The Nature of Predators 2-49

Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General

Date [standardized human time]: August 11, 2160

The Duerten ambassador had walked away with a haughty air, until we were out of the Yulpa and Tevin’s eyesight. The manner in which he addressed me had caught me off-guard, to say the least; I’d felt as though Korajan was actively undermining me, not supporting my efforts. The real dagger to my heart was the “robot” remark, which made me feel about as human as a vacuum cleaner. While I expected the avian to be on my side for this meeting, he’d fanned the flames of the worst offenders’ hatred—leaving me to flounder and drown amid his bigoted accusations. Meanwhile, the diplomat looked oblivious to why I’d pulled him aside, tilting his head quizzically. I gritted my teeth, since his act of innocence aggravated me further.

“What were you doing, Korajan?” I demanded, a scowl marring my features. “We don’t want them thinking that we’re dangerous! We came here to try to get friendlier relations with the Shield, and anyone in your circle.”

Korajan scoffed. “That wasn’t going to happen with them. Do you realize who you were talking to? The Yulpa was openly wishing he could feed his god your blood, and the Tevin was an exterminator guildmaster. There’s a very good reason why humans aren’t brought here. Part of it, from those of us who like you not lightly toasted, is to protect you.”

“I know they don’t see us as people, but you played right into that assumption. Shit, you talked about me like I’m not a person. You called me a robot.”

“I apologize if that offended you; I thought my ‘take it in stride’ comment was sufficient warning. Somehow, I don’t think they’d have appreciated the finer distinctions of you being a digitized mind, imitating an entire neural network. I was following what I believed was your strategy—you emphasized to Ambassador Yali that you weren’t human. I thought that was your plan.”

“What happened to the Korajan who spoke in friendly terms about me and humanity with Yali? Who remembered Kalqua, and—”

“Elias, with all due respect, look who I was talking to in each instance. Yali was wary of you, but she does not hate you. They were never going to listen to a word you said if I didn’t distance myself from you, and tell them what they wanted to hear.”

“Then I don’t want to be listened to. They’re not going to listen to someone they call bot either.”

“Those people desapientize humans as ‘beast’ or ‘animal’; it’s obvious they’re going to do the same thing, but tailored to your unique situation. Them calling you bot, in my estimation, is an upgrade from savage predator, monstrosity, and killer. I thought our top priority was to get as much support as possible, to save lives. Every ship counts. Did I misunderstand what we’re doing here?”

I ran a hand through my hair, hesitating. “Ambassador, I meant what I told Yali. My hope was to befriend Shield members, and try to get through to them in that…we’re not to be feared. This isn’t just about today’s war. I want to see the galaxy heal from the Federation’s hatred, the past cycle of bloodshed…the deaths we might’ve caused in the past. Instead, I see both sides circling the drain.”

“Both sides? The Sapient Coalition too?”

“The United Nations sealing entire planets away, and not mending fences, is part of it. We did let certain worlds rot. We gave up trying to fix things, and that makes us part of the problem. Korajan, I don’t want to be accepting the same old hatred from anyone. Someone has to stand up and decide enough is enough.”

The Duerten went silent for what felt like a full minute, folding his wings. “Those certain worlds you speak of. They’re Wriss, Aafa, and Talsk.”

“Yes. They are.”

“They have all done unspeakable things. Elias, they either ate my people, or ate their souls by homogenizing us.”

“I know. But as long as we carry hatred, there can be no healing. The future is still ours to shape, Korajan, and I don’t want to let the past continue to decide it.”

“You forget one key aspect. You can’t make others stop hating you; the Yulpa and the Tevin don’t want to let go,” the Duerten sighed. “I strongly advise you to keep that message to the Sapient Coalition. Deal with your own people first. For the sake of our diplomatic relations, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you ask for Aafa’s release.”

“I’m speaking as myself, not as the United Nations’ official—”

“I’m aware, Elias. The good news is, the worst group is behind us, and you might realize that visiting the Federation remnants—as I believe is your eventual aspiration—is an exercise in assisted suicide. The rest of your visit can get better, and we’ve hopefully put a dampener on the heckling I imagine you’ll get during your speech.”

“I haven’t been informed when my speaking slot will be.”

“It should be in a few minutes. Again, they don’t intend for you to be here long. I wanted you to make the most of the brief opportunity—at least leave the door open to be invited back. We always had to pick who we’d approach. Candidly, Syba will likely be more effective in one-on-ones.”

