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The Nature of Predators 130
🕑 Added 2023-06-29 11:00:05 +0000 UTCMemory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: January 31, 2137
Weeks had passed from our fateful venture to the Archives; a central member of the conspiracy had fallen with little more than a whisper, weakened by the Arxur raid that rattled them post-Earth. I was now contemplating the predators’ chosen punishment for the Farsul. My time on the bridge during its enactment, and the surrounding events, were a blur. It was fair to say that I was distracted by the pre-FTL humans traveling on our vessel, along with the shocking revelations about the Venlil.
I couldn’t picture the mewling Venlil as the volatile creatures caught on film, butting heads and brimming with ferocity. The Terrans had met the perfect race to be warrior buddies, yet nobody realized it until now. Thinking back, the difference in Slanek’s behavior was night and day, from his time on the ship to our encounter on Sillis; Marcel’s silver-gray friend had grown a spine. The predators could dredge that volatile temperament back up, stirring emotions long forgotten.
My therapist listened to my recounting of events via video log, and occasional surprise flashed across her face. Dr. Bahri wound up working with other predator disease patients, besides myself, on alien worlds, after learning of our mental practices. I was relieved to have someone to talk to about what we found on Talsk, and the perceived fairness of the punishment that Terrans meted out. True to my word, I had gifted the meatiest revelations to Cilany, as soon as we reached the ship.
“We rush out of the Archives, 22 additional civilians in tow. There’s no telling if we’ll meet resistance, or what’s happened above-world. Focus on the task at hand, they tell us, all that,” I sighed. “Let’s gloss right over humans from 200 years ago, being preserved in an icebox…though I might circle back to some questions for you. My point is, we surface and establish communications; I was thrilled to not be trapped within the water.”
UN Command had ordered us to return to our submarine; it wasn’t clear then why no Farsul were waiting for us, or whether they’d attempt to pick off departing vessels. Aerosub shuttles had been prepped to rejoin the space fleet, and the crew had been loaded off one craft at a time. It ended up as a cramped voyage, with four additional bodies to squeeze inside our transport. Hunter had grown morose, perhaps with the full brunt of the shock hitting him. The young predator hardly looked around as we scaled the atmosphere, though there’d been a flash of awe when we could survey the planet’s breadth.
Hunter must feel the way I’m feeling, but tenfold worse. Learning that aliens exist, waking up far from home, and having proper technology thrown in his face. Not the mention that he’s lost everything that mattered to him.
“Sorry for the dramatic pause, Doc, just talking it through in my head. Anyhow, we flew back up without incident. Locals didn’t come for us, and I was worried the moon did some serious damage.” I chewed at my claws as I continued, still struggling to believe the Archives’ discoveries. “Yeah, the UN dislodged a fucking moon. I was briefed on what happened when we got back to the ship. The Farsul used some serious firepower to break it up into tiny pieces.”
The therapist’s binocular eyes bore into me. “So this…falling satellite burned up in the atmosphere?”
“Took a concentrated effort, but they stopped it. You humans assumed they’d be able to smash it up in time. In the time that the Farsul were hurling missiles and ships at the unexpected meteorite, the Terran military established itself in orbital formation around Talsk. Weapons primed, demanding unconditional surrender. That’s how we got off-world without a hitch.”
The humans’ ultimatum had been explicit: for the generations of suffering inflicted on trillions of sapients, the Farsul States could no longer be allowed to exist. The leadership had the choice to surrender the entire planet to the predators’ mercy, or to face certain annihilation via orbital bombardment. The Farsul elders had a day to discuss the proposition; additionally, any aggressive action toward our military would nullify the countdown. Unlike the Krakotl’s infamous “self-sacrifice”, Terrans wagered that Talsk would elect for self-preservation.
I didn’t know how the humans could have the manpower for another ground occupation; two vassal states already presented a tremendous strain on their resources.
Our ascent back to the ship went unchallenged, as the Farsul fleet had stood down, awaiting deliberations. It was clear from Fahl and Sillis that the United Nations allowed surrendering states to survive; the enemy could anticipate that they’d be unharmed. Our crew stayed on duty in case of an attack, until official word came through. The objectives of our ship’s mission had changed, with the sudden need to return rescued civilians to Earth. Once Talsk was handled, it was likely we’d ferry the reawakened predators home.
