The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Alien Liaison

Date [standardized human time]: June 10, 2160

Onso had delivered with the ticket into the Sapient Coalition’s doors, earning us a trial period of six months, though it could be cut short at any time by a majority vote. The Technocracy granting us that long of a leash might’ve been to ensure that we’d slip up, but despite our differences, we knew better than to show them in front of the aliens. The Selmer and Vritala nations sent their own representatives, along with Zalk and myself representing the Tseia and Lassmin respectively. Zalk could play the diplomat, without Naltor present at these meetings to egg him on. When I first entered the station, a few hours outside Earth, via Dustin and Haliska’s shuttle, I was expecting to give a pitch about Bissems.

Instead, the Coalition pretended we didn’t exist, aside from the nations closest to the United Nations, who did send delegations to welcome us. Dustin suggested that we wouldn’t make our case until the time slot was up, and Bissems had to convince the forum to let us stay on. I looked for any opportunity to prove ourselves or jump in with useful insight, but we were out of place up here. Long political meetings and discussions took up the days, with occasional new legislation and guest speakers. I tried to learn as much information about the aliens as possible, even when it was tedious. The most compelling items were running through natural disasters and other crises on SC worlds, and sending aid from multiple planets.

Can you imagine what that’s like? A tsunami hits tropical Leilut, and dozens of planets chip in aid to rebuild it. That alone is a good argument for why we should join the SC; more helping flippers to fall back on!

General Naltor was in regular contact with me, eager to chime in if any military-related decisions ever did arise. We’d also been recording each of the proceedings for Lassian intelligence to comb through each bit, and notate any useful information for diplomatic profiles. The Venlil ambassador was on the floor presently, requesting outside funding for more research on the physical lifespans and socioeconomic outcomes of the uncrippled Skalgans. From what Dustin had said, the Venlil felt very strongly; while fiercely loyal, they weren’t to be messed with under any circumstances. My personal opinion was that they were a candidate for Ivrana to open trade with.

“We are getting close to a time where the Skalgans will be the largest cohort—I venture that within a decade, there will be more restored adults than those still bearing knock-knees and noseless faces.” Governor Laisa was herself one of those bearing the Federation-given afflictions, with how her legs were twisted inward and her snout was deformed. “This could have a large impact on a healthcare system, safety regulations, and mortality expectations. These are things we’ll need to know as this generation ages.”

Mazic President Quipa spoke up; her kind was much larger than the other delegates. “Why can’t you get this information from Project Chronicle, rather than making us open up our pocketbooks? Wouldn’t the Farsul have records of the changes?”

“I’m sure they were more concerned with taking kids away from their parents, giving them genetic deformities, then waiting for us to die out. They obviously weren’t concerned with our long-term health.”

“I concede the point. What exactly are the concerns about healthcare? It’d be a positive if you live longer—if you’re less sick.”

“The entire school of medicine needs an overhaul. That includes courses taught outside our borders, like those life-saving regiments at the Zurulians’ Galactic Institute of Medicine. If someone breaks their leg, how do we know if the healing time is different, or surgical outcomes? How do we handle rhinoscopies when we’re not used to Venlil having noses? We have to throw out everything that we know.”

Secretary-General Kuemper mounted the stage, having to abandon the human partition; she herded a confused Laisa away from the microphone, as soon as the Governor finished her response to Quipa. The UN leader whispered a few words in the Venlil’s ear, which only made her side-facing eyes widen with additional confusion. The Skalga natives wore their emotions on their features, so it bodes well that her creamy fur wasn’t puffed out with fear and her bushy tail wasn’t drooping. I stayed vigilant for any manner of horrendous news; the question is what would be out of the ordinary that would flummox her, but not alarm her. It piqued my curiosity, to say the least, and might be the sort of thing Naltor would want detailed notes on.

It’s not like the humans to cut off their oldest, most steadfast ally in the middle of requesting aid; they wouldn’t without good reason—something worthy of bumping health studies to a later slot.

“Apologies for interrupting Governor Laisa. The SC will always stand behind the Venlil, or any other species, as they seek to move past the Federation. We’ll continue this conversation soon, with the reverence it deserves.” The Secretary-General wore a blue velvet jacket, while the UN logo emblazoned on it matched her white hair. She had a kind, matronly face, at least in my estimation; I’d spoken with her once, but her own scientific fervor was familiar and disarming. “One of our outposts in Paltan space was approached by a Sivkit diplomatic shuttle—which clearly hadn’t seen use in decades. They were hailing us on their distress frequency.”

