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The Nature of Predators 30
🕑 Added 2022-07-23 17:48:22 +0000 UTCMemory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2136
Accompanying Marcel to visit his tormentor was my overarching desire, but persuading the predator proved an impossible task. It baffled me why he believed this confrontation was something he needed to tackle alone. The worry I felt for my human was tremendous; I couldn’t imagine how traumatic it was to encounter Sovlin, with the roles reversed.
Beyond that, it was terrifying to be stranded on Earth, without him to protect me. Whenever something frightened me, there was the comforting assurance that the vegetarian would fix it. I was beginning to understand that Marcel shielded me from the predatory side of humanity, to the best of his ability. Who was there to filter the stimuli around me now?
You need to get used to humans on your own, Slanek. Toughen up, I chided myself. That orphan toddler is twice as brave as you!
Nulia seemed anxious without her scarred predator; the poor thing must be fearful of being abandoned again. Tyler landed babysitting duty for the Gojid child, while her guardian was away. The meat-eater had finally retired to his room, trying to get both of them some shut-eye.
As babyish as it would have been, I wished I tagged along. Every shadow that danced on the wall seemed like a dog sneaking up on me. There was no chance of getting a wink of sleep, knowing I was trapped in a land of predators alone. How could any sane species leave their varmint alive?
With a frustrated sigh, I jabbed a claw on the remote. It was a bad idea to watch their television without supervision, but the boredom was stirring up the dark side of my imagination regardless. The screen opposite the bed flickered to life, set to a news channel by default. A stern-looking female had her intense, predatory eyes fixed on the camera.
“…ever trust the Federation?” she asked. “None of their information about predators has been correct. The continued survival of the human race is due to their astonishing incompetence; their fundamental lack of curiosity. You, your children, and your loved ones are vermin to be killed to them. These aliens take offense to your existence.”
“Not the Venlil!” I yipped, knowing that she couldn’t hear me.
“The UN ambassador and the Venlil governor never returned, from a summit where they tried to negotiate with these genocidal maniacs. At this point, we have to presume that Noah Williams was murdered. Maybe it’s time to give the Feds a dose of the predators they’re asking for. Is this why the Arxur turned on them? How were they really treated at first contact?”
That statement made my blood boil. How could any human argue with the mountain of footage, depicting Arxur sadism? It was an undisputed fact that the Federation uplifted those predators, gifting the means to blaze a trail of destruction. Hadn’t the Terran soldiers returned with stories of the grays rounding up cattle, and snacking on living Gojids mid-battle?
Surely, no humans bought this outrageous line of thinking. This had to be a sensationalist take to garner publicity for her broadcast. That, or it was satire. I failed to see the humor, but then again, I always took a literal interpretation of things. Terran comedy could be pretty dark and tasteless, from the jokes I heard on my deployment.
“Nothing excuses cannibalism and xenocide, to those who will inevitably take my words out of context. I just don’t see a reason to accept a bigot’s narrative, without any critical thinking. Recent intelligence suggests ship movement in the Krakotl…”
The hotel door clicked open without warning, which startled me upright. What if it was UN security guards, coming to secure my room with a dog? That creature was going to be my nightmare fuel for months; I could vividly picture it ripping off a Venlil limb, with a toss of its ugly head.
My fear morphed to relief as I saw it was Marcel, who bore an exhausted look on his face. The predator’s emotions must be depleted, after such a taxing journey. He flopped back-first on the bed, allowing the residual tension to ebb from his shoulders. I assaulted him with a hug, and ignored the groan as I knocked the wind out of him.
“Easy, buddy,” the human grunted. “It’s only been a day!”
I emitted a happy mewl, as he settled me onto his chest with his uninjured arm. The room’s dark environment felt much brighter, with my friend to shepherd me. Nothing could harm me when he was around; not even a dog. The human tickled my chin with a low chuckle, and I rested my paws atop his stomach.
My eyes met his piercing gaze. “I was worried sick about you. How did it go? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I…I think I’m ready to move forward,” he replied. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s talk about something else, alright?”
“Sure. How about what kind of predators humans are?”
“Shit, Slanek. Do we have to discuss that now? It’s 1 in the morning—”
“Yes, we do. You promised, and I think I deserve the truth. It’s like you don’t trust me, even after all we’ve been through together.”
Marcel searched my expression, a mix of concern and affection in his eyes. The human seemed reluctant to answer. His fear of losing me was palpable, from how his fingers tightened around my fur. What could be so sinister that it would alter my view of him, after all this time? I trusted him with my life; if my stupid instincts didn’t get in the way, I would take a bullet for him.
