The Nature of Predators 2-18

Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist

Date [standardized human time]: March 20, 2160

There was no doubt that General Naltor, who’d eavesdropped on my conversation with Nulia during the feast, had connected the dots between Dustin and the group responsible for bombing Alsh. When the Gojid sociologist mentioned “exterminators,” I didn’t question it—assuming it was some sort of pest control for homes and cities. Now, I wasn’t so sure the word didn’t carry a more nefarious slant coming from aliens. It couldn’t be that they exterminated sapient lifeforms that didn’t align with their ideology. That couldn’t constitute an entire profession; it just wouldn’t be something Dustin would’ve joined up with, in his quest to study animals.

I hope the human has the sense to not mention that he worked with these people, and also, that Naltor doesn’t raise the topic now. Zalk’s headfeathers are practically twitching, with how hungry he is to pick apart Dustin’s answer.

“What do you mean by exterminators?” the Tseia asked, when the alien didn’t continue of his own volition.

“Please give me a chance to explain the full picture, before you jump down my throat.” The human tipped the disposable cup back, trying to suck down a few droplets of water. “The exterminators’ guild, in Federation space…they’re an organization devoted to removing all predators from a planet. The way that they do this is by…burning them alive to dispose of the contaminants.”

Holy Hirs, that’s so awful that it’s unfathomable. That’s how Dustin started his career in xenobiology? Humans are predators…there have to be exterminators that’d want him dead.

Betrayal gleamed in Naltor’s eyes. “Their job is to give animals the most painful death possible; to eradicate them?! Why would…anyone work for an organization like that?”

Dustin lowered his eyes. “Um, Zalk, the reason my friends are looking at me like that is because I worked a part-time job with them as a teenager.”

“It’s almost like you want to be a martyr.” Zalk’s beak wired itself shut, a livid grimace on his expression. He seemed to weigh giving the human over to his soldiers. “You were involved with the people who harmed us.”

“Whoa, look, I joined because I was trying to stop them! The mere thought of baby animals, nest doused in gasoline, screaming—it gave me nightmares, to be honest. I thought maybe I could show them other ways to handle animals, and give them some true ecological understanding. Like…nightprowlers? A predator on Skalga’s dark side? They’re not mindless killers that exist for mauling Venlil. They mate for life, they bray to express loneliness, and—”

“Nobody fucking asked! Stay on topic, like why you’d think you can change people who bombed us like…mindless fucking killers.”

“Humans have tried to fix things, and show these former Federation species a better way. We’ve succeeded to an extent, prying the extraneous duties they had away; some exterminator offices have become pest control, or shuttered their doors, thanks to our efforts at education. It’s hard to explain in short, but these underling races were conquered and brainwashed into being like this. There was so much more to the exterminators than what I just said.”

“Now isn’t the time to take it slow, or worry about worsening things.” Sensing the Tseia’s growing rage at the vague explanations, I placed myself between Dustin and Zalk, despite my tremors of fear. “Explain all of it, Dustin. Please…for your sake.”

“Right. I’m sorry. What I’m saying is they did much more than torch animals. They had tons of influence and resources; they were local heroes. They acted as a sort of police force, locking up people who didn’t behave ‘preylike.’ That went as far as monitoring children in school, or branding dissidents who questioned the dogma. The reason the public thought burning predators was so necessary was that they called murders predator attacks. The oh-so-peaceful prey were incapable of such violence, so no matter how improbable it was, blame it on a predator.”

“What the fuck?” Naltor exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that mean the real murderers were roaming free? You’re telling me that if someone was gutted in a skyscraper, they’d assume it was an animal. That makes zero sense.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. We had to live with these people getting called on us just for walking down the street. I could tell you plenty of stories about how they threatened refugees like me; zero repercussions for excessive use of force, even if they don’t kill you. They came to my school and held all of the human kids at flamethrowerpoint, and I still wanted to help change them. Candidly, I would’ve chopped off an arm if it meant I could study alien animals. Nobody had, not in any scientific way, so it was unexplored territory.”

Zalk narrowed his eyes. “You’ve explained why they’d burn our…nests, and told a wonderful tale of persecution, but you haven’t explained why they had bombs.”

