The Nature of Predators - Krev Exchange Program (1/7)

Memory Transcription Subject: Flevi, Krev Opinion Columnist

Date [standardized human time]: March 27, 2160

“What does any homeowner do with an infestation of suvrels—hey, are those like termites?” the human paused his reading at the first sentence, with a puzzled expression cute enough to melt glaciers.

I couldn’t underscore enough how much I’d made a dreadful mistake, as one of the most outspoken critics of allowing the Tellus residents to stay. The click-through rate I’d gotten with my blistering takes had been one of the highest in the Tonvos Tribune. We were a digital news organization that offered more dramatic retellings of recent events, and political commentaries, than dry articles; stoking the flames with incendiary points was exactly the sort of thing that’d garner traction. My editor thought I couldn’t spin out the anti-human articles fast enough, since politicians like Ficcin himself were sharing my pieces with a wide audience. I’d begun to have a following, and regular commenters who’d cheer on my exposés. It felt exhilarating.

With that said, I hadn’t been disingenuous. I’d thought allowing Federation morons to slink around a planet right next to Avor, without so much as showing their faces, was lunacy. Now that I knew the truth, I was trying to backpedal; hating on adorable primates, who’d been the victims of a Federation planetary genocide, was career suicide. The problem was, what did I have to write about now? My three daily articles about other issues had seen my viewership crater, as the people demanded a response: humans were my claim to fame. I desperately joined the exchange program, in the hopes to write about their culture and save my career. It was inevitable that my exchange partner would’ve found what I wrote about the Tellish, in time, so it was better to get this uncomfortable conversation out of the way now. 

That didn’t stop me from wanting to curl up into a ball and pretend I couldn’t hear Indrek reciting my own words. The human had only a small amount of hair on his chin, and it looked like the brown fuzz was trying to give his lower lip a hug. I thought I could resist the beloved cuteness, but all my brain kept telling me was how snuggly he looked, and how much I wanted to scratch his chin. The eyebrows knitting together, which made his blue eyes even more melty, were too much. No primate had the right to be this emotive and precious—I needed to stay focused. My throat felt dry, at the realization that he’d take to heart the horrible things I’d said about his people. I hadn’t come into this to be a furless primate’s friend, but looking at him now, I couldn’t help myself.

“If termites are underground insects that feed on wood and destroy homes, then yes, suvrels are the same,” I managed to reply. “Please keep reading, before I…die of humiliation.”

Indrek recoiled, as his eyes skimmed ahead further. “‘You apply suvrelicides that stop them from living parasitically inside your home. There isn’t a Krev on Avor that’d let them live in a room right adjacent to the main living area, and throw up their claws at the structural damage. Yet that’s exactly what the Consortium is doing with the human incursion, letting them burrow beneath the soils and hoping they’ll go away. Suvrels do not ‘go away’ without a deterrent, once they’ve set up a nest.’”

“We would never hurt you, now,” I said hurriedly, wanting to reassure the primate before he showed any frightfulness. Indrek had already been the victim of a planetary bombing once, and I didn’t want to trigger any trauma. “I’m sorry. If I’d known what you were, I wouldn’t have dreamed of saying it.”

“But you did. Where was I? ‘For twenty-three cycles, we’ve tolerated having these evasive, surreptitious cavern-dwellers who’ve told us nothing about themselves or their intentions beneath our noses. They show little deference to Krev visitors, rushing them off when it’s plain to see they have something to hide. Ceding our worlds to the Federation without an ounce of fighting spirit speaks wonders of the Consortium’s backbone. The Reskets should bury the human vermin underground, the way they did with Esquo, and call it a day; nothing of value would be lost.’ You wanted us bombed?!”

“I wanted who I thought you were bombed: the shifty Federation, not actual you. The ones I hate are the people who hurt you. We saw where you came from, and we know what they’re like. It’s not like humans gave us anything else to go on.”

Indrek’s eyes smoldered. “It’s not like you gave us anything yourselves. You tried to work us to death.”

“That’s extremely regrettable. I mean it; we had no idea how much you’ve suffered. We should help you, and we will. You’ll be set for life by the time the Krev are done.”

“Set, as your pets? Because you think we’re adorable?”

“Everyone else saw you as hideous monsters, and you’re upset that we think primates are cute. Nobody’s made you a pet. You’re here by your own choosing. If this is going to be this upsetting to you, we can call this off now. There’s plenty of other potential partners on Avor, without these articles littering the internet. This was a bad idea.”