I shuffled back toward the grand corridor we’d entered in, and saw a group of diplomats in hysterics around the Sulean. Once I’d acquired the proper angle, I noticed that Syba was showing a montage of humans…basically being idiots. One guy appeared to be mounting a frantic search for an item, tearing apart his home and looking under couch cushions. The film ceased as he lifted his sunglasses right off the top of his head, with an exasperated look. I inferred that the comedic element was that the Terran had been unable to locate an accessory right on his skull. Vynle’s image replaced the video, as he scrunched his face up at the camera—before slapping his antlers against his desk.

I suppose that is how Suleans “facepalm,” unless this is just a Vynle thing. The guy was an animated host.

“They’re apex predators?” Vynle shouted at the camera. “What I’ve learned here is that, if a human ever tries to hunt you, sit right in front of their face. They won’t see a damn thing, and it’s not just because of their keyhole vision. Good grief, it’s like a Sulean losing their antlers! Do we need anything Terrans touch to buzz periodically, so they remember if it’s stapled to their skulls?!”

Syba tossed her head back, chuckling. “Humans really are quite…aimless, sometimes. It’s hard to be afraid of them, when they’re just awkward and bumbling around! One of my Terran coworkers claimed she had an ‘elf’…er, a mythical creature…that took her things from where she left them, and hid them.”

“If you want them not to be afraid of you, Syba’s doing good work. I’m sorry I wasn’t more help, Elias,” Korajan murmured.

I patted the Duerten on the back, forcing myself to shake off the sting of that pesky “robot” insult. “It’s fine. You weren’t wrong that we want as many ships as possible. I…I have to save Nishtal. I just have to make the Shield see humans as people too.”

“Then patience is a must-have, friend. There’s still much of the Federation in this place. Now, I see a displeased Ulven coming our way; I imagine he wants you to get on with the main event, so they can kick you from our nest. Good luck with your speech.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, taking care to wipe any semblance of strong emotions off of my face. Many species thought that humans were unreadable, compared to the animated trunk, ear, and tail movements that pervaded the rest of the galaxy, but they eventually learned that our expressions gave away our exact sentiments. The Ulven’s deep brown pelt popped out of the corner of my vision, their short trunk looking off amid a swine-like face. They’d had no interest in aiding us in the war, when I paid a visit to their embassy on Earth. If word of the Arxur breaching quarantine got out, amid our efforts with the Osirs and the Bissems…this speech could be our final chance at reaching the Shield. What if Korajan had a point, that there wasn’t anything I could say to change their hatred of humanity?

Perhaps I should’ve settled for gaining aid in the war, knowing that they wouldn’t hate the Krakotl. First and foremost, it’s my goal to save lives today; arguing for my own personhood or fluffing up humanity’s reputation aren’t as urgent. I can tell when I’m not wanted.

I extended my hands off to the side, trying to show open palms and relaxed intentions. “How may I help you? There’s no questions that are off-limits—and might I add how gracious it is of you to host us. I am honored to be the first representative of the United Nations here.”

“You said you wanted to address us, so go give that address,” the Ulven huffed. “The Federation allowed humanity to speak once, and then shot down the idea of partnering with you. Our internal vote should be equally decisive.”

“We would go to the lengths of the galaxy for the hope of securing one new friend. This opportunity is greatly appreciated.”

“This is about threats to the Shield, with the new enemy in the war. We have no choice but to humor you—to assess the threat.”

“I think that’s a smart, logical decision, and I hope that we’re able to ensure everyone’s safety together. We can face this as one. I have conviction in that regard.”

“Say what you’ve come to say, or leave. I have no interest in further discourse with any…software that emulates a human. What is the Sapient Coalition even thinking, giving machines the sapient personalities of dead hunters?”

“For the most part, no one wants to die, and I’m afraid it’s an inevitable reality of being alive. It’s a discussion I would like to have some day, which I think you should be included in. Dissenting voices are important to reach any determination, especially on an issue so important that it decides what being alive means.”

“We want no part in your amoral internal affairs. The microphone is on the raised platform. Do you even have words to bark, or was this all a ruse? We have exterminators on site: plenty of security for the likes of you.”