“That relates to their part in colonization: something that’ll make more sense with the full picture. When the Federation would colonize a new planet, they’d want to…eliminate all predatory infestations ahead of the settlers. Because a world is teeming with wildlife, they’d do this from orbit…with antimatter. Shit, when we expanded outward for our first far-off colony, the Mazics—an ally that genuinely thought they were helping—offered to bomb the planet, so it was ‘suitable’ for habitation.”

“Are you saying that this ship was looking at Ivrana as a potential colony?”

“Yes, my theory is they were some kind of scouting expedition. Bissems, to them, were an infestation to be removed, with whatever they had at their disposal. I know because an entire extermination fleet came to my home, and wiped out a billion humans by that logic. If I may, look what they did to our metropolises.”

Dustin pointed to his holopad, and after some consideration, Zalk passed it to him. My mind was reeling from what I’d just learned, about the lunacy on other planets. Torching wildlife species with the goal of bringing about their extinction would, for starters, lead to massive ecological consequences—beyond the fact that it was needless cruelty. Animals might not have our mental capacity, but they had pain receptors just like we did. How could they think we were monsters for catching fish, to survive, yet carry out something so senseless? How could Dustin, and humanity, see any of the Federation as salvageable, after everything that happened to them?

A billion dead. I knew there were attempts to slaughter the Terrans, and that they were “nearly wiped out” because of hatred, but I thought they managed to stave off the worst. Earth won the war, but at what cost? How are they not resentful, like the Tseia?

The human’s eyebrows slanted downward, sorrow evident on his features. Naltor and I drifted closer to Zalk, as the Tseia Coast Guard officer and his men watched news footage from the time. There was footage captured from hundreds of miles away, live rolls of cities being leveled from the stars; it was the first time I’d seen pity on the nomads’ features, as they recognized themselves. Horror shot through my own chest, and spewed from Tseia beaks, as we saw images of a blue-feathered avian race, seemingly a crash-landed soldier, shooting a human baby in a stroller. The footage cut to the rubble of once grand metropolises and husks of skyscrapers, before showing blackened corpses…ending with rescue efforts to dig out any survivors, and rows of burn victims.

“Humanity understands your position, more than anyone,” Dustin sighed. “We get what it’s like to feel alone, and to be attacked without reason, knowing there’s little hope to defend yourself. So many lives lost—culture evaporated—for no reason. We grasp the fear of wondering whether your species will exist tomorrow.”

Naltor folded his flippers in front of his blubber, steaming. “How can you just forgive them? You told us those blue birds are part of your Coalition. Shit, how can you be so optimistic, in light of everything that’s happened?”

“I choose to focus on the good in people: all people. I choose to have hope. The ones who hurt us were victims of the Federation’s iron fist, and maybe that offers some…closure.  A way to find peace in our hearts and let go of the past, so it doesn’t continue to stain our future.”

“You think the monsters who bombed us were victims, with good in them?” Zalk spat.

“I think they weren’t always monsters, and that many of them thought they were committing a positive deed—warped as it was in actuality. I’m saddened that they were so poisoned by hatred, and that it hurt us both. The Tseia have been poisoned by hate for generations. Isn’t it wretched? Aren’t you miserable?”

“Fuck. You have some nerve, lobbing a question like that at us.”

“It’s the truth, Zalk. I’m willing to die in the name of truth and peace. Someone has to be.”

As Naltor had become incensed by what he learned, I felt numb. There were zero positive points that I’d seen so far, in what had been the galaxy’s status quo for centuries. No matter how naive and optimistic the Selmer general thought I was, even my spirits were tanking. I wasn’t sure how I could rebound from atrocity after atrocity, and I wondered whether Dustin’s commitment to truth was doing us any favors. It was taking years off of my life, that was for certain. The observant part of my mind that dissected statements was still kicking, however, zeroing in what was said about underling races. What happened to the founders that “victimized” humanity’s aggressors, abducting and conquering them as I recalled it?

Knowing how right Naltor was about the threats aliens could pose, and how much Zalk wants someone to blame, it might be useful to ask. I need to say something to snap out of this funk.

