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The Nature of Predators 110
🕑 Added 2023-04-21 11:00:03 +0000 UTCMemory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: December 15, 2136
There were three new additions to our personnel, as we departed from Sillis. The UN fleet caught wind of an incursion on Venlil Prime, alongside every other allied race; the Venlil Republic’s homeworld was as valuable to them as one of their own colonies. Humanity couldn’t weaken the strength of Sol, but they allocated every resource they could spare. Their original allies were going to have every free ship with a gun strapped to it assigned to their fortifications.
It was expected to be a quiet assignment, ensuring that the Venlil system was impenetrable. The crew were allowed to take shore leave on the homeworld’s surface, though we were expected to stay to be able to return to the vessel within an hour if needed. Many humans brimmed with excitement about seeing an alien planet, including Marcel and Tyler. Slanek, Onso, and the Tilfish had gone with them. The insectoids in question were Birla and Virnt, two of the new passengers on Monahan’s warship.
Word of the Tilfish child’s outburst had gotten back to Marcel, and he put in a word with the captain. The United Nations could take the “humma”-obsessed kid to Venlil Prime, where he could interact with Terran refugees in a controlled environment. General Birla hadn’t been thrilled about the proposition, but her objections fell silent when the humans whispered something about a predator disease screening.
I suspect the United Nations may want to give Birla a proper diplomatic reception here. She was the sole Tilfish voter against annihilating Earth.
But the Tilfish additions to the crew weren’t my concern. The third, and final new name on our register, was a human named Kiara Bahri. We picked her up from a Venlil border outpost. Earth had assigned a resident therapist to the ship, due to the stressors and adjustment issues our ship had faced. I recalled Marcel and Tyler’s entreaties for me to seek help, so I hesitantly signed up for an appointment today.
This meant I was one of a select few to remain aboard the ship, while others explored Venlil Prime. Samantha also stayed here, to “grieve alone”; Carlos, meanwhile, had rushed off to a bar with some rowdy soldiers. I wasn’t in any state to go rabble-rousing in the capital, so I sympathized with Sam, having lost her family. Regardless, it was unlikely I’d get an opportunity to see a professional about my issues, outside of downtime.
However, as I traveled to Kiara’s office, my stomach was twisting into knots. It wasn’t like I was unaware of how predator disease was treated. As much as I wanted to be cured of my mental derangement, the thought of subjecting myself to painful remedies frightened me. A severe case like mine would require the more severe fixes. People who were sent to correctional facilities didn’t return the same either…
“Marcel wanted you to do this. It’s important to get help, so that you never hurt anyone else,” I encouraged myself. “Even if your gears don’t quite spin as fast after, it’s a small sacrifice to squash your impulses.”
My claws rapped on Dr. Bahri’s door, and what was left of my spines bristled. The fact was, this current state of existence brought me nothing but misery and self-loathing. It was cowardice not to face my predator side, so I shouldn’t lack the gumption to get this “PTSD treatment” Tyler mentioned. If the blond-haired human claimed his species had an effective approach, I was inclined to believe him. Terrans were knowledgeable in medicine, contrary to Zarn’s spiel.
“Come in!” a cheerful voice called out.
I forced myself to walk inside, taking in the room. A predator was dressed in civilian pelts, leaning back in a large armchair. Her sepia skin tone was a color that was also seen in Gojid fur, and her raven hair rested against her shoulders in complex braids. A warm smile graced her face, as though she was indifferent to the dangerous nature of her patients.
My gaze soaked in the rest of my surroundings, and confusion washed over me. All I saw was a small bookshelf and a desk, on the far wall. Kiara was gesturing to a human-sized couch, which was complete with pillows. I was stupefied that she seemed unarmed; there were no restraints tied to the couch, and no sedatives on the table. All I could see was a clipboard in her hands, and a tissue box on the table.
Where are the brain scanners and the electroshock machines?
“Hello, Doctor.” This medical professional was separate from the ship physician; she was closest to what we called an Extraneous Behavior Identifier. It was amusing that even predators needed such an occupation, to keep their society civilized. “What…what do you need me to do?”
Kiara’s binocular eyes jerked over to me. “Sit on the couch, Sovlin. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Okay. I’m sitting, and I promise, I won’t resist whatever you need to do. I…I want to get better, and be a proper part of the herd.”
“What I need to do? You’re here to talk to me, about any topic that you feel comfortable with.”
“Yes, but after…”
“What is it you think I’ll do after? You’re the first alien patient I’ve had, and it seems that many of the non-terrestrial crew are scared of speaking to me. The stigma around mental health has been fading on Earth for the past century, so I can assure you, humans won’t view seeking help as a sign of weakness.”
“I know. My Terran friends encouraged me to come here.”
“That’s excellent to hear. I am here as a resource, a bridge between aliens and humanity in our joint venture. Please explain what the perceived issue is, Sovlin, so I can begin to address it in my outreach. I don’t want other non-terrestrials to see me as someone to avoid.”
