help you fit in. We need conclusive evidence of your empathetic capacity. Else, we’ll never silence the doubters.”

“I don’t see why we needed to prove, yet again, that we’re not the Arxur. Humans haven’t done anything to you.”

“You’re a contradiction of hundreds of years of scientific thought, Marc. Not to mention, certain groups in the Federation won’t like you, much more than us. They’ll demand proof, and I’m not sure even the finest scientific rigor will withstand their scrutiny. It’s not fair. I know.”

The human was silent, directing an intense glare at the scanner feed. The subspace readings were blank, with no indicators of activity beside our own. If there was anything to be gleaned, it wasn’t on an empty screen. Maybe the experiments had jarred something in his personality after all, because I never remembered him being so sullen online. If we needed to abandon the patrol and return to base, I’d like to know sooner rather than later. Before he endangered himself, or others.

“Are you alright?” I patted the human on the shoulder, and felt him stiffen beneath my paw. “I know that footage disturbed you…and I’m sorry.”

Marcel sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I’m furious, but not with you. I want to wring my hands around an Arxur’s neck.”

“I don’t see how that would improve anything.”

“At least I’d be doing something.”

“You’re here. You’re protecting us.”

“Yes. Someone has to put a stop to their reign of terror. There’s been no issue recruiting people back on Earth. The way the grays get off on tormenting children, it sickens us. Why are they like that?”

“I wanted to ask you that, Marc. We believed that predators evolve through warfare. Killing and cruelty—isn’t it a survival advantage to you?”

“Well…killing, yes. Killing the competition, or the dangerous things that lurk in the night; I suppose that’s how we became predators. We aren’t natural ones, you know. We were once prey animals, same as you, using our cooperation to survive.”

“What?! And you chose to be l-like them?!”

“Yep. I won’t pretend we’re cute and cuddly like you. Some people have walked ghastly paths throughout our history. There's plenty of blood on our hands. But in modern times, we have rules for war called the Geneva Conventions. The Arxur’s methods are dishonorable and pathetic.”

Before I could inquire as to the nature of these “Geneva Conventions”, shrill alarms blared from the ship’s computer. Nine indicators popped up on the scanner feed, suggesting inbound Arxur bombers. The flurry of activity, when the humans arrived, must have piqued their interest. The reptilians loved to target weak links, and an isolated station such as our lodging was just that.

There were countermeasures, developed over the centuries, but I didn’t know if they’d be sufficient today. Our onboard AI could map the enemy’s trajectory, then time a warp-disruptor pulse with that information. Once we knocked the grays out of hyperspace, our directive was to scamper off until reinforcements arrived. Slowing the Arxur’s progress bought valuable minutes, even without a confrontation. It could mean the difference between catastrophic loss of life and a successful defense.

I switched on the comms link. “Prime Outpost, we’re reading nine Arxur bombers en route. Figure they have you as their target.”

“Fuck. We have to stop them at all costs.” The exhaustion was evident in the male Venlil’s voice that answered. I couldn’t imagine how much stress the officers were under, monitoring the UN arrivals. “The first large transport of humans, and a couple hundred wind up dead? They’ll never forgive us. They’ll never send anyone again…”

“Um, sir, my human partner can hear you,” I said.

“Oh. Right. This is General Kam from Venlil Command, we copy you. I’ll ask the humans to position their so-called ‘fighters’ on an intercept course, while we evacuate personnel here. Stall for time if you can.”

I drew a shaky breath. “Yes, sir. We’ll do our best.”

Nausea swelled in my throat, as I synced the ship computer with the disruptor beacons lining the border. My mind strayed to its usual dark corner: replaying my brother’s funeral. The shock was still as fresh as it was months ago, when I first learned that his transport ship was gunned down. There wasn’t a trace left to remember him by; no body to recover.

Would I be the next to fall by the Arxur’s claws?

Every instinct told me to flee; to put as much distance between us and those monsters as possible. However, the pulses needed to be timed down to the nanosecond, which meant our proximity was a necessity. My brain felt overstimulated, as if my senses were set aflame.

