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The Nature of Predators 114
🕑 Added 2023-05-05 11:00:04 +0000 UTCMemory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: January 14, 2137
Standing in the cargo bay of the ship, gun in paw, numbness gripped my limbs. A spate of nightmares had plagued me throughout the journey, though they’d started in earnest on Venlil Prime. I often saw Marcel being held at gunpoint, or with an Arxur bullet drilling into his helmet. The fiery stampedes on both the cradle and Sillis were etched into my memories as well. Sometimes, it was realistic enough that I could feel ash worming its way down my throat.
It was as if my soul was missing in the downtime, with the lack of gunfire. In most visions, I found myself carrying a gun, like the one I toted now. Remembered emotions flooded back, and I envisioned my claws pulling the trigger. Reality made sense when I was on the battlefield; coming back to civilian life on Venlil Prime had been what was alien. In my heart, I knew Onso was right about professing my predator-diseased aggression.
Marcel hadn’t wanted to tempt fate, but I was itching to get back into the fray. The predator refused to let me go alone, even if he’d been involved in enough ground occupations for one year. I understood that this was what life was now, in order for humans to survive. Killing, killing, and more killing. Though…if I forgot the reason I was doing it all, my mind might collapse. By this third deployment, I hoped to detach from the horrors a little; violence was merely a certainty.
“When are you coming home, Mawsle?” Nulia’s voice trailed from his holopad, alongside a grainy image of the Gojid’s face. “You missed Cwismiss. I made a gingerbread house with Momma Lucy!”
The red-haired human smiled. “That’s awesome! I don’t know when I’ll be home. But with me…and Slanek gone, you had more to eat for yourselves. You don’t want the Salt Monster learning the joys of sugar, do you?”
“No! But…I miss you lots.”
The Terrans had gotten an FTL comms network up and running weeks ago, and the technology had finally been passed along to soldiers and civilians. It was easier than ever for humans to chat with aliens in allied systems, while also making it possible for troops to call their loved ones. I could admit a tinge of jealousy over Marcel’s calls with his family. He had people who he knew would accept him, and he also looked happier talking with them than me.
All that energy I spent caring about his welfare, and I would always be second-rate to him. It felt like I was on an island, without anyone to support me. Hell, Marcel had humiliated me in front of Sovlin, insisting on us rolling over like prey! There were some things that couldn’t be forgiven; I couldn’t believe he’d pushed me to talk to that Gojid.
I’m just happy we’ve left Monahan’s ship. I wish I took that Gojid’s head off while I had the chance…it’s a shame I was too injured to see it through.
I flexed my healed shoulder. “It’s time to get ready, Marc. We’re almost in range of Mileau.”
“Alright,” he hissed, perhaps sensing my jealous tone. “I’ve got to go, Nulia. You be good for your mother now, alright? You’ve got to do your chores.”
“Do I really have to?” the Gojid whined.
“You do, if you don’t want Santa to put you on the naughty list next…Cwismiss. If you’re good, you’ll be rewarded in the end. Besides, you want to make our lives easier, right? It’s been a hard year for us too.”
“Fine. I love you, Mawsle.”
“Love you too. Tell your mo—”
Marcel sighed, as the Gojid abruptly hung up. He fixed his hazel eyes on me, and shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way. The human tickled the tip of my tail, causing my bushy appendage to jerk away. Watching him flash his teeth in a playful manner, I felt a bit better. My dependency on my best friend for happiness might be unhealthy, but I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
Terran soldiers were filing into transports, preparing to detach from our current carrier once we neared the target. Mission objectives ranged from inserting boarding parties into enemy ships, to retaking space stations by force. Clearing out Mileau itself would be an arduous task; it had taken weeks for the Kolshians to set down roots, and it could take an equal amount of time for them to be removed. That was assuming we prevailed against their secretive fleet.
“It concerns me what conditions we’ll find the Dossur subjected to. To think that they hate us so much, that they’ll brutalize anyone who tries to befriend us,” Marcel growled.
I pinned my ears in hesitation. “Um, is it true that the Arxur fought alongside the Dossur? I know it’s a rumor, but it has me nervous they’re here. Every time we land, they seem to show up and kill everyone. We’re cursed.”
“Hey, it’s only happened twice, but there is a pattern forming there. Mileau might not want us two among the boots on the ground, buddy. Hell, I do feel a little cursed.”
“The Arxur. You’re dodging.”
“Yes…Chief Hunter Isif himself helped them at our request, or so I hear. The grays were only able to weed out a few thousand attackers, though that’s a handful we don’t have to face. We were able to get a couple hundred evac ships out because of his fleet, which took a beating for us.”
