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The Nature of Predators 144
🕑 Added 2023-08-17 11:00:04 +0000 UTCMemory transcription subject: Onso, Yotul Technical Specialist
Date [standardized human time]: February 21, 2137
After a lengthy tour aboard the UNS Rocinante under Captain Janice Monahan’s directive, it was wonderful to have time to myself at home on Leirn. My place of residence had once been a quaint farming city, built around the sales of a staple grain called eard. After Papa refused to adopt the industrial techniques of Federation agriculture, our crop farm had been outcompeted by those who acquiesced to the aliens’ ways. Our land was lost within a few years of the exterminators’ arrival, and my father toiled in construction work in his old age. It involved grueling, back-breaking tasks to build the very machinations he so despised.
The farm that had been in my family for a dozen generations was gone, never to be passed down to me or my brother, Monar. It wasn’t like I had any interest in agricultural professions, beyond perhaps tinkering with some automated tractors to complete the work for me. While I loved innovation, the knowledge I soaked up from the Federation wasn’t worth the loss of my culture and the two decades as a “zombie” under their predator disease medications. If I could do it all over again, I would’ve stayed and helped Papa with the farm, forsaking my true passion.
But then I would’ve never met Tyler. Tyler might be a dolt, but he never judges me or speaks ill of my culture. The humans have been wonderful.
The village of Rinsa was once the pride and joy of this side of our small continent, with Yotul-built train tracks that allowed us to chug across the landmass in a day. The bullet trains in their place now could zip across the island in an hour. I could still picture the original railroad being blown up during a celebratory speech, as my Gojid engineering instructor goaded me on. The harbor was barely visible behind the new steel buildings, and any green space that had been present was taken up by digitized clutter. The Federation hated water sports, perhaps why Mama’s boat had mysteriously caught on fire one night. As much as I missed home, there was an inescapable sadness whenever I toured the sights.
“New plays at the Tail Twine Theatre! First time in over twenty cycles.” A well-groomed Yotul paced on the streets ahead of me, passing out pamphlets to passersby. I remembered the last play I’d seen, a strange tale where the crops came alive and attacked anyone who tried to harvest them. A predatory story, if you ask the Federation. “Tulleo’s Feud! A classic work of drama and stage choreography, about two warring kingdoms! Based on the Grain Wars.”
I considered grabbing a pamphlet, but I didn’t want to carry it throughout my meeting with the respectable human. My desire to go to the performance was borne of nostalgia and spite for the Federation, as much as anything; it wasn’t as if I couldn’t acquire an advertising handout on my way home. It wasn’t clear why the imperialist aliens took such offense to plays, other than looking down on it as a “primitive form of entertainment.” Visual mediums like television and movies were just better, after all. I suppose it was a good way to suppress old texts that didn’t align with their ideas.
“What would humans think of theatre?” I mused aloud, ignoring the strange looks from people I passed. “They have media that’s beyond realistic, run by computer graphics. Perhaps they’d think a bunch of props on a stage are stupid, though they haven’t had that response to anything of ours yet.”
There were a handful of Terrans in sight on the streets, but I decided to restrain my curiosity. These poor primates were out enjoying a stroll, and didn’t want to be interrupted by an energetic Yotul peppering them with questions. I focused instead on the graffiti art on closed down Federation buildings, which was something we’d learned from Earth. The exterminator office had been shuttered once and for all, when all alien occupiers were sent out forcibly by our military. I could see that the institution was almost ready to reopen as a recruiters’ office.
The Yotul Technocracy, now a part of the Sapient Coalition, was to be taken seriously at long last. The arrival of the humans had given us an opportunity to throw off the Federation’s yoke; everyone who was born before first contact despised what the aliens were doing to Leirn. Our planet’s once gorgeous wildlife was turned to cinders by trigger-happy exterminators, burning anything that challenged their narrative. I was grateful that the Terrans were keen on conservation. That was the exact reason I’d agreed to meet up with the renowned Dr. Sara Rosario at a repurposed lab in the village’s heart.
Sara’s words fell on deaf ears with the Venlil, but we’re happy to accept help rebuilding the ecosystem we used to have. Fresh off the positive results she helped acquire at the Summit, that should leave her riding a high. Her talents won’t be wasted on Leirn.
