The Nature of Predators [Book Chapter #1]

A/N - Putting the A/N up here! I'm trying to work in some rest days to my schedule so it's a bit more sustainable, and to be honest, I just needed one. People often ask me what's changed about the book rewrites, so I thought that I should put this here for you guys, the patrons, in a clear and easy to access format. Hope this is a welcome substitute and change of pace. Sovlin will return on Wednesday for the back half of his series!

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!

Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136

There were two known instances of a predatory species achieving sapience in the galaxy.

The Arxur were the first to be discovered, and, as an anomaly, sparked the Federation’s curiosity. By previous hypotheses on intelligence, their existence was impossible. Conventional wisdom stated that cooperation led to higher thinking, which in turn, led to the formation of technological societies. A predator’s natural instinct for aggression should have limited their evolution.

But it turned out that there was another motivator for technological progress; war. The Arxur derived pleasure from killing each other, and in doing so, managed to claw their way to an industrial stage. Their warfare was so deadly that we feared they would become extinct before we could study them.

The Federation saw their cruelty, but in our naivety, we thought we could change them. If we uplifted them, there would be no logical reason for their destructive ways to persist. Thus, we made our worst mistake: we decided to intervene.

It was out of our kindness that we unleashed the galaxy’s worst monsters. We gave genocidal maniacs the means to escape their planet, and all but invited them to our doorstep. The Federation was an easy target to them, and they set out to claim our territories for themselves. They torched worlds, enslaved millions, and bred our children as delicacies. Our pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears; predators had no sense of compassion to appeal to, after all.

The Federation rallied together to fend them off, and began the ceaseless war for our survival. From that point onward, it was agreed that no predatory species could be allowed to reach the stars. Their kind were too great of a threat to the civilized universe.

Little known to the public, scientists discovered a second predatory sapient a few centuries ago. Much like the Arxur, they slaughtered and committed atrocities against their own; it was visible from their broadcasts. The Federation voted to exterminate them, before it was too late.

But while we spent decades drafting termination plans, hundreds of nuclear explosions were detected across the planet. Our strategists concluded, with a grim sense of relief, that they had wiped themselves out. The species was forgotten, mentioned only as an asterisk to the Arxur’s unique predator status.

Yet now, my advisors were digging every record of these predators off of the internet. There was a vessel inbound for our world, with a subspace trail pointing back to the planet Earth.

—

The mood was somber in the governor’s mansion, bearing knowledge of our impending doom. Our early detection systems had been anything but early, when they picked up the single ship bound for Venlil Prime. Fittingly, our planet was best known for weakness; we were reviled by our own allies, yet remained a key launchpoint for the Federation. I pored over the records of humanity, though I could hardly read in my fear-stricken state.

This couldn’t be happening to our homeworld. My cabinet clustered around me with blank stares, unable to offer suggestions. The dossier on humanity was available on my holopad; it told us everything about their playbook with new frontiers. Now that this lone ship had discovered us, they would summon their military.

“Governor Tarva.” My military advisor, General Kam, was growing more impatient by the minute. It was obvious that he wanted to be cleared for action. “Please, I beg you. We must try to shoot them down.”

“Are you certain we cannot evacuate the planet?” I asked.

My voice was steady, somehow remaining free of a stutter. The Federation had images of humanity in their file, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. They were concealed by a disclaimer, cautioning that the species could cause psychological damage. They were horrendous both in form and actions.

The burden of being a leader, and having the fate of my species in my paws. Just sending people to bunkers will kill thousands by stampede. An unknown predator, believed dead, warping out of nowhere…

Kam sighed. “You know the answer, ma’am. They were within orbital range by the time we detected them. It’s already too late.”

“I know how dire this seems. But you cannot tell me it’s too late.” A grimace stretched across my features, and the stutter slipped through at last. This emergency had been known for minutes, and the strain was unbearable. “G-give me something to work with! Our world is in the balance.”

“We haven’t fired a single shot at them! Maybe we can take them out, before they report back to the rest of their pack.”

“It doesn’t matter, General. The humans know where their prowling ships went. Did you not read a word about the extent of their wars? This species…has a policy of violence and bloodthirst.”

“We can handle the first ship. I don’t know why these creatures are not extinct, but maybe they’ve weakened themselves. The Federation’s survived the Arxur for centuries; they could help. We can’t let the Venlil join the dead worlds.”

Our relays were broadcasting a planetary distress signal to nearby systems, from the moment we identified the human ship. With any luck, a messenger station at a colony would pass it along to our neighbors. The call for help was in vain, of course; it would take hours for our Federation allies to reach us. By the time they arrived, our world would be reduced to rubble. At least someone would investigate our death, and hopefully, put the pieces together. 

