The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General

Date [standardized human time]: December 23, 2160

I could feel the eyes of every herbivorous diplomat on me, noting how I’d replaced Kuemper at her mantle by the podium. My shoulders felt heavy from the knowledge that I’d have to stand before the Sapient Coalition, and announce that humanity was behind the heinous, genocidal attacks. Telling Ambassador Korajan that Kalqua would be under siege, due to a war my species incited, had made me glad I didn’t have actual insides to become knotted up; I had still felt that phantom pain in my gut, which I could chalk up to guilt. The Duerten wouldn’t be the only one to react with disgust, and he might not be the lone representative that left these halls because of the truth. Who among this assemblage was a true friend to Terrans, even when we were implicated in “conquest” that they’d all expected from predators?

I held the note cards that a United Nations aide had rushed over to me, and all but threw into my hands while I was left no time to peruse them. I flipped through them to skim what I was expected to say. My eyebrows slanted downward with disgust; the pandering rhetoric didn’t critique a thing about the Battle of Aafa, or do anything other than try to paint us, in Laisa’s words, as “cuddly, harmless, and peaceful.” I wasn’t convinced that hiding parts of ourselves, as if Emergency Order 56 had never ended, was going to fix anything. It was an emergency order, not something I intended to be kept forever. If we had to pretend in perpetuity to retain a friendship, could those allies even be called allies, let alone friends? There was never any understanding about how we might be pushed to the brink, or how our cohorts might’ve done things unsanctioned by our government.

Why do we have to prove that humanity did not plan this attack? Should it not be self-evident that the United Nations had no hand in this?

The worst part was that some might offer their species’ equivalent to a nod, applauding the ark colonists’ revenge. There would never be the peace that I held so dear, as long as the United Nations bent a knee on this matter. My anger still burned after everything Tassi had told me, about how Bissems had been abused and judged. Humanity had enabled that; in trying to stand with everyone, we stood for nothing! My thoughts were rife with all of the churlish behavior we’d endured ourselves from our so-called allies. I remembered how angry I had been, about how next-to-nobody stood beside us at the Battle of Earth—the very reason I sent out the ark ships at all. The aliens were every bit as fickle now, and if they were truly in support of us, they must stand with us when the chips were down. The notecards were shoved into my pocket, since I’d chosen to speak my own truth. I wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness; I was going to demand change.

“The Sapient Coalition was founded as a commitment to each other. I see it as a marriage between our planets; a bond intended to be built on common values and mutual trust.” I noticed the human diplomats growing pale as I ad libbed my own metaphor, and a calm smile crossed my face. I rested my hands on the podium. “Humans make vows to each other, on their wedding day. For better or for worse, the words go. Swearing to stand beside one another in sickness and in health. Rich or poor. Would you say those are fair expectations to place on an alliance?”

Laisa’s ears perked with intrigue. “Of course. The Venlil are with humanity…until death do us part.”

I made a sweeping gesture to the governor, impressed with her knowledge. “Someone’s been to a Terran wedding or two! At any rate, it’s easy to…pretend that all is fine in our organization, when we’ve been enjoying a rich prosperity and healthy dialogues between our people. We’ve seen ‘for better.’ I question whether this union can stay together, now that we’ve reached ‘for worse.’ Because while our partnership may have looked rosy from the outside, or to those in denial on the inside, it is a broken marriage.”

Chatter erupted across the assemblage, with many SC representatives taking exception to my words; Mazic President Quipa trumpeted her disagreement first. “Why? Because we don’t do what you want, when you want it?”

“If this is about Aafa, humans invited the Arxur and the Federation remnants, not us. They ruined everything. Should we have stayed, and lost all of our ships because of them?” the Gojid Prime Minister spat.

“Your Secretary-General is the one who quit! If it’s broken, look in the mirror for whose fault it is,” the Thakfi ambassador sneered. “We’ve stuck with you, in spite of what you are.”

