The Nature of Predators 2-15

Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist

Date [standardized human time]: March 20, 2160

I woke up drenched in a cold sweat for the third night in a row. My fingers were clutching the blankets as if my life depended on it; my breathing was erratic, with my brain locking me into fight-or-flight mode. I sank back against my pillow slowly, trying to collect myself. The thuds of my heart punished my ribcage, a frantic pace that felt impossible for the blood-pumping organ. All I saw when I closed my eyes was sand raining atop my head: burying me. The screams of the other humans echoed in my ears tonight, before I was teleported into the morgue. Kabir’s corpse had been there, burned like the victims in the medical clinic, before his accusatory eyes turned toward me.

In the waking world, I knew that horror wouldn’t leave me. All of those people had died because of me. I should’ve read Gress better, since that was the very thing I was trusted to do by the colony. How could I be furious at the Consortium, when it was our shiftiness that left them thinking we were with the Federation? The blame belonged on my shoulders, for my decisions. Everywhere I looked around Tellus—watching grieving friends, or seeing miners without any work—I was reminded of the blood on my hands. They might as well have been stained red: proclaiming my sins to the entire community that I had failed.

My entire life, I’ve felt trapped underground, but it’s never been on this level. If Gress is offering to take me away from here, it’s time to get going. I have to get out of here.

While I’d spent the past few days recuperating in my quarters, the Krev rent collector had been making the rounds on the colony. When I chatted with Cherise over a call, she described him as keen to get his claws on any information about humans. It might’ve been suicidal, not too long ago, to mingle with the miners, but being the first aliens to tolerate our appearance won him some favor. Everyone had gotten wind of his story by now, and many humans had finally put ourselves in their shoes. Who wouldn’t want to keep away from the Federation?

It was a miracle, but we might’ve found the only sane species in the galaxy. That left me ever more apprehensive for news of the Jaslips; while I was disconcerted about the idea of handling any kind of responsibility, on humanity’s behalf, Gress was adamant that I represent the colony. I needed to get back on the horse. The thought of a sightseeing tour of Avor did bring excitement to my chest. It’d been a long time since I saw a proper city outside of a screen, and there were many outdoorsy activities I’d never experienced. Did…did I even deserve those experiences?

I popped in my earbuds, opting to call Cherise as I packed my bag. “Good morning. I’m back on my own two feet, and ready to head out if you are. Do you know where I can find Gress?”

“Not so fast,” she replied. “Did Doctor Adebayo clear you to leave?”

“Well, she didn’t explicitly say I couldn’t. Genuinely, I am fine. My injuries were minor, and a few days’ rest has given me my strength back. Walking, talking, a-okay. It’ll be exciting to head to Avor. Been a long time since I’ve been to space, you know.”

“Taylor, I know for a fact that you’re not okay. We all harbored a lot of pent-up anger, after what the aliens have done, but you’ve always been a maestro at kissing up to their faces. You were never this irritable; set off on a dime, at the expense of your own goals.”

“My temper was a little short, and I’m sorry that I lost it with Gress. The drill accident was still fresh; I saw red, when he just…walked off! It was inexcusable, and I know I coulda fucked us all. I’m beyond sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I can’t say part of me didn’t like it when you clubbed him over the head. Hathaway’s chewed you out enough. I’m saying this because I’m worried about you, and I want you to know it’s okay to sit this one out. You went through a traumatic experience, almost dying, and it hasn’t even been a week. You could have a form of PTSD. A lot of cases, it goes away with enough time, but…I’m sure Gress would understand. You’re unfit to travel.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “Stop psychoanalyzing me. You’re not a fucking doctor. Besides, even if you were right, you really want to go crying mental issues to an alien? So he can assume I have predator disease?”

“There’s no reason to think Gress believes in predator disease. He thinks the Federation are nutcases, just like we do. These guys might actually know a thing or two about head trauma. If he wanted to slap you with that kind of label, I think he wouldn’t have excused away your assault.”

“Well, I appreciate the concern, but it’s not needed. I can do this. I’m upset about what happened, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. If you don’t want to go to Avor anymore, I understand; it’s dangerous. Just don’t try to stop me from making amends. Now you gonna tell me where Gress is, or not?”

Silence came from the other end of the earbuds, as I zipped up my makeshift travel bag. “Ugh. I imagine Gress is at the bar with the miners. He got very shitfaced the first night you were sidelined, and tried to pet and hug everyone. Hasn’t drank since, but still…he’s there a bunch. I’ll send a message to Hathaway, and we’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t want to go wait for us on the ship?”

“There’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving you alone with an alien. Especially since it’s time we got some answers about those ‘Jaslips’, and however the Krev ‘stopped the Federation from finding them.’”

