The Nature of Predators - Wild West (1/11)

Memory Transcription Subject: Nilrie, Takkan Smuggler

Date [standardized human time]: April 5, 1851

Engine failure. The dangers of flying a shuttle with reckless abandon, trying to smuggle medical goods; I'd flown a bit too close to this blue planet's gravity, in a system at the galaxy's fringes. Trying to skirt Venlil Prime had been a mistake, and there would be nobody coming to rescue me.

Were there native lifeforms on this world? I squinted at the horizon, seeing a small, rundown town of sorts, away from the desert—an abundance of prickly green plants, which looked like their flat fronds were clustered together, met my sight. The civilization was rather primitive, single stories made of brick and a dirt road cleared it. Small figures moved on the horizon, along with the occasional four-legged, muscular animal: twin sapients like the Suleans and Iftalis, I guessed? The downside is that these were obvious primitives, using wooden wagons and having not tamed their environment. Predators could be afoot.

I'd crawled out of the wreckage in a haze of adrenaline, and checked all my limbs to make sure they were intact. A Takkan's leathery, gray arms stared back at me, still in one piece despite the pain signals emanating from them. I blinked away tears, trying to crawl to safety. I could hear hooves pounding against the Earth, as the quadruped galloped toward me at blistering speed. Was the bipedal species riding atop? There was some sort of rimmed hat, extending from its round skull. Calling for help would be futile since they lacked translators, but I did anyway. My strength was fading quickly.

There do seem to be rudimentary electrical communications, according to my device, though they're hard-wired. The translator will take a lot of time to decode that; I need better access to their language. Maybe it'll pick up enough.

The biped was wearing strange garments, though it was difficult to see its face through the rimmed hat tilted toward its forehead. The creature seemed to be staring straight at my ship; its breath hitched as if it was fearful. A metal object was pinned to its chest cloth, with pointed protrusions sticking from the circle. Its appendage shifted to something by its hip, and my blood ran cold as it reached for a firearm. Unless this was an exterminator, why would any species carry that kind of weaponry?

It dismounted on lanky legs, aiming the firearm straight at me. The quadruped reared back, and the biped turned briefly, holding up its hands as if to calm the creature. It stumbled backward, before keeping a nervous focus on me. Its body language showed confusion—why was I internally referring to the species as it? Why were my emotions running amok, and my heart rate speeding up like my ship as it hurtled toward the earth? The creature pointed its face toward me, and I finally saw the worst trait of any species could have: binocular eyes. Pointed directly at me, as it aimed a weapon at me, inspecting the new prey that'd tumbled from the sky.

Between my injuries and the sight of this dreadful, hideous monster, all of my faculties shut down. Why did it have to be a beastly world? I fainted like a lightbulb flickering out, leaving me at this repugnant creature's mercy.

---

I returned to wakefulness in a bit of a fog, grateful that the entire crashing experience had been a horrid nightmare. I could still see that monster’s face in my mind, pale and flabby; its eyes had been dark pits of hatred, stretching wide enough to enhance its view of prey. It was then I noticed the linen tucked up against my snout, and that I was on a mattress that felt strangely lumpy, like it were made from stray grasses. Panic clawed at my heart, as I snapped upright; some strange metal cuff held me back, tying my arm to the bedpost. No…it was real. The cursed creature was keeping me as exotic cattle…a slave at best, like that quadruped that it’d been riding.

I flailed about despite a tremendous amount of pain; the strange part was that bandages had been placed over my wounds, and the creature had resisted the scent of a powerless prey animal’s blood. The dark ceiling overhead didn’t offer any comfort over the gloom of this archaic place, with decaying, unsanitary walls and features mostly made of wood. What could I offer these greedy predators? Maybe that was why it had brought me into the town, to see if I had weapons that’d aid its killing: a higher goal than forsaking a meal. My periphery enhanced to its whole range, and I noticed the same demon from before, sitting on a chair with a gun.

A scream burst from my throat, as primal terror took over; I could feel every fiber of my being reacting to those watchful pupils, which were dissecting my muscles to find the fleshiest bits. It was savoring its kill, perhaps, taking its time. There was a hardness in its binocular eyes, as its mouth parted to reveal nasty fangs: chipped, yellowed, and decaying. It spit on the floor, asserting dominance and marking its territory. I whimpered as it stood, marching over to me with a gleam in those foul irises, resplendent with hunger.

“What the fuck are ye?” the predator asked, prodding me with its gun. The translator must’ve attained enough of its language to tell me the gist of what it was saying. “Ye ain’t human. You fell…from the sky. You gonna cause trouble?”

I gasped, struggling to find my voice. “D-don’t hurt me. P-please! I’m…not food.”

“Look, I got no clue what the fuck yer saying. Do you understand me one bit, son? Move yer head up and down if ya do.”