“The Kolshians gave a beatdown to the Arxur?!”
“You could say the kid gloves are off, Slanek. You could also say they had the power to stop the grays, and let billions die instead.”
I loaded onto a transport in silence, appalled by the truth of his words. The Federation allowed entire species to be genocided, and billions of sapients to be taken as cattle, to retain control. Had they really concealed their true power just to encourage fear? The Kolshians hadn’t wanted to win the war, and I couldn’t think of a single other reason why. That realization culminated in fury; I was raring to plunk a bullet into their skulls.
My biological brother died fighting the Arxur, because the Kolshians willed it so. Everything we’ve ever done has been frivolous! All of this haunting death was for naught…
Our transport had its own ability to monitor communications, and a digitized replica of the bridge’s viewport. We could transition between the host carrier’s eyes and our own, once we were cast into the stars. It was true that humanity had also faced numerical odds at Khoa and Sillis, and that they had triumphed all the same. By this point, I imagine the Kolshians had an answer for the shield-breakers, though.
While we were at less of a numerical disadvantage this time, assuming our new “allies” showed up, our fleet would mainly be comprised of prey races. The Terrans must be expecting them to be discombobulated liabilities, but the Duerten had been unequivocal about not accepting human direction or crew. We’d raised thirty-five thousand of our own ships, but only seven thousand of those were UN vessels.
At least the Duerten had showed up—the military staff at the briefing hadn’t been certain they’d uphold the deal. As one of the galaxy’s two avian species, they were oddballs even before humanity’s announcement. Their support ships were nothing groundbreaking, but they were able to raise an army to retake Mileau in a few weeks. Their fleet was waiting on the fringes of the Dossur’s system, prior to our arrival.
According to the initial communications coming through on our systems, they were calling their alliance the Duerten Shield. They’d gotten 44 races to donate a few hundred ships each, which was more than our prior total of allied species. I suppose we couldn’t argue about their effectiveness, despite the flippant demeanor they hurled at humanity.
“We are going to attack now. You predators will help,” a Duerten commander spoke curtly to the human fleet.
The UN’s reply was instant and unfazed. “Copy that. We’re right behind you, Duerten Shield.”
The Terran armada was laden with novelties, and our newer vessels had a barebones crew thanks to the automation of duties. The plan was for older vessels to be retired or retrofitted to require less personnel. However, Earth’s current focus was sending out anything with guns and FTL engines. They wouldn’t be scrapping any ships that had endured the prior battles. That was why Captain Monahan and our Sovlin-bonded idiot friend, Tyler, were being sent to enemy-occupied territory at the Federation’s heart.
Automated vessels pressed forward on the UN’s front lines, though the foolhardy Duerten insisted on leading the charge. Our hospital ships lingered on the fringes, ready to move in as needed. According to Marcel, humans considered such vessels noncombatants, but I imagined the Kolshians thought any predator ship was fair game.
“Here we go,” Marcel murmured.
Thousands of enemy ships approached on the viewport feed, pulling away from patrols of the system. They had been ready to face intruders at a moment’s notice. Mileau was encased by a multi-layered defense, and various stations were also fortified to the max. The Kolshians had ships that I didn’t even recognize from Federation classes: for instance, cylindrical vessels that looked like a drainage pipe, and odd pyramidal craft. A few executed maneuvers that would’ve killed any crew. Either they had inertial dampeners that broke the laws of physics, or more likely…they had drones.
The Kolshians couldn’t have figured out and built autonomous ships in a month. The Terrans aren’t the only ones to think of such a thing?
My human’s hazel eyes stretched wide, with the same realization. “Since when do they have drones? You didn’t even know what those are, Slanek.”
Similar chatter erupted among the soldiers, with many offering some vulgar words about our enemies. Other predators clad in armor were crammed into my transport, as we were packed in for deployment. The plan for our particular unit was to retake a civilian research station, close to an outer planet. That meant getting past this Kolshian fleet; they’d seemed to have dropped the prey façade entirely.
That meant that humans were their first threat that required them to uncork their true power. Even the Arxur never offered a true challenge to their stranglehold on the galaxy, despite being presented as an undefeatable menace. It was clear in the Kolshian-Farsul arrangement which ones were the enforcers, and which ones were the brains.
“They have these since they realized you have drones,” I answered. “Or rather, they show that they have it.”
Marcel chewed his lower lip. “Of course. A manned vessel can’t make decisions at the same speed. Fight fire with fire. Good thing we stepped up our game too.”
