The Nature of Predators

Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist

Date [standardized human time]: December 22, 2160

For a group guarding the ship from any space piracy, the mood among the handful of militia members was jovial. Even most of the unscrupulous members of Krev society wouldn’t snatch babies from an endangered species, so we were here as a deterrent in case any dumb traffickers got bright ideas. I mean, raising needy human infants from birth would be a lot of work, beyond how morally repugnant it was. The cargo hold had been packed with ectogenesis pods, where I’d been able to glimpse that next generation. Gress had looked like he was dying on the inside, seeing newborns with their tiny hands and oversized heads. There was no reason the adoption program wouldn’t work; the adoptive families were on different shuttles, traveling the regular starship routes.

With our spirits higher than ever, the human crew had been up to all sorts of hijinks. Gress had been eager to play Truth-or-Dare. The militiamen quickly learned that was an excuse for the Krev to ask them to do things, such as remove their boots so he could tickle their feet. The mild-mannered alien’s requests were pretty tame, in comparison to some of the raunchier antics of the crew, but I felt as if we were bonding. Right now, we were sharing a special moment between the crew, after Gress helped us install a VR program into our helmet interfaces. Krev coders had recreated a few famous landmarks from Earth, with the data from the vaults; it was beyond touching to experience the simulated Great Pyramid of Giza, and the Eiffel Tower. Even the most irreverent crewmates were moved to awe.

It’s not just the human population we need to rebuild. With the Krev’s help, and our satellite imagery and records of Terran history, we could recreate every city on Earth. Even if we can’t retake and reconstruct the actual planet, we can build it somewhere new. Someday. There’s hope that all isn’t lost forever.

“Wow.” The helmet concealed the stupid grin on my face, as I let myself pretend for a second that I really was in Paris with Gress. I knew it was only projected onto the headgear’s screen, the same as its standard combat HUD. “This is beautiful. I can almost…believe it’s real. It’s like I could reach out and touch the blades of grass, or feel the morning dew in the air. Thank you for giving this to us.”

The Krev chuckled. “You’re very welcome. I wish I could’ve seen these places before they were lost, but this is enough for me to appreciate the wonders humans are capable of…and will be capable of again.”

“He’s a charmer, isn’t he?” a fellow guard, Jackson, chuckled. “Naw, the only wonders we got goin’ back on Earth were breaking dumb world records. Like biggest stack of hula hoops. World’s largest bouncy castle.”

“Bouncy…castle? How are even your castles cute?! That’s something I have to see, so you need to build one. Lecca would love it; she might decide to live in there permanently.”

“Shucks, Krev, how much ya gonna pay me to build your little one a palace?”

“I’ll do it free, and it’ll technically be the world’s largest bouncy castle—because the ones on Earth don’t exist anymore.” I stared forlornly at the intersecting metal of the Eiffel Tower, wondering what it had been like to ride to the top and see how far human civilization had spread. While I could do that in the simulation, it wouldn’t carry that assurance. “We’ll just retcon all the old world records and start anew.”

Gress patted my leg, though I couldn’t see him through the helmet. “Well, Taylor, you’re probably the world record holder for most obor treats eaten by a human. Should we etch your name in the history books?”

“Dude, you ate the fucking pet treats?” Jackson cackled.

I gasped in outrage. “Gress! How dare you bring that up? They’re just little fruit cookies, and they were good. And maybe I eat them so Juvre doesn’t have any—that obor shouldn’t be rewarded for his shit-eating.”

“Then I guess,” Gress said, a smug look in his eyes, “you don’t have to get any going forward.”

