The Nature of Predators - Wild West (7/11)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Nilrie, Takkan Smuggler

Date [standardized human time]: April 7, 1851

As the arduous trek pressed on toward the mines, I thought about how rare it was to see an uncarved landscape like the one we were passing through. Predators—not just my present company—likely abounded out in the wilderness, but that hadn’t been on my mind with Blake keeping watch. Back on the Takkan homeworld, Marna, the trees would have been subjected to controlled burns to flush out flesh-eating beasts. Krakotl experts buffed our exterminator forces, even more than “Nishtal’s finest” helped on other worlds; they’d brokered the compromise between our disunited people when Marna was fractured at heart. 

Earth’s pale green grasses would’ve been cleaved up by paved and stampede-proofed roads, which would’ve made this journey much faster. Takkans didn’t graze nearly as much as the Sivkits, and when we did, our focus was on washing the grass beforehand; we weren’t animals. What would Blake Donovan think of grazing? I doubt a predator would settle for such a simplistic food source. In my mind’s eyes, I could still see the sheriff burning the rabbit’s still-warm flesh. What if humans didn’t always kill their prey first, and liked to swallow them alive? I could picture an animal trapped in his stomach, right beneath the vest—a horrifying fate.

“Here we are!” the beast barked, eyes scanning the vicinity. “Do ye ‘ave mines at home, Nilrie?”

I flicked my paper-thin tail with discomfort. “Not many. We mine asteroids and other planets…um, worlds and space rocks that don’t have people living on them. They have a vast wealth of minerals.”

“Marlow’d really want yer shuttle if he heard that. Sounds like a ticket to an actual gold mine.”

“Is that what you’re mining? Gold?”

“A lot of folk came out ‘ere chasing fortune, and grown our numbers. It’s valuable fer us.”

“Why? I don’t see what value that metal in particular would have to predators, or how it helps you with hunting.”

Blake snorted. “Huntin’ got nothin’ to do with gold. Gold’s rare, it’s pretty, and I hear it’s real easy to melt and shape. There ain’t a whole lotta metals like it. I guess ultimately, we just like things that shine. Takkans got any precious metals or jewels?”

“No, I don’t think so. We like abundant metals with practical uses, I guess…like silicon for computers. The closest I can think of is people who collect cryomagma chunks.”

“Cryomagma? Is that lava you done froze?”

“…from ice volcanoes? Does your planet not have those?”

“Yer pullin’ my leg. Volcanoes spit fire, not ice.”

“I didn’t touch your leg, so I’m not sure why you think I’m hindering your movement. But cryovolcanoes definitely project ice.”

Blake scoffed. “Forget I asked. Let’s grab the explosives, with care, and hoof it the last few miles.”

The mining operation seemed abandoned at the present moment, though a lot of gear was lying around; the sheriff strolled up, putting a hefty amount of nitroglycerin and other materials into a wheelbarrow. I was grateful the human would be the one pushing the load. While keeping an eye out for other upright predators in the area, we began hauling the explosives the final length toward the crashed spaceship. If our mission was a success, these expansionist, low-minded beasts would never rove the stars to asteroid mine or see cryovolcanoes. With a belief that it was their right to conquer as far out as possible, that was a positive.

Still, a small part of me wished I could take Blake, the man who saved my life, up for just one spin among the stars. I’d be curious to see his reaction to everything that was out there. I wished the sheriff could see the life and goodness outside this cursed world of predators, where he wouldn’t have been bred and raised to kill.

---

Night had fallen by the time we reached the shuttle, and Blake helped me rummage around the wreckage for what was left of the cryopods. I must’ve succeeded in ditching the craft as lightly as possible, since two of the payload objects were still intact. We decided to remove both of them out of an abundance of caution; it was a good contingency in case one had an unseen flaw. The human and I managed to push the cryopod containers back into a secluded overhang by the river; the beast panted from shouldering most of the load, glistening with fluids on his exposed skin. His eyes were alert despite the physical exhaustion, and gleaming with curiosity.

Blake Donovan must be wondering how this box, in his view, can freeze a person…literally, and preserve them in time. I’ll have to trust him, one more time, to put me in there and hide me someplace safe. Hopefully, this primitive can follow simple instructions to use the interface.

With the cryopods salvaged, I felt a bit of hope, despite the human’s warning about our potential demise. We had a plan; it was possible I’d go to sleep in a few hours, and wake up to a Federation survey on a cleansed world. Antimatter would demolish my pod, but these hunters were technologically basic enough that simple burning could save the planet. My heart felt a bit sorrowful, watching Blake situate the explosives atop the debris. Granted, I would’ve imagined a more sinister use for nitroglycerin, except that I’d seen it by the mines—it was used for blowing apart rocks, just like our charges at home. There was the slightest overlap between decent hominids and ourselves; it was proved by things like that shared usage.

