The Nature of Predators - The New Arxur (2/10)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Raza, Arxur Collective Operative

Date [standardized human time]: August 18, 2154

The command palace was dark and foreboding on the outside, like most architecture on Wriss; many buildings to this day still didn’t have electric lighting, since it was deemed unnecessary for our nocturnal preferences. Chief Hunter Isif had complained about the fluorescent bulbs on a human colony called Liberty’s Bastion, yet he’d installed some fixtures to accommodate foreign diplomats. He told me a story about a Terran diplomat named Elias Meier, who’d visited him at a hotel by the moon of a Sol system gas giant; Isif believed the diurnal omnivore had been perturbed by the darkness in his room. Was I strange to wish I could see a city that was not only noisy, but bright and cheery? While others complained about the sun burning their scales, I loved basking in the heat.

It was the reason I’d be well-suited to diplomacy with the rest of the galaxy, who were largely diurnal and slapped bright lights on everything. It also made me valuable as an operative, that I didn’t lose functionality during the daytime hours when most Arxur were asleep. While it was easier to be spotted from afar under the sunlight, there was foot traffic everywhere in the evenings. I stared up at the giant searchlights mounted on our watchtowers, which wheeled cones of illumination across the courtyard; artificial lighting had some benefits to the Arxur Collective, forcing any unwanted visitors out of the shadows. Spikes were buried off the beaten path as well, and would rise sporadically to impale anyone who slunk through the grass. Security measures were necessary to prevent Betterment sympathizers from taking Isif out.

The Chief Hunter surrounds himself with trustworthy rebel officers: Arxur who owe their lives to him, and know that he was the one who caught Giznel and Nikonus colluding. He can defend himself too.

“I never finished my joke. Why is it easy to confuse Zefriss and the moon?” Hysran hissed.

Zefriss parted his mouth threateningly, not happy that our budding comic was now working him into her jokes. “Because we’d both rather be in orbit than walking next to you?”

“No! Because you’re both gaseous.”

I snickered in spite of myself, amused that the cantankerous Arxur was the subject of her mockery. “Finally, a good joke, Hysran.”

“How can you like that one? She’s barely even trying anymore!” Zefriss protested, making a claw swipe toward me that almost grazed my snout. “What’s the point of these terrible puns? There are no jokes in Arxur culture. They’re unserious drivel with no purpose. What do you gain if we laugh at your stupidity?”

“It’s fun. I know you wouldn’t have any concept of fun, huffing and puffing as you do, but it’s this silly idea where you actually enjoy life,” Hysran retorted. 

“I enjoy life plenty! I enjoy sleeping, walking, and eating: especially that cloned hensa meat that pissed off the Yotul. Those things have biological purposes, which we’re meant to enjoy.”

“Arxur are always so grim and serious. We literally ate people and bred them like animals, but we laughed as we tortured them—not even two decades ago. I don’t know if you gain anything from laughing, at torture or at jokes, but clearly, mirth is a part of us. So I’ll keep making light of everything, and annoying you!”

“What do you think of this idiocy, Raza? Not all defective pursuits have value!”

I flared my nostrils. “I think…if all you enjoy is eating and sleeping, that’s hardly beyond the realm of animals. Our brains have a biological purpose too, even if I’m not convinced Hysran is using hers.”

“I knew you’d side with me!” Hysran celebrated. “What do you enjoy in life, Raza?”

“Talking to people. Seeing new places. Tliskis. Most of all, politics.”

“You’re practically a human,” Zefriss complained.

I narrowed my eyes, as we walked into the palace’s entry hall. “What’s wrong with humans? By all accounts, they’re successful predators who can adapt to anything—and who are much more tolerant than us.”

“If you’d ever talked to one of those chatterbox apes, you’d know. Their ambassador isn’t fooling anyone, wearing animal skins around and mounting stuffed heads on their embassy’s walls. Pretending to be some tough, wild man, until you accidentally get him talking about his kid’s ‘soccer’ games. Dreadful!”

“How would you know, Zefriss?”

“I might’ve poked my head in the UN embassy because I was…hrrr, curious.”

“You? Curious?”

“That sounds nothing like you,” Hysran agreed.

A growl rumbled in Zefriss’ throat. “Shut up! We’re about to see the Chief Hunter.”