General Kam jabbed a claw at me. “There’s only one reason a predator takes a straight shot to our planet. These humans haven’t bombed us yet, so we could stop them.”

“The answer is no!” I spat. “No to shooting down that ship, and launching us into another war. No to bringing torment and annihilation down upon our heads.”

“Ma’am…Tarva, why won’t you listen to me? I’ve been with you from the start. I’m the only one offering suggestions in this room, while the rest of your team sits around and cries! I’m not keen on waiting to see what nightmares humans dream up for us.”

Was there any way to stop the coming onslaught? Perhaps General Kam was right, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to send soldiers to face apex killers. What little was left of my logic told me to plead for mercy, despite how that had never worked with the Arxur. We could convince these humans we were a worthier catch alive than dead.

Was enslavement preferable to death? It was doubtful, but I didn’t see another way to bargain for my race’s survival. There was nothing else to be done; at least, nothing that would avoid full-blown conflict erupting in our system. I couldn’t stomach more violence, or watch children plucked up from our streets.

These humans live close to us, according to the dossier. They’d launch harbingers of death at us, and be willing to expend their lives to see us suffer.

We were right in their backyard; it would be a logistical nightmare for the Federation, to fend off constant invasions. To put it simply, we couldn’t divert resources to another army of predators. Our people didn’t have the manpower or the spirit. Local forces were depleted from a recent Arxur incursion, which was thwarted by the slimmest of margins. The humans caught us at a time of maximum vulnerability; there was no chance to fight or flee.

As difficult as it was to surrender our home, it was the only option. This initial vessel would be the lightest force we’d get, so we could avoid being mobbed by millions of these things. The less predators were garrisoned in my system, the higher the quality of life would be. How many of us could a single shipload of humans eat, anyways?

“The predators are here, and they could still attack on a whim. Send out an emergency alert. Get the civilians to bomb shelters immediately.” I stared at my paws, cursing the day I chose to run for office. “Contact the incoming ship. I—I will personally offer our unconditional s-surrender.”

“Surrender? Without firing a single shot?!” the advisor growled.

“Perhaps they’ll be kinder than the Arxur. My hope is they’ll spare the children.” The video tapes of our children, lined up in front of the gray reptilians and shot by a mass grave, rolled in my mind. It was their way of taunting us. “At worst, we can buy some time. But if we fight, they’ll kill us all.”

I swiveled my chair away from the advisor, signaling that the discussion was over. An aide propped a camera in front of me, and with a swish of my tail, I showed that I was ready. Fear swelled in my throat as we hailed the vessel on all frequencies. Would these creatures even answer? Predators didn’t talk to prey, except to toy with them. Perhaps they would pick up, just to laugh at our desperation and weakness.

To my surprise, the inbound ship accepted our transmission. A brown-skinned being appeared on screen, sitting in some sort of pilot’s chair. The words of our surrender were almost to my lips when its forward-facing eyes locked with mine. To my horror, it bared its teeth in a vicious snarl. Its sharp, hungry stare halted my thought process, sending my instincts into a primal cascade.

Of course, the humans didn’t know what we looked like. Seeing a weak, defenseless prey creature as the native race…they’re delighted. I should’ve never contacted them.

This thing was feral! The hostility was unmistakable in its expression. Its pupils never left its own camera, and I could feel them jumping out from my screen. I was grateful I hadn’t looked at the Federation’s stock images of humans, since this monstrosity was bone-chilling. Several Venlil advisors passed out, thankfully off-camera.

I struggled to remain upright, as my breathing hitched. The human continued to assert its dominance, and it leaned forward to enlarge its face. It waved a fleshy appendage by the lens, showing off an odd lack of claws. In my heart, I could only conceive of it as a threat to gut me. There was movement near its lips, which caused muscles to ripple on its furless chin.

It uttered a few words in a guttural dialect, which I assumed was an announcement of our impending doom. The translator tingled by my ear, pressing the meaning into my mind. I took a shaky breath, certain the machine was wrong.

Hello. We come in peace, on behalf of the human race.

I stared at it, lost for words. “Peace? What?”

Our speech synthesizer hardware spit out my question in the guttural language. Surprise flashed in its ravenous pupils as it heard the Terran dialect, though it recovered quickly. It seemed unsure of how to continue its see-through ruse; those words could’ve been a cruel joke, assuming we wouldn’t understand.