“Shit, I’ll drink to that. We might not like Gress’ little story, I think. See you soon.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder, fantasizing to myself that I was a human on Earth, heading off to a beach resort in the Caribbean. We didn’t exactly have summer holidays, or any sort of reprieve, holed away down here. I skimmed my packing list one last time, making sure I hadn’t forgotten any essentials that the Krev might not have. I’d squirreled away some snack bars, just in case their ideas of primate diets were the dried insects they fed the obors. Pea-brained Juvre might have no standards for what he’d put in his mouth, but I was sapient. As much as I was itching to set off, it’d boil my blood to travel with that crazed demon.

Gress tried to tell me that Juvre was afraid of me, but that obor knew what it was doing: goes and perches, nice and innocent, on the Krev’s shoulder afterward. Cherise thinks I’m irritable now? I’m gonna get that stupid monkey back.

I sped up my strides as I entered the main cavern, casting my gaze to the elevator; with no reason to control traffic in and out of the colony, the gates and security restrictions had been lifted. From what I’d been told in earlier calls, Gress had relayed that we were primate refugees of war, rather than Federation oppressors. The Consortium signed off on our visit to Avor, which I supposed was an optimistic sign that they might help. I hadn’t even thought of what to ask for, but it would be wonderful if they could build a proper, aboveground home for us. It was bizarre to encounter aliens that had any semblance of charity or curiosity toward us.

Smiling bitterly to myself, I propelled my feet onward into the bar: given our circumstances, liquor was never out of fashion on Tellus. Drunken escapades were one way to cope with your homeworld being eradicated, and living two decades in an underground burrow. Just as Cherise had predicted, the green scales of the rent collector were visible atop a stool. A muscular miner sat across from Gress, waving a pint of beer in jolly fashion. The Krev was nonplussed by the human dwarfing his own figure, or the impressive “guns” that constituted his biceps. Several humans appeared to be eavesdropping on the conversation.

“So the real reason the payments weren’t ready was a strike?” Gress echoed. “I don’t blame you. We wanted it to be unfavorable, so you’d settle elsewhere. I’m going to ask for the Consortium to repay the materials’ shipments, and make it right. You don’t need to toil on our behalf, ever again; sweet darlings. I wish I could tear those Federation fuckers a new one.”

The human chugged the last of his beer. “You and me both. Except for the Vennies. Sure, they’d have piss dribbling down their fur at the bloody sight of us, but they tried to befriend us. To…stop what happened to Earth. They’re probably dead now too, ‘cause of it.”

“I’m sorry, Dale. Really, I am. I saw what you put yourselves through, trying to be their friends. However pitiful those Venlil acted, they’re probably the reason you made it here at all. The exchange program idea was adorable—”

“Except that we had to censor everything about our culture,” I spoke from behind Gress. “We picked a lot of tree-huggers to talk to the Venlil, and that’s the only reason they helped us.”

“Taylor! It’s good to see you. I was getting worried; I only have two days to get home, before Lecca’s performance. Maybe I can even take you…if you want. Please, grab a seat!”

“I’m good, thanks. I came here to let you know I’m ready to travel to Avor.”

“As am I,” Cherise’s voice said from next to me. “Taylor, the Venlil died for us. Whatever the exchange program’s faults were, some of those xenos called humans friends…short-lived as that was. Nobody else cared.”

“We care. My point was, I’ve been thinking about an exchange program between the Krev and humans. Voluntary, of course, but our morale’s been drained—just like yours. We’d love to get to know you. Fostering a few friendships could be a wonderful thing for us all.”

Mayor Hathaway strolled up to the table. “I’m sure we could drum up some interest. Humanity…has been in dire need of friends for far too long.”

Dale finished his pint, standing up. “You’re not half-bad, scales. I’ll leave you all to it, but count me in if you start an exchange program. Cheers mate.”

I waited as the miner ducked away, mulling over what seemed to be Gress’ latest idea. Cultural exposure wasn’t a bad idea, but how could humans ever bare our souls before aliens again? The idea of the Krev being our friends was appealing, in practice, yet there was so much baggage from our prior exchange program. However much more fortitude the scaly mammals had than the Federation, it’d be in the back of our minds about putting one foot wrong. Beyond that, I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that we resembled their pets. In that case, the shoe was on the other foot, compared to how the Venlil exchange had fared.

“I have an idea for how to start the exchange program,” I murmured. “Jaslips. Spill the beans. If you want to do it in the privacy of the ship, fine, but I want the damn truth. It’s not easy to trust you.”

Gress drummed his claws on the table. “Exchange program? Officializing it, just like that. Does that mean that we’re partners, Taylor?”

“You’d want to be?!”

