The Nature of Predators - Omnivore Miniseries (1/8)

Memory transcription subject: Wullara, Iftali Priesthood of the Consecrated Order

Date [standardized human time]: October 28, 2136

The alcove candles cast a warm glow throughout the chapel. Iftali followers gathered for the spring equinox; this seasonal holiday was preceded by a week of fasting. A few Suleans were present for the ritual, though most were there to support their friends. Our beliefs never achieved prevalence among them, despite consistent efforts to proselytize.

Our secular friends had reasons for their laissez-faire attitude. It was difficult to be a strict Order adherent, when even plants risked microbial contamination. Foods improperly handled or contaminated with non-purified water could add up. Root vegetables were forbidden as well, to prevent killing an entire plant. The negative auras of ending a life clung to the soul for years, and a heavy spirit halted reincarnation.

I clopped up to the altar, having my sermon memorized. “Hello, everyone. Today, we are here to banish hunger from our vocabulary. Appetite’s dangers are well-told through our scriptures, and something the Iftali have recognized for generations. We are blessed with fertility today that we did not enjoy in our past, which we must approach with caution.

Killing for one’s diet poisons the spirit. Any creature’s pain leaves an imprint, just as your touch leaves behind DNA. Do not think for a second that your soul is not in mortal jeopardy. Our mere existence incurs a debt to nature, and that bill can become too high with slight carelessness.”

The audience listened with dwindling attention, as they’d heard similar lectures before. I recalled enduring such lessons as a young girl, while boredom tugged at my mind. It wasn’t until I heard a television monk recounting judgment tales, that the danger struck home. My rose fur had shivered as he described what it was like to be trapped in a corpse for all eternity.

“Iftali souls are especially sensitive to auras. But we see the corrupting influence in nature as well. With recent events, I must deviate from my standard teachings. A dangerous path is open before us, and our alliance is not taking the threat as seriously as they should.”

Surprised murmurs rippled through the adherents, while the Sulean visitors looked uncomfortable. It was their government who hesitated to partake in Earth’s cleansing, and Iftali leaders wouldn’t attempt anything without them. Our cultures were too deeply intertwined to act alone. We needed to convince our sister species of the Terran threat, before they convinced our people to join a treacherous alliance.

Sulean neutrality normalizes predation. No one would ever legalize murder, which predators do by their nature.

“The newest temptations come from extinguished souls, called humans. Extinguished souls are so far fallen, that they are no longer classified as higher beings. That burden is passed to their offspring, since hunger has corrupted every molecule in their body. We see how far along the Arxur’s moral rot is. These humans’ moral decay is exponential; there is no hope or salvation for them.

A sapient predator would have a soul so heavy, that it cannot bear its own cesspool. The aura would infect anyone around them, like radiation. Merely associating with them or granting an audience puts us at risk of damnation. This is why talks of an ‘empathetic predator’ are heresy.”

My sermon circled back to ceremonial passages and meditative exercises. I needed my followers to understand the human menace; a predator’s depravity could not be understated. Whether anyone felt sorry for the Terrans or not, the scriptures were clear. Besides my one interlude, this was a normal ritual for most of its duration.

Abruptly, buzzes and ringtones began circulating through the congregation. The background noise disrupted my focus; I wondered if there was some kind of emergency. Several Iftali bolted up from their seats, fleeing the church. The Suleans were shooting fearful glances at the crowd, before shoving away from their friends.

The Iftali who lingered were scanning their holopads for further information. An agitated group surged the stage, demanding answers. The Order’s assistants tried to block the crowd, but quickly realized the masses were unreasonable. What on Jild sparked sudden pandemonium? I reached for my holopad, glimpsing a slew of silenced notifications.

We used to be predators? Are we damned? My outreach manager, Zilba, texted.

I tapped the keypad in confusion. What are you talking about?

The interview. You need to see it.

The congregation climbed up onto the stage, surrounding me. A wall of pink fluff constricted around me, with angry faces visible in my periphery. Outrage was mixed with tear-soaked expressions, and fearful brays. I had always cared for my local community; the sudden hostility and panic baffled me. It didn’t make sense how an ordinary sermon had devolved…from an interview?

“The church has been lying, is that it? Priest Wullara is lying!” a voice hissed.

My eyes widened. “I never lied to you!”

“Species with religions against predators are predators. That means us.”

“Why weren’t the Suleans tampered with? T-they’re herbivores, and we’re…holy auras.”

“You’re a Kolshian puppet, Wullara. What compensation are they giving you? How could you force that deception on us?”

I had no idea what these reactions were about, from the snippets I’d overhead. It was absurd to claim that the Iftali were predators. Our species took precautions to do no harm, and even moderated our plant consumption! There had to be a way to de-escalate this mass hysteria. First, I needed to figure out what was going on, and release a statement.

The humans might’ve learned of today’s sacred ritual, and found some way to disseminate propaganda. It would be an extra kick to the teeth, to desecrate the equinox. Perhaps they’d tortured a confession from a high-ranking Iftali; I didn’t want to know how they’d captured one of us. If Terrans were launching information campaigns, war could be imminent.

I backed away from the mob, scanning my message notifications. There were hundreds of pings, as well as trending suggestions on social media.

Priest Wullara, I must cancel our partnership until further notice. Karvan, a Sulean who ran a local food bank, had texted me. My government is investigating the church for espionage.

My reply was rushed. Espionage? What?!

They think the church was created by the Kolshians. To control your culture and beliefs. If they really did that to you…I’m sorry.

That’s insane! Who’s lobbying such claims?

