The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Quana, Jaslip Soldier

Date [standardized human time]: December 23, 2160

The people of Tellus gathered in the public square, which the Trombil had established; of the aliens present, it was mostly inquisitive Krev waiting on the arrival of the new babies—that shipment was running late. The humans, especially the paler ones, had to wear sunscreen to avoid being baked to a red, flaky crisp. How vulnerable they were to the elements, cementing their need for clothing in any climate. Tellus was an arid world, which left me glad to have my cooling armor. The local military base had been emptied for this gathering, with all citizens’ presence mandated by Hathaway: who had returned a day ago from hospitalization in our bombing. I hated having to look upon the fruit of our handiwork, seeing the burned neck skin with the texture of paper mache. Cherise seemed more detached, like she’d turned off some part of herself after weeks of spreading the news of the lost battles.

Hibernation season approached in my enclave, back on the Smigli world, and I’d thought about requesting the cultural leave I was guaranteed. Months of slumber would be a relief, instead of continuing onward down the path of extremism, and watching the Consortium collapse in real-time. I wasn’t sure Esquo’s Fighters intended to go into the winter’s sleep, however. The Krev bombed the rebels once while we hibernated, back on our homeworld. It’d give the scaly bastards an opportunity to eliminate the problematic terrorists, in response to what’d happened to the delegates. Also, if they began rallying ark ships, we had ensure they didn’t leave us behind; the humans and the Jaslips would be the species who the Federation would exterminate the swiftest.

I enlisted because I wanted to help the humans, who were facing extinction. Perhaps our cause has forced Hathaway’s response, and he’s going to agree to board a new ark. Would he take a Jaslip with him? Should I just…leave my family and my comrades, who also want a ticket out, to live among these primates?

“The old leaders of the miners’ strike movement have been up Hathaway’s ass, Quana. We can’t let the Federation find us,” Cherise muttered. “Maybe the babies are here, and that’s the signal for us to ditch the Consortium; that’s why he waited. So we’ll have a better chance next time.”

I curled my lip in disgust. “I wouldn’t trust your mayor. He was eager to curl up next to the Consortium delegates, which speaks to his character.”

“We all wanted the Krev’s help to save our species, and destroy the Federation. I’ve seen Hathaway twist situations and people to his advantage, but he seemed genuine about not wanting us to get…exterminated. In that regard, he sounds like everyone else who was an adult on Earth, and remembers.”

“Like your uncle, you mean?”

“Sure. My uncle used to tell me bedtime stories about the Krakotl coming for us, and…I wish I could talk to him. I know he wouldn’t approve of the things I’ve done, but I’ve felt a million miles away, every time we’ve shared a meal since…”

“I feel the same with my family, when we speak via holopad. I’m happy to be here, at the military base, instead of face-to-face with them. I wonder if they know, since word has a way of getting around Esquo’s Fighters. They would’ve said something, right?”

“I don’t know, Quana. The feeling that you’ve been away from someone for so long, when they’re right next to you…I got out, at least as close as a human could on Tellus. Security: that meant I was tough enough. I might not have worked the mines, but I could push my body just as far—boot camp proved that. Why would I feel so morose and melancholy now, as opposed to everything else I’ve been through? I was silent through much worse.”

“We all have a breaking point. Jaslips have a saying about taking lives. ‘To kill another, you must first kill yourself.’ It’s not literal, but…it rings true. Our innocence has departed from us for good, and what we must do…is make use of what’s left. Should Hathaway not speak the truth, we confront him here.”

Cherise shook her head with disgust. “I’m seeing this through. I won’t back down. I’ll start a fucking riot, if that’s what it takes!”

The icy resolve in her voice reminded me of Aulan; the impassioned speeches of the Jaslip Independence Brigade must’ve rubbed off on my human friend. I believed a riot was quite possible, with all of the Tellish colonists gathered here. It wasn’t too long ago that we’d sat in a kelai shop, and I’d come to the stark realization that, despite how their souls might bleed through it all, the primates would burn everything to the ground with their final breath. I wondered if the Earthlings had a last spiteful display, as the bombs obliterated their fledgling species. This new planet couldn’t come to that again. There was so much more than the downtrodden Jaslips at stake. Every Consortium world would be under attack, when the Federation found the carnivore enclaves harbored there.