The high-stakes clash had commenced on our screens; humanity was following the cues of our so-called friends, who led a reckless charge. Kolshian drones were clinically dissecting the first Duerten Shield ships to draw within firing range. The oddly-shaped enemies made targeting wonky, and forced the avian alliance to switch to manual firing. Even a human would have difficulty targeting a computer-piloted craft, with its calculating ability.
The Duerten panicked, tossing out munitions without aiming at all. The Federation was unrelenting against our allies, dispatching missiles amidst their ranks. More gasps came from the humans, as Duerten shielding flickered out across the front line. I was inclined to believe that particular weapon was reverse engineered. The Shield’s neat V-formation was collapsing, and ships nestled behind the leaders retreated toward the UN ranks. Perhaps they should’ve let us lead the way after all.
I guess we’ll see what Marcel was saying about stepping up their game. It follows that he was referring to drones, but what improvements could they make?
Sensing my confusion, the vegetarian gestured to an inlaid sensor feed. In the vastness of space, the tiny specks were nigh invisible; the microscopic craft barely registered on the data screen either. Even with the viewport zoomed in to the maximum magnification, I wasn’t sure these Terran miniatures were visible to the naked eye. It was easy for an unassuming Kolshian to write them off as debris.
“Can something that small even scratch a ship?” I felt a shudder pass through the carrier, as a wave of our cruisers and fighters dispatched to save the scattered Duerten. “I don’t get how it could have any guns or missiles.”
Marcel grinned. “Ah, Slanek. It is the missile.”
The humans’ larger drones dispatched a series of shield-breaking missiles, which the Kolshian craft tried in earnest to deflect. Enough slipped through to cause shield outages, and our nanodrones closed the gap all the while. The United Nations hurled traditional munitions at the enemy, making them think our sole play was shield damage. Seconds later, miniature craft detonated across Federation hulls; dozens of orange twinkles ravaged single enemies.
Explosions were generally inadvisable right atop the engine compartment, and these drones were tiny enough to slip through armor chinks. Surviving Kolshian automatons pulled back to regroup and recalibrate shields. The Duerten Shield lingered with uncertainty, as we pressed ahead toward Mileau. The avian alliance was still reeling; they’d lost thousands of ships to our nemesis’ unexpected technology.
There was no shortage of enemy vessels remaining within Mileau’s surrounding vicinity. Our allies were a bunch of dunces, and the Kolshians had a nearly endless supply of ships to throw at us. The humans needed to fight their way close enough to deploy foot soldiers, while turning twenty-eight thousand liabilities into a serviceable force. Perhaps the Duerten were more willing to follow our direction now, with their pride wounded.
“Duerten Shield, why don’t you let us head in first?” The UN transmitted a message over the communication channel. A few soldiers in the transport were scoffing at the avians’ showing; the Duerten talked a lot of smack, only to be humbled so quickly. “You can fill in the gaps and the flanks, playing a supporting role. You’re good at that.”
“You’re m-manipulating us!” answered a shaken avian. “You don’t order us around. We won’t answer to your whims and wants. You disgust us.”
“Well, whether you like us or not, we’re on the same side of this battle. This is what you wanted: humans handling the brunt of this mission. You’d rather have us predators dying than your own people. Don’t make me beg to have my troops perish for you.”
“I…”
“You know we can fight. That’s all you think predators do, right? Sit back and let us kill these bastards. Now we’re moving in, before the drones get set up. Let’s go, alright?”
“Fine. This is very temporary!”
“I sure hope so,” Marcel grumbled. “I wouldn’t want those guys watching our backs.”
The human ships pushed further into the system, carving out a path for their herbivore allies to follow. Most species would’ve turned back, with such severe adversity out of the gate. As everyone knew, the Terrans weren’t “most species.” The Kolshians were rallying more ships to our locale; the worst of the battle was yet to come. I gripped my harness tightly, and prepared for the duel of titans that was about to play out.
These were the opening shots of a clash with humanity’s toughest opponent yet.
A/N - Part 114 is here! Slanek and Marcel are sent to Mileau, as humanity and the Duerten shield face off with the Kolshians. Among the startling revelations, the Kolshians have been concealing their own drone technology, and have reverse engineered our shield-breakers. Will the UN be able to insert its soldiers to key targets, and/or conquer the daunting fleet?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
Danny Luca
This makes me almost not hate them
Byron Ritchie
I’ve called will a tsundere but the duerten are an entire race of tsunderes
Ash
Fuck therapy, Slanek the Venlil Doom Slayer let’s goooo!!!
