The Nature of Predators

Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2136

In a half-day, our ship would reach the edge of Republic space, and we’d be able to transmit communications back to our UN contacts. The Terrans had been slated to open an embassy on Venlil Prime, a few days after our original departure. That meant they would have a full diplomatic staff on world, and would be available to help humans abroad.

Many Terran nations requested their own embassies, so they could conduct their affairs as separate entities. While I liked the predators, I wasn’t giving out an absurd 198 embassies, versus every other species’ singular site. Humans were welcome to bicker amongst themselves about who could send their own diplomatic corps, and how to divide the turf, if they must.

I had no interest in making their discordance my business. My focus was on smoothing over both of our relations with the Federation. It was also a priority to stabilize my friend’s mental health, especially after weeks of isolation and boredom. Learning how the human mind coped with stress would be useful down the road.

After careful consideration of the astronaut’s mannerisms, I decided there was no major cause for alarm. All of our research showed that humans were highly social creatures. Ambassador Noah perked up just from having new conversation partners at hand.

A few days to unwind, in the company of his own people, and he’d be begging to get back into the field. He only needed to “recharge his batteries”, as the Terrans said.

Noah’s excelled in quite an uncomfortable position. Volunteering with the belief that he would be a martyr. Standing in as a representative for his whole species. That kind of pressure has to pile up.

“…in conclusion, the International Space Station proved that humanity can cooperate in the stars.” The predator was finishing a story I’d heard before; he had a rapt audience in our Mazic passenger. “That scientists see our beautiful Earth differently from above. The ISS was our first foothold off-world. It paved the path for lunar colonies, and set a precedent of joint exploration.”

“So then, why has your planet still not united under a single banner, Noah? You do not care for distant members of your species without a, shall I say, stellar view?” came the scoffing response.

When President Cupo’s question reached my ears, I was concerned that other diplomats would voice similar concerns. The Mazic still seemed leery of the human, despite being thrice the weight of the predator. No offense to Noah, but I’m pretty sure the beige prey-animal could knock him out with a stamp of his flat paw, easily.

Humanity’s internal divisions were a disquieting issue, to the galaxy as a whole. The newcomers seemed to be trying to work up the courage to ask about it for days. With the external threat of predation in our formative years, prey species had to maintain unity. Cooperation was our bread and fruit spread, so to speak. Indulging in petty squabbles would’ve gotten us killed.

I’d seen several exit interviews with various leaders, before we left signal range of Aafa. Many dissenters cited Earth’s disputes as proof that the predators were incapable of cooperation. It was their main evidence that the primates were still warlike and disagreeable.

“Humans evolved in a lot of small tribes, which later became nation-states. These each have their own distinct culture: beliefs, music, stories, cuisine, and languages,” the Terran ambassador replied, leaning back in his seat. “It would be losing a part of our heritage to renounce that…and because of our differing viewpoints, we don’t always agree on how things should be done.”

Cupo flared his trunk. “But why can you not maintain your practices, under a common entity? You claim freedom of beliefs are a core value.”

“It would be like you unifying with the Nevoks. You may like each other plenty, perhaps you are even allies, but you would not abide by the same jurisdiction. We have common forums, alliances, and trade agreements…so Nikonus was quite mistaken, in thinking we do not speak the language of diplomacy. We work together when it matters.”

It didn’t escape my notice that Tossa, the Nevok representative, was watching with interest. The Sivkit, Zurulian, and Yotul occupants were also observing the exchange. None of them were being subtle, with how their ears were swiveled toward the predator. The other Federation diplomats had flown with Recel in a separate ship, too daunted to embark on a human-infested vessel.

Cupo was just the only one bold enough to voice what they all are thinking. Now, the floodgates are open, I thought. I better be ready to intervene, if Noah gets overwhelmed.

“Predator Noah, please forgive my impertinence.” Laulo, the Yotul diplomat, spoke in a measured tone. The uplift had given the human a wide berth, but at least was able to meet his startling gaze. “Do humans still fight wars when you, um, disagree?”

“Sometimes. One always hopes those quarrels can be resolved with words. Rest assured, a common threat, like the Arxur, should place any of our lingering disputes on the back burner.”

The Federation representatives looked baffled by that answer. As I learned early on, the national affairs of Earth were a complex matter. It was imprudent to deal with any nation individually, since that could be construed as favoritism. Most of the humans’ rhetoric was posturing, but they were always locked in jealous competition.

It was strange how human tribes perceived their interests as separate. They had much more in common than divided them, and they even seemed to recognize their folly when asked. It was one of several areas I had pointed out to renowned neuroscientist Ilja for closer study.

“I suspect a human’s temper can run much hotter, much quicker than ours,” Chauson offered, in a matter-of-fact tone. “None of my research suggests their end goal is loss of life. It is just the result of aggression. Their predatory inclination is to deal with a perceived threat through violence, rather than fleeing.”