Esquo’s Fighters wasn’t a glamorous or wealthy place, under heavy surveillance and with tauyas being the homes many could afford. Still, it’s my home. I’m not ashamed of where I come from, and it’ll be strange to have that all…gone. To either have our own world or be dead.

“Good morning, colonists of Tellus! It’s good to be home.” Hathaway raised a fist with a strained smile, but I could see something resembling panic in his brown eyes: the desperate look of a drowning man, like a Jaslip who’d fallen through the summer ice. “I have some developments to report that will change everything for our people. This can be a new beginning for us, if you’ll allow it. Please, remain calm.”

Cherise’s eyes widened. “Shit, Quana. Is he actually about to say it?”

“It sure sounds like it,” I mumbled. “Or he could mean the babies arrived, and that’s the new beginning. He’s right if he has misgivings about how the Krev will raise them.”

The mayor paused, pressing a hand to his deep brown chin: void of the silvery beard, after the bombing. “I knew from the moment I heard this that I had to tell you. The ship carrying our precious children was attacked and boarded. But hold on! Our enemies are not entirely the Federation species. We noticed a United Nations logo, and found humans—other humans entering our ship. I have made contact with humanity’s homeworld; there are still people that are alive there. Earth did not fall during Kalsim’s attack! Our home survived!”

The visceral reactions throughout the crowd were swift and immediate, before Hathaway had finished his prepared line. There were screams and gasps from the humans, in contrast to a mix of excitement and confusion from the Krev who’d joined the gathering. Cherise swooned, as her legs gave out, and tears poured down her olive cheeks. The Tellus colonists seemed to have a universal display of shock, before a wave of cheers—clapping hands and shouting with joy—overtook the crowd. It took several seconds for my brain to process what I’d heard, rather than look around for any clues on how the fuck to process that news. I knew I should be delighted that the primates hadn’t been massacred, but I didn’t understand how Earth survived. What had the Federation done to them, as the price for their continued existence? Was this news worth celebrating?

The settlers didn’t share the same precautions, with some begging to go home at once. It was bizarre to imagine that the people we’d been fighting were composed of humans all along. Was the war I’d signed up for on their behalf meaningless? Their entire initiative was pointless, as some of the more shrewd primates seemed to realize; why had they ever come to Tellus? If they were all booking it to the spaceport, that meant Cherise would be…gone. The playful sisterhood we shared had warmed me to an alien, for the first time in my life. Humans were the only Consortium species that sympathized with us in this dispute. They understood what it was to suffer mistreatment in a way no other race could. I wondered whether the war against the Feddies would simply cease like that, and perhaps our entire civilization would peel out of hiding—if it was safe for obligate carnivores like us.

Wait…did we become extremists that bombed the Krev capital for nothing? If humans are alive and going home, we’re not getting on an ark; we killed our consciences for absolutely fuck-all! The Jaslips will never outlast this shame, with the Consortium having this narrative. We’ll carry this burden around for the rest of our lives.

“The news is even more triumphant from Earth; they turned some of the Federation species, like the Venlil, to their alliance—called the Sapient Coalition. They won the war with the Federation two decades ago, and eliminated the existential threat we faced! Nobody is coming to wipe us out, my fellow citizens!” Hathaway pronounced, though his excitement seemed forced.

That news sent a freezing current curdling through my veins, and my fur stood upright in a second. Those goofy-ass, newly spacefaring omnivores vanquished the Federation many years ago, and we’d been hiding from an entity that didn’t even exist any longer? The Consortium massacred Esquo for absolutely nothing, and holed us away in enclaves also for nothing! We could still be on our homeworlds today, not facing an exaggerated threat that we clearly could’ve faced. If Earth managed to defeat all of those idiotic species by themselves, why shouldn’t we have tried? We didn’t even look to see what had changed, and that was as foolhardy as could be! This entire war was against a phantom, endangering Jaslips under false pretenses…they kept us down.

