The Nature of Predators - Becoming a Predator (10/10)

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Memory transcription subject: Narlem, Krakotl Exterminator Fleet Comms Technician

Date [standardized human time]: October 17, 2136

An electric jolt passed down my spinal cord, causing my eyes to blink open in a fog of uncertainty. My body felt light enough to float into the clouds, as though my bones had returned to their hollow state. My field of vision had expanded to encompass its proper range, assessing the full scope of my surroundings; it looked faded after the sharpness of a human gaze, but this was the bridge of my warship. I could see Krakotl crew members transfixed by the viewport, which caused my beak to part with hope. I glanced down in tentative disbelief, and saw the puffy cerulean feathers of Narlem’s form.

I hopped from one stubby leg to the other, though it felt alien how they didn’t bend. My wingtips seemed much less disjointed than human fingers, though I would miss how dexterous and nimble those were; gripping objects had been perfect as a predator. It would take a spell of readjustment to acclimate to a weaker, smaller, and less demanding body again. It wasn’t clear to me how I’d come to, back on the bridge rather than in my quarters’ bed. Had it been my death that returned me to my proper state of being? When had I been transported to, and what was happening right now? I felt out of it, but hoped I wouldn’t act oddly enough to draw attention.

My heart clenched as I thought about Houston, flattened to rubble and charcoal. The last thing I remembered was cradling Caleb’s dead skull, and begging him in futile cries to wake up; I could remember how it had felt to choke on my own blood, and slowly suffocate beneath the rubble. Was that what my brother’s last moments were like—unable to breathe, before the shifting rubble crushed him and snuffed out his life force? Even thinking about the predator with my Krakotl mind, I felt pity rather than fear. My eyes watered, as I began to connect the dots about what was ongoing now; the crew was transfixed by the viewport because we were on the approach vector to Earth. The last thing I wanted was to watch from our perch here again, as millions of humans were slaughtered.

Bright images popped onto the screen in front of me, making me startle. “Is this call a negotiation offer? We’d be willing to surrender, I’m sure. I’ll do whatever I can to facilitate a deal that doesn’t mean…this. I know you hate us, but you have to see we’re not like the Arxur! That’s why you’re reaching out, right? Um…hey, no offense, but you kind of look like you butt-dialed me.”

This is right after I extended that hail to the disabled Terran craft. What could I possibly say to him, except how sorry I am?

My guilt-ridden gaze focused on Gavin McLean. This time, I didn’t feel the flood of nerves I’d expect from looking at a predator. The level of exposure I had on Earth must’ve cured me of that instinctual reaction; that bunker had been packed with thousands of them, and I’d had to deal with Caleb staring at me every time we talked. Despite their insufferable appearance, these people possessed the full range of emotions that lent itself to civilization and morality. The human pilot’s binocular eyes were red and puffy, with salty tears still pouring over. I knew he was just as frightened for his children as Vinny had been in the bunker, and how grief-stricken he would be from the enormity of the loss that had crippled my body after my brother’s death. How could I have looked at him and mocked him, upping his emotional torment for my pleasure?

“I’m so sorry, Gavin. You’re not the Arxur, and you don’t deserve this. I know you just want to see your boy and your two little girls again. I know how you feel, trying to save someone and coming up short.” My trilling voice felt light and airy, without harsh reverberations building up within vocal cords. It didn’t sound like my voice after all this time, but the tears falling down my cheeks felt like my own. “You were right about everything. Humans aren’t what they say; you’re capable of love, empathy, and restraint. I understand that you’d do anything to stop my people from killing your children and your wife…who must also love kids, if she’s a pediatric doctor.”

“Um…how do you know me?!”

“This is going to sound crazy, but I wronged you in a different timeline…this isn’t my first time here. I wanted to make you sit with the death of your kind, without any sense of remorse or feeling for how cruel that was. Since then, I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about Earth, from what Texan chili is to coffee shops to the absolutely cursed things about the Venlil on your internet. I’ve seen what you think of animal cruelty and child soldiers, the speckled pelts of your military, and how the main instinct you have toward prey animals is to feel their fur against your palm? I’ve even become a shipper of David Bentley Jr. and Tessa Martinez.”

“From Red Dust, Red Fire?!”