“Now I didn’t say that. Let’s just talk about it. Why can’t you be reasonable? There’s gotta be some rationality in that alien brain mush of yours, despite your awful taste in pets and—”

A jolt rippled through the walls, as if something large had crashed into the side of our vessel. The alarm flickered through the PA system, and I quickly switched off the simulation of Paris. What the fuck was going on?! I hadn’t thought even pirates would stoop this low, but if another ship was targeting us—we had to repel a boarding party. I was infinitely grateful that Radai had trained us for close-quarters combat at boot camp, but it didn’t stop nerves from swelling in my stomach. What if something happened to the infant cargo, or Gress? I scooped my rifle up from where it rested against my seat, and shoved the Krev in the opposite direction of the insertion’s marker-point. I had to get my beloved alien to safety, because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. It’d make life not worth living again.

This is real, not a drill; this is why Radai had us here, so we have to do our jobs. There’s too much at stake. I will defend humanity’s future with my life.

There were quick orders over the helmet comms to retreat to a defensible location near the kids. The militiamen also backed away from the breach, toward the armory and elevator down to the cargo hold. Gress, despite not being a combat-trained soldier, took up a pistol just in case, and kept back by the newly-sealed bulkhead—the last line of defense. Our eyes met briefly, before I crept forward with the rest of the soldiers. We readied impromptu barricades in the wide-open training center, so that if we were pushed back, we wouldn’t immediately lead them to the unborn children. I waited for a hint of information, growing more discomforted by the second. There were security cameras all across the ship, so we should have eyes on the boarders; why didn’t we know anything? I pointed my scope over a desk, waiting for any movement.

“Attention, all personnel. The enemy has short-circuited our camera system, as well as external comms. It’s impossible to get eyes on them or warn the Consortium; we are working to fix this issue and reboot the systems. However, hull sensors tell…a concerning story,” the human captain spoke through our helmets. “There appears to be some kind of cloaked ship that’s attached itself to our hull, and it’s not one of ours. It has design similarities to the vessels we fought…at Tellus. We believe the Federation…the enemy who wishes us extinct…has attacked us. Avoid capture at all costs.”

My blood ran cold, and I barely suppressed a terrified whimper. Did they somehow know that humanity had survived, and were trying to suppress the very hope of our survival? No, that must not be the case, because we hadn’t seen Krakotl bombers come to finish the job yet; they wouldn’t have sat the second act out. The only reason the Federation would capture us, rather than kill us, would be to torture our plans out of us, like they’d done to a human pilot named Marcel not too long ago. Even if they didn’t need intel from us, our existence was reason enough for us to merit suffering. I shuddered to think what they’d do to the babies, having “predators” helpless and at their disposal. We couldn’t let them see who we were, and I had to be ready to choose death over captivity…for myself and the one I cared about most.

I didn’t want to die, when I’d finally tasted happiness and found someone who cared about me. There was supposed to be more time to make up for my failings, and chart another path! This was supposed to be a joyous voyage that kickstarted humanity’s new future, arduous as it might be. Panic threatened to overwhelm me, though I fought the terrified nine-year-old clawing for control of my brain. The helmet’s overlay warned me about my rising heart rate, so I took deep breaths to calm myself. We had to try to fight the Federation off, or maybe flip the script and capture one of them. Our duty was to stave them off long enough that we could warn Tellus, if nothing else. They needed to board a new ark, courtesy of Radai…before the enemy figured out who they had on the ropes.

I clipped fragmentation grenades to my waistband, despite knowing the dangers of using explosives in a spaceship. “A last resort. We go down shooting, or sucking everyone into the vacuum. We didn’t hide for twenty fucking years to let them take us now! They don’t get to have us, or to burn those little babies downstairs. They don’t find out a damn thing about humanity’s survival.”

“Damn straight,” Jackson said, distributing grenades to the team. “This is for Earth. We hold them here. We won’t be afraid of them today!”

Cries of agreement echoed through the dozen-or-so of us in the company. I waited for the outline of a hostile—the filthy, non-human silhouette of evil—to appear on my helmet interface. The rage I’d been trying to let go of crept back up, and I let it flow into my fingertips. Knowing Gress was behind me, surely I could blow off a few xeno skulls. If the Federation wanted bloodthirsty killers, they could have that today. Muzzles erupted from beside me at the first flash of movement, which seemed like a Gojid clad in a helmet and armor. They must’ve learned about simple protective gear from us—the bastards had the nerve to copy from our corpses. I was surprised they didn’t panic or flee, instead returning fire in turn with a massive team.