Chief Hunter Isif was growing old, and perhaps a bit infirm, with injuries from decades ago catching up to him; his bones creaked when he moved, and he growled about aches when standing. Perhaps it was his advanced age—ancient for an Arxur—that had emboldened Ilthiss to stand up against him. The tactical mind that had overthrown Betterment, and made him successful in his sectors’ battles over the years, still remained. Taking the seditious, rural provinces of Sefturna and Kiznith had been a sweeping success, rolling in tanks and even digging tunnels into enemy territory—Ilthiss and Usliff called the latter a cowardly display. I, on the other hand, thought it was progress; strength was winning, by another name. 

Getting our troops into the biggest cities, with the Sefturna Sniper prowling the roads as a one-person army, was difficult; the stories had a life of their own, and had I not seen the intelligence reports myself, I would’ve believed the kill count to be a fantastical exaggeration. To think Ilthiss called us cowards, then resorted to hiding away for far-off murders. Tracking down this individual, I had thought, was our highest priority. We needed to deal a morale blow to the rogue Provincers, and take away the recruiting campaign slogan about learning to be the deadliest killers. To keep the cities like Cruelty’s Maw, we needed the assurance of not getting picked off before we knew what hit us. 

What could be more important than finding the greatest organic asset in Wriss’ history? I question why Isif has summoned us. As much as I want to transition to a diplomatic post, what we were all doing was critical. I don’t know what would become of Zefriss and Hysran without me; we’d likely part ways, since they abhor the political realm.

“Your Victoriousness.” That title was an upgrade to the Chief Hunters’ honorific, Your Savageness, under the Dominion. I averted my eyes from Isif’s throne, which was made of preserved Arxur bones, and handed him the written note of our findings. “A source near the Kiznith border spoke of rumors, that the Sefturna Sniper uses Death’s Pass to cross between the provinces.”

Isif’s eyes gleamed. “Death’s Pass: the infamous one in the Kizniftor Mountains? That is the most perilous climbing trail on all of Wriss, is it not?”

“Yes, that’s the one. An ancient trailhead for a long-gone mountain tribe, that’s been inaccessible since the Great Avalanche two hundred years ago. Icy cliffs with delicate footholds—or outright no footholds at all—that must be climbed to ascend, and unstable ledges that could crumble in a wrong gust, on the Sefturna side. That’s before you have a steep, nearly straight-down slope on the Kiznith border. Turn that in reverse for the journey the opposite direction.”

“If my memory is not mistaken, my understanding is that most Arxur do not come back alive attempting it once, yes? And this Sefturna Sniper is, according to this source of yours, crossing it on a regular basis without dying. I am not sure how much credibility to vest in this story.” 

“That’s what I was saying, sir,” Zefriss commented meekly. 

I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting Isif to dismiss the story on account of my skeptical colleagues. “Zefriss has been nothing but skeptical of any intelligence about the Sefturna Sniper, down to their very existence, and I myself considered this may be a rumor…part of the legend. However, it would explain how the Sniper gets around undetected; who would look there? Who would be able to get up there? My source had…some proof, in the form of there being regular patrols by that trailhead. It doesn’t seem an important place to guard otherwise.”

“What do you think of the given evidence, Zefriss?” Chief Hunter Isif inquired. “I should like to hear all of your opinions freely.”

“Hmph.” The male Arxur’s eyes darted toward me, before casting a glance toward the bandage over the bullet wound on his tail. “What Raza considers proof never ceases to confound me. It seems a sorry rumor to risk our hide, crossing war-torn regions, to carry back, sir. While I shouldn’t like to come back empty-jawed, this attempt is doing less to save face than to say it did not pan out.”

“I would not do such a thing! Do you not know me well enough, after growing up, training, and serving together for a decade, to attest to that simple fact?!” I hissed.

“I trust you as a leader, but do not trust you to admit you achieved nothing. It is not in an authority figure’s interest to admit such things. I cannot see a lick of substantiated proof.”

“That’s how rumors work, Zefriss! People tell you things, and you make a judgment call if it merits investigating. That’s what I do, and I can read Arxur in a way that only defectives can. What I could tell was that our source believed this was true, so there might be something to it.”

“Might? I rest my case. I hope that unchecked empathy doesn’t mean an Arxur must believe everything that is said, Raza.”

Isif turned his eyes toward Hysran, as I struggled to contain my frustration with Zefriss: that damn Arxur never hid what he really thought. “I said I would like to hear all of your opinions. What do you think, Hysran?”

“I think Zefriss is angry about the bullet lodged in his tail. That makes it more difficult to lash it all day, so that everyone can see that he’s tired of our company,” Hysran deadpanned.