“It’s complicated,” he growled, after several seconds of silence. “Humans have employed every predation strategy in the book. Like Tyler said, dogs have helped us. We’ve set traps, used ambush tactics, fished, raised livestock…yes, I know you hate that word. But you asked.”
I tilted my head. “You said you weren’t ambush predators.”
“We’re versatile. Anyhow, what people claim we are, is one of the oldest hunting strategies known to mankind. It’s called persistence hunting.”
The human paused, as though expecting a dramatic reaction. My blank stare seemed to disappoint him; his lips curved downward even further. I could tell how much he disliked this topic, but we had already gotten this far.
Is that ‘persistence hunting’ phrase supposed to mean something to me?
“Continue? I don’t get it,” I pressed.
“Humans possess a high endurance, because of our sweating ability. We can run a lot longer…especially in the hot climates we originated in.” Marcel closed his eyes, unable to meet my gaze. “We were never faster than our prey. We just had more stamina. We chased them until they stopped running.”
A chill ran down my spine, as I processed the meaning of those words. Was he telling me that humans pursued their prey for hours…maybe even days? That they never tired, or gave up on a pursuit? Such an ordeal meant their quarry had an eternity to contemplate their demise. The victim spent their last day in a desperate, agonized flight. Their terror lasted much longer than the split second of an ambush.
My brain began to imagine running from a human, feeling the burning of my muscles and my lungs. The savage predator would draw closer, every time I paused to rest or dampened my pace. Knowing all the while that the second my legs gave out, my death was a certainty. There was no hope of escape, short of confronting the hunter.
What an awful way to go. Having your own body betray you, and languishing in a pool of chemical exhaustion. The predator would slowly approach, bloodlust in its eyes, signifying the end…I thought humans showed mercy? They conducted themselves like reasonable, kind, and feeling people; not relentless beasts that inflicted torment on the weak.
Tears streamed down my face, at the thought of my human partaking in that sort of predation. It felt awful, to think of him in that regard. If he was born a few thousand years ago, would he have chased helpless creatures through the scorching heat too? Was that what was coded in his instincts?
“Slanek? Gosh, you’re shaking.” Marcel rubbed my ear comfortingly. “Say something, please. Even if it’s that you hate me.”
Sadness seeped onto his expression, which knocked some sense back into me. It was painful to see how heartbroken he looked. I resisted the urge to swat his hand away, and attempted to regain my wits. The predator’s honesty was admirable, when he foretold precisely how I would react. I knew, in my soul, that my human would never dream of harming me.
It was time to stop fixating on their heritage, as much as anything predatory frightened my instincts. Humanity left their gruesome past behind, and had proven themselves more than capable of empathy. My spastic reactions were the product of a stupid, irrational phobia. I wanted to love them fully, without awful thoughts creeping into my head all the time.
“O…okay. P-persistence. Got it,” I stammered.
The human blinked. “What?”
“I accept you, f-for whatever you are, because I care about you. No matter what.”
The predator clutched me tighter, and restrained his own tears. It was important for Marcel to know that he didn’t have to apologize for his existence. After wrestling with wretched self-doubts, my acceptance was essential for his mental welfare. Humans didn’t need to alter themselves to prove they were worthy of our friendship.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Keep it between us, please. I’ll get in trouble for telling you.”
I flicked my ears. “Okay. That is an awful form of predation, which doesn’t exist on our world, so I get why you avoided the subject. But Tarva deserves to know. She would still stand by you; I’m certain.”
“I’d hope the governor would take heart, knowing the fruit our roots have borne. We just do the best with what we have in our toolset. Humans are survivors; whatever it takes, we have the resolve and the dedication.”
“How is that encouraging in any way, Marc?”
“Maybe it will help you to realize the lengths we would go for you, our Venlil friends. And you’ll know that we will hunt the Arxur to the ends of the universe; that there will be nowhere they can hide. We’ll battle a scourge like that as long as our species survives.”
Marcel’s argument was persuasive enough, when he phrased it like that. The Terran pledge to liberate sentient farm worlds, and all of their military aspirations, felt much more feasible. An arduous war wouldn't daunt humanity like it did for us.
I suppose there was another positive to their hunting methodology, in that it wasn’t a deceptive art. They had no reason to employ trickery, or extend a hand in a false friendship. This could be conveyed as a reason to trust humanity, if they played their cards right.
“You should get one of the UN people to ‘tell me.’ You’ll need to be more tactful with most Venlil; framing is everything.” I pinned my ears against my head, trying to keep a storm of negative emotions at bay. “I can think of a way to make your ancestry more palatable. Maybe just say you can withstand heat better, so you’re desert pursuit predators. Or shift the focus to your recent cattle practices.”