I forced my beak to open. “Dustin? What happened to the ‘founders’, as you called them? It might be helpful for Zalk, and all of us, to know…who they are. Whether they’re part of the Sapient Coalition.”

“The Farsul and the Kolshians? Both are quarantined to their planets and stripped of their military. We ensured they wouldn’t be curing ‘predators’ and gentling ‘prey’ again,” the xenobiologist answered. “We surrounded the Farsul homeworld with a debris cage, and took permanent control of the orbital defenses by the Kolshians’ world. They haven’t been forgiven in the ways others have. Them, and the Arxur: the people-eating carnivores, Zalk.”

The Tseia blinked in slow motion. “Yes, Tassi mentioned that fun fact. I must ask why you brought Haliska to Ivrana, if you knew that we’d remind her of the Arxur.”

“Politics. A poor, but truthful, answer. There was a lot of opposition to our mission, and some herbivores were disgruntled that we didn’t include one of them. The Yotul—a rather vocal critic of our plans, eager to seize any opportunity—accused us of censoring parts of our allies that we didn’t like. It forced our hand a bit. Hallie performed well in testing, so we were…hopeful.”

“I see. The elders appreciate your honesty, but they would like to know what you could possibly offer the Tseia. To add onto their words with my own, everything around you sounds like a clusterfuck.”

Derision flashed in Naltor’s eyes. “What do you know? I guess I can agree with these nomad pricks on something.”

“I shudder to think how we’ll ever explain any of this to the public,” I murmured. “How we can, in earnest, convince them to embrace aliens, after all we’ve learned.”

Dustin bit his lower lip. “It breaks my heart to hear you so dejected, Tassi. All of you are right to be upset and concerned. For the Tseia, and the interests of all Bissems, I can’t do anything to fix or change the past. My meager promise is that you won’t stand alone in the future, whatever challenges may come. We will continue to give our all to forging a different galaxy. There is no greater friend than humanity.”

Zalk adjusted a small strip of metal by his ear, listening to some voice on the other end; I wondered how many of the judgment calls had truly been his, or whether he was deferring to his leaders’ decisions. When he decided to hear Dustin’s side of the story, I believed that had been his choice. It hadn’t sounded like he was heeding some instructions from higher up the chain of command, when he ordered us to turn back from the Lighthouse. Cameras were pointed at the chair meant for interrogating the alien, suggesting that these elders had an easier view of this occurrence.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Zalk, other than that my appeal, to gather all the facts and not attack a person who came in genuine friendship, had landed. If the Coast Guard’s leader had allowed his subordinates to enact revenge on Dustin, I could imagine what state he’d be in now. He was a reasoned individual, and also one who’d empathized with Earth’s plight—no matter how much he put the Tseia’s interests first. Maybe the answers over what prompted the strike on Alsh, unthinkable as they were, had given him some closure. Not understanding why the aliens attacked them and having lived in constant fear of the heavens must’ve driven the nomads mad.

I’m glad that Lassmin didn’t know, in a way. FAI never would’ve sent out our probes, and all Bissems would’ve been robbed of the opportunity to learn about our star system. It was beautiful and transcendent to visit space, even looking back in hindsight, knowing what ugliness surrounded us.

“On behalf of the Tseia Nomads, we’ve decided to accept your offer of friendship. You’re free to go,” Zalk sighed. “If you’d like to see the wreckage, any of you, that’s very easy. It’s right outside this door.”

The wall to the far side parted with a loud creaking noise, likely triggered by someone observing the scene. The ship wreckage caught our gazes, with its proximity and sorry state. Battered bits of the hull were strewn apart, with some compartments more intact than others; the outline of a missile impact was visible on the near side, from the nomads shooting it down. General Naltor hurried over to the corroding, blackened bits of metal, eager to identify what sort of weaponry alien vessels possessed. I helped the human to his feet, and walked beside him until he crouched beside the Selmer. The primate’s eyes darted around, checking that the Tseia were out of earshot, before opening his mouth for a subtle message to Naltor.

“Please, get word to Nulia in the Merlei Huddledom, as soon as you can. She’s not safe here. She needs to get off-world, before the Tseia tell anyone about what the Gojids did,” Dustin hissed.