“Serious answers. What would you make of the Death’s Pass rumors, if you were myself?”

“I don’t know what I would think if I was a Chief Hunter. I can only speak to what I believe, as me.” The comical Arxur stared at me for a long moment, perhaps recalling that I’d taken her side when Zefriss lambasted her interest. Come to think of it, that might have been why the male was so bold critiquing me with Isif; his ego was likely chafed from that. “I believe in Raza’s intellect enough to assume she wouldn’t have us chasing rumors for no reason. It’s also not like we have any other leads on the Sefturna Sniper.”

“What if it’s a complete fabrication, a dead end?” Zefriss scoffed.

“It can’t hurt to investigate, though since the conditions are inhospitable to drones and Arxur, I can’t say how.”

“Orbital surveillance,” I suggested swiftly. “Their anti-satellite weapons might take out anything that tries to spy on them, but spaceships could move in and take quick peeks at that region a few times a day. It would take hours for anyone to cross that pass, so it’s not like we’d miss them if they travel it eventually.”

Isif’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “And if nothing turns up, then it is ruled out as holding any veracity. I will have my ships look into it, and let you know if we turn up any movement. This is a suitable resolution, yes?”

“It is, sir. Thank you. I am happy to be of service to the Collective.”

“I hope you will be equally happy with the request I summoned you for; it is of the utmost importance, and I need a team I can trust. This emergent situation is most strange.”

“Strange, in what way? I’m ready for anything my planet demands, Your Victoriousness.”

The elderly Arxur chuckled. “I hope that is the case. Yesterday, a Nevok ship arrived in our space, and its occupant requested to, hsss, be granted citizenship on Wriss.”

“What?” Zefriss spat. “A sniveling Federation leaf-licker, moving to Wriss? They spit on us and our culture. You cannot possibly allow this, Chief Hunter!”

“Yet I already have. It is not without its difficulties, but I recognize this Nevok immigrant as an opportunity to set a precedent, where non-Arxur could be welcomed as equals under the law and live here without harm befalling them. To prove that we could do this, it would give us a great bargaining tool with the Sapient Coalition, do you not think so? It would demonstrate the change in our behavior, and also give us something to distract them with, so they do not pry into the war.”

Hysran narrowed her eyes. “How did this…Nevok even get in here, past the SC quarantine?”

“The SC’s quarantine is to keep us in our isolation bubble, not to keep others out. The Nevok ship was checked for weapons to ensure that he did not intend to attack us. He stated he was a trader, and was allowed to pass. They do not stop their own from freely associating with us.”

“Hrrr.” I mulled over the situation for several seconds, collecting my thoughts to regurgitate them to the Chief Hunter. As much as I’d love to engage with a member of a properly social species and learn about faraway worlds…and while I saw the political advantages, this was a bad idea. “If I might be so bold, I don’t see why the Nevok would choose to live on Wriss. Are they suicidal? I don’t share your faith that they would be able to…live here without harm befalling them, since plenty of Arxur see them as food still.”

“I know that it will not be safe for the Nevok to travel in any areas settled by Arxur. That’s the reason I have assigned you and your team to guard the herbivore, and see that he is not eaten or otherwise assailed while traversing Wriss.” 

“Our new assignment is to protect some feeble, squeaky prey creature?! How beneath a Collective operative!” Zefriss snarled. “That’s what you recalled us for?”

“Yes, it is, though you will find he is not so defenseless. In regards to the why, the Nevok—Hossat is his name—has some form of predator disease diagnosis on his home planet, related to what could be called sociopathy. As I am told from his words, he wishes to live here because sociopathy is accepted and even the norm. He also wishes to live somewhere he can be allowed to engage in violence, and gain from such pursuits. Even the humans, a ‘soft and social species’ in his words, would not accept him as he is.”

“The Nevok outright said he wants to gain from violence. Is that the type of person we want in our new, changed Collective?!” I challenged. “Hossat sounds about as good as an empathyless, violence-loving Betterment lackey.”

“I believe the correct word is mercenary. When Ittel—ah, the Nevok homeworld—condoned Hossat’s forays into corporate espionage, and achieving his goals by whatever means he deemed fit, there was no issue. They only charged him with predator disease when he failed to cover up one of his…sanctioned hits. He lives for the thrill, and will not abide a quiet life. I saw the potential to utilize him as an operative. So long as we tell him to do a job and pay him decently, he can be most useful.”