“Silence!” I shouted, as the UN diplomats melted into their chairs. Jones was the only one who looked amused. “That’s exactly the problem. This is an abusive relationship, where humanity feels trapped—exactly why Kuemper quit. We have been infinitely understanding and accommodating, while walking on eggshells around this assemblage like one would a raving, wife-beating lunatic! You do not answer when we call in crisis, and do not support our endeavors when they matter most. At best, you go along with us half-heartedly, to pretend you tried. The one-sided relationship ends today!”

Quipa stamped a massive, dust-brown paw. “How dare you say such things about us?! You really think we’re an abusive spouse who you’re trapped with? Do you want us all to leave?”

“No, but we shouldn’t have to worry that our allies will just leave us if we upset you. We shouldn’t have to throw up our hands as injustices are perpetrated under our watch, because this organization refuses to adhere to our actual vows: that Declaration of Sapient Rights that we all signed. It was important to the United Nations once, that our children should inherit a better galaxy than us. Yet we feel powerless to do anything on the path of healing or reconciliation, when that goal is struck down as somehow injurious to you. That’s how Aafa happens.”

Chauson, the Zurulian ambassador, lifted a paw. “The Zurulians second this sentiment. There’s no need for more deaths in the galaxy, but by holding onto what was done in the past, many haven’t helped to prevent it. Medically speaking, it’s a bad idea to let old wounds fester.”

“Old wounds have festered aplenty here; they’ve governed the very course of our policy decisions. There hasn’t been change, or any desire to change from the antiquated, broken ways. Perhaps the most damning of all is that humanity doesn’t have the trust of our peers. To defer to the metaphor of a relationship, is it healthy to be interrogated for your every move? To have your partner be suspicious of you, trying to catch you in the act of cheating?”

“We’re hardly worried about that. Running off to join the Remnants would be ill-advised and impossible, even with your efforts, Elias Meier,” Onso prodded.

“You place no trust in us in a different way, but that is the bedrock a relationship stands on. Instead of cheating, it’s waiting for us to prove we’re violent predators, since you’ve only penciled us in as an exception anyway; instead of realizing that the Federation lies have no basis in reality! You remember our every mistake, while we’ve forgiven some of you for ransacking our homeworld and spitting in our faces. As for infidelity, you needn’t worry how steadfast humanity is, but you have shown a penchant to cheat and shop around for newer models. Are you with us to the end, or with us because it’s convenient?”

“It was never convenient to join an organization created by humans,” the Paltan delegate commented. “What more do you want from us? We’ve been with you from the beginning.”

“I thank you for that. What I’m asking for is this organization’s compassion and understanding, rather than your judgment. Work with us, and try to compromise rather than being unmoving as a mountain. If you do not want us in our anger, at our lowest point, and in the rebuke I am giving you right now, you don’t want humanity as a friend. You want some perfect ideal that doesn’t exist: that never existed to begin with.”

The silence that hung over the chamber was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. I could discern that many were shocked to hear a UN diplomat speaking with such candor, and expressing discontent with our lot in the Sapient Coalition. While they didn’t know how to react, none of the alien representatives had left yet, but I hadn’t told them why I raised these points. Perhaps offending them before delivering the news about the ark ships wasn’t the ideal method. Would they grasp what I was saying at all, or were they about to launch into blind accusations toward Earth? My eyes lowered, the wind dropping out from under my sails. I didn’t want to return to the days of the galaxy hating us. I simply wasn’t willing to prostrate to keep the quiet, which the UN mistook for peace, any longer.

It’s better to be alone than in a toxic relationship, so long as you’re able to survive on your own. We shouldn’t be kicked around for all eternity. We shouldn’t turn a blind eye to how many fucked up things this organization has done.

I pulled the notecards out of my pocket, waving them in the air. “Let the record reflect that the United Nations wanted me to apologize, and to beg for your forgiveness for what we’ve learned today. What I want…is for you to return the support, the compassion, and the friendship we’ve shown you. I want you to work with us to solve this without blame.”

“Solve what?” Krakotl Ambassador Kelsel squawked. “The Arxur-Federation war?”

