The Nature of Predators 145

Memory transcription subject: Onso, Yotul Technical Specialist

Date [standardized human time]: March 3, 2137

The march toward Kolshian territory couldn’t happen in a single step; rather, it was a monumental push throughout the galaxy. The Terrans stopping by Leirn to integrate a handful of Yotul-built ships into their formation proved convenient. I didn’t need to ferry myself to Earth when the UN were docking above my world. Even if they would never give voice to these sentiments, I knew humans thought most herbivores were liabilities in combat. However, they showed no such reservations about having vessels crewed by our fiery sailors.

The minutiae of Yotul bureaucracy were also unique in our relations with Earth. No other species would’ve dared to host an exchange program on human soil, but millions of our kind were already there for the rebuilding efforts. The first meeting took place in a city called Brussels, the heart of some amalgamate faction known as the European Union. Tyler, for a man as lacking in foresight as he was, attempted a delicate tap-dance around prey sensibilities at first. Perhaps the UN’s program had suggested such restrictions for the human side, but I suspected my pal drew those conclusions from interacting with Venlil.

Regardless, hosting the meet-up on Terran ground meant that, despite my gushing about the smallest details of our home, Tyler had never actually seen or set foot on Leirn. I was bouncing with excitement for the tour I had planned; the sole upside of shipping out in this manner was getting to nerd out about my hometown. Finally, an alien who cared about us, or…pretended to care. The big guy certainly cared about me, but I knew he’d find my grocery list of fun facts boring.

“Alright, Onso. Look alive; they’re almost here.” I perked my ears up as the shuttle docked in the spaceport, and waved once I spotted the massive human among a crowd of sailors docking for a few hours of shore leave. “Tyler! Over here.”

The blond hominid strolled over with a goofy grin. “How’s it going, buddy? Up top!”

I obliged the Terran’s odd tradition of smacking his raised hand, and wagged my tail. “I’m glad to finally get to show you around Leirn. I know we only have a few hours, so that means we’ve got to hurry.”

“I’d pace yourself, Onso, you’re dealing with a persistence predator!”

“A persistence predator whose diet has been entirely ramen and mac-and-cheese. Those carbs are gonna keep you persistently on your ass.”

“So you did read my texts.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to a blurry, crooked picture of a half-eaten cup of ramen with a plastic fork in it…and a few noodles hanging over the side.”

“It’s called keeping in touch. Not all of us can be all ‘e equals em cee squared!’”

“Pfft, you don’t even know what those letters mean.”

“Ouch. Alright, alright, you win the ribbing contest. As a reward, I guess I’ll let you play the new video games I brought. This time, I picked ones with turn-based combat; if you smash another controller, I’m gonna make you sit and watch me play.”

“You can’t make me do anything, Tyler…but, er, I’m sorry about the controllers?”

“It’s okay, not your money you’re pissing down the drain, eh? Easy come, easy go.”

“Quit ragging on me. I don’t have great control of my temper, but you know I haven’t been able to even feel angry at all for the past 20 years. My neurochemistry is fucked forever.”

When I’d first come off the mind-numbing drugs, it was right after the Yotul Technocracy voted to join the Terrans, following Noah’s speech on Aafa. The daily screenings stopped at my engineering job in a flash, once the Federation was driven off-world in the Great Reclaiming. Having a name like “the Great Reclaiming” already was a clear sign about how not great we thought the alien occupiers were. The Farsul had instituted a puppet government, but when given an out, Yotul weren’t compliant with their maddening decrees. Anyone who maintained loyalty to the alien league was ousted, and we sought to make ourselves respectable.

After all the horrible things the Federation said about sapient predators, it was obvious it differed from reality. Ambassador Laulo’s reports of how the humans stood up for us “primitives” made it clear they were the only ones who saw the injustice of it all. Siding with them gave us a fresh start.