The creature was clever enough to figure out a bypass for our communication block, wondering just what it’d gotten its grubby paws on. I bobbed my head in the motions it directed, hoping that my compliance would prevent me from getting tortured. The fur above its hideous eyes raised, and it whistled to itself. It waved the gun around with reckless abandon, as I felt bare and exposed under the weight of its scrutiny. I couldn’t believe how close the reeking vermin was; I could see much more of that thing than my eyes wanted to process.

These monsters live just like the Arxur, in squalor and waving guns about as part of their daily life. There’s no hope of getting a ship here, since it’s not like they know how to fix it.

The predator paced, seeming a bit apprehensive itself. “Ye can thank my wife for fixing ya up. Answer some basic questions, and maybe we can help each other out; seems like ya got a real problem with your flyin’ thingamabob. What is your name?”

“Nilrie,” I managed.

“Nilrie. I’m Sheriff Blake Donovan. Nice to meet ya. This is about the weirdest thing that’s happened on my watch; what a story. Gotta get the newspapers out here, not sure they believe it. Did something go wrong with your…flying machine? It…broke, like a wagon falling apart? Nod up and down if yes.”

I imitated the motion, sucking in a sharp breath. Every nerve in my body felt overstimulated by fear chemicals, trapped in close proximity to this vicious abomination—in its own lair, touching its tainted things. I didn’t understand why “Sheriff Donovan” was making conversation with a prey animal, but perhaps it was trying to trick me into giving it information. It wanted its nasty kind to steal our civilized inventions, and make it to the stars to take everything from the Federation. It was several steps ahead of me, planning our conquest! I had to stay strong, unless I wanted my entire species split in cattle pens between the Arxur and these things.

The sheriff picked up my holopad from a chipped nightstand, turning it toward me. I flailed my arms, suspecting it wanted me to show it what this was. It wouldn’t be a good idea to go along with that, since that would give it access to all the information in the Federation. Then again, the monster couldn’t read it—it was too primitive to understand computers. Sheriff Donovan hesitated, before creeping close to me. It slowly unhooked one of my limbs, handing over the device; it backed away warily, eyeing me as if I was dangerous.

“What the hell is this? It glows with symbols, like some kind of magic rune,” Donovan grumbled.

Trying to gather my thoughts, I booted up an audio translator app, hoping it’d convert my speech into words in the bestial tongue. “A h-holopad. It s-stores information, and shows it through, um, light. Light that reads that information.”

The hunter nearly jumped out of its boots when the holopad spit out audio information, snapping the gun toward me in a bout of alarm. The speech had caught Donovan off-guard, though it quickly collected itself, backing even further away. It muttered several swear words, and a few pleas to some god that I had no clue about: probably wishing for a blood god to grant it permission to eat me. Its eyes had gone even wider, revealing the reddish veins within its unnatural whites—colorless, just as its soul had nothing to color it in. This thing was savage, and could be set off by any trace of prey traits.

Maybe shut off the holopad; you don’t want to anger this terror. Who knows what could make it turn on you, or rip your arm clean off the bone?

“This…slate talks. Sweet Jesus, it fucking talked. Oh Lord.” The sheriff brought its hands to its head, drawing a shaky breath. “How did ya do that?”

Tears swelled in my eyes, as nauseating anxiety made me drop the device onto the mattress. “It’s… a tool. A machine. I don’t know how to explain it in t-terms that would make sense, but it can c-convert my language to yours. You…want me to talk?”

“Yes, yes, I do. I…I need a minute. Holy shit. That’s magic right there, rocks don’t work like that. Metal don’t do that.”

“It uses electricity. Like…um, lightning, to power…f-functions. It is p-programmed to do calculations. It’s science, not magic.”

“I knew you was a person, second I saw yas crawling outta that sky contraption. What the fuck are ye?”

“A Takkan.”

“The fuck does that mean? What are you?”

“An…alien. I’m f-from the sky…but the stars part of the sky. Does y-your kind even know about that?”

“I’ll be damned. There’s people that live up in the stars, and ya came here for what?”

“Accident. I’m s-sorry for trespassing on your territory. Please don’t eat me, please!”

The sheriff scowled. “What are ya on about? I ain’t gonna eat you. I had ya fixed up, good as new. Ye sounded awful nervous though, I’ll tell ya that; I don’t know what I done to ya.”

“You’re…surely you have…v-violent plans toward me. You’re a…”

“A what? A human? A sheriff?” 

“A…p-p-predator.”

Donovan squinted. “I don’t follow. I ain’t the type of man that hurts nobody; I protect folks. Keep ‘em safe from the rascals and outlaws. That what you think I am?”

“You…do you eat flesh?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ cannibal. What kinda savages do you think we are?”

“I…m-misunderstood. Sorry!” But the guns, and the evil eyes. This thing has to be a predator. “If you’re not a predator…just let me out. P-please. I don’t want to be here.”

“I scare ya. Ha, I scare you. That’s a good one, real good. I can’t let ya out; I don’t know what ya want, star man, but I can’t risk ya hurting the people of this town. Yer gonna have to stay here ‘til I trust ya, got it? ‘Sides, I wanna know yer stuff works.”