“Yeah. I wish I could stop this from happening all over again…but I’m just one person, and there’s a whole fleet here. If I could convince them you’re not mindless predators, and save your people from being slaughtered…no, I know I’m the only one who sees it. There’s good in you, Gavin McLean. Now, I’m sure you don’t believe you imposed a curse that…made me very familiar with humans, but I feel so much regret for what I’ve done. I hope you see your kids again.”

The predator sucked snot up into his nose, a taut smile on his face. “That’s…you’ve met the right human to believe in karma. It helps that I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu, so I can believe we had a very different conversation before. But you were given a second chance, and not everyone gets that. It doesn’t matter that you’re one person. Everything happens for a reason.”

I rubbed my beak, trying to fathom what difference I could possibly make. There were a few minutes at most before Houston was wiped off Earth’s face again; the weapons station was awaiting Captain Struella’s orders to fire, once we attained orbital range. There was nothing I could do to halt the fleet as a whole’s progress, but it might be possible to prevent our bomb from striking this single city. That was millions of lives that I could save: Caleb, who I knew in my gut was real, could be spared. However, I doubted that I could talk the bridge crew into standing down by telling them I was turned into a human by a curse, and that they really weren’t that bloodthirsty.

The way the human police laughed and threatened to send me to a predator disease facility is probably the reaction I could expect from my comrades. Even my father’s influence wouldn’t save me; if anything, he’d be disgusted and order me sent off himself.

The only option that would save the Houston metropolis, at least from our vessel, would be to take over the station from a weapons’ tech, and try to fire the weaponry at a different, uninhabited target. I racked my brain, before recalling that Luna was largely a cratered, unsettled territory…and that the stations there had already been taken out as Kalsim steered us past their nuclear ambush. Knowledge of how to control our weaponry was within my grasp; it was what they trained me on when I first enlisted. My failure to act under pressure had disappointed the old man, but it would sure be ironic if the moment I broke that trend was to save a region crawling with alien predators.

The second I attacked a crewmate, my life and my career were likely over. I’d be an embarrassment to the family name, especially if I sabotaged a mission the captain saw as “the greatest triumph in Krakotl history.” She wasn’t alone in that view, seeing this slaughter as the proudest moment of our careers. My father would disown me and likely never speak to me again, for the rest of my life. There was no telling whether I’d be confined to a prison or a nightmare facility; I supposed what had changed about me was predator disease, since it was caused by my tenure as a human.

The thought of being locked up and disowned should’ve scared me more. However, I could still feel the torrent of despair, as I held the exterminated Caleb in my furless arms. It should’ve been me, not him, and I had a chance to correct that flaw in the ledger.

Besides, even if it weren’t someone who was dear to me, there were millions of lives at stake. My personal wants paled in comparison to stopping the genocide of innocents. This was the only way I could earn the forgiveness that Caleb had so freely given me, and atone for my torment of Gavin in a separate timeline. The guilt would plague me for the rest of my life if I didn’t interfere; I had languished in the bunker, wishing for a chance to save those beasts and atone for my past sadism. No matter what any other Krakotl would think of me, this option was a more commendable display of “heroism” than celebrating a species’ death. I’d have to hope that one day, my father would understand why I’d betrayed Nishtal and the safety of her people.

“I have an idea, but I can’t promise it’ll work. You better hope your species somehow manages to turn the tables, because what I’m about to do might just delay the inevitable. All I might be able to stall is Houston’s death, not whatever city your family is in.” My lighter Krakotl bones felt heavy with the gargantuan task that was on my shoulders; I didn’t want to be cruel by giving Gavin false hope. Would the predator understand my disclaimer? “By the way, if I saw you on the sensor readout, others can too. It won’t guarantee anything, but if your computer still works, I’d kill power to any system that’s not life support—Maltos, maybe kill that if you have an O2 suit. Truly, I hope you get back to your kids.”

Gavin’s tears intensified, though they seemed less despondent. “As fate would have it, um, my family is in Houston. That’s why I’m guarding this vector. When my weapons and my engines went offline, I was so angry…couldn’t even sacrifice myself with some suicidal flying. I punched the console so hard I broke my hand, and I screamed at the universe. I wasn’t sure what to think when you hailed me, but I guess you’re the universe screaming back. Thank you. You’re the answer to my prayers.”

