The Nature of Predators - Cilany's Adventures (1/7)

Memory transcription subject: Cilany, Harchen Reporter

Date [standardized human time]: November 29, 2136

The human sitting across the table from me was most certainly doing two things: diverting me from anything that the United Nations didn’t want to be seen, while at the same time, pandering to the volatile members of his people. The guards keeping tabs on me weren’t just there to make my arrangements easy. It was to obfuscate the predatory elements of Earth from my view. Why did my commitment to truth’s disclosure compel me to seek out the darkest niches?

I was petrified of those exact uncivilized qualities, when I accepted their offer of amnesty and citizenship. Aafa’s interview and the subsequent events had been an adrenaline-fueled push for the truth. The escape from the Blissful Modernity colony was a hellish scramble for survival, in which the humans came to our aid. Sovlin, in the galaxy’s most miraculous turnaround, professed trust in the predators; he risked all of our lives for them. To think the Gojids were omnivores, and based upon our nature-based rituals, the Harchen likely were too. It was the logical conclusion, though not a certainty.

Every omnivorous species is a victim, who has been manipulated and lied to by forces beyond them. The humans are the latest in this list, who just happen to be a tad bit scarier than the others.

Regardless, the moments alone on Sovlin’s shuttle, with two beasts who had stalked him through space, were terrifying. Despite the constant twinge in my chest, I was certain to conceal fear or weakness; taking charge was what commanded respect. I was good at poking around where people didn’t want me to. In the stories they shared about Earth, I saw an authenticity of soulfulness. The thought that perhaps humans could be trusted took root.

I began to care about the entire truth, in predators that shouldn’t get a second glance. That was why I dared to look past the comfortable lies of Earth. It was because I took their side of the story seriously, that I’d uncovered what was needed to confront Nikonus. The galaxy was changed due to my story, but I hadn’t had time to mourn my colleagues’ deaths on the Blissful Modernity. Terrans didn’t want to see my grief for Harchen worlds, after we launched an all-out raid on theirs.

“I propose a toast.” Zhao raised a glass of a fermented red drink, a smile stretching across his weathered features. He was less abrasive when the cameras were off, lending credence to my theory that it was an act. “It’s an old Earth custom, to raise a glass of alcohol to good health in the company of friends.”

My toes picked up my own drink. “To good health. We are both lucky to be alive.”

“Yes. The things that mattered so much, six months ago, suddenly don’t mean a thing. I was someone who was devoted to his country, yet now, I start my thoughts with protecting Earth as a whole. A billion dead. My home ravaged. It puts it all in perspective.”

Secretary-General Zhao downed a hearty sip of his wine, and I followed suit. He blinked forcefully, perhaps realizing that he was too candid in his emotions. My own sorrow for the Harchen society I had lost, whether to an Arxur raid or human conquest, threatened to spill over. That treachery could not win out. I studied the predator with renewed interest, searching his expression for anything suspicious.

“Do you really think that one hundred human lives are worth more than one hundred million aliens?” I asked.

Zhao narrowed his eyes. “It’s not like there’s an official ledger for trading lives. The UN Secretary-General, in the post-first contact world, is paid to make that call; to put human interests above all others. Meier died because he lost sight of Earth’s internal temperature.”

“Humanity First. The predator stampede.”

“A premeditated ‘stampede.’ In times of trouble, morality is the first thing to go. I take no joy in watching worlds burn, but these aliens cast off the protections we were willing to afford them. So yes, my first, my second, my tenth worry is the blameless citizens of Earth. Which now includes you.”

“Just me. No other aliens?”

“It includes anyone who will pledge allegiance to us. I factor the Venlil, the Zurulians, and the Yotul into my agenda too. They stood with us, we stand with them.”

“You have more allies than just those three. What about the other races who side with you?”

“We’ve protected and helped them diligently. I never wavered, sending aid to Khoa; the Mazic government seems intent to pay us back now. It worked out. Still, humanity has a long memory, and we remember the score from Earth. The ones who were there for us take precedence, because they were loyal at our weakest moment. They showed up because they cared about us…about our people.”