Cryogenically frozen members of other species had been recovered too, but only the Federation’s additions from recent centuries; the supply of ancient races like Gojids, Venlil, and Krakotl was long since expended. I felt like there was something Terrans were omitting from that list. My thoughts again shifted to Hunter, wondering how the brown-haired human was doing. The civilians had been confined to a specific wing of crew quarters, reserved for diplomatic envoys or unexpected additions. Captain Monahan hadn’t wanted the primitives disrupting military activities, while we were occupying hostile territory. I thought that was a wise decision; having Onso gawking at basic machines was enough.
Dr. Bahri cleared her throat. “Venlil Prime to Sovlin? I can’t let you retreat into your head, and get swept away in your thoughts. Let’s focus on what happened. What was the Farsul’s response to those demands?”
“The United Nations’ terms were accepted,” I murmured. “I didn’t know what we had in store for them, but it was laden with conditions. The elders and high-ranking leaders were to surrender, so that they could be brought to Earth for a trial along with the captured archivists. I was surprised that all but two elders turned themselves in…those two were found in their offices with, ah, self-inflicted demises, per recon drones.”
“What else was asked of the Farsul? I don’t imagine that is it.”
“The United Nations sent transports to collect all predator disease patients, political prisoners or dissenters, and foreign diplomats or visitors. I didn’t understand what we were doing, but even with local assistance, it took days to round up everyone we wanted. A few of those departees were allocated to our ship, actually, and stowed in a separate wing from the primitives—sorry, outdated humans.”
A stern breath seeped from her lips. “Erase the word primitive from your vocabulary. It’s demeaning and unhelpful.”
“Sorry, Doctor. My point is, Terrans wanted to retrieve everyone they deemed innocent off-world, because they didn’t intend for anyone else to leave Talsk again.”
“How so?”
My eyes rolled back in my head, as I recalled the scene in the viewport. The UN fleet had moved a number of useless objects into Talsk’s orbit, and caused them to either disintegrate or collide with artificial satellites. The humans hadn’t been satisfied with the resulting debris field, so they lugged more space junk into the planet’s vicinity. Carlos referred to the concept as “Kessler Syndrome”, and Onso chimed in that cascading collisions would continue for centuries. It was a self-sustaining chain that would only worsen with time.
That was when the Terrans proclaimed their terms, with a righteous indignation that only they could muster. The Farsul lost their right to roam the stars, with their revocation of autonomy for other races and their cultural genocide of hundreds of worlds. The predators intended for no ship to leave Talsk again, and thus, rendered space-flight impossible. These conspirators would be confined to their own world, imprisoned by a tomb of debris, indefinitely.
“The UN shot down a bunch of satellites, creating an impenetrable cloud of trash sealing the world’s inhabitants in. I shudder thinking how humans even dreamed up such a consequence.” My spines laid flat, despite my unease; it was becoming normal, to witness how devious the predators could be. “We left nothing to chance. FTL disruptors were set up in the world’s bounds, multiple, in case one failed. UN ships would patrol the system, in case the Farsul ever tried to launch anything or cleanse their orbit.”
“I presume existing weaponry was accounted for?”
“Military installations on Talsk were destroyed, before we created the cage. Orbital defense stations were surrendered to the jurisdiction of the UN, to be used or salvaged as we desire. The elders ordered the colonies and their forces to stand down—compliance with the Terrans’ round-up was mandatory on the homeworld. Just like that, a founding member of the Federation is no longer spacefaring. Depending on humanity’s wishes, they might not ever be again.”
“How do you feel about that, Sovlin?”
“Well, Carlos tried to tell Sam there’s innocent civilians that got caught in the crossfire. Sam said they took the ones who stood up for you, the dissenters and the fellow victims, and the others should be grateful that they were allowed to continue living. Something along those lines.”
“I asked how you feel.”
“It’s complicated. When I talked with Cilany, we remembered giving Sam a hard time about humans’ animal testing. I felt sick, at the thought of using a creature as a toy, even for medicinal purposes. After meeting Hunter, I am coming to realize that you were never savage monsters, living solely for carnage. So the Farsul did testing…experiments on genuine sapients, without any healing purpose in mind. Stopping your predation isn’t noble enough to justify it.”
“If I’m understanding you, it follows that you’re now unsure the experimentation on Gojids was justified.”
“I despise my ancestry! Yet I can’t imagine how I’d feel, in Hunter’s paws. Did ancient humans really have to name their kids ‘Hunter’, by the way?”
