The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist

Date [standardized human time]: December 12, 2160

The past few months had been kind to Gress and I, and also had been the happiest of my life. I hadn’t known what it was like to kick back my shoes, without the fear of what tomorrow might bring. The quiet, peaceful life off the radar suited me. Taking leisurely walks on the orbital rings, and staring down at Avor like it was a scenic river to stroll alongside: it gave me a serene sense of calm. Before knowing who the Krev really were, I hadn’t been to space since the ark ship’s journey. The cosmos’ beauty couldn’t be appreciated under those panicky circumstances, by oneself. Sometimes, nine-year-old Taylor had looked at the stars and saw his tiny fingers pressed against the glass, wondering which direction of emptiness Earth was even in. I thought I’d left our home forever, but the Consortium had given me a brief hope of going back.

Even though we might’ve failed, given that Radai told me months ago that our drones never made contact, I appreciated feeling hope for the future—if only for a brief flicker. I’d tasted that little bit more I wanted from life, and seen the unimaginable wonders outside of the caverns. Perhaps staring up at the Trinev Mountains on Avor, and gawking at how high the famous snow-capped peaks climbed, wouldn’t have been so moving to others. The Resket general’s frightful words about needing our own arks terrified me. I’d seen what would be lost, if the Krev had to ditch their homeworld; I’d witnessed the sights Lecca took for granted, asking whether we could go home yet. How the little shit didn’t care about literal green geysers, shooting colorful alien water way up into the air, was beyond me.

Maybe I’m acting childish by getting excited about the natural wonders on the Krev world, but I’ve found that I really enjoy the outdoors; I would’ve had no way of knowing. I’m okay with getting carried away over small beauties, especially since we might not have them long.

Gress and I split our time between Avor and Tellus, which meant I came home on a consistent schedule. Not wanting to entirely squander my military training or forsake humanity in an emergency, after enduring a brutal boot camp, I’d taken the Radai’s advice on joining the Tellus militia. I found myself in similar shoes to Cherise, when she’d accompanied me to provide the rent payments. The security gigs I took on were quiet, often watching over Krev-organized sporting contests at our arenas—drawing millions of viewers for that live entertainment. Otherwise, it’d be a quiet patrol on the boardwalk by the artificial waterway, or standing watch over the militia’s small fleet. It was a way to earn a paycheck without strict rules and commitment.

Gress’ obor hung on his back as he met me after a shift, deterring me from standing close to him. “There’s been progress on opening that massage parlor here. Plenty of spare buildings. I think I’ll have the permit in no time.”

“Let’s just hope we’re still here then,” I replied. “It doesn’t look like we’re packing up shop yet, at least. I heard the Krev families who are adopting the human children agreed to move here, into the open buildings. It’ll be crowded in the blink of an eye; that’ll be weird as fuck. I’m not used to the kind of congestion you have in Tonvos, and I don’t know how you live in it.”

“I focus on what matters. Having a faithful…obor with these cute little toes helps!”

“You absolute prick! I thought you were going to say me, not Juvre. He’s all but hanging on top of you, with those grubby mitts.”

“I’m just giving him a ‘piggyback ride.’ I love your human names for things; they’re all so silly and cute! I’d happily give you a piggyback ride too.”

I scoffed. “You couldn’t pick me up.”

“But I did pick you up,” Gress said slyly. “And more on point, I’d happily topple over in the middle of the street to have you try what Juvre is doing here.”

“Hmph. Tell me something that Krev gave a goofy name. I’m tired of you only infantilizing our names for things.”

“Piggyback rides are for children, so what’s wrong with infantilizing it?!”

“Juvre can’t be the only stupid name Krev have picked out. Imagine my surprise when I found that means scout; who the hell names a moronic monkey Scout?! I’d understand Wormpicker, Boogers, or We-Hope-He’s-Potty-Trained.”

Gress huffed with indignation. “Juvre is a perfect name. Obors are scouts; climbing trees, seeing far ahead. Not all primates just walk along the ground and act self-righteous.”

“I act self-righteous?”