I drew a shuddering breath. “We all know your work is necessary, but if you get diagnosed with late-stage predator disease…few people want to be incarcerated, shocked, or sterilized. The side effects of the meds, even for mild cases, are debilitating. Also, when the diagnosis gets out, you’ll be ostracized from society and employment. I know that, and I’m still here, because I can’t live like this.”
Dr. Bahri’s jaw slackened, an immediate failure to mask her surprise. Her eyes widened, as a mix of horror and outrage filled her pupils. The human took several seconds to collect her thoughts, and I forced myself to hold her stare. Even a predator must wish she was armed around a self-diagnosed madman. Perhaps she was upset that I’d slipped under the radar for so long.
“I am floored. That treatment of mental health is somehow more atrocious than our methods in medieval times,” Kiara said. “First off, I can guarantee that no human will electroshock or sterilize anyone here. The only case in which you would be ‘incarcerated’ is if you voice an immediate threat against yourself or others.”
I chewed at my claws with anxiety. “I understand. If I have predator disease, I am a threat to the herd…and you’ll remove me. As it should be.”
“We do not remove the mentally ill from the herd. By a direct threat, I am referring to stating clear intent to harm someone. That is the only time authorities would be alerted. Otherwise, everything you say is confidential; if I spoke to anyone outside these walls about your sessions, I would lose my license. None of today’s words will be shared.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you lose your license? Are humans insane enough not to warn people of deviants?”
“My goal is to help you understand yourself and find healthy ways to address your feelings. And just because someone doesn’t experience the world in the same manner as us, it doesn’t make them a threat. It doesn’t mean they deserve to be cast out without a lifeline.”
“But predator disease patients attack people!”
“A very small number of mentally ill individuals are violent, Sovlin. Mental health is more complicated than classing a condition as predator disease, or not predator disease.”
“So what? We’re just going to talk, and nothing else? And this is magically going to make my illness go away, right…”
“We’ll talk. Any diagnoses made are for you to better understand how your brain works. I may recommend that you seek evaluation for medicine, if I feel it is in your best interest; however, this would only be to tackle specific neurochemical imbalances.”
I snorted to myself, unable to believe the inefficacy of this therapy. To think that Kiara Bahri was a licensed medical professional, for performing the duties of a talk show host. What a waste of a higher education! How would she determine that I had a “neurochemical imbalance”, without any testing technology?
I’m never going to get my predation cured. Tyler and Marcel think I can talk it out of my system…stupid predators. You’d think a violent species like humans would get the importance of catching outliers!
I had listened to Dr. Bahri’s speech, calling mental health a complex issue. If a certain number of patients were bound to be violent, how did a Terran’s conscience let them take zero preventative measures? There was nothing complicated about allowing sick-minded people to wander among the herd. There might be ill humans among this crew, and Kiara claimed she wouldn’t warn us at all!
I didn’t understand how Terrans without predator disease accepted dangers in their midst. We had to encourage them to take mental illness more seriously, and root it out at a young age. There would be public outcry, once Earth’s public realized they were being exposed to twisted individuals. I couldn’t wait to get out of this office, and scoff about the bunk science to Sam.
The therapist cleared her throat. “I can sense that you’re skeptical, Sovlin. I need you to take our sessions seriously, and trust me to help you. Can you give our methods a chance?”
“Sure. Whatever.” I didn’t need to tip the human off to my plans, to ridicule her entire practice. “I did sign up for this.”
“You told me up-front that you can’t live like this anymore. I commend your courage in seeking help, and I can promise you, you will attain a deeper understanding of who you are as a person. If I might ask, what makes you think that you have ‘predator disease?’”
“I took joy from hurting Marcel Fraser. The only time I feel happy is when I kill an Arxur. I am violent, reckless, and filled with hate.”
“I’d love to hear more about the specifics of your emotions. Where would you suggest those feelings stem from?”
Still not locking me up? I just admitted to violent tendencies…and how good it felt, at the time, to torture an innocent human.
Gritting my teeth, I decided to tell Kiara a small amount. “Predators disgust me, no offense. It’s…it’s been years. The Gojids were fending off a brutal assault, and I was a ship captain. Our defense was going poorly, right up until the desperate charge I’m famed for. Just before we drove them off, I was on a call to wish my daughter good-night, when Arxur ships reached our neighborhood…”
---
For some reason, I began to spill everything about my past in rambling fashion. Kiara would prompt me whenever my words dried up, and jot notes down on a clipboard. The human didn’t discourage the free flow of tears; I was ashamed of how they poured over with every word. The tissue box came in handy, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop opening up about the painful topics.
A significant amount of time breezed by, as I recounted my family’s death. The tale carried all the way from my suicide charge to the funeral. The astute therapist picked up on my feelings of guilt, for the failed defense of the cradle. The Terran was patient when I broke into hysterics, unable to speak for minutes. She then coaxed me into recalling good memories of my family, including the day my daughter, Hania, was born.
We touched on how I wanted the Arxur to suffer like I had, and how I came across Marcel’s patroller. With each passing day of staring into his eyes, I was reminded of every gory detail, as my daughter was ripped apart. The idea that humans were plotting that against the Venlil enraged me; Zarn’s intel convinced me that they were an evil race. Meanwhile, my own first officer was being enraptured by the monster?! It was unacceptable.