Zefriss’ anger was growing incandescent, as he seemed to forget any semblance of decorum. “You’re making a Nevok an operative, like us? You want that creature to go on missions—clandestine missions—with us? Just waltz through Sefturna settlements with a prey animal; that won’t stand out at all. That scent trail won’t stand out at all!”

“The Nevok can find ways to hide himself. Hossat has already been supplied with oils to mask his scent. I think he will add versatility to your team. He can get into spaces that you cannot—and that the enemy will never expect him to be.”

“I hate to agree with Zefriss, but this Nevok would only be a liability on my team…and I’d never trust someone with his disposition,” I countered.

Hysran cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t either. If you’re looking for a political win, Chief Hunter, this could backfire quite easily. Should Hossat ever get captured, especially in enemy territory, he’d be eaten—or worse, thrown in a cattle pen. How would that look to the SC?”

“Not very good, which is why I’m counting on you to make that not happen, yes?” Isif said. “I know this addition to your team must displease you, and I hate to disrupt the harmony of one of my most successful units; there are no others that would take such a task. You were taken in when your acceptance was scoffed at, yes? You will do this, because they are my orders.”

Zefriss stalked forward, eyes narrowed to slits. “I will not—”

“I am lenient; the old Dominion would have every bone in your body broken for your insolence. If you do not like it, you can go work for Ilthiss instead. I will let you leave now. They would love your backtalking and your extra digit, yes?”

“I want nothing to do with Betterment, but—”

“Go be angry about this all you like now. Sleep, sulk, whatever is necessary. Before the sun sets tomorrow though, you will all go to the training hall so you can be introduced to Hossat; Raza will integrate him to all your activities. That includes your attempt to pursue the Sefturna Sniper, if my orbital surveillance finds them in Death’s Pass. Should you fail to report by the time the moon hangs overhead next eve, I’ll charge you with treason and desertion. Am I clear?”

Hysran tilted her head. “No, I think you were quite vague about what you meant. Could you clarify?”

“I could, but I will not. Raza, Zefriss?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Zefriss growled.

“Hrrr.” A cold disgust ran through my veins, hating that my unit was charged with babysitting some heartless ex-Feddie. I cared for my companions, and that cohesion was what made us an effective team. So much for getting a proper diplomatic mission; this was how Isif thanked us for our good work. “Very well, Chief Hunter. If that’s how it must be.”

“It is. That’s all; you are dismissed.”

My legs carried me out of the hall, but my mind wanted to circle back and argue with Isif. I was still shocked by the idea that I had to integrate a Nevok into my team: a prey sapient deranged enough to move to Wriss. The idea was as ludicrous as any notion could be, yet Isif had gone along and made Hossat an operative. Accepting murderers from SC planets wasn’t going to win us any diplomatic credit. I hated that the Chief Hunter had thrown it in our faces, that us defectives had no choice but to support him. If he hadn’t saved my life and raised me, I might openly say this entire idea made him unfit to be the Collective’s leader. Perhaps Ilthiss had a point about age doing things to the elderly Arxur’s mind, since this wasn’t the layered strategy he’d imparted to me in those old tliskis sessions.

I stormed into my room within the guest wing, slamming the door behind me. My unit was being turned into a mockery. Tomorrow, I’d have to face some unhinged Nevok, and somehow keep him alive long enough to appease Isif. With how much my companions would also resent Hossat’s presence, I knew the social time together that I’d looked forward to was going to be turned into abject misery.

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A/N - Part 2 of the Hysran…um, I mean Arxur series! We see where Isif installed his seat of government, and learn what various members of the team consider worthwhile pursuits. The group arrives before the Chief Hunter, with Zefriss challenging Raza every step of the way as she shares her findings about the Sefturna Sniper. Siffy agrees to see if the Sniper is crossing through Death’s Pass, a deadly trail that nobody would expect repeat traffic on.

The Chief Hunter then shares what he summoned Raza and her team back for: a Nevok sociopath, formerly a corporate spy who got caught for an assassination, decides to move to Wriss to be allowed to profit as a mercenary—without strict rules or social obligations. Isif allows Hossat to stay in the hopes of showing the SC how Wriss is changed, with a prey sapient being able to gain citizenship. Raza and Zefriss are especially displeased about this development, though Siffy reminds them they have little choice…and demands compliance.

How credible do you think the lead on the Sefturna Sniper is? Is Isif right to make Hossat an operative? What do you think the new Nevok addition to the team will be like…and how will he get along with the current trio?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!