The human went silent, anticipating the wave of chatter that swept across the delegation. I wondered what was so evocative about the Sivkits to generate such a stir at a diplomatic ship—one that apparently had fallen into disuse. Was there bad blood toward the Coalition from the war? Perhaps they were a part of the Federation remnants, who I knew couldn’t stand us, or some kind of enemy to predators; it hadn’t taken long before I was warned about religions tailored to abhorring our kind. The gears began to turn in my head, that whatever the case, the Sivkits didn’t want to approach the SC—but unless it was a mere equipment failure, something had forced them to...

“Sivkits?” Zalk whispered to Dustin. “I don’t know those ones. How do you remember all these fucking names?”

The human leaned closer from the row behind us. “Practice makes perfect. The Sivkit Grand Herd are an isolationist faction; they’re migratory like you, but on a planetary scale. They’ve been known to devour an entire world’s vegetation like…locusts. They swore off contact with all aliens when they found out what the Federation did to them, and generally want nothing to do with their space neighbors. For them to approach us...”

“I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but what did the Federation inflict on them?” I murmured, pressing a flipper to my beak.

“In short, the Farsul modified their spines so that they couldn’t walk bipedally, and purposefully tanked their education system to give the perception that Sivkits were dumb. This was all to hide that the Federation destroyed their homeworld, since they were new to sending exterminators as a first contact party. Why admit you ruined an entire world when you can pretend these ‘idiots’ lost their planet?”

“But that doesn’t even make sense! You don’t lose planets; you write them down on detailed starmaps. Wouldn’t the Federation, by their own story, have marked the Sivkits’ location when they made first contact?”

“Tassi, your mistake was expecting logic from Federation brainrot. At any rate, we don’t know how the Sivkits are doing. They haven’t answered any of our communiques…until now. For what it’s worth, I hope they’ve fixed their spines and reclaimed their old curriculum. They deserve to make it on their own.”

Zalk slapped his head feathers in irritation. “It’s never, ‘Oh the Federation landed, and elevated a species out of the love of their hearts.’ Always maiming, crippling, and burning everything in sight.”

“Pretty much. You can see with the Venlil and the Sivkits that it wouldn’t even spare you if you were herbivorous. The Dossur are the only species I can think of that the Feds genuinely helped, and that’s probably because they welcomed them with song and worship.”

“Textbook narcissism. I don’t blame the Sivkits for fucking off.”

The Vritala representative, Chaladi, leaned closer. “I know the Tseia’s not a diplomat, but we had a conversation about not being so vulgar. We’re supposed to be making a good impression, and Zalk is the wrong candidate to be here.”

“I think we can stomach a little cursing among ourselves; he’s not wrong about how lovely it'd be to run away from this whole mess,” I answered. “Why don’t we settle down and listen to what Kuemper has to say? If these Sivkits want to join the SC at last, we can learn something from how it’s handled.”

For what it’s worth, I hope the Sivkits have managed to turn their lives around too. Knowledge is one of the few things that give us power and independence, and the Federation tried to take their very intelligence—their minds.

The initial buzz at the news of the Sivkits was dying down, and Secretary-General raised a hand to quell the last chatter. “I’m told by my generals that a lot of what the diplomat said, while shaking in his metaphorical boots, was nonsensical. However, what we know is that Loxsel—that’s his name—was begging for an audience with the Sapient Coalition. He said it was urgent. Kept repeating that there were ‘monsters out there.’”

“Do you think they found another predator race?” The elderly Zurulian ambassador, Chauson, piped up; I always enjoyed seeing him bubble with excitement over his own areas of interest. “The Sivkits tend to hide in terror at binocular-eyed creatures; I can’t imagine if they saw something like your world wars live. If that’s how they’re talking about a new species, we need to intervene.”

“Ambassador Chauson, I don’t see why they’d come to us if that was the case. As you mentioned, they didn’t enjoy their brief dealings with us. Their ambassador famously hid in a trash can.”

“Has our government been notified about the Sivkits entering our space? They are our neighbors,” The Paltan representative, Tlev, raised an amber paw and widened his already massive eyes. In my sole interaction with him, he’d claimed to have been born centuries ago; I wasn’t sure he was right in the head, but I went along with it to avoid creating new enemies for Bissems. “Any threats or activities along our borders would affect us disproportionately. Earth and most of this forum are a long way from our home.”

“I assure you, with the amount of war refugees that fled to your space, it’s in all of our interests to protect Paltan territory. We’ve been keeping your government in the loop, Tlev, and will continue to do so. With your reputation, this could be an attempt to seek refuge if there is a threat—though it’d be strange to put you on the spot before the whole SC.”

“It’d be forcing our paw, Madam Secretary-General. The Sivkits didn’t pull their weight when refugees were overwhelming our system, and refused to take any! They care only for themselves. It’d be bold to expect us to open our doors.”

The Nevok representative cleared her throat. “We could negotiate terms for taking them instead. Migrant workers, who are happy to move from job to job, could have a wonderful economic impact.”