The predator closed its maw, tilting its head. “Did that translate wrong? You know, peace? Friendship?”

“Yes…I know what p-peace means,” I stammered. “Why would you w-want that?”

“Why would you not?” It seemed almost taken aback. “My people have looked to the stars for a long time and wondered if there was anyone else out there. I’m happy to have an answer, and to know we’re not alone.”

“You speak of peace, but you can’t keep the snarl off your face, predator!” Kam interjected.

Shut up, Kam! Let it spell out its deceit.

“What? I don’t…” it trailed off, as though something occurred to it. “You mean the ‘smile’, don’t you? I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, really.”

“Smile? What does that word mean?” I asked hesitantly.

“Er, it’s how humans show happiness and good will. Our lips curve up and...” It rubbed its forehead with a soft appendage. “Can we start over? I’m Noah. We’re here on a mission of peaceful exploration.”

Noah really expected us to believe that flashing teeth was meant as a friendly gesture?! No, this had to be some sort of twisted game. These humans had come well out of the way from Earth, traveling light-years for a useful catch. Predators didn’t do “peaceful exploration.” They trampled everything in their path and then burned it for good measure. 

The face on my screen was a walking nightmare, and its wielder was bearing down on my planet. I racked my mind for the reasons for its deceit. It must not realize that we knew what it was, so it was having fun at our expense. We could use that to our advantage; maybe it would be possible to await Federation reinforcements.

At least it wasn’t killing us immediately. What choice did I have but to play along?

So I gazed into those animal eyes, and tried to keep my voice level. “I’m Governor Tarva. Welcome to Venlil Prime.”

“Thanks,” the human said. “I must admit, we were quite surprised to receive your transmission.”

“Y-you were? Why did you come here, if you didn’t detect us?”

“We’re from a planet called Earth, rich in water and oxygen. One of science’s nagging questions has been the origin of life. Our mission was to examine worlds similar to our own, and yours was the perfect candidate.”

“You suspected we had the conditions for life, then.”

“Well, yes, but every reasonable scientist back home thought our ‘first contact’ would be a primitive lifeform. I remember watching as NASA, my space agency, drilled on Europa. The whole world hoped for a sign! Suffice to say, even finding a single-celled organism in your oceans would’ve been a major victory.”

“Why would you care?”

“Um, we were starting to think we were the only instance of life arising. People like us two, we spend our whole lives dreaming of this moment…risking everything in the name of discovery. But now, finding a full-fledged, technological civilization; it’s wondrous. One that not only spotted us, but seems to understand what we are too.”

“You keep using the first person, plural. Who is we?”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Noah pivoted the camera to the side, revealing another human sitting at a console. This one had a longer mane, and a slightly less imposing stature. “This is Sara, my co-pilot. She’s logging all of this for our records.”

“That’s right,” it agreed. “Sara Rosario with ESA, different space agency. I’m not much of a talker…and honestly, I’m a little overwhelmed right now. I’m still processing that we’re chatting live with aliens. But Noah runs his mouth enough for both of us, anyways.”

The captain’s eyebrows shot up. “I do not!”

“You do too. I’ve seen streamers that talk less than you, my friend.”

For a brief moment, watching their playful banter, I saw a kindred intelligence in them. It shocked me to the core to hear a human, so casually calling another a friend. Could it really be possible that they had benevolent intent, and that they bonded with each other? My logical brain kicked in a second later, and the illusion dissolved with a cold certainty. 

Those predators aren’t searching for life for ‘science’, I chided myself. They’re looking for prey. It’s an interstellar hunting expedition.

This was the humans’ first realization that other intelligent life existed. All these measured words were a way of testing the waters, searching for any signs of weakness. We couldn’t clue them in to the fact that they were different. Perhaps if we kept it together, with minimal indications of empathy or fear, they would leave of their own accord. 

Despite my misgivings, our best bet might be to treat this like an ordinary first contact situation.

“What would you say to seeing Venlil Prime firsthand? As esteemed guests of the Republic, of course.”

Noah’s eyes sparkled. “It would be an honor.”

“Governor, we’d love to learn everything about your planet,” Sara added. “It’s an entirely new ecosystem to explore.”

It was an entirely new ecosystem to our sickening guests—one that was free of brutal conquerors, before they landed, at least. These humans were here to wreck our idyllic lives, and compound the suffering that plagued the galaxy. I was sure they would like to learn everything about my world, just to use it in their coming takeover. There was no chance that this plan would go well, but I would soon be welcoming a predator in the flesh.

That realization terrified me more than anything ever had.