The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Quana, Jaslip Soldier

Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2160

After I’d seen how she lived in the cramped cavern below Tellus’ surface, Cherise Benson returned the favor by visiting my enclave. It was highly uncommon to have alien visitors in Esquo’s Fighters, and even rarer that they were allowed to use our underground tunnels to dodge the security checkpoints. The Smiglis hadn’t previously policed my enclave, but after Mafani’s claims went rampant, the Reskets had insisted on running security here until the war with the Federation ended. I didn’t want the Consortium authorities catching wind of what we were planning; we couldn’t risk a “random” memory scan. There hadn’t been any hostility from my kinsmen so far, with most Jaslips finding kindred spirits in the victimized, downtrodden humans.

The primates were open-minded and sympathetic in a way the rest of our allies were not. I’d decided it was worthwhile to bring Cherise into the loop, to see if Terrans might truly be willing to help and side with us.

It tickled my whiskers to think that the Federation had thought that these upright primates were the epitome of terror. Cherise looked laughable, bundled up to endure the arctic temperatures, in layered jackets that made her look double her actual size. As frosty wind whipped around us, I could tell she was freezing her ass off; living in a desert since childhood, I doubted she had any resistance to cold weather. The climate was part of what ensured other species didn’t visit our settlements, though the snow condensing on my white fur didn’t phase me a bit. It was nice to be back in a place that didn’t feel like it was trying to bake me alive. General Radai had punished me for shooting the kibblarhan who gloated about killing kits, and that disciplinary action involved lots of outdoor chores. My resulting discomfort was by design.

That Resket thinks he’s separate from what his species did to us: invading, then torching Esquo, and sniffing around in our business to this day. He’d have followed the orders to bomb us too, and justified it to himself. He questioned Director Wrolle about the Underscales to act like he’s different and above it, but he’s exactly the same. When he first told us about Mafani, he admitted he turned a blind eye to the reprehensible things they did.

“You don’t have to act like you’re okay, Quana. Shit, I know what it’s like to hide your emotions so well, no one even knows something’s wrong,” Cherise hissed, as the biting cold continued to pelt her. “I get that you’re angry. I just think it might be more than that. That you might want to talk to someone.”

I flicked an ear in acknowledgement, turning my eyes toward her. “I’m joining a Jaslip extremist group; what’s wrong is obvious. I don’t feel good about this…I don’t like their methods. I just don’t see another way of fighting back. They can’t get away with this.”

“I remember what it felt like to be at the Krev’s beck and call. Gosh, we fucking hated them. The miners went on strike; we were done.”

“What about you, Cherise? Were you done?”

“With getting squeezed and exploited for what little we had? With Hathaway calling the shots for everyone? Yeah. Trench is a weak-willed prick sometimes, but I get where he was coming from. I shared his hatred, the way your fingers twist under the gloves. With having to cover every inch or hint of being human, every time we stepped outside; locking my face away? Especially that.”

“Yet here you are, willingly covering yourself from head-to-toe.”

Cherise yanked on one of my tail fronds, and I whipped around to nip her fingers in response. “Key word, willingly. It’s not my fault that the Jaslips live in ice hell.”

“I thought ice is the opposite of your hell. This is human paradise, by that definition.”

”I don’t see any pearly gates and heavenly choirs, Quana. Let’s say we prefer tropical sunshine and palm trees. There’s a reason we have a Caribbean postcard up in my uncle’s bistro, and we’d all pretend we’re there.”

“I did that with pictures of my enclave, back in boot camp. It’s probably not impressive to you, but it’s home to me—and the tauyas beat the makeshift dorms there. I’d never been outside Esquo’s Fighters much before I got the wild idea to join the military, and defend some sad primates. It was weird seeing buildings that were colors other than white.”

“I object to being reduced to ‘sad primates,’ but go on. What is a ‘tauya?’”

I pointed with my tail toward the snow-block domed structures. “Those. Built of compacted snow.”