“Let’s see what Loxsel asks of us, and what kind of aid or favors—if any—are requested before we decide anything. Humanity for one would be delighted if the Sivkits are ready to open diplomatic relations with us,” Kuemper said. “It’d be wonderful to leave the past and its grievances behind us. I’m going to transfer Loxsel to the big screen and see if he’ll tell us more.”

Before anyone else could give voice to exploitative plans, a mammalian with fluffy white fur blinked onto the screen; Loxsel was seated on all four paws, refuting the notion that they’d switched back to bipedal mannerisms. His tail was visible swaying behind him, with a large plume at the end that twitched with his evident anxiety. The Sivkit’s floppy ears were pinned back against his head, while his side-facing eyes watered as if he wanted to cry. This gave me a glimpse of what humanity experienced, trying to make nice with aliens who melted at the thought of a conversation. Was Loxsel really this afraid of the Terrans still…or was his manic energy about something else?

The Secretary-General cleared her throat. “Greetings, Ambassador Loxsel. It’s an honor to have you speaking with us.”

Loxsel’s triangular nose twitched, moisture coating the black skin. “H-hello, human. I need to tell you s-something. We’re under attack! All of us! I…we need you, and your v-viciousness.”

A few snickers passed through the auditorium, as the assemblage was clearly unimpressed with the so-called human viciousness. Zalk gestured with a flipper at Dustin, as if to say “him?” I could imagine Naltor doing the same if he were present, especially since the Selmer loved to call the primate a harmless nerd. The Terran xenobiologist scrunched his nose, huffing with indignation, and I thought I heard a near inaudible “wanderbird” slip from his lips. I personally couldn’t be less afraid of a kindred spirit like my Earthling friend, but I was concerned that teasing him too much might draw attention. It was laughable that the Sivkits considered the docile, peaceable humans to be vicious, out of old prejudices.

Why come to beseech the help of a party that you believe is some savage predator, basking in violence? What did Loxsel mean by his claim that we were under attack? That should’ve perked Zalk’s ears up, if our Tseia liaison wasn’t too busy laughing at the fluffball.

Secretary-General Kuemper raised a weathered hand for silence once more. “Why don’t you start from the beginning, Loxsel? Who attacked you?”

“Outer space. From out there! We t-tried to go as far away from you…f-from everyone in this sector.” The stutter in Loxsel’s voice was becoming a bit grating, as his plumed tail rose higher into the air for emphasis—dramatizing his points inadvertently. “Civilian ships, gone! Thousands…hundreds of thousands dead in total. D-dozens of expedition craft. We j-just…just wanted to graze! What a calamity, of aliens cruel and unfeeling! P-predators of the Arxur’s kind!”

Zalk leaned closer to me. “Is this guy for real? What’s next: swooning and pressing a paw to his head?”

“Listen to what he’s saying. Hundreds of thousands dead? If that’s true, that’s a massacre,” I whispered back. “Whoever would do that to civilians threatens all peaceful spacefarers.”

“Hold on, Loxsel. You’re saying that aliens beyond our borders attacked your expedition, killing the herds on your ships.” Kuemper paced the stage, eyes narrowed in thought. “What did you do to provoke them? Did you ignore their requests to leave?”

“There was a habitable planet, to s-stop off for a week or two: a little to nibble on. We hailed them! No answer, none! Woe is me; I c-can’t do this. It’s too much, all the bodies for no reason at all. We would’ve left! We would, definitely, certainly, unquestionably…you can’t t-talk to them. Go do the predator thing: KILL THEM ALL!”

Kuemper flinched, as Loxsel’s eyes went manic. “You do know the United Nations is anti-genocide, right?”

“Yes, human! They genocided innocent travelers. That’s w-why we come to you to burn them like Nishtal—”

The Krakotl ambassador squawked in frustration. “Hey! That’s not an acceptable comparison. Nishtal was rebuilt—”

“After it was destroyed! Exactly! They must pay for what they’ve done, but we c-cannot. I know you can take them down; you wouldn’t leave another vicious rival out there. The ships b-broadcasted their own slaughter over FTL comms, so we have a video. Look at them fire without warning! They wanted to kill us because we were there: the p-predators! Foam from the mouth! The bloodlust, the hunter’s hunt, the flames!”

“We get it. We’d like to see the video, Loxsel,” the Secretary-General sighed, biting her lower lip. “Could you please show us that?”

“If I must. Sharing screen…and sending the exact location, so you can go after them! Behold, Sapient Coalition—predators worse than the m-masters you serve. We throw ourselves at your overlords’ feet! Cement your place at the top of the food chain, and d-dominate for us.”