Were I not committed to the military’s next orders, I would’ve loved to devote myself to aiding this project, despite it being well outside my usual purview. If I framed the environment as a machine with cohesive parts, perhaps I could assess what forces drove the greater whole and how to fix the degradation. The supposed “savage predators” understood more about nature than any race I’d encountered; I trusted humanity to salvage as many animals as possible. It seemed it wasn’t the flesh-eaters who had utter disregard for “lesser” life.
I ducked into the sprawling research campus, which now featured outdoor enclosures to accommodate lifeforms. Curiously, the Terrans had brought pets from Earth to supplement our native customs; the Yotul government had given clearance for the UN to use its discretion on what to bring. Inside, I could see more creatures that looked like dogs, with varying forms. On a stranger note, a small animal that could fit in a human’s hand was yapping at a massive canine. This seemed to scare the much-larger mutt.
I found Dr. Rosario waiting on a couch, and without bothering with pleasantries, I pointed at the tiny, screeching thing. “I know the black-and-brown thing is some sort of dog, like I saw in the military. What is that little thing called?”
The human narrowed her eyes, before chuckling with amusement. “That’s also a dog. I know, they look nothing alike; the breed diversity is staggering. I won’t pretend we weren’t involved with that. Onso, right? We met at the facility—”
“But all Yotul look alike to you. I imagine you get the locals working here mixed up too? Don’t worry—I can’t tell humans with generic hairmops apart either.”
“Hair…mops?”
“I swear I’ve heard Tyler call them mops, like the cleaning tool, um, which some of you definitely look like…”
“Ha, well, I suppose it’s better to look like a cleaning mop than an evil predator. I’d stick with calling it a hairdo or haircut, but back to your point, there’s some humans that look like doppelgängers even to me. I’m glad you understand.”
I perked my ears to signal common ground. “It was the same for me with some species that came from the Federation. You have to spend a lot of time around certain ones to pick up on their individual quirks.”
“The way we know our dog from someone else’s, even if it’s the same breed. Er, not to say sapients are pets!”
“Don’t worry. I loved my hensa; she was a sweet thing, a lightguard.” After seeing Sara’s confused reaction, I racked my brain for a human equivalent. “Like ‘angels’, I think? Noble spirits that watch over Yotul.”
“Tyler must’ve taught you a lot about human culture, to know that.”
“Hardly. I researched quite a bit on my own, before I’d even signed up for the exchange program. If I was going to Earth, to help through rebuilding your cities or military service, it would be inconsiderate to not learn the basics of your culture. I didn’t want to snub my nose at your customs, like the wretched Federation did to us.”
“You’re exceptional in that regard. The Yotul are quite laid-back and open-minded, but few have gone the extra mile to parse our cultural references!”
“And humans have gone to great efforts to relate to us and other lifeforms. I confess, I did it because…I was curious, rather than any higher ideal.”
“A man after my own heart, Onso. Now, not to cut you off, because I would love to keep talking as we walk…but should I give you a tour of our operation?”
“Gladly. Don’t worry, I understood what you said earlier about me not being allowed to take any hensa personally. Preserving the species with care and objectivity is most important.”
Sara’s lips curved upward in that customary human expression, which always registered to my gaze as both a firebrand statement of defiance against Federation norms, and a graceful note of politeness imparted in a split second. It was obvious when the so-called snarl was malicious; their eyes never lied about their emotions. Those forward-facing orbs were clear as a reflection pool. I trotted after the scientist with the glee of a five-year-old, eager to see a hensa out of my mind’s eye. It’d been so long that I didn’t trust my memory, especially after that Farsul “doctor” altered my brain with his numbing pills.
I attempted to return my focus to the primates, the only aliens who’d ever treated us as equals. Hundreds of civilizations were worth a pile of manure, in my book, while the humans were a priceless gift. Despite other herbivores labeling Leirn a backwater, we’d received the second-highest total of Terran immigrants—behind only the refugee-laden Skalga. Many were engineers working on raising our own armada from the shipyards; that was another project I wished I played a part in. The Federation had herded us away from building any warships, to avoid disrupting the notion that we were powerless, brainless primitives.
Wouldn’t it be the greatest insult if Yotul, in collaboration with humanity, improved upon the tech the Federation lorded over us? We already helped devise several ideas, including the crushing shield-breaking missiles.
