The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist

Date [standardized human time]: August 18, 2160

When I’d attempted to reach General Radai, I’d learned that the honorbound Resket had no intention to return to the camp on Tellus—as if he’d given up on the human experiment once and for all. He’d left Avor as well, after questioning Director Wrolle on livestream in Tonvos Pyramid; the military leader didn’t seem keen on remaining in Delegates Tower. Since he was still listed as my official commander on paper, I persuaded him via communique to meet with me. That was how Gress and I wound up on Tanet, with Quana and Cherise having brought us a care package before we left Tellus’ spaceport. There weren’t many outbound flights from my planet’s fledgling installation…though it was much larger than the landing strip where a certain rent collector used to arrive.

The Jaslip had been much friendlier to Gress, ever since Mafani told her the truth about what happened during that hostage situation. She offered a passing comment about the Resket enclave, Esquo’s Image, and how the avians would launch surprise inspections against the arctic quadrupeds living there. The unrest was reaching a boiling point within the fluffy, three-tailed carnivores’ ranks; all that simmered down their wrath was the now-escalated threat posed by the Federation. I couldn’t help but feel disconcerted that humanity had joined the Krev Consortium, and might be subjected to the same, less-than-friendly surveillance one day. What happened when we “asked questions,” or challenged the government? Right now, most colonists were living it up on the Trombil’s dime, enjoying a post-scarcity environment.

I made excuses for the Consortium, being in the same boat as us…hiding from the Federation, and taking extreme security measures to keep themselves alive. Killing Jaslips children and making Gress—a loyal, beneficent man—a scapegoat to get the heat off of their backs? I don’t see how that’s for the greater good.

“Are you really going to request a discharge, Taylor? You don’t have to do this; I’ll still be here, whatever you choose,” Gress murmured.

I drew a weary breath. “Rank-and-file military life doesn’t suit me, Gress, and it’s time I admit that. I just wanted to do something to protect humanity, after what I did, clubbing you, could’ve gotten us wiped out. Instead, I goaded Radai on to kill innocent Sivkits.”

“Radai’s a big bird. He can make his own decisions.”

“That’s not the point. I haven’t found the thing where I can actually make a positive impact—but I know it’s not this. Helping those victims on the other hand…there’s a win. For both of us.”

“That all depends on if a certain general goes along with this plan.” The Krev herded me through the spaceport terminal, as I noticed every Resket gawking at me. His claws hooked around my far hip, setting his arm around my back and keeping us close. “You know, I used to work with a Resket commander quite frequently. She was…direct. Stubborn. They’re compelled to follow orders so much that they suppress their own wishes. I don’t know that Radai’s capable of making his own choices; the real reason he fired on the Sivkits is likely that the Consortium ordered him to.”

I studied the Krev with a sidelong glance, noticing the patch on the back of his neck where his emerald scales were a touch darker. “No offense, Gressy, but you’re jumping all over the place a little. What did you mean by Reskets being compelled to…suppress their wishes? I feel like there’s a story there.”

“There’s always a story. Reskets are expected to have familial approval of who they chose as a, um, partner. There was a case I worked where a Resket was expected to marry a girl he didn’t love. He tried to go along with it, but his heart was…elsewhere.”

A sharp pang stabbed at my chest. “I…know what that’s like. Let’s just say I’ve always known that…all of us were expected to have children. We had to contribute to the next generation, or humanity wouldn’t survive.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve always thought you should be yourself. I always liked that version of Taylor much better—and the population won’t be something you have to worry about. A few more months and your numbers will be in the millions. Listen, it’s not your responsibility to save humanity alone. It doesn’t fall on you.”

“I know that. I’m setting my focus smaller…and trying to add a few things that make me happy to my life.”

The Krev’s tongue flitted from his mouth, considering my words. “You deserve a little happiness; I just wish I knew more about what you like, rather than assuming you share Juvre’s interests. Hm. You know how Lecca takes dance classes? I was thinking, if Radai takes your idea, maybe we could go to some kori classes on Avor. Before you ask, it’s a type of fast-paced dancing for, um, two Krev.”

“Consider me intrigued. Something tells me you have moves, Gress.”

“Oh, I sure do,” he whispered, warm breath striking my earlobe. “But that’ll have to be a surprise for after this. Right now, we have to find our way out of this spaceport.”