It was just like how I hadn’t been able to exterminate Sheriff Donovan at the campfire, despite knowing he deserved it—despite watching him slaughter an animal and chow down on its carcass in front of me. He was kind and sociable to me, as off-putting as his savage comments and mannerisms were. He wanted to safeguard the iota of genuine civilization his species had. Was there any chance he was right, back in the town, when he expressed his belief that most humans were more good than bad…even after admitting the monstrous things his kind did? The family he wanted to protect could be burned in horrified agony while I snoozed; that made me feel unimaginable guilt.

Blake dusted his hands off, nodding his head to steady himself. “If there’s anythin’ else ya wanted from the scraps, yer last chance is right now. No turnin’ back once I light the fuse. We both agree there’s no repairing the flyin’ kite, right?” 

“Y-yeah. I couldn’t teach you to r-repair it…if I wanted to. I’m no engineer,” I replied shakily.

“Hey, it’s okay to be nervous. I know this means that yer stuck here, and I ain’t been unclear that Marlow’s gonna come fer us. If it’s any comfort, I’m here fer ya.”

“T-thanks. I’m…here for you too. Thank you, Blake. I might not have deserved your help, but you were right when you said you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” Water crawled down my face, staring at his eyes for what might be the last time. Even if he didn’t get torched, this predator would be dead by the time I woke up. “I’m sorry it’s c-come to this.”

“Me too. I wish I had time to show ya the good side of what we got ‘ere.”

“You…already did.”

The human’s reprehensible eyes widened, softening. “Then I done somethin’ right. Cornelia was right to tell me to protect ya. She’s the good side, gooder than I’ll ever be.”

“You need to make it home. To give her my gratitude.”

“Well, ye can help with that. Lemme set the ‘splosions off, and ye cover yer ears. I’ll come back an’ get ya.”

The predator stalked off to trigger his chain reaction, wiping out the last remains of any kind of vehicle on this world. I might never return home, but I hoped Blake did; all he ever wanted was to keep his loved ones safe. It shouldn’t have been possible for prey to work together with a violent hunter, yet he’d been the one who protected the Federation from his own species. I imagined he’d be glad to get rid of me, after commenting how little I’d done to endear myself to him and how I wasn’t good company. However, I wasn’t as delighted to part ways with the sheriff as I expected. In the moment I explained my story, he seemed to understand—and in that camaraderie, he’d felt like a friend.

We have nothing in common, and Blake is still a flesh-eating murderer who becomes dangerous if he misses a meal. Stop deluding yourself, Nilrie. The moment you let your guard down…

I kept my paws clamped on my ears as I heard the faint booms, before I felt a fleshy palm press against my shoulder. Blake jostled me; I shuddered, thinking of the animal guts that had been smeared on his hands. The predator’s eyes sparkled with malicious delight, and his lips were upturned as he gestured to the smoking ruins. I stared at his visible canines for several seconds, and contemplated how alive he looked while destroying objects. Was that how he’d appear if he could drop bombs in an overhead raid, and dust cities like he’d done to my ship? The human ushered me to crouch by a path-adjacent rock—lying in wait for a predatory ambush, as promised.

Sheriff Donovan pressed a sidearm into my paws, startling me. “Here. I need an extra gun. Point it at anything but me, and pull the trigger. Horses are a big target.”

“I don’t want to kill a horse!” I objected.

“Only way to dump the rider. Ya wanna aim for the rider, go ‘head, but yer probably dead if ya miss.”

“Are you sure we can’t run?”

“I told ya, we ain’t gonna outrun no equines on foot. Don’t wanna lead ‘em right to your ice boxes neither. We gotta watch each other’s backs. A horse survives, we steal it and circle way around to throw ‘em off the trail.”

“You said to shoot the horse!”

Blake steadied his rifle against his shoulder, closing one eye. “That’s fer ye. My aim’s much better. Y’know I was quite the gunslinger once. Draw a weapon ‘fore a man could blink.”

“Why the fuck do you think that’s a good thing?!”

“‘Cause nobody messed with ‘Bullseye Blake.’ I guess they ain’t afraid of me in my old age. Marlow woulda never showed his face in my town ten years ago.”

It was worrying to think how other predators were afraid of the very man I was next to, with his self-professed prowess with firearms. The human hushed me when I opened my mouth to express my reservations; I didn’t dare to defy him. Straining my ears, I heard the clops of galloping hooves churning up dirt on the road. Five shadow-clad riders tore through the night, hats projecting out from their skulls. Their binocular eyes weren’t visible in this lighting or from this distance, but I felt them scouring the path ahead with insatiable hunger. The horses’ powerful legs propelled them closer to us, as smoke continued to filter up toward the luminous moon.