“Sara, if you’ll humor me, I do have a recent question that my past research overlooked.” I reminded myself that there was no shame in our societal development or low-tech endeavors. What mattered is that they were ours. If humanity were going to mock our arts and culture, they weren’t the species I’d thought they were. “I remember Haysi said something about humans having ‘ancient theaters.’ Exactly how ancient were they? Do you have any recollection of what Terran stage plays were like?”
The curly-haired scientist squinted with confusion. “Were like? Theatre is one of the oldest forms of entertainment, but you misunderstood me, I think. It’s not gone. For one example, back when New York was…still around, there were numerous Broadway plays, which were well-regarded in many circles.”
“Really?! Um, sorry to sound so surprised…I just figured you’d think it’s outdated, like the other aliens.”
“The Federation are a bunch of judgmental killjoys. Don’t you know that by now? Just because newer, fancier ideas exist, doesn’t mean older stuff can’t have its charm.”
“I agree. I just asked because our playhouses are reopening, after being shuttered for years. It interests me what your ‘Broadway plays’ were like.”
“There were some that were dramas and such, but it was most well-known for musicals. You know, actors sing songs to advance the story while doing choreographed, synchronized dances.”
I stifled a snort of laughter, lingering on the mental image. “Which herbivore wrote those for you? Everyone knows predators aren’t capable of something so sentimental and dorky.”
“I know you’re joking, but if you ask the Feds, it’s all part of our master plan.”
“If how off-key Tyler sings reflects on all humans, it is part of your plan…to make sapients clutch our ears in agony.”
Sara snickered for a brief moment, as we stepped into a restricted wing of the research facility. I halted in my tracks as my gaze focused on a couch, where a tan hensa with jagged black stripes was prancing atop it. The once-beloved, near-extinct pet brushed up against the back of one human’s head, and nipped at his earlobe. The primate was laughing, teeth visible from ear to ear; there was no question about how this Terran felt about our old friends.
A few humans were down on all fours playing with yarn and laser pointers, while the more sedentary hominids allowed hensas to settle on their laps. The adoration was mutual; the small animals seemed fond of the Terrans, perhaps because of their willingness to afford attention. It used to be said that hensas were excellent judges of character. Watching an Earthling scratch a rumbling pet’s forward-facing ears (a predator trait that the humans curiously lacked), I wondered whether they wouldn’t keep our non-sapient pals for their own people.
Certainly beats breaking into our homes, and burning them alive in front of us. Fuck the Federation.
For the small number of Yotul who’d been able to harbor hensas all these years, it must’ve been difficult to persuade them to hand their companions over to the Terrans. However, witnessing the care afforded by our arboreal allies, I believed these scientists could give us a fighting chance to bring back the most culturally-significant species on Leirn. It was the only way to ensure the hensas’ numbers were padded, and that future generations could enjoy their company once more. Perhaps, if the pest-killing hunters flourished here again, humans might transport a few back to Earth for adoption.
“We love these little guys, Onso! How could even the Feds hurt such cutie pies?” Sara approached the couch Terran, picking up the hensa. I pretended not to notice her voice climb in pitch, and in turn, she passed the tan animal into my shaking paws. “We brought some puppies and kittens, our darlings from Earth. You could adopt a few of them in the meantime, while we’re repopulating the hensas.”
“I’m glad you invited me here to see this. You’re doing good work.” I pulled my paw tight around the hensa’s belly, scared to drop her. Tears swelled in my eyes, as the graphic memories of my pet burning returned. “Ahem. Tyler has a b-big dog, a Great Dane. That thing could swallow a human’s hand. He left the gentle giant with his dad while he deployed…maybe for good.”
“It’s difficult for pets to be relocated…they don’t understand. It’s kind to force that change of scenery on them as little as possible.”
“Yeah. If I get to retire from military service one day, I’d like to adopt a big canine like his. Nobody’d ever mess with me again. And someday, maybe I could have another hensa, preferably before I die. Leirn can be our world, like it used to be.”
“You want to make all of that a reality? I could put in a word with the UN, get them to call in a favor with your government. Could ask for you to be sent right here. You’ve seen as much direct action as any Yotul, from what I’ve heard—a true hero. We owe you the chance to help with the rebirth, the renaissance of Leirn.”
My head tilted sideways, considering her words. “You would do that, Sara? That sounds…wonderful. I mean, I do want to kick the Feddies in the teeth, but I could use a…break from all that. We finished the Farsul off. We exposed the info in the Archives. I could be useful here now.”
