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The Nature of Predators - More Archives Lore (One-Shot #10)
🕑 Added 2023-08-22 11:01:01 +0000 UTCSivkits (14-C)
The fallout of the Archives didn’t linger only with the parties that attended the Summit.
The Sivkits had never returned any of humanity’s communiques, ever since the bombing that resulted in Elias Meier’s death; that pattern didn’t change even with the revelations they received courtesy of Earth. The prairie-loving species were renowned for inaction and aimless wandering, after all. They were nomadic animals that even Federation races recognized for their ecological destructiveness, which was called out as unsustainable. As any human knew, that was a monumental feat of itself. The Feds were hardly paragons of conservation.
The Sivkit Grand Herd didn’t have much in the way of organization, with their loose assortment of tribes. “Any way the wind blows” could’ve been the mantra for their governing policy. The Sivkits simply ignored both the humans and the Federation, as though not addressing either party would make them go away. For the Kolshians’ part, they were happy to leave the grazers alone, since this cowardice didn’t present a threat to their control. The United Nations, however, didn’t take the hint. The bombing was a blemish on Earth’s records, and Zhao wished to make amends.
The message the Terrans sent was passed through various channels, and the Sivkits were an unusual case. As one of the earlier species to be discovered, the conspirators were still refining their meddling techniques against herbivores. They were one of the first worlds to have exterminators deployed during first contact, which had the side effects of burning most of their sources of food in the dry prairies. Tunsas was a planet the Sivkits were relocated to, and the Farsul stepped in to muddy the waters over what really happened.
“Ah yes, a simple narrative. Portray the Sivkits as mindless wanderers, and use the ‘lost’ homeworld as evidence of their unintelligent nature.” The Farsul archivist’s blunt words were devoid of all emotion on the recording; this was just another Tuesday at the office, for them. “In order to give the impression of intellectual regression, we tampered with their spinal structure. This would make quadrupedalism the only natural form of locomotion, while suggesting to the galaxy that the Sivkits stopped being bipedal without cause. Over the years, the purposeful dumbing-down strategy has lowered education levels and had a tangible effect on learning.”
While some species, like the Venlil or the Duerten, were dangerously livid when their own history came to light, the Sivkits doubled down on their policy, to have nothing to do with anyone. Isolation was wonderful—no more pressure from the Paltans to take on refugees. No more judgment from the Federation over how their expeditions flew through native vegetation and left a homeworld barren. No more predators that made Ambassador Axsely hide in a trash can.
The Sivkit Grand Herd only planned to start returning calls should the Arxur prowl their space. However, given that they were active thousands of light-years away from Wriss, that seemed unlikely.
Mazics (214-D)
President Cupo flared his trunk with amusement. Was the D rating on the Federation’s scale solely because of the Mazics’ large size, and in turn, this made them seem too “threatening” for prey? Their natural diet was the Kolshians’ dream. A tall grass on Khoa called teia, commonly mistaken for a tree due to the trunk-like appearance of its stalks, satiated their nutritional needs. Humans would remark on something called “bamboo” and an animal called a “panda,” when the concept was explained to them.
In the weeks since the Summit, the Archives information had been living rent-free in every Mazic’s head. Those infuriating details wouldn’t have been necessary to get the Mazic Presidium to accept the Secretary-General’s invitation. Ever since the UN military intervened in the Kolshian conquest of Khoa, Cupo and his second, Vice President Quipa, had done an about-face on humanity. They sang the Terrans’ praises from every rooftop, and went out of their way to idolize the predators. The United Nations had protested the statue of Captain Janice Monahan, constructed in the Mazic capital (Teia Forest). It didn’t matter; everyone on Khoa knew who talked down the Kolshian fleet, as Federation missiles were pointed at the highly-populated city of Tlinio.
There had been rocky moments when the Mazics sent a generous amount of support, after the Terrans began constructing a colony on a gifted world. The predators were proud, Cupo figured, in being unwilling to have the planet rendered safe for their inhabitants; perhaps it was seen as an admission of weakness on Earth, to vanquish beastly threats from relative safety. That would explain why they kept so many of their world’s native hunters around, even if the beasts could maim a fragile human.
Vice President Quipa strolled below towering ceilings, what would’ve been enough to fit two floors for any other species. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to let the United Nations open their embassy here? Much of the public is still spooked by predators. A human body could be shattered by a panicked kick, out walking the streets.”