The current government had settled on the Technocracy name in opposition to the primitive jabs that plagued us in the 22 years since our “uplift.” These new officials were unelected, something Tyler had been surprised I was okay with. It would be a rude awakening to him that people claiming power to overthrow the Federation tyrants were wildly popular; we’d been denigrated for years, and we’d rather have an imperfect government of our own species than one of imperialists. The main focus was centralizing authority across Leirn, rather than clinging to the loose, local overseers that the aliens had used to keep us divided.

“I was just giving ya shit, buddy. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” Tyler’s expression had become concerned. “You should know this already, but I care about you way more than any controller. Handling emotions is hard as fuck, even for those of us who’ve had decades of practice. If it makes you feel any better, grown-ass humans get mad about stupider shit than that. I still remember how my batshit crazy old man would scream at the poor umpire in my Little League games.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I responded.

“The gist of it is, adults get pissed because their kids lose games, when they’re playing for fun. It doesn’t matter. My dad’s a nutter, always has been. I’d rather you smash a million controllers than do something that extra.”

“Your stories never seem to translate, but I appreciate you trying. Why don’t we get to touring Leirn?”

“Let’s go, Onso, Living Geyser of Fun Facts?”

“I like information, and I like sharing it unprovoked. There’s worse things out there. Besides, if we’re going to be shipping off to the hardest battle of our time together, this is the one upside.”

“The one upside? What about hanging with your best friend, Tyler?”

“I’m kinda indifferent to that part of the trip.”

“Fuck you! Bah, lead the way.”

The blond human’s head was on a swivel as we exited the spaceport, soaking in the digital adverts that remained. I could remember, before the Federation’s arrival, Rinsa’s current hub of spacecraft had been home to scribes; the printing press rendered the profession of transcribing or copying documents by hand obsolete. It had been the perfect complex to add to the demolition list, and replace with something modern. The location set it a block away from the bullet trains that were built atop the ruins of our railroads.

More interestingly to Tyler, some Yotul had dabbled in various Terran cultural imports, by choice. Tail dyeing was in with the younger crowd. I could see one teen with a bright blue tail, which clashed with his reddish fur, pass by us. Others took a fancy to adorning themselves with shiny objects, and were wearing trinkets around their forearms or necks. That jewelry trend caught on with numerous generations, since hand laborers often bound straps around their wrists in the old days. Transforming a symbol of the working class into a classy icon had mass appeal.

“I didn’t know aliens dyed their fur,” Tyler remarked.

I swished my tail lazily. “We did, but not weird colors, until we met you crazy primates. Some Yotul used powdered leaves to conceal gray fur, but not on this continent. Age is considered a sign of wisdom here in Rinsa.”

“Pfft, getting long in the tooth doesn’t mean you’re wise. It’s about the total sum of your life lessons, and some people don’t learn lessons no matter how long they’re taught. Source: my dad exists.”

“You don’t like your dad, and you left your dog with him?”

“Well, it’s better than a shelter. There’s all sorts of abandoned animals running around on the outskirts of ruined cities. It’s sad…wouldn’t do that to ol’ Zeus.”

“Your dog’s name! I’ve done some research into human mythology to understand that nomenclature. We had a pantheon of gods ourselves, you know. There were a handful of followers, up until the Feddies decided it was too primitive to salvage; the old customs were most popular outside the island. One deity was like Zeus but…I don’t understand why thunder was the king in many human circuits.”

“Because it’s loud and it burns shit, and that’s cool. I’m pretty sure some mythos had sun gods and all, and there’s lots of top-dog creation and death gods too. I dunno. Who led your pantheon?”

“Ralchi, the god of fire. He was considered the most powerful god, able to melt or destroy anyone who challenged him. Giver of warmth, who lit the very sun.”

“So Ralchi is a sun god of sorts. Your people got that ‘flames in the sky’ shit pretty right. The sun kinda is a big fireball.”

“We don’t consider him a god of the sun, not alone, anyways. Ralchi’s priests were adamant about the signs he’d send. Our lunar satellite isn’t the right proportions and distance to have total eclipses like on Earth, but when the sun had a shadow over it, Ralchi was threatening to take it away. Forests catch on fire, judgment. A building goes up in flames, Ralchi cursed its owner.”