This Sivkit hardly seemed like a reliable narrator, so having visual proof would be helpful to validate his tale. Footage from the viewport of a spaceship bridge replaced Loxsel’s jittery face, displaying an open stretch of stars. Under the proper magnification setting, I could see craft approaching; in the background, a hail ping was faintly heard from the comms station, suggesting it had gone unanswered. The data stream HUD proclaimed that shields were raised and at 100% capacity, before a flash in the screen’s periphery showed an adjacent ship erupting in flames. Mere milliseconds later, the feed went dead, proclaiming that contact had been lost with the vessel; the easy inference was that it’d experienced the same swift demise.

Whoever’s territory the Sivkits encroached on, they were shooting first and asking questions later. A lot like the Tseia with Alsh. I wonder if aliens did something to them too?

“See the unfamiliar s-ships! Murderers, striking in an instant; no warning! Our shields were like p-paper, ripped apart with one claw. We g-give you what we saw from their contacts, so that you know what must be done! This cruelty, this injustice, was not your own, so I trust you humans to avenge my sweet grazers. Avenge the wasted cutlets, and rage forth against these fiends!” Loxsel shrieked, switching back to his own camera.

Secretary-General Kuemper blinked in evident frustration. “This happened outside the SC’s borders, and you are not an SC member state: which makes it not our jurisdiction. Why are you coming to us?”

“For help. HELP, PLEASE! We’ll walk ourselves to the c-cattle pens; just do this for us. You do not kill us in our sleep, so we’d rather you reign supreme!”

“I see. I am sorry that you were attacked, but we’ll need to discuss this. Why don’t you stay on the UN base as a guest until this is resolved? We don’t have any other diplomatic contacts to get in touch with, and we would like to open channels with the Grand Herd.”

“If I must be s-sacrificed for my people’s salvation, then here I stay! Right here. Willing, knowingly ensnared. A s-subject sent to never return, yet holding the fallen in my heart! Thank you, wrathful predator. The Sivkits await your progress staking your claim to farther off thrones!”

Kuemper hurriedly disconnected the call, before rolling her eyes in open fashion. “That was an interesting fellow, but I suppose it’s a positive that the Sivkits are taking baby steps toward diplomacy. I welcome discussion about whether SC intervention is warranted, in light of these developments.”

“If I may, anyone who comes after the Sivkits would be up against our borders,” Tlev ventured. “Anyone who would attack defenseless ships without provocation could be a threat to peacetime…or even send unknown refugees fleeing our way. We need to chart our beyond-the-borders neighbors better regardless; I think the incident merits investigation for that alone. At the least, we should assess where these aggressors’ territory is so that our future ventures stay out of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I see the reason in that. However deranged Loxsel might’ve been, there are hundreds of thousands dead without cause. I’d be willing to send a UN scouting party from that Paltan-shared base, to scope out what lies beyond the border—probing all the way to the marked location. Having more info on the threat will be a net positive. Are there any objections to us looking into this further?”

After a few moments of silence, a familiar Yotul politician stood at their desk. “None of that aspect, but we’d propose mobilizing more assets into that quadrant. In case total war erupts on the Paltans’ doorstep; it’s not impossible that these hostiles could follow the Sivkits’ trail right back over our borders.”

“We’ll send reinforcements to shore up our postings there. Backup from the Yotul and any others who have ships to spare would be appreciated.”

“Should we notify the Shield?” the Jaur diplomat, whose species had defected from the Duerten-created organization twelve years ago, asked. “Their motto has always been to mobilize for any herbivores in harm’s way.”

“We can send a communique to the Shield informing them that a Sivkit civilian fleet was attacked outside of SC space. I don’t think they need any more details; we don’t need to be fighting over who’s in charge of the scouting expedition, or have them make things worse on some revenge quest.”

“Understood. We still have connections to several of their members, so we can handle that.”

“Thank you, Nikleh.” That was his name. It’s hard to remember all of these alien names, especially when I haven’t directly interacted with them. “Humanity will brief the SC on anything we learn going forward, but we won’t have answers overnight. Let’s take a ten-minute recess. If we can all still focus after that visit, I’ll cede the floor back to Governor Laisa.”

Chatter swept across the room, as I finally took a moment to process what we had learned; it was possible that Ivrana wouldn’t be the only one at war soon, with the Coalition mobilizing past the fringes of their territory. I couldn’t stop wondering why the unknown aliens had obliterated the Sivkits on sight. The fact that they’d been able to strike the intruders down with a single blow, ignoring shields, meant their technology was strong enough to be a serious threat. General Naltor would classify this as an event that could imperil Ivrana for certain. It wasn’t like Bissems were being called to action in this emergent situation, but I still didn’t like to see trouble brewing with the organization we were trying to join.

Hopefully, there could be a peaceful resolution as a result of this scouting expedition; avoidance was a better outcome than confrontation between two spacefaring giants. It was in the humans’ nature to help those in need, but I hoped they wouldn’t get sucked into a full-blown conflict on the Sivkits’ behalf.