I was going to rip them apart, and make them pay for what they’d taken. Where was our independence?! The Krev could never begin to make this right!

Cherise choked on snot, denial in her gaze. “How can that be? We didn’t have any hope. All of them attacking us, and we barely had a few thousand ships to our name…”

“The Federation never would’ve found us. Less than a decade after Esquo, they ceased to fucking exist!” I snarled, adrenaline rushing through my veins; I yearned for a fight. I wanted to get home to Aulan, and embrace that human spirit of burning them all with us. “They can’t even pretend to justify the shit they’ve done to us! I regret nothing we did, Cherise—they deserve worse. Though I imagine you’ll just go home.”

“Q-quana…I don’t know that planet. Earth, I mean. I’ve seen it on postcards and vaults…”

“Then you’ve seen more of Earth than I’ve seen of Esquo. Clearly, things weren’t so bad for humans as you all said!”

“I…two decades. All that time, we’ve been here, licking Krev boot heels…and we’re safe? We hid for nothing? More than we already thought it was for nothing. We were fighting our own people? I don’t…”

“Like you’ll still sympathize with the Jaslip cause, now that you have a perfect homeworld to return home to; you can just leave. The Krev will let their cute darlings leave, alright.”

Hathaway raised his hands, as people rushed up to him shouting questions; Krev journalists scrambled to cover the news. “I know we’ve shed so much blood, sweat, and tears in building our beautiful Tellus. The United Nations has expressed interest in visiting and sending aid, and I, of course, welcome a reunion with home. My hope is to get this world of ours accepted as one of Earth’s official colonies, and to welcome new human citizens from back home! We have walked so they can run. This can have been for something, if we settle the frontier for our people.”

“What if we want to leave?” Cherise shouted.

“That will be your choice! I’m working to get us tapped into their internet, so you can see everything…and communicate with anyone back home. It’ll be like you’re there, without a weeks-long journey. Flights will depart from the spaceport, as soon as I can make arrangements; no one is obliged to stay. Just remember, here, we don’t have rent or to want for anything, though. This entire city was given to us, so I don’t want to squander our Eden. Besides, Earth’s culture has separated vastly from our own; they moved on without us! The same prey aliens that drove us away now mingle freely on Terran soil.”

I bared my fangs, stalking to the front of the crowd. “You have a chance to return to your home—which apparently, was there all along—and what, you’re making this some UN colony? We don’t get a colony, but you do, even though you have a home to go to? Greedy fucking bastards! The Jaslips deserve it much more than you!”

“Jaslips are more than welcome here! I certainly think you should have a colony; you don’t have to hide anymore either. We had nothing to do with the Consortium—”

“That’s why you joined them?! You want to be a UN colony, so what the fuck happens to your Consortium membership?”

“The Krev will certainly, ah, understand that our allegiance is to our people first, and that we thought they were dead when we joined. That doesn’t mean we can’t lead Earth, in its relations with all of the species here—yes, and maintain a close friendship.”

“Why do we want a close friendship if our fucking people are at war with the Krev?” a miner shouted, to immediate looks of horror from the nearby scaly aliens. It was like they’d just watched their children die in front of them, which made my whiskers twitch with amusement. “We should switch sides. Those xenos exploited us for twenty years; we don’t owe them shit! Earth has everything, so why would we stay here: separated from our culture, Mayor, like you pointed out?!”

“Earth is complicated. While they certainly had more luxuries than us, the tables have turned. We can have orbital rings before them, which will be no doubt worth a fortune some day. With this happening in our lifetimes, stake a claim here—we’ll be rich! Or our children can be, when we pass the wealth we suffered for to them! Also, we can protect humanity. We already have a military base, so we’ll expand their influence and, um, we can be a key staging ground to strengthen our species. Nobody can ever threaten us again if we’re spread out, right?”

“If the UN wants to strengthen their influence and keep this shithole, they can manage that themselves. What does fucking riches mean if we never go back and spend it, Mayor?”

“It means this wasn’t for nothing, my dear friend; I want to have something to show for our time here. You and your brothers worked for twenty-three years. All I’m saying is, don’t rush to go back to that life on Earth. Labor laws there aren’t as cushy as you remember. We can wait for the UN to show up and make proper allocations for us…and make sure they won’t punish us.”

