The Nature of Predators - Tilfish Occupation (One-Shot #5)

Memory transcription subject: General Birla, Tilfish Planetary Command

Date [standardized human time]: November 30, 2136

The truck bumped along the road, carting me to yet another human infestation. A young Tilfish had been commandeered to ferry me around; the government ensured my ease in traveling to the predators. Nobody else wanted to be surrounded by them, banking their lives on Terrans never losing control.

I placed a holopad in my graspers, and pulled up Noah’s speech. The footage of the red-haired Marcel, before and after the Federation, was as shocking as ever. The soldier I welcomed at the first of many landings was the same one. Humans all looked similar, but his scarring was unmistakable. I could still remember my nauseating chills, as I placed my leg on his fingers in greeting.

Being caged in the public transit, that very first time, as their death-driven instincts were tantalized by stampede sights—it was atrocious. Making up my mind about the predators was tough; their behavior was cold and unfriendly, for the most part. When I stood before one, my brain decided with certainty that I was going to be eaten. Thinking through that fear was like flying into a heavy headwind.

Deep down, I knew they were occupying my world because we attacked their Earth. It was merciful that they didn’t slaughter our civilians to even the score. Our planet could be a hunk of burning rubble now, given that our military defenses were confiscated during our surrender.

That fateful discussion to raid them played through my head often.

“There is no need to discuss it! The Krakotl are gathering an extermination fleet.” Ambassador Dwirl had clicked his mandibles, after stirring the gathered officers into a frenzy. “We can spare a few ships against such a menace. They are predators! No race that eats flesh can have true emotion.”

The irony rested in not knowing what was public fact today. We once used such vile practices to feed our kids.

Dwirl’s bombastic speech was fresh off footage of human wars; the subsequent vote was quick. Our generals were energized with disgust, after viewing barbarism on the Arxur’s level. Honestly, to this day, those images were seared into my mind. When I saw a human predator, I recalled the mutilated corpses and executioners from that montage.

But there was no proof, beyond speculation, that they would do the same things to us. The current evidence on Sillis suggested that humans had become less brutal, and mellowed out since their primitive years. However, all I knew at the time was what came in from Aafa. What won me over wasn’t the speech, that Venlil’s obvious love for Marcel, or the fact that 11 Federation species sought diplomacy.

I had seen the data dump Noah uploaded to the internet on my own time. One item caught my eye, more than any media or science could: actual footage of a human mother, struggling to lift a truck off her young. Desperate tears flowed at their reunion, after she pushed her body past its breaking point! To think that humans loved that strongly, that they could transcend their physiological limitations…

“Let’s take a vote. All in favor of supporting the mission, raise a leg.” Dwirl looked pleased as every general’s arm shot up, except for mine. Then, he noticed my lack of commitment, and the content expression faded. “Birla. Have you zoned out while I’m speaking?”

The one word I stuttered sealed my fate. “N-no.”

“Why? Is it cowardice?”

“N-no.”

The other voters fixed hostile looks on me, and I could feel my exoskeleton burning. After everything Dwirl just played on the room’s screen, it was clear these creatures were beyond vicious. Nobody could proclaim humanity’s innocence; they were dangerous, and their growth was unchecked. I wouldn’t feel safe leaving one around my son, and yet…

I clicked my mandibles with certainty. “This is wrong. W-we’re afraid of them, and that’s n-not enough.”

“Why isn’t it? They’re mere weeks from spreading across the galaxy irreversibly!” another general scoffed. “History will scorn those who do nothing.”

“They c-came in peace. They have empathy.”

“Fine. You’ll rue the day you proved yourself a fool.”

Those words had proved true, in some ways. Sometimes, I wished I’d gone along with the vote, and not been the odd woman out. If I hadn’t stood up for the Terrans, I wouldn’t be riding into their base of operations now. The Ambassador seemed to believe that since I didn’t want humans slaughtered, I deserved to be hurled into their midst.

It would’ve been easier to fit in. My single vote didn’t stop the extermination, or change anyone else’s mind. It was an empty act.

“We’re here, Birla. Try to make it quick; don’t forget your basket,” the driver muttered.

I disembarked into the latest UN camp on my checklist. My agenda was to determine whether they had the necessary supplies, and if they required anything of us. The Terrans were to know that they had the full cooperation of the Tilfish government. Our planet’s continued existence hinged on me making nice to these predators.

My legs shook, with the basket handle draped over my arm. I stumbled toward the UN checkpoint, greeted by guns lifted at me. Fluids were excreted from glands across the soldiers’ bodies; they were a head taller than me, looking down with spotlight eyes. Bony bumps jutted up from their hands, which contorted around the guns. Their canine-concealing lips were red from blood-filled capillaries.