Chief Nikonus himself. This Harchen reporter, Cilany, leaked a private conversation. It implicates the Iftali, along with dozens of other races.

The throng of Iftali were still following me; their expressions ranged from despair to hostility. Sirens were audible outside the building, one after another. My holopad vibrated with an emergency alert, which was a simple request for residents to calm down. That was an unsettling comment for the government to offer.

I stomped a hoof for order. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me watch the video, and we’ll d-decide together if it’s a human trick…okay? We could be in danger, and I care about your safety.”

It took mere seconds to search the video. It had racked up millions of views on our internet; this was despite being uploaded only a few minutes ago. The feed that played was undoctored, to my eyes. A Sulean correspondent brought the segment back from Aafa, with his commentary stapled at the end. I ensured that the crowd could see the clip, and let it play.

We heard Chief Nikonus describing, with a hint of pride, how Kolshians had converted the Krakotl. That was a bombshell of itself…knowing a founding race had once engaged in predation. Unsettling. Perhaps after this many generations, the birds had diluted their souls’ burden. That was something I had to believe, for my sanity.

But the elderly Kolshian kept talking, his gelatinous features taut with contempt. Nikonus boasted how the process was a science, implying that it was done with frequency. Then, he sneered in a Gojid’s face, asking if the religion against predators sounded familiar. My heart dropped into my stomach. That question could be targeted at the Iftalis, just as well as the Gojids.

Tears swelled in my membranes, as the world came crashing down around me. The agitated shouts fizzled into nonsense, and the holopad slipped from my grasp. Was the religion I’d devoted my life to a construct of the Federation? How could I accept that…was I a fraud?

The Federation are a peaceful organization, dedicated to exploration. Such meddling…they wouldn’t. It can’t all be fake.

My logical brain leapt to action. “Let’s not jump to conclusions! Nobody mentioned the Iftali by name. Our faith is different from many others…the Krakotl’s false idol doesn’t disprove our traditions. We need to investigate this before we do anything.”

“And what if it’s proven that we’re predators, Priest?”

“It doesn’t change a thing. I still believe that killing is wrong, even if it’s something a Kolshian told me. Don’t you? Besides, I don’t feel like a predator.”

“We don’t know what being a predator feels like. The Gojids and the Krakotl didn’t think they were either!”

“But those two didn’t co-exist with another sapient race, before first contact. Think about it. Wouldn’t we have killed the Suleans off, if we were predators?”

The crowd mulled over my words, and settled back with relieved expressions. I couldn’t blame the Sulean visitors for panicking at this news, but they’d calm. Once they reached the same conclusion, we would be able to laugh and put this moment behind us. Our cultures were too dependent on each other to untangle; we were stronger together.

Now, the decision on whether to shun other ‘predator’ races…that was something the Order needed to debate. It would require a close examination of scripture, and an estimate of their souls’ contamination. Was a thousand years of cleansing enough to alleviate their spirits? I was grateful that I had the surety of faith to fall back on, for now.

This was going to be a difficult time, regardless of investigations into Iftali traditions. If the Kolshians were experimenting with predators, we needed to leave the Federation. The Arxur war was a direct result of their meddling, by Nikonus’ admission. That alone was worth holding a grudge over; Jild had suffered like every homeworld.

“Go back to your families. People are panicking, so avoid crowds; I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” I said. “Now, it’s as important to stray from temptation as ever. Contact your Sulean friends, and lead the calls for an investigation. We want these allegations cleared from the Iftali name.”

Arching my tri-humped back, I pranced back to my meditation room. The crowd allowed me to depart, and filtered out the exits in an orderly fashion. My Order assistants tailed me, praising me for my quick thinking. It was nice that my rhetoric squashed their doubts, but Nikonus’ comments didn’t sit well with me. There existed the possibility that our faith was falsified, and I didn’t know what I’d do in that scenario.

Outreach manager Zilba followed up on our text. So you’ve seen the interview? Please tell me there’s some proof or explanation. I don’t want to be a flesh-eater!

Hey, our past with the Suleans goes back thousands of years. We’ve cooperated with them since the dawn of time. Predators couldn’t do that, so there’s our proof.

Nikonus said it himself: the Kolshians plant fake archaeological texts, and rewrite history. Our past proves nothing!

But we get along with them, Zilba.

Now? Sure. But our past could actually consist of a brutal rivalry with the Suleans.

A chill ran down my spine, as Zilba’s logic sank in. The interview had explicitly stated the Kolshians altered history; a Federation team could have mopped up any evidence of conflict. That set us back at square zero. The more I thought about it, the theory meshed with the Commonwealth’s modus operandi.

How would Suleans react if they learned that we had been vicious enemies, eras ago? What if they turned on us, and planet Jild cascaded into civil war? My faith was shaken, but my confidence in my neighbors was gone as well. It broke my heart to think that we had predator heritage, and our sister species were long-lost enemies.

We cared for each other like we were one race; I didn’t want to lose that bond. Worst of all, it was going to be difficult to stop the pro-human factions from capitalizing on this. The Suleans wanted to hear out the primates before, and now, they were the clear alternative to the Federation. The ghastly Terrans would strip our morality and whisk us to war…at best.

In the midst of societal upheaval, the last thing we needed was to poison ourselves with predators.

Next 

A/N - January's miniseries is here! Two species evolved from the same world hear Cilany's news...and discover that one of them was altered. Will our priest narrator realize the truth? Will the Suleans forsake the omnivore Iftali?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! This miniseries is going to be the first one with multiple narrators: always trying to mix things up.