“It’s your choice. You can think on it: I don’t need an answer today. But I’d love the chance to work with you, and pick your brain as one science-obsessed individual to another. Just like my work with the cattle rescues is done, maybe your stint in the stars has reached its end too.”
“Okay. Uh, not to sound greedy, because I am grateful for the opportunity to help—but does this pay? Papa needs to retire, and I can’t make that happen without a steady salary.”
The human pioneer took the hensa from me, and passed a note into my paws in its place. “I looked up how to write in Yotul numerals. I didn’t misprint a thing.”
I nearly choked on my own saliva, as I skimmed across the six figure number in sloppy handwriting. Sara couldn’t be serious! The difference this could make in my family’s life—not only could I serve Leirn, but I could have the financial means to support all of my loved ones. It was difficult to think of a reason to redeploy, if Dr. Rosario could follow through on her promise to transfer me here. Unless there was an existential threat in the stars, this was my chance to finally be happy. Tyler, the cantankerous Sovlin, and I had earned some time on the sidelines.
I was bouncing on my hindlegs with excitement, before I knew it, and I darted out of the lab to avoid embarrassing myself with a celebration. My eyes must’ve been glowing, as I unclipped my holopad from my belt. That enthusiasm fizzled in a heartbeat, when I saw an ominous message from my human best friend—the very person I’d been wanting to contact with the good news. My heart sank into my stomach, faced with a difficult decision.
Hey Onso. Soooo looks like I have to go with the UN into Kolshian territory :( Those bastards have Slanek, and if I don’t save the day, Marcel’s gonna do something stupid. He’s supposed to leave stupid things to me, right? Anyhow, let me know if you’re in or if you’re out. You don’t have to come. Miss ya, buckaroo.
I could feel bile rising into my throat, as I was torn between loyalty to my friend and a chance at an authentic, peaceful life. Offers like the one Sara presented to me wouldn’t come around every day; it was everything I could’ve dreamed of. However, it had always been a no-brainer that Tyler and I stuck together. How would I feel if I forced the human to ship out without me, and something terrible happened to him? Who would watch his back if I wasn’t there?
The last thing I wanted was to head back to the war after enduring Khoa, Sillis, and Talsk, but my friend was counting on me to accompany him to the most difficult fight yet. Even if Tyler would never say it, he was expecting me to tag along; I’d been adamant over joining him on his perilous rescue mission of Marcel on Sillis. Had it not been an exercise in futility, perhaps I would’ve mentioned to my buddy that he kept putting himself in harm’s way for Mr. Fraser and Slanek.
That was just who Tyler was—someone who helped out his “bros.” That was why I knew, if the roles were reversed, he would’ve agreed to join me in a heartbeat; no incentives or comfort could’ve swayed his decision. It was also the reason I accepted that I had to turn down the offer of a lifetime, and follow my human buddy to Aafa. A serene existence on Leirn, with a monster-sized dog curled up on my bed, would have to wait until after we delivered some justice to the heart of the Federation.
A/N - 144's mystery POV arrives! Boatloads of Yotul lore to unpack, between the details of Onso's home village Rinsa, how they've thrown off the Federation's occupation, and Yotul culture from plays to hensas to lightguards! Onso receives an offer from none other than Sara Rosario to join her hensa revival program, but learns about Tyler's plans to head to Aafa...and he decides to go with his buddy. What do you think about what you saw of Leirn? If you were Onso, would you have sacrificed the dream of a lifetime to have Tyler's back?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! If you haven't heard, there will be five updates next week-- an off-schedule one-shot on Tuesday 8/22 with more Archives lore.
Comments
CyberpunkGandalf
I’m going to riot if Onso dies on this last mission. I want him to have his happy ending, rebuilding his Homeworld, with a big doggo and a sweet Hensa, and goes to theater productions. Maybe human musicals will be a huge hit. Come to thing of it: musicals seem like a great avenue to convince other species we’re a bunch of “mostly” harmless* goofballs. *harmless unless you cross us, our friends, our pets, etc.
Greg Gougeon
Ya I would at least ask if she could hold the position
Mylax Kindflame
This feels like one of those decisions where it doesn’t make much sense that you have to choose just one. One last deployment before settling down reasonably wouldn’t be a massive problem for the UN