Even now, the Gojids came for us, and people back then had dared to claim the cradle’s burning was a tragedy? My helmet ensured that I could correct any targeting issues caused by my twitchy fingers, or the adrenaline that felt like an engine revving inside my blood. I was alert, dialed in, and shaking from the raw power; the chemical infusion fighting for my life hit differently than when Mafani captured me, since here, I held a weapon in my hands. All I had were my wits and the hope that a bullet wouldn’t sink me at once. The return fire was ravaging the upturned tables and leaving markings on the layered ship walls. Bullets punctured the flesh of any appendages sticking out from cover, earning a scream from Jackson as one pierced the center of his hand. He gritted his teeth, toughing it out to try to brandish the gun.

“You good?” I shouted into the comms.

“Just shoot them!” he screeched back over the channel.

The chaos unfolded around us was nothing like the movies; it was impossible to process all of the stimuli around us. A nasty ricochet sent a bullet tumbling through a colleague’s neck, and he fell to the ground with wet coughs—likely to bleed out in a matter of seconds. Another leaned out at the wrong moment, and took a shot to an exposed part of the chest, just below the armpit. A few crawled over to move his dazed, gravely wounded form back to cover, and the yelps I heard suggested that maneuver had gotten them hit as well. There were just so many of the Feddies that our small team could barely touch them. We were getting eviscerated, felled as easily as trees in a hurricane! Our duty was to hold the line, and the cost of failure was too high to stomach. We had to regroup and do…something, before we lost every ally.

“Surrender now!” the Yotul barked, in a voice that was calm and confident. “You will be unharmed and granted all of the protections afforded to prisoners of war.”

I spoke into the comms. “Don’t respond into external speakers. Definitely don’t surrender; human prisoners of war don’t get rights with them. They can’t get a good look at us, or hear our voices.”

Jackson shared a glance at me, before rolling a smoke grenade into the hallway with his good hand. That obscured the scene enough to stage a retreat. I sent off a barrage of covering fire, as a few squadmates dragged the wounded back into the room. Summoning my own courage, I trotted after them while crouched over at the waist, and used a pointed eye movement to seal the bulkhead behind me. The Federation wasted no time, seeming to locate an access panel and cut the wiring that held the door in place. We didn’t have much time before they all flooded in here, and our backs were against the wall. I stared at where Gress held the pistol, before forcefully grabbing him and opening the cargo elevator bulkhead. The Krev protested as I shoved him inside and whisked the door shut; I watched as he banged on it, feeling a twinge in my chest.

I think we’re about to blow ourselves to kingdom come, and I want him to have a chance at survival. He can go down and keep watch over the children, find a way out or something. Gress is an herbivore, so he has hope.

I pointed toward the elevator, making a downward motion with my pointer finger. Despite being unable to hear him through the bulkhead, I could see Gress screaming and sobbing; he refused to do what I’d asked and head down into the cargo bay. My gloved hand pressed against the small glass cutout for a second, before I turned my back on him. Taylor Trench was supposed to be a coward, someone who wasn’t brave enough to make valiant sacrifices. Today, I wanted to be remembered as unblinking in the face of death; there was a disquieting calm permeating my awareness, as the fateful moment approached. The enemy unsealed the bulkhead on the other side, and I fired away blindly. There were so many bullets flying back at us—they had shields to press forward, and kept back along the walls, out of sight.