Indrek bit his rosy lip, somehow looking even more pensive and fragile. Okay, forget journalistic integrity; this species was a planetary treasure that needed to be protected at all costs. How could anyone maintain professionalism around a human for more than an hour? I was relieved he didn’t agree with my suggestion to request a different partner. I’d been lucky to be chosen, given how few of his kind there were…and how many interested Krev entered their names. This was my one chance to be a part of this. The adorable primate returned to reading the rest of the article, with its scathing prose on how humans were wrapped in tablecloths. Avor definitely had a different view on that endearing, whimsical practice now—furless apes in curtains! 

I hope being upfront was the right call. Maybe if Indrek comes around, he could write a response to my articles; that would be a smash hit! Shit, he could fall asleep on the keyboard, and I could post those random keystrokes for millions of views. Imagine how his fingers look, typing and…

“‘Nothing good, or worth looking at, would hide its face beneath a mask. There is more afoot with these humans than so-called privacy culture. Allowing the ingrates to take our land for one more day, and forcing Krev to interact with these unforthcoming buffoons a moment longer, will only spell further disgrace for the Consortium. This madness, pretending suvrels can coexist with civilized people out of our own cowardice, must end by any means necessary. These underground squatters have shown their ugly visages without ever removing the masks.’” Indrek mashed his paws together, in what I thought was supposed to be mocking, but was actually adorable; hitting his own hands against each other to make sound. “Bravo, Flevi. A rousing piece of journalism!” 

I groaned. “I’m so sorry. I am. You’re not ugly, and I literally can’t imagine how those dumbfucks in the Federation found you scary. The good news is, neither of us are anything like the other thought we were. Isn’t it obvious we don’t find you scary, like them?”

“Given that we’re already on a video call for your first encounter, that goes without saying. And it’s not the point, lady. We thought all aliens would think us monsters, because that’s all we knew. Do you have any idea how difficult our lives have been, while you worked us to death, and prodded us for information that we were terrified to reveal—for fear it’d render the last gasps of our species extinct? You were merciless, extorting us for shitty rocks you don’t even need!”

“I know. The Krev were terrified that, if you found out we weren’t part of the Federation mindlessness, or about the Jaslips…it was madness we wanted no part of. We hurt you for that, and I can’t take back what I said.”

“You wanted me to see what you wrote about us. It’s the first thing you sent me, hardly before we’d made introductions—and a translated version, so it’d be easy to understand. Is this some cry for…validation? Absolution?”

“No, although earning your forgiveness in time would be most welcome. I didn’t want to hide anything from you, Indrek. Look where hiding who we are has gotten us: all of this avoidable suffering. My swallowing stones are on the table; do what you will with the truth.”

The human’s eyes gleamed with a shrewd intelligence. “Well, why don’t I put my cards on the table as well? I hated you too; the Krev have been nothing but a rotten lot of bastards. I was there in the mines when that drill exploded, pulling my friends—my brothers—out of the wreckage. I led that miners’ strike, where we refused to sweat and toil for another exorbitant payment. And if you didn’t show sympathy for the accident or lay off at all, we were planning to do something about our mistreatment. Fuck Hathaway.”

My heart almost cracked in two at the thought of these adorable primates, injured in some wretched mine after pushing their equipment too far to meet our demands. I could picture Indrek’s flimsy little fingers digging through rubble, trying to save his friends. They had absolutely nothing left, and we’d taken what little they had. The strike was more than justified, because humanity shouldn’t have given us any mineral payments to begin with. I couldn’t blame my exchange partner for hating the Krev, and thinking us heartless monsters; my articles and the way we’d treated his kind spoke wonders. The journalistic side of my brain began spinning, imagining the strike leader’s story—his indictment of us—plastered on the Tonvos Tribune’s timeline. 

Indrek is the perfect subject for a feature on how the human miners suffered. That kind of hard journalism isn’t what I really do, but my entire beat crumbled; I have to adapt. It’d help him have a platform to voice his complaints, so it’d be mutually beneficial.

“If you hate the Krev, why did you join the exchange program?” I prompted.

“To make it clear we’re never lifting another finger to help you. And that we aren’t going to forget what you did.” The human scowled; it was amusing to see him trying to look cross, as if making his colorful pupils barely peek through his delicate lashes could add an intimidating air. Primates were mischievous and squishy, and couldn’t appear serious if they tried. “I want you to have to look me in the eye when you fuck us over. No sense squandering an opportunity to learn about the enemy.”

“The enemy? No, no, no, we’re not your enemy. Both of our enemies are the Federation; doesn’t that make us friends? I swear, we’re going to help you.”

Indrek snorted. “You just handed me proof of what you had planned for us. This is how the Krev were talking about us, like we weren’t even people! I don’t care why you did it; the Krev wasted two decades of my life. The only reason we’re humoring you, after everything you’ve done, is because we need you to fight the Federation. They hit our home with suvrelicides, in the form of antimatter oopsy-daisies.”