“Punish us?” Cherise blinked in shock, as I glared at her: why was she acting like this was bad news for her?! Humans couldn’t always play the victim. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we must show we’re on their side…prove our loyalty and worth. They are coming to see how we live, and they can suggest what to do to have a smooth transition. We’re in this together. Even if you’re leaving, you don’t want to leave the ones in your Tellus family, who’ll choose to stay, high and dry. Just think this through, and keep this neat and orderly. It’ll only be a week until UN officials arrive from the Paltan base; I arranged this for you and for us! Real humans from a living Earth, here before us: a sight to see! I’ll be here to welcome them even if I’m alone, because we must apologize for what we’ve done. Properly.”

There were a few moments of hesitation and uncertain murmurs, before clapping spread. The Krev gawked at the happy expressions among the crowd, though I could see they were unsettled hearing that their organization’s purpose was false—and it was good that they were disquieted! They were likely more upset about fighting the cute humans than killing Jaslips for nothing. The only thing the primates had been useful for was getting them to not scrutinize my actions. The Tellish were going to become like everyone else, now that they realized we weren’t kindred spirits at all; their mayor just said he wanted to buddy up with those obor-loving Krev freaks! Mammals with scales, and anyone wanted to be their friend? There was no sign of the riot Cherise had promised, even though the facts of the war cover-up hadn’t changed.

A friend, my supposed best friend, would be livid for me. She didn’t ask if I was okay; she only asked about wanting to leave—leave all her troubles behind! Self-serving…I’m going to take as many of the Consortium’s people down with me as I can. Whatever Aulan asks. Anything!

“We could weep for what this cost us in the past, but instead, we must exalt the glamor in our present and future. Let us celebrate, my friends! Let us celebrate our complete freedom and control over our destiny, the peace and prosperity that our people have achieved, and the glory of humanity that we will be a part of. Have you not seen how mighty the UN’s fleet was in battle? Yesterday, we ruled Tellus; today, we rule the galaxy!” Hathaway cheered.

I pinned my ears back, slinking out of the square with disgust. “And we—we don’t even rule ourselves. I guess that’s why humans are coming here: to lord over us. Fat chance. I’ll have my liberation or I’ll have my death.”

“Quana!” Cherise shouted. “Wait up! I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care what you need.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I know where you’re going. I wanted to come with you, to make sure Jaslips don’t get shafted in this all. I want to know the truth, because I trust you and Aulan more than the fucking mayor. Am I not good enough for you, now that my species is apparently alive?! What a crime. This is hitting me like a fucking tsunami, but you can’t even think about anyone but yourself.”

I whipped around, biting her sleeve—ripping off a piece of fabric in warning. “How dare you?!”

“I’m not wrong!”

“I joined the military to help humans; I felt sorry for you.”

“Why the fuck do you think I joined up with Aulan? I risked everything, before I knew about the ships losing; only knowing what Mafani said about those kits. And you what—think I didn’t care about you?”

“Of course you don’t; nobody fucking does!”

I stared directly into Cherise’s binocular eyes, feeling my claws curl against the pavement with rage; her cheeks were tear-streaked, and though she held my gaze, I could see her lip wobbling. My anger fizzled for a half-second, with the memories of our playful banter in boot camp coming back. The friendship had grown into sharing our deepest secrets, and selling our souls together; as angry as I was at humanity for their good fortune, Benson had been with me unconditionally. My wrathfulness toward the human was isolating her from the only person she felt she could talk to, after what we’d done with the bombs on Avor. I was too livid to put myself in her paws now, or even to ask about her feelings, but I’d be stupid to turn away someone willing to help the cause. A primate face had a much easier time slipping through Krev security, after all.

With a growl of frustration, I beckoned Cherise with a tail frond; she could follow me, if that was still her wish. It was time for me to go home, and join whatever chaos was unfolding as the news reached our species. The Jaslips wouldn’t be fighting for an ark to save us from the Federation anymore; this time, it would be about unequivocal independence from the Consortium that had oppressed us for so long.