“I thought you knew the way.”

“I’ve never been to Tanet either, Taylor. I was following you!”

“So the blind are leading the blind?”

“It doesn’t sound like anyone is ‘leading.’ We could ask for help.”

“I guess we’ll learn really quickly if Reskets overall like humans. Mafani didn’t speak too highly of primates.”

“Mafani didn’t speak highly of anyone. Like I told you at your first day of boot camp—”

“Which got me kicked into next week, but go on….”

“—I’m here for moral support. Aliens don’t bite, as you say.”

“Quana literally bit Cherise’s pant leg on our final mission.”

“That was a joke, Taylor.”

“Doesn’t mean she didn’t do it.”

Gress angled his tail in a way that seemed to be threatening to spray me. “Go talk to someone that works here, and ask for directions. Now!”

“Right away, Your Scaly Highness.”

I scanned the spaceport, observing the ample security spread throughout the terminal; there were Reskets in bomb suits on standby, and drones cruising through the building to scan those of us walking below. There didn’t seem to be an avian employee I could approach that wasn’t wearing tactical armor—with the telltale Resket family crests on the dull brown gear. I couldn’t help but notice the massive guns leaning against the wall, which were about as tall as I was. My feet shuffled forward with reluctance, noticing the height disparity now more than ever. The guard leaned down toward me, a curious gleam in her gigantic eyes. Gress hadn’t seemed afraid of Reskets when he discussed their directness, and my Krev would be more alarmed if I was in danger, right?

Maybe now’s a great time to go back to kissing up to people, just for the next thirty seconds. I don’t want to fight one of these birds, after Mafani destroyed me in both of our encounters; I remember how terrified and powerless I was when he kidnapped me. But Gress…Gress did tear a Resket’s throat out. I can be normal, cool as a cucumber.

The avian guard leaned back, maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact. “You’re the first human I’ve seen. I didn’t think you made many adventures from your hidey-hole.”

“Here I am,” I agreed, chuckling nervously. “On Tanet. Your world looked very…brown, from above. Very brown and dusty…like Tellus!”

The Resket looked even more unimpressed. “Tanet is not a washed-up desert wasteland. Primates have a reputation for mischief and troublemaking, so I hope you’re not here with any such intent. We won’t find it as cute as the loopy Krev hanging on you.”

“Hey! I’m here on military business. It’s not fair to compare us to obors. We haven’t exactly had a life of…obor enterprise out on Tellus, toiling away as the last of our species.”

“It was a tragedy, human, and we regret seeing your species in such a dire spot. I am merely expressing concern—you don’t understand our customs. On our world, you must be willing to abide by honor, which I don’t think governed life on Earth. You’re very…free-spirited, from what I’ve seen of your media.”

I flashed my teeth at the avian, who didn’t appear to like that gesture. “Sorry, it’s a smile! Ah, look it up. I really don’t want to do anything at all aggressive toward you. Look, we have a concept of honor. You know, judges on Earth were called, ‘Your Honor,’ because they’re, er, honorable…respected! Maybe you have that too, actually? What do you call judges on Tanet?”

“Judge.”

“Oh. Judge. How…sensible. Very direct, and, uh, good.”

Gress had turned away from us both, but I could tell the Krev was having a good laugh at my expense. So much for saving me from myself, and moral support—he wasn’t bailing me out in the slightest! I’d only dig myself a deeper hole, the more I tried to butter up the locals. Somehow, I wanted to go back to that “hidey-hole” cavern, and never come out again. Heat rushed to my cheeks, as I could feel my cheeks turning red from embarrassment. This avian wasn’t quite as judgmental as Mafani, but she still wasn’t the least bit enamored with humans or primates…and was making me look like a bumbling idiot. I’d thought the judge remark was pretty clever, yet now, I wanted to retract those words from existence.

One of the Resket’s coworkers came over, gawking at me. “Hey, you’re that human! Berae, do you know who you’re talking to? He’s the one they paraded on livestream, outside of Delegates Tower. The first one any of us saw!”

“Yep, that’s me. Taylor Trench, first human to land on Consortium soil,” I replied. “Uh, with Cherise too, of course.”

“The Krev kept commenting on and on about how you had a baby face, with the squishy cheeks and the tiny, fuzzy scalp hairs.”

“They did what?!”