“None of the Federation races knew the truth about omnivores. I think that we’re all victims. They deserve a second chance to support you.”

“Our door is open to all who haven’t attacked us. Even then…individuals like you were allowed to switch sides.”

“I’m not on your side. I’m on the side of truth.”

“If you’re on the side of truth, you’re on my side, Cilany. Whether you meant to or not, exposing the Kolshians was the greatest service to Earth you could’ve done. You vindicated us. Everyone saw Nikonus for the charlatan he is. Knowing that there’s people like you on those worlds did factor into my decision to accept the surrenders of Fahl and Sillis.”

“I…am grateful you spared the Harchen. That is what I am, as I’m sure all the staring humans around us know.”

Between Zhao’s status as the leader of Earth, the hefty security that tailed him around, and me being the only alien in this Zurulian-Italian fusion restaurant, binocular eyes leered at us from every table. I had no idea how anyone got used to that; the Secretary-General pupils lined directly at me too. It had a way of making me feel cornered in the booth. If the humans wanted me dead, of course, I was at their mercy on their world. I knew that.

Do not let them see that you fear them. They would hate you if they realized.

“They’re staring because you’re an alien. Half of them don’t know what a Harchen is specifically.” Zhao shook his head, an amused smirk on his face. “Even UN personnel can hardly keep up with 300 species names. I have to brief myself on specific regions of space and objectives for each mission. How do you remember them all?”

I snorted. “How do you remember all the tribes on your world? All based on nonsensical, imaginary lines.”

“Fair point. I suppose I’ve been exposed to them for my whole life. I’m immersed in it for my career, and the welfare of my home nation.”

“Exactly. It’s the same for Federation diplomats, or anyone who works in an interstellar field. Besides, as a galactic citizen, you’ve probably run into someone of each species at home, except for the ones who are functionally extinct.”

“I know all too well the gravity of knowing that your species is facing its final days. If the war ever dissipates, maybe humanity could help with genetic revival projects, Cilany. We’ve been trying to bring some animals back, here on Earth.”

“Why? Because you hunted them to extinction?”

“Some, yes. In most cases, our development drove them extinct inadvertently. Humans…have come to see ourselves as stewards of nature. We regret our impact on the animal kingdom. Anyhow, this shameful topic must be pushed to another time; I believe I see our food coming. Lamenting our mistakes doesn’t make for an enjoyable meal, does it?”

A human waitress walked over, balancing a large tray in a way that stirred some apprehension. She looked very nervous, and had been on the verge of hyperventilation when she took our orders. I had realized that she’d never seen a Harchen before; Terrans seemed more comfortable around mammalian races, in general. I hadn’t forgotten how Carlos’ face contorted, when the Tilfish ambassador ran up to him. An observer would’ve thought I brought a frothing Arxur to the meeting.

“Fettuccine with Colia Blue sauce for the lady.” The waitress set an oval plate in front of me, with enough food to feed an Arxur; it was insane what a predator portion entailed. The blue jolnberry sauce was placed atop the noodles, with a Terran and Zurulian vegetable medley included. “And torlip parmesan with marinated gretroot for Mr. Zhao.”

The unfamiliar human backed away with haste, as if she couldn’t wait to vacate the vicinity. I shifted on the pillow, which propped me up to table height on the human-designed booths. My gaze studied Zhao, watching how he handled his alien silverware. It felt strange to see a predator wielding a knife, demonstrating an ability to cut tough objects. Clearly, Terrans knew techniques to saw through bone and sinew.

Another nagging thought wouldn’t leave my mind, despite how I willed it to be gone. Where were the signs of the internal temperature rising on Earth, as Zhao claimed he’d read? While the predator government claimed to be transparent, and were surpassing the Kolshians in that category, I knew they were sanitizing their society. The fact that the Secretary-General hadn’t ordered meat, and that they’d given me a menu that conveniently had the animal items removed, proved that much.

“Why didn’t you order a dish with meat?” I prodded.