“They’ve been warned about the potential dangers, and still chose to send their diplomats. It’s important that we’re in contact, given how their Liberty’s Bastion colony is something of a Mazic protectorate,” President Cupo replied. “We’re setting up our own embassies both on Earth and Liberty’s Bastion. It wouldn’t be fitting for them not to open an embassy here in return. I trust they’ll caution their staff accordingly, but I’ve made sure hospitals are apprised of Terran anatomy all the same.”
“I just worry about an interplanetary incident…and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them. Humans are as good as predators can be. We’re only the seventh species to be reaching the embassy stage with them, behind the Venlil, Zurulians, Yotul, Suleans and Iftalis, and Takkans.”
“The Sapient Coalition won’t function if we don’t integrate with each other. This is the absolute minimum, the most basic step, Quipa! We must never treat them with suspicion or scorn again.”
Quipa paused, leveling the Mazic President with a knowing look. “This is about more than the embassy, isn’t it? You want this to work with the humans for your own reasons.”
“I still remember what that Farsul archivist said about us. I can quote it, word for word. ‘Prey are supposed to be weak and servile, dependent on the herd to fend off perils. The imposing frame of the Mazics makes it a challenge to instill any meaningful instincts in them. Their culture is within acceptable limits, but properly-cultured herbivores will struggle sharing a ship with a Mazic.’ Why? We’re a threat for who we are, just like the predators!” Cupo spat.
“Well…at least they didn’t attempt to give us all dwarfism.”
“Don’t give them ideas, Quipa. Stars. I’d much rather deal with humans than those assholes.”
The two Mazic public servants found agreement in that notion. There was certainly no buyer’s remorse in the decision to join the Terrans’ official alliance.
Harchen (189-B)
The Harchen may have only recently been released from UN rule, but there was one three-foot-tall reptile that sifted through the pertinent Archives’ revelations with fervor. Cilany poked around for more information than the humans’ forwarded in the brief excerpt to Fahl, spending hours combing the footage troves alongside her new journalist colleagues on Earth. The Farsul were meticulous in recording Harchen culture! They once had climbing competitions that the Federation deemed too dangerous, utilizing their ability to stick to surfaces with their toes. Their entertainment industry had started with radio shows and silent films, something that the Federation had conveniently wiped from the records.
With all of those distracting tidbits to parse through, Cilany’s research stretched on well after the Summit had concluded. Albeit, she was also working on separate projects, but this was the one that earned her passion. It was the story of her people, as told by outside observers with their own agenda. The Harchen reporter found herself analyzing her homeworld’s culture, just like she had done on her escapades on Earth with Lars Isaksson. Her sole goal was for all of Fahl’s citizenry to know the complete, objective truth.
Cilany remembered how, during that fateful interview with Nikonus, the autocrat had purred that the Gojids were one of the most successful conversions; Farsul archivists echoed those sentiments on the overview tapes. Gojids were an A on the resistance designation, while the Harchen were one letter higher. She wondered what made that slight difference, and what had proven offensive enough to merit transformation. She’d seen with other races how difficult it was to tell what the Feds had altered, with the passing of ages.
The Harchen’s oral traditions had withstood the test of time, with chants designated for each important event. Their belief system held that words were imbued with power, and as a reporter, she felt the same. The Farsul explained that they changed the recitations for numerous chants, especially any that contradicted their worldview; none were more heavily-edited than the Chant of Celebration, which referenced the Harchen’s insectivore past. Cilany rushed to publish the initial versions, without the Federation censorship.
The reporter was sickened by the idea of swallowing the bugs buzzing around the air, but her human colleagues asked another question. How could the practice of consuming tiny insects possibly present any “predatory” threat to the Federation? Cilany wasn’t sure why she was surprised that billions of humans ate insects today; perhaps it was because Sam and Carlos reacted with disgust when they first met Birla. She couldn’t imagine them wolfing down the so-called “creepy-crawlies.” Then again, it was becoming apparent that humans would eat just about anything that had the gall to exist on Earth.
Cilany’s article, called The Harchen’s Insectivore Past, hit the FTL-supported internet around the same time as Nikonus’ assassination, so it didn’t gather much traction with non-Harchen viewers. The incendiary tale of Slanek’s cold-blooded assassination had a way of drowning out all other news for several cycles. The reptile reporter intended to repost her thoughts once that chatter died down. It would be a shame for such a well-written opener to go to waste; pride swelled in her chest, as she read her prose aloud.