“Er, not fully accurate, doc. Humans have a fight or flight response,” Noah growled. "We can panic or freeze, just like you. It varies from person to person, and what temperament they have. Some of us are wholly incapable of aggression.”

A contemplative silence fell over our entourage, and Chauson scribbled something in his sketchbook. The last tidbit was news to me too. I assumed aggression was part of every predator’s natural makeup, since that ferocity facilitated their ancestors’ survival.

Were there really some humans as timid and anxious as us? That cowered at threats like Venlil?

If so, it was obvious Noah was not one of those humans. While the ambassador was skilled at masking his emotions, hostility seeped through whenever he saw the Venlil threatened. Its source was almost paternal. The look in his eyes at first contact, when he watched the grays tormenting our pups, was apoplectic.

Lots of compassionate humans were angry when they saw those videos. I wish we were home, so the Federation could meet the volunteer doctors and aid workers. It’s been too—

A rattling noise hummed through the ship walls, jolting me out of my thoughts. This time, it was more insistent than its previous occurrences throughout the journey. There was no reason a ship which deployed a year ago should experience issues, but it roused some worries nonetheless.

“Hey, Tarva? Not to stir up panic, but is that grating sound normal?” the Terran ambassador asked.

Something felt…off with the shuttle, since it took flight. The predator’s unease validated my suspicions. I was inclined to propose further investigation, even though we were one territory away from home. The last thing we needed was to be stranded in space, with a bunch of skittish diplomats and an inoperable ship.

I tilted my head. “No, it’s not. I’m going to run a ship diagnostic, just to be safe.”

Laulo raised a peach-colored paw. “It’s coming from the cooling shaft. We should take a look there.”

“As if you know,” Tossa scoffed. “I’d hardly trust your ilk to fix a sailboat! The printing press is a novelty to you primitives.”

“Were your ancestors born with spaceships?” Noah glowered at her, and the Nevok froze under his ocular intensity. “I didn’t know we were graced by the presence of a species, who were endowed with divine knowledge!”

Tossa quivered, her icy fur raising along her hackles. “W-we found our way on our own. We d-didn’t have everything handed to us!”

“The Yotul would have learned on their own, with time. You interfered in their natural development, so that they could join your war!”

“Are you daft, predator? The Arxur don’t give a grain stalk about natural development.”

“And neither do you, with your insensitive and tone-deaf comments. How the fuck did you become a diplomat?”

Laulo looked aghast at the predator’s vehement defense of his species. I think he assumed that the ambassador didn’t know the Yotul’s origins, but it was obvious the human had done his homework. The marsupial was likely surprised that the Terran would side with him. Especially when he was accustomed to verbal beatdowns from fellow diplomats.

It was apparent that Noah had lost all patience with the vitriolic rhetoric toward the uplift. Tossa’s condescension, singling the Yotul out at every turn, rubbed my friend the wrong way. However noble his outburst, the last thing we needed was for him to alienate an influential ally. The Nevoks could be a crucial supplier of resources and ship parts to Earth.

Axsely, the Sivkit representative, was sobbing from the primate’s raised voice. She had yet to speak a word to Noah, only introducing herself to the rest of us while he was asleep. A shouting match wasn’t the way to calm her nerves either.

“Stop it, both of you!” I hissed. “Every second we spend bickering, the Arxur win. Let’s be respectful to each other, alright?”

The human drew a shuddering breath. “My apologies, Governor. I’m not the type to stand idle while someone else is mocked and bullied.”

“It’s not mockery, predator. I’m merely stating facts,” Tossa said.

“My name is not predator. It’s Noah, Ambassador Williams, or if that’s too fucking difficult, I’ll settle for human!”

“Uh, sorry about that,” Laulo muttered.

The human snorted. “You’re fine. At least you used my name.”

The Nevok curled her lip. “Predator is just a word, which does describe you. You’re too defensive, Noah.”

“So you can pronounce it! Fascinating.”

Despite my best efforts, the two of them were still at each other’s throats. Whoever managed Terran relations with the Nevok Imperium, it couldn’t involve Noah in any way. The human was so incensed by his counterpart’s attitude, that he hadn’t noticed Axsely balling up into a fetal position. I believed he would’ve backed down if he realized the fright his ire had caused.

“Not another word!” I swished my tail in frustration. “Noah, you are coming with me, alone, and that’s not up for discussion. I’m going to run a diagnostic, and we’ll see if Laulo’s intuition is correct.”

The Terran ambassador opened his mouth to argue, but then followed my pupils toward the sniveling Sivkit. His expression softened, replaced by a worried furrow of his brow. That agitation might’ve undone any progress with the Mazic too. President Cupo had inched away from the human, and was trying to comfort Axsely with soothing words. The timid female was unresponsive, rocking back and forth.

At least our Zurulian friend seemed to enjoy that, I mused. Chauson was trying to be the ship stenographer, during that whole exchange!