“Er, I’m not sure a close examination of factory farms is a good idea either. Never mind that. You took that better than I expected, by far, Slanek.”
“I want to stop panicking, but I don’t know how. My kneejerk reactions aren’t what I really think, once my brain comes around. But sometimes…usually, I can’t control it! You deserve a better friend.”
I ducked my head, feeling shame roll down my spine. Despite my constant efforts, my brain refused to forget that these lumbering primates were predators. My subconscious reminded me at every turn that humans weren’t like us, and that they could morph into feral beasts at any second. Marcel did deserve so much better.
All that time he wastes comforting me, and trying to calm me down. I’m a burden. A loser.
“Are you kidding? I got paired with the best Venlil.” Marcel offered his signature snarl, which was menacing yet gentle. “I wanted to be a part of the first contact program so bad. Do you know how many questions we had to answer?”
“30? 50? How many?”
“200, plus an in-person interview, a background check, and a psychological exam. All of my communications were analyzed since first contact, for any red flags. What was your selection process like?”
“I volunteered.”
“Um, right. I’m sure there weren’t a lot of takers for your position,” the red-haired human chuckled. “There was no guarantee that my partner would get past seeing me. You know from the stories around the outpost that some people didn’t.”
That was a true statement. Several Venlil fainted once in proximity of their penpals, and were taken to the infirmary. A smaller minority abandoned the program altogether, due to meeting their Terran counterparts.
I remembered how my fear had been almost painful that first day. It was no wonder a few Venlil found the humans too intimidating for cohabitation. Still, I couldn’t imagine how those predators felt, being rejected on sight after weeks of chatting.
The worst horror story was a Venlil that panicked at a human stepping into her room, and leapt into self-defense mode. She grabbed the nearest sharp object, which was a pair of scissors, and plunged it into the Terran’s shoulder. Her partner, while wounded, was able to wrestle the blade from her claws; the violence was not returned. The predator didn’t press charges, for some reason, despite Venlil government’s offer to prosecute.
Meanwhile, Marcel and I shared potato chips on our first day. Not the worst pairing he could’ve had, I suppose?
“Anyways. I talked to Lucy, you know, my fiancé, on the ride here. She wants me to come home, but I’ve gotten used to having you around.” Marcel took a deep breath, scratching his stubbly scalp. “Ah, maybe it’s not the right time to ask, after what I just told you.”
“No, I’m calm now. Go on.”
“How would you feel about living with us? You can come and go as you please. Any time you want to return to Venlil Prime, you don’t have to stay. But we’ll take care of all of your expenses, whenever you want to be here.”
I gaped at him. The idea of a permanent residence with my human filled my chest with warmth, but Earth was as alien as any world could get. A trial period was all I could commit to, to see how I handled prolonged exposure to a predatory environment. Would the UN…or technically, the regional government be okay with my staying?
“Er, I’ll think about it. Does that mean you’re going to receive a military discharge?”
“No. But I’ve requested a transfer home, so I can live planetside. I’ll only be involved with the defense of Earth, should that be necessary.”
“And what about Nulia? She needs you more than I do. She’d be devastated if she ends up in a camp, alone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! We’re going to adopt her. I already spoke with Meier about the necessary paperwork, and he’s going to contact the American State Department. They’re starting from scratch on that one, I think.”
The Gojid child would be elated. I wondered how being raised by predators would impact her development, but I knew she’d grow up in a loving environment. It was obvious the human considered her to be his own daughter, and would care for her accordingly. There wasn't a more touching tale, than to witness these pursuit hunters rescuing the children of a species that swore to destroy Earth.
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out… Mawsle,” I whispered.
“Why, you fluffy little shit!” The human glowered at me, while I feigned ignorance. “Don’t you dare start that, too! I can and will rescind my offer.”
I wagged my tail. “Too late. No takebacks.”
My family back on Venlil Prime would say I was suicidal to accept; but the more I thought about his proposition, the more enticing it seemed. Navigating humanity’s diplomatic hurdles, helping a predator raise a prey child, and protecting their planet from harm could be my new calling. Maybe one day, Earth would even feel like my home.
At any rate, free rent sounded pretty darn good to my ears.
A/N - Part 30 is here! The Tarva POV isn't quite done yet, and I was happy with how this turned out. Thought we should close off some questions about Marcel and Slanek before we launch into twists and turns of war and diplomacy.
As always, thanks for reading, supporting, and sharing your thoughts! An early draft of 31 (Tarva) will be here tomorrow for you guys, so hopefully back-to-back releases will be a nice treat.