“The difference between being one of the most successful conversions and presenting a vague threat to the Federation harkened back to a single letter, tacked on after a discovery number—the way an ordinary species of explorers would label an exoplanet, not a civilization. The Harchen had a booming entertainment industry from the beginning, one that takes Federation worlds by storm to this day. Fahl boasted a culture of storytellers and orators rivaled by none, which was a threat to the conspiracy; they don’t like when the past is detailed, passed along, and remembered.
However, all it took to be bumped up a letter on the resistance scale: it wasn’t simply the culture that passed along memories of past generations. The Farsul had no trouble altering the messages each Harchen received from their ancestors, changing the words that were spoken, just as they changed anything else they didn’t like. Why were a harmless, unimposing race of omnivores referred to as a Class B? It was merely in being different by way of eating insects. As we saw with humanity, the Federation will always perceive anything that breaks from ‘normal’ as a threat.”
The humans, maligned for their eye placement, had learned that sentiment the hard way. The Harchen were divergent in their insectivore diet, which was nothing like being called bloodthirsty predators, of course. Ultimately, Cilany knew the Terrans were in the same toehold as her species, being condemned for uniqueness. It was well past time that more races were allowed to be their authentic selves.
Dossur (276-A)
For obvious reasons, many in the Dossur government were unable to receive the Archives messages or attend the Summit. Being occupied by a forty-thousand-strong Kolshian fleet had a way of keeping people out of the loop. The Gojids and the Zurulians were among species given the lowest rating on the subjugation difficulty chart. Perhaps Mileau had been a target because the Federation thought they were owed subservience for their part in the Dossur’s rise to a technological society, and they thought it would be an easy world to conquer. Little the Kolshians and Farsul did was out of the kindness of their hearts.
The United Nations passed the excerpts from their Talsk raid along to anyone in the shattered Dossur government they could reach. It was common knowledge on Mileau that, while the most-diminutive species in the galaxy had been sapient, they could’ve never built grandiose machines without Federation intervention. It was near impossible for a race of their stature to bend their world to their will, to avoid predation with weaponry, or to chart their planet’s circumference. What had been obfuscated over the years was how anyone learned that the rodent species was sapient.
The act that tipped off colony preparers, also known as the exterminators, was the simplistic music Dossur played for them, as they approached parked spaceships out of reverence and curiosity. The translators couldn’t understand their speech at that time, having no databases, transmissions, or recordings to reference, so there was no telling what Mileau’s natives thought for certain. Humanity assumed that they reacted about like a Cro-Magnon would to flying chariots of fire landing, and releasing strange creatures with magical gadgets. It was likely the Dossur at first contact thought the Feds were gods, and were attempting to appease them with song.
The Kolshians and Farsul were generous in uplifting them, recording millions of hours of footage to facilitate back-and-forth communication. Giving the Dossur implants allowed them to at least understand what aliens were saying, before it was a two-way street of understanding. Machines gave the rodents the power to travel anywhere in their world, or even to the heavens! Thousands of years of science fell into their laps, what could be considered the whole sum of pre-contact civilization. Mileau’s tribal society transformed into an advanced, industrial one with modern comforts.
The United Nations deduced that the “A” letter designation was largely due to the fact that the Dossur believed anything the Federation said, after all that was given to them. The Farsul archivists echoed these claims with the simple, “Why would the natives question our beliefs and understanding of the world, when we’d been the benefactors of everything else they knew? They owe us everything! The Dossur were and are nothing without us.” It was charged rhetoric which didn’t sit well with any Mileau residents that heard it. The Federation had given many gifts, but with implied strings attached.
The second that Mileau stepped out of line with the conspiracy, despite having their entire society and culture shaped by the Federation, the Kolshian shadow fleet descended upon them to bring them back by force. The humans, by contrast, waged a months-long contest in an attempt to regain Dossur autonomy. The fact that the Dossur joined the Sapient Coalition, as the vote that sealed the unanimous tally, showed that they had decided that they didn’t owe their uplifters anything.
A/N - The tenth patron one-shot! A few species you asked for extra lore on, including the currently-trendy Sivkits and the return of our favorite Harchen reporter. We also learn a bit about how the Mazics are integrating with humanity, and how peculiar the Dossur's development was. How do you feel about the Federation's treatment of each of these species? What was your favorite lore insight here?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! HE2 will still be releasing on schedule tomorrow with a fiery scene; four days in a row of updates!