The Selmer remained perfectly still. “I’ll get word to Lassmin. It might take time, but I agree we can’t let anything happen to her.”

“Great. Thank you, Naltor.”

“Don’t mention it. This is becoming a weekly occurrence—me saving your asses, after some part of your psycho history comes out. Are you sure you didn’t mind-control me into going along with your delusions?”

“I did no such thing. Haliska is the one who chipped you.”

Zalk approached, with leery guards tailing behind. The human shushed his banter with a smirk, somehow not dispirited by the charred wreckage right before him. I turned my gaze past the ruins of our true “first contact”, and caught a peek of the city the nomads had hidden away beneath a metal overhang—built off the scraps of alien technology. No outsider Bissems were allowed to view what was within Tseia settlements in the past, so this level of transparency was novel. Digitized screens with holographic projections were all over their buildings, along with what appeared to be robotic servitors. This Bissem nation was much more advanced than they’d ever let on.

“This is Spring’s Breath, a city which is most populated during the spring festivals. We migrate from city to city as a sort of seasonal pilgrimage,” Zalk remarked. “Right now, it’s mostly manned by the military. It’s the site of The Wreck, and it’s close to the lighthouse.”

Dustin stood slowly, turning to face the Tseia. “I would love to learn more about the history of your migratory habits, and everything about those festivals: the impacts it must have on your culture make me giddy! I’m no sociologist like my squadmate, but even I could spend years just learning about your customs.”

“Perhaps another time, we can discuss these things. Right now, I’m much more interested in where we go from here. Now that we’re…trying to move forward in diplomacy.”

“Isn’t it obvious? We return to Lassmin, and tell the public the truth. Together. We make sure that everyone in the Sapient Coalition knows what was done to the Tseia.”

I stiffened with concern. “Respectfully, I don’t know how we can ask the public to handle this. It’ll incite mass panic. All of this is…horrifying.”

“That’s something we’ll have to plan together,” Naltor interjected. “Dustin doesn’t want to play a part in hiding things from the people, and neither do I. This entire excursion has given me a…new perspective on how infuriating a lack of transparency is.”

“Bissems deserve the truth. I have faith in them to handle it, just like all of you have stepped up to the occasion. We need their trust to save Ivrana, and I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, than I am about repairing this world,” the human said.

“I don’t want them to feel alone and unsafe. I don’t want their hope, about all of the wonderful promises you made, to die.” Like mine is on life support, I thought silently.

“Neither do I, Tassi. It’s up to all of us to give them a path forward, and a reason to carry on. We need to be strong, for every soul on this planet.”

“I’ll try. For what it’s worth, I believe in you. Your people. Your mission. We just have to make others see who you really are.”

“A nerd,” Naltor interjected.

“For fuck’s sake. We were having a moment!”

“Well, you know what I’m having? A headache. I think I’ve had enough of all this for one day. Where can a man get some sleep around here?”

Zalk tilted his head. “I’ll take you to the local inn, while I’ll get your boat unimpounded, and make preparations to return with you. We can leave after you’ve rested up. Let’s go.”

While curiosity would normally prompt me to explore what was, in essence, an alien culture, I couldn’t feel any drive to roam Spring’s Breath. Much like Naltor, stress was building up a massive amount of tension in my skull; I’d love to lay down and try to get some sleep, though I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stop thinking about all that we learned today. With my resilience to negativity waning, I focused as best as I could on what we needed to do. I hoped that I could remain strong enough to steer Ivrana into the post-alien era, for all of our sakes.

A/N - Chapter 18! Dustin explains the exterminators to Zalk, along with his theory that it was a colonization scout that for some reason ventured to Ivrana, and also shares about the extermination fleet. Tassi’s optimism has taken a nosedive to the point she’s not even interested in exploring the digitized Nomad city, while Naltor is surprisingly on board with sharing the alien attack story with the public ASAP. We also see a direct admission about the politics behind Haliska’s inclusion on the team, and a mention that the Kolshians/Farsul are still locked down in 2160.

Do you agree with Dustin’s theory, in spite of the oddities that don’t quite fit into place? What do you think of the Tseia, in light of their acceptance of humanity’s friendship? How will the Bissem public and the SC react to the news…and will Tassi get her high hopes back?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!