“I understand. You don’t owe us a thing, and there’s no undoing what hurt you. You have every reason to hate us, and to spit on my apology. I recognize there’s nothing I can say to make it right. But since you’re in the exchange program, maybe we could get to know each other anyway?”

“What?!”

“You must be a little curious about aliens. You wanted to learn about us, right? Even if it’s because you think we’re enemies, there’s no reason we can’t learn about each other’s lives. I might be useful to you; I do have a platform to put out whatever you want to say, to try to fix what I’ve done.”

Indrek’s judgmental stare lingered on my face, as if trying to discern my motives. The Krev always knew that primates were emotionally sensitive, and excelled at reading body language. I wished we could talk more about our customs, so that I could learn how the planet full of adorable humans lived—and so I’d know they had an interest in us. I didn’t want to accept that we couldn’t salvage relations between the aggrieved miners and the Avorian public, who wanted nothing more than to love and soothe them. My exchange partner was just hurting, and I had to try to help him feel better! There was too much at stake for both of our species, for this program not to heal the rifts between us.

“As long as you don’t get the donkey-brained idea that we could be friends, fine,” Indrek relented. “We can talk.”

I made a fawning face at him, raising my claws with excitement. “Of course! Just professional curiosity. I have no idea where to start—so what do you want to ask me? Go on.”

“Hmph. For starters, how often do Krev shank each other with those claws?”

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“They look quite sharp, Flevi. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I mean, do Krev commit murders, even though we’re herbivores? Is that a roundabout way of asking that?”

“Perhaps.”

“Obviously, we do. I don’t think most…altercations, Krev enjoy physically getting blood on their claws, so that would usually be a nasty fight without premeditation. Knives and guns still give an obvious advantage, with the plus side of keeping your claws clean.”

“I see. The Venlil said prey don’t commit murders.”

“I think the more accurate answer is that the Federation blame predators for everything, and act like they could never do anything ugly or violent. I’m a little disappointed your first point of interest wasn’t our art or music, but I get that primates are violent. It figures that’s where your mind went.”

Indrek’s eyes darkened. “Now you sound like the Federation.”

“It’s scientifically true that your class of animals are more aggressive than average. The Federation say it because of your eyes; we say it because we know you, and have evidence.”

“You know obors. We’re sapient.”

“But your history is surely littered with wars and violence—disputes and uprisings breaking out over the littlest things? We’re not peaceful prey, but you must have a violent streak that exceeds the standard. That’s my question.”

“What difference does it make if some asshole monarchs fought over creed and territory?! I won’t give you the fodder to condemn us to your leadership as savages—the primates who are supposedly drawn to violence and war.”

“This isn’t going to work if you won’t open up about any of your people’s past, Indrek. Gress already saw the vault; it’s not like we don’t know about your wars. And it’s not like it’s not…weird to think about adorable primates being cruel dictators that did terrible things to their own people, killing them en masse. My brain won’t compute with that.”

“That’s why this isn’t going to work. You don’t think we’re people,” he accused, wagging a finger at me; I tried not to stare at the pink, baby claw at its tip, which looked like a cute little tack embedded in his skin. What would it be like if he poked me with that tiny patch of keratin, which was dwarfed by my own claws? “You’re doing it right now. Looking at me like some thing for your amusement.”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m just looking at you like normal!”

“You can’t even be honest with me now. I’m not some stupid monkey—no, sorry, obor. I think you’re done looking at me at all,” Indrek said, before hitting the disconnect button and turning the video feed off.

I gaped in horror at the black screen, realizing that I’d bungled the call with the primate—just when he’d agreed to exchange questions, and give us a chance to bond before he realized it. Why did I ask about the wars, when I knew the Federation had hammered humanity for that? There had to be a way I could make this exchange pairing work; perhaps giving the frustrated miner some space, then apologizing for my gushing mannerisms. Whatever it took, I wanted to be friends with Indrek, because it’d be criminal for such a cute, fuzzy creature not to have someone to coddle him.

Next

A/N - As you voted, Krev Exchange Program begins! Flevi is an opinion columnists, who rose to fame with scathing takes on the “human occupation” of Tellus, but is now bordering on irrelevance and trying to save her career after the truth comes out. She shows her articles to her exchange partner, to avoid him finding out on his own, though he’s less than thrilled about the charged, forceful rhetoric he reads. Indrek reveals that he led the miners’ strike on Tellus, and hates aliens after toiling for his entire life and burying friends. He reveals that he only joined to learn more about the enemy, and hangs up after Flevi implies human history must be filled with wars, while continuing to gawk at him.

What do you think of our two exchange participants, and their motives for joining the program? With Indrek seeing Krev as the enemy and disliking Flevi out of the gate, do you think there’s any chance of him warming to our narrator like she wishfully thinks?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!