I took a cautious step toward the podium, wondering whether my skin would even burn. Thankfully, there was no sense of pain in my current body—a welcome reprieve after the constant aches I’d felt as I climbed upward in age. Immolation was one of the most agonizing ways to die, so I wasn’t sure why the exterminators refused to forsake it: unless it was cruelty for cruelty’s sake. My mind flickered back to when I’d first learned of the predator-torchers, during our exchange program with the Venlil; Governor Tarva’s office had advised me they might be a problem for Terran visitors on her world. It was a very different time in relations for the species who were now our inseparable best friends. The fact that her planet’s true name, Skalga, meant “World of Death,” was one of the most surprising things I’d learned about the new era.

Syba scurried over to me, eyes gleaming with encouragement. “I heard they want to get rid of you, Mr. Elias. That was awfully quick to rush you along to your speech.”

“All I asked of Yali was to get in for a speaking slot, and she fulfilled my request; it seems it was difficult to persuade the Shield to give us an inch,” I responded. “This brief moment we had to stand face-to-face…anything we got was a bonus. Like you said, we have to make the most of it.”

“That’s why I brought pamphlets, about how this is the most peaceful era in human history—you haven’t fought an internal war since First Contact! It was a wake-up call to you, I think, and it’s a good option to refute all of those awful historical references. The Suleans need to get diplomatic channels open on The Sailer, one way or another. Imagine the progress if we had a permanent observer here!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Syba. I am floored that the Federation remnants—who still have the nerve to call themselves the Galactic Federation, as if picking up where they left off—are here.”

“Everything is a matter of perspective, and I know that you can find the bright sides in the deepest darkness: you’re the one who did it for your whole species, in your darkest days! Keep your chin up. Look at it this way. The Federation remnants were here, while we weren’t, but now, we’re here too. That is progress and inclusion, plus, more people we can start to make things better with!”

“You do have a certain way of looking at things. Don’t lose that.” I couldn’t help but to smile, as the involuntary expression of fondness and admiration still transpired in my synthetic form—down to the telltale crinkles near the eyes, signifying a true smile. Virnt had done his research on that aspect, getting the galaxy’s much-maligned “snarl” down pat. “I will say that I’ve been threatened by multiple parties here. Just, out of an abundance of caution, could you go back to the ship? Make whatever excuse you need to, but the SC needs to know about the Fed remnants’ presence.”

“You can count on me! Just like I can count on you to show them that undying hopefulness—”

“Undying. Syba, was that pun intentional?”

“What do you think?” The Sulean squeezed me in an unexpected hug—while it thankfully didn’t suck the nonexistent breath out of me, it did startle me. She didn’t offer any commentary about the lack of body warmth, though there was a slight loosening of her grip: as if for a moment, she’d wanted to pull away. “You have to laugh at yourself; that’s what my dad always taught me. If you can do that, nothing can hurt you!”

Syba scampered off with boundless energy, clearly unconcerned with the hostile environment we found ourselves in; her enthusiasm was contagious. I was grateful that I hadn’t come to the Shield meeting alone, especially without how Korajan had been lacking in execution for his supportive presence. My steps became more sure-footed as my soles touched the raised platform, and I once again felt every pair of eyes turn to me. When I first became a diplomat, I never imagined I’d be addressing an alien audience. The first time I met a Venlil in person, I’d felt the hairs on my neck stand upright—that goosebumps and shivers sensation didn’t exist for me anymore, which I was grateful for. It was enough to try to focus my brain and find the words. Even someone like myself, seasoned in public speaking, could never be truly comfortable facing such a crowd.

I stared out into the audience, immediately picking the Yulpa and the Tevin from before out of the crowd. “It wasn’t that long ago that each of you learned that a race of predators, who the Federation had observed a most terrible pattern of violence from, had not wiped themselves out. Instead, humanity had reached the stars—and reached out to you. It’s been decades of us begging you to see that we’re not monsters, and that your enmity or subservience isn’t our desire. We’ve peacefully coexisted with herbivores, as friends and neighbors, for decades.”

“You changed those herbivores to be like you!” the Tevin protested. “Your carcass-nibbling ways have corrupted others.”

“There’s much more to what it means to be human than our diet, yet you refuse to see that. If that were the sole purpose my brain worked toward, then how would I stay sane at all, when I cannot eat—cannot hunger? I could take the easy route here, instead of pounding my head against a proverbial brick wall. I could beg you merely to stand with us against a murderous enemy, but you already know that saving the innocent worlds under threat is the right thing to do. What you do with that is your decision, and has nothing to do with us. I’m here to ask a question.”

