The Nature of Predators - Bonus Chapter #2

Previous exclusive chapter - First Contact Continuation 

Memory transcription subject: Tyler Cardona, UN Peacekeeper (Division of Space and Aeronautics)

Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2136

[Context: Takes place before NoP 30, when Marcel returns from his confrontation with Sovlin]

Wheeling a Gojid child down the sidewalks of New York was an interesting experience. It was only a few blocks to the smoothie shop, but Nulia stuck out like a sore thumb. All it took was a single person pointing, and next thing you knew, everyone was trying to take photos of the extraterrestrial. At least the kid seemed to enjoy the attention, doing her best imitation of a smile.

There were some people out there who believed that aliens were a hoax to bring about a one-world order. My pops was one of them; his rant about me being sacrificed to the “elites’ fake war” was…delusional. Of course, if he sat on a spaceship next to an over-emotional sheep, he wouldn’t have any doubts. The old man was a senile badger who wanted to be contrarian.

Crazies were one thing. We were even luckier not to run into anyone who believed our quarrels with the Gojidi Union should be taken out on a hapless child. I didn’t want Nulia to be afraid of humans, the way the rest of them were. You couldn’t say or do anything without the aliens freaking out.

I know why my application for the first contact program was rejected. Being nice and liking science fiction isn’t enough.

The prey sapients let their instincts control them, without exercising a touch of self-control. It was bizarre, and an issue that stretched beyond the Arxur. Take how the spikebacks mauled their own children in panic, then left them to die of blunt force trauma. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Welcome to Smoothie and Sunsh…” The female voice at the counter broke off abruptly, as I hurried the stroller into the building. “Holy shit, is that an alien?”

Every head snapped our direction, and gasps sounded around the sitting area. I made eye contact with the few folks who tried to approach, shaking my head in the negative. My unwavering stare seemed to deter them from drawing nearer; my 6’5 height was enough to intimidate most average joes from picking a fight.

Nulia tapped her claws on the glass counter. “What is ‘shit?’”

The employee at the counter, whose nametag read Daisy, froze like a deer in the headlights. I stifled a chuckle at how red her cheeks turned. If she understood what the Gojid was saying, that must mean she got the translator implant when it became public. While it was an unprecedented advance in global communication, not everyone trusted those either.

“It’s a word predators use when we feel strong emotions. You’ve heard Marcel say it,” I jumped in.

“I get it!” The Gojid wagged a claw in an accusatory manner. “Well, shit! You said there was food here, Tyla.”

She used that a bit too correctly. I wonder what Captain “Mawsle” Fraser will think, the first time his alien kid hurls human profanities at him…

“Calm down! I’m ordering your food.” I studied the options, and decided to play it safe. The more ingredients crammed in there, the more likely she’d have a negative reaction. “We’ll take one strawberry-banana smoothie, please.”

Daisy rang up my purchase, and I pressed my thumb onto the payment scanner. An approved message flashed across the screen, which earned some claps from Nulia. As I moved her stroller to a waiting area, a small kid ran up to us. His mother was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t my conviction to chase off a five-year-old.

All I could do was watch like an idiot, while the grubby child poked a finger against her spines. His eyes widened, and he gaped at the pinprick by his nail. It had escaped my notice that Nulia’s back was at full bristle. I guess that meant the crowds were scaring her a bit; there were a lot of stares and noises, which she never experienced on her cradle.

I hoped the crippled Gojid didn’t poke the human boy’s eye out. If she was going to stay on Earth for any length of time, we needed to figure out how to handle her claws and spikes. She could hurt other kids while playing without meaning to.

“Those are really sharp!” he breathed in awe. “I’m Stanley.”

Her side-facing eyes were timid, but discerning. “My name’s Nulia. You shouldn’t touch that. My mommy said we have those to stop predators from eating us.”

Stanley grinned. “That is so cool! I wish we had claws and spikes. We have nothing; not even tails.”

“You have the monster eyes. Don’t you see super well?”

“Not really. When it’s dark, I can barely see at all. I’m scared of the dark.”

“Me too. I had a tree-shaped nightlight by my closet, to keep the monsters away. I miss home so much.”

Several people were filming the interaction, and I saw the nearby adults’ expressions soften. Apparently, it was the fear of monsters under your bed that conjoined our two species; the sort of thing that might prove to the Federation that we still had leftover prey instincts. The thought crossed my mind to leave some sort of lighting on back at the hotel; perhaps the glow of the TV. The Gojid seemed to like cartoons.

“Maybe we have scary predators here, to remind you of home,” Stanley offered. “Want to see my coloring book? It has lots of Earth animals.”

That literally is the part of home she wouldn’t want to remember, dumbass.

“Sure! Let’s color the biggest, meanest predator pink.”

“And then we can x out its eyes!”

“Yeah!”

I snorted, settling down on a chair. She was coping about as well as could be expected, to full immersion with an unfamiliar planet. It was tough for even me to wrap my head around what we’d seen, when I really thought about it. How did she feel, seeing the place she grew up conquered by us and then bombed to ruins?

As endearing as the kid was, I didn’t know if it was best for Nulia to raise her around humans. Knowing how self-righteous Marcel was, he believed her parents and society lost the right to have her. But it was hard to make an impartial judgment, as a predator from a different culture. Maybe she would come to blame us, for our role in the Arxur’s arrival. For causing her mother to abandon her.