“Yes, and by the way, I’ll have you know I trained Juvre myself. You’ve seen that he knows how to use the toilet.”

“And not how to shut the door, or use toilet paper.”

“Because he’s an animal. Why were you watching in such detail?!”

“I was appalled to share the facilities with that nasty little…answer my question! I’m not walking a step further until you give me some dumb names Krev have, so I can infantilize you right back.”

The Krev sighed, before doing his signature fawning look with raised claws off to one side. “We call these ‘happy claws.’ Parents do it to their children to show they’re proud of them, or that they really like something.”

“I’d really like to punch you in the face every time you do that. What else?”

“We sing the…bouncy tail song when our kids get tail rides. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m enjoying this.” I splayed my fingers, raising my hands perpendicular to each other; I positioned the happy claws beside my cheek, trying to do a face of stupid adoration. “Go on.”

“Taylor, seeing a human doing happy claws is not having the effect you want. It’s making you look like you want head pats.”

“No, absolutely not! Bother your obor with that horseshit.”

“I am. Who’s a good boy?” Gress cooed, tapping his palm against Juvre’s skull. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Taylor. There’s no need for that judgmental stare. Hey, wait, is that Quana and Cherise?”

I snorted, not following his claws as he pointed. “I’m not falling for that. Everyone’s gotta pick on gullible Trench.”

“No, I’m serious. Look!”

The Krev physically turned my head toward the Jaslip and my human friend, who were marching down the street like they were heading to battle. I knew that wasn’t the case since the duo weren’t in uniform, and were armed only with pamphlets. Confusion lingered in my mind, wondering just what was up with them; I’d never seen Cherise, of all people, so agitated. I didn’t want to greet her with full foot-in-mouth disease, and tell her that she looked terrible, but something was clearly off with the both of them. It reminded me a bit of how shaken up my reflection had seemed in the mirror, when I realized the miners died in the drilling accident because of me. It was that telltale haunted glint in the eyes that sparked some serious worries for their welfare.

Did Cherise and Quana get themselves into trouble, or am I jumping to conclusions once again? I owe the two of them my life, after they helped rescue me from my kidnapping. I have to at least ask, so I can try to be there for them.

“Quana! Cherise!” I shouted, cupping my hands to my mouth. “I thought you guys were bringing a dose of Christmas to the Krev. When did you come home?”

“Taylor?!” Cherise startled at the sight of me, with the look of a burglar caught breaking into a vault, which elevated my suspicions even further. It seemed like I wasn’t someone she wanted to run into, though she quickly hid the wide-eyed expression. “Um, we’ve been back on Tellus for over two weeks. We got an early start on the festivities. Just like on Earth, as you might remember?”

“I remember my parents saying how everything would jump straight to Christmas, as soon as the clock hit midnight on Thanksgiving evening. That was an American thing specifically, but I’m sure you had your own version.”

“Right after Halloween, for us. We humans loved our holidays, I guess, enough to celebrate the entire month leading up to it. If anything, I didn’t get started early enough to match Earth’s timeline!”

“You seem nervous, Cherise. I’ve never known you to be excited about…well, anything. You’re usually more snarky and unimpressed. Is everything alright?”

Gress leaned back, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “Ah, I see. You must be shaken up by the bombing. It’s a difficult feeling to describe, when you’ve just been somewhere that a thing like that happens. Horrific.”

“What? How did you…?” Quana yipped, voice climbing in pitch.

“The adorable pictures I saw on social media. I already ordered a Santa hat for Taylor…” Gress quickly changed his tone as he noticed my glower, as he fought himself not to raise his claws. “…so that he can have his human traditions back openly, of course. I’m glad you two weren’t there when it happened. We’re all reeling; the delegates slain in broad daylight. Hathaway in critical condition. Who would do such a brutish thing, and foster disorder?”

Cherise shoved a pamphlet into my hands. “I’m not condoning violence, but I might know the why. Look at these photographs; these are from scouts in Federation space. The Consortium is hiding the fact that we lost every ship that fought at Nishtal and Talsk. The only decapitation part of this decapitation strike is our own, self-inflicted disaster, leaving us vulnerable. They don’t want us to know.”