“That too, but I’m afraid it’s not what I’m referring to. Twenty-four years ago, when Earth was under threat, I authorized ark ship vessels to flee Federation space and ensure the continuance of our species. When we captured some of our mystery attackers, we discovered that…one of these ark ships had partnered with an alien union called the Krev Consortium, to seek revenge on the Federation for the presumed death of their species.”

The uproar that broke out was so calamitous that it almost made me cover my ears from discomfort, even without eardrums to be injured. Many leapt to their feet, clamoring for more details on what these ark ships even were, and why we’d sent them out; they seemed to think the UN had thrown them to the stars with this purpose in mind, when in truth, those vessels were told to run far away. Others were furious about humans putting their ships at risk, and my combative tone in spite of what we’d done. There was undoubtedly a hunger to know more about the Consortium, and why they would’ve joined forces. The accusatory voices weren’t centered on our predatory nature, with only the Leshee diplomat proclaiming that she knew this would happen.

Leshee Ambassador Yali simmered with frustration, voice deafening. “I knew the humans would come to this eventually! Attacking worlds is in their nature. They’ve been playing at being our friends, while they’d sent ships of their own off to plot!”

“Benighted Tinsas!” Loxsel yowled, flailing his paws at the ceiling. It appeared he’d finished his questioning with our generals. “Fooled even myself until I stood abreast of the bier, fooled into believing the forever-walkers were docile and peaceable! What a ruse, lo! Us representatives close-serried into this pen they call a reception hall, right where they may assert dominance. No wonder they desultorily tried to reclaim Tinsas; humans were they who stole our love and hearthstone! They were killing indiscriminately here—slaughtering ten million Sivkit expeditioners, defenseless and hapless—while taking the helm of protectors.”

“They are protectors!” the Krakotl ambassador shouted. “Humanity saved Nishtal. I forgive their transgression, as they’ve forgiven us!

Mazic President Quipa scoffed. “Whether they protected Khoa or not, Meier just had the gall to accuse us of being what caused Aafa, when his people are more to blame than anyone! They talk about injustices, turning a blind eye: their people were sent off to get revenge! Nobody ever shared that with us.”

“The United Nations wanted no such thing,” I objected. “The ark ships were told to flee as far as possible from the Federation; they have done the opposite by coming back looking for revenge. I sent them because I believed…we’d die at the Battle of Earth. Only two alien races came to our aid, yet we haven’t turned away the call of any who asked.”

The Tilfish delegate clacked their mandibles with regret: a gesture I could identify after my time with Virnt. “The UN had every opportunity to take revenge, and none would have questioned it. Instead, they showed mercy and spared us; they let us join here as friends and equals. That’s what Elias wants to return to doing, and that’s the choice humanity’s government made.”

“It’s Aafa anyway. They got everything coming to them, and still not enough,” Harchen Ambassador Nahley commented. “We regret participating in the attack on Earth. Who can fault some humans for desiring payback after all that was inflicted on them? They believed every Terran had been slaughtered.”

“Yeah! The Kolshians should’ve been killed years ago. It’s only a shame that some of the Farsul made it out from Talsk,” the Gojid Prime Minister sneered.

The Thafki representative snorted. “If predators must kill, it’s about time they start killing the right people. There were 12,000 of us left; there’s still billions of Kolshian evacuees. The galaxy should be rid of them—then those Arxur next! That’s how we solve the Federation-Collective war.”

“Absolutely not!” I shouted. “There are people who had nothing to do with any of your suffering. Do you want to be relitigating the same old wars, or deciding who is worthy of the rights that should belong to all? What if it was your species that’d done such things before you were born?”

“Then I’d know—”

“You wouldn’t want to be blamed for a crime you took no part in. Just as the United Nations had no hand in this ark affair, and we’re still going to work to rectify it. Nobody wants to be slaughtered, all because you’ve been born the wrong species! Stop lying to yourself!”

“I hope to get the ball rolling on making the situation better. We must send aid to these humans, helping to reunite them with their families,” Zurulian Ambassador Chauson commented. “They deserve our medical advancements.”