I knew what it was like to grow up, feeling like you were unwanted and second-class. No matter what I did, my father was always disappointed in me. I think that’s why I resented him, why I joined the Peacekeepers.

Several minutes of waiting ticked by, before Nulia’s smoothie was ready for collection. Her eyes widened in awe, as I placed the cold drink into her palm. She waved good-bye to Stanley, who was in the process of giving a tiger magenta stripes. This was a promising sign for how she would fare with human kids; schooling and daycare weren’t out of the question.

“Bye, Nulia! You’re way nicer than the aliens on TV. They all want to blow up Earth,” Stanley said.

She sipped at the frozen fruit. “I don’t know why my mommy was scared of you. Mawsle kept me safe, and our people hurt him real bad. Just like they hurt me. I hate Gojids!”

“You don’t mean that,” I interjected. “Hating an entire species is wrong. Besides, you’re a Gojid, and you’re a sweetheart. They can’t all be bad.”

“Nobody helped me, Tyla. I cried for ages. I just wanted it to stop!”

“It’s over now, sweetie. We won’t let anything like that happen ever again. Humanity is strong, and so are you.”

“You’re right. I am strong, and my claws are way bigger than yours! Rawr!”

I smiled at her renewed spirit, and eased the stroller back outside. As the door closed behind us, I caught a snippet of conversation. It sounded like Stanley’s parent had just returned, and was skeptical about his close encounter.

“Mom, mom! I just colored with an alien!” the kid exclaimed. “She had massive spikes, huge claws, and her legs were in these weird metal casts—”

A disappointed sigh permeated the air. “Stanley, what have I told you about your stories? It’s getting old.”

“But she’s right there. In that stroller…look! Mom!

“Knock it off, or I’m taking your VR privileges for a week.”

“Hey uh, ma’am, he’s telling the truth. This one guy toted one of the Gojid refugees in here, and it was the cutest thing,” a new voice interjected.

“This is none of your business. Don’t encourage him.”

That mother was in for an unexpected surprise, when her son’s meeting went viral on social media. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on every major news stream within the hour. That interaction showcased everything we adored in Nulia.

What happened to the malleability we saw in this Gojid, with the rest of their species? The child dropped the predator hatred quickly, and had a mild reaction to our forward-facing eyes. She proved that the aversion was a learned behavior that was played up by their cultures.

Say, what would a typical Venlil childhood look like? Was Slanek taught never to go outside? I wonder how they play, or get physical activity.

My holopad buzzed in my pocket, and announced an inbound call from Slanek’s hotel room. It was as though thinking of the fluffball had conjured him. I hoped he hadn’t worked himself up over something silly again; Marcel was better at handling the theatrics.

“Hey Slanek. What’s up?” I asked, once my earbuds came to life.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re both safe.” The familiar singsong voice fluttered into my ears, shaky as ever. “There are still predators loose on your world, and I’m not talking about humans.”

“This is not necessary, man. Glad to know you care, but predators aren’t an everyday threat like you seem to think. Most of them avoid us.”

“Why?”

“You do realize we are the apex predators of Earth? We’re top of the food chain. Fucking around with human settlements doesn’t give your genes a good chance of getting passed on.”

“But the dog…”

“Any predators in our cities are there because we want them to be. Understand?”

The voice on the other end of the line was silent. Perhaps it was the idea of wanting a predator around that wasn’t registering. Slanek would rather ingest nails, from what I inferred.

“What games did you play as a kid?” I blurted.

A surprised intake of breath hit the microphone. “Er, mostly building things. Everyone wants to be an engineer when they’re a pup, but not everyone’s smart enough. There was this one game called Fortress; it was quite popular.”

“Go on. What’s Fortress?”

“You’d have a short time to build a structure with a purchased kit of items. The other player would try to knock it down without touching it.”

That was surprisingly relatable. It wasn’t unheard of, even in the twenty-second century, for human youth to play with blocks or build pillow fortresses. Electronics had made physical toys much more of a dated oddity though.

“What are popular games for human children?” Slanek asked.

I tilted my head in thought. “Hide-and-seek. Everyone finds a place to hide, and one player searches for them. There’s tag. Someone is the chaser, and everyone else runs to avoid being touched by them.”

Another long pause ensued. “S-stars, that is awful! All of those games are mock hunting. What is that teaching your children…that chasing and flushing out prey is fun?!”

“It’s just kids playing, not some grand inquisition. You read too much into things. Why don’t you look up, uh, hopscotch and marbles? They’re innocent.”

“Whatever. If you were asking for Nulia, human games should be off-limits. I saw those video games. They’re too violent, and that’s not playing for us.”

Slanek hung up without warning, and I shook my head at his tone. Play-fighting was a hallmark of our childhoods; nothing was sacred or off-limits. It was a sacrosanct part of how we formed our identities. We could unleash emotions, even darker ones, in a controlled and jovial manner. 

Maybe human games were the way to make our Gojid different from the rest. If Nulia discovered how to play like a predator, she might grow up just fine.

A/N - By unanimous vote, our bonus content centers around Nulia! I hope you enjoy this more light-hearted material, and a look behind the curtain of the human mindset.

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