It was Gress’ turn to look uncomfortable, as he began tugging at my arm—trying to drag me away. I glared at him with full intensity; he’d left that part out, when he’d told me how the Krev reacted to humans. Why did they say I had a baby face?! I was a grown, 33-year-old man, not some infant obor. Like this Resket said, I’d had cuts all over my face, which should’ve made me look tough and gnarly. That wasn’t a dignified way to treat the representative of the ark ship colony, so it would be a wonder if they’d taken me seriously at all! Looking back at it, even the Krev guard by the orbital ring train had started to call me cute. I hated thinking that my face had been plastered over the airwaves, making me a laughingstock.

“Your hair’s gotten longer, and those cuts on your noggin are gone, but I knew it was you!” the Resket continued. “You created quite the stir on the Krev internet. They loved you!”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Apparently.”

Gress groaned. “Taylor, if I tell you you’re the cutest primate to ever exist, will you maybe let this go?”

“Absolutely not. Baby face?!”

“It’s…a compliment. Like soft, pinchy, and adorable.”

“We need to work on your view of compliments. Those are not compliments!”

The Resket tilted his head. “The Krev want to hug and belly rub every human in sight. You can’t be that surprised, Taylor. Think of it this way—you were the one who made them want to fawn over and protect your entire species. You were…all of our first impressions, so you’re basically famous. I mean, I can’t believe it’s you, the human.”

“Well, it’s weird to think that you recognized me, but…a little cool. Do you want an autograph?”

“A what?”

“It’s where you sign your name onto an object. Famous people on Earth would do it.” Gress looked melty-eyed at that point, and I scowled at him before he could ask for an autograph. “I could, er, sign your armor, or your ridiculously large gun?”

Berae took a menacing step forward. “That’s called vandalism on Tanet. Why would we want markings mucking up our personal property?”

“It was…just an offer. You like markings, family crests and all—never mind. That’s different, totally,” I rambled. “We just want directions out of this spaceport. How do we, er, leave?”

“Use a visual translator on the overhead signs to find exit, and follow the wind gust markings next to them.”

“No, I saw those, but I don’t know what they mean? Back home, we use arrows for directional markings. Those are pointed projectile weapons that we shoot from a stringed draw, and it was big for, um, hunting and war? I don’t know if that’s too predatory for you—”

“It’s not. We use curved, waving lines to denote wind, which have shorter frequencies—the arcs are closer together—in the direction they were pointing. Horizontal orientation, left and right. Vertical, forward and backward. Simple enough, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t get why a bird species that can’t fly would use wind…”

Berae’s eyes darkened. “We run like the wind. The symbol is from early cartoon animations, when a character sprints away and vanishes off-screen. Any other judgments to cast about our culture on our world?”

“No, of course not! Er, thanks for the help, Berae and, uh, friend. We’ll be following those wind markers away, right now.”

“You should do that.”

With a hope of actually getting out of here and visiting Radai, I followed the wind “arrows” hastily; the last thing I needed was for Berae to take objection to some primate behavior that I wasn’t conscious of, or to find fault with my commentary on her species. Gress snickered as I jogged off, and I wished I could bludgeon him over the head with a cane again. That Krev was awfully amused at the scenario, for someone who’d obscured how his people reacted to me. Next time we had to speak to a random Resket, he was going to be doing the talking. I huffed with indignation, but continued toward the outdoors to catch my first glimpse of Tanet’s civilization.

---

Gress and I had a perfect view of the street activity from the train, which zipped along the tracks toward the military stop. Again, as the sole human in the transit vehicle, I stood out like a sore thumb; nobody approached us, but a few Reskets whispered to themselves or took photographs. I ignored them, snuggling my head up against the Krev’s shoulder as he sat in the window seat. Compared to the megastructures of Avor, Tanet was much more modest. Even their single-story buildings had decent height though, compared to their Earth counterparts—the occupants were nine-feet-tall on average, after all. It only took a few ratite-sized floors to turn a humble complex into a tower, to my eyes.

There was also some unique pedestrian traffic to behold. While Avor had utilized moving sidewalks, Tanet’s pathways looked more like the pictures I’d seen of running tracks back on Earth. Did it feel special to sprint on a rubbery, artificial substance, compared to other floors? Part of me was curious to check it out, but the giant avians flying down it at blistering speeds were a sufficient deterrent. Reskets didn’t need a conveyor to transport them, when they’d evolved to be the best runners in the known galaxy. I observed sparring studios with intrigue, wondering what Gress would think of human martial arts—he’d probably think karate was cute, and that he wanted to tie a black belt on me himself.