“Oh, the igloos! Any chance I can peek inside of one?”

“Sure; later. Our meeting tonight is in a tauya. First, I thought you’d like to warm up a bit, and get some kelai from the local shop. Best place in town, and with four stone walls between you and the elements.”

“I am up to go anywhere with insulation.”

“To the jail-pits it is, then.”

The human chuckled. “No, you know what I meant! I am curious about this all…your lives are so alien to what I’ve known, even if there were people on Earth who walked your path. Why build tauyas out of snow, instead of permanent structures? I couldn’t tell if they were made of snow, or just entirely blanketed in it. It doesn’t seem very warm.”

“Snow is a good insulator; we use it even in our permanent structures. Tauyas are part of Jaslip ancestry, and useful if you’re traveling and for some reason, not using the tunnels. I’m surprised the Reskets don’t figure out we have secret tunnels, since we used them in the war back on Esquo, but that’s neither here nor there. Jaslips build tauyas because they’re cheap, and you can make them with your paws and a saw in half a day. The enclaves aren’t flowing with wealth.”

“Yet Jaslips don’t leave the enclaves.”

I went quiet, stepping on the pressure plate to open the kelai shop’s door. “No. We don’t.”

Every customer’s muzzle snapped toward us, as they detected the human’s strange, salty scent. Suspicion glimmered in the owner’s eyes, though his demeanor warmed a bit when he either recognized me, or realized what Cherise was. This wasn’t like the kelai shops that served a niche interest in the aliens’ cities; I was unsure, apart from maybe a small number of Smiglis, that this venue had ever served other species. The quadruped seating, designed to rest our stomachs on with our legs hanging over the sides, and the low tables showed as much. The primate followed me warily, and looked like she was still struggling to conserve warmth despite the temperature differential in here. I tried to project confidence, and knew full well I was buying—the ark ship colonists didn’t have any of our currencies.

Cherise must be the first human to visit a Jaslip enclave. I need to signal to my peers that she’s with us; shit, if she’s getting stares at a kelai shop, will they let her in at the meeting tonight?

Aulan, the owner and bartender, eyed the primate. “A human? How quaint. I wonder…how do you feel about the way the Krev have been treating you, what with all the fawning and showering you with gifts?”

“I’m more concerned with how they’re treating the Jaslips, but I hear I shouldn’t say that too loud. The walls have ears,” she replied, through chattering teeth.

“That they do. This one’s on the house.” Aulan slid us two saucers of kelai with his tail, a stimulant drink traditionally made into icy slush. “For Earth. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss too. Not to nitpick about something…free, but is there any chance you could heat this up? I’m freezing my ass off, so an ice-cold drink might not help that. I…can’t feel my entire face.”

Aulan’s whiskers twitched with amusement, and he quietly lit an indoor brazier next to a table, gesturing to it. “Hold the saucer next to that; it’ll melt. You can make it as toasty as you like.”

Cherise used the quadruped seat as a stool, and reached to set the kelai down. She removed her gloves, holding her hands in front of the flames and rubbing them together. Gress would’ve found human warming behaviors and wintry gear adorable, but I found it amusing. Then again, if my species shed our thick pelt, I’d probably be in the same sled. I toted my saucer with my teeth, setting it down on the table; from there, it was easy to lap at it with my tongue. The primate seemed to be wishing for a glass, after her drink melted, but kept that thought to herself. She awkwardly tilted the shallow dish, spilling a bit on her flamboyant red jacket in the process. Her nose wrinkled, oddly folding the skin between her eyes.

“Something wrong?” I prompted.

Cherise flashed her teeth, as the red color began to dissipate from her face. “It tastes like weed. Woody, bitter, and oily. Caught me off-guard—especially since the two seem to have opposite effects. I guess I was expecting alien coffee.”

“You eat weeds? That sounds about as appetizing as Smigli compost.”