Noah lowered his gaze, and strode over to me with dejection. The predator risked a glance over his shoulder, making eye contact with Laulo. The marsupial mouthed his gratitude, and the Terran’s posture relaxed. He gave the Yotul a slight nod of acknowledgement, before shuffling into the cockpit.

I hovered by the ship computer, pulling up the troubleshooting module. It would take several seconds to complete a cursory scan, which would give Noah’s temper time to blow over. I hoped that nothing was amiss with the vessel. The implications of a defect would be unpleasant.

“I didn’t scare you, did I, Tarva?” Noah murmured.

I snorted. “No. I’m just trying to stop Earth’s foreign relations from imploding on week one. For the sake of argument, let’s say you piss off the Nevoks. The Federation will parade them around, using them as proof that you can’t be allies with humanity.”

“And then, we lose the undecided votes.”

“Exactly. There is too much at stake, for all of us.”

A soft beep indicated that the diagnostic was complete, and we returned our attention to the computer. A holographic avatar of the shuttle zoomed in to the ship’s underbelly. It highlighted a long pipe in blinking red; an autogenerated note indicated that cooling fluid was leaking. The shaft was nestled right next to the warp drive, so it didn’t take an engineer to figure its purpose.

That part of the ship was only accessible from the exterior; fixing it would require a spacewalk. My immediate suspicion was that someone had tampered with the vessel. Mainly because the pipe leaked just enough, that it wouldn’t cause immediate alarm…or breakdown in range of the Kolshian surveillance team. But who would have sabotaged us? What was their motive?

“So it was the cooling system,” the human said calmly. “Stop the ship. I’ll get a vac suit, and try to patch her up.”

I flicked my ears. “No. You need to stay here and keep an eye on everyone.”

“Why?”

“I suspect foul play. Deliberate damage. If it’s one of the species on board, they could be trying to lure you off the ship. That way, they can take all of us out, without having to fight a predator.”

Noah squinted in confusion. It was refreshing that the ambassador didn’t panic at the first hint of danger; his reaction was cool and calculating. The human lacked a full understanding of the situation, and I suspected he disliked the uncertainty more than the peril.

“That makes zero sense. Who would do such a thing?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out. If our vessel went missing in no man’s land, with all of humanity’s allies on board, you know who would foot the blame.”

He frowned. “Always me, isn’t it?”

I flicked my ears in acknowledgment; Noah shook his head in disgust. Unfortunately, humanity had no shortage of enemies within the Federation. The two of us needed to talk it over, and work out anyone who could have a possible angle. Ruling out the five species on board was our top priority, since they would be an immediate threat.

Of course, it could be someone on Recel’s ship. I wonder if they ran into any trouble, or if this was only targeted at the human, I thought.

“I don’t know where to start.” I slammed a paw on the console, stressed at the prospect of ship-wide interrogation. “There could be any number of parties involved; someone inside or outside our group. An ally or an enemy. How do we even begin to narrow the field?”

“Let’s start with who we think it couldn’t be,” Noah growled. “Can we clear anyone on this ship? Someone we can account for, or are almost certain they’re fine?”

“I trust Chauson.”

“Really? I don’t know about him.”

“He’s never been unkind to you, which is saying a lot.”

“That’s exactly why he’s suspicious, Tarva. He’s too nice. What if he’s up to something?”

“The Zurulians were the only ones to reach out before the vote. Also, as you know, we do an awful job controlling our instincts. Chauson couldn’t fake not being afraid of a predator; he pranced up to you while his head was dripping blood.”

The ambassador tapped his foot a few times, and a touch of relief flickered in his brown eyes. It saddened me that mistreatment was so commonplace for him, that normal interaction triggered alarm bells in his head. The Zurulian scientist was the only person I’d seen attempt to squash his instincts, in his first meeting with a human.

If we trusted Chauson, bringing him into the loop might not be the worst idea. Three minds were better than two, and he was intelligent enough not to jump to conclusions. Besides, someone needed to mend the cooling shaft damage. I would volunteer, except that with my technical knowhow, I was more likely to make the warp core spontaneously combust.

The fewer people know the true reason for our predicament, the better. Let’s hope Chauson can keep his mouth shut, when asked.

Sharing my suspicions with the entire ship would only incite panic, and lead to in-fighting and accusations. Knowing how paranoid some species were about predators, they would find a way to blame Noah. Because obviously, the nefarious human would cripple his ride home, after weeks of imprisonment, for some illusory goal. It made perfect sense, if you didn’t think about it.

I sighed. “Do not tell anyone, anything, other than that we’re fixing a minor problem. I’m going to fetch Chauson.”

The human nodded. If anyone could sniff out deceit, it would be an observant predator like Noah. One way or another, we were going to get to the bottom of this debacle. I suppose it was too much to ask, for these introductions to be smooth sailing, and for Earth to attain some genuine allies without any hiccups.

When I ascertained the responsible party, they were going to receive some harsh retribution, courtesy of the human-Venlil alliance.