“That name still exists, Sovlin. You’d have to ask why his parents specifically felt drawn to it, but I imagine it was a…wild, adventurous appeal.”
“I’m just saying, that’s comically predatory. Holy Protector. Anyhow, Talsk’s fate is unlike anything that’s ever occurred, but I think the punishment is fair. The Farsul species will go on, untampered with, and that’s more than you can say for the rest of us.”
The human therapist didn’t mask her pleasure, hearing me frame meddling in a species’ affairs as a negative. Her sharp eyes dialed in on me, and she palmed her ebony chin. I could feel her pupils through the screen, tugging what else was on my mind out of me. That was a simple quandary. After we left Farsul territory, the ancient humans were allowed to leave their quarters. However, we would be arriving at Earth soon, and I hadn’t seen Hunter throughout the return journey.
Despite him being a primitive predator, I can’t help but to think of him as a kid that I’m worried about. Perhaps he wants time to himself, so I don’t know if I should try to visit.
“Hunter hasn’t left his room, not even for mealtimes.” I leaned back in my chair, fidgeting with concern. “The UN leaves care packages outside the guests’ doors, and those have disappeared so…I know he’s handling his basic needs. I don’t know how he’d feel about me barging in, or if I’d even be helpful. Maybe someone like Onso would be better, you know, since they both grew up without technology, and the Yotul is even more primitive than him.”
The psychologist issued a sharp cough, and leveled a forceful stare at my skull. “Sovlin.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! How much can you really expect of me? Just let me finish—the uplift has his own cryopod human, and’s been running her ear off instead of me, which is good. I’m glad to have a break from him. But that means Hunter is my responsibility…I don’t know what to do, and I don’t want to ask anyone else. Does he want to talk? Do I help him out during our shore leave on Earth?”
“Hunter must be extremely lonely and confused; I’d be happy to fit him into my schedule, if that was something he wanted down the road. What a unique set of circumstances. Why don’t you knock on his door, and ask if he’d like to speak with you? That’s the quickest way to find out whether he wants space, and how deep of a rut he’s in.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“From there, assuming he’s receptive to your presence, you can offer to bring him up to speed on Earth and modern amenities. Do not thumb your nose at him, or talk down to him. That’s the least helpful attitude you can have. Be kind. Listen.”
“Those are not my specialties.”
“You were a good father to Hania, Sovlin, and a good teacher to Recel. You know how to be supportive, and you know how to be a mentor.”
“You’re right. Thank you.”
“Of course. Our time is up, but please, reach out if Hunter is in a crisis. Go speak to him.”
“Will do. Take care, Doctor.”
The human terminated the video call, and I hopped out of my chair without hesitation. Procrastinating wouldn’t make it any easier to reach out to Hunter; I’d fret over the ancient predator’s wishes regardless of when I took this first step. When he first woke up from the pod, I’d promised to do anything I could to help, despite my cluelessness on how to accomplish that. It was my responsibility, as a representative of the UN, to coax him to adapt.
Even if it wasn’t my job, I pity the ordeal he’s been through. Maybe I can find more “small steps” for him to take, once we land on Earth. I can try to be his friend.
After my lengthy stint aboard this ship, it was no challenge to find my way around. I could discern which humans were primitive civilians and which ones were military crew by who paid me any attention; most ancients weren’t quite used to aliens walking around yet. The designated quarters were tucked near the rear of the ship, with little to offer in the way of luxury. My gaze landed on an unassuming door, which was assigned to Hunter. I drew a nervous breath, and rapped my claws against the frame.
“Hunter? It’s Sovlin,” I called out. “I don’t mean to bother you or invade your privacy, but…it’s been awhile, and I wanted to see if you’re alright. I can go away if you—”
The door swung open, and a disheveled Hunter blinked red, puffy eyes. The human pressed a hand to the frame, leaning his body weight forward; I could see him wiping snot from his nose with the other. Scruff had taken up residence on his chin, a sign that he’d abandoned his grooming habits. Behind him, I could see the deep indentation in his twin-sized mattress that suggested he’d hardly left his bed.
Hunter cleared his throat, before speaking in a voice scratchy from disuse. “Hey.”
“We’re almost home, to Earth. A few hours away.”
“Yeah. Cool, I guess.”
“I was worried about you…I looked for you in the mess hall and the rec room, but never saw you. I assumed you want to be alone.”