“Aw, they use colored belts to look tough!” I can practically hear his voice in my head. And the real tragedy is that every cultural element Gress finds adorable, just reminds me of another part of humanity that’s gone…for good.

The Krev followed my pupils, landing on the martial arts studio. “Humans like fighting sports, don’t you? I saw this one called boxing, where you have these big, puffy gloves, and then punch bags that hang from the ceiling—it’s the most adorable aggression I’ve ever seen! I was thinking about making a punching bag for Juvre; it could be a great toy.”

“No,” I said sternly. “We are not teaching your face-attacking obor how to throw a punch. Now, making Juvre my punching bag, on the other hand, sounds brilliant.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but only because it’d make you and Lecca upset. That obor is a no-good turd. I’d send him out with the weekly trash—assuming that’s a thing, on Avor.”

“Okay, ground rule number one of our relationship. You have to try to be nice to my obor.”

“You ask for the impossible. I was just admiring the view; you brought up Juvre.”

Gress chuckled. “You had a ‘thousand-yard stare,’ as humans say, but I knew mentioning Juvre would return you to your cantankerous ways. What do you make of Tanet?”

I focused on what was presently outside the window, before pointing at a massive park area. “That space there looks as big as a nature preserve. I see Reskets playing, having a good time. It looks…nice.”

“Want me to ruin that perception for you?”

“When you put it that way—sure, why not? Destroy my miniscule faith in society.”

“Those are battlefields, Taylor.”

“Like, historical battlefields? Places that they…reenact old battles? Damn, that’s kinda neat.”

“No. I mean Resket regions set aside large areas, should they ever wish to wage war against another group. Throughout their history, they would send messages to enemy commanders, and pre-select locations and contingent numbers for a battle. Should war break out in a long-since pacified Tanet, this is a site they’d arrange a battle. The prior planning has the advantage of keeping fighting from spilling over into civilian areas.”

“At least unlike the Federation, the Reskets understand not targeting civilians.”

“The Resket rules for war are some of the oldest in the galaxy. Tanet was more than a little upset that the rest of the Consortium wouldn’t sign the Honor Accords, but some of the restrictions just aren’t how we operate. Not being able to attack without notice? Not fighting on unequal terms? Shit, they don’t even follow those in this fight we’re in now.”

I pursed my lips. “They can’t, because the Federation sure doesn’t have any limits or morals. As violent as they said we are, we had the Geneva Conventions. The Feds committed war crimes the way you pet obors.”

“So, compulsively. I see. The Consortium has committed our share of war crimes too, looking at Esquo. The Sivkits. But I wouldn’t say it’s as easy for us as obor petting. I think deep down, we’re still about saving lives.”

“General Radai will agree with you on that. I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so. At any rate, that’s the story on those ‘nature preserves.’ Reskets do take their children to play on battlefields, but it’s also the primary site where individuals will plan duels. There’s a lot of blood on that grass.”

“Not a place for us to have a picnic in the park. Got it.”

The train trundled on toward the military base, leaving the park behind. I contemplated what I’d learned about the Reskets’ prideful culture, and found myself lingering on how distinctly unpreylike their warring and sparring was. Berae hadn’t seemed to care at all that one of our most ubiquitous symbols was the arrow, a tool for death and hunting; that would’ve put a Venlil in a comatose state. How much of their petrified act was natural, and how much of it was their overlords’ doing? What had been done to Venlil Prime, because they chose to stand with us? That was a brave decision, despite how sniveling and cowardly they’d been with us. Perhaps there’d been others in the Orion Arm who once had a fighting spirit and a bloody past, but saw that wiped away by the Federation’s arrival.

The more I saw of Tanet, the more I thought of just how many cultures had been lost or stripped around the galaxy. I couldn’t save humanity alone, but I could try to preserve some of what was left on Earth…so future generations wouldn’t have only a handful of relics to look back on. Maybe the Terran homeworld could return to our control once we won the war, like Gress had suggested, and we could re-establish our predatory culture without being condemned as monsters.