She laughed. “No, it’s slang for a drug called marijuana. Let’s just say we managed to sneak hemp plants onto the ark ships, and security…confiscated a grower’s stash or two. We have to blow off steam somehow. It definitely helped dealing with Gress on the bad days—not going off like a nuclear bomb, the way Taylor did.”

“Gress was that bad? I hate to say it, but I’ve come around to the guy. The Underscales fucked him.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Gress would act like he wanted to be anywhere else: always snarky, curt, and disinterested. He treated us like we were off killing Jaslip kits, because we wore the masks. I almost told him off for being a cold kibblarhan, Quana, when he demanded double payment—we had nothing for him because of the strike.”

“Why didn’t you lay into him?”

“Because Trench butted in, rolled right over, and agreed to that impossible demand. I do wonder what that Krev would’ve thought otherwise. I don’t blame him for it anymore. Gress thought we were Feds, and his job was to get rid of us peaceably. The cherry on top was that we hid everything about ourselves.”

“I really can’t imagine how terrifying it was for humanity. Twenty-four long years, believing anyone who saw your eyes would want you dead.”

Cherise nodded, sipping her kelai. “We’d tried being aliens’ friends before. The things they said about us—that we were monsters, for what we were. That all predators are unfeeling…”

“But we are.”

“My bad, I forgot I can drop the ruse around you,” she responded sarcastically. “My point is, I get why the Jaslips feel so hopelessly outmatched against the Krev Consortium. I get wishing you could do something about it, and feeling horrified about your people being slaughtered—discouraged and afraid because you know you can’t do shit if they decided your entire race needs to die.”

“We both know what it’s like for our lives not to mean a thing to aliens, Cherise,” I said. “But are you sure you want to do this? If the Consortium gets wind of this, or makes you walk through a memory scanner…you could be killed, thrown in a secret prison, or demonized in the eyes of those you love. You could just fucking disappear.”

The human leaned forward on her stool, a resolute glint in her eyes. “I know. And that’s exactly why I’m with you. We let them continue like this, and it might be us in your shoes next.”

“Aulan had a point. Unless you still have a bone to pick over the Krev demanding rent from you, humans have no quarrel with them. They’re repopulating your species.”

“They’d wipe out our entire species, cute or not, if they thought it was the only way to ensure their own safety. That’s what scares me. Besides that, let’s just say it doesn’t sit well with us to see canines getting kicked around. We…gravitate to your kind to adopt as our best friends. At least, I do.”

I curled my lip at her, showing off my fangs. “I knew you saw us as your obors!”

“That’s not what I said! I said best friends.”

“And meant obors. I can smell when you’re lying.”

“Bullshit; you cannot. This is just like the pheromone thing—which you made up so Trench would admit the lovesickness anyone could see.”

“I didn’t make it up. I just didn’t know with a hundred percent certainty that’s what it was.”

Cherise wagged a triumphant finger. “So you just guessed. You’re a fraud, Quana.”

“Well, after you said that, I don’t feel that bad about exposing you to unnecessary risks. And real talk…I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone. It frightens me, the lengths I have to go to for any justice or acknowledgement of how my people have been slighted.”

“That I understand. The Krev might think we’re cute little obors that can do no wrong, but…the lengths my people will go to, to avenge Earth; we are capable of so much hatred. And if your little extremist friends need proof of why a human could help them, that’s exactly what I’ll tell them. We’re spiteful, sadistic fucks.”

Despite how laughable of a predator I’d thought the humans were minutes earlier, there was something dark in her eyes. I thought about how hatred had festered in the ark colonists, and my friend clenching her fist for years of interacting with Gress. Bottling it in, caging the animal. Wishing that she could give the Federation…all aliens…a taste of their own medicine. In that moment, I saw that if the Reskets had barged into the caverns to take out the primates by force like they contemplated, the Tellus occupants would’ve brought the roof down on their heads in fiery fashion. I had been in much the same sled as Cherise Benson, holding in a growl as I took their abuse and dismissal of our claims. This was the only way to release it against an adversary who’d kill our children to score a PR victory.