“I don’t know about that. But I’ll do everything in my power to save them. And, er, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but since you’re from Houston…I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything! I don’t care what you’ve done; you try and save my family, I’ll do anything in my power to fulfill what you ask. I’ll become a fucking lifelong vegan if that’s what it takes.“

“It’s…if you make it back to Earth, can you send a message to Officer Caleb Boyd with the Houston Police Department? Tell him…tell him that his brother Nathan loves him, and is sorry for his mistakes. And that Nate wants him to be happy.”

The predator tilted his head. “Caleb Boyd, at the PD. ‘Nathan sends his love and apologies, turn the frown upside-down.’ Got it. Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Gavin. That means the universe to me. I can’t waste any time, so I’m going to…do what I can to stop this. Inatala’s blessings upon you.”

Though I was tempted to allow the human to watch, so he could be apprised of whatever happened, my wingtip swiped to disconnect the hail. Anyone who noticed the open feed would be tipped off to Gavin’s presence, assume he was responsible for my sudden plotting, and seek to obliterate his defenseless ship. Doubts did linger in my mind, such as what the Terrans would do to Nishtal if they lived, and whether the swap all could have been Maltos-abetted predator deception. However, I was certain that Caleb’s persona wasn’t the conjuration of the god of bloodlust. There was definitely some cosmic power involved, but I wasn’t convinced it was either of the two Krakotl deities.

Perhaps the predator disease has addled my faculties, but it’s more like an invisible force pointing toward justice. Too much order in the interconnectedness to be the design of Maltos: an energy that is one and the same as the universe, as Gavin said?

Whatever it was, and whatever its reasons were, the outcome it arranged was my intervention in the bombing of Houston. That aligned with my current desires, but I had to hurry if I wanted to act before weapons received their orders; we were on the precipice of orbital range. I wished getting other Krakotl to listen was an option, though I hoped their review of that recorded chat would give someone pause. My conversation with Gavin had been much more polite this time, now that I recognized his emotional capacity and resulting motives. How I ever wrote off his concern for his children as predatory was beyond me.

Despite his present distress and circumstances, the Terran had thanked me for doing the right thing. I shouldn’t have asked a favor of Gavin, except that I thought that it would be good for my…my human form’s brother. Part of me wondered what Caleb would think after obtaining my message, especially if Nathan’s self-termination plans had succeeded in actuality. Any attempts to contact the officer and explain that I’d been his brother would likely be laughed at, just as he’d disbelieved Nathan claiming to be Narlem. I tried to shake off the awkwardness of my returned body, and hopped toward weapons on legs that felt too short and inflexible. There was no time to train my brain back to its intuitive knowledge.

“Hey, Verulo?” I called to the first of three weapon techs, before gesturing my head to the comms station. “Important call for you from Kalsim’s command ship. They’ve discovered a weakness in the predator ships, and I think you’re the right person to hear the specifics.”

Verulo’s beak parted with confusion. “What’s wrong with you, Narlem? You’re walking like you’re constipated.”

“Uh, opposite problem. You don’t want to know. Just go take the call, okay? You should probably take Juara with you; wouldn’t want to mishear any detail that can be used against the flesh-eaters. I’m sure Lassim will be fine finishing off those vermin.”

“Sapient or not, it’s just as easy as any other extermination job. Antimatter drops, predators die. Shot’s already lined up too. If Lassim couldn’t press the button, I don’t know what his excuse is. Let’s go, Juara.”

The two Krakotl strolled off toward the comms station, and I hoped it would give me at least thirty seconds before they realized the call was pure fiction. That left only Lassim hunched over the button, a delighted gleam in his eyes. His wing was hovering over the screen, so there would be no delay once Captain Struella gave the go-ahead. I tried to stomach my nerves, as I’d never dreamed I would physically harm another person. My grip locked around an emergency procedures manual, before I swung the thick book at the back of the technician’s skull.

Lassim went down with a pained squawk, struggling to regain his bearings. Several crew members trained their attention on the station, as I righted myself over the station. Surprise overtook many expressions as they saw me going rogue and attacking one of our own. I wished I still had binocular vision right now, because it was wonderful for reading and focusing on narrow tasks. It also would’ve hidden the aghast looks on my comrades’ faces. After getting used to forward-facing eyes, the expansive periphery now sent an overwhelming amount of stimuli to my brain. How did I ever filter that much input?