Blake was impossibly still, as his single open eye steered the gun’s barrel. The slightest adjustments marked the final moments as the bandits advanced. Following his lead, I leveled the pistol he’d given me. I was surprised the sheriff would trust me with a weapon, but the chances of me turning on him were zero when I needed him to protect me. My willpower was poured into preventing my paws from shaking, and I waited for my predator ally to pull the trigger on his deadeye shot. I would wait for his cue before popping off any bullets, not wanting to disrupt his timing. He was the expert killer, after all. Out of my periphery, I saw his finger curl with the most fractional of motions. Up the hillside, a rider’s head snapped backward, before it toppled over to the side—plummeting from the horse's back like a spilled sack of vegetables.

My sidearm peeked around the rock, and despite having no practice in gun handling, I managed to pop off a few shots in the general direction of the scavengers. There was a whinny, and a horse shedding its rider, suggesting I’d hit something. That was about as fortuitous of an outcome as I could hope for, as a novice murderer. Even if I was experienced with ranged combat, I didn’t have the narrow cone of vision Blake had at his disposal. The sheriff could focus on a single target with ease, utilizing his depth perception to aim his munitions. The hunter saw every detail necessary to kill his foes in a second, didn’t he? I swallowed, trying to forget what kind of creature I was huddled next to.

Marlow’s lackey dusted itself off from where it was thrown, when its wounded horse rushed off into the wind. Faintly, I was grateful I didn’t kill the prey animal that’d been forced to serve these savages; it didn’t deserve to die for its predator masters. The bandits had acquired our position once the sound reached their ears. Bullets assaulted the rock we were ducked behind, and I desperately curled my limbs closer to my center of mass. Rock shards were chipping away from our cover, which meant we couldn’t stay here. Blake hesitated, before yanking me backward. We rolled away from the horsepath’s edge, down the slope—where the goons wouldn’t have a good angle. 

The human gestured with his hands, positioning me behind a cactus. He laid down flat on his belly, rifle trained on the road above; we’d see them coming, but they’d have an advantageous high ground. I was glad I’d kept clutching the pistol. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, as every instinct pleaded with me to flee an open confrontation with predators. I clung to my logical faculties, repeating what Blake had said. There was no running from hunters on horseback, and I couldn’t leave him to fend them off on his own. This was the only way I could repay him for saving my life, as well as billions of lives across the Federation, by destroying my ship. He’d given me a gun, and I could try to give him a chance of going home tonight.

“Sheriff!” Marlow screeched, voice thunderous with rage. “You might be the dumbest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. You could’ve at least made yourself rich, but you squandered the greatest prospect any of us have ever seen. For what? Spite? Heroism?!”

My heart sank, as I found myself wishing that the bandit struck down by Blake had been John Marlow. The sociopathic human was still on its horse, prancing down the path, methodically moving toward us. It wanted little more than revenge for destroying its prize—it knew there was nothing to find here. Part of me understood why the sheriff had been more adept with guns than all of the thugs around here. Intimidation was the only way to keep ruthless menaces in check. I hoped Sheriff Donovan would pipe up some display of dominance that would chase them off, but the lawman was quiet. His rifle barrel never wavered, as we both heard the goons dismount their horses above our hiding spot.

“I’ll give you one last chance to get out of here, Sheriff, to give me something that I want. Send the hippo up here, so we can take a look at the thing.” Marlow’s voice had turned icy, a calculating purr in its voice. It was lying about letting Blake live; I could tell, but I hoped he wouldn’t be swayed. I wouldn’t blame him for saving his hide, after already risking his life and losing Bourbon. “That talking slate of his might be worth something. We could make do with that.”

Blake’s eyes dilated with anticipation of the kill. “Ya want Nilrie? You’ll hafta come down ‘ere and get ‘im.”

The bandits charged forward at Marlow’s behest, descending into the ditch. The unseemly whites of their eyes contrasted with the darkness of their silhouettes, and revealed they were looking toward the sheriff more than myself. Bullets sailed in Blake’s general direction, as soon as they had a visual on him. My ally blasted another shot right between the binocular eyes, which left three thugs swarming him. I fired a series of bullets that managed to catch one on the hip, and sent it tumbling to the ground. That left one less bandit for Sheriff Donovan to deal with, but Marlow was still afoot—and closing in on my friend in a maniacal frenzy. The lawman rolled away, scrambling off to the side; the bandit, meanwhile, was lurking behind its final unharmed lackey…using it as a shield.

I have to make sure the one I shot stays down, if Blake is to have a prayer. Prey killing a predator: that’s not the natural order of things. Only heroes like exterminators should have the guts for this.