“Good thing you’re on our side,” I told the human, pinning my ears back against my head. “Let’s stay by the fire a little longer; I don’t imagine these…fighters will be expecting a human. We’ll practice how to convince them to let a non-Jaslip join, and then, head to the meeting. This must be done.”

The derangement that’d hardened within her black pupils dissipated, and returned to the nervous uncertainty I typically saw swirling in there. Cherise gave me a dip of her head, focused on ensuring her acceptance—something humans didn’t want to beg for ever again. However, after our conversation, I knew both of us would do whatever it took to right such a far-flung wrong.

---

This tauya was of the larger variety, capable of squeezing dozens of individuals beneath its tall roof—not one that could’ve been constructed in a short time. The peculiar thing I noticed was a fire burning next to a heavy blanket, accompanied by a steaming, Krev-style mug of water on the ground. Perhaps Cherise wasn’t the only non-Jaslip here? That was a positive sign. I noticed the primate looking at the warm and cozy seating arrangement with longing eyes, no doubt weighing whether to request to cozy up to the fire. She forced herself not to stare at it after a long moment, instead studying the ice sculptures carved into the walls. I decided to make the first move, and moseyed deeper into the ice dwelling to introduce ourselves.

Who is the leader of this gathering? All of us in Esquo’s Fighters know the schedule and where they meet, but we keep it to ourselves and act like it’s not happening. I’m not sure I should expect an even-keel individual running this outfit…

A familiar bark came from a Jaslip seated on his haunches, and he angled his ears toward the fire. “We set that up for you, Cherise; you’re quite welcome here. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” the human said, after a surprised gasp; she cocooned herself inside the blanket without any delay.

I gaped at the Jaslip speaker. “Aulan?”

“Surprised to see me here, Quana?” he chuckled.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be…running something like this. You always seemed so…”

“Nice? A humble business owner? Not the kind of person you think would run around bombing places, I imagine.”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“We’re not how they want you to think we are. None of us want to blow up innocent people, but sometimes, explosions are the only way we’ll be heard. They have to believe we’re willing to do anything, and won’t stop at anything short of our goal.”

“And that is?” Cherise piped up, gaining a bit of confidence.

“Jaslip independence. We need our own world, built up for us, like what was given to humanity. It’s the only way we can ever truly make decisions without them lording over us, and watching our every move. There’s a lot they don’t want the public to know.”

“I’ll bite. What don’t they want us to know?”

“That they’re losing the war with the Federation: the one thing we need them for. Don’t take my word for it. It’s what General Radai told Frenelda—that’s our Consortium representative, if you’re unfamiliar, human. She ‘unknowingly’ passed along those briefing materials to one of the Independence Brigade’s liaisons.”

Gasps echoed throughout the tauya, though I saw the deepest horror in Cherise’s eyes; she remembered the last time humanity had lost a war with the Federation. I shook my head in disbelief, not understanding how the massive strike force Taylor had told us about could’ve faltered against an unwitting herbivore planet. Aulan powered up a screen to reveal a tailful of broken images and corrupted data feeds. I listened blankly to the explanation that General Radai had sent out a scouting mission to discover what had become of the drone fleet, since it was taking a lot longer than expected. It’d seemed laughable that the Consortium destroyed Esquo because they didn’t want to fight those lunatic cowards…but now, they almost had a point.

“Of a hundred and fifty thousand drones, only two with heavy damage managed to act on their retreat algorithms—and they were ones that didn’t even get close to Talsk!” Aulan howled. “From what little information we have, we found out that not only were our ships routed…it’s almost like the Federation has their own Cage! We see shielding surrounding the Farsul planet. Most shocking of all, Arxur ships came and fought beside the Federation. What the fuck is going on?! This is a disaster!”