Being around a human for hours…it’s pushed me to my limit. It’s hard to think, with my nerves all frazzled. I pondered with a tinge of guilt. How selfish I am. I haven’t even considered how Marc is feeling.

I hoped the wordless Marcel was okay with the peril we were in. He had loved ones back on Earth, including a fiancé whom he spoke of with fondness. He didn’t want to die here. There was no data on how the primates behaved in life-threatening situations, or how they coped with stress.

But with the grays closing in on our position, there was no time to explain our standard procedure. We thought there’d be time for our allies to settle in, before hurling them into the fire. Hopefully, humans had solid self-preservation instincts, and could use their cleverness to fill in the blanks. Those bombers were about to become quite real.

There were no visible signs of distortion as our pulse detonated. The AI’s calculation was silent and flawless. I’d liken FTL disruption to pulling a rug out beneath someone’s feet. The warp bubble burst in an instant, plunging the Arxur vessels into real space. No doubt it was disorienting for those hellspawn on board.

Watching their angular ships spring forth from nothingness would be a magical sight, if the stakes weren’t so dire. The bombers slowed to regain their bearings, and to scope out their surroundings. They wished to exact revenge on the prey animal who dared to fight back.

It was evident Arxur architects spared no thought for beauty. Plasma railguns jutted out on both flanks, perfect for slinging destructive volleys. Turrets for kinetic weapons dotted the armor, in case of a close-range engagement. The curvature of the underbelly provided storage for anti-matter missiles. I imagine the predators relished the terror their constructs instilled. Witnessing their fleet felt like peering into the jaws of death.

“Hideous ships, huh?” I quipped.

There was no reply from Marcel. I would suspect he froze in fear, if I hadn’t seen his hands tighten around the steering column. An uneasy feeling crept into my mind. Every creature handled stress differently, but his behavior was off by a long shot. C’mon Slanek. The grays are the threat here, I scolded myself. Not the human.

“Knock knock. Anyone home?” I tried to keep my voice playful, but I was desperate to snap the human out of his trance. “You do see their ships, and realize we’re alone? There is safety in numbers. It’s time to head back to base.”

Marcel leaned forward, fangs protruding in a menacing snarl. I noted with abject horror how his eyes dilated, and his canines glistened with saliva. If that was an expression of happiness, why was it appearing when our territory was under siege?

“Marc, we need to flee. Now.” I shook the human on the shoulder, but he shrugged me off. “Marc? Shit man, they definitely s-spotted us. MARCEL!! Floor it… I beg you.”

“EAT THIS MOTHERFUCKERS!” Marcel roared, disregarding me entirely.

The human did floor it: to charge in the direction of the Arxur fleet. What happened?! He went berserk; he was so lucid minutes ago!

I tried to scream a plea to stop, but it came out as an incoherent yelp. The predator either didn’t know how, or didn’t bother to prime the targeting system. He jammed a clawless finger on the firing trigger, spraying plasma rounds with impunity. The glaring aggression seemed to take the grays by surprise; it marked a drastic shift from a Venlil’s typical flightiness.

A few glancing blows struck the lead ship, jolting its pitch. One must have impacted the propulsion system, since its drive-plume flickered out. Marcel turned the stream of fire toward the crippled vessel’s brethren. Some hits connected at random, though the Arxur seemed more pissed off than wounded. We made a swooping pass across the formation, before banking heavily in the direction from which we came. The computer warned me that we had been target-locked by all nine hostiles.

“Run?” I whimpered.

Marcel cleared his throat. “Yep. Good idea.”

The human pointed the ship in the direction of the Federation border. Why wasn’t he trying to return to the outpost? The last remnants of my logical brain suggested that he was trying to lure the Arxur away. I winced as my harness chafed into my neck. Our inertial dampeners were struggling to keep up with our blistering acceleration.

Only two Arxur ships gave chase, while the rest returned to their intended course. They couldn’t resist sending someone to hunt a straggler down. I knew the enemy bombers would slowly close the gap, with relentless abandon. The optimal way to lose our pursuers was to slip into subspace, but unfortunately, warp required several minutes of stationary preparation. The human signed our death warrant with his stupidity.

Our puny ship gunned away from safety, with a pair of apex predators in hot pursuit.