“As a matter of fact, I was going to request to be paired with you, if you joined.”

“I…see.” I wasn’t sure why the fuck Gress wanted anything to do with me, but he wasn’t nearly as punchable as I thought he was, before the mask reveal. There was a lot more warmth and affability from this Krev father than I anticipated. “Fuck it. Why not? But your Jaslip story better not make us all hate your guts.”

“It wasn’t my decision. It happened before I was born. I don’t hate you for things humans did before you were born.”

“But you said it was the right decision. You agree with it, Gress.”

“Perhaps we should take this elsewhere?” Hathaway prompted.

The Krev raised a paw. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind if others overhear. If you’re ever to trust us, Taylor’s right; you need to hear our full history. So I’ll try to give you the rundown. Ah, so the Consortium was born a hundred years ago, made of our spacefaring allies. It was born…because we found the Federation.”

Gress tapped at a small projection device, casting a 3D representation of a white-furred quadruped; there were a number of things that stood out, beyond the triangular ears and bushy coat. These beings had forward-facing eyes—if these were the Jaslips, there were other sapients with binocular vision—not just us and the Arxur. I began to get a picture about why our Krev guest mentioned that these people needed to be hidden at all; their diet likely wasn’t adjacent to the Federation’s specifications. On Earth, these creatures had the form of something that hunted. My eyes did zero in on a trait that was truly alien; the Jaslip’s tail seemed to split into three fluffy fronds at its base.

Multiple tails? That’s a new one. I won’t disrupt his story, but I sure hope he gets to what the hell that’s about.

“These are the Jaslips. I imagine the image is insightful. While you and I find it noteworthy that they have split tails—meant for carrying their pups like a basket—the Federation would be more interested in their eyes. In the fact they’re carnivorous,” Gress explained.

Hathaway tilted his head. “Like the Arxur?”

“Nothing like those psychopaths! Good luck convincing the Federation of that, though. The Krev Consortium saw the threat posed to…any species their mindset touched, and you know that it was our job to stop them from finding us. To at least…buy a few generations of time. It was obvious the Jaslips were under the greatest threat of extermination, of all of our allies.”

“Because they’re predators,” I hissed.

“Well, yes, but it was beyond that. Avor is seven days’ travel from Sivkit space…the edge of Federation territory. We have hundreds of light-years between us and them. The Jaslips weren’t just suspect to them at a glance, but they also were the closest of any Consortium species. A day’s travel from Sivkit space. We saw it as a matter of time before they were found. An eventuality.”

Cherise narrowed her eyes. “The Federation didn’t find any other predators. What did you mean by stopping them, Gress?”

“Please, dear God, tell me you didn’t kill them,” I groaned. “Wouldn’t make me feel rosy about whether we’d be sacrificed, for the ‘greater good.’”

The Krev looked offended. “Our job is to protect people from the Federation, not to finish their work! We could never wipe out an entire race; that’s part of why we spared you, beyond fears of starting a war. We simply coordinated with the Jaslip government to move their population off-world. You see, their homeworld, Esquo, was absolutely frigid. We could offer them settlements on Avor’s poles, as well as other Consortium worlds. The Jaslips agreed with our plan: offloaded civilians, billions of them! The Great Relocation was a process we spent thirty years on.”

“That can’t be all you meant by a necessary evil. Getting them out of dodge from the Federation; that was the right thing to do.”

“Of course it was, Taylor. The…controversy of it all was the fact that there were Jaslips who refused to abandon Esquo, during the mandatory evacuation. Our plan was to make it look as though the planet had died via nuclear war; to wipe it of all traces of life, so they wouldn’t come looking. The Jaslip government wouldn’t sign off while there were still civilians on-world. The Reskets sent soldiers in, on our behalf, to round up the Jaslip stragglers. Got some of them, but others fought back. It was a damn clusterfuck.”

Cherise’s eyes darted back and forth, arriving at the same conclusion as me. “You tried to forcibly relocate the Jaslips, and failed. But I get the distinct impression that didn’t stop you?”

“It didn’t. You have to understand, it wasn’t just them. The Jaslips could’ve led them straight to all of us. Every year that Esquo stayed inhabited, it was at risk of being found; you humans saw the consequences of being discovered. Hindsight is easy, to know the Federation wouldn’t have expanded. Tell me, if you could’ve left Earth and stopped them from finding humanity, wouldn’t you have made any sacrifice?”

“I would,” Hathaway replied, in a measured voice. “Knowing what happened to our true home, I was willing to make any sacrifice to avoid getting into a war with the Krev.”

“You know what it’s like to have the fate of your entire species at the back of your mind. That’s not an easy burden, and I doubt it was an easy decision. The Krev just couldn’t wait any longer; time was up. We made the decision to pull the trigger, so the buffer between us and the Federation would be established.”