I had to kill Marcel. I wanted him off my ship, because I thought his thirst for blood defined him.
Kiara didn’t bat an eye, as I recounted my heinous acts. She allowed me to discuss the first evidence I saw of human empathy, at the border outposts. The therapist listened with calm nods, while I recounted the horror of seeing my homeworld demolished. My ignorance of humanity’s true nature caused that tragedy. Faced with video evidence of Terrans dying for our civilians, I couldn’t hide from the fact they could feel like us.
After that last word spilled from my mouth, I hugged a wad of tissues to my snotty nose. Perhaps she understood the cradle’s loss, given the undeserved attack on Earth. However, there was no question that I had brought condemnation on our race. That was without even broaching the topic of Cilany’s revelation, that our species was predatory ourselves.
Enough of Kiara’s time had been wasted, listening to me sob all over myself. I slumped my shoulders, and waited for her judgment.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” the human said. “I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been to have all of this on your chest, and to deal with such horrible loss alone. I am sorry.”
My head snapped up. “You are sorry? I just dumped my issues all over you.”
“You did no such thing. The intense emotional reactions you describe, as well as the flashbacks and the depression, all fit with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. What that means…in severe situations, trauma can cause lasting changes to your brain; you become stuck in that moment. There are steps we can take to mitigate your symptoms, including cognitive behavioral therapy and gradual exposure therapy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. We are well past our time, but this was an important first step. You did a great job opening up to me. I’d like you to come back tomorrow, so we can continue this conversation.”
“I guess I can. You…you’re a powerful listener. Humans are so attentive, with your eyes and all.”
The therapist set her notes down on the table, and walked me over to the door. It did feel a tiny bit easier to breathe, having shared my journey with someone without judgment. This “PTSD” label I’d heard yet again was a human misunderstanding; we knew that trauma could only spark rapid onset of underlying issues. But I did owe it to Marcel to continue these talking “treatments.”
Marcel wouldn’t have suggested this if he didn’t think it could help, so you have to give it a fair shake. Besides, Kiara seems like a nice enough person…just misguided.
Dr. Bahri pursed her lips. “Before you go, Sovlin, something you said about Marcel caught my attention. What do you mean by ‘his thirst for blood?’ Did he exhibit violent traits or behavior?”
“No, never,” I answered hastily. “I just mean your natural predator instincts. It’s actually amazing that your empathy suppresses those, without fail. You know, the whisper in your brain to eat us, whenever you’re hungry. Your desire to kill things when you look at them.”
“I beg your pardon? We have no such inclinations like you detailed. Is that what you think goes through my mind, when I look at you?”
“It's okay. I don’t judge you for it…I know you can’t help it.”
“Listen to me. I am telling you those ‘predator instincts’ don’t exist; there is nothing to suppress. Please look up the Venlil empathy tests, and see how we reacted to creatures in pain. Have you ever seen humans respond to blood and gore yourself?”
I nibbled at my claws, and encouraged my brain to ponder the question. On my first mission, when the UN military freed Gojids from that Arxur cattle ship, several soldiers had thrown up. The sight of Gojid corpses left Carlos ashen with disgust; I thought the aversion to gore was strange at the time. The blood hadn’t enticed them, though I’d wondered later if they were repelled by their own unwanted appetites.
“Humans were puking on the cattle ships,” I replied.
Kiara nodded for emphasis. “That is the normal response. We can be trained to kill, but our natural reaction is to be saddened by a creature in pain. To struggle to pull the trigger on anything we consider a person. Even trained soldiers often cannot shoot another human, when it comes down to it.”
“You’re seriously telling me there isn’t the slightest part of you that’s drawn to death?”
“Not at all. We don’t just look at an animal and want to kill it. I can guarantee the thought of harming Slanek never once crossed Marcel’s mind.”
“I see…Doctor. Tyler told me humans were aggressive, so I thought…”
“We can have tempers flare up, and aren’t always level-headed and cooperative. That doesn’t mean we like killing. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sovlin. Oh, and if you decide to share any of this, would you kindly spread the word that I’m not torturing anyone? I’m here to lend an ear to any ship member that needs it.”
“Okay. I’ll put the word out that I’ve…heard you only chat with people.”
My mind was reeling, as I departed from the therapist’s office. Humans had no reason to lie about their instincts, when they’d come clean about their darkest feelings. I had a hard time believing that full-blown predators enjoyed killing less than I did, but the evidence supported that claim. There was so much about the Earthlings that I didn’t understand.
It remained to be seen if these sessions offered any benefits, but I decided to go back for a few days. What else was I going to do, while we were docked on Venlil Prime? It would be nice to have a confidant, and if her hand-waving talk treatment had any effects, that miracle would be a welcome surprise.
A/N - Part 110 is here; it's mental health week in NOP! Sovlin gets therapy, as often-requested by the readers, and Dr. Bahri is taken aback to learn of the Federation's barbaric treatments. Will our Gojid narrator shows signs of improvement, after trying human methods on for size?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! Virnt will be taken for an examination next chapter, as we conclude our brief respite from death and destruction.