Nothing matched with their appearance; everything was stark and unnatural. It went beyond being a predator. Humans looked so alien that it put the Venlil to shame on evolutionary uniqueness. It was a shame a Terran’s unique attributes enhanced their frightfulness, rather than lessening the hunting qualities.

“B-Birla. Tilfish g-government,” I coughed out.

“We were expecting you.” The masculine-sounding soldier spoke with such gusto, that I was surprised his barks meant anything. “We’ll need to look inside your basket.”

The Terran soldier advanced without waiting, and pulled the basket away. Every instinct told me the predator was relishing the living food that dared to enter his lair. The human muttered to his partner, pulling out a jar. He held it up high, and let the sunlight pierce through the goop.

“Jam?” the broad-shouldered beast asked. “Unless you guys make honey…shit, I just remembered what honey is. Tell me that’s not your puke.”

My antennae scrunched in revulsion. “W-why do you think I’d give you vomit? That’s a disgusting idea.”

“Yet it tastes good,” the soldier’s partner quipped.

“What else do we got here?” The massive one inspecting my bag pulled a folded, color-streaked paper from the basket. “The fuck is this?”

“…it’s f-from my s-son…sir. It’s s-stupid…don’t t-trouble yourself with it.”

“Kid, huh? Okay then. You can go in, but don’t enter anywhere you’re not invited.”

Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.

The Terran warrior passed Virnt’s note back to me, and the two predators left a gap for me to pass through. I shuffled between them, feeling like I’d be nailed from both sides. How did the Venlil ever grow accustomed to their unadulterated visage? Did the humans feel no revulsion when they looked in the mirror?

My son’s crayon smudges grounded me, and I drew the shakiest breaths of my life. It was all I could do not to bolt into the camp; I knew it wasn’t going to get better, in a human epicenter. I’d promised Virnt I’d shared his notes with the Terrans, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t bother the gate terrors.

A small voice encouraged me to try again; the kid would be crushed, if he learned I bailed out. It was possible to fib, and say the predators refused to answer…but that would throw predator-diseased Virnt into a fit. I had known about his condition for months, but I couldn’t institutionalize him.

Seeing him glued to the TV at home, giddy at the prospect of a predator invasion, I had wondered if I was making the right decision. What kind of child was transfixed with an instrument of death? I clutched my basket tighter, and wandered over to a picnic table. A Terran, with her hair tied upward like a tail, was reading her holopad.

I started unloading my jars of jam, hoping to finish my gifts soon. The human swiveled around, and her pupils locked on me. Her teeth flashed, as she swung her lanky legs toward me. Was she snarling at me to go away?

I dropped the entire basket on the table. “S-sorry! I just left s-some tributes…er, g-gifts. I’m B-Birla…”

“I’m Tori,” the human growled. “You’re really gonna leave all those wonderful preserves for me?”

“If y-you want them…I h-hope you’re not f-fighting with the other p-predators. I, uh, bought these f-from the local farms…”

“I’d love to learn more about what you eat and your adaptations. I was an entomology major, so let’s just say I was on the shortlist to go here. It’s so fascinating to me that you attained sapience; after all, your species must be ancient if it mirrors Earth. Do you breathe air through tracheoles, absorbing oxygen on a cellular level?”

“Um…yes, but we have lungs t-too. The t-tracheoles are a bit obsolete and redundant.”

“That’s awesome! And do you have ocelli? You know, light sensors on other parts of the body.”

I was dumbfounded by Tori’s enthusiasm, and why a predator would study insects at university (that was the translator’s explanation of entomology). Perhaps her intrigue existed to learn to hunt us better, since we were her favored type of prey? It could be similar to how Tilfish would grow certain berries that were seasonal to their locale and suited their tastes.

“Y-yeah. T-Three of them,” I decided to answer honestly. “They don’t see images…t-they detect movement from predators.”

Tori tilted her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bombard you with questions. It’s just, talking with a sapient insect is a dream! You’re so fascinating and unique.”

This wasn’t the standard reaction of humans. I had seen buff males fall backward screaming, perhaps some startlement provoked by my unexpected presence. It was piteous if the sudden uprising of their instincts was overwhelming, but why did it only exist with my species? Regardless, I would shriek and panic too if I lived with the urge to eat someone.

“You’re fine.” My eyes drifted back to Virnt’s paper, and I recalled him begging me to talk to the squishy hummas. The predator would be incensed that I wasted her time, but perhaps I had enough rapport to earn forgiveness. “M-my son wanted…ah, you s-see…”

Tori raised the patches of fur on her brow. “Go on. You have a son? Can you show me a picture?”

I fiddled with my holopad, nearly dropping it with my shaking legs. The human moved closer, which I could dreadfully sense through my ocelli. It made it so I could feel the predator closing in, and the flesh-eating maw hovering above my shoulder. A distressed whine came from my lungs, but I tried to swallow it in.