Disgruntled murmurs spread throughout the gathering, and I shared a glance with Cherise. Her petrified confusion was unmissable; she wanted to rush back to Tellus now. I was also mystified by this news, since our results defending the human planet had been much more promising. None of our intelligence had suggested the enemy had shellworlds. How could they have routed an attack force that strong, and had the Arxur ride in to the rescue, if they didn’t know we were coming? The dates on the time stamps were too recent; I calmed down enough to parse that they must’ve seen us coming, and slowed us to make preparations.

This could be so much worse than Esquo; the Federation would kill all of the Jaslips. Except now they’re working with the Arxur, which doesn’t even fucking make sense. They hate predators, and the Arxur—the grays eat them!

Cherise raised a tentative hand. “Aulan. Did they tell…Hathaway?”

“Yes, but your mayor doesn’t want to inform the people of Tellus, because they’d panic and be difficult to control. ‘What they don’t know can’t hurt them,’ I believe Frenelda quoted him as saying,” the Jaslip sneered in response. “The Consortium quite agreed. Now I think the public has the right to know the grave peril we’re in! Especially since it’ll be us and you who get crushed into oblivion.”

“They’re going to finish what they started at Earth.”

“And what the Consortium started at Esquo. They’ll kill any predator race, which is why we need an escape plan if they start heading our way. We also have to get the word out to the public, should the worst come to pass. I don’t see why the other two attacks should’ve fared any better.”

The human gulped, color draining from her cheeks. “Leave. Like, on another ark?”

“Precisely. The Consortium keeps us tethered because they think we can’t start off on our own, with nothing; they think we need them. A hundred years of so-called preparations, and these are the results we have to show for it. They know nothing! Nothing!”

“I feel like I know nothing too. I don’t understand why the Arxur would’ve been fighting with Talsk. What did Hathaway make of that?”

“The mayor, and several of the delegates, believed that the Arxur might work with whoever in the Federation is subverting prey species like the Sivkits—perhaps to serve on a platter to the Dominion psychopaths. I’d say that’s crazy talk, but the Federation clearly has a lot more teeth than we thought. They defended themselves more than what they should’ve been able to on paper, based on what humans told us.”

“Good grief! What are we even supposed to do about all of this? The Consortium lost half of their ships, and we have no real power,” I despaired.

Aulan straightened his posture, carrying authority. “We survive, by any means necessary. We ready ourselves! Don’t think for a second the Krev and the Reskets will just let us leave. We must hit them where it hurts, so that they’ll want us gone. That’ll be an unsavory task, but now is no time to waver—look what’s at stake! We either claw their bellies, or hibernate through this with the moral high ground. Raise your claws if you’re with me!”

Cherise’s hand shot up before my paw did, and despite how unimpressive her “claws” were, I remembered what she’d said about humans being “spiteful, sadistic fucks.” After hearing this grim assessment of our chances of surviving, she was on board with breaking out by any means necessary. We weren’t going to sit by and watch the Federation wipe out the Consortium’s predator races. I remembered what I’d imagined about her bringing down Tellus’ caverns atop the Reskets, if she thought the end was near. It might not be too late for that to become a reality.

“Good. They’ll watch Jaslips, but they won’t see it coming from a human—from the cute primates,” Aulan said. “You have friends who can get you into powerful places. I want the delegates, the symbols of power, of rot, blown to bits. Let’s go over the targets I had in mind; we can start small, if you’re uncomfortable diving in headfirst, but remember the scope of the entity we must topple, to continue existing. They won’t hear us until they bleed.”

Cherise stared at the feeds from the Battle of Talsk, haunted by Earth’s looming specter. She drew a shaky breath, as I gave her a supportive ear flick. “Okay. What they did to you was wrong enough, but now, they’re fucking with humanity’s survival too. What do I have to do?”

The spokesman of the Jaslip Independence Brigade switched his feed to a different, prospective view, and I resigned myself to support Cherise in an endeavor I’d never seen myself partaking in. The Consortium’s disregard for Jaslip lives had gone way too far; the two of us were committed to see this through together.