“We don’t owe you any answers,” spat the Ulven who’d hurried me to the platform. “You should leave.”

My jaw locked. “Not yet. I’m here to ask one single question. What proof would it take for you to believe there’s more to humanity than our lowest moments, as a species? Would anything be enough?”

Several voices shouted answers at me, many of which were charged with vitriol for my species. I stood calmly by the microphone, binocular eyes sweeping across the audience with an unspoken challenge. Ambassador Korajan was cradling his head in his wings; I inferred that the Duerten didn’t approve of my confrontational technique. Someone had to challenge the biases and hatred that pervaded this organization, and all of its counterparts in the Orion Arm. I wasn’t backing down to anyone who’d continue the cycle of hatred, or considered my species to be mere animals. Perhaps it was hopeless, but at least I could say I tried—that I never stopped fighting for what I believed in. There was too much at stake just to throw in the towel.

“I have nothing to hide from you; I can show you exactly what’s going on in my mind. You can run your own transcript tech on the image of my brain, and see for yourself,” I pressed on. “My sole desire is a better future, and to protect my people—no, all people. Continued hostility toward each other, division of this tiny corner of space: what does that achieve for any of us? You might continue to harbor hatred for me and every human that has ever lived, in your hearts, but I know what’s in mine. Verify that as much as you need.”

Leshee Ambassador Yali hopped forward, apprehensive to speak. “We…do not all hate you, Elias. We simply don’t want to get too close to…a highly dangerous and volatile species.”

I softened my voice, pressing a hand to the spot in my chest where a heart should have been beating. “We aren’t that different from you. We have hopes, dreams, loved ones…curiosity, fear, and insecurities. In my last moments, we were mourning those that had died in Earth’s bombardment. It hurt so terribly, to think how many lives were lost under my supervision, that it burned my soul. I wanted my legacy to be peace, and those were my last words—when there was nothing I could’ve possibly gained. The final whispers of consciousness were the people I loved: memories of them. If my species is volatile, it’s because we feel more deeply than you can imagine.”

“What is the point of this meandering rant?” the Yulpa objected.

“That it’s time to turn the page, and leave our past grudges and differences behind. If we both want what’s best for all people moving forward, what does any of the rest of it matter? Give us a chance to be more than the monsters you decided we are. It’s never too late to start healing; all it takes is for one of you to take the first step. A leap of hope.”

Contempt shone in the Ulven’s eyes. “It’s time for you to leave, predator. You don’t belong here.”

I waved a hand in farewell, leaning in for a final word on the microphone. “Humanity’s door is always open; our differences don’t have to be irreconcilable. I hope we can continue this dialogue, and foster a genuine trust and partnership between our peoples. Thank you for listening.”

As I was ushered out of The Sailer in a hurry, the fire died down within my spirit. Korajan’s uncertainty still knocked in my mind, and I was uncertain if my speech had fallen on any receptive ears. Had this visit accomplished anything on humanity’s behalf? I didn’t want to fail the United Nations, especially when this was our single peek inside of the Shield the past two and a half decades. What if I had botched this mission enough that it threw away potential support for the planetary defenses, and I had to wrestle with the guilt of more lives lost because of my choices? My processors slowed in their spiral as I thought of Syba’s blind optimism; while I couldn’t guarantee they’d ever stop hating us, I’d had to try. That entire speech had been a leap of hope, that healing was possible even when the odds seemed bleak.

All it would take would be one species taking the leap with me, to make my plea worthwhile. Just as a single spark was enough to start a blaze, a sole change for the better was enough to improve the galaxy humanity found ourselves in.

A/N - Chapter 49! Meier confronts Korajan, who gives his reasoning for trying to appeal to the Fed remnants, and then is hurried on to give his speech…after Syba draws a laugh from the diplomats, and reminds him to look at the situation with positivity. Our narrator lays his heart bare, begging the Shield and its guests to let go of old hatred, asking what proof it’d take for them to see that there’s more to humanity. What do you think of Korajan’s cynical rationale, just trying to get ships in the only way he believes might work? What do you think of the speech Meier chose to give; and how do you expect the audience will receive and act on it? 

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!