“So what do you think Ralchi thinks about human fire-eaters?”

“Ralchi doesn’t think anything, because he’s not fucking real. As for what I think—I think you shouldn’t put fire in your mouth. Divine or not, respect nature a little.”

“We do. It’s better than the other aliens, who used fire to…shit. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“To burn animals alive? It’s alright. If Ralchi were real, he’d give those exterminator pricks a taste of their own medicine.”

Tyler stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “Onso, after what happened the past month, I just feel obligated to restate that…if you were ever having thoughts about doing something like that, I hope you’d talk to me. Maybe I say all the wrong things, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t try to help with. I’d be fucking rabid if someone torched Zeus, so I’m not gonna give you some pacifist bullshit. Just…don’t get obsessed with revenge, and don’t not reach out?”

“Tyler, I’ve always talked about hating the Feds. But I can assure you, while I struggle with my temper, I’m not going to lose it for good like Slanek. I’m going to kill those bastards in a disciplined way, by highlighting their shit-ass ships on the sensors screen. That’s what we’re doing: bringing them down.”

“Hell yeah! We’re bringing them down the right way too, because we’re better than ‘em. I’d say us humans are soft, but that’s not really true—it’s more that once we open that can of worms, doing evil shit, it doesn’t get closed. So we don’t cross those lines. If you ever feel any way about that, you can tell me; I might even fucking agree with you. That clear?”

“Hmph, well, I do think that you’re soft, but I can also see how you’re better than those immoral, colonizing pricks. I have no problem following human orders, for that reason. Even if I don’t understand, I trust you. My bluster is just a way of coping with everything they did, and you know that.”

“I do. But I’d rather not assume and check, than have anything happen to you. I’d be all shades of torn up if I lost you, Onso. You’re my much smarter bro.”

The blond human gave me a hearty slap on the back, and I tried to shake off the slight stinging sensation from that affectionately-intentioned gesture. It was fresh in my mind how Slanek had declared that he had predator disease, and outright stated that he was aggressive and unstable. My short fuse was something I recognized as a problem, but I was nothing like that Venlil. It was good to know Tyler would check on me, and that I could talk to him about anything. When I’d confessed all of the buried baggage about my hensa after Sillis, prompted by the sight of Dino, my exchange partner had been sympathetic and supportive.

Tyler may not seem like it from the outside, but he’s such a soft guy. He’s been helpful in letting me express and address my feelings for the first time since the Federation arrived. No predator or prey behavior shtick, just acceptance.

I jogged down the sidewalk, not wanting to remain sidetracked. “I just build rockets, Tyler. Anyone can do that.”

“Don’t rub it in now. Save that remark for Sovlin,” Tyler pouted. “Speaking of that racist old Gojid…you’ll never believe this, but you know that Arxur I was guarding? Sovlin started lobbying for the UN to let Vysith enlist like she wanted to!”

“I’m not that gullible.”

“It’s true! Obviously, we can’t have Vysith on a ship with other herbivore crew, even if it wouldn’t piss off the Dominion. Sovlin’s on latrine duty for the entire trip over, so be sure to rub it in his face. Aliens gotta learn to respect orders, ya don’t get a damn pass every other day.”

“Don’t go lumping me in with the witless Feds. All aliens aren’t like that. I’ve never disobeyed an order. Now, this is my one chance to show you around Rinsa, and I plan to regurgitate everything I know.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The unlucky Terran was subjected to verbose speeches on every landmark; with him present, my sadness over the cultural losses was a blip on my mental radar. I pointed out Tail Twine Theatre, which had a bustling ticket booth. Crowds had poured out in droves to see the classic play, which had been running for over a week now. The entire entertainment district could be refurbished off of the proceeds, with a fair being hosted next month. Yotul acrobats were returning, not having performed since the Federation swore off their stunts as “senseless, primitive derangement.”