“B-but you’re keeping me against my will, and I’ve done nothing wrong.” I can’t stay here with these unsightly, soul-draining monstrosities. It’s lying through its teeth about what it is, just to get me to talk about my “stuff!” “I’m d-done talking. Go on. Do what you’re going to do. I’m n-not gonna let you kill all of m-my friends.”

The human tilted its head, before grunting. “I don’t know how ya think I’d do anything of the sort, or why I would. I ain’t no threat if you’re not a threat to me, but the things you’re capable of…I think ya are a threat. I’ll see ya when ya feel more cooperative, Nilrie.”

The beast took away my holopad, which left me no hope of trying to send up signals to the Federation while it wasn’t looking; it seemed to be messing with the device, trying to figure out how it worked. It took a final glance at me, awful fantasies dancing in its eyes, as it stalked away to scheme how it was going to make me more cooperative. I found myself wishing that I hadn’t survived the crash at all, left to such a terrible fate: prisoner to an irredeemable species of gun-toters.

---

My mind roamed with possibilities, thinking about the primitive creature throughout the night. The sleep I managed to have was broken by nightmares featuring Blake Donovan’s face, with that scraggly strip of fur above its lips. I remembered seeing it up close and personal, grime and sweat caked on its unhygienic body. Predators wouldn’t consider bathing to cover up their own stench. Why had it, or rather, its wife nursed wounded prey back to full health? It must’ve been because the information was valuable enough to merit such coddling behavior.

Donovan denied that it was a predator, rather than strutting around and owning that fact with pride. It didn’t seem capable of understanding much of anything, as far as higher concepts went; it called my holopad magic. If the creature found out all I was carting around was medical supplies, surely it wouldn’t bother keeping me around. It wouldn’t have any use for that, caring for sick members of the herd. It couldn’t be bothered to build basic amenities for itself, or to bring me food and water. At least it was leaving me alone; I wouldn’t want to eat any of what it considered a meal.

When I asked if it ate flesh, it replied, “I’m not a fuckin’ cannibal.” What did that even mean?

The mattress was uncomfortable, and my arm ached. I tugged at the bedpost in futility, chained amid a settlement of the ugliest species I’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Perhaps when it came back, I could figure out what it was looking for, and deceive it into thinking I had weapons. I strained my ears, trying to hear what the primitives were saying to each other. It was odd that Blake had a permanent mate, since that would imply some form of attachment.

“Whatever’s out there in the heavens, it’s God's creation. It can’t be bad, darling. It has to all be happening for a reason,” a female human was saying.

An irritated huff came from the sheriff. “What more do ye want from me? I’m lettin’ Nilrie stay in our home, endangering my family. Look at this unnatural piece uh junk.”

“We don’t treat our guests as prisoners. You said yourself that he’s scared of you, so why don’t we try to give him a warm welcome? What crime has he committed to be locked up for?”

“I don’t trust him none. It’s messin’ with my head; don’t know what to make of him or whatta do with him.”

“Let Nilrie eat breakfast with us, and be kind to him. Show him a bit of the town, how we live, so he can be comfortable with us. He’ll see we’re good, honest people.”

“He said he wasn’t gonna let me kill all his folks. What was that about?”

“Someone threatened or hurt him. Isn’t that what you do, Blake? Protect people who need your help?”

The nasty-looking human issued a sigh. “Yer right, Cornelia. I’ll go bring him to the table, but he steps one foot out of line–”

“It’s the right thing to do. I’m proud of you—I’ll fix some oats for us.”

Hearing footsteps coming back toward my room, I pulled the blanket over my head with my free appendage, shuddering. As much as I didn’t want to eat with these creatures, I was famished…and if they were letting me walk about, I might have a chance to escape from this hut. The most bewildering part was Cornelia’s suggestion to be kind to me, which made no sense coming from a predator. It was likely a performance for an eavesdropping prey animal, but maybe there was a sliver of hope that I could make it out of this town in one piece.

Next

A/N - Part 1 of our cowboy adventure! A Takkan smuggler crashes on 1850s Earth, and is rescued by a human sheriff who brings him back home. Nilrie is terrified of Blake Donovan…who we know is equal parts confused by and apprehensive of our alien’s technology, origins, and inhumanity. While the sheriff is worried about letting Nilrie roam loose, his wife persuaded him to let their guest join them for a meal. What do you think of Nilrie’s reactions to humanity, without the context most Feddies in the series would’ve had…and what bits of this historical period do you think will spark reactions? 

Also, what do you think of how Blake is processing all of this, and what must be going through his head? Will he figure out exactly what is meant by the predator remarks, and if so, how will he handle that? It’s yet to be seen how other humans in the town would react to the bizarre visitor and his talking rock. We also have to see how Nilrie’s perspective will be affected by the shared meal with his binocular-eyed saviors…and what plan he’ll come up with from here.

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! I hope you enjoy this unique setting, and seeing how it might tie into the rest of the canonical tales.