Zhao chewed a modest bite. “It’s my job to be respectful of other cultures now. I thought ordering a dish with cheese, even if it’s a mere byproduct, was pushing your sensitivities enough.”

I squinted at the white dusting on Zhao’s torlip, and opted not to ask which animal byproduct it was. The human leader had ordered something on the slope toward flesh, but I hadn’t even noticed. Turning my gaze to my own pasta, it took a few seconds to regain my composure. If I was living on Earth, and also wanted to uncover the deepest predator roots of humanity, their meals were the first thing I needed to grow accustomed to. With a shaky breath, I twirled a mouthful of this Zurulian-Italian pasta.

The sweetness of the berries sang to my taste buds, enriched by the smooth noodles. Zhao’s “cheese” forgotten, I dove into the dish with enthusiasm. Bite after bite tumbled into my waiting gullet. The predators could drum up incredible dishes, despite the more sordid side of their appetite. A dark side of me wondered whether the flesh meals tasted even better; that intrusive thought nearly made me retch. My throat felt very hot, and I dropped the fork in discomfort.

“To think we all could’ve been sharing a table, and bringing guests from across the galaxy to our home. Meier might’ve been singular in his desire for friendship, but even I sometimes wonder what could’ve been. I don’t blame the man for wanting something…better,” the Secretary-General mused.

I felt my eyes watering, straining to utter words. “Could’ve…been friends.”

My toes reached for my windpipe, and the breath I sucked in was painfully shallow. Lightheadedness set in, as if my blood pressure had suddenly dropped. Zhao’s head snapped up with concern; the predator leader moved over to my side of the table in an instant. His eyes darted around, searching for a glass of water. My airway was becoming ever tighter, and the human’s expression flashed with open alarm.

“Medic!” Zhao barked. “Her skin is changing colors.”

I collapsed onto the booth, and the Secretary-General awkwardly moved me to the ground. His security rushed to my side; in my faint awareness, the sight of predators looming over me heightened my primal fear. I couldn’t breathe or move, except for an overwhelming feeling of nausea. A massive human guard pulled an object from his jacket. With hurried motions, the Terran plunged a round cylinder into my thigh. The feeling of a needle piercing my skin made me wince, before a bolt of energy made me jerk upright.

The tension in my airway lifted, and the fading awareness was replaced by a rush of feelings. My heart pounded, as every muscle in my body launched into flight instincts. The human guard restrained me, trying to work me down from the adrenaline rush. I wheezed in his arms, regaining my senses in slow fashion. The surrounding world was a blur, but I realized every Terran dining here was gawking at me. Some observers were phoning for emergency medical services, and other guards were ensuring that Zhao was alright.

Did the restaurant poison me? One second I was fine; the next, the world was crashing down on me.

One predator fitted an oxygen mask over my face. The security must have qualified medical staff among them, in case anything happened to the UN leader. Secretary-General Zhao was brimming with concern, shouting my name. I could feel the strong humans lift me, and carried me out to a car. Was I going to a hospital? Did Earth have hospitals, for people who got that sick? Those were things I should’ve known before I got here.

The idea for my next story took hold in my half-conscious brain; my journalistic contributions had to be more than a thinly-veiled attempt to humiliate Kalsim. The profile I’d done on humanity was a fluff piece, not a story worthy of a true reporter. It highlighted their depth and flattering complexities, because all galactic reporting was slanted against them. Now, someone needed the courage to sniff out the darkest corners of Earth, which no herbivore had ever seen in its entirety.

A car door slammed shut close to my head, and Secretary-General Zhao crouched on the floorboards beside me. The vehicle blazed off to whisk me to a predator hospital.

Next 

A/N - New series, as picked in a landslide by you! Cilany dines with Zhao at the Zurulian-Italian fusion restaurant, where they were planning to go back in 81. The Secretary-General explains his viewpoints away from the cameras, while our Harchen reporter internally laments her guilt over her species' actions. However, dinner is cut short by an anaphylactic episode.

What caused Cilany to have such a reaction? Will she recover, and follow through on her delirious plan to investigate Earth?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!