I dipped my head with gratitude. “That’s the spirit we need: radical peace and acceptance. Show these fleeing human refugees, who only remember your hatred, that we’ve changed. It’s time to be more than our worst qualities! Humble yourselves. Remember that we are all the products of our circumstances, until we decide to be the products of our beliefs.”

“Just what are those beliefs supposed to be?”

“That we must work to mend all wrongs and wounds, even those hardships inflicted on our persecutors. I wish to pour my heart and soul into a peaceful resolution, without any more blame or bloodshed—for neither of those things will do anyone any good! Who is truly with us? If you can’t abide working alongside us for the common good, without prejudice toward any living soul, then leave this hall!”

There wasn’t a sound from the SC representatives, who looked at each other for a long moment, but no species had made a move to abandon their station. I noticed the Venlil delegates break into Terran-style claps, which were picked up by the Krakotl and a few other allies. There was a lot of awkwardness and murmurs, but even the vocal Mazics and the partial-member Leshee stayed put; I hoped that it wasn’t just a lack of sympathy for Aafa keeping them here. I turned my eyes toward the empty Duerten station, and tried not to mourn the friendship that Korajan had stomped away from. The kind-hearted avian had been so angry and unable to be reasoned with; demands like that didn’t belong in the SC. Just as I’d encouraged anyone who didn’t seek peace to leave, I supposed it was for the best the Duerten Forum had departed.

The writing was on the wall when his “kindness” was to pretend, at my Shield speech, that he hadn’t heard me imply that I wanted Aafa, Talsk, and Wriss to join the galaxy as equals. Korajan and his people won’t accept it, when I push for restitution.

“I’m glad that you’ve chosen to stick it out. I hope we will all take this time to look inward; in fact, I do not hope. I won’t settle for anything else!” I exclaimed. “Let me turn the floor over to Onso, who will share what we know of the Consortium…and of Tinsas. It’s my hope to give the latter back to the Sivkits, though I understand their ambassador’s skepticism.”

“Woe to you, predator! Your monstrous presence is a blight upon our soil, which must be purged!” Loxsel wailed. “Rid your odious paws from our planet; name your true prize! No more pretense from the forever-walkers.”

I stared directly at the Sivkit, challenging him. “Oh, that reminds me. After Onso’s diatribe, our generals will share something about a rogue sect of Farsul conspirators that the Sivkits kept to themselves. Humanity intends to address every threat we face, for the sake of our safety! If you’ll excuse me: I’m going to return to my office, and work on drafting a peace treatise until it’s finished.”

I strolled down from the podium, crossing the aisles of the lengthy auditorium and traveling out into the station’s halls. With those words spoken into the air, it was inevitable that it’d circulate to each Sapient Coalition world in no time; at least the United Nations had provisions in place to reunite families. I imagined the Tellus settlers would be pariahs for a while, but what was important was that others wouldn’t call for savagely eliminating these problematic humans the way Korajan had done. We could move forward with initializing a peace and attempting to stop the drone advance, while hoping to broker an accord between the Federation and the Arxur. My final wish in my true life had been to reach out to the grays more; perhaps I could manage that. I wouldn’t be in this position long, but I could set a few things in motion for the next generation to run with.

I creaked open the door to my office, expecting to gather what items I thought most important to cover in an accord before summoning my staffers. Instead, I found a miserable-looking gray avian, with wings covering a familiar corn-colored beak, who was seated on my couch. The Duerten station had been empty during my speech to the SC, so I’d believed they’d followed through on their promise to leave. Korajan had been so disarming and welcoming, ever since I met him at the embassy; it was difficult to reconcile the tambourinist who utilized polished, diplomatic lines back then with the angry ambassador who renounced me. The murder that had blazed in his eyes a few hours earlier, was replaced by sorrow. I moved the door more forcefully, alerting him to my presence.

“Elias,” Korajan murmured. “I do care about you, you know? I wanted to help you from the moment you came to the embassy, asking for our ships, but I couldn’t. My government left no wiggle room.”