“What the fuck was that, Narlem?” Lassim sputtered.

I thought of Caleb and Gavin, and how much humanity as a whole didn’t deserve this; if I shut down now, every person that I’d encountered during my stint on Earth would be dead. I managed to channel my focus enough to read the icons, pouring every ounce of concentration I had into the task. My wings hurried through the swiping motions, canceling the target lock on Houston. I rushed to the directional assist, tracing a sloppy vector toward Luna. Flapping wings sounded behind me, as several crew members rushed to take me down. There was no time for the ship’s computer to run calculated math functions to target lock a specific point; manual guidance was the only way.

I moved my limb toward the fire button, but a sudden force wrapped around my throat and tugged me backward. I fluttered my wings to avoid toppling over, and flailed my talons across soft flesh. Lassim had gotten back to his feet, and despite dripping violet blood from his cranium, the Krakotl hadn’t stayed down. Juara and Verulo returned to the station, restraining me by both wings. Seeing that I was subdued, the other crew members stayed put and waited for Captain Struella to issue orders. A desperate squawk escaped my beak, while I poured all of my power trying to break free.

No! I’m too close: one button push, and Houston is spared from our bombing reach. I need to get free, somehow.

Thinking of how heavy Caleb’s lifeless skull had been, it gave me a last-ditch idea. I allowed my muscles to go limp, casting the whole of my weight onto them suddenly; I also made sure I fell toward Lassim, since he was the weakest due to his head injury. The wounded technician failed to support me, and we both crashed to the ground. The other Krakotl lost their grip against gravity, but I knew I wouldn’t have time to get to my feet. Propelling myself toward the console with a wing, I reached up with the other. My appendage stretched as far as it could go, desperately trying to reach the fire button in the bottom right corner. A shrill shriek rippled from my throat, willing myself to extend my limb a little bit further.

“Must…save them!” I prodded myself. “Reach!”

Juara and Verulo yanked at my talons to drag me back from the screen. Just as their pull sent a terrible pain up my sensitive legs, the very tip of my wing grazed the console. A slight shudder passed through the floor, indicating that the fire command had registered. The viewport was facing Earth, so I couldn’t see where the missile went, but that was a positive. My immediate reaction was relief, despite what this stunt spelled for my fate. Gavin’s family and Caleb wouldn’t be killed—not by our ship, anyway. I had prevented our ship from participating in a great wrong the Krakotl were perpetrating against humanity.

What I had just done would never be forgiven by my people, since they held the understandable belief that these predators deserved death. An excessive amount of personnel rushed over to the station, making sure I couldn’t so much as twitch; there would be no more wrangling out of their grip. I fell into an obedient stance, with my singular goal completed. As the Krakotl military I’d once been proud to serve herded me off, I focused my pupils on the blue planet like I still had binocular eyes. Earth was teeming with predators that I couldn’t see from this height, and I hoped it stayed that way. If this was the last celestial body I ever saw out a ship viewport, it was a beautiful one.

The guilt which had burdened my heart ebbed away, and I turned my mind to quiet contemplation of the do-over I’d been given. This had been the right choice; I could feel it in my soul. After learning what it was to be human, there wouldn’t have been any going back to my old life regardless. Whatever happened next to Caleb and the other predators like him, I hoped that the universe would grant them a path to survival. Humanity deserved a chance to show the galaxy what they were made of.

A/N - The ending! After dying in his human form, Narlem returns to being a Krakotl, but is haunted by the memories of a bombed out Houston. He comes to just as Gavin McLean accepts his hail, and this time, Narlem recounts how sorry he is, attempts to help Gavin survive, and asks for a message to be passed along to Caleb. Our narrator then attacks his crewmates to redirect the antimatter weapons, and is able to dispose of it by throwing it off target...despite the great cost to himself.

Did Narlem learn the full lesson during his time on Earth as one of us? What do you think of his sacrifice...and what do you imagine comes next for him? This story doesn't bring into the picture that the extermination fleet gets jumped by the Arxur, or how Caleb might react to the mysterious message from Nathan.

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! The Sacrifice will be intense, so buckle up.