Tyler was also shown to an unassuming tower of dirt down the road, an “auspice field.” Yotul would toss a spare seed into the tilled soil, based on an old superstition that it would bring good harvests and fortune. The human didn’t mock the practice as unscientific; instead, he wagged a finger at it like he recognized it. Surprisingly, despite their scientific advancement, many Terrans believed in luck—I learned they had similar concepts, namely wishing wells and fountains that they threw coins into. I marveled yet again that a capable, advanced species of extraterrestrials could hold onto past practices.

“We got stuff we think’s bad luck,” Tyler added. “Walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, opening umbrellas inside. Sometimes it’s as random as the number 13 or seeing a black cat. No rhyme or reason. You guys got anything like that?”

“Um…” I noticed that I was passing the old, now-shuttered, predator disease facility, where that awful Farsul doctor had treated me. Though I knew this had once been a cutting-edge factory, I would rather talk about luck than this accursed building. “It’s bad luck to get rainwater in your ears. Something about stealing it from the plants? It’s also bad luck to look at a sundial without light shining on it.”

“So not at night or in a storm.”

“Yeah. Some people are superstitious enough to cover sundials up in the evening, or when they see clouds on the horizon. I don’t really believe in such things, but there’s no reason to tempt fate. Just in case.”

“Same. It’s easy enough to not limbo my way under a ladder.”

I glanced back over my shoulder, in the other direction from Tail Twine Theatre. The research campus, where Sara Rosario had invited me to join her hensa preservation team, was that way. Tyler would be elated to meet a hensa and learn about the project, but I didn’t want to explain what I’d forsaken to re-up with his squad. The last thing I sought was for my friend to feel guilty over a choice I made of my own volition. That pathing also was the direction of my father’s current worksite, where his crew were building a gun range, but I suspected he’d be ashamed for me to introduce him to a human there.

You know where the Federation wouldn’t want us to go? The harbor. Tyler used to go fishing with his father, and I used to sail—I know we both like water.

I turned left, zipping toward the harbor. “Here’s where we end the tour, Tyler! If Mama’s boat hadn’t gone up in smoke, I’d take you for a ride.”

The blond human stepped onto the dock, and I noticed that several of his kind were present in the marina. Few recreational boats were left, with the rows of moored vessels mostly bringing cargo from outside the islands. The Federation, contradictory to their goals of preventing deep-sea exploration, seemed to have gone after anything that looked primitive. I guess their priorities got tangled up. Tyler patrolled the length of the boardwalk, and given his enthrallment, I decided my commentary wasn’t necessary.

The Earthling wandered away from the boats, finding a small sandy strip to admire the vista. A relaxed smile spread across his face, and he removed his shoes and socks. He wiggled his toes in the dull green sand, before wandering closer to the water. I tailed behind him, ignoring the irritating feel of grits in my fur. How could anyone see how drawn humans were to nature, and think that it was derivative of some hunting instinct? No other species appreciated beauty quite as much as the “predators.”

Tyler turned his head to look at me. “This is wonderful! I’ll tell you what, Onso. We make it back from Kolshian space, and I’ll find someone to teach you how to surf. I need to see a Yotul hang ten.”

“Something to look forward to on our return? You got a deal,” I chuckled.

The human flashed his teeth, mirth glowing in his blue eyes. With the hours ticking down before our time to ship out, we sat and enjoyed the sound of crashing waves against Leirn’s shoreline. Together, the two of us could find a way to pull through against any foe.

A/N - 145 is here! Tyler gets a tour of Leirn and learns more about Yotul culture, before the UN is due to ship out. The duo banters, while Onso assures his buddy that he'll hold up mentally under combat conditions, and the two end the tour with their shared passion for the ocean...plus a promise to make Onso surfing a reality. What was your favorite tidbit you learned about the Yotul here? Do you enjoy the dynamic between Tyler and Onso?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! Off-schedule update tomorrow, lore fans will be eating well this week!