A pit formed in my stomach, thinking about yet another homeworld glassed to smithereens. “If you tried to evacuate all of the civilians off-world, and the majority agreed with your plan, I understand choosing the Consortium’s survival. It’s a shitty situation. I do wonder how the Jaslips reacted.”

“Not well; they’re still bitter over what we did, and it was thirty years ago. A little before your arrival. The true controversy…the Jaslips hibernate during the winter, when the temperatures drop to a certain point. Their farms can’t operate under such extreme conditions. We waited until their government on Avor was in hibernation, during its brief overlap with Esquo’s hibernation season. We…bombed their world to oblivion only then, while they weren’t there to protest or resist. The Jaslips woke up to find the planet gone, and everyone who remained on it dead.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat run dry. Forcibly ripping people from their homes was reprehensible enough, regardless of whether the Jaslip government had gone along with it; the ethics were dubious, though I could understand the Federation threat taking precedence. The story had taken a further decline, with the Krev failing to remove the remnants, and deciding to bury Esquo like the Krakotl did to Earth—with people still on it. The brute calculation of the Consortium was something I could understand: billions of lives, and multiple civilizations, against a few holdouts. Letting the Federation find the Jaslips wasn’t an option. Gress’ people were trying to prevent a tragedy on the scale of our own.

If that was what it had taken to save humanity, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. It’s the cowardice—the scumminess of that move that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

I threw up my hands in disbelief. “You waited until the Jaslips all were asleep and powerless, to glass their planet without their permission? Am I getting this straight?”

“You are, Taylor. It was a shitty thing to do, I know. I feel sorry for them, but the Jaslips have set up new lives on the poles of other worlds,” Gress answered in a despondent voice. “Maybe their species still exists because of our choice. Maybe we could’ve given them a few more years to evacuate. Maybe we didn’t have to do it at all. I believe it was a necessary evil, but I agree it was evil. Deaths have never been our aim.”

“But you would sacrifice us, to save your Consortium’s hide? Are you worried about the risk of the Federation finding us?”

“I’m worried about the risk of the Federation finding any of us. You have my word that the Krev will protect you, whatever comes knocking. All we ask is that you help us ensure our collective safety…and that you can forgive the blood on our claws. Please.”

Mayor Hathaway’s giving me a look that says to play nice. We need the Krev’s help, and whatever I think about their handling of the Jaslip shit, it was thirty years ago. It’s better that we know.

I forced a smile. “Let’s head for Avor, Gress. It couldn’t have been easy to admit your species’ lowest moments, but I appreciate the trust. I suppose I should return the favor a little. You can tell us about the other species on the way over. We wouldn’t want to risk missing your daughter’s recital.”

“Oh, it’s only two hours to Avor. That’s why we had to have our warships intercept you; you’re too close, even with a signal dampening field!” Gress’ eyes brightened, as if he’d thought of something. “Lecca is going to love you. She has an obor backpack, you know; Juvre’s her obor, much as mine. I’ll have to properly introduce you to Juvre on the ride over.”

“Goodie. Lucky me.”

Cherise snorted. “Don’t tell me you still hold a grudge against that obor.”

“No. It’s not like I’m worried about getting my face taken off or anything.”

Gress raised a single claw. “Juvre will be on his best behavior, and so will you. Let’s head to the ship…friends. To my amazement, I hope to be back here soon.”

I arched my eyebrows, acknowledging my own shock at how this visit had played out. We’d shown our faces to the Krev, who we believed were here to exploit our misfortune, and found that we shared a common enemy in space. It was strange to think that I’d wound up verbally committed to an alien exchange program, and that I’d been volunteered to represent all of humanity: this time, with a tangible chance of securing a future in the stars. With any luck, my diplomacy would play out to a fairer audience than Noah Williams’ pleas had. I also hoped that the Jaslips were the worst skeleton in the Krev’s closet; their history couldn’t all be Machiavellian.

I shouldered my bag, loping after Gress, and bidding farewell to the only home that I could remember.

A/N - Chapter 15! Taylor is eager to get away from Tellus, as he struggles with guilt over the drill accident, and he finds Gress in the bar, chatting about the Venlil exchange; the Krev proposes an exchange program of their own, and already has his partner in mind. We learn a bit more about the Consortium's origins, only a century ago, and catch a glimpse of the binocular-eyed Jaslips. Esquo was the closest to the Federation, and relocation agreed to by the government was stalled for decades; so the Krev lost patience, bombing the stragglers during hibernation.

What do you think of the Krev's decision with the Jaslips? Do you imagine there's still tensions today due to their actions?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!