The Federation were much too methodical in using their own smoke grenades to flush us out, though we were lucky the helmet kept the irritants out. It still gave them the opportunity to pop out from cover, spraying and praying as they lit us up. A body hit the floor across from me, splayed at an awkward angle. The soldier who’d been struck below the armpit was propped up against a cart, firing with what little strength he had; another bullet finished the job, and sent his gun clattering to the floor. A shot connected with another human’s exposed leg, and the blood erupted like a faucet. It must’ve hit an artery, with horrifying accuracy. It seemed like it was practically me and the friendly guard Jackson left. I drew in a shaky breath, as my ammunition was depleted, and I fumbled around for a way to reload.

“I’m out. I think…it’s just you and me,” I sputtered.

My comrade sighed, gingerly holding the gun with his wounded hand. “There has to be ammo lying around here somewhere. We pulled all the shit out of the armory. Let me see—”

Jackson’s head poked out slightly from where we were crouched, and snapped back with unnatural swiftness less than a second later. A bullet had ripped through the glass, which would’ve revealed his predator face had he not dropped too quickly. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I screamed in horror to nobody; there were no other militiamen left to share the comms. The captain had to see our vitals going out one-by-one, and must be weighing whether to go down with the ship. The last stand had failed miserably, ripped apart by a fighting unit that was far more fearsome than the ones I’d known about. I waited for hundreds of shots to pelt my position, ending my life before I could try anything, but there was nothing.

Do these assholes actually think I’ll surrender? I can’t let them incapacitate me; grab the grenade. Grab it!

“I think there’s only one left. Don’t kill them; shoot to capture!” the Yotul squad leader barked. “Move in. Move it, now!”

I heard a fluttering sound, and looked up to see a Krakotl hugging the ceiling to get a view of me. The hatred in my heart reached a new high, looking at the species that had murdered my planet—and seeing them staring back at me. An expression of pure shock spread across its face, as it inspected me and must’ve realized what I was. Time slowed to a crawl, with the moment of my nightmares becoming real. I cursed the fact that my gun was empty, but unclipped the grenade on autopilot. This would be my final revenge; I couldn’t let the Federation find out about our survival. They must never know.

“You’re human?” the Krakotl squawked in disbelief.

No. This is news to them; it can’t get back to anyone. Kill that fucking xeno! I threw my helmet off, a sneer of absolute defiance crossing my features as I faced the bird. I rose to my feet, before extending my arms and walking toward them; the grenade’s pin was resting on my thumb, as I clutched it for dear life. “I sure fucking am. What color will your bastard feathers be when I let…this…go?!”

“Wait! Why are we fighting you? I…I don’t understand.” Good. You never will. I’m only waiting so I can get closer. “We’re with the humans, fighting for your side. Arjun, talk him down!”

While I might’ve been gullible, blurting a random Terran name wasn’t going to get me to believe that a Krakotl was with a long-dead species. My anger fizzled as a panicked figure rushed toward me, with unmistakable hands raised; those were my own species’ binocular eyes staring at me, and a United Nations logo on his helmet. I gasped in shock, feeling my strength waning. The world was tunneling and crashing in on me, as I failed to understand why I saw one of my people on their predator-hating side. No wonder they had emulated so many things from us, if they were us. But how could there be any Terrans left alive, and why would they side with the Federation? I would’ve thought they were distorted like the Sivkits, but Arjun wasn’t acting prey-like and fearful.

Had…some of Earth survived, without ever needing the ark ships? It defied reasoning that they’d side with the Krakotl. Still, I couldn’t deny my eyes. Assuming that the United Nations logo was legitimate, we were fighting a war with our own people, who stood right alongside the Federation. I gaped at Arjun’s face and sank to my knees, feeling my grip on the grenade almost slip. What was the justification for any of the deaths that happened as a result of what I’d done; was it all less than pointless? Were the gruesome corpses of the friends I’d been laughing with hours ago pointless?

It can’t be. This can’t be happening…I won’t accept it. I can’t accept it.

If humanity had made it out of certain annihilation somehow, that meant all of the suffering in my life—leaving my home—was for nothing. That was a possibility my agonized heart could not abide.