I handed the predator the device, and watched to see if she salivated or licked her lips. The picture was of Virnt pushing a model spaceship across the floor, his little eyes sparkling with mirth. Tori’s eyes crinkled, and an odd cooing noise came from her vocal cords. She started to return my holopad, which I held for a moment.

“My s-son wrote some q-questions to ask you. M-maybe I could r-record your answers?” I blurted.

I expected the human to say no, especially after her snarl widened up to her gumline. Instead, she bobbed her head up and down; it seemed like emphatic agreement. Her pupils jerked to the crayon drawing, and she seemed to infer that it was Virnt’s questionnaire.

Tori fiddled with her chest pelt. “Absolutely! Sorry about my bedhead.”

The predator looks like a disaster no matter what, and she thinks I’m worried about a messy mane?

“Okay. I l-limited Virnt to three questions. Question one.” I turned on the camera, and my exoskeleton almost melted with embarrassment. Why didn’t I read my son’s gibberish beforehand? “‘H-humma likes toys? You…n-not play much. You should try toys!’ I’m s-sorry, this is s-stupid—”

Tori trained her binocular eyes directly on the camera lens, staring down an observer. “I like toys, little guy! You just can’t play during work. I have a grown-up toy in my pocket…well, I don’t know if it’s really a toy. It’s called a stress ball, and I squeeze it really hard to help with situational anxiety.”

The predator fished a foam sphere out of her pocket, and demonstrated constricting it, akin to how she’d strangle prey. I gaped at her, as I processed what she said. Humans were capable of feeling anxiety?! How did palming some soft toy help at all with stress? I had some questions of my own, but I should be grateful that Tori humored my stupidity.

“T-thank you. I should go,” I croaked.

“You said there were three questions?” the human prompted.

“Uh…are you sure? They’re…all like that. Actually, it gets worse.”

“Please, go for it. It’s adorable. This is the highlight of my week!”

“If you say so. Question two.” My mandibles twitched with distress, and I considered requesting Tori’s stress ball. It was worth a shot. “‘D-do hummas know why moon not fall? Moon looks heavy. Hummas…are h-heavy, and hummas fall.’”

“Good question. Your moon is a satellite, which means it’s just into your planet’s gravity enough to circle it. But it’s too far away to get sucked in, and it keeps moving along a set path. Humans fall because we’re not nearly as heavy or as far as the moon.”

Remarkable patience. And she’s answering this garbage more seriously than I would. This is what Virnt chose to ask a predator?!

Tori clapped her hands. “Last question. Hit me.”

“Hit you? I would never s-strike you. I don’t want to f-fight you!”

“No, sorry, I mean hit me with the next question. Ask away.”

“R-right. He wrote…” Oh, come on Virnt. The things we do because we love our children. “‘Are hummas a type of tree? You’re tall, big, and round like trees, but not green. You should be more green and be a tree.’”

The predator doubled over with barking growls, which made me flinch. My translator informed me moments later that it was laughter. At least the entomologist was amused rather than angry; this had to be an unnecessary nuisance for a Terran soldier. Hearing any of these answers, even if she refused to lower herself to that query, would delight little Virnt.

“We’re not a tree, though I like the comparison. Trees are plants and they don’t move,” Tori answered. “If humans don’t move, that’s…ah, bad. Anyways, we’re much less vital to the ecosystem, and sadly, we can’t do photosynthesis.”

I switched off the camera’s recording function. “T-thank you. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll let you get back to serving up jams, but that’s a cute kid you got. I love his curiosity.”

Of course she likes it. She’s predator disease incarnate!

I forced a polite antenna flick. “Virnt is a special kid. I love him. It was n-nice to meet you, Tori.”

After putting my holopad away, I rushed to finish unloading my supply of jams and fruits. It was unlike my notion of a predator to be so skilled with children, though I suppose it went back to the human on Noah’s video. Terrans wouldn’t abandon their own kids, and seemed to understand our care for our family. Maybe they could be trusted around Virnt, though it wasn’t clear if Tori was a rare case.

I wished that I could be rid of my fear for a moment, and ponder the humans’ merit in earnest. Viciousness and hunger didn’t overtake them in every instance; for the most part, they had those instincts under wraps. But I had to figure out a way to quash Virnt’s interest in their kind, before he outed himself for predator disease. It wasn’t an acceptable curiosity, so I needed to convince him to drop it.

With any luck, this silly interview would make him bored of the new predators.

A/N - A surprise one-shot! Since most of the patrons wanted Onso's tale to go public, I wanted you all to have something exclusive.

Hoped you enjoyed seeing into Birla's head, including the moment she voted to spare us. Our general visited many human encampments, and stumbled across an entomologist in one. Birla even got the nerve to conduct Virnt's super-serious interview. What do you think of the little bug's three questions?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! Exterminators launches this coming Saturday, and will update Wed-Sat.