I marched straight up to the writhing human I’d shot, placing the gun inches above its head. After reminding myself that this one was an outlaw, part of a gang intending to terrorize and plunder, I pulled the trigger. Blake was double-teamed in the meantime, leaping to his feet as bullets shredded the grass he’d been lying in. The sheriff snapped his rifle toward the blindly-firing henchman, who was shielding its boss from fire, and killed the criminal with his signature aim. Marlow seized the opening to get a shot off, and a piece of metal punched through Donovan’s stomach. Crimson blood stained his vest as he crumpled; the gun rolled out of his grasp. My heart seized in my chest.

I desperately pointed my sidearm toward Marlow, but the trigger pull was met by an empty click. Spraying bullets to hit something left me with none left to save Blake from his summary execution. In mere seconds, the beast who had rescued me from the crash would have his brains blown out; I’d be left alone with a full monster, and deprived of my sole companion on this hellish world. Amid a surge of fear, the impulses that had been telling me to flee tugged at my feet again—but this time, they left me to charge toward the greedy sociopath. I plowed into the malevolent predator, sending it crashing to the ground. The bandit lost its grasp on its weapon, giving me hope. I swung the empty sidearm toward its skull, but its hand swiveled to block the swing.

“You’re dead; you’re fucking dead!” John Marlow coiled its hand into a fist, and rammed it directly into my snout. Tendrils of pain lanced through my skin, as several teeth shattered from the bony force; I screeched in pain. “I don’t need you to operate the runes. You’re a dimwitted animal anyway! I’m gonna bash your fucking head in!”

The bandit pushed me directly in the chest, and I tumbled backward, landing on my own rump. It hopped to its feet, and seemed to savor the moment. It reared one leg back, smashing a foot through my snout again. My ears rang and my vision spun in circles from the forceful impact; with my head spinning, it was difficult to collect my bearings. Marlow bared its fangs in a giddy snarl, before jabbing its boot spurs onto my palm. It twisted its heel deeper as I screamed, feeling it tenderize every nerve in my appendage. This predator was going to beat me to death, because it enjoyed acting out torture and violence. I cowered, watching it pick up its gun.

“It’s been fun, hippo, but I’m not gonna risk the slate. Any last words?” the bandit snarled.

“I ‘ave some. Eat shit, you sonnova bitch.”

The gunshot sounded before the spiteful sentence hit Marlow’s ears. Blake had clawed his way to a crawling position, and grabbed his rifle out of the dirt. As scarlet blood seeped from his stomach onto the ground, Sheriff Donovan managed to keep his hands steady and maintain his focus. Bullseye Blake placed one final shot between the eyes, despite the bullet entering through the back of Marlow’s head. There was a moment of surprise in its pupils, before it fell lifeless next to me. I screamed again as I realized its brain matter had coated me; I was wearing its blood all over my body. My horror over the drenching dissipated, as my friend dropped into the dirt. 

Every part of my brain knew not to approach a wounded predator, since it would be running on survival instincts and in a particular state of violence. I dashed to Blake’s side regardless, scarcely even feeling the throbbing pain inside of my face. He groaned as I rolled him onto his back; his protests turned to sharp yelps and howls when I applied pressure to the wound, hoping to stymie the bleeding. The human gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He managed to blink one eye back open, locking onto my mangled muzzle. If the sheriff was affected by the scent of my own blue blood, he didn’t show it.

“I been meanin’ to…ask ye ‘bout the blue blood. Ever since I done yer bandages,” he grunted.

I drew a shaky breath, feeling water running down my cheeks. “It’s…about the p-protein that carries oxygen through the b-blood. We did it, Blake. We killed the bandits. I can fix you up now, and…”

“Ya don’t…got yer space med’cin. Guess this monster’ll be outta yer hair now…”

The sheriff’s eyelids fluttered, as his chest rose in a shallow gasp. I screamed at the sky, refusing to give up on Blake, but finding no easy answers. Unless I could find a way to get the predator to a “space medicine” treatment center, there was very little I could do to stop him from bleeding out in front of me.

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A/N - Chapter 7! Blake and Nilrie retrieve the explosives from the mines, as our narrator learns a bit about the gold rush, and also find a pair of intact cryopods to move away for our Takkan to be hidden away. Staring down possible death, Nilrie admits to being a bit fond of Bullseye Blake, despite his alarming killing abilities, and to seeing a good side of humanity in him. As the spaceship is blown sky-high, a livid Marlow comes riding in, and gets into a shootout with the unlikely duo. Nilrie is able to hold his own and take out a few, until the sheriff catches a nasty shot to the stomach. With his last bit of strength, Blake gets back up just long enough to stop Marlow from executing Nilrie, before collapsing for good.

Is there anything that Nilrie can do to save his predator ally? Will he even be able to hide away in a cryopod for long enough, without his only ally? What do you think of the shift in our narrator’s thoughts on humanity and Blake?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! I hope you enjoyed the action!