I staggered backward in surprise, recognizing enough of the sensor data to grasp the truth. “Radai was right. He knew something was wrong. He wanted to start building our own arks; we are going to have to leave again. Oh fuck! There’s nothing stopping them from coming back for round two, stronger than before. We can’t take them out, and they’ll find us. We should all pack our bags, right now.”

“Calm down, Taylor. We don’t need panic and in-fighting, which this whole…terrorist attack seems designed to set off,” Gress commented. “How did you two get this?”

“I was told by some old friends at home, and agreed to pass along the video on Tellus. I don’t know their source,” Quana said, though her ears twitched like that wasn’t the whole truth. Our friends’ behavior was quite strange. “We can’t let the Consortium hide their failure, the way they hid the truth about those kits.”

I shook my head. “Let’s not talk about the kits, Quana; it’s a sensitive topic for Gress, and it won’t do any good to get into it.”

“I agree. Let’s talk about something else.” Cherise butted in to change the subject, much too quickly. “You, in a bulletproof vest that says security, Trench? Never thought I’d see the day. I didn’t think we were…cut from the same cloth.”

“We’re not. You’re tougher than me, and I’m cool with that. But really, don’t try to distract me. You can’t just drop that we’re losing the war, show leaked drone footage, then leave it at that. I need details. How much do you know?”

“Enough to know that the Consortium might not let us go. Not after they invested all of this in Tellus’ metropolises.”

“And what exactly is it that you intend to accomplish by passing out these pamphlets? What do you want to do about it?” Gress pressed.

Quana narrowed her eyes. “We want humanity to have a choice, and all the facts.”

“But he’s right. What would the two of you propose to be done with this? Are you planning to get the old miners’ strike together, or sneak off into the night…” My holopad buzzed, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that it was General Radai. I thought I’d heard the last of the general, when he began digging up Listener cases. If anyone could give me answers about the war, it’d be him. “I’ve got to take this. We’ll finish this in a second.”

Gress peered over my shoulder with curiosity, and readied himself to eavesdrop when he saw the caller. We all were anxious for news, but Cherise and Quana were acting too jumpy to be invited to speak with Radai. I turned my back to the duo, and walked a few paces away. As I shot a glance over my shoulder to see if I was out of earshot, taking into account how acute a Jaslip’s hearing was, I noticed the two were already gone. Why had our friends run off so quickly, despite my wish to finish our conversation? I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more they weren’t telling us; they were hiding something. It wasn’t my business to pry, but I was a little stung that they didn’t trust us. We’d been through a lot together.

I don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into, but it’s something that involves “friends” of Quana giving them classified drone intel. Holy shit, what if those friends are the Jaslip extremists behind the bombing? I hope that’s not racist, but like, who the fuck else would have leaked military information?

“No wonder Cherise thought she knew why they did the bombing!” I hissed to Gress, eyes bulging. “She talked to the people who did it to get that information.”

The Krev tilted his head. “What?”

“I’ll explain later. Gotta answer Radai’s call.” I swiped accept on the incoming call, wondering if he was calling to update us on what we’d given him. “Hello, sir?”

“Taylor Trench,” the Resket acknowledged. “I thought you and Gress would like an update on the criminals I’ve exposed. The Listeners have not been happy with my requests to publicize their surveillance information in these instances, despite me framing it as a way to show the people we’re in control—and that we can protect them. I’ve heard rumblings that they considered having me…assassinated.”

Gress drew in a sharp breath. “If they wanted you gone, surely they would’ve just done it. The Listeners go after any who challenge them. Why didn’t they? Is it that you’re too important? Have…have they traced it back to us?”

“There’s a reason I’m scrambling the data on this call. I’m no fool. I haven’t been…”

“Wait, I thought the delegates, except Frenelda and Hathaway, were killed in the bombing. You’re the Resket representative,” I butted in.