I gave the Duerten a testing look. “I recall Kuemper thanking you for promising to be there, if Earth ever needed aid. Perhaps it’s not so simple to give that favor, when the aid we need is your forgiveness.”

“What I remember was that you came knocking because you were defeated at Tinsas. What happens if you falter again?”

“There’s no guarantee that they’re coming for Kalqua. With three potential targets, we don’t know anything for certain. The Consortium might be able to stop the drones before anything happens, but if it comes to a direct attack? What I can say is that you’re an SC member, and that all of us will band together. You have Shield allies too.”

“You didn’t say what happened if you fail. I’ve noticed your insecurity, Elias, with the entire mind transplantation process. My deepest insecurity, and one shared by many of my people—Kalqua being lost. I expected you, as my friend, to care about that enough to respond to it with a measure equal to the crime! I wanted you to listen, like I listened and bought your whole ‘leap of hope’ spiel. Do you know how old I was during my homeworld’s bombing?”

I offered a sympathetic frown. “Too young, regardless of the actual number.”

“I was seventeen. Duerten, we have massive, extended families, so we all went to a bunker together; flocking next to one another…it gave a guttural snap, when the bunker collapsed, as loud as lightning! The only survivor in the whole bunker: that was me. And I lived by a ‘miracle,’ because my father had piled on top of me to take the blows,” the Duerten whimpered, tears pouring from his face. “The falling rocks, the ash in my beak…that silence as I laid trapped for days, knowing nobody else was moving. The thirst…what a horrible way to die! It can’t happen again…”

I settled next to the avian, gently wrapped an arm around him as he broke down. “I am sorry, Korajan. I can’t imagine what that was like, and the survivor’s guilt you must’ve felt as a mere adolescent; my life at that age was tranquil by comparison. I don’t think anyone should bear that kind of suffering—and that’s what I was trying to spare Aafa from. Hatred, revenge: it has real consequences for real people. For other adolescents, and citizens with no say-so in such matters. This won’t make you feel better.”

“Then what will? Enacting no consequences, and letting your species—the arks you sent off—attack us?”

“I’m suggesting forgiveness, Korajan, not the abandonment of consequences.”

“You speak of forgiveness, but so little of justice, Elias. You expect us to do nothing now, with my homeworld threatened—and that’s the end of us, if they pick off what little is left. A few thousand humans and their pets, who’ll make no difference to your species’ success, was a small price to ask, when they’ve brought this upon themselves! How can you claim to care about anything I’ve suffered…or the people who’ve died?!”

I withdrew my hand, fixing him with a stern glower. “There’s an ancient human saying that aligns with your demands: an eye for an eye. The idea that any who wrong you must be wronged the same way. If they cut out your eye, their eye must be cut out as well. That is the justice you are seeking, is it not? So, how many grieving children, wailing at the death of their parents and all that they knew, will satisfy you?”

“What? It’s not about…” A flummoxed Korajan hopped to his feet, fluttering his wings defensively. His eyes darted around, as if speedrunning the five stages of grief inside his mind. “I want them to be…punished. The gravity of their crime…”

“The punishment you insist upon is making them feel the same pain you felt. That is what you’re asking by calling for them to be killed, is it not?” I prodded, and watched a wordless Korajan open and close his beak, fumbling for a reply. “Those responsible should face punishment; being violent and cruel in return isn’t the only way. I don’t want us to become people who do that, Korajan. Let’s try something else.”

“I guess I can…raise those points with my government.” The Duerten ambassador shook his head, stumbling toward the exit. “An eye for an eye, huh? The rest of the SC…needs that speech too.”

I watched Korajan vacate the room, relieved that the Duerten hadn’t left quite yet; it took a great deal of courage to open up like that. There were too many people in this sector of the galaxy with deep-rooted pain, but someone had to find the right words to get through to them. Perhaps the gray avian had a point that the “eye for an eye” rebuke should be heard by many more ears. It was the only way we could take true steps to healing the centuries-old rift in our stellar neighborhood.