“I just don’t have much energy, man. It all hit me like a freight train, and I miss everyone so much it hurts. Didn’t even get to say goodbye. Going home is a daunting prospect, there’s a war with literal aliens, and I have pretty much nothing to live for, when you think about it. And I thought about it. I had my whole life ahead of me, mapped out and doing stuff I loved, but now it’s just a question mark.”
“Fuck that. Find a way to do the stuff you loved. What if you tell me about your past, about you, and I’ll help you wade into this scary future? I promised I’d do what I could, and I meant it.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to have fun anymore.”
“Then my mission is to make you smile. Just so you know, teeth-baring is a sign of aggression from every species but yours. A lot of people saw it as a sign that humans were hostile.”
Hunter couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“There’s the smile! Not kidding though. I don’t exactly do jokes, so Sovlin comedy won’t be on your itinerary. What do you say about seeing your homeworld from the bridge, and getting a tour of the ship? My human friends told me, at your time, not very many people saw Earth from space. The grandness of it all is magical. You can be one of the earliest people to witness it, sort of.”
“Okay. I don’t see why not…stretch my legs, at least.”
I grabbed the human’s hand, pulling him down the hallway; that action seemed to take him by surprise, and earned stares from passing crew. Hunter couldn’t have the opportunity to withdraw back to his room. He needed a push to adjust to his new circumstances, and to witness the novel, beautiful things surrounding him. Life returned to his amber gaze, as we hustled through the ship passageways. I released his palm at the bridge, and gestured with a sweep of my paw toward the viewport.
FTL travel was done in staggered, pre-approved increments within the Sol system, as a wide berth was considered restricted space since Earth’s attack. This time, Hunter took a good look at the starry night sky and the outer planets; icy rings surrounded a dust-colored world, a massive giant that we passed by. The ancient human released a shrill noise, which I’d learned was a whistle. On Talsk, he’d been too dispirited to appreciate orbital bodies. Now, he could witness the striking majesty of his native Sol’s great expanse.
I passed the captain’s chair, currently-unoccupied, and approached the viewport. Wonder lit up the predator’s amber gaze; Hunter followed me closer to the screen. He reached out with a hand, as if he felt he could touch the planet. Moisture saturated his reddened-eyes, and he dropped his arm back to his side in wordless awe. I drifted my claw across the abyssal blackness on the display, pointing to a faint blue dot.
“That’s your home. A tiny beacon in a dark universe,” I breathed.
Hunter pawed his tears away. “There’s no place like home.”
I stood next to the human, as we peered out at the Sol system’s contents. With the success of my stargazing idea, it seemed more plausible that I could help the misplaced predator. Once we arrived at Earth, I could fulfill my promise to help him navigate the staggering changes that had transpired. My mission was teaching one Terran about his people’s achievements in the past centuries, and guiding him through the current landscape of his homeworld.
A lot had changed since Hunter was last on this planet, but I was determined that we’d tackle the present reality together.
A/N - Part 130 is here! Sovlin recounts the fate of Talsk, as well as what happened with the falling moon while he was underwater. Our Gojid narrator also commits to cheer Hunter up and show him around modern-day Earth. What do you think of the United Nations' chosen punishment for the Farsul? How do you think Hunter will react to 22nd century Terra?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
Adam Myers
Humanity has gained an undyingly loyal ally that you absolutely do not want to piss off. Once the war is over, humans will probably become even more terrifying, as a result of the Venlil. I can imagine sayings arising, “never talk bad about a Venlil’s human, it’s bad for your health”.
csongor242
I just cought up with the story after an involuntarily break so here's my opinion. I don't particularly have a problem with the debris blockade AS LONG it can be cleaned up after the war in short order, and the whole "your whole species can no longer be space faring because the actions of a few" wasn't serious talk. If that would be the case than the UN would be no better than the Farsul and the Kolshians. After all the first world the conspirators oppressed was their own, and no amount of wrong from a few can justify condemning an entire species.
Taliesyn
For what it's worth, I'm on board with the punishment. It removes the Farsul from the war without the UN having to genocide the species. And if the UN at any point decides to lift it, all they have to do is send out drones to clear up the orbit. Might take a few years, but with the tech we've seen, it's certainly doable. And it's a good way to save them from the other species at the upcoming summit, because some of them *cough*Venlil*cough* may well want the Farsul to be exterminated for their leaders' crimes.