“Still interrupting me when I’m talking, Trench? My stand-in was killed. I haven’t been going to the Consortium meetings since hearing Mafani’s claim. I’ve been concealing my whereabouts since I started digging into those files, and I have been guarded at all times by honorable soldiers I trust, though I have no doubt the Listeners could find me nonetheless. Perhaps my use is to be the fall guy for this disaster of a war. My mind was burdened enough without feeling paranoia over my own government.”

“Disaster of a war?” I prompted.

“Don’t play dumb. I know that some wiseass punk jumped the gun, and leaked my footage to half of Tellus. You must’ve heard.”

“I did. I…wanted to see if you’d say anything. Why haven’t you told people?”

“That’s not the news you tell people until, one, you can offer them an in-place, thorough plan on how to deal with it. Without a solution provided, you will have blind panic. You have to give them guidance, assure them that you’re in control. The burden of leadership requires that you maintain order, and trust in the hierarchy.”

Gress sighed. “The Consortium hasn’t given any of us much trust in the hierarchy.”

“And now we can’t even trust their military strength. If they can’t take on the Federation, who can? Knowing that it’s true, that we lost so many ships…” I lamented.

The Resket sighed with frustration. “I’ve lost the entire Consortium because we didn’t scout our enemy’s capabilities. On Tanet, you told me not to lose hope because we didn’t know the drones were gone, but now, I’m filled with a crushing dread. I want you to know I’m sorry for my failures, shamefully carrying out my duties. It was my sincere belief that I could keep humanity safe.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sir. I’m…at a loss, but thank you for telling me the truth. I knew you were honorable.”

A growl rumbled in Gress’ throat. “So that’s it?! You’re just giving up, Radai? What happened to the burden of leadership, and finding a solution?”

“I’m not giving up on anything other than victory in this war,” the Resket responded. “I have to ensure that we have a future, no matter what we might have to…give up in the coming days. I know how much the hope of a future means to humanity, and as a favor to you, I wanted to offer you two a chance to be a part of it. We all need something to hope for.”

“We’re not a part of the military anymore. Taylor was clear about choosing another path, and he deserves to have his wishes respected. I’m not sure what could be offered to us.”

“The next generation of humans will be ready shortly; someone will need to transfer their tubes from Valle to Tellus for delivery, and unite them with their adoptive families. The shipment’s security is critical. I entrusted this duty to the Tellus militia, since this great moment should belong to humanity. Knowing full well that Taylor is part of their ranks, my condition was that you and Gress are included in the first flight off the Trombil homeworld. Would that suit your wishes?”

“You did that…for me, sir?” I could feel my own eyes lighting up, at the thought of kickstarting the millions of babies that would bring humanity back from the brink of extinction. My eyes turned toward Gress, who made the happy claws gesture at me. “We’d love to be a part of that. I’m touched; this means so much to us. Finally, I can help save humanity…protect our future. It’s everything.”

Gress coughed sheepishly. “I wanted to preserve humanity from the moment Taylor lifted his mask. Thank you for including me as well, even after, you know, what I did back in that bunker.”

“It’s not a problem,” Radai replied. “It might be short-lived, but there’ll be a city filled with humans on Tellus for at least a moment. In spite of everything, my promise to restore your species stands. There’ll be thousands of babies in the cargo hold, promising that life must go on. Let us protect what matters most now.”

A toothy grin spread across my face, as I found myself buzzing with excitement. “I’ll guard the children with my life, sir. I can’t wait to bring them to Tellus. Thousands…that’s wonderful! It’ll be the most humans I’ve seen since the ark ships left.”

“Get used to it—and get your ass to the spaceport. You’ll have to leave at once. Good luck, Trench.”

I stood starstruck as General Radai disconnected from the call, before fist-bumping the air and hollering with delight. My giddiness was uncontainable, at the thought that humanity’s numbers would no longer be a few thousand survivors. The reality that we’d be leaving Tellus, and had lost to the Federation again, was devastating, but this was enough to give me hope. There was new life, replenishing all that had been lost; we had to do whatever it took to ensure that miracle survived. While it was going to be a difficult road ahead, Gress and I were bringing something beautiful to our colony in the immediate future.